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roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

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meet me in the gardens

knight!natasha x noble!fem!reader

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say not to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected yoru knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either.

warnings: actually none but a misunderstanding and the lack of editing that i think u guys may or may not be used to at this point

word count: 5.3k

part two!!

The knight before you was the opposite of a man. She was so opposite in fact, that you had to actively make yourself not appear like you were shocked. You knew that the twins were having to try even harder to keep composure.

She was without a doubt, one of the prettiest people you had ever seen before. Being a lady, you had seen so many handsome young men and gorgeous young women, but there wasn’t one who’s fairness struck you like this woman’s. Her eyes were an unfamiliar shade of blue, and you knew that they were the kind of eyes that were made for surveillance and observation, and if you looked hard enough, maybe a window to her thoughts. She had pink lips that were set into a genuine yet thin smile, almost like she wasn’t used to wordless pleasantries at all. Her hair was cropped just above her shoulders and it shined a brilliant red that you had rarely ever seen. Despite the powerful and extremely potent energy that she was giving off, she was short, shorter than you, but something told you that she was strong. Stronger than anyone knew quite yet, but you could feel it. But, you were still confused, regardless of how she had rendered you breathless for the quickest of seconds.

The problem wasn’t that she was a woman. There wasn’t even really a problem at all. It was just the fact that a woman was a knight. You had never seen anything like it in your entire life, and you had never even thought of the possibility of that happening. At all. You had to fight tooth and nail to keep property that you hardly even wanted, all because you were a woman. Because you weren’t pregnant with a son who could carry his hypothetical father’s name. Because you were a woman without the heir to your late husband’s fortunes, you were seen as nothing, for a long time. And now, there were women who were becoming knights?

You were more impressed than confused.

You felt another pinch from Pietro, this time a little harder. You breathed in through your nose, a welcoming smile on your face as you grappled for words.

“Hello,” you said, public voice still working hard as you internally scrambled for words. You were looking the red headed woman right in her eyes, the eyes that were so intense that if you hadn’t been in rooms where extreme business had gone down, you would have melted. You tried to remember the standard greeting. “Welcome to my keep. I hope that I can accommodate you during your stay, and that you are successful in your search for what it is that you are looking for.” You knew the words were off by a bit, but you saw the coachman nod in approval that you didn’t really care to have.

The knight took a step forward, and the sound of a heavy footstep crashing against your well-kept grass made you shiver. The trampled grass had nothing on the way that you reacted to hearing her voice. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Mirellis. I sincerely thank you for allowing me into your home.”

It was hardly your home, and you could tell that the two of you had already gotten off on the wrong foot. You knew it was because of your shameless staring. “May I be graced with knowing your name?”

If possible, she stood up a little straighter. “I am Natasha Romanoff, My Lady.”

If you were hearing correctly, you heard the slight awkwardness in her last two words. Only people with titles of their own called other lords and ladies “my lady”, and lower born people were to call them “milady”. She must have been lowborn, just like you. “It is my deepest pleasure to meet you, Natasha. May I show you around my keep?”

“Typically,” the coachman cut in, and you furrowed your brows at the way he interrupted the stop-and-start flow of the conversation. “It isn’t the lord—sorry—lady of the house’s job to do that.”

Wanda opened her mouth, highly defensive of you and ready to go because it was a fight she could afford to pick. A servant and a coachman were on the same level. She would face no punishment for talking back to the man. However, you reached to your right and squeezed her hand twice.

“Well, I am the lady of the house, and I would like to show my new guest her accommodations.” The man narrowed his eyes slightly at you, and it became obvious to everyone that he clearly wasn’t expecting back talk from you.

You knew that everyone thought widows were these gentle, sad women. The type that cried themselves to sleep and wished to meet their husbands again in the afterlife. The type that listened at anything that a man uttered simply because he was a man, or because they didn’t have the energy to entertain an arguement or to correct them. Especially ladies. But you were not supposed to be a lady. You wore fancy dresses and had gold and had a small castle to yourself, but part of you would always be that girl who beat up the boys who lived a few acres away for talking about your hair and then rolled in mud with them, laughing about it the very next day.

Even through the glances that were thrown between the five of you standing there, you continued. “My staff has worked so hard on making sure it was nice for her. I’d like to show off their diligence now.” It wasn’t a question.

“Do as you please, milady.”

You resisted the urge to nod smugly. “Thank you.” You watched him climb back onto his chair and quirked a brow. The coachman always stayed for dinner. It was considered offensive if they did not, both to the knight and to the lord or lady. “Did you not want to stay for the meal, good sir?”

“I must get back, milady. If that is alright with you.”

You knew you should utter something lengthy that you didn’t mean at all, but the most you could get out after his blatant rudeness was a quick “safe travels.” There was a long stretch of awkward silence as you watched him leave, arms hanging at your sides as the trotting sound of horses carried him away.

“Goodness, was he rude.”

“Pietro.” Wanda hissed, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You whirled around to look at the knight— Natasha— and saw that she was already looking at you with blatant curiosity.

“Would it be alright with you if I took you around myself?” You asked, and she nodded her head. “Well, I’m sure you’re hungry. Would you like to eat first?”

You were beginning to realize very quickly that the woman was the staring type. Her eyes, no, her entire face and persona was so demanding and intense. It was hard to even be provoked by her shameless staring and possible judgement, because at least she was open with it. The more you looked at her, though, the more you knew that you would never understand what was happening behind her eyes. “I would like to see.”

“Then you will see,” you stated, and gave Wanda a look. She knew immediately what it meant, and she walked off to tell the chefs to expect you in an hour or so. “We can start with the outside area and make our way in.”

She was very much the staring type. Not even just at faces or people in general, but with everything. You noticed that when anything caught her eye, she looked at it for a few seconds in silence and then moved on, like she heard them speak something unknown to everyone else and took the time to listen.

“These are the training grounds,” you said after walking to the back half of the castle, where the grass was still trained to grow with strength and hardly a thing was out of place. The training grounds were for young squires in the area or kids that just wanted to play fight. You had made the area yourself, and it was one of your favorite parts of your home. You liked being able to look outside and see children playing freely, and the sound of laughter was something that everyone needed in life. “You’re free to use them in any way you see fit, of course.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“You’ll run into aspiring knights here and there, but they are good children.” Your voice was fond as you spoke of them, and then took a right. “And just down here, we have the gardens.”

And gardens, they were. They were the only thing in the castle that was actually yours while your husband was alive. When you had arrived, the patch of land was so disgraced that it would have been insulting to call it a garden. The flowers were droopy, the soil was dry, and the vibrant colors that were once there had been sucked away. Your husband didn’t care about the area, and neither did anyone else, so you adopted it. You had built it from the ground up and made it into what it was; a huge and gorgeous garden full of colors, with ivy hanging from rails in what looked like an unruly manner and bushes full of roses and begonias and everything in between. It was caged off by golden rails, but the rails were hardly binding. They were so wrapped with leaves that it looked like they grew with the garden.

“This is my favorite part of the keep,” you stated softly, walking down it. You had expanded it so that it went down and into the forest, the rails forming a path. You walked down it every so often yourself, deep into the woods where no one would bother you, where you could look at the stars above in peace.

“Is it yours?”

“What?” You asked, tearing your eyes from a particular bush to see her looking up at the ivy.

“This garden,” she said, and you realized that you were strolling closer and closer to the woods. You stopped walking, but didn’t make any move to go and meet her. “Do you tend to it?”

“It’s mine,” you answered, not even bothering to take the subtle pride out of your voice. “It’s my project. I started it when I got here, and now it’s flourishing.”

“Where did you learn how to garden?”

It was no secret that typically, ladies did not get their hands dirty, even if the activity was simple planting. They were supposed to stay inside and knit or something like that. Ladies could go outside to look at gardens, but they had staff to plant for them. So, did Natasha not know that you weren’t born with a title? “When I was a girl,” you answered vaguely.

“Your Lord Father allowed you?”

My father was no lord. “Yours allowed you to wield a sword?” The sound of armor clanking brought you out of your slight hostility, and you sighed. “I apologize.”

“It’s quite alright.” The harshness in her voice told you that she was offended by what you said, and she turned around once she realized that the two of you were nearing the tree line.

You walked around with Natasha, giving her the rest of the tour halfheartedly and only speaking when absolutely necessary. It was clear that the two of you clearly weren’t clicking as well as you hoped to, and while that was tragic, you weren’t going to kiss anyone’s feet to get in their good graces.

“I’m sure you’re hungry by now.” The second you stepped on the wood floors of the inside of your keep, the warmth hit you. Your shoes clicked on the material as you walked ahead of her, not looking back or waiting for an answer. “I’ll show you the kitchens, and then the dining hall.”

The dining hall was known for its size. It was huge, and the ceiling was high. Everything that was said echoed, and the lighting provided by strategically placed candles made the hall have an elegant, almost eerie feeling to it. The staff was already bustling around, plating food and pouring wine. Wanda and Pietro were already there, their harsh and bickering whispers hitting your ears until they heard you approaching.

“Oh, please, sit.” Wanda did so immediately, and Pietro walked around the table to pull out your chair, which sat at the head of it.

You cringed when Pietro sat down. He had been dethroned from his seat at your left hand, because it was courteous of you to give up that seat for your new night. That was one tradition that you wouldn’t break, simply because it would be seen as disrespectful. “You can sit right there, Lady Natasha.” You saw her lip twitch.

In all honesty, you had no idea what to call her formally. You two certainly weren’t close enough to address each other by first name, and you doubted she even knew it. But she wasn’t a man, and male knights were called “Sir”. She wasn’t a “Sir”. You didn’t want to offend her further by calling her it.

The first half of the dinner was in awkward silence. Wanda kept giving you glances, and you frowned at the way she was looking at you- like you had clearly messed something up. You sighed through your nose when you heard Pietro clear his throat, a sound that meant that he was about to run his mouth.

“So, my lady knight, what do you think of the castle?”

The red head didn't even realize she was being addressed until she looked up and saw you and everyone else looking at her expectantly. “It’s very nice.” You waited a bit, listening to hear whatever empty compliments that she would give for the sake of being polite. Ten seconds passed, and there was nothing.

You chuckled. “Thank you,” you answered just as shortly, holding back the urge to laugh much louder than was appropriate.

“So, where are you from?”

“The slums.” You nod in acknowledgment, and guilt. Sometimes you repressed the images of people living from coin to coin. But silly you, silly everyone. For there to have been people on the top, there had to be people at the bottom. And those who lived at the bottom lived in what were called “the slums”. “I don’t know if you would know anything about that, My Lady.”

Wanda made a noise that told you that the bold knight’s words were clearly meant to wound you, and Pietro’s brows shot upwards so quickly that you barely saw the movement happen. You stared at your plate, jaw dropped open in surprise and mortification.

You were fuming on the inside. How the hell would she know who you were? What you dealt with? How your husband was as cruel as he was disgusting? How you grew up a poor farmer’s daughter? She didn’t know, and that was what kept you grounded. How could she have known?

Before you could get in your right mind to utter a threat that you were sure that your late husband had said in your presence at least once, you nodded your head and took it in stride. You stood up from the table and didn’t look at her or the confused look she shot you after looking at your painfully unfinished plate.

“Wanda will show you to your chambers, Lady Natasha. I hope you enjoy your first dinner of many here at my castle, and I hope that tonight begins your yearlong journey to wisdom.” And with that, you turned on your heels after taking your plate shamelessly, heels clacking against the polished floor once again, silence filling the hall until long after you left.

§§

By the third day Natasha was there and the second that you had been blatantly avoiding her, you were starting to feel bad for fueling the fire between you two. She was to stay under your roof and do what she had to for a full year, and you antagonized her. You gave the sacred act of showing a knight to their room to someone else, and you understood Natasha’s lack of speech towards you to be a consequence of that.

But that was fine. You certainly didn’t need for the girl to like you. It would have made things much easier and smoother, but it wasn’t a necessity. Your job was to give her food, water, shelter, and time to find herself and her purpose as a knight. Nothing said that the two of you had to be as thick as thieves.

But that also didn’t mean that you would actively pass on befriending her. You decided after a long time of sitting at the polished wooden desk that had become yours that you would be her friend should fate allow it, and if not, there was no harm to it. But you weren’t going to chase her, no matter how wonderfully her bright hair would work as an object to follow.

A soft calling of your name happened seconds before Wanda opened the door. You greeted her informally and grinned at her, until you saw the look on her face and the sealed paper in her hand. Immediately, your joyful expression left and you sighed.

“Who is it this time?” Wanda shut the door behind her after your question, and you gave her a look. “It can’t be Lord Rumlow again.”

Brock Rumlow was not a good man. No man who had power was a good man, but he was one of the worst. He had gone through two wives in the past three years, and the second one was found with stab wounds in the forest. How he had gotten out of being tried for her murder was beyond you, and it made you sick to your stomach every time you thought about it. Now, he set his sights on you, a widow sitting on plenty of money and land. He had been sending you letters, flowers, gold, dresses, anything that a narcissistic man would think that another human being would like simply because the things were tangible. And the letters always said the same old thing; to marry him. And he wasn’t ever really asking.

“It’s him,” Wanda confirmed, her tone telling you that she felt the same way you did towards the vile man.

“I want to burn it,” you said, and immediately, Wanda crossed the room to put the note in the fire, waiting for your final say. “Let me read what this imbecile has asked for now. I wonder what beautiful horse or jewel he’ll offer for my hand, this time.”

You took the letter from Wanda gently and gave her a small smile, and she urged you to open it, just as nervous to see what was inside as you were. You stared at his seal for a few seconds, eyeing the red wax with a three headed serpent engraved with disdain before tearing it right open. You did the rest without ceremony, your eyes narrowed as you found the messy and unbothered handwriting that you would recognize from anywhere.

Lady of Riverstone,

I take it that my other letters may have been lost to the wind. I apologize for not reaching you earlier. But, if you have been getting my letters, then my main offer stands the same. I would be honored for you to take my name and stand under my veil, and for you to become my wife. Marriage to me would give you a great deal of benefits, and I have listed them down below. I would like an answer within two fortnights, and if I don’t get one, I’ll send another letter.

It was all more of the same, more of the same offers and then a little more, vague threats, and monotonous language that he hardly knew how to use correctly. You read with a neutral expression, even though Wanda was shocked reading all of the things he was offering. He signed it off like he did every other letter.

Lord Rumlow, of Serpent’s Keep.

“He offered you two tons of gold to send your father?”

“Do you notice how he’s never called me Lady Mirellis?” You asked, sipping the chalice of water that constantly sat at your desk, and got refilled whenever someone walked by and saw it nearing empty. “Or by my name?”

“I have.”

“It’s always ‘Lady of Riverstone’,” you sighed, shaking your head. “If he wants the land, he should just go on and say that. It’s much more respectable for him to be honest with me. Maybe I would have said yes already.”

Wanda made a face. “You’re lying, now.”

“Well, of course I am. I've never seen him, and all he wants is a woman to beat around. I’m not that woman, no woman is. Do you think I want to find myself dead within a half year of being wed?” There was a sharp knock on your door.

“He wouldn’t kill you. He wouldn’t gain these assets after your death,” Wanda said softly, understanding that you were about to finish the conversation. “He must be truly desperate to pay ou two tons of gold. That could help nearly anyone out of a pickle, and it would certainly pay off some things back at the farm.”

You knew that. But the truth was… you held a certain amount of irrational and rational disdain for your family. You knew that some of it was warranted just off of the way humans worked in general, but others weren’t. You knew for a fact that a part of you would always be bitter about the way that no one fought hard enough for you not to be taken from your home. You knew that a part of you would be bitter because they took the money that your late husband had offered them, like you were the fattest, most desirable pig in the pen. And there would forever, and ever, be a part of you—if not all of you— that would be angry about your wedding night.

Half of your family showed. The other half came, took you to a back room, and cried. They cried on your night of terror, and you comforted them. It was the one time where you truly needed your mother and her maternal instincts, the one time you needed your brother to teach you some moves that could hurt a man if you needed them. And they either weren’t where you needed them, or weren’t what you needed them. Both truths hurt the same.

“My family doesn’t need money,” you settled on saying, swallowing the burning that came with thinking about the people you shared blood with. “If they needed it, they would ask.”

“Your father is a proud man, he wouldn’t set that pride aside. Especially not to ask one of his own daughters for money.”

“Well, let that be their problem,” you said, although your harsh words weren’t as impactful because of the tremor in them. “I won’t marry Lord Rumlow.”

Wanda leaned forward a bit, and she took both of your hands in hers as the knocking grew louder. She looked you in the eyes, just the way one true friend looked at another. With the same ferocity in her voice as the time when she assured you that no one was going to force you to give up your rights to ladyship, her next words were no louder than a whisper. “And no one will make you.”

Your eyes almost grew watery as you held her hands, feeling the purity of the bond you shared with her surging. “Thank you.” You looked towards the door and let her hands go, uttering a soft command.

Pietro stood there with his arms crossed and a flushed look on his face. He cocked his head to the side at the sight of you and Wanda hovering over a broken open letter, and took a few steps forward. It was upside down, so you turned it his way so that he could read it easier, and the second he recognized the handwriting, he groaned.

“I think I can assume what this is,” he rolled his eyes, and he picked it up and walked over to the fire. When you’d said nothing, he tossed it in and the three of you watched it burn. “I came to tell you that our little knight is strange.”

“How so?”

“Well, she's writing.”

You furrowed your brows. “Writing?” You repeated, remembering her saying that she grew up poor. Most commoners had no idea how to read or write. You only learned because you had to learn when you married a lord. And even if knights had the ability to read and write, they hardly did. Words had very little value to a man who could wield a sword.

But Natasha Romanoff was no man.

“What on earth would she be writing about?” Wanda asked, leaning against the desk. “I wonder if she’s required to write a review on her treatment.”

Pietro gave a short but genuine laugh. “She’s probably writing down terrible things about you to give to the king after she returns home,” he joked, and Wanda cracked a smile, but you couldn’t find it in you to laugh.

“I couldn’t care less about a review of my hospitality or lack therefore of,” you drawled.

Wanda rolled her eyes. “Yes, you do, because you’re a kind person.”

“But she is not.” You felt bad for saying the words that you said not even seconds after.

“We don’t know that,” Wanda reasoned softly. “Actually, I happen to know that she’s quite nice. And she’s level headed and very smart, from what I can see. She’s no man with a little praise under his belt, that’s for sure.”

“So, she’s not boastful.” You said. “That’s good. But I don’t see her and I sharing more interactions than what we need to.”

“With all due respect, Lady Y/N,” Pietro said, leaning forward with that characteristic smirk of his plastered over his face. “You are very dramatic. You always have been.”

You could hardly even pretend to be offended. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Wanda said quietly, though not fearfully at all. “You are always dramatic, and then things work out.”

Wanda was right. She very much was, actually. Things like the river nearly drying up and crops rotting too quickly and other things that were completely out of your hands terrified you. The things that you couldn’t control made you irrational and erratic, and that was probably your worst fault. You did the same with things you could change, only with worrying. Something as simple as an apology could fix something, but you would sit on giving the apology for hours, sometimes even days.

That night, when it seemed like everyone else was fast asleep and dreaming sweet little images, you put on slippers and walked right outsides, your guards not even asking you where you were going. You walked right out of the side doors and into the garden, humming quietly to yourself as you walked through the entrance of it with your pails of water.

It was quiet besides the noise of bugs chirping, and the occasional flap of wings from birds above. Even your humming had tapered off, and it felt like you could have been able to hear things from miles away. You smiled in the crisp air as you bent over to water a rose bush, a soft affirmation towards the red flowers when you saw how pretty they looked in the moonlight. When you stood back up and turned your head around, you gasped in fright and tumbled towards the ground.

“Shit,” a hand caught your arm and the other was on your shoulder as your chest heaved, adrenaline rushing from being so frightened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you saw me.” It took you a second to see the face of the woman speaking in the moonlight, but when you saw it was the knight, you sighed.

You were set back on two feet, and then Natasha took a step backwards. “Why are you out here?”

She shrugged. “It’s pretty.” There was a stretch of silence as you waited for her to say something, anything else. “It’s safe.”

A part of you was angered by that statement. Yes, the gardens were safe. Of course they were, they were your safety! They were your place that you went to when you felt like nothing was in your control, like your own decisions weren’t yours. Nothing could hurt you in the gardens, and plants couldn’t talk. They held every secret that you could ever tell, they held every tear that you never shed in front of another, and they saw every emotion that you were too stoic to show in front of others. They were the one place that you could get peace. And now the knight has ruined it.

But on the other hand, you were proud of yourself for creating something that someone else can admire. You created something that someone else could be free in, and in a way, that was amazing. And that hand was outweighing the other.

So, you said, “I’m glad it feels that way.” You cleared your throat softly when you realized that you were speaking to her the way you spoke to the twins. “I created it as my own safe space, so I’m glad someone else thinks of it that way, too.”

There was a short yet heavy silence between you and Natasha, and then you saw her turn to face you, her eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. “I know you’re not very excited to have me here, but I’m here. So we can at least try to be cordial.”

“Is that not what we’re being?” You asked, not even taking your eyes off of the moon. “I thought we were even being a little friendly.”

“It would be nice if it lasted.” Natasha muttered, and you nodded your head.

“I don’t know if I offended you with the question about whether or not your father approved your knighthood,” you said, sighing. “I assume that I did. And if you carry around that offense, then I apologize. I don’t like talking about my own father, but you couldn’t have known that.”

“You do not need to be forgiven,” she states. “I apologize, as well.”

“And it’s not that I don’t want you here,” you started, already cursing yourself for going into what she had said not even a full minute earlier. You were tense as she waited for you to continue, but you just shrugged and sighed. “Just know that that’s not it.” Something reached toward you out of the corner of your eye, and you finally turned your head to look at her.

She was… she was nothing short of gorgeous. You were taller than her, so you looked down at her just a little bit. Her red hair looked more brown than anything, and her blue eyes were pale and still as beautiful as they were during the day. There was the smallest hint of a smile on her face, nervous almost, as you looked down at the arm that was reached out your way. The moon was shedding you both its white light, and it primarily rested right where her arm was extended, her palm lord and turned to the side.

She wanted to shake hands with you. Shaking hands was seen as archaic, and knights certainly didn’t touch ladies unless they were assisting them. But, you knew by now that Natasha was not the typical knight. One of her fingers twitched, and you realized that she was just waiting there, her hand hanging in the air, like a gavel ready to drop at any moment. And quickly, almost enough to make the other woman startle, you took her right hand in your own and shook it twice, keeping your eyes right on hers.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

******

hiiii guys! still establishing things here with this chapter, but when things kick off, they are going full speed. i already love this fic, and i can’t wait to put all my ideas down for it as the finished product! i hope you guys liked it, and if you did, please show her some love! i have a little taglist building up, so here it goes!

@normanijauregui @fayhar @8plasma @procrastinatingsapphictrash

@slut-for-nat @dontmindmejustreading @swords-are-cool

@200605chaeng @thescottishavenger @antidaytime @jenny-song @madamevirgo @natasha-danvers @drdarcy-lewis @blackxwidowsxwife

#natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x female reader #natasha romanoff series #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff angst #marvel fanfic #knight!natasha #lgbtq #gay!natasha #marvel au #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x fem reader

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wrenhyperfixates · 5 years ago

Text

Movie Night

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki prefers to keep to himself but one particularly persistent Avenger may be able to change his mind. Warnings: none, just fluff A/N: This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, and, even though the concept is kinda basic, I’m really proud of it. Thank you for reading :) P.S. I apologize for being really bad at coming up with titles.

You stood at the door of the library, trying to figure out a strategy. Loki was sitting in the loveseat by the window with his back turned to you, absorbed in his book. You knew he’d stay there for the rest of the evening if you let him. It had been nearly a year since he joined the team, but, despite your best efforts, Loki ran off to the library every chance he got. Not that you had a problem with reading or anything. You loved to read too—it’s what made you two close in the first place. The problem was why he was there so often.

By now most of the team had warmed up to him. Well maybe that wasn’t quite right. Plenty of your fellow Avengers were still wary of him, but at least Clint was the only one who still sent him death glares. And even he was coming around. Still, Loki felt unwelcome in any of the common areas in the Tower. And it sure didn’t help that the rest of the world couldn’t forget his past actions. No matter how hard Loki had tried to prove himself when he first came to live there, no one would let go of what happened in New York. You could almost understand the not forgetting, but no one could find it in their heart to forgive him? Really?

You thought it was really a shame that the world still saw him as a monster, especially when he was so good looking. If only they could see what you saw right now. His beautiful raven locks fell over the back of his seat. The setting sun illuminated his pale hands as they flipped the pages in his book. And, though you couldn’t see his eyes at the moment, you could picture them in your mind. Oh, those beautiful, shining, blue-green eyes. You could imagine them moving quickly across the page, devouring whatever tale the book held.

“You’ve been staring for an awfully long time, darling” Loki said, snapping you out of your reverie.

You don’t know how he always managed that. No matter how silent you were or if he was looking in your direction or not, he always knew you were there. You guessed it was just a skill he was born with. Or perhaps, you thought, it was a result of living in a place where you felt everyone wanted you dead. “Sorry,” you said, sitting next to him. “I guess I was just lost in thought.”

He glanced up from his book for a split second to offer you the quickest of grins. “And what, my dear, were you thinking about?”

You simultaneously loved and hated his pet names for you. After you two had become friends he started peppering his sentences with ‘darlings’ and ‘dears’. The problem was, you never knew what to make of them. You supposed it was just a sign of how close you two had become. But was it naïve to think that perhaps it was something more? Probably, but that didn’t mean you could stop that thought from popping up every now and then. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach whenever he was around, but most days it proved impossible.

“Just wondering if you would be joining the team for movie night,” you replied, trying (and failing) to keep an air of nonchalance.

You see him stiffen a little at that. You and Thor took turns trying to get him involved in group activities, but he always had a bit of a harder time saying no to you. You looked at him expectantly, despite knowing that he was probably going to decline, just like every other time. Well, not every other time. Once you got him to come out for ice cream. It didn’t go bad, per se, but the atmosphere was kind of tense. That was months ago, though, and you hoped he’d be up to try again.

Finally, he gave his answer. “Perhaps another time.” You frowned a little at that, but before you could insist he continued, “I don’t really think they would want me there.”

“Of course they do,” you quickly countered. “Thor will be there and you know he loves spending time with you. And Peter adores you. And you’ve kind of been getting along with Wanda and Steve recently. And-”

“Though your rambling is adorable,” he suddenly cut you off, “I’m sure that the majority of the team wouldn’t appreciate my presence. Besides, I’m sure all of those people you just mentioned will be just fine without me there. They don’t need me to go.”

“But I need you to go. Come on, do it for me,” you said and grabbed his hand in both of yours, pressing it to your heart. You batted your eyes at him. “Please.”

He went even stiffer and returned to reading his book, but didn’t pull away from your touch. He sighed after a few uncomfortable seconds. You bit your lip as he replied, “Very well. I will consider it.”

You knew that was as close to a yes as you were going to get from him. You dropped his hand and wrapped your arms around his shoulders in a quick hug, excitedly thanking him. You got up and walked toward the library exit. Just as you were stepping out of the room, you looked over your shoulder. With a wink you said, “See you there.”

“But I didn’t sa-” but the rest of his sentence was cut off as you were already gone. You hoped he hadn’t noticed you blushing. Little did you know, he was thinking the same thing.

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

Later that evening you sat on the couch filled to the brim with anticipation. You were nervously fidgeting with the zipper on your hoodie. You didn’t even notice you were bouncing your leg until Nat laid a hand on it to still you.

“You’re rather excited about this movie,” she said with a knowing smirk. “I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of The Hunger Games.”

You just brushed it off with a roll of your eyes. In reality, she knew exactly why you had so much nervous energy tonight. During your years in the Tower, she became something of a big sister to you. Of course you’d told her about your crush on Loki, and, though she hadn’t been totally on board at first, she was your biggest supporter now. She assured you that Loki would show up, but you were still nervous. After all, he had only said he’d think about it.

Just when you couldn’t take it anymore and were about to get up to look for him, Loki walked in with his brother. Loki hadn’t embraced Earth fashion quite as much as Thor, usually opting to where the most formal thing he could find. That’s when he even wore something from this world, rather than some fancy Asgardian get-up. Tonight, however, the god of thunder had somehow convinced his brother to wear sweatpants and a tee shirt. Damn, he looked good. You must have been staring because you heard Nat snicker beside you.

Thor clasped his brother’s shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile before walking over to his favorite armchair. You quickly waved Loki over before he could retreat. You saw him visibly relax when you locked eyes. It made you feel good knowing you could provide him that kind of comfort. He nodded to Nat as he passed her and sat on the other side of you.

You thanked him for coming and offered him your bowl of popcorn. He eyed it skeptically at first, but, as soon as he put a piece in his mouth, you could tell he loved it. There wasn’t much time for conversation before the movie started. You gave him a smile as Tony shushed everyone and hit play.

With only twenty minutes left in the movie, almost the whole team was asleep. Sometimes you wondered what the point of even having a movie night was if no one was able to stay up for it. Though, you had to admit, there was something comforting about being able to fall asleep in the safety of this little family you had. And maybe that was the whole point. It was kind of the reason you wanted Loki here. So that he knew he was welcomed and belonged. You snuck a glance at him, just like you’d been doing for the past two hours. Somehow he’d managed to relax a lot more. For once, it didn’t seem like he was nervous to be in the same room as the rest of the team. You were starting to feel a little sleepy yourself and decided to rest your head on his shoulder, surprising him a little.

“My sweet,” Loki whispered in the dark, just loud enough so that only you would hear, “thank you for convincing me to come. It means a lot that you care.”

“No problem, Loki. Maybe you won’t fight me so hard next time.” Before you could think better of it, you lifted your head and placed a kiss on his cheek, then turned back to the movie.

He was shocked into silence and just stared at you, once again resting on his shoulder. He too turned back to the screen, and was grateful that it was dark so you couldn’t see how much he was blushing.

Perhaps, he thought, we’ll have to have another movie night. Just the two of us...

#loki x reader #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #marvel #mcu #first fic

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rabbitrabbit12321 · 3 years ago

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The quickest way you can tell no women, or at least no person who had ever been pregnant, were consulted in the script for Revenge of the Sith is how Padmé reacted on Mustafar. She was super pregnant with twins at the time and you expect me to believe that she was still putting up with Obi-wan and Anakin’s bullshit? Now, yes, RotS mostly made her out to be little more than a pretty prop piece, and she was not a particularly good wife from the start (not that he was a great husband either), but I take issue with the idea that the woman who stood up to galactic gangsters as a teenager would just go all weepy at this point.

Imagine this from her point of view: you’ve raced across the Galaxy to find the supposed love of your life and father of your unborn children, you know during this trip that he’s very likely been lured to the dark side and driven to murder children. You know going in that this is an extreme case and it’s not going to be easy. You get off your ship and go to him and, yeah, this is bad, but you can at least talk to him. You’re at a very delicate point with a guy who, if you were paying ANY attention, you knew was emotionally vulnerable and increasingly more volatile… and then, strutting off your ship like he owns it, comes Obi-wan in full arrogant mode, even though you TOLD him not to come and he’s NOT helping deescalate the situation.

Now understand that Padmé was far along in her pregnancy. Her pregnancy with TWINS. She’s put up with Anakin not being there because she’s a warrior’s wife and that’s just how shit goes. At this point in her pregnancy, no matter how good a version she got, it HURTS. Your organs have rearranged themselves, your bladder is the size of a thimble, your legs are sore and your feet have swollen. Your hip and pelvic bones are separating, which DOES NOT FEEL GOOD, and you have TWO little parasites that like to do flips and kick your spine and your internal organs. Did you know that fetuses are most physically active when the mother’s body is at rest? Padmé has Luke and Leia up in there — they are bouncing around like cirque in there. She isn’t sleeping. I am actually leaving out the things about pregnancy that make a child-bearer feel most undignified because the people of Tumblr are NOT READY for that realness.

Here’s how shit would’ve ACTUALLY gone down the second Obi-wan was mentioned:

PADME: I don't believe what I'm hearing . . . Obi-Wan was right. You've changed.

ANAKIN: I don't want to hear any more about Obi-Wan. The Jedi turned against me. Don't you turn against me.

PADME: I don't know you anymore. Anakin, you're breaking my heart. I'll never stop loving you, but you are going down a path I can’t follow.

ANAKIN: Because of Obi-Wan?

PADME: What? No! What does that even mean? I can’t follow because of what you've done . . . and what you plan to do. Stop, stop now. Come back! I love you. We have children, and they are going to be born any minute, so, we need to figure this out and I’m not raising our kids as Sith.

ANAKIN: (seeing Obi-Wan) Liar!

PADME turns around and. sees OBI-WAN standing in the doorway of the Naboo Cruiser.

PADME: No! What the hell Obi-wan!?!

ANAKIN: You're with him. You've betrayed me! You brought him here to kill me!

PADME: NO! You know what!?! I’m DONE! Obi-wan, quit standing there like an arrogant twat. I told you to go away. What did you do? Hide in a closet? Seriously? Turn around and swagger your ass back to whatever broom closet you spent the last several hours in. [Turns to Anakin] And YOU! You call me a liar? Say I’m plotting against you? Tell me, Anakin, if I even wanted to — which you KNOW I don’t and you’re just being a jealous bitch again FOR NO REASON — when, WHEN would I have time to do it? In between watching the whole damn Republic and everything I have spent my life working for crumble around me — thanks for THAT by the way, having to go to the ‘fresher every 5 minutes because of my bladder being shrunk to the size of a grape to make room for your kids — YES, PLURAL! I’m carrying TWINS, which you would know if you weren’t so busy “saving” me that you don’t have time to actually come home let alone to any appointments! — and never getting ANY sleep because these kids insist on bouncing around like Yoda in a lightsaber battle whenever I try to sit down? Seriously Anakin! WHEN, PRAY TELL, would I have any time to betray you? [seething, pauses for breath]

Obi-wan: [cautiously] My lady —

Padmé: SHUT UP OBI-WAN! YOU SHOULDN’T EVEN *BE* HERE! This is between my husband and I — yeah, HUSBAND! Catch up! — and you are adding nothing useful here! SO GO BACK TO YOUR CLOSET AND MEDITATE ON HOW YOU FUCKED UP TO THE POINT THAT YOUR BROTHER IS TRYING TO TAKE OVER THE WHOLE GODDAMN GALAXY!

[At this point Anakin would be in shock and would probably say something unhelpful while his brain was working on processing like: wife YELLING | wife MAD | Twins, TWO, WUT? | heheh, Obi-wan’s FACE right now | oh shit, she’s turning back to me…]

Anakin: I am the Chosen One, I have all this power!

Padmé: Oh really? Good! Does that mean you have the meiloorun juice I asked you to get me TWO MONTHS AGO!?! I take from your blank expression that’s a no. Shocking! I remind you, Chosen One, that you CHOSE to marry and have children with me. If you want to protect me, then get on the fucking ship and defend me and our children from the Emperor that’s no doubt coming for us now. You know, the one that you’ve been helping because you’re so full of yourself that it never occurred to you that you might be WRONG.

Anakin: But my mother…

Padmé: Really, Anakin? Really? You’re fighting with your best friend and your HEAVILY PREGNANT WIFE on a damn volcano planet. I don’t think Shmi would exactly be bubbling with pride right now.

We’re done here Anakin. Get on the damn ship so we can get this shit sorted out. And lose the yellow eyes, they’re creepy. Give me your lightsaber. GIVE IT ANAKIN! [Anakin resists at first, but then blinks and exhales and his eyes are blue again] Yeah. [She takes the lightsaber in one hand and one of his in her other and gently pulls him up the ramp onto the ship] Come on, these fumes are making me nauseous. [Yelling into the ship] Obi-wan, make yourself useful and work out a rendezvous with Yoda and Bail. We have to get to work fixing this mess you all caused but, to start, Anakin and I are going to snuggle and he’s going to rub my back while we start working through some shit… and you are NOT TO TALK TO US about anything other than flight updates until we get to Yoda.

——

Sure, that wouldn’t have served the purpose of bridging the gap to A New Hope, but it’s a lot more believable.

Sorry the formatting is shit, I just wrote this on my phone on a whim.

#anakin skywalker

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chocoluckchipz · 4 years ago

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A Soulmate for Christmas - 3

< Previous

"Dupain-Cheng. We need to talk."

Marinette stopped breathing, sinking deeper under the desk.

Chloe groaned and took a few steps away. "Don't make me get down there and drag you out. And next time, make sure you aren't hiding right in front of a mirror. Be thankful I didn't out you to Adrien."

Marinette glared at her reflection peeking out from a corner of the mostly covered mirror she’d failed to notice.

"I suppose you want my gratitude for your generosity?" she huffed, climbing out of her hiding spot to face her old nemesis.

"I’ll do without, but let’s make one thing clear—I did it for Adrien, not you."

"Oh really? I fail to see how this benefits him since, you know, he wanted to find me."

Chloe smirked and looked Kagami’s way. Marinette followed her gaze, only now noticing how intently Kagami was watching her.

"So, this is her?"

"Unfortunately."

Matching smirks on their lips, Kagami’s eyes held restrained curiosity. Chloe’s? Disbelief.

Marinette could feel the weight of their judgement increase with each passing second. She scoffed. This crap was tiring to deal with back in the lycée. Now it wasn’t even worth the fight. "Listen, I doubt either of you want me to come in and mess up whatever thing you three have going on, so how about you tell Adrien you mistook me for someone else, the waitress he spoke to was not Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and we all walk our separate ways?"

Kagami folded her arms over her chest, arching an eyebrow. "What about Adrien?"

"What about him?"

"He’s your soulmate."

"He’s engaged to you."

"Did you hear anything we said here?"

"Didn’t have much of a choice."

"Then, you’re aware that we’re faking it. There is nothing but friendship between us."

"So I’ve heard."

"And you still want to walk away?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"She’s always been weird," Chloe snipped. "Adrien deserves better."

Marinette scoffed. "No one deserves a soulmate who humiliates them in front of the whole country."

"You can’t really pick your soulmate, you know," Kagami said.

"But I can walk away from one who respects neither me nor our bond. Fake or not, he chose to be with you. I’m not going to interfere. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back work."

Kagami grabbed Marinette’s hand before she could take a step. "You don’t understand. It’s not something he’s doing because he doesn’t respect or want you. Adrien’s practically saving my life with this, risking everything he ever wanted to do so."

Marinette almost laughed. "How is fake dating saving your life, Mlle Tsurugi? Fake dating is for fiction, a good book for a lonely evening or a movie to laugh with friends about. In the real world, in our modern society, it's irrelevant. And especially for someone as powerful and influential as you. You don't need to fake date. You can just say a word and all your problems will float away."

Kagami’s grip on Marinette’s hand tightened as she seethed through her teeth. "You have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Oh, don’t I? I’ve spent enough years in the same class with Chloe to see how people in your circle solve their problems."

"You shouldn’t put everyone in the same basket." Chloe stepped in, wrapping her arm around Kagami’s shoulder. She leaned closer to Kagami, their cheeks starting to glow at the contact, Kagami’s with a bee mark, Chloe’s with a dragon.

To say Marinette was surprised was an understatement.

"Just because we live in different circles doesn’t mean our lives are easy or that our problems always go away with a snap of our fingers," Chloe continued. "If you want to think of me like that, fine. Whatever. But not Adrien and certainly not Kagami."

"I still fail to see the reason why someone would need to fake date."

Before Chloe could start talking, Kagami cut her off with a wave of her hand. "Marinette, would you mind hearing me out? If you still want to walk away after what I have to tell you, neither of us will stop you."

Perhaps, this was the quickest way to get this over with. Maybe, she was curious herself as to what was going on between the three of them. Whatever it was, Marinette pulled up a chair, sat down and waited.

Kagami settled on a couch while Chloe leaned on its arm. "I was born and raised in Japan in a very conservative family where traditions were the law and whoever broke them was excommunicated forever. When I was fifteen, my mother and I moved to France, and I got to know the more liberal approach to life the French follow. I met Adrien through our parents’ business dealings. We became friends, and for the first time ever, someone could understand me, the life I was living, and the feelings I was suppressing. He wasn’t in any better of a situation at the time, but at least I was allowed to attend a private school. Adrien was kept locked inside his mansion. Later, I met Chloe and discovered the soulmate bond we shared. I was happy for the first time in my life. That is until my mother decided I had to marry one of her business partners’ sons for the sake of the family’s interests."

"A much older male," Chloe scoffed, scratching her nose. "Disgusting."

"Fifteen years older," Kagami confirmed. "And he lives in Japan which meant I would be forced to move back and lose not only my friends but also my soulmate. I would be expected to be an obedient, silent wife for the rest of my life, confined to looking after the house and birthing as many children as my husband wished."

"Ridiculous!" Chloe huffed. "Utterly ridiculous."

Kagami patted Chloe’s hand in a comforting gesture. "Perhaps if I’d never moved to France I would have gone along with her plans without complaining. However, after I had a taste of freedom and saw how happy I can be, I knew I couldn’t give up all of this. Give up Adrien and Chloe. Give up my dreams for the future. So, I panicked and said I was already secretly dating someone and didn’t tell her only because I wanted to make sure it was serious. Mother would’ve never agreed to let me stay if that person wasn’t from her list of approved potential spouses. A list made up of very influential and wealthy people. Adrien was one of them."

"He’s on the list of every Parisian mother." Chloe huffed. "Sucks to be him."

"I couldn’t say Chloe’s name," Kagami continued. "Mother isn't against same-sex relationships, but she considers them just ‘practice’ for the ‘real ones’ because, apparently, I need a man as a life partner."

"As I said, ridiculous."

"So, I said Adrien’s name, then begged him to play along. We never thought it would get out of our circle. We even developed a plan for how to get me out unscathed and free. Adrien and I were supposed to only play a couple until my birthday in November when I became a legal adult by Japanese law. When that happened, I started transferring my funds to accounts my mother had no access to so I could walk away freely. But that takes time, and two weeks ago she found out and demanded an explanation for the transactions. She threatened to send me back to Japan immediately if she didn’t approve of what I had in mind. The transfers weren’t done yet and she had enough influence to stop it.

"I freaked out again and said Adrien and I were getting married, so I was gathering my personal funds into my own account that I planned to join with my husband’s after the wedding. I told her we were waiting for a special occasion to announce the engagement. She wasn’t buying it. She gave me a week to prove my words. She put a hold on all the transfers until then. It was Adrien who suggested we take it to the media. That way, she wouldn't doubt us, and she’d be somewhat pressured to let me stay in France, at least for the time being. Once the article was out, my mother released the funds, and as of last night, I’m a free woman.

"No one was ever going to announce an engagement. My things are being packed as we speak while my mother and I are out of the house. I won’t be going home with her. I’m moving in with Chloe, and, thanks to Adrien, I’m not doing so without a penny to my name. Adrien never meant to hurt you. He never looked any other woman's way. All he wanted was to help a friend."

There wasn’t much Marinette could do but remain frozen in her seat, stunned at Kagami’s words. Her defences down, she hated to admit that everything Kagami had said made sense. There was a reason. A reason good enough to justify this whole thing. She couldn't hold this against Adrien. Heck, if any of Marinette’s friends were in Kagami’s shoes, she’d be fake proposing to them too. So, if everything that Kagami had told her was true, then…

"Marinette," Kagami spoke more gently, watching her with a lot less hostility. "For as long as I’ve known Adrien, every summer, every vacation he got, he was travelling to Milan, attending every fashion show and just wandering the streets in hopes of finding you. He painted over and publicly revealed his soulmate mark only because he’s desperate at this point. His father’s been pressuring him to date for publicity for years. He gave him a break when he thought we were a couple, but that ends tonight. And let me tell you, Gabriel Agreste is not the person to care for Adrien’s feelings and desires. He’ll make his life a living hell if Adrien continues to refuse to comply. Please, Marinette. Give him a chance. He deserves it."

"I’m giving him your number as a Christmas present tomorrow," Chloe spoke up. "You have until then to think about it. Let’s go, Kagami. It’s time to set Adrien free and show the world who your soulmate truly is."

"Right." Kagami stood up, giving Marinette one last glance. "The choice is yours, but you’d be a fool to walk away from a man like him. They don’t come as kind, loyal and loving as he is these days."

The door behind the pair closed, leaving only the sound of Marinette’s heart echoing in her ears. She could hardly move. If everything she’d just learned was true, she owed Adrien an apology and, if he wanted one, she owed him a chance. Because while she would definitely want a chance with the man Kagami had just described, she had to wonder if she deserved one at all.

With a sigh, she stood up and headed back towards the kitchen.

Later. She’d find him later. First, she had a job to finish and sweets to serve. The rest would have to wait. They’d waited for years. What would be another few hours?

Next >

Read it on A03 FF.net WattPad

Buy the author a Ko-fi for Christmas

#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #soulmates #adrinette #fluff #light angst #misunderstanding #happy end #aged up #no magic au #soulmate marks

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kim-ruzek · 4 years ago

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Girl Code Duty

Summary: Fix-it for 3x20. Sylvie stops Kim making the bad decision to sleep with Roman.

Warnings: Sean Roman bashing.

Word Count: 3.4k

Read on AO3

Notes: This is the quickest I've wrote a fic in so long and I loved every second of it. This was basically just written as an excuse to Roman bash, and I like fixing things so that Kim never slept with him. I'm just sad I had to acknowledge that my girl Sylvie also had.

Also, a thank you to @justanoffalygirl because one) this fic idea was created when talking to them, and two) for letting me steal a line from their fic.

Sylvie sits at the counter at Molly’s by herself, quietly drinking her beer. It’s one of those nights at the bar, where it’s full—not full-full, that it was loud and overwhelming, but enough that you could sit alone in the crowd peacefully unnoticed—but not that much by fifty-one, or really with their friends from the twenty-first or Chicago med.

It had been a quiet few days. Her shift—which ended that morning—was an uneventful one, nothing too straining happening the whole shift. Those shifts can be hit and miss, for Sylvie. On one hand, they’re a breath of fresh air, a welcome break from the chaos that comes with her work, but in the other hand, they tire her in a whole different way to a chaotic shift.

Sylvie’s born to be a paramedic, and she truly thrives in the situations the profession demands of her, and the days where she does nothing but sit around itches her feet, tiring her with boredom.

And of course she’s still mentally exhausted by all the drama that went down with Chilli.

Sylvie had a rather uneventful day even after the shift. A day spent watching home renovation shows, which though entertaining, just made her even more itchy to do something. And all that did was make Sylvie realise she’s gotten herself into a really boring rut recently.

So in the evening, she found herself at Molly’s.

She had gone thinking at least she’ll get some excitement hanging with her co-workers and friends. Otis isn’t on shift today, but Gabby and Herrmann are and it’s always exciting around them. But the punters are keeping them rather occupied, and the rest of the bar is rather empty of friends.he had gone thinking at least she’ll get some excitement hanging with her co-workers and friends. Otis isn’t on shift today, but Gabby and Herrmann are and it’s always exciting around them. But the punters are keeping them rather occupied, and the rest of the bar is rather empty of friends.

It’s okay, though, she finds herself thinking, enjoying the beer and the peacefulness of just among the crowd. The perks of drinking at a bar, with none of the anxious worries of perverts or being in danger; not with this being a firefighter run bar.

“Herrmann! Another beer, please?” Sylvie’s attention is drawn to where Kim Burgess sits, at a table not too far away from the bar. Her voice is a few octaves louder than it normally is, and Sylvie wonders how many beers she’s had. Having gotten drunk with Kim before, Sylvie would think at least a few.

Kim had been Molly’s when she had came in herself, and Sylvie had not been surprised having heard from Gabby the events that pd and med was focused on today. No one could say they didn’t have a quiet day.

Sylvie briefly had considered going over, but Kim had been sitting with Sean Roman and Natalie Manning, the three looking as if they were processing the day’s events together. Knowing how important those decompressing moments are in their line of work, especially decompressing with those you were ‘in the trenches’ with, as it were, Sylvie had decided against it.

And up until now, Sylvie had forgotten all about them.

In the time between Sylvie getting here, and this moment, Natalie had left, just leaving Kim and Sean remaining, and there is a couple of empty beer bottles on the table.

Sylvie watches them for a few minutes. She’s aware that it’s rude to stare—her mother’s words to her when she was a young girl echoing in her mind—and that she should either look away or go over to them, but something, right at the back of her head, niggles at her, telling her to watch. And as a trained paramedic, Sylvie has learnt to listen to those feelings.

Kim is drunk, that Sylvie could see. Not so much that Herrmann should cut her off, but definitely slightly more than her usual preferred tipsy. Sean is also buzzed, which makes sense depending the case they had. They’re sitting very close to each other, very much in each other’s space, and they’re clearly having a good time as they’re laughing. Kim’s hand keeps touching Sean’s shoulder, a touch he’s very much returning at every given moment.

Yet again, this makes sense; Kim gets super affectionate the more drunk she gets.

But at the same time, Sylvie understands that isn’t Kim’s usual affectionate touch and it dawns on Sylvie why her friend senses have been activated. Sylvie isn’t watching her friend get drunk after a tough day: she’s watching her friend considering making a very stupid, drunken mistake.

Kim is considering sleeping with Sean.

Or, she should say, Kim’s considering letting Sean fuck her, quickly, because Sylvie’s own experience very much told her that there’s no way that man knows the woman is also meant to be satisfied. And what a glow down that would be for her, as from what Kim’s told her drunkenly before, Adam is very good in that area.

No, Sylvie thinks to herself. There’s no way her girl code can allow Kim to have such disappointing dick. It’s a bad decision for Kim to have her post-engagement rebound like this anyway, and even if that wasn’t enough for Sylvie to interfere, she couldn’t in good consciousness subject her friend to that.

Every time Sylvie looks at Sean and remembers that night, all she can think is how she wished someone was able to do that for her.

Sylvie jumps off her stool, walking towards Kim and Sean now stand. It looks like this is their last beer before they’re going to leave, and Sylvie’s glad she spotted them when she did.

“Hello, you two,” Sylvie greets them, inserting herself between the two of them. Cock-blocking her friends to stop them making bad decisions is something she’s rather good at—she’s not just an amazing paramedic who saves people on duty, medically.

A look of irritation passes across Sean’s face, but Kim’s far from annoyed at her sudden presence, evident by how she throws her arms around Sylvie the moment she gets there. Kim hugs her tight, her drunkenness making her squeeze maybe a little too hard.

“Sylvie! Hi.” Kim grins widely at her. “We saw a baby survive today. It was, Sylvie, it was incredible! And amazing! Medicine is truly incredible,”

Sylvie smiles at her friend’s excited amazement. Kim then gasps.

“But I don’t need to tell you that, do I? That’s basically what you do every day. Like a blonde, pretty superhero.” Kim squeezes her again.

“Oh, I don’t know if—” Sylvie begins to protest, but Kim cuts her off.

“Yes. You’re a superhero.” She nods with enthusiasm, certain in her belief. A smile appears on Sylvie’s lips again.

“Okay. I’m a superhero.” She concedes, before adding, “but if I am, you definitely are. You’re a kickass cop!”

“Hm. But you save lives. Like actual lives, people call you when they’re dying. I’m like the sidekick to your superhero. Like you’re the boss, the one people go to. I just help,” Kim rambles on. Sylvie’s got an urge to point out to that technically, paramedics generally turn up to assist cops, not the other way around, but she pushes it down, knowing drunkenness knows no reason or logic.

“Okay, then, sidekick. Let’s get you home,” Sylvie says, thinking that it’s not only best if she stops Kim from leaving with him, but ensuring that even after she leaves the bar that she doesn’t make the bad decision.

“Oh. Brett, actually, Kim and I, uh, we were getting a taxi together,” Sean speaks up then, reminding them of his presence. At the use of her last name, Sylvie almost rolls her eyes. It’s almost as if he was trying to pretend he hadn’t seen her naked, that they hadn’t also “got a taxi together”.

Sylvie must’ve drank more of her beer than she thought as she’s tempted to remind him of such—and how Sylvie had left alone in another taxi only fifty-two minutes later.

“Well, I’m here now,” Sylvie dismisses him, acting as if his meaning of getting a taxi together had gone over her head. She links her arm with Kim’s, keeping her attached to her side. Kim looks between the two of them, as if trying to decide which one to go with. (Like Sylvie would be giving her a choice).

“No, uh—” Sean continues to protest, but Sylvie sticks to doing her friend duty, interrupting him by talking over him.

“Come on, Kim. I’ve had a boring day today, I can use some girl time,” Sylvie tells her friend. At her words, Kim pouts sympathetically at her, and Sylvie knows she’s successfully diverted her friend’s attention away from Roman. Kim then looks at Sean, giving him an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Sean, she needs girl time.” Kim tells him and Sylvie would be lying if she didn’t get some satisfaction in how disappointed Sean looks.

Annoyance is also wrapped up in his expression, but Sylvie can see he’s trying to hide it, presumably so to ensure Kim wouldn’t dismiss whatever was going to happen from happening another day. Sylvie makes a mental note to make sure, when her friend is sober, that this was a one off, that Kim shouldn’t ever consider going there again.

With that settled, Sylvie lightly tugs at Kim, to get them moving towards the door. Sometimes, leading drunken friends can feel very much like herding farm animals, but Kim moves with little encouragement, barely taking the time to say (well, yell rather loudly) a goodbye to Sean before she heads to the exit with Sylvie.

“Can we go to yours instead?” Kim asks, yet again her voice louder than usual, as soon as they get into Sylvie’s car. “You know, for girl time? I really don’t want to be at mine,” she adds on.

“Sure, that’s fine,” Sylvie nods. She understands Kim’s unwillingness to go back to her apartment; just a few weeks ago, she was thinking it would soon not be her home, that she’d be building a life in another apartment with Adam.

After Kim asks her that, she stares out the window for a minute or so, a troubled and sombre expression on her face. All Sylvie does, all she knows Kim needs from her at that moment, is reach over and lightly squeeze her hand.

Then, whatever dark thoughts were swirling around in Kim’s mind passes, and Kim’s her animated drunken self, rambling on about the baby again for the rest of the journey to Sylvie’s apartment.

“So what do you want to do?” Kim asks her when they enter Sylvie’s place. Before Sylvie can answer, Kim gasps, spinning around to face her.

“We could put on some music? I’ve missed dancing. I love Molly’s and all, but it’s not always the best place to just let loose. Or do you want to watch a movie? Oh! Let’s watch one we can make a drinking game to play while watching. Or do you just want to drink and talk? Or a game? But what game would be fun just the two of us? Maybe we should call others. Gabby’s working isn’t she? But maybe—” Kim talks a million miles a minute, her mind jumping all over the place.

“Kim. Kim.” Sylvie grabs her attention, interrupting her friend. “How about we don’t drink, and you go to sleep?”

“But what about you? You wanted girl time.” Kim tilts her head, her drunken confusion amusing Sylvie. Sometimes Sylvie thinks there’s nothing funnier than being sober, or more sober at least, than your drunk friend.

“I’m fine. But you need to sleep. This has already been enough excitement to make up for my boring day,” Sylvie reassures her, expertly leading Kim to get bedroom while she talks.

“Oh. Okay.” Kim accepts. “But do I have to sleep? I’m not tired,”

“That’s because you’re drunk, Kim. You’re buzzed. But you’ll thank me tomorrow, so come on. Get off your shoes. You can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in if you want?” Sylvie offers as Kim sits down on her bed, doing as she said and taking off her shoes. Kim shakes her head.

“’s alright. I can just sleep in this.” She responds. Sylvie can see that she’s starting to loose her buzz, her eyes getting tired.

“You sure?” Sylvie double checks.

“Yeah. But I don’t feel right sleeping here. This is your bed, I’ll take the sofa,” At Kim’s words, Sylvie shakes her head.

“No, I want you to sleep here. It’ll help your hangover to get some good rest. And I’m not on shift tomorrow, so I can sleep the whole day if I want, so it’s fine.” Sylvie reassures her, holding up a hand as Kim goes to protest.

“Kim. I’m a paramedic, remember? You should listen to me.” That stops her, and so Sylvie nudges her, moving onto the next part—actually getting her in the bed. Because it has been a while since Kim’s last drink now, and her buzz is going, leaving a sleepy drunk Kim in it’s wake, that is a relatively easy task.

“You’re such a good friend,�� Kim tells her, her voice sleepy, after Sylvie’s gotten her into her bed. Sylvie smiles at the brunette. “An amazing kickass, sweet wonderful friend,”

“You want to know something?” Sylvie asks softly as Kim snuggles down into the sheets, settling. “You’re an amazing kickass, sweet wonderful friend too,”

“No, I’m not.” Kim protests. Her voice is quiet, full of sleep still, but Sylvie can also hear the pain, the hurt, that’s in it. “I’m an idiot. Why did I think I’d get to be happy, that I’d get my happy ever after? And now I never will. Who’ll want to be with me, when they find out I’ve had a failed engagement? I never wanted this, I only ever wanted to be engaged once, and now. I’ll probably never be again.”

Sylvie sits on her bed, next to where Kim lies. Kim’s looking at her with such pain and hurt in her eyes, a pain and hurt that Sylvie has known herself, and she’s glad she intervened because this Kim, this drunken hurt Kim, is most definitely not ready for a rebound.

“Kim. That’s not true. You will find love again, I mean, you’re a catch! And who cares if you’ve had a failed engagement—so have I, remember? It doesn’t define you or stop you from getting dates. Yeah, it’s a little bit more than this, but it’s still essentially just another break-up.” Sylvie strokes some of Kim’s hair, in the way her mother did to her when she was a little girl.

“And you are many things, Kim Burgess, but an idiot is not one of them. You deserve happiness, and you will get it. I promise. And if anyone ever tells you otherwise, give me their names and I’ll kick their ass. And that includes you, yourself. You’re a wonderful person, and you should recognise that.” Sylvie reassures her friend, her voice firm, showing how serious she is.

Kim gives her a small smile, her eyes having become watery at Sylvie’s words. Sylvie can still see the pain in her, but she can also see that her words has had an affect on Kim, in a positive way. From her own experience, Sylvie knows Kim is far off from being totally okay, but she knows that a small part of her has been healed ever so slightly. And that is a win, for both of them.

It’s not long after that Kim falls asleep. Sylvie turns off her bedroom light, after putting a glass of water and paracetamol in her bedside table for when Kim wakes up in the morning.

Sylvie’s already awake, sitting at her kitchen table with a cup of coffee, pancakes and a newspaper when Kim sleepily stumbles out of her bedroom rubbing her eyes.

“Good Morning,” Sylvie smiles at her in greeting. Kim blinks at her for a few seconds before returning the smile.

“Morning,” Kim’s voice is still groggy from sleep. Sylvie pushes her plate towards her.

“Here. Eat.” Sylvie tells her. Kim opens her mouth, and sensing protestions, she holds up her hand. “You look like you could do with it, and I can always make more.”

Sylvie watches as Kim sits down at the table, obediently beginning to eat. She rises, heading for her fridge. “I’ve got some bacon you can eat with that, if you want? It’ll help you with your energy. Also, I can make you some coffee,”

At that, Kim’s head lifts up. “Coffee,”

Sylvie laughs at that reaction, and how Kim’s voice sounds so desperate and she realises offering the coffee should’ve been her first move.

“Please,” Kim then adds, as if realising that she could be coming off rude. She isn’t, of course. Sylvie recognises she’s just sleepy and hungover, but Kim is always so conscious of being polite. “Thank you. And could I have some of that bacon, please? It sounds like such a good option right now,”

Sylvie places the freshly made cup of coffee in front of Kim before working on the bacon. It’s silent in the apartment, as Sylvie cooks and Kim eats, and she finds herself thinking that if she hadn’t been at Molly’s, Kim would’ve been having a very different, awkward morning instead.

“Sylvie?” Kim says as she eats the bacon. Sylvie looks up from her newspaper. “Thanks. For what you said last night. I, I needed to hear that.” Kim smiles at her and Sylvie returns it.

“No problem. Really, Kim. I’ve been there, remember? And at least I didn’t have to see my ex-fiancé every day at work.” Sylvie affectionately squeezes Kim’s hand. “Anytime you need to talk, especially to someone who understands, I’m here. Even if you just want to get drunk and talk about anything else,” Kim smiles appreciatively at her words.

After Kim’s finished her coffee and food, she tells Sylvie that she’s going to go, needing to go back to hers and shower and get dressed before work. Sylvie offers to drive her, but Kim shakes her off, saying she’ll get a taxi. Sylvie wants to protest, insist, but she can tell that Kim isn’t just wanting a taxi because of not wanting to a burden, but because she needs the time alone, so Sylvie drops the matter.

“Thank you. Really.” Kim says to her as she goes to leave. She hugs Sylvie tightly, appreciatively, a hug Sylvie happily returns. “And not just for this, breakfast and letting me sleep here, or even not just for what you said but for the whole night. I, I was feeling very emotional and that combined with the alcohol... I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for making decisions,” Sylvie nods, getting exactly what Kim meant.

“It’s fine. My duty, really, as your friend.” Sylvie replies, continuing.

“I mean not just because I’ve been there, and because you were drunk, but because honestly? As your friend, it’s my duty to save you from disappointing dick,” Sylvie pulls a face, remembering her encounter with Roman.

A laugh splutters out of Kim, and she leans forward towards Sylvie. “Really? He’s no good? I mean...I get that vibe, but really?”

“Kim. I was out of his apartment fifty-two minutes later. He’s not just disappointing, he’s quick and awful. Very in-out, selfish kind of man.” Sylvie grimaces as she remembers. Kim laughs again, and Sylvie’s happy at least something good came out of that night.

“Oh god. Really, then. Thank you. I mean, I get the vibe, but you seriously left that soon after?” Kim shakes her head. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,”

“Trust me, so am I. So, please, Kim, never ever consider that again, no matter how drunk. It will not be worth it.” Sylvie shivers at the memory. Kim pulls her in for another hug.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I don’t even know why I even considered it. Maybe because I know how much Adam hates him, so I was kind of being a bit destructive? I don’t know. But whatever the reason, it has passed. If I’m going to make a bad decision, I better be getting satisfaction from it,” she reassures her. Sylvie grins.

“Good. My job here is done, then.” Sylvie pauses. “And Kim, for what it’s worth? If I was you, I’d probably spend some time thinking about that reason why—maybe your relationship with Adam isn’t as failed as you think. But I know I don’t know the ins and outs, so maybe don’t give my opinion much thought. Now, you should get a move on! You’ve got work.”

Kim gives Sylvie a thoughtful look, before nodding. “Yeah, I should go. Bye, and uh, thanks again,” she says, before heading out of the door.

#kim burgess #sylvie brett #chicago pd #Chicago pd fanfiction #Chicago pd fic #ree writes #ree's.writing

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years ago

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ꜱᴡɪᴍᴍɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ | ᴀᴋᴀᴀꜱʜɪ ᴋᴇɪᴊɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ

So-- I know I should be writing and working on the requests I have and the other WIPs I have in my drafts--- but aonjgvoaierh I can’t help myself. I literally got all of my Fukurodani themed items today in the mail--- so here we are LOLOLOL

Majority of the items I got are Akaashi themed / centric (No surprise there) Thus this idea was born LOLOL, so here I am swimming in my big ass Fukurodani jacket while I write this fluff skskks I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it!

» » Admin Ko

Wrapped in nothing but warmth, she couldn’t help but feel adoring eyes on her frame. The fabric surrounding her practically swallowed her up as she peered over to sweet gunmetal blue hues. The owner being quite proud of the display as he couldn’t help but flash her a small, yet teasing smile as she offered an inaudible scoff. Though in contrast she made sure to roll her eyes in the utmost exaggerated fashion before burying herself deeper into the familiar scent of her boyfriend’s jacket.

When (y/n) had mentioned she was cold, she half expected the vice captain to merely shrug her off and offer a quick solution. Instead, she was met with an abundance of fabric. The taller male having discarded his jacket as a warm smile was suddenly gracing her eyes.

“K-Keiji?”

“Hm? You had stated you were cold. This was the quickest solution I could think of.”

Though polite, the cheeky tone that weaved it’s ways into his voice told her otherwise as a sudden flush of pink overtook her cheeks. Subconsciously, she clutched onto the jacket where her heart rested. A feeble attempt in soothing her rapidly beating heart as she could only really watch the latter bring a hand to her slightly tousled locks.

“I hope this will suffice until practice is over.”

Eyes glinted with mischief and adoration, Akaashi couldn’t help himself as his fingers buried deeply into her messy locks. The pout that graced her features only added to the endearing sight placed before him. A heavy desire to suddenly swoop her up into his arms into a sweet chaste kiss was all too much for the setter as he forcibly swallowed the aching desire.

With great reluctance, the second year finally pulled himself back from her. Whether of his own accord or because of his teammates nonstop cooing, no one would really know why Akaashi had pulled back in that moment.

There was a hint of disappointment, but even that was quickly dismissed as the team began their collective stretching.

With the distraction now out of the way, (y/n) finally felt herself ease fully into the comfort of her boyfriend’s jacket, thus leading her to be seated on the bench whilst reviewing over the misses, hits, and any other mental notes whilst observing the team. Of course, never once forgetting about those love-filled blue orbs that never seemed to leave her form.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji #loml #i cry why am i like this #yeet here we go bois

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lumos-solemn · 4 years ago

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Sorted

Summary : Just my imagination of how the Weasley-Potter kids would have sorted! Age Order.

Victoir Weasley : The first Weasley to join after the war wasn't a Gryffindor but a Ravenclaw. Being the first in a while, Victoir was quite nervous though Teddy made her feel better. She wasn't sure which house she wanted but she thought she would be a Gryffindor given her great family background. The hat did waver between the two houses for a while but soon it decided that Victoir's thirst for knowledge definitely overpowers her courage. Being the bookworm she was (encouraged by her Aunt Hermione), Victoir was very happy to be in the house which inhabited people with similar interests as her. As for the Weasleyes, they were excited to welcome a new house member as Arthur said proudly, "Ah..Who doesn't love a little change?"

Lucy Weasley : The first born of Percy Weasley was the second to attend Hogwarts after Victoir and she was as nervous as her cousin. Apparently, Lucy also didn't come out as a Gryffindor instead, she was sorted into Hufflepuff thus the second to break the chain. But it wasn't actually a surprise considering Audrey, Lucy's mother was also a Hufflepuff and also Lucy's calm and kind demeanour to everyone. And like Victoir, She was also welcomed into the family proudly.

Dominique Weasley : Unlike her forerunners, Dominique decided to go with the chain by getting sorted into Gryffindor itself thus being the first of that generation to be sorted into Gryffindor. "Ah...I see the Weasley fieriness.", The sorting hat had told her. It was no surprise to the family considering her fiery nature and rebel behaviour. Like her Dad, she too liked experimenting with fashion and went for what people call 'odd' jobs.

Fred Weasley II : Named after one of the biggest prankster and a truest Gryffindor, the sorting of Fred wasn't surprising at all. The hat was quick to take its decision and didn't even forget to mention, "You might make a good friend to Peeves!", and he did. Fred Weasley was indeed a true Gryffindor.

James Sirius Potter : The sorting of the first Weasley-Potter in the generation was one of the quickest sorting Hogwarts had ever seen. The hat barely touched his head before announcing him as a Gryffindor just like everyone had predicted. Indeed, the hybrid of a Weasley and a Potter, 2 of the greatest Gryffindor families in the whole wizarding world cannot go wrong. Right from the young age, James was in the front row, whether it was mischief or taking risks, he was up for everything. And just like that, James went on to prove the true Gryffindor he is.

Albus Severus Potter : If his brother's was the quickest to sort, his proved to be the one which took the longest. Albus was almost a hatstall, the sorting hat taking 4 minutes to sort him. The hat wavered between Slytherin and Gryffindor and despite Albus's wishes to stay in Gryffindor, the hat decided against it saying he was too ambitious and hard working to be in Gryffindor. Not a big surprise to everybody, but a rather huge one to many, the sorting of Albus Severus was one of the biggest gossip of the town. The middle child of the Chosen One being sorted into Slytherin didn't digest to everyone. Though Albus was not the happiest when the hat announced him Slytherin, he went on to prove a true Slytherin to the lot.

Louis Weasley : Just like his sister, the one Louis looked up to the most, he was sure he is going to be a Gryffindor and just like he wanted, Louis was sorted into Gryffindor joining his sister and cousins. But the hat did put a great thought into putting him in Hufflepuff but Louis was sure he wanted Gryffindor, so the hat went with wish placing in the desired house.

[Note : This is not canon and is only based on how I imagined them to be sorted. Please share if I have left out any other Weasleys in the next gen.]

Rose Weasley : Following Albus, Rose's was the second longest sorting in the family as the hat took 3 min and 49 seconds to sort her wavering between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Though Harry and Hermione claimed she will be in the Ravenclaw house, Ron and Ginny and the rest of the Weasleyes thought she would belong in Gryffindor coz Rose resembled her godmother Ginny Potter so much in many ways when young. And at the end, Harry and Hermione had to lose the bet as Rose came out as a Gryffindor.

Roxanne Weasley : Born to two of the truest Gryffindors out there, Roxanne Weasley was indeed a Gryffindor. Be it her playful behaviour and mischievous smile, no one could even doubt her belonging in any other house.

Hugo Weasley : This was one of those cases in which everyone was quite confident about the house. Hugo was, in no doubt, a true Ravenclaw. But the surprise element was, the hat had considered putting him in Hufflepuff. "You would do good in kind Hufflepuff, but you do great in Ravenclaw, the powerful mind you have.", the hat had said.

Lily Potter : Lily Luna Potter was almost a Slytherin. The hat thought she inherited some of the great Slytherin qualities just like her brother but the Gryffindor in her proved to be more strong. Thus, the hat announced her to be in the house of the bravest.

#hogwarts #the sorting hat #hp next gen #james sirius #albus severus potter #harry potter #harry potter headcanons #harry potter fanfictions

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renee-writer · 4 years ago

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Learning to Love Chapter 155 Birth and Death

The enter Kabul and meet up with the marines already there. "We know where they are. We have had them under surveillance for a month." They are told.

"How much security is there?" Marcus asks.

"Outside perimeter has between five and six guards. We don't know about the inside."

"Okay. We will go in tonight. The guards will be taken out and Chief here will get as much intel from the inside then we will go in."

That is what they do. It is so easy it is almost a joke. The five terrorists they are after inside are reliant on their outside security. When Rifleman and Tex take them out, they are helpless. The Team quickly take them out.

"That was to easy." Liam says what they our all feeling.

"I agree. We need to be prepared for more resistance." Their next stop has 10 terrorist they are after. They rest the next day before heading out.

"Owe!" Grace is awakened that same night with her first true contraction. She had been having increasingly strong Braxton Hicks contractions for days but this was qualifiably different. It is stronger, more focused. She gets out of bed and stumbles to the kitchen to get a glass of water, knowing false labor could be caused by dehydration. After drinking it, she waits. Ten minutes later, she feels another. It is then she calls Amy.

"Hello," Willy sleepily answers.

"Willy, sorry to wake you but I need Any. I think it is time."

"Wow, hold on," she hears him gently waking Amy. "Grace, what is happening?" Grace is instantly awake, alert, and in coaching mode.

"A contraction woke me up about ten minutes ago and I had another ten minutes later and, oh, here it goes again." Grace is unable to talk through it.

"Grace, I am on the way, hold on." An hour later, they are on the way to the birthing center. Daniel, meanwhile, is on the way to trouble.

They find a completely different situation there. The house that holds the ten remaining terrorists is well guarded. There are twenty perimeter guards and, the house itself is more secure, with bars on the windows and doors with double dead bolts. "Yep, this one isn't going to be as easy." Daniel says, with a sigh. He is trying to concentrate with Grace heavy on his mind.

"Grace, you are definitely in labor. You are four cms dilated. They are on the way." Grace tries to smile at this wonderful news but Daniel"s absence and the pain going through her, make it hard.

"Look at me Grace," Amy directs, "breath through it."

"Okay, do we know if there is roof access?" Marcus asks the marine commander who's unit has been doing surveillance.

"Not that we are aware of. We have seen no one enter or exit from there."

"We will take out the perimeter guards but leave one or two alive for intel."

"Very good Grace. You can do this." Amy encourages her sister as she does the hardest work of her life.

"I want Daniel!" she calls out, knowing it is impossible but unable to help needing him.

"I know Grace. He is doing his job and you are doing yours." She nods, unable to speak. Another pain tears through her and she grabs Amy"s hand.

Within a few hours, working with the marines, they have the perimeter cleared. "Chief, Red, go check out the roof while we question these two. Cowboy, Rifleman, cover them."

Moving silently and invisibility through the early morning darkness, they approach the quiet house. From the back, they rapidly scale the fire escape on that side. They are covered by Rifleman and Cowboy, the marine sniper. They have no way of knowing the true danger is on the roof.

"Almost there Grace." Ainsley tells her as the contractions start coming two minutes apart, "you are in transition."

"I know." Grace grumpily calls out.

"It is the hardest but quickest part." She gently reminds her. She is unfazed by her anger. Everyone gets that way at this stage.

"I can't do this. I can't. I want to go home, rest, and come back tomorrow!" She is frantic as the pain becomes almost relentless.

"You are doing this. You can get through this. You are strong and your body knows what to do." Amy tells her.

"Errrr!" Yelled out as her body tightens up again, relentlessly pushing her children forth, into the world.

Daniel and Liam approach the roof, weapons hot. They scan the open area before climbing up the rest of the way. Special attention is paid to the places a person can hide. Seeing nothing, they enter the rest of the way with Liam taken point and Daniel covering him.

"I have to push!" Grace yells out about the same time.

"Fully dilated. Push as your body directs." Ainsley calmly directs. She has been monitoring the twins heart rates as Grace's labor progressed. She checks again as their mommy starts to push. "Very good Grace. Babies are doing well." Grace nods, to focused to talk. She has pulled herself into a squatting position with Amy"s support. "Very good. I can see a time sized amount of hair."

"What color?" Grace asks.

"Dark." Ainsley replies with a laugh.

While his children are being born, Daniel follows Liam up on the roof. They scan for threats and access to the house. Walking carefully across the flat roof, they know their six is covered by the snipers but they still feel horribly exposed. They approach what looks like a roof access door. As the cautiously walk up to it, there is a sudden, "boom!" An explosion! Daniel feels himself being pushed. He falls back ten feet hitting his head hard as his momentum is stopped by the hard tile of the roof. Everything goes black.

"Daniel!" Grace suddenly yells out. Amy gasps, knowing something has happened, having been through this with Willy.

"Grace push. Judah or Judith is ready to meet you." She focuses all her fear for Daniel on pushing. "Here comes the head, shoulders, and it is Judah!" Ainsley slips him on his mommy's chest.

"Judah Ethan Windtalker, hello happy birthday. I love you." Grace greets her second son through her tears. His hair is dark and curly but Grace sees streaks of red through the black. His skin is russet colored except his feet that are still slightly blue where his circulation hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are hers, clear blue, and very alert.

Daniel slowly becomes alert. His head is pounding and ears are ringing. It takes him a moment to reorient himself. When he does, he remembers the explosion and Liam. "Red!" He works his way back and doesn't see him at first. Finally he finds him laying limp on the other side of the flames. Working his way over, he walks around the fire to his fallen brother. "Red, can you hear me?" He falls down beside him. As soon as he sees his eyes, he knows he is gone. His brother's blue eyes look into eternity. He isn't here anymore. "Oh Liam." Daniel whispers through his tears. He pulls himself together enough to report to Marcus. "Boss, Red is down. There was an explosion."

"Down?" Marcus has a hard time excepting what Daniel is telling him.

"He is gone Boss."

"I need to push again." Ainsley tenderly transfers Judah to the isolette by the bed.

"Okay Grace, let's get Judith out." She tries to put aside her concern for Daniel and focus on delivering their daughter. "Good Grace, just like that."

Marcus and the rest of the Team join Daniel on the roof. The explosion has blown the roof access door open and the furious Team takes advantage of it. They head into the house weapons first, ready and very willing to shoot anything that moves. Within an hour, with the assistance of the marines, all ten terrorists are dead as well as, twenty other guards.

They spare no one and ate glad they find no women or children. The house is soon free of the terrorists and the premise, secure. The marines take over, searching for intel and weapons, so the Team can get Liam home.

"Here comes Judith," Ainsley excitedly announces. She slips the screaming baby unto her crying mommy's chest. Judith Erin Windtalker has her mommy's red curly hair but her daddy's eyes and coloring. She is as healthy as her brother. The babies weigh 5'1 and 5'0 respectively. They are 17 and 17 and a half inches long. Gorgeous, healthy, and loud. Grace is head over heels in love with them. She can't wait for Daniel to meet them then she recalls the feeling of danger and says a fervent prayer that he can.

"Please God, bring their daddy home."

The Team gently removes Liam from the roof. He is laid in the C 30 and a flag placed over him. His brothers sit solemnly around him, crying and praying for Ella and the children. They make a stop at Ramstead to get a casket. Daniel and the others take turns calling their wife's to prepare them for the visit Ella will be receiving.

"Daniel, oh thank God. I had the worst feeling that something had happened to you."

"I am okay baby. How are you and our babies?"

"Judah was born first. He weighs 5'1 and is 17 inches. He has black curly hair with a bit of red in it. He has your skin but my eyes. Judith is five pounds even and is 17'1 inches long. She has my red curly hair and your eyes and skin." She says with a smile.

"Oh man,I missed them being born. But they are healthy?"

"Very healthy. You are okay?"

"Yes, but Grace, Liam isn't. He was killed."

"Oh no! Oh Lord! Ella and those babies!"

"I know Grace. They will be informing her soon. We will be back home in six hours."

"Poor Ella." Grace is freely crying. Amy enters the room sees her tears, and thinks something has happened to Daniel.

"Grace!"

"Can you tell Amy?" She whispers.

"Yes, put her on." Daniel informs her about what has happened. "We will be landing in six hours and will be meet by an honor guard. Ella and the children will need as much support as possible." she assures him she is on it. "Thanks Amy for being there for Grace and the babies. Are they as cute as Grace says?"

"Cuter. Wait until you see them."

"Will be soon. Will you put Grace back on?" She hands the phone back to her. "I love you. I am sorry I wasn't there for their births."

"So was I. But I am glad you were there for your Team. I am so sorry about Liam."

"He was a great man. We will feel his loss forever."

Amy gets ahold of Willy and tells him about Liam. Her strong husband cries so hard she has trouble understanding him. They arrange for all the wives but Grace, along with Willy and Team Six to meet the plane bringing the Team and Liam home.

Amy gets Grace and the babies home and settled. Their Uncle Willy come over to meet them. He holds them and cries. Then they leave to welcome Liam and the Team home.

They find Ella and her children and enfold them in their arms as the plane carrying her husband and their daddy, lands. The Team carries his flag draped casket out. The flag he has died for. She approaches it and the Team stands at attention as Ella and her children touch the casket. Their isn't a dry eye among them.

Daniel makes it home to his wife and newborn children. He cries a different kind of tears as he holds them. Life and death all in one day. As he holds his children, he says prayers over them. Prayers for them, for Ella and her family. He prayers for himself and everyone grieving Liam's loss. He also holds his wife tight so happy to see her alright after the twin's birth. He spends two days with his family before Liam"s funeral.

#my writing #my oc's #learning to love #chapter 155 #birth and death #the military one

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collecting-stories · 5 years ago

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Enchanted - Crutchie Morris

A/N: canon-era newsies fic. Based on AKB’s Crutchie cause he’s too cute.

///

There was no denying that Crutchie, with his strawberry-blond hair and effervescent smile, was a sight to behold. The last bit of light illuminating a room through a window and warming anyone who stood in its path. Perhaps a little blinding at first glance but nevertheless beautiful and welcomed amidst the gloom of everyday life in New York. A vast and overpowering city, it was want to make you miss the farm you’d worked on before this but Crutchie made it a little more bearable, even if you only saw him briefly as you grabbed the paper and groceries for your employers.

“I really am starting to get used to the market,” you mentioned, bright and early as you skimmed the front page of the paper you were sure to purchase.

“I can’t believe theys don’t have ‘em up north.” Crutchie replied, sparing a smile for a lady that was passing. She slowed and he waved a paper in her direction, seeming to reel her in with it the way one might reel in a fish.

“I’m sure they do but there’s no need for them where I lived, didn’t make a lick of sense to be selling eggs to people who can already buy eggs. Not even milk delivery came ‘round.” You confided as you finally pulled a nickel from your coin purse.

“That’s too much,” Crutchie insisted, as he always did.

In truth it did cut into your income to pay him a full nickel or dime instead of the penny it cost for the paper but you weren’t bother led by it. The family you were in service to now boarded you in their home and you had no one to send your income to so it was solely yours.

“It’s a tip,” you insisted right back, “your smile is like the sun on a winter day Crutchie.”

Crutchie flushed a red so deep it looked threatened to match the beets in your basket. It dusted his ears and his freckles disappeared completely.

“Yous got a way wit words.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Crutchie.” You promised, tucking the paper under your arm and heading in the direction of your house.

You looked nice enough, plain of dress but he didn’t think anything of it. You had never said you were in service to the household where you lived only that you lived on Poplar street and Crutchie knew it to be richer folk. Not the Katherine Pulitzers of the world, surely, but richer than Davey’s family by leaps and bounds. All you had told him was that you had moved here from up north. You regaled him with tales of the white winters and the beautiful summers in the farming community. The woods and the vast amounts of green pastures everywhere. It sounded like a fairytale, a place too good to be true, like Jack’s Santa Fe. Why should anyone trade such an ideal for the overcrowded streets of New York? He was want to ask but it knew it wasn’t his place. He didn’t know you like that.

Crutchie has met you the first time you’d gone to the market, walking home frustrated and completely lost, you’d flagged the newsie and asked directions. He’d been hooked ever since. Jack told him that he gave too much of himself to others and that he ought to be careful.

“Tread lightly.” Were his exact words.

But Crutchie couldn’t be bothered listening. He was sitting up late at night scrubbing stains out of his vest that had been there since it was sewn. There was no convincing him to go about things slowly.

“Extra! Extra! Gold found in New York!” Crutchie shouted, waving his arm as he held the paper up. Down the street he could hear Racetrack shouting about a baby born with two heads. Impossible but Racetrack was just sure enough of himself to convince a person it might be true.

“Least gold makes sense, all those folks moving to the gold towns out west.” Crutchie had joked earlier that morning as he split a stale bagel with his housemate.

“Theys ain’t stupid, New York ain’t got nothing but rats and garbage.”

“But theys supposed ta believe a baby wit two heads?”

“I can’t argue wit the people Crutch. They like crazy stories.” Racetrack replied, stuffing the rest of the bagel in his mouth and swallowing it down with water.

“Just don’t go spreading ya stories on my corner. I’ll have ta soak ya.” Crutchie teased, pretending to whack his friend with his crutch.

Race was far enough away that he wasn’t pulling any business from Crutchie but he could still hear the over-sensationalised story being advertised to the folks of New York. Both boys would age of the lodge, and of newsie work, soon and they’d been talking about splitting rent with Finch and Mush somewhere near by. There were more than a couple tenement buildings around and Finch had already gotten a second job running machines at a factory near the Hudson. But before Crutchie threw in the towel on being a newsie he wanted to see where his chances sat with you. If he wasn’t hawking papers every morning you’d have no reason to see him, unless you wanted to.

That was the thing that Jack was warning caution with. Asking you out, confessing his feelings, it was all nice in theory but you had better prospects than a homeless newsie, especially one depended on a crutch.

“Crutchie!”

He sold off another paper and pocketed the penny before spinning himself to see you walking his way, waving as you got closer. You waved the way people waved ships out of the harbour, excited and joyful.

“Here for the pape?” He asked, already pulling one out.

“I am, I heard a story about a baby born with two heads but I suspect he was lying.” You announced, “what’s yours say?”

“I’s got gold in New York,” Crutchie offered, handing over the paper that did indeed speak of gold-fever outside the city.

“Golds tricky business. If it’s there it’s good but if it’s not...” you trailed off, your usual smile faltering just a bit as you took the paper from him.

“Ya ever seen any?”

“No, can’t say I have.” You perused the paper as usual, reading through the front page as Crutchie continued to sell.

“Before ya head off,” Crutchie began to say, drawing your attention away from the paper. “I’s wondered if I could escort ya home sometime?”

“I would love that,” you couldn’t help the smile that spread on your face. You’d been stopping to chat up Crutchie for a while now because you liked the newsboy. He was cute and charming and funny and while you were sure he flirted with everyone you liked when he smiled at you and flirted with you. “You could uh, walk me back today?” You offered.

You had been in the city long enough that you knew both the longest and the quickest route to get home. You took Crutchie the long way back, walking slowly as you did. All the rules about flirting you had learned from the kids at your last service. The shy looks, the accidental brush of a hand or a trip over air only to hold his hand, a sweet smile and laugh at everything he said. You disregarded all of those rules though, instead taking Crutchie’s free arm and walking with him along the street.

“Do ya like the city so far?” Crutchie asked.

“It’s nice...it’s always busy. I do like that this house has less kids, and less land.” You replied, “walking to get some eggs at market is a lot easier than wrestling with a bunch of chickens every morning. Or milking a cow!”

“Oh,” Crutchie said, “I thought yous lived on Poplar.” He was surprised to hear you say that you were in service. But more than that he felt a little more hopeful.

“I do, but I live in the servants’ rooms, off the kitchen.” You explained, “it’s a pretty nice job, all things considered.”

“I’m sure it beats being a newsie.” He replied.

“For me certainly, I’d be a lousy newsie...no one would ever buy a pape from me.”

“I would.”

“You’re too sweet to me Crutchie.”

“I mean it, nothing sells a paper faster than a beautiful face.” He replied, blush staining his cheeks.

“That’s why you sell so many,” you teased, leaning over quickly and kissing his cheek. You pulled away just as fast, watching the smile that took over his face.

The two of you walked the rest of the way back in silence, stealing quick glances at each other. When you arrived at your employer’s house on Poplar you led him to the side entrance, in the alley. The kitchen door was open and a few of the other workers were inside, pretending not to look at the two of you but glancing over curiously.

“Thanks for escorting me home Crutchie, I really enjoyed walking with you.”

“Maybe I could walk you tomorrow too?” He offered, holding your hand.

“I would really like that.” You said, kissing his cheek once more, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“See you tomorrow.”

Crutchie took the quick way home, heading straight for Racetrack’s corner to tell his friend that he owed him a dime. Racetrack had bet Crutchie that she would be too upper-class for him but two kisses and the promise to walk together tomorrow told Crutchie otherwise. He had won, more than just the dime he was already planning on using to buy you a bouquet of flowers for tomorrow.

More newsies.

#crutchie Morris x reader #Crutchie Morris imagine #Crutchie Morris fanfiction #Crutchie Morris fanfic #Crutchie x reader #Crutchie imagine #Crutchie fanfiction #Crutchie fanfic #newsies fanfiction #newsies imagine #newsies fanfic #newsies: the musical fanfiction #reader insert #collecting stories imagine #cs discography series

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buttered-ghost-toast · 5 years ago

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OC background story//Secondary Characters

1: i’m aware they’re sorta boring in a sense (literally all 3/4 profile busts lol) but I couldn’t be bothered to get super detailed about them yet. I was trying to work out a look, and this is the quickest way lol. Lots of mistakes here, don’t focus on that. Just...jive with me.

2: idk that anyone is going to be interested, but i’m happy with my little babies! :) This kept me busy lol.

Long post ahead!

Okay, so the band, Adria was formed sort of by accident. None of the members thought they were really going to get anywhere and were mostly just learning to play instruments and jamming to escape the pressures of adolescent life.

Niri--her parents were very strict and proper. “Yes, sir. No, ma’am.” type people who do what they can to keep up appearances. Her father is a police detective and her mother was a homemaker after the birth of her children, but was once an attorney. They expected the same level of success from their children, having picked out career paths before the kids were even a speck in the womb. When Niri and her older brother showed excellence in academics, they moved to a new city, enrolling them in an academy that was known for churning out high level success stories--Politicians, Judges, CEO’s of major corporations...you get the drill. They were happy to practically go into debt forever if it meant their kids would be successful.

Year 1...Enter KOU.

Kou’s dad was always business first. He expected his son to be the same. So much so that the day after the birth, he went out and bought a whole building to keep for his son, the future doctor, to house his practice. Being from an old money family, there was never a shortage of opportunities to rub elbows and make a way for this kid to be a success no matter what. Through years of primary education, he was a quiet kid, but there was something under the surface that loved to go against the flow of where his life was forced to travel. His mother passed when he was very young, but she was the reason he was able to have few moments of peace and fun. He and Niri were school rivals, fighting for the top spot on the scholar’s board, but...they wound up giving up the struggle when they realized they had a lot in common and neither really cared to pursue their parents’ dreams. They stopped attending after school programs and chose to graffiti and vandalize the building Kou’s dad bought while it was still empty. When they weren’t tagging, they were listening to “inappropriate music” and that soon became them teaching themselves to play the songs on instruments they bought...with Kou’s dad’s credit card. They didn’t sound bad after a while!

One day, the pair skipped school altogether to avoid an exam they had not studied for. On their way out of the academy, they were tailed by someone they never expected would keep their secret so well...

KRISS

Kriss and Kou are cousins. Their mothers were twins, so the two share a few features, but their personalities couldn’t be any more opposite. Where Kou is a grounded, sensible person, Kriss is carefree and...kind of an idiot. His mother raised him on her own and as a very open, artistic soul, she taught Kriss to always follow his heart and his dreams. He’s basically never been told “No” in his entire life. He was a very energetic kid, so his mother urged him to try out the drums (maybe it would tire him out enough for a nap) which he ended up falling in love with. It’s one of the few things he ever really kept an interest in despite being pretty flighty with his pursuits otherwise. Once he realized what his cousin was up to, he set up a drum kit within a few hours and was glued to their side ever since.

Kriss’s mom is the only person who really believed in the band from the start. She would be a big help through their early years and to this day has a reserved spot to watch them play shows whenever she wants (usually stage right).

Did I mention Kriss was part of the percussion section of the academy band? Well, it was more of an orchestra, but still. He felt there was something lacking in their sound during jam sessions so after a few weeks, he called up a few friends.

Vash

Vash is a complete wildcard. He’s the sweetest person you’ll ever meet, but it takes a while to realize that because his personality is quite...Sharp. He has no problem speaking his mind, never has, and he’s not afraid to call anyone on their BS. Does an expert job of providing entertainment with his outbursts. His first words when he dropped by the “clubhouse” were “so you expect me to play in this shit hole?” His mouth usually got him in trouble at school so he was somewhat happy to have something to occupy his mind so his mouth wouldn��t run so often. He’d been playing music for many many years, his parents both being famous musicians themselves, so he has mastered quite a few instruments and often provides backup vocals because “none of the rest of you dingbats can be trusted to stay on key.”

He is the glue that holds everything together and his honesty keeps everyone grounded. He expects everything to run smoothly and on time, so he was made leader of the band within the first hour. It’s effortless and he keeps his cool pretty well under pressure, but the one person who manages to make him snippy is Eri.

ERI

Eri is a mess of a human being in the most endearing way. He’s a walking contradiction and he loves to push buttons. He and Vash have been neighbors and best friends since they were born. They’re the Yin to each other’s Yang and act like an old married couple, always disagreeing on the most basic things. It has never been an issue and the others love to watch a match go down. Where Vash is hands-on and always on track, Eri is laid back and couldn’t care less if something goes wrong. That’s not to say he’s not passionate about their dream, he’s just more of a “Things will happen as they happen, just go with the flow” type. His easygoing nature lends him a very grounded and rhythmic personality...perfect for a bassist. His favorite thing is spending time with friends and being able to just do what his soul calls him to do. He does, however, absolutely hate attention. It makes him feel pressured to act a certain way or do a certain thing and it just clashes with his entire vibe. He broke out in a rash when they got their first major gig and had to do a meet and greet. He loves his fans, but...can they not want pictures all the time? “I look awkward when I smile.” He really does. The boy doesn’t smile, it’s always a grimace.

Eri’s dad owns a very successful restaurant and often got the band small gigs like birthdays and weddings that he was hired to cater for. He doesn’t understand what they’re hoping to do, but hey, the kids play some mean covers of songs he grew up on. Besides, if his son is happy, that’s good enough for him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- For the first few years, they snuck around and the others lied for Niri and Kou when their parents had questions. They couldn’t say they weren’t all hanging out together, so once things got real, they moved their practices to Vash’s house since his parents had all the equipment they needed and didn’t really care one way or another about what was going on, too busy with tours and things.

Once they graduated, it was harder to cover. Niri came clean to her father, her mother having found out shortly before but promising to keep it quiet if she just quit and focused on school. Her father was furious and demanded she cut ties with her “hooligan friends” immediately as she was set to go to college and become a lawyer like her mother. Niri refused and was kicked out of her home after being called a failure of a child. This only fueled her fire to pursue her dream. She called Vash, mostly to cry in frustration, but he met her at the front of her neighborhood saying “I just felt something was up with your dumb self so I came by to check. Good thing I did. Let’s go, you’re moving in with me til we figure all this out.” The two soon became three when they got an apartment with Eri two months later.

Kou had a similar experience once he told his father he didn’t want to be a doctor and had no plans to attend his father’s alma mater (which he only got into after his father wrote a very generous check being Kou’s grades had slipped to an abysmal level) he was removed from the premises by security, cut off financially, and removed from the will within 2 hours. The only thing he managed to keep (for a while anyway) was his car, so he hopped in and drove over to his aunt’s house and lived there for a while with her and Kriss.

During this time, they still had small shows coming left and right. One night after a few years of a rough grind with no money and shitty daytime jobs, while playing a local club (that didn’t even pay them by the end of the set), they met a small time producer who liked their sound and asked them to record a demo. The producer played the demo to a group of friends that called a separate group of friends and eventually their little song made it to the ears of a real band who had an unexpected opening in their roster for an upcoming festival tour. Adria got the call and had to scramble to get their set list ready. It wasn’t anything big, just a side stage gig, but the more stops they played, the bigger the crowds they drew.

When they made it home after several stops, they were met by the producer who found them, asked to record a whole album and from there they filmed a very low budget MV and soon after their first single was playing on the radio. They were asked to appear on small time local talk shows. They spread like wildfire once their second single dropped, played on stations nationwide. More MVs and a headlining tour followed with a second album set to drop. Kriss and Niri were asked to be part of a 6 episode arc on a popular TV drama and a second tour. It was a tough climb, but they’ve been at it for 15 years. Niri and Kou did go back home at one point and faced their parents, attempting to make amends and build a bridge. Kou and his dad are in a much better place now, the old building they used to play around in was transferred into Kou’s name and they now use it as their recording studio/ band headquarters.

Niri’s family reunion was a little less of a happy ending, in fact, it’s still a work in progress. Her mother apologized and they cried a little over the years missed, but her dad is a very tough man to get through to. He acknowledged he was harsh in his actions but still feels justified in what he did. He says if it weren’t for his tough love, Niri wouldn’t have felt the need to work so hard to get to this place in her life. He did at least say thank you when Niri handed him a check to cover the hit her parents’ savings took when her brother went to medical school. She has weekly calls and video chats with her mom and her brother often makes it out to shows and sends her snaps when he sees her on TV or hears the band on the radio. Her dad sometimes texts her “Heard your new song. It’s loud.” That’s his way of saying he's giving it a chance and doesn’t exactly hate it.

#butter's OCs #the band Adria #OC backstory

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risingphoenixrp · 5 years ago

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Date of birth: 1950., England

Occupation: Auror

Ship: Alice Fortescue

Biography:

CHILDHOOD

Herbert and Augusta Longbottom wanted nothing more than a child of their own, and after years of trying, they were finally granted their first and only. Frank was a happy baby who was loved beyond words-perhaps a bit too much. Herb, an auror, was often assigned long undercover missions in the muggle world which left Frank alone with his mother Augusta. Worried about her husband, Augusta made up for her anxieties by being very overprotective when it came to her son. As Frank grew, so did his bond with his mother, and by the time he was ready to leave for Hogwarts both of them cried. His co-dependency on Augusta was cause for teasing among the local children in his neighborhood, resulting in Frank being a rather reserved, quiet boy-perfect for showing off at his mother’s tea parties but not well apt to making friends.

HOGWARTS

All of that changed, however, when the moldy old hat shouted “Gryffindor!” Frank had honestly been surprised-he’d overheard his parents discussing what to do if he was going to be placed in Hufflepuff-but the bigger surprise was the built-in friends his newfound identity brought him. Arthur Weasley, Alastor Moody, Molly Prewett, Cleona O’Dempsey, none of them seemed to mind that he was close to his mum. In fact, the girls thought it was sweet. Frank’s first year brought him out of his shell, and suddenly, he never wanted to go home ever again. That changed, of course, when McGonagall summoned him at two in the morning one night close to the end of Spring term. Still in his pajamas and dressing gown, Frank was told gently and firmly while standing there in Dumbledore’s office, that his father had been killed in the line of duty. Bare feet freezing on the stone floor, Frank felt an intense grief settle over him that stayed for nearly two years. The rest of that year and his second are a blur in his memory, and it’s frankly amazing he passed his classes at all. But as much as Frank felt alone, he never was, not really. His friends closed ranks around him, Arthur and Al taking turns to stay up and finish Frank’s homework in addition to their own, Cleona threatening (and twice following through) to curse anyone dumb enough to poke fun and Molly constantly gifting him her first attempts at knitting-Frank still has a pile of the later dubbed ‘sympathy scarves’ in the back of his closet, and whenever he finds them Frank is filled with a now familiar warmth. That warmth, towards the start of his third year grew into something more. The more he watched and got to know Molly, the more he became convinced that he was in love with her-that her silly little crush for Arthur would go away and she’d eventually realize Frank was for her. Then again, the more Molly talked about her silly little crush on Arthur, the more Frank...saw her point. He didn’t have the vocabulary at the time to know what ‘bisexual’ meant, but all he knew is that when two of his best friends started dating in year four, it hurt like hell. He’d never been the jealous type, and any idiot could see how perfect the eventual Weasleys actually were for each other, but even now in adulthood, occasionally, seeing their perfect life together still stings. Then Cleona and Moody made things even more complicated by starting their dramatic tumultuous love affair in sixth year, leaving Frank as the permanent fifth wheel on one of those muggle ‘cars’ Arthur never shut up about. Despite the drama in his (lacking) personal life, Frank was an exceptional student. Though his mother was hard on him when it came to grades, Frank surpassed her expectations by getting enough OWLs and NEWTs to get any career he wanted. But it didn’t matter.

Frank Longbottom had some pretty big shoes to fill.

YOUNG ADULTHOOD

The Auror training program was one of the loneliest times of Frank’s life. The long hours meant that he barely had time to see his friends. Alastor was in the program with him, but his recent break up with Cleona meant the normally distant man had become downright surly and threw himself even harder into his work than Frank thought possible. Still, even with the exhaustion and the toll it took on his emotions, Frank left the program knowing he was doing what he was born to do. The job, weirdly enough, has its fair share of groupies, and Frank has dated several of them-men and women alike, since taking the position nearly ten years ago, but he still hasn’t found someone he can see himself settling down with. Frank’s married to the job, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. His work has made him an exceptionally skilled dueler and incredibly quick with his wand. He enjoys breaking in new recruits by going toe to toe in the dueling ring, almost always winning with a smile on his face and a hand to help them up. Forgetful, it’s not uncommon to see Frank hurrying off to a meeting with a trail of paper and objects behind him, zooming into his pockets as the elevator door closes. His smile, however, comes quickest of all. Though serious about his work, Frank is rarely serious about life, and he’s known for always being able to look on the bright side when things in the department go awry. That being said, sometimes Frank feels himself put on a front for everyone else, not wanting to let anyone down by letting them know what he’s really thinking.

Frank has also become an ambassador of sorts for the department, having recruited defunct Quidditch player Benjy Fenwick pretty much straight from St. Mungo’s and typically being the go-to partner for new recruits. There was a running joke that whenever Longbottom went to the hospital, he’d come back with a new partner, and Frank always went along with the joke and had never minded-that is, until Alice became his partner. Spunky, smart and hilarious, Frank couldn’t help but immediately like the impressive (and young) new recruit. That warmth, that dangerous (and stupid) feeling of a crush forming, creeps into his mind sometimes when he’s with Alice after a long shift, unwinding at a pub. Or when they’re on the brink of breaking a case and she smiles at him, proud when he compliments her. Or when he catches her laughing at a joke he’s told. Or when you know, she exists. Frank’s got it pretty bad for his partner, but he knows under no circumstances should he follow through. At best, he’d start a relationship with someone nearly ten years younger than him that could risk everything he’s worked his entire life for, and at worse?

He’d have to tell someone his feelings for them. Frank goes to work every day willing and ready to risk his mind, his soul, his body-but his heart? Not on your life. The office isn’t the place for affairs, and while Frank knows this, each time Alice touches his arm or looks at him a little too long is another crack in the hard outer shell of the positive, responsible Auror he’s worked so hard to become.

While Frank’s stance on workplace romances might shift, depending on circumstance, his stance on the war and who he’s fighting for never will. Frank joined the order the second he heard about it. While Dumbledore assures him that his work as an auror does more for the Order than he could ever imagine, Frank can’t quite shake the fact that his old headmaster underestimates him. Frank Longbottom isn’t the scared, barefoot, grief-striken eleven year-old anymore, and it’s time people learn it.

Frank’s grown. He’s trained, he’s studied, he’s fought. He’s proved himself.

And here’s hoping, one of these days, he’ll find himself.

Connections

Alice Prewett-Fortescue

Amelia Bones

Cleona O’Dempsey

Arthur Weasley

Molly Weasley

Benjy Fenwick

Kingsley Shacklebolt

Alastor Moody

Andromeda Tonks

Deadelus Diggle

Edgar Bones

Status: Open

#Frank Longbottom #marauders rp #hp rp #marauders era rp #harry potter roleplay #harry potter rp #open #ordero #Manny Jacinto

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worldcakecakecake · 5 years ago

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Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth, we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule, go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58 I Chapter 59 I Chapter 60I Chapter 61 I Chapter 62 I Chapter 63 I Chapter 64 I Chapter 65 I Chapter 66 I Chapter 67 I Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Feliciano was bandaged, numerous healing spells were placed on him that were still doing its effect, he was forced to drink potions, to try breathing exercises and to keep his mind calm with words that Kandake was there to spare.

“The twins are doing fine,” she at least let him know with a deep smile upon her last checking, one that was watched by many healers in the room, who surely held the same curiosity.

He was glad to know that despite the excesses in this war, his children had survived through the first wave. He gloomed once he knew there would be several more, worst now that Khaos knew about it. He brought his arms to wrap around himself as if he was hugging them, letting them know in this warmth that everything would be all right. He would protect them and do the necessary so they are born into the world he wishes to make for them.

As the healers considered themselves done with the Queen’s care, they began emptying the tent, leaving more space, more sight…to the King’s sitting, glaring, dark, imposing even with his own bandages, left without the strong symbols and defense of his armors.

It was terrifying, having Feliciano hitch his breath, refusing to look more into those piercing swords, the only comfort the caress he gave to the jewels, now new vines having begun their surroundings. Feliciano wondered if Ludwig was even blinking, as he kept a singular gaze towards him that didn’t give the slightest movement, no beating of breaths, no tapping, no pointing. Even as the tent continued its emptying, many leaving as they understood their royals were to speak on the coming heirs, he was frozen, even so when there was finally nobody there, their only evidence but murmurs outside. Feliciano sighed as it elongated with nothing, trying to hold an outpour of tears as he moved his direction to his husband.

“I…did something terrible, I know,” he admitted, hoping to hear Ludwig’s agree…yet he remained as he was. “I…I want to apologize but I know it won’t mean anything. You must be very angry and no matter what I say, it won’t change your mind on the fact that I dared come to war bearing our children.” It was the first time he said it out loud as such, and for once he drew out a breath from his husband, a calming one, a small glimpse of ease in his eyes, but he was still as fortified.

“But…you know that I couldn’t just stay behind…I couldn’t just let you all deal with this without my help. I knew…” he gripped his arm around himself tighter, “you wouldn’t let me go.”

No reply, no reaction, Feliciano thought his words lost in the air.

“…you should have told me…” Ludwig’s words were so meek, Feliciano had to keep his ears perked to have been able to hear it.

“I know…I know…”

No more words, no more glances or even acknowledgement. It was like neither was there, the words but those murmurs and movements from outside the tent. Feliciano let himself the tears, the whimpers, but he refused a leaning, still managing to keep a proud sitting, a caress to the jewels. Ludwig eyes fell heavily on them that moment, for once giving them the extended gaze everyone else had done on the finding. He constantly tightened the grasp of his hands, at one point his breaths became heavy to the point that Feliciano could easily hear them, surely the same thoughts Feliciano held when he had found out.

Bearing, now? In this war, with Khaos, with a future of uncertainty. Would he be strong enough to protect not just Feliciano, but the jewels that held his children? Would he be able to give them the lifestyle of princes or princesses afterwards? Could the world they’ll be granted be the one he always dreamed for his heirs, the one he himself lived? Could he face whatever Khaos will throw now in certainty to rid of them as well? Could he…oh but there was glow, a red, a small moment of love, devotion and sacrifice, oh so much sacrifice for them already.

He loved them. He already adored them and wanted nothing more than protection, their warmth, wanted them held in Feliciano’s arms, knowing that it’s where they would feel the biggest of love and power.

He would do that…he would grant them that…even if it meant…

“We’re leaving…” he decreed, standing, taking a jacket, his boots and beginning his wear.

“Wha-what? Leaving?” Feliciano looked up startled yet tears still coating him well.

“To Berlin. This instant.”

“Now? We can’t just-”

“Now! Feliciano! Get what you need now.” He headed out from the tent, already decreeing to anybody near, hoping that any could give them the sudden transportation, opening and navigation on quickest way back to Berlin.

“I need to be there by tomorrow morning,” he had told, and many had bowed and followed sure.

Feliciano had grabbed a jacket and cloak quick, still with stings, but pushed it aside as he followed behind Ludwig, trying to understand what exactly he was doing, trying to hold down any commands, for anybody to explain anything they knew. None of them did, yet they followed, for the Heartian King’s tone and eyes begged and angered in ways they knew it would end dangerous if they disobeyed.

Tino was the first one to bring them a pair of small silver dragons, surely from the Scandinavian provinces in Hearts, tied to a coach decorated Heartian. Many had already given them way so they could settle off.

“They’re the fastest dragons out there and will get you to Berlin by the morning you wish. They can be a little distracted, but I have talked to some of my men and they will accompany you to make sure they obey as they should.”

“Perfect. Are they ready to leave this instant?” He already took their reigns.

“Right away, your majesty.”

“Feliciano, get in!” He shouted, one of the Viking men opening the door for the Queen.

“Ludwig, I can’t just-”

“Get in!” He shouted, burning angry, growing taller, imposing with shades of darkness that made him as menacing…well…as menacing as Khaos.

Feliciano trembled, meek, small under his shadow. He tried to find exit in any of the nearing lights, dared to move away, but Ludwig’s fury had attracted eyes, worried, judging, their eyes still constant on the exhibited jewels in Feliciano’s hands. It pushed him forward to the coverage of the coach, grasping his hands in hiding, head down, not wanting to look at anything, not at the red and golden intricacies of the coach, nor at the majestic silver dragons or even as the surrounding weighted more with Ludwig’s entrance, sitting right next to his Queen, shutting the door with a loud bang, enough command in it to let the others know that they should begin flying or running or whatever these dragons did. In all honesty, he didn’t care, he just wanted to make it back home.

Words were shouted in different Scandinavian languages outside, and after mere seconds, the coach was being raised in the air as the dragons began taking their flight, others of the joker Vikings surely using their magic to stabilize the coach enough so it could fly well in its passage. Despite the rarity of such a mode of transportation, the constant movement of the coach as it flew above the battered land, the speed, the rush of the Club and Hearts kingdom under them, they remained silent, apart, looking down, their eyes not really fixed, they felt like they weren’t really there.

They arrived to Berlin at the sunrise of the next day. The sky was in a beautiful shade of oranges, blues and purples, the city silent, many surely still in their beds, unaware of the return of their royals. A maid who had been awake managed to spot the animals and the coach, coming from the distance, the joker Vikings on it signaling their descend and the presence of their King and Queen. She fretted and began waking and warning the entire castle. Many were up and standing, reaching the entrance courtyard, dressed still in their nightwear, including the former King and Queen. The coach landed right on their footsteps and before any ceremonious thing could start, Ludwig was out the coach, Feliciano following him as he wanted out of that trapped space and into the familiar sight of his castle.

It was odd for him to see something so pristine, cleaned, unfazed…when in the last few days he had been used to fields destroyed and continuing fires that were hungrily eating all.

“Ludwig, what is the meaning of this?” Aldrich fretted, coming before him and wanting immediate answers.

Ludwig moved past him, forcing Feliciano to do so as well.

“You’re both supposed to be dealing with Khaos back in the field!” Louis reminded hoping she could awake them.

They passed her as well. That’s when she noticed a shine in Feliciano’s hand, following it, finding the jewels and gasping at its knowing.

“Feliciano! What is this?” She shouted, now more desperate in her voice and going behind them, stomping and trying to be imposing even in the silk and simplicity of her nightgown.

“What, what is the matter?”

“I believe she saw the bearing marks on Feliciano,” one maid noticed as well, trailing behind the former king as he gave his own astounded rush behind the couple.

“Bearing! Feliciano! Are you really bearing?” Aldrich shouted.

The assembled went down the halls none the less, the King and Queen silent, Ludwig leading on, Feliciano with his head down, the shouts behind him only weighting more on his head, tempting to make more tears fall out. He tried to keep his hands under his cloak, tried to warm himself from a shiver.

“What is going on?” A new voice came, Feliciano ready to ignore as all the rest, but he couldn’t ignore those green eyes, couldn’t ignore the little hand reaching for him. Without even thinking, he came forward and picked his nephew in his arms, embracing, kissing, rocking and wanting to remain with him instead of whatever mystery Ludwig had in store.

“Your fathers are all right. They’re fighting so much for you and they miss you lots,” he whispered to the little one, who smiled unknowingly. “They love you, amore. And I love you very much too.” The little boy found himself wrapping himself completely on his uncle, and Feliciano let a hand caress at his small strands of wavy hair, the jewel now showcased and sure for all to see, who stood as Feliciano devoted to Augustino. The deepest gasp was of the caretaker, like a ring of alarm and Feliciano noticed what he had silently told. He only looked up to Ludwig, waiting, begging, not wanting to look at anybody else.

Wanting to avoid the questions that would surely come, he reluctantly had to give Augustino to the hands of his caretaker. He didn’t dare turn, he only walked on along the halls still shaded in darkness with Ludwig, leaving the others in accepted silence, remaining in their place with only wondering and hopes for answers later. Augustino yawned and looked ready to head back to his bed.

They went deep, pass unfamiliar halls, abandoned works and with darkness that had been there for surely decades. Feliciano reached a hand, hoping Ludwig could now tell, could turn to him different and say…everything was going to be all right. That’s what he needed, those were the words he wanted, but Ludwig kept moving away from them, kept hiding, only stopping once they reached a dead end.

“Why are we-” Ludwig passed his hands over what surely had to be some old encryption, the symbol glowing red by his palm, loud hinges, dust flying, a shake, movement…this specific square they were on began a descend down.

Feliciano by now was shaking, feeling colder, wanting nothing than a wrap of arms. Ludwig must have felt for it, for in a moment of compassion he came near and let those very arms take him, caressing, kissing a sort of comfort to his head. Feliciano adored this act, but it didn’t erase the questions, didn’t make the unease he felt go away.

The descend continued, through depths he didn’t think extended more than the other darkened halls of where the harp was once located. He wondered if he would even truly visit all the secrets of the Heartian castle. Each time there was something new, something to change and- it finally stopped to yet another hall. Ludwig let go, but keeping a hand to Feliciano’s own, moving forward without an ounce of hesitation, the Queen only taking small steps, until he noticed that the hall was circular, extending around another important room. The walls were in the expected reds, wines and golds, with paintings of several different Queens…all with their children in them. The floor was ornated with fallen pillars, vases or statues, with dust, cobwebs and cracks that signified the rarity of such a hall being used. They turned in what seemed infinite circles, but finally they met with a large deep reddened door, one that they only but had to push to be introduced.

It was a large circular room as Feliciano expected, beautiful, with frescos, rose curtains, a round bed with clean sheets and blankets, ornated as wonderfully. A particular thing was the glass dome that took its ceiling, in a sunset gold, woven with vines designs that really didn’t offer a view to something particular. A light surely from the sun came down, illuminating the room in a kind warmth. How in this deepened room could it reach was Feliciano’s question.

As he looked around to what the light showcased, he noticed many shelves filled with all kinds of blankets, magical jewels, potions and…toys…clothes and blankets…mostly for newborns. This… he realized… this was once a birthing chamber…it was a place that they had built to gather as much comforting energies as possible to make it easier for the birthing father or mother, private, away from any eyes that could bring danger, until they knew it was safe to bring the infant prince or princess to the higher towers and the real glow of the sun.

“The last one to use this room was my great grandfather, only for the healing and calming magic around it. He was brought up to the castle with opa right after the day he was born. There weren’t really threats and much of the healing magic here they managed to transport to other rooms up in the castle…and after him, the castle just didn’t find it useful to keep coming here. Still, under some strict rules and scheduling, maids come here from time to time just to make sure that the sheets and towels are fine…in the event the time could come to use it again,” Ludwig easily told as he spun the room, inspecting. Feliciano expected more an explanation, yet silence elongated.

“Why did you bring me here?” The question was now clear, with no distraction or even noise.

Ludwig found himself gripping an old decorative column, turned away and not even at this mentioning did he meet his gaze with the other.

“They…won’t arrive now…I’ve only been bearing for about a month,” he reminded just in case, but Ludwig remained as he was.

Feliciano gave a frustrated sigh, “Ludwig, millions of people are risking their lives at the field right now and it’s heavily important were there too for if Khaos returns. The alignment is in a matter of days and we cannot waste time silent like this…” the words echoed, but their spread didn’t produce a response either.

Boiling anger began, Feliciano deciding on keeping a grasp to his cloak so he wouldn’t rail on in it. “I told you once that it hurts when you distance yourself away from me…when you hide and don’t tell me what’s going on.” It stung like it used to, producing tears and shivers. Those whimpers got Ludwig to finally turn, approaching with such love that Feliciano couldn’t deny as it wrapped around him, as it turned his head and kissed with thousands of passions, coloring and making Feliciano obeying to its ignition, mending back, hands over each other, but especially on their necks and hair, intensifying such a powerful kiss that didn’t even make them notice as they reached the bed, as they were laid, as if they were in peace, as any other day in the castle that they dedicated to their devotion. That vivacity in their gazes, that warmth that settled, those caresses on each other trusting, not controlled, they seemed to follow their own path of love.

“I once told you…I would do anything…absolutely anything to keep you safe…to make you happy…” he took his hands and brought it to his lips, that promised shouted enough. He caressed the jewels with loving intention, wanting to whisper endless love for them as well. “…even if it means not having me… I would rather die than let anything happen to you…”

Feliciano only saw defeat in that expression, raising his hands to caress at the side of his face. He noticed the reddening of Ludwig’s eyes, edged with tears, ones that he easily wiped away with the soft pad of his fingers.

“No…there is no need…you die, I might as well die myself.”

Ludwig sighed, “you’ll find your way.”

“No! I won’t!” He brought him down and held him tighter, bringing him away from such faith. “Why do you even say that? Nothing is going to happen, Ludwig! We’re going to be fine! Everything is going to be fine.” Yet he whimpered those words, falling at his own tears, joining Ludwig’s own, both laying and keeping their hold on another, tighter, tighter, tighter and tighter, their comfort and their revolve. They wanted nothing else, they wanted no more thoughts sketched with worries, on twins, on Khaos, on alignments, on whether it was to be victorious or even not. They just wanted this wrap and let everything else crumble away.

Somehow between that panicked fest, they breathed again, they eased, they could speak. “I like… Alexander…and Heinrich…if they’re girls…I like Analiese and…Giovanna…” Ludwig whispered tenderly, in such softness Feliciano couldn’t avoid smiling to.

“Hmm…I think I prefer Alessandro though…and I always wanted to have a little Bella…I like Isabella.”

Ludwig chuckled against his neck. “Fine…two boys, Alessandro and Heinrich. Two girls, Analiese and Isabella. One boy, Alessandro, one girl, Isabella. Promise?”

Feliciano didn’t understand, but in the sweetness, in that smile and enchantment in Ludwig’s eyes as he raised to meet their gazes once again…he nodded and uttered, “…promise.”

Ludwig leaned to his forehead, keeping the uttered well on his mind to make him sure.

“When…I found out about what it meant you being Augusta’s great grandson,” he began, voice soothing and lulling that kept Feliciano relaxed, “…I…prepared for many things…for the alignment, for you…for if we had heirs…and…I told myself to stay true to them no matter…even if most changed and it ended…with marrying you and truly showing you my emotions…but now…” It felt like there was more that needed to be told, but there was a new care in his eyes that drove him more into Feliciano.

“Augusta herself once used this room…”

There was actually a painting of her with her own twin boys, the children looking glowing and beautiful…but Ludwig could read misery in the eyes of this representation of Augusta.

Feliciano didn’t seem to notice.

“I love you. Dearly, infinitely and the power fitted for a king,” he leaned and kissed Feliciano into a lost of that depth, hazed to the point that Feliciano swore he could only but look at the colors of this love, surely in their kingdom symbols, hypnotized and stranded that it took him a while to notice that Ludwig was no longer on him.

“Lu…Ludwig…” he called, reaching, trying to awake. By the time things could become solid in his vision, Ludwig was already near the exit, a hand on ancient jewels and encryptions. He had already begun a spell, whispered and not a word for Feliciano to understand from the distance. He glowed powerful, eyes shining in deeper reds with even darkness in between, symbols he had never seen on him began to glow and Feliciano knew he was working on something powerful.

“Wha-what?” He managed to sit up, to begin easy steps forward to him, but it was just as the entire room glowed in different ancient symbols, spreading all the way to the very dome, initiating…a sort of shield, coming down in quite a beautiful shade. Yet Feliciano trembled, fearing that it could fall upon him, a singular voice, sounding too similar like Augusta saying: ‘He’s doing it again…he’s doing it again!’

“What is he-” he found himself asking aloud, hoping perhaps Ludwig could explain this time, but as he turned to him, he noticed that Ludwig was now out the door, the symbols on him dwindling…only making sure that the shield came down as it should.

“He’s not…he’s not…”

“So on the day they were supposed to leave to fight, to be ready to face Keron near the field…Romulus refused Augusta to come along in deep fears of losing her…so…he used power of the validity spheres to keep her, along with their twins, locked in the Heartian palace so she wouldn’t come along and so she could stay safe.” Feliciano could clearly hear Elizabeta’s voice as she had once told it, realization coming, dashing, running, trying to get out before the field landed on the ground.

“Ludwig! Don’t! Stop this, stop it this instant!” He screamed, but it was useless.

“Don’t touch it!” Ludwig warned, but Feliciano clashed into it as it sealed. The shot was like lighting, burning strongly on the skin of his forearm despite the cover of his jacket. He fell and whimpered at the intensity of this pain, raising his sleeve to see a burning mark. Luckily nothing reached the jewels and vines, but it tainted and gave enough warning and mock over what just occurred.

��“You didn’t…you didn’t…please tell me you’re not doing this…” he managed to beg as he set the wound aside, standing and looking forward, hoping for a sort of instant escape.

Ludwig just stood at the other side, the magic from the spell he just used still dwindling, but there was a determination in him that put enough blame.

“Ludwig…raise this shield now and let’s go back to the field!” He sounded hard even with hisses of pain, of more tears threatening, gripping his hands. Ludwig didn’t move.

“Ludwig!” Feliciano called out again.

Ludwig’s hand kept a shaking raise that made Feliciano think he was close to following, but he ended up forcing it away and continuing to stare him down with that decree.

“…No, I won’t.”

“Ludwig, please!”

“I cannot let you risk your life and our children’s’ like this.”

“It’s my duty!” He exploded in a scream that was almost maddened, unlike anything Ludwig had ever heard him in. “Even as I am bearing, it is prophesied that I am that one that has to defeat Khaos. You’ve seen me practice, you’ve seen how powerful I can be, you know I’m the only one who can stop him…” how he wanted to punch and kick with all his might at the shield, but the shimmering colors only reminded him more of the ache that could come. It only seemed to make the wound burn more.

“You have seen me prepare as well. We have read all the books we got from Khaos’s library and I have found out more about the dark magic I possess that could help me to single handedly defeat him. You don’t have to be put at risk…you don’t have to die…” there was so much hurt in those eyes, as if the very words had become true.

“Ludwig…” it was hard to soothe no matter how he tried, but he just had to make him understand, “I’ve seen the paintings and murals they did of what Khaos will become, Augusta has giving me nightmares and the Clubian royals read to me the writings. They’re terrifying and unlike anything we can expect or imagine. This alignment will be different, and he will surely turn into something more monstrous than what I’ve seen. Millions will die and all the kingdoms will surely perish if I’m not the one to stop it. Please don’t let this happen! Let me out this instant and I assure you nothing will happen to me…I’ll be safe, I’ll…I’ll…” with how worn and tearful he looked, he doubted he proved that image of strength he wanted to be.

Ludwig looked on with no changes, with even a turn ready to leave. “I’ll deal with it…at whatever price.” He began his paces to leave.

“You know what happened to Romulus after he did this exact same thing!” Feliciano shouted, broken, wishing that he didn’t have to say it, looking above as if to stop the form of tears, as if trying to blind himself with the light and not see the images these words tried to implant on his mind.

Ludwig stopped, entering fully in the hall, as if he was already surrounded in the voids of death…but learning to be acceptive, expressionless and still.

“You said it yourself…things can be different this time.”

“Not like this…not like this…” Feliciano was surely using magic to keep himself standing and from falling in pieces to the floor, the last look Ludwig had of him being anger, fear and shredding, holding to his cloak to cover himself from these constant shivers…from coming apart.

“Everything I have done and will do is for you…” the last words and he was off.

“What have I told you about trust! About believing in me!”

Ludwig continued.

“This will cause us our doom, Ludwig!”

Nothing.

“Ludwig, please, this time I can’t go after you! Please come back! Please, please, please…”

By now Ludwig had rounded the corner and his vision was gone. Feliciano released the hold of his cloak, losing control, walking forward to the shield, testing his palm, feeling burning heat that felt numbed with each step he heard Ludwig take away.

“Ludwig! Ludwig! Ludwig!” He screamed to coughing, power began to burn in him and with the last call of his name, he surged and attacked the shield with the most potent of his fires…the shield only brightened in colors and nothing else.

“Get me out! Get me out!” His cloak was gone, most of his jackets were gone, trying to use as much space and extend of his body to use whatever powerful ace magic he possessed to crash against the shield. He heard the gears of the elevator moving upwards, and by now he had become a beacon of pure red and fire light in constant battle. Even Ludwig could see the hellish glow round to his part of the hall, the last colors before he faced his ascend.

In desperation, in only agony and tension, Feliciano was taken by an impulse to take one of the near vases and swing. It exploded to pieces with the magic and it only gave him more a testing to throw pillars, shelves, towels, toys, curtains, even the bed, throws of powerful magic being combined with the destruction of any items in the room. He screamed, his throat hoarse, tears scared his face, the shield remained as it was, shouting at him warnings of what could come, warnings that beckoned him down, made him kneel and bow before the misery.

By the time Ludwig had reached the normal commute halls of the castle, he met with the others, waiting as desperate as he left them. They reached, already starting with their usual questions, but the most common ones: “Where is Feliciano?”

“The old birth room,” he admitted coldly.

“What is he doing there?”

“Should we get him?”

“I’m sure the coach can wait.”

“I’m leaving without him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ludwig, I insist he goes.”

“I placed a new validity sphere shield.”

Silence, he walked on as the others halted, crashed with the intentions, slow to reach an action, letting Ludwig carry on to the exit.

“You cannot let this happen!” His grandmother was the first to rush in fury, a walk quick and deadly that seemed ready to execute.

“Ludwig, what are you thinking? You know the war needs Feliciano!” Aldrich joined his wife.

“You can’t expect to deal with this by yourself!”

“I am just as capable, and I prefer to not be underestimated at this moment. I will stop Khaos myself and Feliciano will not have to bring himself to the misery that can come if he were to fail.” He was out, the coach still in its wait. The joker Vikings who held it were also as questioning for the King’s return without his Queen.

“You are a fool yourself for underestimating Feliciano.”

“I’m only trying to protect him!”

“At the cost of the kingdoms!”

“I will not let that happen!” Ludwig in his anger, caught his grandfather by the collar, pulling him in such an ache that Aldrich feared some sort of lash. Ludwig, at noticing such release, breathed, letting his grandfather touch the ground again and moving aside, heading into the coach, command in his stare and signals to leave back to the field. Aldrich was left breathless at such an impulse.

“Ludwig…think about what happened to Romulus when he did this very thing…are you sure you want this to happen?” Louis said with a reached calm, hopeful yet, the rest joining in her raise, in their beg that Ludwig would give an answer that would mean his return to get his Queen.

The King remained, no movement, no vivacity. He only shut the door decided, leaving the rest in shaking fear, broken as if Khaos was right at the entrance of their city ready to inflict darkness.

“I’m willing to deal with whatever the consequences.”

The dragons began the lifting of their wings, the Vikings placing the necessary spells on the coach.

“The birthing room work as it used to. Anyone can walk in and out. You can see Feliciano if you wish…but I recommend you don’t do so this instant.”

The coach was off high in the skies, to the known distance that would lead to the Club Kingdom, back to the war, to what was to come, the stars above them coming closer and closer to their align. The near servants held to each other, whispers of death to come, some already whimpering, others beginning a lost of color, one that they had tried to glow red with hope, go grey. The former king and queen were desolate, nearing to each other with a hold that tried to comfort, forced to believe, but it was all like a goodbye, a horrible goodbye that tainted a future. Louis whimpered and fell herself, fearing that it could have been the last time she saw her grandson.

As they stared to those stars, they desperately hoped that history wouldn’t repeat itself. For the life of their king, things had to turn out different.

#Feliciano and the King of Hearts #gertia #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic #fatkoh #f&tkoh #I wish I had a joke since it's ch 69...but I got none

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blackcoffeeandteardrops · 6 years ago

Text

Every Little Thing

It has been approximately 87 years since I’ve posted anything I’ve written. I want to blame being busy, but honestly a lot of it has been writer’s block/procrastination. In any case, I present to you a fic in which Tony and Pepper are happy post Infinity War, & then a minor emergency occurs. The kind a lot of expecting couples might have to face, ya feel? Under the cut & on AO3:

"We are not naming our child Destiny, if it’s a girl,” Pepper said, rubbing her growing belly. She and Tony had been bickering over baby names for the better part of twenty minutes, ever since she’d woken up from a much needed nap to see him sitting next to her, a book of baby names in hand. It was strange in a way, seeing Tony dive into something with such intensity, much in the way his brain tinkered when it came to his work with the Avengers. The baby wasn’t even born yet, and he was already studying as much as he possibly could. There were nights she’d wake up to him studying the latest parenting book he’d purchased, a far cry from the nights he’d slave away in his lab. Not that he didn’t still do that from time to time, but ever since Thanos had made half of the world’s population disappear, Tony had backed away from being Iron Man, at least within the public eye. “I don’t want her to be a stripper.”

“That’s prejudice, Pep. I’m sure there’s lots of lovely girls named Destiny that aren’t involved in that field. Not that I would know. And hey, you admit you think it’s a girl,” he said, grinning as they walked into the living room. “Do I win the bet if it’s a boy like my dream?” “One, I didn’t say it was a girl. And two, if this is your way of bringing up Morgan as a potential name again--” “What? Morgan is a great name, and it’s good for a boy or a girl,” Tony replied, watching as her shoulders sagged. He reached out his hands, massaging her shoulders gently, not missing the way she all but melted into his touch. He leaned in close, planting a kiss on her forehead, breathing in deep for a second before pulling away. “I’ll be back in a second. Just going to pop the popcorn. Don’t start the movie without me.” “Tony?” she called after him, holding onto the couch for balance. She’d been tired more often than not lately, but the sudden dizziness she felt was unexpected. Still, she plastered on the most serious face she could muster, wanting her request to be made clear. “There’d better be extra butter on that popcorn when you come back in here.”

Tony arched a brow, laughing softly to himself. “Pregnant you suddenly has a craving for junk food. I like it,” he said before turning to the kitchen.

Pepper laughed, resting a hand on her growing middle as she rounded the couch. As she did, she was met with a rolling wave of nausea much worse than in her early stages of pregnancy. She drew a sharp breath, closing her eyes against the walls that suddenly began to spin, and the last thing she remembered before her knees buckled was that she really wanted to sit down.

Moments later, Tony rounded the corner, bowl filled to the brim with popcorn tucked under his arm. "Extra butter, just like you requested. Did you decide what we're--" he stopped, immediately forgetting the popcorn, all but letting it crash to the ground, kernels falling everywhere as he ran to Pepper's side. Seeing his pregnant wife on the ground was more than enough to cause him to panic, but he took in as much air as his lungs would allow, willing himself to remain calm and assess the situation. "Honey. Hey, Pep. Come on, open your eyes." he pleaded, his fingers pushing back her hair to get a glimpse at her face.

Slowly, Pepper did as he asked, frowning in confusion as she realized she was staring up at the ceiling. "What happened?" she asked, trying to sit up.

"Easy," Tony warned her, slowly helping her sit up as best he could. "The best I can tell, you tripped or something, bumped your forehead on the way down. Now come on, we're taking you to the hospital to get checked out. Besides, you're getting blood all over my carpet," he said, wincing at the cut on her forehead.

"Your carpet? Tony, I'm the one who picked this carpet out. And besides, I feel fine," Pepper replied, drawing in a deep breath as another bout of dizziness washed over her. "I don't want to go to the hospital when it's just a minor cut. You've earned far worse cuts in your lab & just nursed them at home."

"Okay, fine. No hospital. But I'm going to ask FRIDAY to run a full scan on--"

"Tony, no. You said you'd never do that. When we got married, you said--" she paused, leaning into him as he helped her stand, groaning in protest as he all but ordered her onto the couch. "You spilled the popcorn. We just cleaned in here."

"That's what you're worried about? Hon, you just fell down, and--" he stopped, panic crawling up his throat as the color faded from her face and she again closed her eyes. "Alright, nope. We're not doing this," he declared, clapping his hands together. He'd told her there'd be no hospital, but he knew now that was something he'd have to make up for later. This was more than a simple trip, and he needed to get her to the closest hospital before he was too late. He pressed his palms to his closed lids so tight stars exploded in his vision, and he tried conjuring up the quickest path to get there. "Fri?" Tony called, all but barking out his command.

"On it, sir," FRIDAY replied, moments later telling him the quickest way to go.

The hospital was only minutes away, and due to Pepper's pregnancy (and, if Tony was being honest, his celebrity status), they were shuffled through and into a room far quicker than they would have been otherwise.

"I'll be fine, Tony. We both will be," Pepper insisted, watching as a nurse who collected a vial of blood from her left the room. "Will you please sit down? I think you scared her."

"She should be scared. They all should be, if they can't find out what's--"

"Tony, come sit down. Please?" Pepper pleaded, pushing herself up onto the pillows with as much strength as she could muster. She waited until he did as she asked to continue speaking. "We're going to be fine."

Tony watched as she smiled, cupping his cheek as she tried her best to reassure him. Her face was pale and had lost much of its color, and though she was doing her best to keep up in the conversation, he could tell she was tired. He clenched the edge of the bed with one hand and squared his jaw, staring off into the distance for a moment before focusing back on her. "I can't fix this, Pep, I can't be the one that fixes whatever is going on here. And that--" he darted his tongue out, shaking his head as if doing so would keep the negative thoughts at bay.

"It scares you?" Pepper asked, quirking a brow. She reached a hand out, signing in relief when he curled his fingers protectively over hers. "Honey, you can't fix everything. And you shouldn't have to. The doctors here are smart, they'll figure it out. And you just have to sit here, and be my husband, and accept that, okay?" she continued. "And maybe get me some water."

"Water! Yes, I can do that," Tony replied, clapping his hands together as he moved to the pitcher of water a nurse had brought in moments before. He watched as Pepper closed her eyes. It was only a moment, just her resting, but it left him holding his breath until she opened them again.

"Tony?"

"Hmm?"

"You're spilling the water."

He jolted back, noting how he'd overfilled the cup they'd provided. He wiped the table down and got the water back in order, and by the time he did that, she closed her eyes again. A few seconds slipped by and he watched as her chest rose and fell. His eyes drifted to the swell of her belly, and he marveled at the life growing inside of her. They'd already lost so much, Tony thought. They had to get through this okay.

When the door opened next, a tall doctor with her hair pulled back stepped through. She explained Pepper experienced an iron deficiency, which was likely the cause in part for her fatigue, along with hypoglycemia. Coupled together, the two contributed to her fainting and subsequently having little strength, but the doctor assured them that with the right medications, food intake, and plenty of rest, she'd be back in working order soon.

"I'd like to do an ultrasound while you're here. Given our exam, it's unlikely the fall caused any damage to the baby, but I'd like visual confirmation," the doctor said, waiting for Pepper's approval before proceeding as planned.

"See?" Pepper said, giving Tony's hand a squeeze after the doctor left the room to retrieve the machine. "I told you we'd be fine."

"You're right," Tony conceded. "But of all things to have a deficiency in? I mean come on, Pep--"

"You can't seriously be making this about Iron Man right now, really?"

"I'm kidding, honey. A little dad humor for the kiddo in there," he replied, gently rubbing her belly.

"I love you," Pepper replied.

"Remember that when you're pushing this little lady out, hmm?" Tony mused, leaning close to press a kiss to her cheek.

"We don't know that it's a girl yet," Pepper replied, already knowing he'd gloat if proven right.

"It could be half alien for all I care, I'll love them anyway. Although, Miss Potts, you'd have a lot of explaining to do if that's the case. I was in space for a few weeks, busy trying to save the world from destruction and all, but I hardly think that would give you time enough to--" he was interrupted by her pressing a finger to his mouth, urging him to be quiet.

Moments later, Tony watched as a nurse spread cold jelly across Pepper’s stomach. He knew their baby would show up on the screen when she pressed the wand to her skin, but even so he held his breath, staring in awe at the tiny human that wriggled before them in black and white. His childhood had been far from ideal, his father not exactly a stellar example of the way a dad should act, but he could only hope to be half as good as his kid deserved, which would be at least two times better than Howard ever was to him.

Pepper listened as the nurse explained what they were looking at, taking measurements as best as they could, and she let out a sigh of relief upon hearing the baby appeared to be fine. “I told you, Tony, we’re okay,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“She takes after her mom. She’s tough that way,” he teased, his shoulders feeling lighter than they had since the whole ordeal had started.

“That seems to be the case, Mr. Stark. She’s lucky to have the both of you as parents,” the nurse agreed, finishing up with what she needed to do with the scan. “What did you just say?” Pepper asked, taken aback.

The nurse looked between them both. “I’m so sorry. Given what he said, I assumed the two of you were already aware...I can show you if you like, while the gel is still on,” she said, moving the wand just so and pointing to a particular spot on the screen.

“You don’t get to gloat about this,” Pepper said once the nurse had left.

“About what? Being right? I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, only half kidding. He reached forward, moving a strand of hair from her face. His fingertips grazed the bandage they’d placed on her forehead, sucking in a sharp breath. “How you feeling, Pep?”

“I’ve felt better,” she conceded. She closed her eyes for a second, sighing in exhaustion. When she opened them again, she wasn’t at all surprised to see him looking back at her. “We’re going to have a daughter.”

“I know,” Tony replied, his face growing serious. “I’m going to have to deal with a mini you.”

“Really? I thought we were having a moment there,” Pepper replied, crinkling her brow, only halfway pretending to be offended. “And besides, if the way this little one kicks about at night is any indication, she’ll definitely turn out like you.”

He smiled, shrugging as he was for once left without some kind of witty response. That he got to call Pepper his wife and that they had a daughter on the way seemed impossible after the horrors he’d faced, but if he had anything to say about it, the world would be a safe place for them both. Still, it almost didn’t seem fair that they could have this, given how much had been lost. “Hmm?” he asked, realizing she was waving her hand in his face. “You were staring off there for a minute,” Pepper said, not having to guess too hard at where his mind had gone. “You still miss him. Of course you do, honey, and that’s…” she stopped, shaking her head as tears burned her eyes. She hadn’t known Peter as well as Tony had, but she’d seen how hard he’d taken that loss. “You’ll find a way to bring him back. To bring them all back.” Instantly, Tony began shaking his head. “I can’t risk this. I can’t risk losing either of you,” he said, gripping her hand and resting his free one on her stomach.

“You’re smart. You’ll figure out a way to do it. And even if you don’t, it’s going to be okay,” Pepper replied. She knew him well enough to know the reassurance from her would only go so far. He’d likely always have some what if thoughts, unless he truly did find a way to fix things, but she wanted to try her best to help him keep it all at bay, at least for a while. “I’m going to get some of that rest they said I should get before they decide to discharge me,” she said, scooting over just a fraction before lifting the blanket up. “And you’re joining me.” “As you wish, Miss Potts,” he replied, truthfully too tired to argue. Not that he would, he thought. Resting with his wife and child was exactly where he needed to be.

#pepperony #pepper potts #tony stark #morgan stark #avengers #infinity war #fanfic #i made dis

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