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lovelikedestiny · 4 years ago

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Still waters run deep | Part One

The morning after jumping out of a skyscraper, Nile does not expect to wake up to the smell of bacon and therefore lies quietly on her back for a few seconds while she tries to find out whether she's still asleep. Her growling stomach tells her otherwise, however, because apparently dying and coming back to life is quite stimulating for the metabolism and makes you damn hungry

The sore muscles she expected from yesterday's questionable actions – hey, she was shot several times and threw a teenager in a ridiculous hoodie blazer out of a window – do not materialize, and Nile doesn't know whether to embrace or curse this aspect of immortality. She decides to put everything that has to do with it in the farthest corner of her head and see to it that her stomach gets something to eat. At least this is a task she can easily handle and that is comforting considering all of the changes she has experienced in the past few days. To her surprise, there is only one other person in the kitchen of the house Andy chose to stay for last night. Nicky stands calmly at the stove and turns the bacon in the pan with practiced movements that Nile envies for their elegance. He's wearing something similar to the evening in Goussainville. His back - under the dark fabric of his shirt - is turned towards her and he doesn't give the impression that he was tortured in a laboratory for 18 hours. "Good morning, Nile," he says softly without turning around and Nile almost startles because she didn't expect him to notice her. But this man has been around for 900 years and has probably learned to tell the steps of his companions apart. And it's no wonder with as close as he and Joe are. "Hi," she says awkwardly and stands indecisively in the doorway until Nicky points to an empty chair at the table, still keeping his eyes on the pan. "Please take a seat. Would you like tea or coffee? " "Uh...coffee please," she replies and sinks into one of the chairs. “I can go straight back to bed without caffeine,” she adds jokingly, trying to lighten the mood that is overshadowed by yesterday's events, despite the pleasantly normal noises of sizzling bacon. As if Nicky had done it hundreds of times - this man has probably witnessed the development of this hot drink – he pushes a cup filled with wonderful fresh coffee over the table to her and the subtle smile that plays around the corner of his mouth is what Nile sees as a victory. However, she cannot help but notice the deep circles under his eyes; adorning his pale face. "Thank you." She puts both hands around the cup and sighs softly as the pleasant warmth envelops her fingers. Nicky gives her a friendly nod and goes back to the stove, where he begins to lift the bacon from the pan onto a plate. Without taking her eyes off him, Nile carefully takes a sip and waits until it has reached her stomach before she speaks to Nicky: “Did you sleep at all? You look terrible. And I say that knowing some people would be very likely to throw themselves at your feet if you looked at them." To be honest, she doesn't know how to behave towards him. She had so little time to get to know him and Joe better before they were kidnapped. Nevertheless, the couple was extremely nice and welcoming at dinner in France and Nile is sure that has not changed. "No," Nicky says simply, his tone still soft when he answers her and puts a plate of toast and bacon in front of her. "And it's enough for me that Joe throws himself at my feet." Nile, who didn't expect such a dry line, gives a surprised laugh and is rewarded with a small but mischievous grin from Nicky. This almost makes her forget the essential aspect of their conversation: Nicky hasn't slept. And with the way she felt after jumping out of the skyscraper, his body should actually be pretty exhausted. After all, he and Joe didn't get the gentle treatment in the lab. Before she can go into further detail, Nicky shrugs his shoulders, almost embarrassed. "Unfortunately, I can only be of service with toast and bacon. The kitchen has nothing more to offer here and I didn't want to leave the house." He doesn't say why he didn't want to leave the house and Nile doesn't dig deeper due to the dull shine of his eyes. "Hello? I could die for bacon!" Nile exclaims in an exaggeratedly dramatic way and inhales the salty smell of the said food deeply, but considering past events and their significance her joke leaves a bitter aftertaste.

She clears her throat uncomfortably and starts to eat while Nicky silently prepares another plate of toast and places it on the seat next to Nile, although he doesn't sit down. She opens her mouth to ask him why he isn't eating too when Joe's voice comes from the hallway. "Nicolo?" Even if she doesn't know him that well, she hears the slight alarm in his voice and Nicky notices it too. "In the kitchen, my heart," he replies quickly and gives Joe a tender smile as he enters the room. The dark-haired warrior immediately relaxes when he catches sight of Nicky and Nile realizes that Joe looks just as exhausted as Nicky just in other ways: his face has a pained expression, and his eyes are slightly puffy as if he had cried last night. And Nile can't blame him in the slightest, smiling encouragingly at him to make him feel like he doesn't have to hide anything from her. Sympathetic crinkles form around his eyes when he returns her smile, but the humorous spark that lurked in his gaze in Goussainville is missing. She concentrates on her breakfast when Joe and Nicky kiss and then put their foreheads together, which is so much more intimate than wild making out, as Nile has seen several times in public with other couples. Quietly mumbled words wander back and forth between them and despite the fact that Nile tries hard to focus on her coffee, she still listens to them a little. "Did you even sleep, Nicky?" Out of the corner of her eye she sees how Joe puts a hand on Nicky's cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb. “I'm fine, Joe. Really. I can catch up on sleep,” Nicky assures him just as quietly and puts his hand on Joe's, squeezing it gently. "Sit down. Unfortunately, there is only toast.” Joe makes an unsatisfied noise. “You should have woken me up. Then I could have stayed up with you and...” "Yusuf", Nicky interrupts him and there is so much warmth in his bright eyes that Nile quickly takes a long sip of coffee and burns her tongue, although the pain disappears seconds later. “You needed sleep. And I...” “You need sleep too! You were in that damn lab with me!” Joe interjects, his voice still lowered, but clearer. "... don't sleep very well after heavy missions,” Nicky ends the sentence calmly, as if Joe hadn't said anything. "When this is all over, you can tie me to the bed and we won't go out for a week, okay?" Joe sighs deeply but laughs softly. “A week in bed, huh? I like that thought." With another kiss, Nicky urges him to the seat next to Nile, where the other plate is already waiting. Joe falls heavily on the chair, accepts Nicky's coffee cup with a grateful smile and leans into the touch as Nicky briefly lets his hand slide through Joe's curls. “You're an angel,” Joe says, biting off the jam toast that Nicky has already made. It's just a small bite and Joe chews it for a long time, but Nile thinks it's better than not eating at all. "If I'm an angel, you are my heaven." Nicky rummages behind them at the sink and makes this statement as casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Oh man," Nile says, eating her last piece of toast. "You're really disgustingly cute." Joe chuckles into his mug, but the chuckles stop abruptly when Booker walks into the kitchen. There is a really crushing silence for a few heartbeats and nobody moves. The problem with the Frenchman is that Nile absolutely thinks his betrayal sucks and can only shake her head at how he turned over the people who have accompanied him for centuries. But she understands his motives, has seen the deep pain that nests in him when he told her about his family, and she likes him. Nile sees in him someone who understands her current situation with her family. Booker shifts his weight, his bloodshot eyes darting back and forth between them and finally he starts moving and comes to the table. "Morning," he mumbles. Joe pretends not to have heard him, his eyes stubbornly fixed on the jam toast, although he only pushes the bitten bread around on his plate. Nile raises her hand in greeting. "Hello." "Good morning," Nicky says and Booker freezes in alarm, his hands on the back of the chair he has just pulled back to sit down. As if the Italian had yelled at him, but Nile sees no hostile behavior in Nicky's grip as he pours coffee into another mug. Even Joe takes a closer look at his lover and Nile's last strip of bacon remains lonely on her plate because she is absolutely confused by everyone's behavior. "I hope you saved a bunch of bacon for me, Nicky," Andy says as she appears in the kitchen. The warrior looks tired and beaten but moves with the same confidence and strength with which Nile first met her. She favors the side that Nicky patched up yesterday, but otherwise nothing of her new mortality can be seen. Nicky hands her the coffee cup and a plate on which you can barely see the toast under all the bacon. "That is out of the question." Andy narrows her eyes into ice blue triangles yet sits down at the breakfast table with her plate and mug, without taking her attention from Nicky. "Everything is fine so far?" "Always,” Nicky says simply and somehow automatic. Joe makes a face. “According to the circumstances, boss.” The swipe at Booker cannot be ignored, Booker stares at the floor. "And you?" Andy's snort is barking. "As good as new. And now eat your girl-toast. Nicky didn't make my toast that sweet." Joe shakes his head with a grin. "Bacon is also difficult to smear." "Exactly," Nicky says, stressing Joe's opinion by pointing at Andy's plate. "Bacon is fat, but not spreadable.” Whatever it is that the others hear in Nicky's voice, it makes them turn to the Italian who is still at the sink, now washing the pan. Nile nibbles on her last strip of bacon without saying a word because she doesn't want to miss anything. Only then does she notice that Booker is the only one who hasn't received a coffee cup or a full plate and has not yet sat down, as if he were unsure whether Nicky should bring him anything or whether he should get something himself. "Um," Booker makes a sound in his throat. It is not an offended sound, but just an expression of his discomfort and he moves to go to the wall cabinet where the cups are. The water in the sink runs out.

Then several things happen at once: Nicky turns around in a lightning-fast movement, something gleams metallic and suddenly Booker utters a French curse, staggering backwards and staring in disbelief at the knife that is stuck in his shoulder.

Andy jumps up. "NICKY!" "Merde!" Booker hisses and pulls out the knife – the knife Nicky threw – with clenched teeth, looking sadly at the blood on the blade and on his shirt. But before he can reply, Nicky is suddenly in front of him. Andy curses too and prepares to intervene, but the table is in the way and Nicky is too fast. With her mouth half open in shock, Nile can do nothing but watch as Nicky skillfully snatches the knife from Booker's grip, knocks him with a short, violent blow against the wall and rams the weapon millimeters from Booker's face into the wallpaper. She can't believe that this is the man who kindly showed her the bed in France and apologetically declared a few minutes ago that he could only serve toast and bacon for breakfast as if that were a criminal offense. On the other hand, Nicky is the only one who hasn't expressed his anger so far. Joe was pretty verbal in the lab and wasn't shy about saying what he thought of Booker's actions, and Andy just seemed too exhausted and tired of all the shit she's been through in her many, many years to be particularly outraged. But Nicky was the one who soothed Joe yesterday and coaxed Andy with gentle touches into letting him treat her wound. And however, Nile expected his anger to be expressed, she didn't expect this kind of anger; this icy wrath that doesn't burst out of Nicky uncontrollably like Joe's yesterday but is purposefully and controlled and therefore all the more intimidating and frightening. Booker stares wide-eyed at Nicky, who has one hand still on the knife rammed into the wall and the other buried in Booker's shirt, holding Booker firmly in place, his face just inches from Booker's. "Did that hurt?" Nicky finally asks so gently that Nile wouldn't have understood him if it hadn't been for dead silence in the kitchen. And although Nicky has not raised his voice, a shiver runs down Nile's spine, because beneath the gentleness you can clearly hear an unsettling coldness.

Can be found on AO3 too :)

#the old guard #Nile Freeman #Nicolo di Genova #Yusuf al-Kaysani #Sebastien le Livre #Andromache the Scythian #morning after merrick #part one #fanfiction #still waters run deep

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bonemarroww · 4 years ago

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Something Else - Trans!(O) Amajiki Tamaki x (A) F!Reader

Summary : “You’ll get there someday!” Mirio always says. “You’ll do better next time." Tamaki doesn’t want to get there someday. And if every Alpha always does, well, maybe he’s something else then.

Warnings : None.

(I do not own the picture)

AO3 Link

Prologue

————— Chapter 1

Once again, Tamaki’s head was glued to the wall just outside his classroom, as he breathed deeply. Class had started a few minutes earlier. It was the day he was supposed to make an oral presentation to the class about his internship with Fat Gum; but his teacher had allowed him to go out and take his time to be ready to face the class. Mirio and Nejire had given him thumbs up on his way out of the classroom, and once already the blonde had peeked his head through the wall to ask him if he was alright.

He was not. It was such an important presentation, that would mark the mid semester as well as a summary of his experience so far as a hero. He had worked hard on it for several days already, but now that it was just a matter of talkingin front of the class, his throat felt tight from tears he was holding back.

The whole thing was spiraling to a whole new level of anxiety, and had he not followed extensive hero training, he might not have heard the sound of footsteps coming his way.

“Hey, are you alright?” A soft voice pulled him from his thoughts, as a sweet verbena scent wafted in the air, surrounding him in a calming wave.

It evoked in him the warmth of a fire in winter, the security of a known place and the peace of a deserted park; and immediately, Tamaki felt like he could breathe better. His thoughts, still as tangled as they were before if not more, slowed down slightly.

When he lifted his gaze from the wall, it was met with that of a girl his age, that he did not recognize immediately. She was dressed for the cold weather, her nose still a bit red from having been outside in the cold, but her little smile was warm. So was her palm, that she had settled around his back in some sort of weird distant half-hug he did not mind so much.

“Hi. What’s your name?” She asked nicely, as more of her scent exuded from her, and Tamaki realized the panic inside did not feel as vivacious anymore.

“A-Amajiki Tamaki.” He hesitantly answered.

“That’s a pretty name, it suits you well.”

Tamaki blushed from the compliment, looking down and fumbling with his presentation papers as he thanked her timidly.

“Is there something wrong, Amajiki? Do you want me to stay until you’re okay?” Her voice took a more serious, concerned tone.

It didn’t click until that moment that this wasn’t just a friendly girl coming to distract him. This was what Mirio did daily and that he could not. This was the first duty of any self-respecting Alpha, the first instinct there ever was, the natural tendency he had observed time and time again growing up, as he stayed behind.

She was comforting an Omega in distress.

The realization was enough to send him in a daze.

“It’s- it’s nothing...”

One of her palms went to stop his trembling hands, bringing to her attention his presentation papers, which were wrinkled from the way he was gripping them. The subject of his anxiety was now obvious to her.

“It’s okay, you’ll do great, I can feel it.” She squeezed his hand and spoke with faith.

Before he could figure out what to answer, a loud voice called her from the other end of the corridor, and only then did Tamaki realize they weren’t alone anymore. Another girl, her face worried, was tapping her foot on the ground and looking around as if afraid of getting caught.

“Come on, we’re already late! Aizawa is going to shred us to pieces !”

The nice girl hushed her with obvious irritation at being interrupted, before turning back to him. Her hands left him, and Tamaki immediately felt their loss, leaning further into her touch as if by reflex. The Alpha he brought her hands to her neck and started to remove her scarf.

“I’m afraid I have to go. Take this...” She rolled the scarf around his neck. “Deep breaths, and everything will be fine, okay?”

As if in a trance, Tamaki saw himself nod, and after one last little smile, the girl was gone, running to her friend and to their classroom.

When the sound of her footsteps disappeared in the next hallway, the boy shyly brought the scarf to his nose, breathing in deeply the calming scent of the Alpha girl.

He entered the classroom as if on autopilot, ignoring the curious looks the neatly rolled scarf attracted, and started his presentation feeling oddly serene.

At the next free period, Tamaki had recounted what had happened to Mirio and Nejire; omitting the part where the verbena scent of the girl was the most pleasant thing he had ever smelled, and that it still took everything from him not to nuzzle the fabric until he got drunk off that scent. He had removed the temptation after his daze had dissipated, shoving the scarf into his schoolbag and blushing from the attention it had gotten on him.

To say Nejire had been amused by the situation was an understatement. The only reason the Omega was not rolling on the floor laughing was her mate holding her up.

“Chicken-heart, mistaken for an Omega? Oh, I must know who this Alpha was!” She laughed long after school, as they walked back to their dorms.

Tamaki walked with his head hung low, half in embarrassment and half in haste to get to his dorm room already. Eventually, Mirio noticed that Nejire’s hilarity did not reach their friend, and diverted her attention to something else –which Tamaki was grateful for.

Usually, Tamaki would hang out with the couple for some time after they reached the dorms, maybe do his homework with them in the common room; but as soon as they got there, Tamaki excused himself and practically ran to his room.

Locking the door, he put his backpack down, and frantically searched for the scarf.

When its scent wafted in the air, Tamaki sat on his bed, pressing the soft fabric to his nose and breathing deeply.

It was not the first time Tamaki found an Alpha’s scent attractive –merely the first time he was in possession of an item carrying the smell. It was an odd thing for someone of his nature, he knew. An Alpha’s scent was generally strong, and traditionally used as a mark of territorial dominance over possible rivals. Many would call him a lesser Alpha for liking the scent of a potential competitor.

For a long time, he had wondered what was wrong with him. He did not fit the traditional description of his second gender; never had and, after many years, he was starting to suspect he never would. His Alpha was as tame and shy as he was, and the way people expected him to behave made Tamaki uncomfortable.

He did not like to be reminded of his nature, nor did he like the responsibility it thrust upon him. He did not relish in the attention the way most Alphas preened when complimented on their power.

Drunk on the sweet smell, Tamaki let himself lay down on his bed, rearranging his covers in a comfortable round pile to which he added the back-up cover and pillows he occasionally lent Mirio when the blonde would sometimes have a sleepover in his dorm room.

Finally satisfied, Tamaki let himself rest. His entire bed now smelled like calm and verbena, and he let himself enjoy it, knowing he would have to rearrange and probably wash everything later.

It was something he had found comforted him greatly, but that he had not yet dared to indulge in in his dorm room, lest Mirio might see. The blonde had a nasty tendency to pop his head through the wall at any time of the day, and so without knocking.

It was not that Tamaki was afraid of Mirio’s reaction; but he wasn’t sure the carefree Alpha would understand, especially with all his talk of “you’ll get there someday! ” whenever the shy boy expressed how hard it was for him to play his role as an Alpha.

Tamaki didn’t want to “get there someday”… He had often wondered if maybe, he was one of these “sensitive Alphas”, but even that idea was quite unappealing to him.

He had not known either what it was he felt within him, and it wasn’t until a couple of years prior, when he had stumbled upon a certain book in the library, that he had gotten a semblance of an answer –or at least, a lead. Several characters in it described this same feeling of inadequacy and disconnection with their inner Alpha –or Omega. He wasn’t the only one, he had learned with shy glee, as he read avidly their experiences –some quite similar to his own. A few felt an affinity with the other penchant to their second gender, and eventually, one of them ended up actually undergoing a hormonal treatment to be more on par with their identity.

It was the first time Tamaki had wondered if, maybe, he was truly was not an Alpha, but... something else.

Ever since then, he had discreetly experimented, on his own, too timid to draw definite conclusions, but learning a lot about what he liked and what he did not.

One thing had emerged slowly, and that was his love for nests. While he had never previously dared to make one in his dorm room before, he had on occasions made some in his own room at home, always more disheartened to have to take them apart to keep up appearances. Eventually, one had found its way permanently laid in a corner of his room, and Mirio had found himself invited to the Amajiki household less regularly than he used to. In that, moving into dorms had been both a torture and a relief; practically living with his best friend without having to dismantle his nest, but being far away from it for most of the week.

Fortunately, and without the need to have a big, anxiety-inducing argument, his parents had understood that he was going through something, and had showed him quiet support, buying him books on gender identity and even that little guide, obviously meant for young Omegas, on different ways to make a nest feel as personal as possible.

Tamaki knew bringing an Alpha’s scent into one’s nest was a big deal, especially without said Alpha’s knowledge; but this one was temporary... It couldn’t hurt, could it?

As he felt sleep slowly creeping over him, Tamaki mused that not once, through his encounter with the Alpha this morning, had he felt anxious regarding his role or his nature.

Nejire was quick on her determination to know just who helped him the day before. At lunch break, as Mirio and Tamaki were eating together out in UA’s green esplanade, far from the rush of the cafeteria, she found them, dragging behind her a semi-willing girl Tamaki recognized from the day before as his- the Alpha.

The slight wind did not help, bringing her scent to him.

“Chicken-heart! I found her!” The bubbly Omega grinned, and Tamaki hung his head low in embarrassment over the nickname.

He did look up timidly at his savior of the day before, when Mirio enthusiastically introduced himself. The Alpha smiled back, giving her name in return. She was in class 2-B, Tamaki learnt; she had joined the academy one year later than she could have, making her the oldest of her year. Tamaki absorbed the information, all the while fumbling with his hands wondering if he should just tell her, or say nothing?

Sensing he would not dare talk to the girl from 2-B in front of his friends, Mirio dragged Nejire a bit farther from the two, and watched from afar their interaction.

The shy boy avoided the girl’s gaze, his own having darted to his feet as soon as Mirio had left them. He wondered where to start. Would she believe him when he would tell her he had not meant to take up her time? Oh, and she probably wanted her scarf back; he had put it in his backpack even though he had not had the time to wash it, having fallen asleep clutching it and woken up a bit too late for that. He certainly didn’t want to be an even worse Alpha and give it back to her dirty, but he had found himself mindlessly reaching into his bag for her scent several times in the morning, under his friends’ watchful gazes.

He was such a creep, he scolded himself, to even think about all this in front of her...

“I’m sorry.”

Tamaki startled when he heard her voice. She was... apologizing?

The girl’s smile was sheepish and guilty, an odd look on her features.

“Your friend told me you are an Alpha, though you don’t smell half bad for one...” She shook her head, sensing she was drifting off topic. “I didn’t mean to misgender you yesterday, I sincerely thought you were an Omega. So, I’m sorry.”

Tamaki swallowed thickly before looking away shyly. She was formal, but not hostile. She gave him the impression of apologizing out of his comfort, not because she thought it an insult to be called an Omega.

“It’s okay.” He whispered bashfully. “I did not mind it...”

There was a moment of silence, and Tamaki saw from the corner of his eyes the way the second year was slightly swaying, as if hesitating on what to do next.

It then clicked in his head, of course, she would want her possession back.

“Your scarf...” He frantically searched in his bag, nearly emptying it on accident, before offering timidly the fabric to her. “I did not have time to wash it, I’m sorry...”

Only when the Alpha accepted it, saying it was fine, did the shy boy realized his scent must be all over it. He felt like dying when the girl subtly sniffed it; now she probably knew he had spent hours breathing it in as he rested.

“Did it help a little?” She innocently asked, though the seriousness in her gaze meant one of two things; either she was making fun of him, or she genuinely cared to know if things had gone well after her hasty retreat the other day.

Instincts and his timid self were leaning towards the latter, and so, Tamaki shyly spoke.

“It went fine, j-just like you said.”

She nodded with a smile, before gesturing to the spot he had previously occupied with Mirio, waiting for Nejire to have lunch with them.

“Can I sit with you three? I mean, now that I’m here...”

Any doubt Tamaki might have had considering Mirio and Nejire’s eavesdropping was lifted when the energetic girl yelled that she could stay with them three and become their new best friend.

For once, the shy boy silently agreed with his overzealous friend.

#amajiki tamaki x reader #amajiki tamaki fluff #trans amajiki tamaki #my hero academia #something else

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kazoo5480 · 4 years ago

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Emma wakes with Killian’s alarm, she rolls over, and kisses the underside of his jaw, he twitches, still deeply asleep. “Babe, wake up” she says smiling kissing up his neck. He groans, and rolls into her. “What time is it?” he asks yawning, 7, I have to go, work. See you for lunch?” He opens his eyes finally and takes her in, all sleep rumpled and gorgeous. Sighing “Aye, I’ll be by around 12” and she kisses him too quickly and stands to put on her clothes. “Love you” and runs out his door, and he lays there a minute, still waking up.

He sees the boxes stacked still in the corner and sighs. He pushes himself up, and into the shower, leaving Liam a note on the table, focusing on getting through the day. He grabs his skateboard and his backpack and heads out towards the gashouse and just focuses on moving and Emma, what he said to her last night and her so willingly accepting his words. It made him grin like an idiot, Liam might be leaving and starting his own adventure, but so was he. He still had his own adventure to seek, and school ahead, the fact that he was lucky enough to have Emma by his side was just the best kind of added bonus.

Emma rushes inside and up to her room showering quickly and throwing her uniform on. Her mom stood on the precipice of her bedroom watching the whirlwind of her daughter as she raced around. “Is Killian alright Sunshine?” and Emma stopped and looked at her mom and nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t expect to need to stay but I took one look at their life being boxed up, and he was so broken up mom. I can see his point of view, this was their first home after leaving their home, losing their mom, and with Liam leaving it is just a lot and he is processing, last night was just a bad night for him is all.” Ruth noticed the ring on her daughters right hand but didn’t say anything, if it were important, she would tell her, she always did.

Emma sat down her head in her hands and her mom sat next to her rubbing over her back, and Emma leaned into her mom. “He is lucky he has you Ems, and he has us, and we will all get through this all together. Maybe you could do something nice, rally the troops to help get his stuff moved, and I’ll even throw in for Pizza. I have Saturday off so I could help in the morning, unpack stuff while the guys do the heavy lofting and all that, see if Liam needs help too” and Emma smiled at her mom “that would be awesome, good idea” and she got up rolling her socks on and threw everything in her work duffle. “I gotta go, but I will see you later Mom” and she kissed her mom as Ruth called out to have a good day behind her.

Ruth sat there, and smiled, she raised really good kids, and though she missed her husband like mad sometimes, but she would wait a little longer to tell them, it was going to change a lot in their lives, and she didn’t want to add more on to their plates. Ruth had been seeing her oncologist weekly for months, treatment options were approaching, and Ruth sighed. Speaking aloud, “I’m not ready to leave them yet honey” she said to no one, and she quickly wiped the tears that began running down her cheeks. What she wasn’t aware of was her son standing in the doorway.

“Planning on going somewhere Ma?” and he looked at her taking in her sadness. Ruth was startled, and she looked at her son and the tears began falling quicker. “Come sit” she patted the spot next to her on Emma’s bed and David sat down, his hurt arm on the opposite side and he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Ma what is it?” he asked gently, and she sighed. “Breast Cancer” and David burst into tears tucking his face into his mother’s neck, hugging her as best as he could, and she held her boy, crying in her arms. “I just told your dad, I am not ready to leave yet, so that’s that” and David laughed a little as he sniffled, his tears still flowing. “How bad is it?” and she sighed, “I have options, chemotherapy, surgery. I chose to start Chemo next week, see how it goes” and David nodded.

“We will do everything mom, just tell me how to keep the family running” and she patted his cheek. “Well, I will need some help around the house, and the therapy makes you really sick, so I have been slowly building an arsenal of stuff I’m going to need, speaking with people in the treatment rooms while they go through it. I wanted to be prepared.” He nodded, “How long have you known?” “Six months. I found a lump and scheduled an appointment right away; we think we caught it early… but I am probably going to lose my hair” she said with a grim smile. David looked at her touching her soft blonde curls, so similar to Emma’s.

“Hair grows back, or we will find you some really amazing wigs, or you can totally rock a bald head” and she laughed and nodded. “The house will be fine, I have our savings, my pension with the hospital, we should be ok” and he nodded once. “Em and I will contribute everything we make to the savings; we should make a plan to tell her, and be ready with a plan, she always wants to see the long picture” and Ruth nodded. “We should make sure you both are on the bank account and the house deed.” David cut her off. “You aren’t going anywhere Ma” and she smiled, “Let’s just have a plan B, it would make me feel better” and he nodded.

“When do we tell Em?” he asked grimly, and she sighed, “I don’t know, but I think we should let Killian and her both get through the weekend, and then we will tell everyone. I have a feeling I am going to need each and every one of my kids to get us through this” and Dave nodded. “I’ll call a Sunday dinner, spread the word through Ruby, we never needed a reason before, so we should do it soon” and Ruth agreed. “I’ll make lasagna, and maybe a cake” and Dave looked at his mom, “It’s going to be ok Mom. I am not going anywhere, and me and Em, we can handle this, helping you. Our friends, they will be here too, you’re just going to have to be ok with people taking over to help you for a while, see how the treatment works, without fighting all of us” and she smiled. “How did I get so lucky to have two great kids?” and he smiled, “Because we have a great mom.” He held his mom a little longer until she got up and said she was going to get ready for work, and he nodded.

He sat there for a while, staring out the window, and begged his dad to leave their mom with them, to not take her too. His heart was shattered, and he couldn’t tell a soul, that was his mom’s personal choice to tell people, and even though it killed him, he wouldn’t tell Emma, they would tell her together. He knew the police academy was the right choice, it would pay good, he could live here with his mom, make sure she was taken care of, Emma had another year of school so she would be around, and lord knows all their friends would band together to keep their matriarch in one piece. He just had to have hope that it would all be ok. He walked to the phone and dialed Red, she picked up immediately. “Hey Rubes, Ma is calling Sunday dinner, everyone, 5 o clock” and she agreed and said she would track everyone down, not even asking why.

He could do this, he could handle this, and Emma was strong like Ruth, they could handle it. As much as he hated to agree, they needed a Plan B, Breast Cancer wasn’t exactly new but when it was your own mother, he decided he should start reading. Since he was off today, he went downstairs, and his mom kissed him goodbye before her shift, and he headed toward the library, asking for every single book, journal, and article they had on Breast Cancer, Astrid the librarian looked at him and nodded with a curious expression but said she would grab what she had, and begin collecting everything over the next few days for him. He thanked her and began reading.

Emma and M were both on the same shift today, and they weren’t crazy busy, so they had some downtime to talk. Emma asked about swapping shifts so that she could be helping Killian Saturday and M agreed of course and said she would help him Sunday too. Zelena came out and tacked up the schedule, waving good morning, and it turns out both Saturday and Sunday Emma had the morning shifts, and would be off by 3, so M didn’t mind at all that she took her Saturday shift if Emma took her following Sunday afternoon shift for her, Emma agreed right away. They chitchatted, and a few cars came in, but by lunch they were starting to get packed. Emma was zipping around on her skates doling out orders for two hours straight, and Killian still hadn’t shown up. Maybe he was busy too she thought.

Ruby called a while later to Rae’s telling M that Ruth was calling for Sunday Dinner, and Dave had called Ruby to round them all up, Emma laughed, eating her grilled cheese as M talked to Ruby, she could have done that, but he was right, Ruby was like a one-woman telephone tree. Emma just assumed her mom wanted Killian to have support since Liam was leaving Friday, and now Elsa too. Emma told M to eat, and she was about to skate out as Killian walked in closer to 1. “Sorry, we were packed, and without Dave it was just me today” and she nodded and kissed him, “Sit, I will be right back” and skated out. Killian parked himself next to M and she was scarfing down her food. “You know no one is going to steal that from you M” and she laughed.

“Sorry, but we just had a huge rush, I am starving, you missed Emma inhaling her food a few minutes ago” and he smiled. “Eat, I am just placing a carry out, and she threw him her pad to write his order on. She got up and skated around the counter throwing it on the counter for the kitchen and tossed her plate into the dish bin. “It will be up in a few” and skated out, her brunette hair blowing out behind her. He shook his head, they worked really hard, and honestly, he was grateful because this obviously contributed to Emma’s outstanding legs. Speaking of which, she skated in and into his arms and he caught her. “Hi” she said, and he kissed her. “Do you want something?” and he told her he had a carry out coming. Emma told him Sunday dinner and he nodded, and “order up” came and Emma skated to grab his bag. “What time are you off again?” she asked, “Looks like later, 530 or so” and she nodded. “See you tonight?” and he nodded, Ill head over after I go home and shower. She nodded, “Love you” and he kissed her hard. “See you tonight” and she smiled as he walked out, food in hand.

David closed the last book and popped a few journals and the legal pad he had taken copious notes on and headed towards the car. He looked at his watch, both Emma and his mom would be home soon, so he wanted to make sure dinner was ready and, on the table, when they both got in. Tonight, was going to be rough on them all, and he decided to swing by the gashouse on his way home. Spotting Killian, he waved with his good hand, “Hey, shouldn’t you be resting?” Jones said to him and he nodded, “I am. I need you to come to our house tonight, I know you are busy, but actually Liam and Elsa should come too for dinner.

Killian nodded, “Ill track Liam down, what’s up? Em said Sunday dinner, but tonight?” And David sighed, “Can you make dinner? Or be there after dinner?” Killian looked nervous, “Dave” and put a hand on his good shoulder, and Dave shook his head. “Tonight?” And Killian nodded, “Emma?” “Is going to need you. But I gotta go” and he booked it out of there leaving a confused and very worried Killian in his wake. Killian lifted the phone dialing the docks, and got Liam to agree to dinner, said he would meet him there at 6, Elsa was working though, and Killian couldn’t tell him why because he honestly didn’t know, and by Emma’s demeanor today he would bet that she didn’t either.

After his shift he rushed home, and showered, changing, and throwing in clothes for good measure in case, and skated towards the Nolan’s like a fire was under his ass. Ruth walked in to find her son tossing a salad, and stir fry going on the stove. “Someone has been busy” she said to her son, as she looked over his notepad, and he snatched it out her hands. “I did some reading, wanted to be prepared” and Ruth hugged her son. “We are telling Emma tonight, I asked Killian and Liam to come over, no one else. But Emma is going to need the support, and with Liam leaving he has a right to know” and Ruth looked sad. “I didn’t want those boys to worry” and Dave nodded, but said “Ems going to need Killian just as much as I need M and you need all of us. We are a family, and I didn’t know if you wanted M to know or not yet, so I haven’t said a word to her, and didn’t ask her to come tonight.” Ruth nodded, “You should call her, I don’t want you keeping my secret from her” and he walked to the phone calling.

Ruth headed into her bedroom and changed into a floral sundress that she loved and combed her long hair back. She needed to be strong for her kids, for herself. She knew David was right, they needed to involve those closest to them first, and she headed into the kitchen to help her son with dinner, since they were expecting more people now. Dave banished her to the porch swing, and she hated being bossed around but she had to let her son come to terms with this, and if bossing people around and making her sit and read was punishment, she would be a glutton for it. Emma’s yellow bus rolled in and she hopped out, M with her, hearing her in the kitchen, and heard her daughters footsteps up the stairs. M and Dave came out to sit with her, and Emma came down a few moments later, her long blonde curls drying and a smile on her face. “Dave said dinner tonight, and Sunday. What’s going on?”

She watched her mom school her features, Emma did the same thing when she was upset or had a secret. Killian rolled up on his skateboard, and Emma was surprised but not, Killian looked nervous as he approached their porch and sat on an empty seat. M moved to an empty chair beside him, and Emma moved to the swing with her mom and Dave. Dave nodded at Ruth, and Emma’s mom clasped her hand and Dave’s good one.

“We asked you here because we have something to tell you, and because you two are the most important people in their lives, it’s going to take us all as a family to get through this, together” Ruth said swallowing. Dave produced a box of tissue from somewhere and handed one to his mom. “Mommy?” Emma said, and Ruth patted Emma’s cheek. “I’m sick Sunshine, Breast Cancer” and looked grim. Emma gasped, her lip trembled, and tears began to pour. She hugged her mom tightly, Killian and M held hands and they watched the three hold each other and cry, Killian now understanding why Dave wouldn’t tell him, it wasn’t his news to share.

Killian knelt in front of the three of them, pulling M with him and he rubbed Emma’s leg in reassurance, but she didn’t take her eyes off her mom. “Whatever you need, I’ll help” Killian said, and Ruth smiled at him. “Tell me everything” Emma said, and Ruth did, telling them all, and Dave chimed in with what he found at the library. M and Killian excused themselves to allow them privacy for a moment, and to go get dinner off the stove, and wrapped each other in a tight hug. “Ruth is tough, she will be ok” M said to Killian and he nodded, “it won’t be like it was with your mom Jones, if they caught it early enough…” and he gripped his friend tighter nodding. “Help me get this on the table” and he followed the small brunette around, lost in his thoughts.

Emma was reeling, “How long did you know” she nailed Dave with a glare. “Just this morning sunshine, don’t be mad at your brother, he caught me in a weak moment right after you left, and I just spilled it” she laughed lightly. “It isn’t funny” Emma said to her mom, and her mom wiped the tear tracks off her daughters cheeks. “I am going to be ok, treatment and maybe a surgery, but like I told your brother, I told dad this morning I wasn’t leaving and that’s that” and Emma nodded wanting to be alone. She got up off the porch, and walked around to the bus, grabbing her spare key, and backed out of the driveway and pulled out, her mom and brother looking confused, but she saw her mom pull Dave down as he tried to stand. “Emma” he yelled, and she took off, heading toward the beach.

Killian heard them call Emma’s name and saw the bus gone. He ran to the front steps, “Where did she go?” and Ruth sighed, “the place she always goes when she needs to be alone” and stood patting his cheek. “Come on, let’s get supper on the table, and start eating, is Liam coming?” and Killian nodded. “I should…” and Ruth looked at him, “Let her be, if she isn’t back before dark, you can go get her, drag her back. I expected this, Emma is like the wind, temperamental and strong, I knew she would need a moment to process it, and I am not going to deny her that and neither are any of you” and he nodded in understanding, wanting to support his love and hold her like she held him. He also knew when Emma took off, she needed it and meant it. Liam showed up a few moments later, and as they ate, Ruth told Liam who immediately knelt at her side crushing her in a hug. It was a very emotional dinner, and his thoughts were entirely on Emma as he sat there with her family processing this monumental news and wishing he could take her pain away and looking at her mother, their surrogate mother and wanting to take her illness away.

Emma threw her suit on, and grabbed her board, stalking down the pier, dropping her stuff in a pile and went into the water. The sun was orange and pink, and purples, the waves calm as she laid on her board looking at the sky, sobbing. She was furious at god, or whoever was out there for doing this, they had already lost their dad, and what if her mom didn’t come out of this. God, the tears rolled down her face and she just let her heart crack wide open, and the tears fall into the ocean as it rolled over her skin. She sat up and paddled, having drifted and the sky was getting darker. She went to the shore, and saw Killian sitting, her stuff in his lap. He handed her the towel as she dropped her board and she crawled into his lap and he held her as she cried softly, soothing her, and smoothing her hair until she had let it all out. “Come on angel, let’s get you home” and he grabbed her stuff and led her to the bus driving her back home.

Ruth was on the porch reading, Dave and M in the house watching TV. Liam had hugged her goodbye after dinner, and promised to stop by before he left, and Killian had finally run off to the beach to drag Emma home. It was full dark now and she saw the bus pull in and park at the end of the driveway. Emma hopped out, her wet bathing suit, her eyes red, and Killian kissed her forehead sending her up the front walk while he moved the bus into the backyard. Emma looked up at her mom and came to sit next to her, Ruth holding her tightly and kissing her hair. “I’m sorry” Emma said quietly, and Ruth shushed her. “I know you sunshine, you needed time.” Emma hugged her mom fiercely, “do you think it will work?” and Ruth nodded against her daughters head, “I really do sunshine, I really do. But I am tired, and I am sure you are too. Let’s head in, ok?”

Emma nodded and helped her mom up, and Dave got up and crushed Emma to his good side, “You can’t just leave in the dark, no more. No surfing after sundown Em” and she looked up at him and nodded. “I can’t be worried about you out there, and her here. I need you to be here Em, I need you.” Emma kissed his cheek and noticed Killian, Dave looked at him “When I am not here, she is your responsibility.” “I’m not a child Dave! Killian has his own life, same as you and M, and Liam. All of us. I can take care of myself, but I said I wouldn’t go after dark anymore” she said petulantly. Dave softened, and looked at Killian and Emma, “Well if you’re at the beach after dark, it’s never alone. If I am not there, he is” and Killian nods “I got it Dave” and he grabbed Emma’s hand and led her up to her room. He could feel the emotion rolling off of Emma in waves, she needed grounding and he walked up to her and grabbed her hand rubbing the ring. “I’m your anchor too Em. Let me be, let me in” and she nodded, and he hugged her tightly.

Emma went to the shower and rinsed off. She didn’t bother with clothes and Killian wasn’t surprised when she crawled into bed and curled herself around him. She needed him, just as he did the night before from her, so he rolled her and slid his boxers off. He quietly made love to Emma, silencing her moans with his mouth, and kissed her tears away until they were spent. “Ems, nightgown” he said into her hair and she grabbed it off the end of her bed and pulled it on, and he pulled on his boxers and tee shirt. Emma laid her head on his chest and fell asleep. Killian laid there a while, the crickets out her window, the wind blowing in and thought back to what Ruth said, when she offered for him to be here. Maybe now he should be, for Ruth, for Emma, for Dave. He would talk to Ruth tomorrow, and drifted off to sleep.

He crept out of Emma’s bed, her still sound asleep and put on his clothes, making a pot of coffee. Ruth came in a few minutes later, not surprised to see him. “Morning” she said, and Killian handed her a cup, and she smiled. “You knew the day of the competition, when you said no matter what that I am allowed here whenever I wanted, night, day, if I chose to be, and that you were ok with it. You meant this, didn’t you Ruth?” and she looked at him quietly, and nodded. “I thought maybe you being here would help me, it would help you avoid renting a place, and I am sick. Dave and Em can’t do it all on their own all the time, but I wanted you to know you could be here as much as you wanted honey. Losing your mom, I thought you might want to be here more for Em and Dave, me too.”

He nodded, “I do, but living with you guys is one thing, I moved closer, so I am around the corner, but into your home might be a little much for now. But I will be here every day, we can schedule your treatments around our work and school schedules, so that one of us is always here with you in the house. I assume that’s what the family dinner Sunday is for? To tell the whole tribe?” and she nods and smiles. “I have an army of kids, I figured Dave was right and letting them help as much as they can or want to.” Killian smiles at her, “It’s going to be ok Ruth, I just have a feeling.”

“Is it the same kind of feeling that you had when you put that ring on my daughter?” She cocks her head to side smiling. He blushes, “It wasn’t a proposal Ruth, god I would never do that without asking you or Dave, both of you. I made a promise to Emma is all, a promise to be here as long as she wants me to be.” Ruth nods, “okay. No proposals until college, alright? And no grandbabies either until she is done with nursing school” and Killian pales, letting out a shaky laugh. “Understood.” Ruth stands, “I am heading to work, so I will see you guys later, let the kids know I’ll be home around 4” and she kissed his hair and headed towards her room.

Killian finished his coffee and went to wake Emma, knowing she had to work but Dave headed him off at the steps. “Morning” Killian said, and Dave eyed him. “Sleeping over again Jones?” He nodded, I could lie and say it won’t be a regular thing, but your mom asked me to be here more, for Em, for you, for her. So, is that going to be a problem?” Dave looked at him and shook his head. “Just make sure you have clothes on, alright?” and Killian laughed and nodded. “I am heading to work, was going to wake Emma up before I head home” and Dave nodded. “See you later roomie” Killian taunted and laughed while Dave glared at him. “Still my sister man” and Killian ignored him still laughing.

He ran his fingers up Emma’s spine, her curls dried in a wild blonde tangle, and she looked so peaceful. “Em” he said kissing her cheek, and she stirred. “Hmmmm” “I’ve got to get to work, I’ll see you later love” and she peeked her eyes open and puckered her lips, and he kissed her soundly. “love you” she said sleepily, and he agreed. “Bye” and he grabbed his backpack heading home. Liam and Elsa were drinking coffee when he walked in, and Liam greeted him, Elsa coming to hug him.

“How are you, are the Nolan’s ok?” and he nodded. “As well as can be expected” he said leaning against the counter. “I am glad she told me” Liam said quietly. “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if we left and got a call, I wish I could stay to help her, return the kindness she has shown us since the day she met us” he said looking down at his hands. Killian came and clapped his hands on his brothers shoulders and kissed his head. “I’ll be doing that; you just focus on staying in one piece for us. But I have to get to work, dinner tonight, packing?” And Liam nodded. I’ll be home around 4, so I’ll just be boxing here, maybe I can help you take a few things to your new place, you have the keys, right?” and Killian nodded. “Alright, I will see you later. Bye Elsa” and he went to shower quickly and head off to work.

@captainswanouat @captainswoon @captain-swan-coffee @ao3feed-cs @kmomof4 @onceuponadaily @itsfabianadocarmo @lieutenantswan @kymbersmith-90 @killiansprincss @mrs-emma-swan-jones @hollyethecurious

@stahlop @hookedonkillianforlife87 @holdingoutforapiratehero

@jrob64 @teamhook @purplehawkcaptain @sals86 @killiancomeback2me @killiansprincss @karlyfr13s @myfearless-love @resident-of-storybrooke

@thesschesthair @the-captains-ayebrows @jonesfandomfanatic @laschatzi @tiganasummertree @donteattheappleshook @purplehawkcaptain

#emma swan #once upon a time #killian jones #ouat au

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candideangel · 4 years ago

Text

Abanian AU - Suspending Trust

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3607 Pairing: Crystalangel (G’raha Tia x Angelique) A splinter piece of the Abanian AU from @invidia1988 that probably doesn’t occur until later in the timeline! G’raha and Angelique get a little bit more intimate for their time together.

Kind of Kinky, with body-worship (maybe)!

“Do you trust me?”

The words seemed to practically reverberate from the Phoenix’s ace archer’s throat. They had dismissed themselves to one of the more private rooms, for the moment away from the charges who would be well protected by the Lakshmi group. Not many would come knocking unless there was immediate provocation, so here they were after their little alley tryst that had brought them to this same room in the heat of the moment. Angelique, one of the ladies from Ramuh was lying on her side as they shared wine, the purple silk cushions providing some relief from the stone floor while G’raha Tia’s fingers would slowly play with her bangs, brushing her down hair from her usual wild ponytail.

“Mm?” Angelique hummed as she swirled the golden cup of the deep red wine sloshing around inside. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t come here with you, unarmed, unguarded if I didn’t trust you.” It was a notion that made the red haired Miqo’te chuckle as his fingers brushed along the length of her neck with just the tip of his finger.

“Oh, that I know, but my dear one that isn’t the truth behind my words.” He replied softly, he would take another drink of the wine, the bottle mostly empty from between the two of them. “I ask, do you trust me, in the ways of intimacy.” he felt her skin slightly quiver from under his touch. Ah, such a touch starved little thing she had been, her body quivering with any notion of skin to skin contact. It brought back wonderful memories of how he had her body under his, arching, toned muscles flexing and trembling against his palms.

“That depends, what are your intentions?” Angelique moved to sit up, carefully as the room spun a little from the imbibing they were partaking in. G’raha chuckled slightly and leaned in to place a kiss upon her lips and his ear flicked when he brushed them against her neck and hearing the ever soft whimper, barely tasting the metallic of the gold adornments on the traditional garb.

“Mm…” he closed his eyes, sucking a spot against her neck, a space he knew he always liked to mark and show people who she was with, but he held back the crave to fully bite with his fangs, what would the fun in that be? When he pulled away he gave her a charming and yet devilish smile, “...I would like to be able to worship you without you having control until I allow it.” He spoke calmly. “Tie your wrists and lift you from the floor and leave you completely vulnerable to me. Now I ask you again, my stormcloud, do you trust me?”

Silence fell between them, Angelique could feel a soft hand brush against her neck, thumb brushing against her jawline. While she didn’t shudder, her green eyes averted a little as she thought about it.He would do nothing on purpose to harm her, he did like her...maybe even loved her the moment they laid their eyes on each other. The feeling of being cornered, pressed and submitting to him...it was a thrilling notion. She did trust him. So even as she looked at him, bobbing her head in a nod, he could see his eyes illuminate with excitement.

“Wonderful!” He spoke excitedly, tail moving back and forth as G’raha would help Angelique to her feet. “Please, get undressed, I’ll prepare everything else.”

Angelique did smile a little as she watched G’raha get to work, going to one of the many silk purple curtains that were suspended from the ceiling in order to tug it down. In the meantime, she would remove all the gold jewelry on her body, setting them on the floor before reaching back to the clasp that kept the wrap around her chest together, letting it all start falling to the floor in a coil like a purple snake. The rest was more simple by removing the belt and sliding the skirt down her legs and letting it pool with everything else. When she turned, G’raha had tossed the long curtain over a space between a very sturdy beam, creating even sides for the moment and when he turned ears perked forward at the sight of her body bare before him, a mark healing along her inner thigh from a bite...but he had to do everything in his power to not touch for the moment as he raised a hand to gesture for Angelique over.

Angelique did come to his beckoning and G’raha would hold one end of the silken fabric. “Wrists together. I’m going to bind you, but know deep down none of this is to cause you hurt. This is for just me and you...enjoying each other’s presence...differently. And if you are ever at discomfort don’t hesitate to say anything. Promise?”

“I promise.” the blonde would swear to him, shifting slightly nervously at the fact his eyes were on her, but it was obvious he was holding back his urges for the moment. When she brought her wrists together he would wrap the fabric around a few times and made sure the knot would be taut enough to hold. Reaching over he would give her a deeply passionate kiss before their game of trust would start.

Before the lady of Ramuh could believe it, her body was hanging like a prize as her toes were barely off the ground, the big ones not even a full ilm off the cool stone floors. G’raha had used a small set up to where something sturdy was placed nearby to hold the other knot to keep her there, and here she was; suspended and under his gaze. Angelique’s cheeks were already a soft shade of red, only deepening when his large hands burned a hot trail along the skin of her hips, his internal body temperature matching his namesake group. Hot like a fire, but didn’t actually burn, still the touch causing her to squirm ever so slightly.

“You look rather beautiful like this, my stormcloud.” he purred, sliding his hands up purposefully slow, avoiding her prominent breasts and up along her neck, sliding to the back of it, fingertips brushing along the hairline. “How does it feel?” he asked softly, punctuating his question with a kiss as he stood on his toes a little himself in order to simply reach.

“Mm…” she shivered a little, perhaps this time it was anticipation that was flowing through her veins. “...It’s okay...I can take a little strain…” she spoke softly, and it seemed to make him smile, as he leaned in again, more passionate than the last. Their lips collided, teeth scraping against lower lips until G’raha’s tongue slowly brushed against the seam of her lips. He was asking permission that Angelique granted to him as their tongues played against one another, moans swallowed by each other’s sealed lips. Meanwhile the miqo’te’s hands trailed from his neck, going down along her back to her hips, then his hands took hold of her backside. Angelique inhaled sharply in surprise, but it was the strike of palm to skin that had caused her to pull back from their kiss and let out a moan at the sting that felt like it hurt...but similarly felt so nice.

“Mm...my I didn’t expect that from you.” G’raha teased a string of saliva trailing down the corner of his lips, evidence of their earlier kiss and he still absently licked his lips. The taste of the wine still lingered, his palm would gently rub the sore spot that had he had slapped if only to soothe the sting.

Angelique looked at him and fought back the urge to chuckle, G’raha was unashamed of his behavior, and he would surely not apologize. This was his game, and she would certainly play with him. But she did smile a little to him and that seemed to be encouraging because he would lean in and plant kisses from the corner of her mouth and starting to trail where he could reach down to her jawline and to her neck.

A shiver coursed through her veins again as he would start to kiss there, giving attention to her bared neck. His teeth would scrape against pulse points, mouth encompassing further as he sucked and teased until red marks would start to bloom. Though once he was satisfied with the one side he mirrored similar markings and kisses on the side he left unattended as his hands would work along her navel, two fingers trailing up along in a slow movement before his hand would hold her breast, caressing and rubbing the handful of flesh he grasped. “You’re so beautiful.” he praised her, “More than just hanging there vulnerable before me, your spirit is beautiful too...gods...to have this body of yours so selfishly to myself…” his words trailed off as kisses caressed her clavicle and down her right breast. “...I fear any man would get rather jealous that I have one as wonderful as you…” he gave her a faint smile to let Angelique know he was simply teasing, but the praises made her cheeks flush red as a tomato.

“Mngh...Raha...don’t say such unfair things-ah!” Angelique gasped in surprise, cutting off her protests as a slight moan passed her lips again, but it was as his mouth encompassed around one of the dusty pink nipples and he sucked softly, teeth scraping again, but his tongue did most of the work laving around in a tight circle that the feeling even caused her toes to curl. His hand though pinched the other unattended one between his thumb and index finger, teasing and playing even as the one he had his lips on pebbled and pert under his ministrations. Even as he pulled away G’raha would kiss the side of it and his eyes looked to her while his lips curled to a smile.

“Still okay?” he wondered as his fingers continued to tease and rub the nipple he had even as he felt it harden under, making Angelique shake as nerves were becoming all the more sensitive.

“Y-Yes…” she gasped softly, and the miqo’te nodded, almost rewarding that answer with his mouth taking over a softer version of the treatment he had done to her previously, leaving it red and swollen from the bite.

“That’s my girl.” he praised, beaming proudly. Of course he was being careful with Angelique, he always would when indulging in these moments. He wouldn’t be too rough with her, not this time. This was simple, just exploring the woman’s body more thoroughly than when they rushed headlong and she had taken most of the command at the time.

His kisses proceeded to trail hotly from there, down her stomach, tongue dipping into her navel as he felt the muscles twitch and spasm. His ears still perked to the sound of her moans in pleasure. However, he felt like he was a bit cruel as he avoided her core, even as he glanced to see the glistening juices that had come down from her thighs from all the excitement. G’raha would lift one leg, trailing his mouth along the smooth velvet skin, his nose catching the scent of the body oil she had used in the day’s bath. Citrus and vanilla, so clean. When he reached the ankle he moved back up and along the length of her leg, back to her inner thigh, planting soft kisses here and there, but her loudest moan yet would come when his teeth sank back over the current bite mark he had presented on her inner thigh. It wasn’t enough to draw blood like the last, but it did cause her body to jerk against the strains, even whining quietly.

“Raha...please...s-stop...teasing…” she pleaded quietly, shaking a little when his tongue lapped against the leaking excitement that was coming from her center.

“One more...just hold out then I’ll let you have what you want.” G’raha chided gently. He would keep to his word, repeating again on the opposite limb he ignored, but he playfully bit a little harder and more along her leg this time, feeling her muscles tense while she squirmed against her binds, but knew she couldn’t go everywhere.

Much to Angelique’s relief and pleasure however, G’raha kept to his promise as the flat of his tongue finally touched against her slit; lapping at the sweet spot that made her chorus moans that practically echoed in the chamber. She tasted so delightfully sweet on his tongue, tinged with a little bit of sinfulness that she had become so wet from just the kisses and anticipation alone. Perhaps it was the excitement deep down as he held all the power for the moment, letting him be her captor. Bringing his hands up along her inner thighs and brought his thumbs to part open her slit for easy access in his kneeled position on the floor, he felt a little proud seeing such a quivering pink bud shaking from it all and to soothe that need he traced his tongue from opening to the little pink bud as he could feel her tense and writhe more the silk held firm instead of fraying to break under the strain.

Angelique was melting and falling deep into the pleasure as she could feel G’raha’s tongue and lips caress her clit, keeping his movements soft and easy as he kept her spread open for him. A fiery coil was building up at her center, aching so badly to be quenched. “Raha...oh gods…” she panted as her chest heaved, eyes glazed as she seemed to stare far into oblivion. She wasn’t going to last if he kept this up, he was chasing her to pleasure, adoring her every moment. Her toes curled and absently her hips rocked, wanting to seek some kind of relief despite being held up by her wrists. The moment she glanced down she could see him look to her with those loving eyes, before he shut them and his tongue ceased the teasing on her clit, dragging down just to her entrance.

“So eager and wet for me.” he purred quietly before his tongue pushed into the cavernous space. If it were anything to make her cry out it was the delightful shock of feeling his tongue inside, squirming and writhing against her walls as he thoroughly worked to get the taste as a thumb moved away from its hold and instead started to work her bead along with his mouthing.

“Fuck!” she cursed back and hips arching and he didn’t move a hand against it to halt her. As he continued to work her, his name, his true name fell from her lips like a kind of verbal worship, something most often saved for their patron deities that watched over and they lived under. Tonight was only for him to hear, the sound of her coming undone. “Raha...Raha...ah...AH! RAHA!” G’raha could feel her thighs tighten around him for a moment, the chanting of his name reaching a crescendo, voice reaching higher until she reached that precipice, coming undone by his touches, releasing herself as he would be there to drink it all in as a deep purr resonated deep in his chest.

The purring seemed to continue even as he pulled away, licking at the juices of his lover’s oversensitive slit before he would lick at his lips first, savoring the taste before wiping the rest away with the back of his hand. “Are you okay?” he asked, shifting his weight a little as he felt that familiar burning sensation he had been ignoring deep down in his core and nethers, but Angelique was hanging limp there, panting from just the moment she had seen somewhere much further past the stars.

“M-Mhm…” Angelique nodded a little when she came back around, though admittedly her response had definitely been a delay and he felt rather proud of that. Taking a breath her green eyes looked down to him and lower, absently licking at her lips when she saw that he was certainly ignoring his own pleasure to give her hers. “Let me down, my fire…” she breathed and gave him a slight smile, “Chase your pleasure like you did me.”

With that proposition there was no point to him disagreeing, G’raha would untie the anchor first, letting Angelique down feet flat on the floor and she brought her arms down so he could release the knot on her binds. Once they were off there was a flurry of messy activity, the archer’s clothes trailed across the floor, all the noise in the world aside from their feet traipsing to the pile of cushions to use was the moans and sucks of their kisses with soft gasps for air. Angelique was laying under G’raha, staring up to the disheveled red hair, and the soft look in his discolored eyes, leaning up to give him a soft peck on the lips. She admired his form, it was strong, toned, and for her to truly see. “I love you…” she breathed against his lips.

“And I you.” came G’raha’s reply, moving to position himself at her waiting entrance, the tip brushing until he would press the swollen head past the barrier. Angelique tensed slightly under him and her back arched, sensitive from her first orgasm earlier. Her walls already tightened up around him, but G’raha pushed bit by bit until he would be fully inside to the hilt, shaking already as her walls fluttered and clenched around him. “Ah...s-so tight for me…” he gasped, placing his hand against her stomach and gave her a wry little smile. “...I can practically feel myself in you~.” he teased, watching as her cheeks reddened.

“Mn…” all that escaped her was a moan and it made the miqo’te laugh as his hands went to her waist, pulling back before sinking himself back in. His pace started slow and easy, each time he pressed he could feel his manhood ache within her sex, but he wanted this to last for a moment.

Hips struck against hips, joining at his pace as the moans began to escalate, Angelique raising her hips to join his, staring to create a rhythm to their own music. While G’raha would kiss her, he wanted to hear her sing her song, his fingers tightening around her waist. “Do you want me to help you see the stars once more?” he questioned, hips angling a little as he stopped, poised to continue, but he would wait until the blonde gave him permission.

“Yes, yes…” her voice was high, pleading, green eyes wet with a few tears from the ache that was boiling in her nethers again. “Make me see stars again, my flame.” she pleaded, raising her hips a bit, but he forced her back down gently and it made her whimper with want. “Join me...I need…”

“I know...I know…” he husked out and as his hips angled he pushed back in hard and fast, making Angelique cry out as he brushed against the special bundle of nerves deep inside. He felt her tighten around him like a vice that he would continue more shallow and deep thrusts, unable to pull out further. Again, and again he would hit that sweet set of nerves that had made Angelique cry out so sweetly in his ears.

“Raha...aahhh!” her fingers clenched the silk cushion under her grip, knuckles turning white and a faint shred appeared and a poke of white feathers. It didn’t take much more for her eyes to practically roll back and see the stars again flashing before her as she became undone around him as her back arched. His name is practically a babble now, incoherent but there, but G’raha never tired of hearing it.

“Mn...Angelique…” he bit his lip feeling everything tighten, muscles, himself. “I love you, my stormcloud.” he breathed, feeling himself losing his intelligent thoughts, sentences trailing off into incoherence themselves. He spoke her name like the praises she did earlier, thrusts becoming rough but uneven until he saw white, he swore he saw stars just like she asked him to join. His peak coming strong as he came deep within Angelique, thrusting shallowly with a few jerking movements until he released all he could offer of himself into someone he loved.

G’raha’s breathing heaved as he felt his arms unable to hold himself up and without pulling out from Angelique’s sex he laid himself down onto her, the only movement he made was forcing themselves to their sides. No other sound except labored breathing and whimpering moans between them as their eyes were closed until everything calmed.

When some clarity and focus returned from glazed eyes, the two looked at each other and were both sweat soaked and flushed red. The pair smiled and G’raha set a hand between them which Angelique took, squeezing a little bit as they were curled together. “I love you, my fire…” she spoke softly leaning close as their foreheads brushed and G’raha couldn’t help the smile grow more as he nuzzled against her.

“And I love you, my storm.” he cooed softly.

“Would you like to do this again, sometime…?” she inquired and G’raha’s shoulders shook with a bit of amusement.

“So long as we keep it built on the trust with each other. We can do this again and more~.”

“Heh, I look forward to exploring deeper...my dear love.”

#long fic #zesty #ffxiv writing #abanian au #g'raha tia #angelique #crystalangel

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happymetalgirl · 4 years ago

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Rating Christmas Songs

Yep, it’s that time of year we get inundated wherever we go with mostly shitty Christmas music, usually the same stuff as the years before and the many years before. There are some songs among the barren crop of overplayed tunes that I think are pretty enjoyable, but for the most part I feel pretty confident that most of us are just putting up with the vast majority of the holiday playlist (I mean no one is dying to play any of these songs any other time of year, so they can’t be that great), so it’s time to set the record straight.

Here’s a rating of a few of the season’s musical staples and some brief reasons behind them. I’m sure I’m missing a few classics, but do feel free to bring them up and I will offer my thoughts on them. Granted these songs all have dozens, of not hundreds or thousands of versions, so I’m kind of going by an average of what I generally hear, not the dubstep remix version or even my favorite version necessarily.

“Jingle Bells”

The classic, easy to sing, easy to play on whatever instrument, upbeat childhood Christmas song. It’s hard to mess this one up, and I’m just glad it’s not trying to get all overly serious about Christmas as many of the songs further down this list do. But I mean, it’s fucking “Jingle Bells”, who actually gives a shit about this plinky-ass song.

5/10

“O Holy Night”

This one’s cool the first several years you hear it because it sounds pretty grand and epic, but it does wear off after awhile. Still, I’d rather hear this song than most, and I’ve yet to hear it truly butchered. So cheers to that!

7/10

“Jingle Bell Rock”

The failed swaggering “update” or cousin of the classic children’s Christmas song, it’s one of those songs that sounds like a bunch of upper class white folks sipping wine and putting on the usual façade of in-person Facebook-style humble bragging and life-highlighting about their year for the family they’ve not flexed on all year or since Thanksgiving. The song though is so drab and seemingly intentional sucked of lol the fun the kid’s song had, and in its place is just overly drolly Sinatra-imitation with no spirit at all. It’s the definition of background music, and it’s for the worst kind of background. Dancing to it sure as hell sucks. If you’re hearing this song, you’re probably not having as much fun as you’re supposed to be for a song that’s supposedly more “rock”.

2/10

"O Tanenbaum"

While his semi-jazzed-up approach that characterizes the rest of the soundtrack still seeps into this song, I’ve always loved the more stripped back piano-centric approach that Vince Guaraldi takes with this song on the classic A Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack. The simple and sweet lullaby-esque melody at the core of the song really works well with the instrumentally minimal approach (which I do hear most often) and it evokes a sense of very sweet nostalgia (for me at least), and I can’t not like it.

9/10

“Angels We Have Heard on High”

You know I’ve heard some pretty alright versions of this song when it’s pushed toward its more energetic side. That over the top run on “glOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoria” tends to be the make-or-make moment of the song, and when a singer or choir commits to it and goes all out, it can sound pretty rad; I’m sure some power metal band somewhere out there has put a decent spin on it. The rigid, traditional delivery I hear more often, though, sadly sounds more often like it’s had the life sucked out of it.

7/10

“Silent Night”

Probably my favorite of the soft Christmas songs, just soulful melodies abound here and written in a way that hasn’t encouraged too many stupid renditions.

9/10

“Santa Baby”

This song is just fuckin’ weird, and I get the place of romance it’s coming from lyrically: finally dropping the charade of Santa Claus and being romantic with the speaker’s husband after putting on the act for the children. It’s cute and endearing, but god is it always so weirdly sung, in a hyperseductive baby voice, not subtle at all, and kind of not fitting with the kind of sweet endearing romanctic tone you would think it’d be carrying if you just read the lyrics. There are definitely worse Christmas/holiday romance songs, and I can definitely imagine this song being performed more sweetly than it usually is.

6/10

“Hark! the Herald Angels Sing!”

This. Song. Is. A. Banger. Glorious and triumphant as shit! It sounds good slow and fast, but definitely best when it’s played bold and loud, as opposed to some contrived-ass attempt at a ballad. This song feels like finishing a marathon. I’d pay to hear Khemmis do this fuckin’ song.

10/10

“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”

Sinatra’s version of the song is probably the most famous at this point, and as a consequence, the very title I think tends to invoke his signature smooth delivery on its own. I used to hate this one, but these days I find its naturally soothing character much more welcoming, god, especially this year. I can see why some find it to droll and sloggy, but I think it’s a nice wind-down tune.

7/10

“Last Christmas”

You know, the original synth-pop version by Wham! isn’t too bad on its own; George Michael’s delivery is pretty heartfelt and I can see why it’s become such modern Christmas staple. However, in the context of Christmas background music, that repetitive chorus refrain that seems to be the only lyric anyone knows in the song, gets really grating when it’s the only thing that sticks out, the more scaled-back delivery of the verses aiding their being buried in the chatter with your eggnog-sipping relatives. Furthermore, I’ve yet to hear a cover of the song less dry than sandpaper. Positive points to the original only.

6/10

“Away in a Manger”

This song certainly gets points for its strong narrative consistency, but aside from the “the stars in the sky” line, the melody is really really lame, and infantile in a bad way, and I have yet to hear a version that doesn’t sound like it was done by or similar to an apathetic children’s choir. It’s that quintessential song that every church kindergarten choir gets forced to sing because it’s nice and slow and narrow-range that all the kids look absolutely braindead singing. Not that it’s ever the kids’ fault or anything, it’s just a boring-ass song whose weak-ass strategy hinges on a bunch of 5-year-olds getting into something they clearly don’t give a shit about.

4/10

“The Little Drummer Boy”

You know, I could envision a slow-building post-rock-esque version of this song being pretty cool, but to date, all I have heard is stiff corny solo vocal delivery a la Angela from The Office and haphazard attempts at injecting tons of energy into the song that don’t really fix the kooky melody at the core of it. I swear you can always hear whoever is singing it getting red in the face from the needless intensity.

3/10

"Christmas Time Is Here"

Another solid cut from the soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas, its rather simple instrumental foundation serves as a pretty solid introductory piece for the season; it feels so much like welcoming in the winter. And then of course the jazz embellishments on the instrumental version are some of the best in the Christmas genre, though listening to the soundtrack these days makes me wonder what it would be like if a more bombastic and dynamic jazz band took these songs on a more wild ride. I would love to hear that.

8/10

“Joy to the World”

It’s a little bit cheesy, but I kinda appreciate how ridiculously celebratory this tune is. It’s another one that I think would be interesting to hear Khemmis do a quick cover of, despite the religious theme that doesn’t really fit into their style. At the very least, it always sounds fun or, indeed, joyous.

7/10

“We Three Kings”

I’m not convinced anyone cares about this song.

5/10

“The First Noel”

This is another one of those songs whose runny melody tends to lead to it being delivered so often way too seriously, never really all too fun or worthy of the seriousness either.

3/10

“O Come, O Come Emanuel”

This is another one of those songs that, on the surface, seems more genuine with its minor key and often stoic delivery, and that definitely makes it better than the vast majority of Christmas songs, but the melody and lyrics are a bit oddly mismatched, and the melody that serves as the key appeal in the song does wear thin as the years go on. Nevertheless, I always do seem to find a cool new version ever year or two.

7/10

“Do You Hear What I Hear?”

Goddamn this is such a goofy-ass song. Who the hell made this? I cannot take it seriously. One point for all the kids for the apt “do you smell what I smell?”

1/10

“Mary Did You Know?”

Again, who wrote these lyrics? Like, in the story Mary made up to explain her out-of-wedlock pregnancy, that was kind of the main thing, that this kid would do some crazy shit. I can’t take this song seriously either, especially when it gets the goofy overly operatic treatment.

3/10

“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town”

It’s another one of those songs that literally just says what Santa Claus does. Musically it’s catchy-ish, but I mean it’s about Santa Claus, and it’s so often sung in that overly serious, toned down Motown style that no kid likes. I never liked hearing it then, and I don’t now.

3/10

“12 Days of Christmas”

Structurally iconic, this song really doesn’t offer anything beyond that; have you ever tried listening to someone doing the whole thing? It gets old really fast, and the fact that the “halfway” point in the song, the six geese a-laying, isn’t actually the halfway point, because the verses get longer and longer... fuck! The only thing this song is good for is for structuring workouts around, nothing regarding listening to the song. It gets one point for its utility.

1/10

“It Came upon a Midnight Clear”

We really are in a stretch of trash Christmas songs right now. I don’t think this is anyone’s favorite Christmas song. It’s so lethargic and sleep-inducing, I’m falling asleep just thinking about it.

3/10

“We Wish You a Merry Christmas”

Eh, it’s kinda not a really important song. At least it wakes you up, but apart from throwing some energy into the Christmas playlist that many are often desperate for, it’s just a cheery addition of holiday-themed white noise.

4/10

“What Child Is This?”

Finally some good fucking food. I’ve heard some baller versions of this captivatingly grand song, whose accidentals and minor key really make it one of the more interesting listens during the holiday season. I would dig an Opeth cover or a Pallbearer cover, or... a Khemmis cover.

8/10

“Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!”

This is just one of those standard, old-timey, inoffensive season-themers. It’s alright, I’ve never heard any version of it that really blows my mind.

5/10

“Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”

This one is almost indistinguishable from, but significantly less annoying than, “Jingle Bell Rock” and is similarly stiff in a way that it’s clearly not meant to be.

3/10

“White Christmas”

This might take the cake for the sleepiest Christmas song out there. It is SLOW, like Bell Witch should ironically do a 20-minute-long cover of it just to see how it goes.

4/10

“It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year”

The shopping mall theme song. It’s always given that Sinatra treatment and it only barely fits well enough into that style.

4/10

“Feliz Navidad”

This one always feels like it needs to be sung with a big, cheerful group to capture the liveliness that its main appeal is based in, which puts it at a distinct disadvantage this year. Still, it’s always a fun, sometimes even bouncy song to play during the holiday season.

7/10

“Grandma Got Run over by a Reindeer”

I do actually welcome the absurd narrative that has somehow made itself one of the season’s ironic staples, and its slightly dark humor makes for a nice change of pace in the playlist with its upbeat, campy humor.

6/10

“Deck the Halls”

Fa la la la la, la la la no.

Annoying as fuck: 2/10

“Frosty the Snowman”

God, this song should be way more cheery and kid-friendly than it is. I mean, I’m sure kids don’t mind it, but it’s just yet ANOTHER one of those songs that can’t escape its old-timey suit-and-tie incarnation for the liveliness it desperately needs.

4/10

“God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”

One of the more compositionally clunky of the well-known minor-key Christmas songs, this one unfortunately tends to show why minor-key songs are generally a weird fit for theme. I have heard a good few modern renditions though that make the song worth keeping around.

6/10

“Jingle in the Jungle”

This one’s for the real ones out there. “Jingle in the Jungle” is not a real Christmas song per se, but it pushes the boundaries; it’s courageous. The song comes from the television series, Bob’s Burgers, in a stressful Christmas-themed episode where the musically adventurous son of the titular character, Gene, burns out his dad’s cell phone battery waiting on hold for a radio station to request this song. The phone dies and he does not get the chance to request the song, but a Christmas miracle occurs, and the station decides to play the obscure, bongo-laden song anyway, and it sure is a fun minute-long diddy.

8/10

“Wonderful Christmastime”

Paul McCartney’s peppy Christmas tune that only kinda accomplishes its light-hearted goal is simply one of many throwaway inoffensive modern Christmas songs that seems to have only gained cultural traction due to it being repetitive and simplistic af, and being made by a Beatle.

5/10

“Happy Xmas (War Is Over)”

Well it would only make sense to have the battle of the Beatles here with John Lennon’s standout Christmas track, a far more soulful, bombastic, and triumphant song that echoed his idealistic spirit in a way that makes this song not all too different from his standout solo works and compositions with The Beatles. It’s a warm, hopeful song that draws from a grounding in the harshness of reality rather than some escapist fantasies about Santa or religion. Despite the acknowledgement of the ills of the world, Lennon’s vision of Christmas and his wish for the world is a day of recognition of love and unity, which is purer than 99% of the dogmatic or materialistic Christmas music above, and definitely the song right below this one.

9/10

“The Christmas Shoes”

Alright, rubbing the hands together, we’re coming to the end here, with this fucking song. It’s not the most famous Christmas song, thank God, but when I heard it for the first time, I was immediately repelled by the saccharine melody, uncannily blank-faced delivery, and sappy lyrics, but it’s one of those special songs that gradually reveals several layers of shit the more you fixate on it. For the uninitiated, the song came out in the year 2000, from the Christian band NewSong; it’s an aggressively sentimental holiday ballad with a bit of pop country vocal flair that only adds to the sinister hokey-ness of the lyrics. And that really is the ugliest facet of this song; as sickeningly cheesy as the music is, the simple lyrics here are more morbid and more disgusting than the grossest brutal death metal songs. The song is a simple narrative about a poor boy buying his sick mom some nice shoes on Christmas Eve so she can look nice for Jesus when she dies, tonight, on Christmas Eve. Yeah, it’s fucking sickening. The song is narrated from the perspective of a man in the store when the boy is buying the shoes and the narrator offers to buy the shoes for him, and he muses vaguely and confusingly on his generosity and Jesus being the “true” meaning of Christmas. Yes, there are so many questions being begged by this narrative. Why would Jesus give a shit about the shoes? Why is getting shoes this divine Christmas gesture? How do these shoes even come close to offsetting the pain and suffering and loss this family is suffering. This is like the opposite of John Lennon’s “Happy Xmas” in that it’s offering a pathetic consolation for the cruelty of a world where a loving God apparently offers only a stranger’s mild and momentary generous gesture for a poor family in the thralls of a mother’s illness. It’s grounded in the same reality that John Lennon presents, but it whitewashes it and minimizes the suffering in a manipulative way to shoehorn a rather cliche reminder to adhere to religious dogma and to keep your mind pure and holy and only on Jesus. A plain-faced telling of the narrative on its own makes it seem kind of benign, but the weirdly sappy tone of it all does a pretty poor job of hiding how contrived the emotion is and how unnatural it all is. Every facet of the lyrics is crafted to maximize the superficial primal tug at the heartstrings; it’s supposed to feel extremely tender and sweet, and aside from being completely transparently manufactured, the response it delivers to the story it sets up is creepily unhuman, the opposite of a natural response to the details of what the song presents, and its misplaced sense of justice makes the song a pretty apt representation of so much wrong with evangelicals’ attitudes surrounding Christmas.

0/10

“All I Want for Christmas Is You”

by Mariah Carrey. Ending on a positive note. Probably the best and most classic modern Christmas song to come out in my lifetime, it’s a sweet, romantic, upbeat love tune that really captures the best aspects of the holiday season. Never mind the relatives and their dumb political views and drama or the religious nonsense that people get so disingenuously up in arms about, or the consumerism. Christmas at its best is a time to appreciate love, and this song gets it.

9/10

And that is it, for me, I obviously know I will never be able to rate every Christmas/holiday song ever.

I had some time, so I had a little fun and charted the 38 semi-serious ratings of Christmas songs here, which I will also be doing with the 200-something metal albums I’ve been reviewing and now rating at the end of the year. Should be interesting. Now 38 isn’t a particularly huge sample of the huge swath of Christmas songs, nor was it random (I just listed a bunch of songs I was familiar with). It didn’t produce the normal curve I somewhat expect for the larger sample of metal albums later at the end of the year; rather, it shows a two-peak pattern, which could be due to the sample size, or maybe it just illustrates a somewhat unsurprising polarized sample of opinions on Christmas songs. The songs that I remember that are (mostly) pretty common, I either really like or really don’t like, most of the songs are not in the middle. These were songs I have heard for a long time and remembered pretty vividly, so I’ve developed some relatively strong opinions on them. Anyway, look at this graaaaaaphh.

#Christmas #Christmas songs #Christmas music #Holiday songs #holiday music

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abbacchiosbelt · 5 years ago

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Howdy!! First off I just wanna say I adoooooore your writing!! Second, can I request like. General Fluffy La Squadra headcanons for when they’re in a relationship??? ♥️♥️♥️

thank you, friend! and thanks for waiting for this request, i enjoyed it!under the cut for length!

Risotto, who is untraditional in every otherway, enjoys a more classic style to his relationships. He likes date nights,taking his partner out on anniversaries, cooking together, and ending the nighttucked up in bed together. Unfortunately for the Capo, this style ofrelationship isn’t very easy to maintain with his job. He’ll try his best,though. He can’t go out in public as much as he’d like (mainly for yoursafety), so he’ll try to make dates at home romantic.

He doesn’ttalk a lot – but he loves to hear his partner’s voice. Depending on what sortof thing he’s handling, he doesn’t mind if you join him in his office and talkto him while he works. He’s not easily distracted and finds your voice helpshim focus. He likes being read to, as he doesn’t often get the time to read byhimself.

Risottoisn’t one for PDA, but he can’t get enough of you when the two of you arealone. He prefers when you curl up in his lap, or at least sit close enough tohim that the two of you are touching. The time you have together isn’t as muchas he would like, so he intends to make the most of it.

He imitateskisses more than one might expect. (Mostly, so he can pull you up close to himsince most of his partners aren’t tall enough to reach his lips.) His kissesare deep and passionate.

He remembersjust about everything you say – so don’t be surprised if the makeup you wantedor the piece of clothing you were eyeing appears on your bed one day.

Formaggio never expected to settledown, let alone be in a long-term relationship. It’s new territory for him, buthe’s not complaining. He’s going to be the same guy you fell for no matterwhat, but he’s going to focus his affections only on you. Flirt back, though –he likes to be sought after, too.

The biggestcuddler you’ll ever meet. It doesn’t matter if the two of you are in public oralone, he’s going to find some way to get close to you. He likes to wrap hisarms around you more than anything, but he’s more than content to lay his headon your chest and fall asleep as well. His cats will also cuddle you.

He likes tobe spontaneous, so he’ll surprise you with all sorts of dates. New experiencesfuel him, so be ready to take on whatever he gets the two of you into. He stillenjoys going out for a drink, too. Getting the chance to show you off means alot to him, so play it up when the two of you go out to have him like putty inyour hands for the next week.

Even thoughhe’s an adventurous and busy guy, he still loves to laze around with hispartner. Expect some days to be spent cuddled up on the couch with snacks andbeer while the two of you binge-watch trashy TV shows or old movies.

He’ll callyou cheesy pet names as a joke, but he’ll actually get really into it.

Illuso likes to play hard to get, evenwithin his relationships. It’s fun, for him. He likes a partner who is up tothe challenge – but it’s only because he likes you so much that he relented andasked you out in the first place. He teases and flirts and makes littleremarks, if only to see your reaction. Retaliating back will make him evenhappier. Despite his finicky nature, he still showers you with plenty ofaffection, even if he is coy about it sometimes.

He’s alwaysinterested in your hobbies. He wants to know what you like so he can try it outas well. Most of the time, Illuso prefers to stay in the comfort of his own home,so enjoying a hobby together would be important to him. Or, he simply likes tosit with you quietly whilst you read or do something else that isn’t loud. Hewill, however, share gossip with you about the team.

He loves towatch trashy television with you and cuddle up on the couch. When he’s not inpublic, Illuso loves to cling to you and shower you with affection. It’s evenbetter if the two of you are pressed tightly together and laughing on thecouch. Not many people share his sense of humor, so there’s nothing me he lovesthan to laugh with you without feeling judged. He’ll like it even more if you’reinto dark humor.

He likes windowshopping with you – he finds it fun to put together rooms in his head, and whenyou join him, it makes him feel warm in a way he can’t describe.

Illuso is agreat kisser and again, very affectionate in private. His best kisses arealways when he comes home after a long mission.

Pesci is shy and unsure, but he does knowhe loves his S/O a lot! Much of what you have with Pesci is going to be alearning experience, but it’s going to be fun and filled with lots of silly andheartwarming moments.

When he hastime, Pesci likes to take you out on traditional dates, complete with flowersand dinner at a nice restaurant. After, he likes to walk along the pier withyou and enjoy the ocean breeze. He blushes if you hold his hand, but he reallylikes it. He’ll put an arm around you if it’s cold out and hold you close.

He wants toadopt a pet with you very badly. While he loves fish, he thinks it’d be fun toown a fluffy animal. Adopt a cat, dog, or bunny with him and he’ll be a dotingpet parent with you. He always takes pictures of you and your shared pet whenyou’re not watching so he can look at them later since you’re so cute!

Perfect forcuddling, even if he is shy about it at first. He quickly finds that being nearyou makes him feel safe, so he’s more than happy to pull you close or be heldby you.

He lovesoutdoor activities, like hiking and fishing. He adores teaching you how tofish, if you’ve never done it before. Spending time with you in the peacefuloutdoors is his definition of a perfect day – he’ll often pack a picnic for theboth of you to enjoy.

Prosciutto is a bit more traditional – he opensdoors for you, always pays for dates, opens the car door, and doesn’t kiss youthe first time until you give him permission. He does expect a similar sort of treatmentback, though, so he likes if his partner defers decisions to him. A non-traditionalpartner won’t bother him too much, though – he likes their fiery nature.

Despite hisviews, he loves someone he can talk to openly about anything. He values youropinions and finds you engaging to talk to, no matter the subject. He loves tosit with you at night with a glass of wine in hand whilst the two of you talkabout your days, or whatever else you come up with. A parent Prosciutto can behimself front of is important to him.

Charmingwith a bit of a bite – he’s never too mean, but he likes when he gets a quip ortwo back from you. He loves to flirt and make you blush so he can kiss your redcheeks.

He’ll takeyou to the movies often. He enjoys films, and especially enjoys wrapping an armaround his partner while the two of you enjoy it. Be prepared to hear a reviewfrom him afterwards, though!

He can bealoof, but with enough sweet words, you can convince him to cuddle you. He hasthe capacity to be affectionate, he’s just a bit weird about it. Still, he’salways warm and likes to have you sit on his lap. Prosciutto is too good of a kisser.

Melone is extra, but there’s never a dullmoment when you’re dating him! He’s ecstatic to have a S/O and will let youknow it with tons of affection and praise.

He likes todo everything with you, if you’ll let him. Running errands is so much more funwith his partner, in his mind. It makes Melone feel domestic, too. He likes topeople-watch with you when the two of you are out on errands, though he triesto keep his Stand stuff out of it.

Melone willtake you to a lot of interesting places – he’s always looking for new places tovisit, whether it be museums, little hidden shops, or restaurants. He makestime for dates and always treats these outings as such. Melone is the type ofperson to set an outfit out for you in hopes that you’ll wear it.

He wants totake a lot of pictures of you by yourself,and lots of couple pictures as well. He just thinks you’re beautiful and wantsa lot of pictures!

An expert atcuddling – he can’t get enough of being close to you. Pretty good at kissing,but he prefers to use his mouth elsewhere…

Ghiaccio is just as wild and loud as usual,but he takes his time to focus on not directing his anger at you. He cherishes his S/O, because it’srare for people to put up with him for an extended amount of time.

He’s goingto act aloof, still, but you’re the most tolerable person he’s ever met andthere’s nothing more he’d rather do than spend time with you. Whether the twoof you are relaxing in silence or discussing the newest shitty movie in theaters,Ghiaccio is happy to have you there.

He’s active,so he loves having a partner who joins him at the gym and has fun trying newactivities, like rock climbing. He likes swimming, too, though he gets red whenhe sees you in your cute swimsuit. Even if you’re not super active, that’sokay. If you encourage him and come watch him, it’s enough to fuel his ego andmake him feel good.

He willinsist on taking you ice skating, of course, and showing off. If you’re terribleat it, he may grumble and laugh at your expense, but he finds it cute.

If you riffon things with him, he’ll be very pleased. Someone who listens to and encourageshis appropriate rants is a lot of fun, to Ghiaccio.

He’s a bratabout cuddling – he secretly loves it, but he acts strange when it comes toaffection. Just get him really tired and curl up next to him, he’ll love it.

Sorbet & Gelato aren’t exactly a soft couple, but that doesn’t mean theydon’t have tender moments with you sometimes. It’s rare enough that they letsomeone into their relationship – and even rarer that you’ve made it this long.You better enjoy those fluffy moments!

Sorbet likesto hear your thoughts on things – you and Gelato are very different from eachother, and whilst Gelato certainly isn’t dumb, some of his opinions are just��strange. So Sorbet likes to hear what you think about books the two of youread, or how you feel about current news. Maybe it’s bland to some people, but Sorbetlikes it for what it is.

Gelato, onthe other hand, likes introducing you to weird stuff and seeing your reaction.Sorbet always shakes his head, but you give him actual reactions! He won’t pushyour limits too much (not the time for him), but he really just enjoys seeingthe different expressions you make upon seeing what fucked up thing Gelato haschosen to show you this time.

They bothenjoy private dinners with you – preferably cooked by the three of you andenjoyed in the night air with a nice bottle of wine. They’re capable of beingromantic, sometimes. Gelato always pouts about sitting on Sorbet’s lap, butthen wants you to sit on his, so you both crush Sorbet until he bucks you off.

They onlyreveal their secret “old people hobbies” to you – Gelato likes to do thosepuzzles with 1000+ pieces and Sorbet watches really dramatic soap operas. Gelatodoesn’t like when you or Sorbet touch the puzzle, but he likes to have youwatch. Sorbet could spend hours talking to you about the plot of the soap operaand he loves when you sit with him and watch.

#vento aureo #la squadra #jjba headcanons #jojo's bizarre adventure #risotto nero #formaggio #illuso #pesci #prosciutto #melone #ghiaccio #sorbet #gelato #Anonymous #my writing

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franklyshipping · 6 years ago

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The Gooper Adventures ~ Day 2 ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

PART 2 OF THIS LIL SERIES! With Gooper now being established as Iplier's assistant for the week, it's time for patient number one! LET'S DO IT!

Dr Iplier was on his third coffee of the day, and was particularly enjoying it since he was being treated to a little show whilst drinking it. To elaborate, the doctor was observing a dramatic battle between the bravest squish to ever squoosh and the deformed snake of coldness. Gooper was fighting with his stethoscope on his desk and was having the absolute time of his life. Gooper was loving his temporary little home already, and Iplier's regular patients had all taken a shine to him and had all been made to feel relaxed and happier amidst their appointments with him. Now though, it was time for a more special appointment. The door to Iplier's office opened, and the doctor set his coffee down with a smile when he saw his boyfriend entering the room. The Host.

'Hey you.'

The doctor smiled happily, and the little slime ball paused in his battle to focus on the new person. Gooper could tell that he was an Iplier person too because the shapes of his features were very similar to doc-tor Iplier's. Gooper mewled to himself when he saw the man weakly smile and go to the doc-tor.

'H-Hey love...'

Iplier furrowed his brows at the lacklustre in the Host's voice, and then went into full on protective mode when he realised his Host's hands were shaking....along with the rest of him.

'Hey....hey hey hey, what happened my sweet? Here, sit down I'm here I'm right here.'

Iplier took the Host's twitching hands in his own as he led him to the small couch in the room and sat him down in it, and soon Gooper observed the new Iplier shivering and letting out sniffing noises as the doc-tor embraced him. Gooper didn't like hearing those sniffing noses from the new Iplier, because it meant that he was sad, and even though he hadn't properly met him yet....he didn't want him to be sad. The truth was, the Host was once again stressed about writer's block, his creative output, and publishers messing him about; they were basically the usual things except just all happening at the same time.

'I-I-I just d-don't un-...why d-does it a-a-all have t-to...h-happen a-all n-now?'

The Host expressed shakily as he tried to focus on his boyfriend's warm hold and soothing words. The doctor kept leaving the gentlest kisses at his jawline and rubbing his back, rocking the man subtly so that the additional constancy of a rhythm could help him focus too. Iplier whispered.

'I know love I know, I know when everything piles on at once it can be the worst thing in the world, but we'll fix it together okay? We'll get a nice to-do list on the go tonight, yeah? We'll get it all out in braille and we'll get organised, yeah?'

The Host nodded at the doctor's words, and pretty soon was vastly calmer than he had been previously, so Iplier released him from the hug with a loving smile. He stroked the Host's cheek as he purred.

'But....I think I have just the thing to help make you feel even better in the here and now.'

The Host raised an eyebrow...he knew he could have perceived what his doctor had planned, but feeling the giddy excitement of his doctor was too beautiful to ruin. The Host smiled as Iplier drew away, and the doctor offered his hand to Gooper who had been waiting excitedly to see if he could get to be of any help. He gurgled and hopped on, wiggling excitedly as he was brought to the other man; The Host gasped, immediately smiling softly.

'I-Is that Marvin's creation?'

Iplier nodded as he passed the, eagerly wiggling, creature to the Host who was very delicate when he cupped Gooper in his hands. As the Host ran his fingers over the creature carefully so as to understand his appearance, Gooper was enamoured by the warmth of his hands and set about nuzzling them straight away. Iplier smiled at the absolutely precious scene.

'Yes indeed, isn't he adorable?!'

Before the Host could reply, Gooper let out a gurgle; he knew praise when he heard it because of the change in tone of voice, and boy did Gooper get even happier and nuzzlier from the praise. The Host felt a warmth building in his chest as he pet the creature, nodding with an expression of aghast happiness on his face.

'He's so soft and sweet....he must be protected at all costs.'

Iplier grinned, giggling under his breath at his boyfriend's instant pledge to the little being of perfection; the doctor felt exactly the same of course. Iplier couldn't deny that he was just as besotted with the little thing as the Host was, he was like the most full-proof therapy animal in the entire universe.

'Ahagreed.'

Also, now that the doctor could see that his Host was calm, he set about changing out the dressings over his eyes for fresh ones, as was the purpose of the appointment. Technically the Host could do them himself or wait till Iplier was finished with a shift, but he always liked checking that he was okay at work since the doctor had a habit of prioritising caffeine over food and sitting down; this way they could BOTH make sure that the other was okay. The Host relaxed as the doctor went about his work, and by the time he'd finished, Gooper had slid up to perch on Host's shoulder so he could observe the procedure curiously.

'Ahhh, I look fractionally less grotesque now.'

The Host spoke in a deadpan voice whilst bearing a grin, ahh that good old sarcastic self-deprecation, the Host's piece de resistance. Iplier pursed his lips, before leaning down and kissing Host's while murmuring with loving sternness.

'You could never look grotesque, even if you tried to narrate it.'

The Host's cheeks went pink at the blunt compliment as he spluttered embarrassedly; damned unexpected affection, it got him every damn time. The Host ended up blushing even more though, and not just because of his doctor's satisfied, flirtatious smirk. Gooper had gone through a thought process again: The Iplier's cheeks did the thing where they change colour and get warmer, and that meant that he was getting the happy feelings! Gooper didn't see why the two Ipliers' faces had to touch to make that happen, but if it made happiness happen then Gooper figured that it was a good thing! Either way, upon seeing the blush, Gooper couldn't help but nuzzle it, since he knew it was a good thing.

'Awww he's happy to see you happy!'

Iplier's mouth was agape as he observed the outburst of affection the little monster was dishing out, coming to the realisation that Gooper had a bigger understanding of a lot of things, like how blushy people were generally happy people, and that made him happy! It was almost too precious to process, particularly for the Host who was flustered into silence; the man didn't receive excesses of affection day to day, so to receive so much just had him in a tizz.

'I-I-I....h-heheh....y-y-....y-yes....I-I s-s-suppose....'

The Host stuttered primarily, but did let out a few soft hums at the nuzzling; the only reason he didn't nuzzle back was because he didn't want to risk knocking little Gooper off his shoulder. The Host was soon going to learn however, that Gooper has a very...very strong grip. The Host hadn't noticed that his blush was creeping down his neck; Gooper however, very much had noticed....and was following it with his nuzzling.

'W-Woahwait-whahat's h-he dohohoing?!'

The Host tittered, since he was a rather....sensitive individual. The doctor meanwhile, was elated, because he had been oh so hopeful that this would happen. Iplier leant against his desk with folded arms, leisurely watching the scene unfold before him.

'Seems like Gooper wants to give you a little treatment of his own.'

Iplier smugly remarked, chuckling as he watched the Host try to scrunch his shoulders....but no movement could hinder the rapidly nuzzling monster. Gooper had reached the crook of the Host's neck now and was having a field day, nestling himself in as much as possible so he could draw out all of the Host's giggles. The Host bore a very nervous smile as he squeaked.

'M-Mahahake hihihim stahahahappihit!'

The Host spoke, ending with a whine which made the doctor laugh amusedly at his darling boyfriend. Then, the doctor smirked and crooned teasingly.

'Oh come now, I think we both know that you not only need this....but very much want this too.'

Iplier was beyond smug as he watched the Host's cheeks light up with colour as he spluttered, consumed by flusteredness at just being called out so evilly! Also, the sight of the Host being caught between a smile and a pout was just absolutely gorgeous to behold. The Host was permitted a little break however, as Gooper made his own observations. The Host Iplier was very, very blushy now, so Gooper had to get all the laughter out of him now too so there was an even balance of strong blushes and strong laughs. To Gooper, this was the peak of logicality. Gooper scooted to the back of the Host's neck and examined his coat collar; he noticed that the Host Iplier wore a coat like a doctor's coat, except a different colour. The little monster was very interested in finding out what sensitive treasures were hidden beneath...so he slipped down.

'I-I-I doho noho-AAAAAEEEEEEEEGETOUTGETOUT!!'

The poor man was about to attempt a comeback, but he'd waited just that little bit too long. Now he was squealing and arching his back sharply as he felt the creature slide down his shirt covered back under his coat. The Host had a ticklish back, and Gooper was now a VERY elated, gurgling bundle of joy as he skated up and down the Host's back.

'NOHOHO STAHAHAP EHEHEHEHEE STAHAHAP!!'

The Host begged as he wriggled and shimmied, stamping his feet on the floor as he twisted his body about trying to reach for the tickly lump under his coat....but Gooper was always juuuust out of reach. Iplier was just observing lovingly, adoring seeing his Host's mad grin come to the surface as his nerves were played with.

'Awwww, is he getting your poor, sensitive wittle back?'

Even with Gooper shimmying up and down his spine, the Host managed the tiniest growl in response to his lover.

'IHIHI'LL GEHET YOHOU FOR THIHIHIS!'

Iplier snorted with a little laugh, letting out a musing hum before purring.

'Uh huh, maybe you should stop laughing your pretty heart out before trying to make tough-guy threats like that.'

The Host ended up wailing through his cackles and head-butting the arm of the couch in despair from all the teasing....and then he started clinging to it since for some reason, Gooper became enamoured by his shoulder blades; poor Host.

'AHAHAH YOHOHOU BAHASTAR-EEE OHOHO COHOME OOOON!!'

As the Host scrunched his shoulders, the ridges beneath his shoulder blades became more pronounced....therefore making them rather inviting for nestling into and rubbing incessantly, which was what Gooper had decided to treat Host to. The Host was in absolute tickly, and moral, turmoil. He couldn't flop onto his back for fear of hurting Gooper, so he was forced to curl up on his front on the little couch as he laughed and screeched into his own hands. This made Gooper VERY happy, because he knew that loud noises meant it was a bad tickle spot, and bad tickle spots make people super duper happy!

'Uh ohhhh, Gooper LOVES playing with baaad tickle spots....'

Gooper seemed to squeal and croon at the doctor's words, which was his way of confirming that they were true. The Host meanwhile just continued to shriek and squeal and whimper as he clawed at the couch, the rubbing tickling technique under his shoulder blades was really effective against him.

'IHIHIHIT TIHICKLES SOHOHO MUHUHUCH!!'

Iplier could have been kind and sympathetic.....could have.

'Awww, Gooper will be so happy to hear that!'

'NOHOHOHHOOOOO!!'

Iplier giggled as he watched the Host writhe, consumed by the mirth and joy that he so richly deserved. However, his body was starting to experience tremors and trembles that Gooper sensed were not entirely controlled; the Host Iplier had been tickled a lot, and now his body was getting weaker. Though Gooper was indeed very happy that he'd tickled the man very well, he knew he needed to recover from all the laughing, so he stopped. Gooper slid down his back and crawled over his side so as to rest on the man's tummy carefully; Gooper crooned with relief when he heard the man catching his breath and calming down.

'Ohoho my....ahahh....holy typewrihiters....'

The Host gasped as he lay on the couch with mouth agape, chest rising and falling as he took in large gulps of much needed air. Iplier, like the loving boyfriend he was, was covering his mouth in an attempt to repress his laughter in the wake of how utterly bedraggled the Host looked right now. He was red faced, gleaming with sweat, and had hair that rivalled the most juvenile of bird's nests.

'Yohou okay lohove?'

....the Host tried to purse his lips in a somewhat displeased fashion....but he was far too happy to even think about feeling displeased; such feelings were pretty damn far from his mind right now. The embarrassed, meek man ended up bowing his head and smiling silently, which Iplier took to mean that yes, he was more than okay. Iplier sat on the remaining space of the couch and helped his Host sit up, but he nearly jumped out of his skin when his Host let out a sudden, surprised yelp.

'EEK!'

Thankfully, it wasn't the start of another onslaught, and both men giggled when Gooper squished himself through the front of the Host's coat, between two buttons, and plopped in his lap with a giddy gurgle.

'Yohou....'

The Host giggled softly, loving how the little monster was just a wiggly ball of squeals and squelches; he was clearly rather happy with himself and the tickling that he managed to provide. The Host smirked and scratched the creature's underbelly, making him squeal adorably.

'....yohou are too puhure for this dumb world....'

The Host giggled and leant against his doctor as Gooper snuggled into his hand, and the Host soon smiled even wider when he felt Iplier's lips kissing along his jawline, and eventually venturing to the corner of his lips. The doctor chuckled softly when the Host purred at him, and soon they were kissing softly; Gooper wasn't the only thing here that was too pure for this world. The two lovebirds had to break their kiss however, when Gooper let out quite the loud squeal. They ended up snorted and giggling into each other's lips before craning their heads down at the little blob. Dr Iplier crooned.

'Whahat doho you want Mr Squealy?'

Iplier watched, and the Host perceived, Gooper suddenly wriggling and bouncing and squealing with happy excitement....and they both blushed deeply. Gooper had gotten so excited because he'd seen their affection. Gooper was still learning about how people gave each other affection, but he'd learned from Schneeple that people who REALLY loved each other touched faces, and this was the first time he'd ever actually seen it lengthily and it was so cute and he was just so happy for them! Gooper had seen them doing at the beginning and it all just now was clicking into place....they had SUPER love for each other! Gooper soon calmed down though since he didn't want to interrupt the happy face touching, and soon the two men resumed their smooching, and Gooper got to fall asleep in the wake of true love in full bloom.

WOOOO HOPE YOU LIKED THIS NEXT PART LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOOOOP LUV YOUS XX

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theangriestpea · 6 years ago

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Mercy Killing

TW/CW: sexual assault mention, violence, trauma, victim blaming

A/N: You'll see victim blaming from both SP and Lav. Remember they are both teenagers that have never been in the situation before. Have likely never been taught how to handle this kind of situation either. While they both seem to think it is Lav's fault for what happened, I want to reiterate that that is not what I think. It is not her fault. It is never the victim's fault, I don't care what the circumstances are.

Chapter Two: Ugliness

Lavender hurt. She hurt a lot. So much that Fangs practically carried her to her trailer once she was discharged. Lorraine had to help her get dressed and that was a slow process. She knew she’d need help putting clothes on, taking clothes off, hell even taking a bath. Luckily she figured she could ask Toni on the really rough days and just take some of the Oxy the doctor had prescribed her on days she was alone. FP let her know that he called her job to let them know that she’d been in an accident and the extent of her injuries. She had a doctor’s excuse as well for two weeks. The doctor even mentioned that if she didn’t feel healed up enough after that then he’d write her another one. That was just when her follow up appointment was.

“Alright Lavie, we have to go up the stairs.” Fangs said, easing her out of his truck. It was awkward as hell sitting between him and Sweet Pea, luckily she was small enough to fit between both broad shouldered boys. Lav groaned, the prospect sounding horrible. “Do I have to?” Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. “Would you rather I throw you over my shoulder?” Fangs asked in a fake sweet voice. “I have three broken ribs!” Lav bit back, “You’ll crack them even more!” Fangs laughed, “Which is why you need to go up there yourself. It’s four steps.” She looked up at the daunting set of stairs. “You’ll stay by my side…?” She heard Sweet Pea snort behind them. Lav looked over her shoulder to glare daggers at him. She looked more like an angry raccoon than a threat with her black eyes and swollen nose.

“Yes, I’ll be right here. I’ll even unlock the door for you.” Fangs said sweetly, she wondered briefly why he wasn’t named Sweet Pea instead. Sweet Pea was agitated. He tried to understand that she was in a lot of pain but he also didn’t get why she didn’t just work through it like any other Serpent would. He felt like she was fully taking advantage of Fangs’ kindness and that didn’t sit well with him. She had done nothing but whine since they got out of the hospital. Of course he always had a feeling she was an entitled princess, now he just had evidence of it. He clenched and unclenched his fists to keep from snapping at her.

Pea felt sorry for what had happened to her, he really did, but this was just too much. He dreaded the thought of being alone with her which he knew was going to happen eventually. They had agreed on shifts throughout the night although Fangs seemed reluctant to agree to it. Sweet Pea just knew that he had to help his mom take care of his little sister on the nights that she worked late. Tonight was going to be one of those nights. Lavender and Fangs made it up the stairs without much trouble. She had to stop to breathe through the ache of her bruised and cut thighs. The tension on the stitches she had on a few of the gashes there seemed to increase tenfold whenever she put weight on her legs. Worst of all she knew she couldn’t take anything for pain for another four hours. Fangs managed to get her inside and Sweet Pea reluctantly followed after them into the single wide. He’d never actually been inside before. The layout was similar to his own, which wasn’t surprising. There were only so many ways to arrange a small trailer. He had seen the house she grew up in on the Northside. It was two-story, spacious. It was made a brick. Sweets didn’t know much but he knew that her mother had left, selling the house and taking the money to live elsewhere. Lav was forced to live with her father here on the Southside. This had been his trailer before he passed. Rhodes had been one hell of a Serpent. He taught Sweet Pea everything he knew about switchblades. Made him wonder why Lav didn’t have one on her when the Ghoulies attacked her. Come to think of it, he had never actually seen her carry one.

Fangs got her to the worn pleather couch where Lavender heaved a somewhat over-dramatic sigh. Her eyes lost focus as she stared at the wall with a frown on her face. Both boys glanced at one another, sharing a confused look before Fangs waved a hand in front of her face. “Lavie, come back to the Earth, alien princess.” Her gaze focused in on his moving hand. A pout formed on her lips as she looked at him. “Is Toni working tonight?” “Yea, why?” Fangs asked, wondering why his answer made her look so crestfallen. “No reason.” She said, though in truth she had wanted help in taking a bath. She felt so fucking dirty, like she’d never get clean again. The memory of the sensation of Ghoulie hands roaming over her body made her want to heave. Lav had hoped that she’d be able to have some help in getting some of the dried blood off of her. She needed fresh bandages put on and there were places she did not want Fangs or Sweet Pea – God, especially Sweet Pea – to see. He felt his eyes boring into her like two well-aimed lasers. Cutting away at her already ripped skin. “Take a fucking picture, Sweet Pea.” She finally hissed out. Sweet Pea scoffed lightly as he looked away from her, “why? I know what a wounded raccoon looks like.” He said coldly, earning an elbow in the ribs from Fangs who looked less than pleased. Lavender steeled her features to keep her hurt from showing. She knew she looked ugly, hell she felt even uglier. The last thing she needed was for him to tell her that. The amount of physical pain was considerable, but it didn’t match the fractioning pieces of her heart that only splintered more at his comment. Not that she even cared what he thought. Fuck him, he was just an asshole. “How about Sweet Pea goes and picks us up Pop’s for dinner?” Fangs offered. Lavender hadn’t felt like eating. Since she hadn’t been able to brush her teeth, she could still taste vomit in the back of her throat. Despite knowing food would help with her medication, she didn’t want to eat. Didn’t want to even think about food. “No thanks, Fogarty. I’m not hungry.” Fangs’ face fell slightly. He had hoped a milkshake would cheer her up a little, make her feel better. “You need to go anyway, Fangs.” Sweet Pea reminded him, “Your mom is working tonight.” “Oh shit.” Fangs muttered, “I totally forgot.” The girl’s eyes narrowed at her friend, “you’re not staying?” She was already feeling nauseous from the thought of being alone with Sweet Pea. First Toni couldn’t come help her and now Fangs? She was dreading just being alive at this point.

Fangs gave her a sympathetic look, “I have to watch Gingersnap for my mom. Don’t worry, Sweets will take care of you. That really nice nurse wrote down everything we need to do to make sure you feel better.” He dug through the bag they had gotten from the hospital to show her neatly handwritten notes. “When to take your meds, when to change your bandages. Everything!” He grinned at her, praying that it would be contagious. It wasn’t. “I’m not excited about this either, princess.” Sweet Pea drawled, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. He still wasn’t looking at her. She wondered for a moment why he hated her so much. What she had ever done to him to deserve the treatment she was getting. Whatever. She’d do this without him. Fangs checked the time on his phone and cursed. “I’ve got to go. I’ll text you to make sure you’re still alive, okay? And as soon as my mom gets home I’ll come right back. Keep the door locked and listen to Sweet Pea, okay?” “Why do I have to listen to him? He’s a jerk.” Lavender grumbled, holding her ribs as she stood up. Her legs shook under here and both boys were sure she was going to fall right back down. She looked like a fawn just after birth, ready to collapse at any moment. After a moment she steadied herself and did her best to stand up straight, stretching to full height as if that would do anything to help her case. She was still shorter than both Fangs and Sweet Pea, but hell everyone was shorter than Sweet Pea. Even Lucifer himself, Lavender mused silently. Fangs like out a tired sigh. He had hardly slept at all last night and it showed. Lav only slept thanks to the sedatives they pumped her full of. She was wishing she had some more just to help cope. “Because you can barely stand on your own.” Lavender let out an offended huff. Her jaw clenched as she willed herself to brush past both of them and to her room. “Screw you!” She spat before walking into the room and slamming the door. Once by herself tears pricked her eyes and she had to put a hand over her mouth to keep the sob from coming out. She had always been independent. Even as a little girl. She would be damned if she started depending on anyone now. Her back was against the door as she steadied her breathing to keep from crying. A few rogue tears went down her face as she made her way to her bed. Slowly she eased herself down to her soft mattress, laying down to bury her face into her pillow and finally cry.

*~~~~~~~~~~~*

Hours later the alarm on Sweet Pea’s phone went off. He hadn’t heard a single sound from Lav’s bedroom, and he wondered if she was even still awake or if she had actually gotten hungry. He was but the only thing he found in her kitchen cabinets were spaghetti noodles and Little Debbie Swiss rolls. How did she not have any fucking food? He grabbed the gauze and medical tape that FP had bought as well as the antibiotic ointment from the pharmacy. This was going to be like pulling teeth and Pea knew it. Still, it had to get done. The giant went to her door and knocked on it three times, waiting a beat before opening the door. He flipped on the light switch by the door, a lucky guess on his part, and looked over at her. She was awake, staring into space again with that far out look in her eyes. They flickered to him for a moment and he could tell she’d been crying. It made him feel awkward. He never knew what to do when girls cried. He was shit at comforting them, unlike Fangs who always seemed to know what to do or say. Perks of having a little sister, he guessed. Sweet Pea walked over to her. The floor creaked under his weight and her eyes snapped to him suddenly hyper focused. “What are you doing?” She asked, her voice low but not hostile. The fight had been beaten out of her and the pathetic look she was giving him sent a pang of guilt through his chest. It only lasted a moment before disappearing. “It’s time to redress your cuts.” He said, “And time to take your medicine.” He set down a bottle of water on the bedside table next to her face. Lav struggled to lift herself up into a sitting position. A groan of pain left her pink lips as the movement caused strain on her worn muscles. Everything ached, especially her ribs. Lying so incredibly still hadn’t been so bad, though breathing did cause a dull throbbing in her torso. Her expanding lungs seem to press against the fractured bones painfully which made her resort to shallow breathing. Still she wanted to wash herself but that was out of the question. There was no way in hell she was getting naked in front of Sweet Pea and having him help ease her into the bath tub. Not that she even thought he’d agree to that. It occurred to her that she had to have been in a state of undress when Fangs and Pea found her last night. The thought sending a sickening feeling through her. If only she hadn’t looked so weak in front of them. How was she ever going to prove her strength now? It shouldn’t have bothered her. She was in her underwear in front of all of the Serpents the night she did her initiation dance. It was different when it was voluntary. Sweets was boring holes into her yet again, aggravating her. “I’m not going to do it with you in here…” She mumbled to him, her voice hardening again. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I’ve already seen all there is to see.” Sweet Pea said, not really trusting her to be able to handle herself. A horrified look past over Lav’s face at his words. Then she chided herself for even thinking he’d look at her like that. “You can barely sit up, how are you going to do this by yourself?” Her head turned away from him as she started to slowly undo the buttons on the grey and green flannel she was wearing. She could feel his eyes on her as she slipped her shirt off and she quickly hugged herself with her arms, feeling way too exposed. “Your pants.” He reminded her when she didn’t move from her position. Lav shot him an annoyed, defiant look which honestly amused Sweet Pea more than anything. Lav still didn’t move, “I’m not taking off my pants, you can forget it.” Sweets took an intimidating step towards her, suddenly making her feel very small. “The worst cuts are on your thighs.” He said, having known because he had seen them. He also overheard the nurse telling FP that she had the most stitches there. She was lucky they didn’t hit an artery. She almost crumbled before him in humiliation, “I can’t…I need help.” She muttered. He had barely heard her. He rolled his eyes and got down on his knees in front of her, setting the bag with the medical supplies down. His hands moved to the waistband of her black sweatpants and Lav felt tears come to her eyes. She tried to swallow them back, tried to remind herself that this was Sweet Pea. He was a total dick but he wasn’t going to hurt her. Not on purpose. “W-wait.” She stammered as his fingers brushed against the bare flesh of her hips. He looked up at her with what she could have sworn was tenderness in his eyes. It was gone for a moment before dissolving into two brown pools devoid of emotion. Sweet Pea waited until she was ready. He knew this had to be hard for her and FP had warned both him and Fangs not to push her too hard. He wanted to get this done and over with but at the same time…there was a small part of him that didn’t want to send her over the edge so soon after the attack. Lavender took a few shallow breaths. She leaned back on her good hand and lifted up her hips for him. “Okay.” She said softly and he slowly slid the fabric down to just below her knees. Her entire body was shaking and Pea thought that maybe he should say something to try and calm her down. Except, he didn’t know at all what to say. He slowly took off the bandages around her thighs, unwrapping the gauze and setting it to the side of him. He dug through the bag to grab the antibiotic ointment for her. Once it was open, he broke the seal and put some on his large index finger. Lavie braced herself for pain, figuring Sweets was going to be as rough as he usually is in how he does everything. To her surprise he used every ounce of restraint in him to softly glide the ointment over the stitched up gashes along her thighs. It would have been something close to erotic if it had been anyone other than this giant jerk. She studied his face, his lips were pressed together into a hard line and his eyes were focused on the task before him. He couldn’t help but look over the finger-shaped purple bruises that marred her pale skin. His digits lingered on her for only a second before he pulled away from his work. Lav let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. His eyes finally glanced up to meet hers. There was anger in them. Burning like simmering coals in a dying fire. She wondered what she had done to piss him off so suddenly when just a moment ago there was nothing but apathy in his gaze. “You’re a dumbass.” Sweet Pea said, fury still sizzling in the back of his mind. His voice was harsher than he had intended, but he needed her to know. But Lavender didn’t need the blame placed on her by someone else right now, she had been doing that enough herself. A tear escaped her blue-green eye and stumbled down her cheek. “I know.” She choked out, hating to say out loud that this was her fault. She put her own self in this situation. Sweet Pea didn’t have a response to that. His eyes flickered to the lip that she was biting hard to keep from giving in to her emotions. He picked up a gauze pad and placed it along her biggest cut. He taped in into place before moving to some of the small ones. He only looked back up at her when he was finished. Lavender leaned back once more, lifting her hips again and he carefully pulled her pants back up for her like he had done the night before. He ignored her sigh of relief when they were secured in place. With her legs wrapped, he moved to her stomach. Repeating the process of taking off the old bandages, putting the medication on them, and rewrapping them all with a softness that she had never seen from him before. At least, not towards her. Maybe towards Toni or Fangs but definitely not towards her. Luckily there were no actual cuts on her ribcage itself so he didn’t need to undo the thick cloth bandages that were wrapped around them. He took the bandage off the cut on her left breast. Luckily he could access it without her having to take her bra off. That would have been a hard no for her. She winced when the adhesive of the tape pulled on her sensitive skin, and she could have sworn that she heard something akin to an apology leave his mouth. She couldn’t be sure, his voice had been so muted. Once again he found his fingers tracing over the mixture of black, purple, and pink bruising across her skin. It looked almost like a galaxy etched into her soft flesh. Lav stared hard at the frown on his face. She mistook it for disgust. Of course she looked disgusting. Her skin wasn’t the right color, it was swollen, sensitive, and cut to ribbons in some places. Pea made quick work of the bandages on her breast. Her right one had been untouched. He found it odd that the Ghoulies didn’t try to do something with her tattoo which he could mostly see on the exposed part of her chest. The bottom tip was covered by the pink fabric of her bra. He realized now why she wanted Toni. She didn’t want him to be touching her like this and it was easy to guess why. He was oblivious sometimes but he wasn’t a total idiot. Lavender pulled her shirt back up onto her shoulders and started to button it back up again. She was trying to ignore his presence and was doing a fairly good job until he felt his hand cup the wounded side of her face. He gingerly peeled back the medical tape that secured the gauze pad in place. She watched him with another baited breath. Four cuts disfigured what he begrudgingly thought was a beautiful face. Her freckles hidden by the vast collection of bruises.

With a touch even lighter than before, he dressed the cuts on her face before applying another pad and taping it into place. Once done he slammed down the pill bottles onto her bedside table from inside the bag. “Take these.” He practically growled out before storming out. He was so volatile. Tender in one moment and rough in the next. It threw her for a loop as she played with the medicine bottles. She managed to open them with much difficulty since one wrist was in a cast. Once she got the lids off she took the prescribed dose and swallowed it down with a splash of water. Her stomach growled in protest but she ignored it. All she wanted to do was sleep and forget all about the volcanic serpent in her living room.

#sweet pea #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea fanfic #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea fluff #riverdale fanfiction #mercykilling #fanfic #purpuraserpenta

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bitletsanddrabbles · 6 years ago

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Downton Court Hotel pt. 8

And now the part that I’ve we’ve all been waiting for!

No, seriously, I’ve had this drafted for over a month, maybe two.

This piece is dedicated to every art student who’s ever had to BS their way through a presentation on the colour field piece they did for the final in their painting class’s abstract section. Cheers!

Note: When I do get all of today’s spam up on Ao3, I will probably just post the link for pt. 6. Because spam.

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Characters: Thomas Barrow, Jimmy Kent, Peter Pelham

Relationship: Baxter/Molesley, canon pairings

Warnings: Resurrecting more characters! Play “spot the Maggie Smith” reference! Peter is a fluffy marshmallow!

https://bitletsanddrabbles.tumblr.com/post/184471088834/downton-court-hotel-pt-7

Thomas wasn't certain who it was who'd said "I may not know much about art, but I know what I like." It was probably George Bernard Shaw or Oscar Wild or someone like that. Maybe Winston Churchill. All he could really say, standing in the hotel's dining room-cum-art gallery, was that he truly appreciated the sentiment. Mr. Carson had been rattling on at length about the virtues of the Marquess of Hexham's work to anyone within ear shot for a week solid, his words laden with solemn respect. If the listening party was Mr. Molelsey, only three days back from his honeymoon, one was certain to hear lively, pedantic replies on depth of colour and experimental art forms. Admittedly, it made a bit of a break from hearing about Paris, but there was still only so much of Mr. Molesley being pedantic one could take.

(Mrs. Molesley was better. Ask her how things went and she would shyly tell you about how Mr. Molesley had surprised her with tickets to the opera and she hadn't understood a word of it. Then she'd change the subject to the linens or some such.)

As far as Thomas was concerned, it looked like a paint store had thrown up on the room. With the exception of one or two pieces in black and white, each canvas was a riot of colour, some more harmonious than others. None of them contained what he would consider a 'picture' or even the semblance of one. Even definite 'shapes' were frequently lacking. There were, he thought, five year olds in the country who could do just as well. Then again, he supposed he'd seen calendars of five year old art here and there, along side art by cats and dogs, so someone with the money and title to attract attention shouldn't have too much trouble getting noticed.

He walked over to stand behind Jimmy who was finishing hanging a plaque next to one canvas (the staff had not been trusted to hang the art, only the descriptions) and asked. "So do you have any idea what any of this is supposed to be then?"

"I haven't been reading these things," was the reply. "Just hanging them."

Thomas cocked an eyebrow at the bellboy's disgruntled tone, but didn't reprimand him. It was, after all, rather late and well past when Jimmy would normally be off having a drink and chatting up some girl or other. There was, however, a healthy dose of playful sarcasm in his voice as he replied, "Well then, what does that one say?"

Jimmy stepped back, looked at him, then at the picture. As with many of the others, there was no discernible picture, as such, just huge swatches of colour blending into each other. Leaning in to better see the rather small print, Jimmy read. "An exploration of the effect of colour and harmony as a reflection of the human psyche and a path to tranquility."

Thomas blinked, not quite certain to believe he'd heard properly. He shook his head with a lopsided grin and asked, "Cor, what do you think all that means in English?"

An amused and unfamiliar voice answered him. "It means I painted pretty colours on the canvas while listening to smooth jazz, and it was very relaxing."

Turning abruptly, Thomas found himself facing a man just a bit shorter than himself, although about the same age. He had brown hair that needed a trim, blue eyes, an open face, and was wearing what struck Thomas as a very soft, comfortable looking jumper. There was just enough family resemblance with Lady Edith's fiance that, combined with the commentary, there was no doubt that this was Peter Pelham, sixth Marquess of Hexham.

"Why didn't you just say that, then?" Jimmy asked.

It earned him a laugh. "My dear boy, art critics are going to read that! You can't just give an art critic plain language, the poor things would shrivel up and die!"

Thomas and Jimmy both looked back and forth between the man and the painting, each exuding an air of utter confusion. Jimmy was the first to get up the guts to say something. "So, you're saying that all of the high toned language you read about with art is all pointless gibberish to make things sound posh?"

"Not all of it," Lord Hexham replied, walking over to stand next to them, his eyes on the painting. "There are definitely artists in all fields who paint to send messages and make statements on the world. Something that claims to be a commentary on the treatment of the working class by the Conservative Party, for instance, or the roll of women in Socialist society is likely exactly as billed. Similarly the photorealists who wind up in galleries rather than sketching people's portraits in malls have every right to talk about the years and difficulty of perfecting their craft and attention to detail. But process artists have a bit more difficulty getting taken seriously.

“Take my Study in the Style of Jackson Pollock, for example." He turned and gestured to another painting which looked very much to Thomas as if he'd simply thrown random colours of paint at a canvas. "As far as technique is concerned, all I did was splash paint at the canvas and see where it hit. Not much to talk about, really. A child could do it. But that type of abstract isn't really about technique so much as it is a study in chaos theory. What sorts of patterns will emerge? What sorts of emotions can you evoke? If you cover a ball in paint and throw it at the center of the canvas, will it hit there or someplace you hadn't intended and what sort of effect will that have?" He paused, then added with another of those wryly amused smiles, "Not to mention if you've just had a bad day it can be very cathartic."

Thomas looked around him with a bit more respect than he had earlier. "So basically, these were all experiments that came out the way you wanted them to?"

"More or less. I normally don't have any sort of end goal in mind for what I want things to look like, but I stop when I get something I like." Turning, the aristocrat held out his hand. "But we've not been properly introduced. I am Peter Pelham, Marquess of Hexham. And you are?"

"Thomas Barrow, night manager."

"A pleasure," Peter smiled at him, shook his hand, then turned his attention to Jimmy.

"James Kent," Jimmy replied in the formal manner Mr. Carson insisted on. "Bell boy."

"Does everything meet with your approval, Your Lordship?" Thomas asked in the same, prim tone, stepping into his professional role.

"Oof, please, call me Peter when I'm not 'on duty'," Peter winced, looking around the room. "One does get tired of being 'sired' and 'Your Lordshipped' on every little occasion. Save the formality for when the show opens and the press is here." He concluded his turn of the room, then walked over to one painting that was hanging perfectly straight on the wall and pulled it off center so it hung slightly skee-jawed. "I prefer the way that one looks at a bit of an angle," he explained. "I expect people will forever be trying to straighten it, so if you could convince them not to I would appreciate it. Beyond that," he looked around again and nodded, "It's very nice. I approve." He gave them a smile from his seemingly endless supply. "Does this mean you can take a break now?"

"Well, it means James can clock off," Thomas allowed. Mr. Carson probably wouldn't have approved, but there was nothing left to be done here and the other man needed to sleep sometime. "I need to get back to my office. It's normally quiet this time of night, though, unless someone decides they want a midnight snack."

"Will you be here for the actual event?" The question was directed at both of them, but Thomas thought Peter looked a touch more in his direction. "I'd told Edith there needn't be a lot of fuss, but she made it sound like there would be anyway."

"If you have a title, Mr. Carson will make a fuss," Thomas assured him. "It will be all hands on deck, although you'll see James more than you will me. I'll stop past, but I'll be busy running things elsewhere."

Peter nodded. "In which case, I will see you two tomorrow. I hope you have a good night." Turning he walked to the door and picked up a large, rectangular package that Thomas immediately recognized as a painting.

His heart rate jumped. "Ah, Your Lor – er – Peter?" he called, causing the other man to pause and turn. He pointed to the package. "We've not forgotten one, have we?"

It took a moment for understanding to register with the other man, then he laughed. "Oh, no! This is just something Edith asked me to do as a present for her grandmother. It's considerably different than the works here." He gestured to the rest of the room "Would you like to see?"

The offer caught Thomas a bit off guard and he hesitated. Carson would probably not approve of their fraternizing with their betters, but as he couldn't imagine the Dowager Countess Grantham appreciating the Marquess's work, from what he'd seen of it, it was tempting to say yes. He glanced at Jimmy, who was obviously thinking something similar, and then yielded to temptation. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all," Peter assured, setting the canvas down and carefully working at the tape with his fingers. "I wouldn't want you both to go through life thinking my entire skill set was throwing buckets of paint around. Here, could one of you hold this up for me while I get the tape at the bottom?"

Jimmy stepped forward and between the two of them they worked the brown wrapping paper off the work. The painting, as promised, was nothing like the surrounding experimental abstracts. This canvas had a very definite, if stylized, image and reminded Thomas of art you might see on a post card. In the center stood a young woman with red hair who looked familiar although he couldn't quite place her. She was dressed in a plain white dress, like something out of a Greek play, and a gold band wrapped around her head. A wave was breaking behind her and a series of moons in different phases went along the top.

Jimmy whistled. "I may not know art, but I know what I like," he said, eying the painting with obvious appreciation. Thomas bit back the playful urge to ask if he meant the painting or the woman.

"Thank you. Now," Peter grinned, watching them out of the tops of his eyes. "Do you recognize who it is?"

The easy answer was 'no', but Thomas hated admitting when he was wrong. He particularly hated it when someone more educated and titled than he was rubbing his face in it so they could look superior, so, despite the fact that Peter seemed a lot nicer than most of the aristocrats he knew – right up there with Sybil, really – he had a crack at it. "She reminds me of that picture of the naked woman on the sea shell. Goddess of Love, wasn't it?"

"Ah, the Birth of Venus, yes," Peter nodded, clearly pleased with the answer. "Not a direct influence on this work, but I can see where you'd draw the comparison. She's actually Thetis, a relatively minor sea goddess. I wouldn't expect anyone who hasn't done some heavy study of mythology to recognize her. But I was meaning more the woman herself, the model. Edith says you've all met her." He paused and, receiving absolutely baffled expressions for his pains, explained, "It's Lady Violet Crawley, in her younger days. I believe most of my references were from her forties, if you could believe it."

Thomas had a bit of trouble believing it, but there again the image was stylized. That might have made her look a bit younger, not to mention the Crawleys, from what he'd seen, were graceful agers.

Jimmy was caught up on a different detail. "The Dowager Countess was a red-head?"

Peter nodded, "Indeed! She wore it well, don't you think?" He started packaging up the painting again, pulling the paper over it and pressing down on the tape. This time both Thomas and Jimmy went to help him. "Edith wanted a painting of her Grandmother as a younger woman, done in the style of the Art Nouveau movement of the 1920s. Alphonse Mucha is the best known and most often mimicked artist of the movement, so I thought of mimicking someone less overdone, but then again from what I know of the Dowager, she's the sort to appreciate the iconic."

"You've described her quite well," Thomas agreed. He did not add that he found it second to 'bloody old bat'. "And it's an impressive painting."

"Aren't artists supposed to find their own style, though?" Jimmy asked. "Be original, do their own thing, all of that?"

"To an extent, but really, people have been painting for millennia. There's not really anything 'new' left and unless you live in a bubble someone, someplace is going to influence your way of doing things." Peter pressed down the last of the tape, then stood, picking the painting up again. "Not to mention in order to learn a technique, you have to study the technique and the fastest way to impress upon people that you've got it down is to mimic someone who already did it. Art critics love this – you listen tomorrow, particularly when they get to the Pollock inspired piece." He nodded to the canvas he threw paint at. "They will dither on forever about capturing the intent and tone of the original artist."

"Well, looks like I certainly have something to look forward to." Jimmy gave a forced smile that threw his enthusiasm into question.

"It's entertaining if you look at it as sort of a social comedy," Peter assured him, blue eyes twinkling. He definitely had the sort of eyes that twinkled. "Mocking the pomp and circumstance and all of that. But here, I am keeping you from a no doubt well deserved rest and Mr. Barrow from his office. I will bid you both a good night and let you get on with it." He smiled and nodded, accepted their respectful bows, then turned and left.

Once it was quite certain he was out of ear shot, Jimmy turned and looked around the room, muttering under his breath. "Well he's an odd duck, but I'll tell you, suddenly tomorrow looks a lot less boring."

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #modern au #art commentary #art critique #thomas barrow #james kent #peter pelham #resurrecting characters

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welldamnsatoru · 7 years ago

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Chapter 6: How could I have done this to my soulmate? // Shawn Mendes

Prologue: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/165826891058/6-minutes-left-prologue-shawn-mendes

Chapter 1: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/165861136790/chapter-1-youre-going-to-wish-wed-never-been

Chapter 2: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166035402061/chapter-2-why-did-you-come-here-shawn-mendes

Chapter 3: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166104883601/chapter-3-ill-take-my-chances-shawn-mendes

Chapter 4: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166172386006/chapter-4-i-want-you-to-want-me-because-im-me

Chapter 5: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166248497496/chapter-5-were-a-perfect-match-shawn-mendes

Author’s note: HERES THE LONG AWAITED CHAPTER 6! There wont be an update for a while as it was quite a long chapter. Shawn’s background is explained a lot here and I hope you guys like it :)

Recap: “Got it.” He rolls his eyes, allowing me to push his towards the door.

I pause, watching his features turn into a small smile as I reach to close the door, I meet his gaze one last time.

“I’ll show you Shawn. We’re a perfect match.”

My soulmate was good at many things. One of them was looking ruggedly handsome in an all-black suit. The other was sneaking into my room when I least expect it.

There he was, 5 minutes to 10:00 am, just like I told him, head to toe in the finest suit he owned.

“You clean up nicely.” I smile warmly at him and he glares at me, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I look like an arrogant ass.” He mumbles, taking a seat on the edge of my bed as I grab some earrings off my dresser.

“Aren’t you always?” I tease, allowing him to complain.

“Very funny.” He scorns me, tugging at his collar again.

“I think you’re really going to enjoy what we’re doing today.” I grin at him and he blanches, a thin sheen of sweat might even be visible on his forehead if you look close enough. “Did you bring your car?”

He gives me a strange look. “Yeah I parked around the back.”

“Lets go then.” I grab my purse off my bed and open my patio door, waiting for him to lead me to his car- a black chevrolet Camaro. It was one of the oldest model’s I’d ever seen but looked surprisingly well kept.

“Bet you’re not used to roughing it out in an old piece of metal like this?” Shawn humour’s, unlocking the car.

“Actually my Grandpa likes to collect old cars, he has around maybe 5 of these but they’re all in different colours.” I try not to laugh too loud at the shocked and mildly annoyed look upon Shawn’s face. I buckle in and Shawn turns on the ignition, pulling onto the road.

“So where are we going?” He breaks the silence.

“Park out front the Dee Gardens and then we’re on foot from there.”

“You made me wear a suit to go to the park?” he asks, looking at me like I had asked him to do the most ridiculous thing.

“Maybe.” I giggle, winding the window down to allow the cool spring breeze into the car. The sun was beating down through the windows and I already knew it was going to be a good day. Perfect for a wedding.

“Okay, there, park there.” The Dee Gardens were a short 5 minute drive from our house and as soon as I saw a free parking space, we took it.

The gravel crunches under my heels as I get out, shutting the door and walking over to the grass. Excitement bubbles in my stomach and I feel a shoulder brush mine, turning to see Shawn standing right beside me.

“Lets go.” I grab his hand, entwining my fingers with his.

“Is this really necessary?” He holds our joined hands up as he falls into step with me and I raise an eyebrow.

“4 weeks, remember?”

He sighs, the sound drawing my attention to the faint hum of voices. We round the corner and ahead is a small clearing, surrounded by tall red woods. There’s maybe 40 chairs either side, an aisle running through the middle. At the end there’s a stand with a small archway made of flowers that have been threaded through the wire. Fairy lights were strung around the trunk of the trees, light green ribbon bows stuck on the back of nearly every chair. It looked beautiful.

I eye the nervous groom standing under the arch, talking to his groomsmen. He looked like he was going to be sick.

“We’re late.” I don’t give Shawn a chance to speak as I rush to our seats, two spares at the back as we weren’t on time. We sit down and I notice Shawn’s gaping expression, his eyes wide.

“You took me to a fucking wedding?” He hisses in my ear, and I elbow him in the stomach to stop his complaining.

“Shut up, Becky is about to walk down the aisle.” I snap back, rising with the rest of the family. I look down to see Shawn still sitting there and I grab his collar, tugging him up so he’s standing next to me.

A flower girl begins her descent down the aisle and I try to ignore seeing Shawn pinching the bridge of his nose out of the corner of my eye. Bridesmaids wearing beautiful jade dresses come next, their hair up in elaborate braided buns.

Then came the bride. Becky looked stunning, her white dress was studded with tiny diamonds and when they caught the light, they shined. The silk hugged her figure and fell away into a train.

“You sneaky little thing.” I hear Shawn whisper in my ear, we were lucky to be at the back where no one could hear us and anyone who could was more preoccupied with the bride.

“Excuse you?” I don’t tear my eyes away from my cousin, her dress was causing me serious envy.

“You take me to a wedding, get me all loved up and then you’re going to strike. You’ve probably arranged our wedding, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I smile innocently at him and he huffs, falling silent as the ceremony begins.

I didn’t stop smiling.

As soon as the ceremony had finished, Shawn dragged me away before anyone had noticed we were there. In silence, we trek back to his car.

“You know we have to go to the reception right?”

“You do. I don’t.” He laughs at my disgruntled expression. The car comes into sight and we head towards it.

“But what if I get approached?” I ask him, giving him my daintiest smile.

“Approached? By who, your Grandpa?” Shawn snorts and unlocks the car.

“No.” I drag the sound out. “By an eligible bachelor who seeks my hand in marriage.”

I feel shocked at the sound of Shawn laughing, his head tilted back and eyes crinkled.

“Sorry princess but the government would never let you get married while your soulmate is living and breathing just across town from you.” The engine rumbles, and Shawn changes the gear into reverse.

“Then why don’t you come along just to make sure that it doesn’t happen.” I rest my hand on his forearm softly. He looks over at me quickly before sighing.

“You’re going to black mail me if I don’t say yes aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Three seconds of silence. He gives in.

“Where am I driving to?”

The reception was located in a pretty fancy restaurant and had a similar decorative touch to the wedding. There were already so many people here and I feel Shawn’s front press into my back so he doesn’t loose me in the crowded room. Leading the way I take him to our seats. My Mother looks up at the sound of chairs scraping against the wood flooring. Her mouth falls open.

“Who’s this Sweetie?” She prod’s, smiling at Shawn whose head whips to face me, disbelief clouding his eyes. We stay standing.

“Mum this is Shawn, Shawn this is… my Mother.” I watch as Shawn’s eyebrows raise, biting his lip to stop himself from saying something offensive to me in front of my mother.

“Nice to meet you Mam.” Shawn says formally, offering his hand for my Mother to shake.

“Likewise.” She shakes it, turning to face me.

“Shawn is my boyfriend.” I quickly tell her, yet my Mum’s face forms an expression of curiosity.

“I thought you were only going to date your soulmate Y/n.” Shawn audibly gulps. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me into his side.

“We both have many years on our timer’s. We like each other so we thought why not get to know each other.” He tells my Mother, a frown etched onto his face. A relationship during the youthful years with someone who wasn’t your soulmate wasn’t illegal, although it was frowned upon by many people.

“Oh.” My Mother gasps while my mouth opens and closes, no words forming.

“You just lied to my Mother.” I whisper in his ear, Mum still staring at us.

“Would you rather me tell her we’re soulmates?” He rebuts, pulling out my seat and letting me sit down.

“She could easily check my arm and see my timer has gone.” My eyes flick to my sleeve covered arm, right where my timer would have been if it was still ticking.

“Then you will just have to cross that bridge when you come to it.” He frowns at me, resting a hand on my knee under the table. “Now I believe we are at a wedding and you wanted us to act like soulmates, care to dance?”

Somehow, from the time we got here and when we sat down, music had begun to play, a soft beat filling the room.

“I can’t believe you told her.” I mumble to him as he pulls me to the centre of the room where other dancing couples were located.

“I’m just trying to be what you expect me to be. You only have four weeks of this treatment so enjoy it while it lasts.” Shawn snaps and my face flushes in anger.

“I don’t expect you to be an ass Shawn, I don’t know what you want from this ‘trial’.” He rests a hand on my waist and the other holds my left hand.

“Most soulmates act irrationally, right? So that’s what I’m trying to do.” There’s a hint of sarcasm and I ignore it.

“When I asked you to give me a chance I didn’t mean change your entire personality.” I mutter, letting him sway us to the beat.

“I don’t do relationships Y/n, I’m sorry that I said the wrong thing to your Mum. Next time I just won’t say anything” He growls at me and I fall silent.

The music was classical; the instruments filling the dining hall, giving the atmosphere an old fashion feel.

“If you weren’t a member of the libertas would you still have treated me the same?” I ask him softly, meeting his hazel eyes.

“Even if I wasn’t I still have the same belief in soulmates Y/n.” He tells me, his eyes scanning my face.

“If soulmate’s didn’t exist would you want me?” I hold my breath, the question out in the open air.

“If you weren’t my soulmate I think I would have actually wanted to be with you- out of my own choice.” He lets my arm falls and I can’t speak, can’t move. I’m lost in the depth of his eyes. Even after everything he has said to me I want to pull him closer to me, into my embrace.

“Why tell me that? Why not just be with me because you like me?” He lets me rest a hand on his chest, right over his heart and the steady thump has me feeling giddy.

“All my life I’ve told myself that I’m not going to let the soulmate program dictate my life like it did for my Mum.” He whispers softly and we’re dancing again, his left hand glued to my right and his other hand on my waist. We’re chest to chest as we sway to the soft beat from the band.

“What happened with your Mum, Shawn?” I ask boldly, knowing he would either answer me or retreat away from me.

He takes a deep breath. “She was abused… by her soulmate, my Dad.” I let him talk, feeling a weight settle in my stomach. No one ever deserves to be treated the way I can only imagine Shawn’s Mum would have been treated.

“The one person the Government told her that was supposed to treasure her and take care of her was the one that haunted her nightmares and caused black and blue bruises to appear on her skin.” Shawn looks angry now, his hand tightening its grip on my own hand.

“What did she do?” My face is so close to his that I can see the faint flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.

“She put in a request form to the Government to leave her soulmate, so she could find someone else.” In society, when a person’s match dies, we can request to form a relationship with another single match.

“But because my Dad was still alive they forced her to stay with him.” He snarls, his frustration rolling off him. “She couldn’t find happiness with another person because they told her that she could only be happy with him. They partnered my Mother with a monster.”

He twirls me, my dress fanning out and I crash back into his chest ungracefully. Shawn doesn’t seem to care.

“I joined the libertas when my mother couldn’t take the violence any more and committed suicide.” He’s calm again. A sadness welling in his eyes. “I was only 13 and my Dad was the one who found her. He didn’t care that he did that to her. He just packed up his things and left.”

“Shawn.” I try to comfort him but I don’t think there was any measure of comfort I could offer considering what he’d been through. “I vowed that night when both my parents left me that I would never let my life be controlled by the Government the way my Mother’s life had been. Its been 8 years since then and not once have I ever broken that vow. Not until I met you.” His eyes hold my gaze and I feel a heat creep up over my cheeks.

“And that’s why you don’t want a soulmate.” I finish for him and he his hand moves further up my back so his palm is splayed firmly between my shoulder blades.

“That’s not all.” He mutters and I feel a chill creep up my spine. “I’m my father’s son, Y/n.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“If I gave into this soulmate thing, gave into you,” He pauses to let his words settle and I feel my heart flutter at them. “Whose to say that I won’t turn into what my father was. Hurt my own soulmate who I was meant to look out for and take care of.”

“You’re not your father Shawn.” I tell him and he lets my hands go to cup his cheeks, stopping our dancing. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“I already have.” He bites his lip and I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. “When we first met at your school, Jeremy wanted me to take care of the witnesses, I said I would. You were one of them and I hurt you.”

“I don’t remember..?” I trail off, confused with where this was going. I remember having a lump on my head but I thought it was because I had fallen during the attack.

“I smashed your head against the wall and you blacked out.” He spits out and I feel a sick feeling rise in my belly.

“Shawn.” He can tell that I’m beginning to feel the effects of fear, fear of him.

“I watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you passed out in my arms.” He’s put up his walls again. The shields that stop me from getting close. “And when I picked you up I remember how light and fragile you felt. I thought, how could I have done this to my soulmate?” He laughs, the sound harsh against my ears.

“You were just following what Jeremy said-” I try to excuse his actions but Shawn isn’t having it.

“There is no excuse for what I did. I hurt you before I even got to know you and I never want to put you in a situation like that again. If we’re together, you’re only going to be in danger.”

“I can handle it.” I beg him, pulling him to me as he tries to get out of my grip.

“There’s so many people who could hurt you for being with someone like me. It could be the libertas, Jeremy, the Government or what about your soulmate, huh? I could just as easily break you.” His words are sharp yet I don’t let them cut me.

“I trust you Shawn!” I say desperately and he stops struggling against my hold, stops talking, just stares at me. I wrap my arms back around him, over his shoulders and winding my fingers through his hair. Gripping the back of his head I push him forward until his lips touch mine.

I couldn’t breathe. His lips pressed feverishly onto mine and within a second he’s kissing me back. He leans closer to me and his hands are everywhere. On my hips, sliding up and over onto my back, the heat of his fingertips alighting a fire on my skin that made me dizzy.

He doesn’t part from me, instead kisses me harder, sending tremors along every nerve and evoking feelings I had tried to hide from him. I knew it now though. My arrogant, wilful soulmate had stolen a part of my heart, and I didn’t know if I would get it back.

#shawn mendes #shawn #mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes soul mate #shawn mendes soul mate x badboy #shawn mendes bad boy #shawn mendes badboy au #shawn mendes soulmate au #shawn mendes au #writing #welldamnshawn

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liray-stylespk · 4 years ago

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lordsicheng · 7 years ago

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Three is a Charm: (Pt. 2)

Justin Huang x Yoo Seonho x OC

Genre: Very fluffy, best friends AU

During class, you somehow kept thinking about Guanlin. You were wondering why he suddenly approached you randomly twice that day, and you kind of thought his gestures were cute. You were in a daze looking at the board, smiling and obviously daydreaming, and Justin next to you just looked at you and had a confused look on his face. He then elbowed Seonho lightly, and Seonho just immediately looked at Justin annoyingly

“What?” Seonho whispered, putting down his pen

Justin then pointed at you, still daydreaming, and Seonho just sighed and chuckled as he reached out his hand to snap his fingers in front of you, and you suddenly went back to reality once he snapped his fingers a couple of times. You looked at them, becoming suddenly confused and just opened your mouth in confusion

“How long was I in a daze?” you asked, trying to bring out one of your textbooks

“About fifteen minutes” Justin shrugged as he looked back at the board

“Oh shoot, I need to return this book I borrowed last week” you said as you grabbed a small textbook

“I’ll go with you” Seonho said as he stood up

“You guys better hurry up, we only have ten minutes left before our teacher comes” he said as he looked up at both you and Seonho

“It’ll just be five minutes. Seonho?” you smiled as you gestured Seonho to go with you out of the classroom and to the library

You walked hurriedly with Seonho to the library, relieved to find the librarian at the small counter where you were allowed to return books

“Hello, ma’am. I’d like to return this book.” you smiled as you politely gave the librarian the book, and she just smiled back and nodded as she checked the book

“No damages. Alright, please sign here.” she looked at you as she gave the small list of returned books, and you were surprised to see Guanlin’s name on the last 5 books returned

“Wow, Guanlin returned a lot of books” you muttered

“Oh, Guanlin? He frequently borrows books here in the library. He is one of the top borrowers here.” the librarian stated

“That’s… interesting…” Seonho said as he looked at you sign, and you gave back the list once you were done

“I’ll borrow a book again soon. Thank you!” you smiled as you and Seonho both bowed and went out of the library immediately, where you saw Guanlin on his way to the library as well

“Oh, y/n? Fancy seeing you here.” he smiled

“Hey Seonho” he smiled as he greeted, and Seonho just gave a quick smile and looked away

“I saw your name on the borrower’s list. You seem to borrow a lot of books here.” you beamed

“I like reading. Makes me learn a lot of things and it helps with my vocabulary at times, too.” he chuckled as he shrugged

“We better get going.” Seonho tapped your shoulder, and you just kept looking at Guanlin

“We need to go. Classes, you know. The usual.” you grinned

“Alright, see you guys around.” he smiled and nodded before going inside the library, and you couldn’t help but give Seonho an annoyed look, and Seonho just sighed

“Could you be any more impatient?” you said before you walked ahead first back to your classroom, and Seonho just rolled his eyes as he followed you

“If I had known you wanted to talk to Guanlin more I should have left you” Seonho said in reply

“Hurry up, we’re late.” you said without looking back at Seonho

“Hurry up, we’re late.” Seonho repeated you mockingly, making you just sigh and walk faster to your classroom

After classes, you, Seonho and Justin decided to hang out at the mall and try to find a fast food place you guys could chill at. Justin ended up dragging both you and Seonho to McDonald’s, since he ended up craving for some fries

“Anything you guys want?” Justin said as he stood in line to order

“Nuggets.” you and Seonho said in unison

“Geez you both are too similar” Justin sighed as he looked back and noticed it was his turn to order

“We’ll look for seats” you smiled as you dragged Seonho with you to find a table and luckily, you both found a table that was fit for four people. Once you sat down, Seonho sat right across you and gave you a straight face, and you crossed your arms as you rolled your eyes

“Look, I’m sorry for being a baby earlier” Seonho sighed

“You should be friendlier, you know” you said as you looked through window beside you

“How was I supposed to know you had a crush on Guanlin?!” Seonho suddenly blurted out, and Justin already stood next to the table, eyes widened by surprise while holding your orders. You looked at Justin becoming mortified before looking back at Seonho, who definitely regretted what he just said

“Great job, Seonho! Now Justin became a statue!” you waved your hands

“Guys, is there something I should know?” Justin slowly put the orders on the table and sat next to you, and you just buried your face in your hands

“We were… practicing! For a stage… thing….” Seonho coughed as he tried to make an excuse

“Seonho, you know I can tell when someone’s lying” Justin crossed his arms

“I don’t want to fight, we’re best friends. And I want to be honest this time: yes, I like Guanlin. I think.” you furrowed your brows as you took a sip of your soda through a straw

“Okay, so? I have crushes too?” Justin raised a brow, making you and Seonho look at him bewildered

“Just how many crushes do you have young man?” Seonho asked as he put a piece of french fry on his mouth

“2…3….4! Maybe 5 if you include someone from the senior class” Justin said as he counted with his fingers

“Dude, chill.” you gave a straight face as you grabbed your box of chicken nuggets

“I’m a growing boy! And it’s normal to have crushes in our age. Right, Seonho?” Justin said as he looked at Seonho, who tried avoiding his gaze

“Seonho?” you called as you looked at him

“I just wanted to eat my nuggets, not talk about girls…” Seonho finally looked at you and Justin, who looked at you and ended up laughing

“Don’t take this seriously, guys. I mean, we’re at an age where we need to learn things little by little. Right?” Justin shrugged as he fed himself a nugget

“True. Sorry for being insensitive, again.” Seonho gave a small smile as he shrugged

“Anyways, why do you like Guanlin, y/n?” Justin asked as he sipped some of his soda

“He’s… nice… and really hardworking on his studies… he’s a little bit cute too… and really tall…. his skin is so mochi-like… his cheeks really look soft.. and his eyes… wow…” you giggled at just the thought of Guanlin, making Seonho and Justin laugh in reply

“What?” you furrowed your brows

“So this is how a girl falls in love. Ayeeeee” Justin teased you by poking your cheek, and you slapped his hand away right after he poked for the second time

“I don’t understand boys when they fall in love. Do they tell their friends immediately? Do they hide their feelings? Do they still do those icky love letters and give it to them?” you complained as you chewed on one of your nuggets

“Sometimes, yes, and maybe.” Seonho smirked, grabbing another piece of french fry

“You know how teens are like nowadays, technology is the way.” Justin said as he grabbed his burger

“Isn’t courting a thing these days? Like those cheesy stuff you see in dramas or even in romance movies?” you sighed

“We can’t answer that. You both know I’ve never asked a girl out.” Seonho said as he rested his crossed arms on the table

“Me neither. I may have a lot of crushes, but I’m definitely not into dating right now.” Justin said as he took a bite out of his burger

“There are times when a girl confesses first, though?” you tilted your head, confused

“Only 60% get their feelings accepted by the guys they confess to. The rest is either they get rejected or the silent treatment.” Seonho said as he grabbed a piece of nugget from his own box

“How do you know this stuff?” Justin looked at Seonho

“I just do.” Seonho shrugged as he ate a whole nugget

“I shouldn’t have asked you both. I need to talk to a girl…” you crossed your arms as you looked at the table

“Who are you gonna talk to? Your mom?” Justin looked at you, perplexed

“Hey, mom?” you said as you stood by the doorway to your living room

“Yes, sweetie?” she smiled as she put away the magazine she was reading while on the sofa

“Can I ask you about something?” you slowly approached her and sat next to her

“Sure, what’s the matter?” she smiled as she slowly ran her hand through your hair

“When did you and dad meet?” you asked

“Me and your dad have been friends since middle school, y/n. But he moved to another city for high school, and then came back here for university. We were not able to see each other for a long while, but we ended up seeing each other at campus. So we slowly became friends, and slowly became lovers. And here we are, together for 22 years, happily married for 19.” she smiled as she looked at you, and you just nodded

“I see. Mom, how do you know when you like someone?” you smiled, and she gave you a puzzled look

“Are you crushing on someone, y/n?” she chuckled

“I’m not sure. But please, what’s it like?” you grinned, trying to convince your mom

“You feel butterflies in your tummy when you see him, and you always try to imagine where he would be or what he would be doing if you don’t see him within the day. You end up talking about him at times even without knowing it, and sometimes, you would even try to become closer to them to get to know them better yourself.” she said as she sighed and smiled, and you again just nodded at every explanation she gave you

“So, did you feel that way when you saw dad for the first time?” you looked at her, and she looked back at you

“I guess you could say that. I mean, he was the one who courted me in the first place. So I guess, that’s how it all started? Your father is a virtuous and hardworking man, and that made me fall for him right then and there.” she smiled, looking at a family photo frame hung from across the room

“Thank you, mom.” you said as you kissed her cheek and quickly ran off to your room

“Oh and, sweetie?” she called out before you could get out of the room, and you looked at her

“Be careful when you fall in love. Don’t let your feelings eat you up and get in the way of your current friendships.” she smiled as she stood up

“Yes, mom. If ever. But I guess I won’t be in a relationship soon.” you laughed as you ran back to your room

You tried to take in mind everything your mom told you, and you felt confused on what to do with the whole Guanlin situation. Your best friends understood you in a way, and you really don’t have any other person to tell your feelings about. Sure, you had friends that were girls, but you felt as if they’d end up judging you if ever you fell for someone that easily. Besides, it was just a crush, you thought. And you really believed you’re probably not Guanlin’s type, so you just calmed yourself down and tried to grab your phone, until it vibrated and saw Seonho was calling through video call.

“Hey” you greeted as you accepted the video call

“Hold on, Justin’s joining.” he said as he accepted Justin’s call and you three started a video chat

“So, any luck?” Justin asked as he was drinking water

“You know moms, they tell you their experiences and you try to take it all in. It did help, though, but I am still really confused.” you sighed as you went back to your bed and lied down

“Hey, cheer up. You have us.” Seonho chuckled as he looked at the phone and then to his computer screen

“My best-best friends?” you chuckled

“I’m still surprised at how us three became such close friends” Justin said as he was walking to his room

“We should call ourselves the three little pigs” Seonho laughed, making you perplexed and Justin scowl

“Who you calling a pig?” Justin said as he sat on his bed

“Whether you like it or not, Justin, we’re all baby piglets” you shook your head as you laughed

“You’re both beasts, and I’m-“

“A beauty?” Seonho cut off Justin, making you laugh even harder and Justin just chuckled

“I do get compliments on being beautiful” Justin smiled as he ruffled his own hair

“Gross” you muttered, making Justin roll his eyes jokingly

“Hey, I gotta finish this paper for English class” Seonho said as he looked at his phone

“Oh, right! I’ll do it tomorrow at the library. Deadline’s Wednesday anyway.” you shrugged

“Same. Y/n, help me out, alright? I gotta sleep in a while” Justin said as he lied on his bed

“Good night, piggies. See you tomorrow.” you said as you waved

“Just… why pigs!” Justin gave a straight face, and Seonho just made a piglet noise in reply before you could drop the call and laugh

You were about to put your phone to your side table and go to sleep, until you heard your notification tone ring and immediately checked your phone again to see a message from Guanlin

“What?” you said as you hurriedly sat up and suddenly had the biggest smile on your face. You opened the message to see it was a chat, so you replied immediately

“Y/n?” “Guanlin! Heyyyy~” “I thought you were asleep already, haha” “Nope! I was about to sleep” “Did I wake you up o_o” “Noooo it’s fine! What’s up?” “Um, nothing much, just… chatting with you? ^^” “Aren’t you gonna sleep soon haha” “I can’t sleep, actually. Although I might watch a bit of TV in a while” “You must have slept early back then, you’re really tall” “My dad’s tall, and I play basketball a lot. So I guess I was blessed?” “Send over some height” “If I could, I would” “Thanks in advance my friend” “Hey, y/n?” “Yep?” “I need to... find a gift tomorrow for my sister’s birthday…” “Oh! What are you getting her?” “That’s the problem, I don’t know what to give her…..” “Hmm, something she likes?” “That’s another problem, I don’t know what she likes!” “Are you serious right now” “Just… can you help me find a gift tomorrow after school? We can go to Myeongdong together…” “…sure, anything to help a friend~” “YAAAAAY \o/” “You sure do type your smileys often” “I’ll wait for you tomorrow outside your room after classes ^^” “Okay~ see youuuuu” “Good night y/n~” “Niiiiight”

You widened your eyes as you lied back down on your bed, suddenly giggling and kicking your legs around, making your blanket fall off your bed. You couldn’t stop smiling at the fact that Guanlin “kind of” asked you out. But is he doing it on purpose? Or does he actually just need help?

You buried your face in your pillow, trying to let out a small squeal as you couldn’t help but hide your excitement over how tomorrow might go with Guanlin.

#yoo seonho #justin huang #huang justin #huang minghao #lai guanlin #lai kuanlin #yuehua boys #yuehua sprouts #produce 101 scenarios #produce 101 imagines #produce 101 reactions #wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines

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ladiekatie · 7 years ago

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Prompt for @ladydrace s anon under the cut.

Prompt: Something angsty with happy ending: what about infertile omega Stiles? The society say"If the omega can't give a child, the alpha can mate another omega to keep his line of descent". And it hurts to Stiles, because Derek is the last Hale, so he start to interview another omegas for Derek? But Derek said him that it doesn't matter, Stiles is only mate.

It’s been close to two years that they’ve been trying to add an heir to the Hale Pack. Stiles, as the mate and omega of the alpha werewolf he has one sole purpose, to produce that heir. It seems he can’t even do the one thing he was meant to do.

“I’m afraid your test results have come back. It looks like,” the OBGYN looks up from the file, eyes pinched. The file closes in his hands and he looks up to meet the eyes of the omega in front of him, “the likelihood of you being able to produce a viable egg for insemination, is very slim,” he pauses to gauge Stiles’ reaction, “impossible, more likely.”

Stiles stops listening to the words the doctor is saying, a stream of tears rolling down his face. A tissue blots at the tears as his mind already turns to what is going to happen now. Behind him the doctor is talking about his options, and treatments he could undergo, but Stiles knows what this means.

He’s infertile.

With no way to supply his alpha with a child, he was practically useless. Soon, Derek will take a new omega, one that isn’t broken. Someone who can give him the family he craves.

Stiles had gone to the appointment alone, Derek busy with his alpha duties. It was also unexpected of alphas to participate omega errands such as this. At worst he thought he was going to need some help getting pregnant, possibly needing to take part in IVF or something. The news he gets is far worse and more devastating than he can stand. The omega wishes his mate was with him.

He exits the office with a handful of pamphlets of agencies that will help find a viable omega. He’s not sure how long he sits in the parking lot, staring at the offensive pieces of paper, understanding just what they implied. His replacement is imminent.

Rage filled his barren belly and he screamed. It’s completely improper for an omega to show anything but pleasant emotions, which is why he waited to get to the comfort of his car. As if to mock him, a heavily pregnant omega walks passed his car with a toddler on her hip and another by her side. She saw Stiles slam his hand into the steering wheel and hurries her children to the door of the doctor’s office.

At this point, Stiles doesn’t care about omega propriety, he’s already a screw up, might as well keep that train going.

The stack of pamphlets in his hand get ripped to shreds, tears flowing as he does so. When the papers are thoroughly shredded, he opens the window and throws it out. The sick similarity it makes to confetti makes Stiles even more mad.

He doesn’t remember the drive home, or the walk into the house that would never house a child he carried. Looking at the nursery that is set up next to the master bedroom sends a new wave of overwhelming sadness into Stiles’ heart. Without a warning, he collapses on the floor, looking into the nursery he worked so hard to put together for his first child, a child they expected a over a year ago.

The house is quiet, thankfully, the pack Derek made after his family died in a horrible fire years ago is out training. Stiles remains on the floor, curling into himself, hands on his stomach that will forever be flat. Empty.

While he’s on the floor he starts to think of solutions, what he can do to spare himself of the embarrassment of being the barren mate of the last standing member of the Hale Wolf Pack. He considers running away, but he can’t possibly leave Derek. Derek is his mate, his everything. Leaving would cause them both an intense amount of pain, maybe to the point of death.

Ultimately he decides to keep it quiet, for as long as he can. He needs time to work this through himself, before he sees Derek take another omega. He has another heat coming in a couple of weeks, he’ll insist that everything is fine. They’ll continue trying for something that will never happen.

His next heat comes and goes, with no change in the results. Derek is saddened by the news of another unsuccessful heat, Stiles knows why and it breaks his heart. His alpha smells the sadness on the omega, but doesn’t know the true reason for it, assuming it’s for the negative test in his hands.

Slowly, Stiles starts accepting his fate. He feels guilt every time Derek fucks into him without knowing it’s all for nothing. Stiles goes and gets more pamphlets for the omega finding agencies. Their websites are all informative but what they provide still doesn’t sit right with Stiles. He closes out the tabs and finishes dinner before the betas crowd into the kitchen.

Two more heats pass, Stiles still unable to carry a child. With each passing heat Derek always reminds Stiles that their time will come, that they will have a child together. The omega has grown very good at hiding his emotions, and feigning hopefulness when he felt hopelessness.

More time is spent on those agency websites. He creates an account, using his alpha’s name because as an omega he is ineligible to do this sort of business. Slowly he feeds his way through thousands of applicants, all omegas without packs, searching to be someone’s omega. There is even a section specifically for second omegas, which Stiles spends a lot of time looking at.

All the while maintaining his ignorant act. Sometimes it’s easy, like when Derek is sad by another negative pregnancy test. Other times it’s hard, like when Derek thrusts into him with talk of breeding, and seeing Stiles big and round with his pups.

Stiles sets up his first interview with a young omega named Natalie on a Tuesday morning, She asks where Derek is, considering she thought she was meeting with him, Stiles comes up with the excuse that Derek is out of town on last minute business. Natalie seems nice, but she’s young, only 17, and she twirls her hair. She’s not the one. Stiles shakes her hand and escorts her out. Stiles wonders if Derek would like a younger omega. She’d be able to provide more children compared to Stiles. He’s 26, ancient in omega childbearing years. This is going to be hard.

Derek comes home and catches Natalie’s scent on Stiles.

“Who’s that on you?” he asks, if it were a beta or alpha scent he’d probably be more upset. It’s not uncommon for omega’s to hang out with other omegas.

“An omega named Natalie, probably won’t be seeing her again,” Stiles continues to chop veggies for the stew he’s making. Derek’s arms wrap around Stiles’ flat stomach, rubbing a little at the possibility of a new life. Stiles knew better.

That seemed to be the end of that. At least for a few days.

“Okay, what is going on?” Derek asks, as he gets close to Stiles, smelling an omega named Damien on him.

“What do you mean?” Stiles says, stirring a pot on the stove.

“You’ve smelled of a new omega everyday for the past week. Normally, I wouldn’t notice, but it’s covering up your own scent.” The alpha moves in on his omega.

“I told you, I’m just meeting new people, finding new friends.” Stiles says, trying to keep his heart steady.

“No, there’s something you’re not telling me,” he pulls at his husband, trying to get them to face each other. “You’ve been different for months. What’s going on with you?” He takes the omega’s face into his hands, tilting his head so their eyes meet.

Stiles figures now is the time. Now or never. The scent in the air changes instantly to a putrid smell of distressed omega.

“I-” Stiles starts, but a cat catches his tongue and a series of sounds comes out. Tears fall, and his face gets taken into his hands. He’s suddenly weak and he needs to sit down. Derek catches him as he slips down the front of the stove.

“Stiles?” Worry fills his voice as he picks up Stiles and takes him to the kitchen table. “Should I call a doctor? Are you-?” The question goes unasked.

“No,” Stiles says breathing heavily before he can finish. “I’m not pregnant,” Stiles looks up to meet his alpha’s eyes, “I’ll never be.” His face is soaked with tears.

“Wh- what are you talking about?” Derek asks, eyes roaming Stiles’ face searching for an answer.

“I- I went to the doctor; a few months back,” this is suddenly so much harder than he could imagine. “I went because we had been trying to have a pup for two years with nothing,” his stomach drops, wondering what Derek will say. “I was worried something was wrong with me,” he diverts his eyes because he doesn’t want to know what Derek’s face will look like. “I was right.”

Derek has tears in his own eyes now. “What does that mean? Stiles, what’s wrong?” a hint of alpha influence seeps in.

“I can’t have pups,” he just says it. Ripping the bandaid off.

Derek doesn’t say anything, “wha- what?”

The question sends Stiles into a rage, the same rage he felt when he first found out. “I’m damaged! I’m broken!” He stands up, releasing Derek’s hands from his person. “I’m infertile!” Stiles motions to his stomach, “there will never be pups in here. I can’t have babies!”

“We’ve- It’s been-” Derek stutters trying to get a clear thought in his head. “How long have you known?” Tears fall from his eyes, though not as abundant as Stiles’.

The omega is embarrassed to say, “almost a year.” Derek doesn’t look at Stiles, he just keeps looking at the chair where the omega was moments ago.

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” Derek’s voice is soft, broken.

“I was selfish? I can’t- I couldn’t stand to see you with another omega. I needed time.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The voice that comes from the alpha is a broken voice Stiles never thought he would hear.

Stiles sighs, and looks to his alpha, who still hasn’t moved from where he was crouching in front of Stiles’ chair.

“You need a new omega. One who can give you the children you want. I’ve been setting up interviews, trying to find someone who you’ll like,” he swallows around the huge lump in his throat. “Someone who will give you the family you crave. An omega better than me.”

That’s what Stiles was really afraid of. That now, being barren, he wasn’t the best thing for Derek. There had to be someone out there who could be better for Derek.

“I don’t- Stiles what the hell? I don’t need a new omega!” Derek finally stands and looks to where Stiles is standing.

“Yes! You do! You need someone who can give you a family. Someone who can give you everything I can’t,” they’re looking at eachother now.

“No Stiles. I don’t, I need you.” Derek says, voice cracking. “You, are my mate. You are the only one I would wish to have children with. The idea of having any other omega in by bed besides you makes me sick to my stomach,” Derek moves to Stiles. “Those rules are barbaric, idiotic even. You have given me everything I could have ever asked for. Why in the world would you think differently?”

They’re closer now, Derek has Stiles’ hands in his, but Stiles’ eyes won’t meet Derek’s.

“I can’t give you a family,” Stiles says, still averting his eyes.

“Stiles, look at me,” just enough influence to make Stiles look up to his alpha. “You are my family. Pups would be amazing, but I don’t need them,” Stiles eyes are filled with tears again, this time the air isn’t filled with putrid fear. “I have you. My mate, the only omega I could ever want or need.”

“But-”

Derek stops Stiles with a kiss. There is salt on Stiles’ lips, from all his tears, it makes the kiss bittersweet. Both of them realizing what Derek is giving up by choosing to keep one omega despite society’s approval of taking another in situations like this.

“You are the only one I want, the only one I need. Don’t you dare say you can’t give me everything I want, because you already have,” Derek kisses Stiles again, this time something in the air that he hasn’t smelled probably since Stiles found out about his infertility.

The feeling of relief fills Stiles, it’s an emotion that he can’t even believe he’s feeling.

“So I can stop interviewing omegas for you?” Stiles asks tears still clouding his eyes. He feels as though he knows the answer.

Derek lets out a laugh, it surrounded by a mixture of emotions, but it’s a full bellied laugh. “Yes, please.”

Stiles and Derek reside to the fact that they would never have biological children, but they couldn’t turn away the pup that is dropped on their doorstep a few months later. Her little claws clutching a letter telling of her werewolf lineage, and the mother’s inability to care for her, to give her a pack.

Two years later, a child in the foster system is exposed to have clawd and bright gold eyes. They couldn’t leave him there.

A teenager whose family died by the hands of hunters shows up, begging for refuge.

A toddler left on the side of the road after wolfing out on a family vacation.

A wolfpup baby whose mother didn’t survive childbirth.

Even though none of their children came from their own selves, Stiles loved them even more than he could imagine, and Derek is the alpha to them that they need. In the end, the Hale line doesn’t end, it flourishes. Stiles’ belly may have never been full, but his heart was.

#sterek abo #sterek #sterek au #abo #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #my writing

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juniperallura · 7 years ago

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Woman King: Chapter Nine

ao3 / header art / playlist

In the summer the Castle seemed to sprout from the hillside, its carved earthen facade at home amidst the overgrown greenery surrounding the village. Even as dusk settled over Altea, its walls would appear to reflect the warm glow from the town lanterns.

Now, as Shiro hunched low over his dappled horse against the biting wind, the Castle only seemed to loom over him, dark and foreboding. The winter sun, always low in the sky, cast a cutting shadow from behind the ice-coated spires.

It took everything in Shiro’s power not to turn around and gallop back toward his orchard. There, all that waited for him was an empty cottage, the creaking branches of his frosted trees, and the gruff gardener hired by Coran to help tend to the winter pruning while Shiro was away.

The old man, with his hands as gnarled as the branches of the trees, wasn’t a terrible companion. For the most part he operated on a ‘no speaking unless spoken to’ policy; the notable exceptions being urgent orchard matters and the occasion grunted question, usually something like, “You’re a strange one, huh, boy?” Sometimes he even accepted Shiro’s offer of tea, and they would sit silently by the fire until the old man muttered his thanks and shuffled off.

What awaited him in the Castle was a different story.

Perhaps not so lonely; but, with Allura gone, lonely enough. Keith’s week at the Castle had gone quickly, much of it spent with Lance anyway, and then he was gone, back to his master’s workshop. Lance kept his distance, either still slow to trust or still embarrassed by their earlier encounters. After the first fortnight Coran had left to join Allura in her land survey, and thus the Castle had emptied of Shiro’s few allies.

That was the other thing about Allura being gone; without her commanding presence in court, there was not much holding back her ministers and generals. As often as they could, they pulled Shiro away from his training to stand over him in some dimly lit chamber and fling question after question.

When were you captured? How? What is the exact location of the camp? How many prisoners? How many guards? Who was in charge? Did they force you to labor? Beat you? Take your arm? How did you escape? When? What are their reinforcements like? Do they plan to move south?

Most of them were questions he couldn’t answer.

“What do you mean, you don’t know-” One of the more zealous interrogators, Iverson, would growl. He would slam his hands down on the bare wooden table, glaring at Shiro as he flinched. “If I sawed off your other arm, would that jog your memory?”

At that point another officer would usually step in, reminding Iverson that Shiro was a guest of the Queen, and she would have all their heads should any harm befall him.

By the third week, Shiro found that he couldn’t get the ringing questions out of his head. In the gray morning light he stared into his reflection, at the puffy rings under his eyes and the dark stubble shading his jaw, and wondered. What did happen to him? He splashed cold water over his face again, watching as it dripped off his lips and the tip of his nose and back into the basin.

He could remember bits and pieces. Being captured on the battlefield. Blinding pain. Someone bandaging his severed arm. A few faces, his fellow prisoners. Anything else had just been his nightmare’s attempts at filling in the blanks— until the previous day.

Shiro had been preparing for his daily training, sitting to tend to his blade after stretching. On the other side of the pitch one of the officers was drilling his men, a sprinting exercise. His bark carried across the grass, “Keep moving, keep moving!”

Suddenly, a vision flashed before Shiro’s eyes. A stormy sky, a steep path washed out with mud. The butt of a spear in his side as a grating voice shouted over the river of straggling men. “Keep moving!”

Just as quickly as it came, it was gone. Shiro was still sitting at the edge of the arena; although now he gasped for breath and searched wildly for a sense of place and time.

The next day something similar happened, when the grate of his bedroom window flickered into the image of a cell door before returning to normal. The second time was equally as disorienting, but eventually the feeling passed.

Later, at the communal table, Shiro relayed the experience to Keith as he pushed his dinner around with a fork. Keith watched him with a frown.

“I haven’t much advice to give you,” the young swordsman said, “But maybe your memory is returning, because of Iverson’s questions.”

“I’d rather it stay put,” Shiro sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It is bad enough I howl like a banshee in my sleep, now I have visions. They’ll try me as a witch before the Queen even begins her journey home.”

Keith glanced around the mess hall, but everyone was too distracted by their own conversations to notice theirs. “I would watch speaking like that in public. Don’t worry, Shiro. I’m sure it’s nothing. And besides-” The corner of his lip twitched mischievously- “I predict you will forget all about this once Her Majesty returns.”

Shiro’s face flushed; he was beginning to regret telling Keith about his last night with Allura. “Does the Prince know about- what happened?”

“No, a Gaian wouldn’t break his word to a fellow countryman,” Keith said, taking a bite from his biscuit, “But Lance has a way of finding out about these things, so I can make no promises as to how long his ignorance will last. None of the serving girls saw you, right?”

Shiro frowned, “I believe not.”

“Good. If one had,” Keith shook his head, “You would have no hope. Even the Queen couldn’t stop that from spreading like wildfire. And with the way they look at you-”

“How do they look at me?”

Keith raised a brow. “Like they used to look at Lance.”

Shiro’s face reddened and he made no answer. He had a feeling Keith was wrong, about his flashbacks, but all the same, he couldn’t help thinking it would all be more bearable with the Queen by his side.

The Queen. A nagging thought he hadn’t been able to rid himself of since their kiss made him frown. His mind turned again to his treatment at the hands of Allura’s generals. He had relied too heavily on her protection.

Shiro stabbed at his potato, trying to tamp down the unpleasant revelation that threatened to tie his stomach in knots. He forced himself to focus on Keith, who had started talking about his next dagger innovation, and not on the long week that sat between him and Allura’s return.

Shiro had been spending more time in the stables, for the dual purpose of visiting his dappled mare and avoiding the Castle halls. The war ministers were either glowering suspiciously at him or pestering him to constantly relive the worst experience of his life, in the Galra camp. The noblemen and women glared and stared, fascinated and disgusted by his strangeness.

The Castle staff at least had a little more decorum about it, but every time Shiro left a room he saw the tail end of a curious crowd dispersing and he was acutely aware of the eyes of the servant girls, always observing him and flickering messages to their companions.

The emotional weight of it was crushing, really. There was no peace, no escape.

Except, he had discovered, in the stables, with its musk, and crunching straw, and soft undertow of whinnying.

So there he was again when the long month was finally drawing closed, taking deep breaths and appreciating the quiet groundedness afforded to him by his horse’s nuzzling. He was desperately hoping the Queen would beat the winter storm that loomed overhead in gathering clouds, lest she be delayed any further, when the door suddenly flew open with a great creak, sending a shiver of icy air through the room.

From the bright stream of afternoon light emerged a figure cloaked in thick wool and fur. A hand reached up to draw back the heavy hood, revealing tumbling silver curls and the glint of a tiara.

“Shiro,” Allura said breathlessly, smiling as the door shut behind her with a thud. Her hair glowed in the white winter sun that flooded in from the window, like the halo of an apparition. Shiro was frozen, mouth slightly agape, but she strode toward him, not minding the dust and straw her trailing cloak stirred.

As she drew near, one hand pulled the thick riding glove off the other. Her bare hand, tinged like her cheeks and the tip of her nose, reached out and curled around Shiro’s collar. In one swift movement she stepped forward, pulled, and leaned up to catch his lips on hers.

Shiro stiffened, surprised, but after a moment relaxed into her touch with a deep exhale. Her lips were soft, but adamant, and she smelled of the cold. Her hands, cool against his skin, sent a shiver down his spine as their chill brushed against his face, his neck, his chest. His own hand found Allura’s chin, angling her face so he could kiss her properly, deeply. Shiro realized then how hungry he had been for her touch, how the memory of their first kiss had haunted him all those weeks.

He could have stayed like that forever, savoring the sweetness of her lips against his, but she tore slowly apart from him. He had ended up with his back against the stall door, her weight leaning into him and hand resting against his chest.

“Hello,” Allura chuckled, blinking up at him with bright eyes.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty. Your safe return appeases many of my worries,” Shiro smiled, reaching to bring her hand to his lips. “But you are freezing. Why didn’t you get out of the cold, first?”

“Because I have been dreaming of doing that all month,” she hummed.

A satisfied smile curled over Shiro’s lips. It was shamefully nice to hear her voice again, never mind that his head was still spinning from her greeting. His eyes dropped to her lips, full and inviting. He was about to lean in for another kiss, but the door’s groaning hinges announced an incoming visitor.

Allura immediately dropped his hand, practically leaping back from him. She cleared her throat, “-I will have Coran provide the correspondence, but I expect you to be at the meeting as well.”

“Of course, Queen Allura,” Shiro nodded, trying to keep a dower face. Then he felt a pang in his chest, a reminder of the thoughts that had been gathering in the back of his head all month. He opened his mouth, but thought better of the timing when he saw the delighted mischief in Allura’s eyes. Instead, he simply nodded again.

Allura didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. He swore he even saw the corner of her mouth twitch up before she turned and swept back toward the the door. “As you were,” she said curtly to the poor stable hand, who had dropped onto his knee at the sight of her. Shiro couldn’t imagine what flashed in Allura’s eyes when the boy met her glance. He turned back to his horse, trying to quell his foolish smile that had returned to his lips.

Apparently Allura was eager to jump back into her regular duties and only hours after her return a council meeting was called. The itinerary was short, the council head promising not to hold the Queen too long after her trip, but Shiro was having trouble focusing.

All through the meeting, he could feel her eyes on him. They would flicker away to ask a question, or review a document, or address a suggestion, but then would return to his, flashing ice blue. It was with some embarrassment that Shiro discerned an almost appraising look in her glance. Even more embarrassing was that he couldn’t help but return the expression. Indeed, he would never had guessed she had ridden hard and fast through an approaching storm that very afternoon. The candelabra on the table before her cast a shimmering light over her deep skin, the elegant lines of her arms emerging from trailing sleeves, the gloss of her lips as they parted, her waterfall of silver tresses.

It was all quite distracting, and made what he was about to do all the more difficult.

Eventually a distant chiming announced the end of the hour and Coran stepped in to insist that the Queen be allowed to retire for the night. Shiro waited until the ministers had bid her goodnight and turned their attention back to the table. With quick steps he caught up to her before she swept through the doorway.

“Queen Allura-” He gave her a quick bow. “My apologies, I know the hour is late, but I was hoping I might request a word with Your Highness.”

A smile spread across her face, as if she had been hoping he would approach her. “It is not so late that I couldn’t spare a moment. Would you walk with me to my chambers? There will be time enough on the way.”

Shiro’s glance flickered to the figures that milled behind them. He frowned, saying in a low voice, “I’m afraid this conversation requires a more- private location.”

Allura arched her eyebrow, eyes flashing, and Shiro swore he saw color come into her cheeks. “Very well, then.” She stepped ahead of him into the hall, gesturing over her shoulder for him to follow. After they put a few feet between themselves and the meeting chamber she said quietly, “Inviting yourself into a lady’s bedchamber— I never expected something so forward from you, Shiro.”

It took a moment for him to register what she was saying. At once he felt something dropping into the pit of his stomach and most of his blood rushing to his face. “Oh, Your Majesty, I didn’t- I would never-” He stammered, cutting himself off with a sigh before he made a bigger fool of himself. Allura was watching him with a highly amused smile. Shiro ran a hand through his hair. “I only meant, it involves the night before your trip, and earlier, in the stables…”

Allura’s expression began to fade as she watched his brow knit, heard the weight in his voice. She nodded, leading him silently down the corridor to her chambers.

The door closed behind him with a soft thud. She crossed the floor, skirt rustling as she sat at her vanity. She met his gaze in the mirror. “So?”

“Right.” Shiro bit his lip, taking a quick breath to calm the nervous pounding in his chest. “Well, Your Highness-”

“-Allura,” she corrected him, turning on her stool to face him. “We’re alone. Please— Allura.”

He nodded. “Of course, Allura. Well, I have been thinking, over this month-” Shiro paused, trying again. “This month, I spent a good deal of time at my orchard. Thomas- the gardener- was a helpful companion. And I spent time here, training. And, well, with your generals.” Allura was leaning forward on her stool now, watching him carefully. “I know your feelings about their questioning me, but I felt it would make my life easier if I complied, and maybe repay them for taking me into their ranks as they have. It hasn’t been very fruitful-” He cracked a dry smile, which faded quickly- “But reliving those moments, and looking at where I am now-” He sucked in another breath. She was still staring at him intently. “All of this, and what happened between us- especially what happened between us- has been, confusing, to say the least. And I realized I made a mistake. I acted rashly, and I fear it will only have caused you trouble.”

Allura was frowning. She stood, slowly, pulling the tiara from her forehead and pinching the bridge of her nose. “I confess I do not follow you completely, Shiro.”

There was an awful second of silence before Shiro said, “I shouldn’t have kissed you. All those nights, when we walked together- I shouldn’t have tried to bring you so close to me— I shouldn’t even be here right now.” He dragged his hand down his face. “You are the Queen. You wield the power of the army, your court- you have such grace, and beauty. I- I am a mistake. A lop-sided foreign exile with no title gone half mad. I don’t know what I thought I was doing, but, really, I am sorry. If you would forgive me, I could withdraw and not derail your duties any longer.”

The expression in her eyes was terrible. She took a step toward him, haltingly. Her fists clenched and when she spoke her voice was low and shaking. “Were I a more violent woman, or perhaps a man, I would strike you right now, Shiro.”

Shiro’s mouth dropped open, her words hitting him sharply. “Allura, I apologi-”

“No!” Her finger flew out toward him. “I am going to speak my mind now.” She tossed her tiara onto her bed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she began pacing before him. “I also had time to think, this month. I spent so much time on the road, traveling through village after village.” She sighed sharply. “Tedious as the survey of lands is, it always serves as a palpable reminder of my duties. I do not strive to be a good queen only for the sake of my father’s memory. The people depend on me, and I on them. And I owe a great deal to the people of my court- without their support, my transition to the throne, in the middle of this war, would surely have been a disaster. I have many reasons to put stock in their opinions. And they have many reasons to distrust you, Shiro.”

She stopped pacing to look over at him. He frowned, but nodded. “I know,” he said, shifting his residual limb a bit uncomfortably under her eye.

When Allura spoke again her voice was softer, no longer rough with anger, but her expression was still sharp. “Many things changed with my father’s passing. Had he lived, I might have stayed under his tutelage for years before receiving the crown. Or perhaps by now I would be married, lady of the house of some far off prince. Maybe even have a child.” A dry smile, almost a sneer, spread over her face. “Could you imagine it? Me, pregnant?” The word was strange coming from her mouth; Shiro didn’t quite know what to make of it. Allura shook her head, looking at him again with a knit brow. “But the present is what it is. I am the Queen. I know my duties, and my debt to my people. But they are afraid, insecure. And as many reasons as they have to distrust you, I have twice as many not to-” In a few quick steps she crossed the floor, reaching for his hand with shining eyes. “I will never be held hostage by the opinions of the court. If you truly believe that kissing me was a mistake, I will never breathe another word of it. But if you are just afraid for me, listen when I say that I have learned the hard way that the things worth fighting for, worth the risks, should never be allowed to slip away so easily.” She was gripping his hand tightly, lips curled into a smile even as overwhelmed tears began to well in her eyes. “I’m sorry, that is all I had to say, please don’t think me mad-”

“Allura,” Shiro almost choked, his throat suddenly becoming raw. His blood was pounding in his veins. He felt lightheaded. Her courage seemed to immobilize him, striking him in the chest so he couldn’t form the words that were whirling around in his head. Instead, all he could do was return the pressure in her hand and lean forward and kiss her.

She made a noise in the back of her throat, and Shiro felt something wet on his cheek. Their hands stayed entwined between the chests, both only able to focus on the feeling of their lips meeting, free for the first time from doubt and fear. For a moment, all else was forgotten.

But, eventually, Allura pulled away from him. He chased her lips for another kiss, deep and slow, and then contented himself with running his hand through the hair that tumbled down her shoulders.

Allura’s eyes searched his, her expression settling into something more solemn. “I cannot promise you much, Shiro,” she murmured, “I will not marry until the war is won, at least. And, for both our sakes, it might be prudent to be discrete, at least in the beginning. I say this as a matter of practicality, I wouldn’t want to offend you-”

“You could never,” Shiro grinned. “I understand what we both have to give.” He brushed his fingers along the edge of her jaw, sighing. “I should go, I never meant to keep you this late.”

“Well, it was for good reason.” Allura smiled, resting her hand on his chest for a moment. “I will see you tomorrow, then?”

“Of course.” Shiro took her hand in his and bent to kiss her knuckles before turning to stride toward the door.

“And, Shiro-” Allura’s voice floated from across the room. When he looked back at her, the corner of her lip was curled into a cheeky smile. “The beard becomes you.”

Shiro’s face flushed a deep red. He smiled, touching his hand to his chest with a short bow. “Rest well, Allura.”

As the door shut behind him, Shiro was glad there was no one in the hallway to see the pleased smile he couldn’t wipe from his face.

#shiro #allura #shallura #shallura fic #finally got around to updating! its been a slow process #shiro fic #allura fic #writing #woman king #voltron #voltron fic

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takadasaiko · 7 years ago

Text

Demons at the Door: Chapter Eight

FFN II AO3

Summary: Nez and Solomon weigh evidence, Whitehall brings concerns to Howard, and the Keens get an unexpected visitor at their home late at night.

Chapter Eight: Guilty Secrets

Nez Rowan had seen many things over the course of her life, and while it had left her with a healthy level of distrust in many people, she had never been able to shake wanting to trust those closest to her.

She met Zeke a month into life as a civilian, an injury sidelining her and she'd taken the medical discharge. The painkillers were her entry in, and at first she took them for the physical pain. They quickly doubled for the emotional pain, but they didn't last forever. She'd told Tom once that the doctors never found the right treatments when she went to them, and that's why she'd tried everything else just in case. Everything had been a little bit of an exaggeration, but when she found herself awake for days on end, nightmares chasing even the thoughts of sleep away and the VA shrinks having no luck to help her, the meds Zeke offered felt like a saving grace.

She wasn't the first service member he'd met that had similar demons to the ones that Nez fought. Somehow he'd managed to become her friend as well as her supplier, listening to the stories and letting her talk through thoughts that didn't always make sense. He never once judged her, never once told her she was weak. It was that friendship that he'd proven when he let go of one of his best customers. He wouldn't chase her down, but he'd be there if and when she needed the relief again.

Nez met Howard eight months after her discharge. He had seen her potential and had taken her in. Detox had been hell, but he'd sat by her bedside and his was the first face she had seen. He'd supported her and he'd believed in her. He'd gotten her clean, and no matter what Mattie said, she wasn't sure it was a debt she could repay, much less already had.

That's why she hoped she was wrong. For her sake. For Tom's. For Dumont's. For Howard's. She wanted to be wrong.

She was meeting him at a new location, but at least Solomon was waiting on her when she arrived this time. "I could use some good news today," she told him as she stepped into the back alley.

Her former partner tilted his head. "I suppose that depends on what you're looking for. One thing's for certain. Those two did not get enough couple's counseling."

Nez snorted a laugh and took the file from him and flipped through it as he spoke. "I've spent the last several days following up on leads. Mostly scientists and engineers linked to the prototype, though I came across a banker that was particularly chatty."

"These funds began transferring before Scottie fully took over Halcyon," Nez murmured.

Solomon hummed a soft affirmative. "At some point in there it looks like they were battling for this black budget," he said and Nez looked up to see his expression turn irritable. "It gets muddled. I can't tell you exactly where one begins and the other one ends, but I can tell you that this fight for control over Whitehall was going on long before we were involved."

She didn't like the evidence she was seeing. Solomon had always been thorough, and he had been with the information he had. "Scottie did try to have him pushed out."

"And there's a line item for maintenance done on his plane right before it went down. I did a lot of digging on that one. I couldn't link it to someone specific, but I was able to clear Howard of it."

"Is it possible we have a third party in play?"

Solomon shrugged. "Someone pulling the strings and hoping the Hargraves will go to battle and end each other? Possibly. Your new partner would have motive in that."

Nez shook her head. "No, it's not Tom."

"You sweet on him, Nez?" Solomon teased and she rolled her eyes.

"Listen, I know you don't like him, don't trust him, and with what went down between you no one can blame you, but Tom's just trying to find the truth."

"You trust him," Solomon murmured, the reality seeming to press on him.

"I do. And I need you to trust me on that."

He nodded slowly. "If it's not Keen, then he'd be a third party's next target."

"We've kept it pretty quiet about who he is. Even the Board doesn't know."

"Smart." His dark gaze shifted to catch hers. "This is all circumstantial, Nez. All we might be able to take from it is that the Hargraves are a seriously messed up family."

"And we thought we came from complicated backgrounds," Nez chuckled.

"Mmm. I need Whitehall."

"No."

"Do you want definitive answers or not?"

She shot him a long suffering look. "He's under heavy guard. Heavier once Howard catches wind that his engineers are turning up missing." She closed her eyes, searching for a better alternative. "I can get you Pendergast."

"The PI?"

"Yeah. Tom said he was one of the few people that knew Howard was alive after his plane went down."

"He's loyal then," Solomon said thoughtfully, but then shrugged. "Everyone has a breaking point."

Nez shook her head, Solomon's expression reminding her of a child about to get a new toy. One that he would likely rip apart and leave in pieces by the end of it.

"You told Keen I'm your source yet?"

"No."

"Better do that soon. My guess is that Hargrave Jr hates being kept in the dark after everything."

"None of us are fans of it," Nez murmured, knowing that he was right. The longer she went without telling him, the more of a hypocrite she was for asking for his trust.

"But first," Solomon said, pulling her out of her thoughts, "Pendergast."

"He's missing."

Howard looked up from the papers he was looking through to find Richard Whitehall standing at his office door. It was late. His secretary had gone home for the evening and the few people that might have seen him wouldn't have thought anything about it, but he didn't like being ambushed in his own office without warning. He set the file down, his sharp eyes meeting the other man's. "You'll need to be a little more specific than that."

"Banning," the scientist said sharply, stepping in and closing the door behind him. "I've been trying to get ahold of him for days. I finally went to the facility-"

"We've talked about you going there without me," Howard said.

"No one's seen him in days. Several of his people are gone too."

"Why is this the first I'm hearing about it?"

"You'll have to ask them," the other man huffed, taking a seat on the other side of Howard's desk. "They were spooked when I went. Afraid of something."

"If someone is kidnapping engineers they have every right to be. My wife has… people that could still be troublesome. If she was able to tell them the location..."

"You think she still has someone on the inside?"

"I think it's certainly possible."

Whitehall sat back in the chair. "That boy of yours. How sure are you he's still on your side?"

Howard bristled at the insinuation. "I'm not worried about Tom."

"You should be. He's a loose end with the situation with your wife."

"He's my son."

"That's been gone for years. I've known you for a long time, Howard. I know how desperate you were to find him. Desperate enough to be blind to the fact that Scottie's little blonde secretary went to him with evidence that could link you to your dead spy. He links that, how far do you think he'll need to jump to know that you and me are working together, huh? That Scottie didn't fund the prototype. You did."

"She would have."

"But she didn't, and that's all that'll matter to your long lost boy, and when he starts on that we're all screwed." He leaned forward. "You and I both know what my inventions can do, Howard. The good they can do, but only once they've been fully realized."

"And they will be," Howard said calmingly. "I'll find out missing engineers, and you'll see Tom had nothing to do with it."

"And if he did? It took Scottie downing your plane before you accepted she was a real threat."

"I'll handle whatever I find. You…" He pulled in a deep breath. "You need to lay low. Do not go back to the lab and don't come back here. I'll contact you."

The older man didn't look happy, but he didn't have a lot of room to argue. Howard funded his research, his lab, and the engineering of his designs. Who he suspected to be behind what could be a very subtle attack didn't really matter. Howard would get to the bottom of it and deal with the threat in his own way.

"So, you may have been right," Liz said as she took a seat on her side of the bed.

Tom looked up from his laptop, an old pair of glasses perched on his nose for the first time in a long time and a curious look settling into his expression. "Yeah? What about?"

"Aram and Samar. They've been trying to keep it quiet around the Post Office, but they're seeing each other."

"Finally," her husband chuckled.

Liz pulled her still-damp hair back, tying it out of her way for the night. "I think everyone but them saw it." She pursed her lips together, thinking her next question through. "Would it be weird to go on a double date with them?"

Tom's dark blue gaze slid over to her, amusement barely contained there. "Why would that be weird?"

"I don't know… I guess it's just blurring the lines between work and home."

"Oh yeah. Those are really strong lines there," Tom teased. "With your partners and your boss as our daughter's godparents, your father as your CI-"

"Okay, you've made your point," she laughed, kicking at him a little under the sheets and he grinned.

"It sounds great, Liz. A little bit of normal. We can have them over or go out. It'd be nice."

She hummed a soft agreement as she reached over and closed his laptop lid, leaning over him to set it on the nightstand.

"What's going on here?" he asked, the corners of his lips curling upward as she took his glasses off his nose and put those aside as well.

"We're done with work for the night. Whatever it is can wait until morning."

His smile only grew. "Yes ma'am."

She leaned in to kiss him, finding no protest in the movement. He shifted down, slouching against the pillows so that she was nearly on top of him, but the moment was interrupted by a knock at the front door.

Both Keens froze, listening hard to make sure it had been their front door and not a neighbor's. "You expecting someone?" Tom asked, and when Liz shook her head he slipped out from under her, starting for the front door. She waited only half a beat before grabbing a robe and following.

She peeked around the doorframe of their room and towards the front door as Tom pulled it open. "Hey, what's up?" he greeted and shifted enough that Liz saw who their visitor was.

Donald Ressler looked awkward standing at their doorstep, every movement of his body language screaming how uncomfortable he was. "I, uh, you know, I shouldn't have come. It's late, you guys look like you were already in for the night. I didn't wake Agnes up, did I?"

"No, she'd sleep through a nuclear explosion these days. Don't know how long it'll last, but we're loving it while it does," Tom answered and he stepped back, giving Ressler space to enter.

He hesitated and Liz stepped forward. "It's fine, Ress. Come on in."

It took a moment, but Ressler finally stepped past Tom and into the apartment, and Liz couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. She hadn't seen that haunted look on him in a long time and as he passed her, going towards the couch she was motioning to, she kicked herself for not paying more attention. She knew giving up the evidence to link Hitchin to Reven Wright's murder was difficult for Ressler, but she should have been there for her partner through it. She knew him well enough that his first go-to wasn't to seek help. He was stubborn and he'd been through a lot recently.

He took a heavy seat and Liz heard Tom move around to the kitchen, sounding like he was putting a kettle on the stove for tea, close enough he was there if needed but not intruding on the conversation.

Liz took a slow, careful seat next to her partner. "What's up?"

Ressler drew in a sharp breath. "I…." he managed as he released it, but was up on his feet again in an instant. "I'm sorry, Keen. I can't. I shouldn't have-"

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, the movement gentle but firm, and she eased him back down. "You need to talk to someone, Ressler. That's… pretty obvious. I swear to you that whatever you say will not leave this apartment."

He nodded, the next breath he drew in much shakier than the first. "I've done… Liz…."

The way his voice broke when he said her name broke her heart. She swallowed hard. "Ress, of all the places you could come to not be judged, this is the one. I know what it feels like to… bend your morals to the point that it hurts."

"I killed her."

Liz blinked hard. "What?" she managed. That hadn't been what she expected.

"Hitchin. She's dead. I… Oh hell, Keen."

She wrapped her arms around him and her partner folded in, trembling and shaking and terrified like she'd never seen him before. "It's okay. We're…. we're going to make it okay," she swore, glancing up as Tom rounded back into the living room with two mugs of tea still steaming.

"Yours has a kick," he promised as Ressler straightened to look at it, pulling a mirthless laugh from him and a quiet thanks.

Liz had thought her husband might turn and head back to their room, leaving she and Ressler to a private conversation, but instead he cleared his throat, running his hand through his hair in a nervous movement he made when he was approaching a delicate subject. "How'd you take care of the body?"

"Tom!" Liz hissed, shooting a glare towards him and he held up his hands in defense.

"It's a valid question."

Ressler flinched just a little and took a long sip from the spiked tea Tom had given him. "I called someone. Henry Prescott. He was… Reddington introduced us when Prescott led us to Reven's body."

"Did you give him your name?"

It was Ressler's turn to shoot him a glare. "I'm not an idiot."

"Just making sure."

Liz had to bite back her irritation. Tom, in his own way, was watching out for Ressler as much as she was. He was being practical about the situation and making sure that a man that preferred to stay well within the law didn't have that same law crush him. He was handling that side of it, and it was up to Liz to try to navigate the emotional side. "Walk us through it, Ress," she said softly.

He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes closed and gripping the mug of tea tightly. After a long moment his eyes slid back open and his gaze was distant. "She…. Gave me my badge back. She said she wanted to make it clear what she expected in return for taking out the investigation into the Task Force. She grabbed me and I just… hell," he breathed. "I don't know if I hit her or jerking away made her lose her balance, but she fell. Hit her head. She was gone before I even knew what happened."

He was shaking again and Liz carefully took the mug from his hands before it fell. "Ress, look at me." She waited until he did and she held his gaze. "This is not your fault."

"I killed her, Keen."

"You didn't do it on purpose."

"I… I don't know. I hated her. She…. just looking at her I got so angry. Free and clear after everything she's done and that smug look like she knew it…."

"Hey," she said softly, reaching forward and touching his hand. "I know you, Ressler. You're a good man. You wanted her behind bars. This isn't your fault."

"I covered it up. I should-"

"Stop," she said, a bit more sharply than she meant to. "Do you remember a few years ago when I told you I was going to turn myself in for the harbormaster murder?" She did her best to focus on Ressler and not Tom who had taken a seat in one of the chairs a few feet away.

"Yeah," Ressler managed.

"I didn't kill the man, but I felt like I did because I covered it up. I was… responsible for the situation we were all in right then and…" She swallowed hard. "And you convinced me that the work we do, the lives we save in the Task Force-"

"This is different, Keen. This is no one's life but my own. If you went to jail, the Task Force would have been disbanded. If I go, you're just a man down."

"That's crap and you know it," Liz growled. "You're my partner. You're an important member of our team. You're family, and if Laurel Hitchin's body rots in some flower bed so you don't have to rot in jail, that's more than a fair trade."

Ressler sat still on the couch for a long moment, staring at her. He glanced over to Tom who offered him a shrug. "Hitchin tried to have Liz assassinated. I say let her rot."

Liz's partner loosed a breath, a shaky chuckle escaping on it. "I should have known better than to come to the Keen household and expect you guys to tell me I did the wrong thing."

"You're my partner, Ress. I'm going to have your back. No matter what. And you will get through this. I'll be with you every step of the way. Any time."

His smile was strained but real. "Thanks, Keen."

Notes: I've been chattering over on Tumblr with several people over how it'd be great to see Ressler reach out to someone about this, so I really wanted to work it in somewhere, and I'm actually rather pleased with the way it panned out in the end. I just want to wrap Ress in a blanket and protect him after that finale, but at least his partner can do it for me. And I'm pretty sure Tom was ready to go bury a body if needbe lol

Please feel free to leave your thoughts! Reviews really do help me write :D

Next time - Nez and Solomon uncover bad news all around, Reddington makes contingency plans, and Tom confronts his father.

#the blacklist #the blacklist: redemption #Demons at the Door #Tom Keen #Elizabeth Keen #Nez Rowan #Matias Solomon #Howard Hargrave #Richard Whitehall #Donald Ressler #fanfiction

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