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just-a-quirkless-loser · 4 years

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Invective Pain

Alpha Bakugou x F!Omega Reader

Words: 2.4k

Requested by: @goatsenpaiultimate

Hehe, sorry for the wait you guys. It’s been a rough few weeks for me. Also, the song ‘Butterfly’s Repose’ by Zabawa is amazing to listen to while you read this💜

Warnings: harsh language, Bakugou being an asshole, angst

“Get the fuck off me.”

“Alpha, please.”

“I said, get off. What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been too clingy,” you prove his point and cling to his arm.

“I miss you,” you try to nuzzle his neck so he can scent you. With your wolf quirk, it was getting harder and harder to stay away from Bakugou for long periods of time. Your instincts were on hyperdrive, always wanting him within your reach so you knew he was safe.

“Don’t you understand what ‘no’ means?” Bakugou tenses up as you continue trying to climb his body. Due to his inability to express himself, he’s still not used to your affections.

“I can’t help it,” you ruffle your tail to prove your point.

“Well, try harder to help it.”

“But, alpha-“

“No, I’m sick and tired of your bullshit. As soon as I come home, you want to climb all over me. I can’t even take a fucking shower,” you hunch into yourself as you take a step away from him. Looking back on it, he did have a point. You could stand to at least allow him a few moments to himself before you bombard him. But, it’s just hard on you.

Because of your quirk, you’ve always been the type to cling to people and try to protect them. You miss your parents because you considered them to be your pack but, that all changed when you met Bakugou. After a few months of dating, you moved in with Bakugou (your inner Omega told you she’d love to start her own pack with him). However, it’s been a difficult transition.

Bakugou normally takes your clinginess in stride but, it’s been hard for him lately. All he wants to do is take you underneath him and nuzzle you and treat you like a queen. But, he’s been dealing with this case. It’s been stressing him out and he’s never been the type to deal with stress in a correct way.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, I- FUCK! Omega. I just can’t keep doing this. You’re fucking annoying. This was a mistake. We shouldn’t have moved in together,” his words stung in your mind like a swarm of hornets, making you yelp in your mind. Although, no one would ever be able to tell your inner turmoil from the calm look on your face. Why does he have to tear you down with his words? What does he gain from your dissociation? Does it bring him satisfaction to win the argument? Even at the expense of your heart? The same heart he swore to protect when he chose you as a mate.

“I’m sorry,” and you don’t understand why. You just stand there with a blank expression, no longer feeling that your heart is safe in his hands. And, that is worse than losing an argument the two of you have.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it. I’m tired of you sticking to my fucking side like a toddler. You’re always hovering over me. I need space,” you intend to give him all the space he needs. “Selfish extra.”

He doesn’t know what his words do to you as he goes to the room you share, bumping you out of his way. You want to cry, you want to chirp, you want to-to-die; without him-without your alpha- what is there to live for?

Your omega crawls to your heart, shriveling up like a raisin as if your soul has been sucked by a vacuum. You feel your heart drop; the first sign of Omega Depression and you don’t tell Katsuki. How can you?

He made it clear how bothersome you were in his life. You never meant to be a burden to him. All you wanted to do was love him and give him the love he lacked from his teenage years. But, it’s transparent that you’re not wanted by the person your soul has imprinted upon.

You sit on the couch, staring into nothingness. What did you do wrong? What was so wrong with wanting to love him? You feel weak. Maybe if Katsuki had someone stronger, someone who could take his invective words in stride, he’d be happier.

As you wallow in your own pain, Katsuki is upstairs taking a shower. Part of him feels relieved to finally have some space to himself and the other scolds him for what said; he barely remembers what he said to you exactly. All he knows that your face is blank so, he assumes it’s not too bad since you weren’t crying.

He walks out of the shower expecting to see you but, he’s greeted with an empty bed. He figures you just want space to be angry so, he lets you stay downstairs.

‘It’ll be fine tomorrow,’ it won’t. As he dozes off to that thought, you were downstairs stuck in your mind. It's your fault for always forgiving him after he’s verbally ruined you You just thought your love for him outweighed anything he said to you. But, your unconditional love has reached its limit.

You wait till he falls asleep before you break the facade (you still want him to get his sleep so he can wake up healthy tomorrow). You heave and whimper as you curl into a ball on the cold living room floor. You shake from the force of your tears, tears falling like rain in the spring. You’re trying to smile to stop the tears but, your mouth ends up in a horrible grimace as you silently berate yourself. Your hands scrape at your arms, nails taking patches of your skin as a way to distract your mind. You don’t sleep that night; you don’t sleep for any of the nights that follow.

When you hear your alpha’s alarm clock sound, you climb on the couch with your face smooshed to the cushions. Katsuki follows his nightly routine, not even checking to see if you’re okay. He just gets dressed for his patrol and leaves breakfast on the table for you, kissing your hair goodbye before he leaves out the door.

You’re once again crying as you just lay there. You don’t bother to call your job to notify them of your absence. If anything, you just lay there, your tail curled around your body as if it’s protecting you from the world.

You feel useless against your heart because you know you shouldn’t have allowed Bakugou’s temper to get to this point. You had suggested therapy and anger management to him many times but, he was persistent in telling you that he had it under control. You knew he thought seeking therapy was weak (as he thinks most things are weak) but, you just wanted him to think before he spoke.

You can tell that he’s tried to do better for you and you appreciate that but, it’s not enough anymore.

This was the last straw. Not because you still don’t love him but, because you’re now in your Omega’s Depression. It’s a fairly new phenomenon. The doctors warned Omegas and Alphas that their second genders could drive them into a comatose state if the genders were met with unfavorable conditions. Your omega has started the process and you can only hope that Katsuki figures that out before it’s too late.

At first, Bakugou didn’t think anything about your attitude. He just thought you were giving him space (which he hated. It feels weird to him to be alone when he was always with you and he’s too prideful to admit that) however, he knows something is wrong when you start to avoid him.

You don’t talk to him like you use to, you don’t cook his favorite spicy ramen anymore, hell, you don’t even come to bed anymore. It’s like two strangers living in the same house (well, roommates would be more accurate). And, he misses you.

“Why are you sleeping on that shitty couch?” He’s standing above you with his arms folded, head to the side so he can hide his blush. You don’t respond, dried tear stains on your cheeks.

“Not gonna answer? What you’re too good to speak to me?” He squats down to eye-level. His breath fans across your face, the smokey caramel of his scent bringing more tears to your eyes. “Omega?”

You still don’t answer. He takes that as you still being angry about the argument; he also notes the change in your scent.

“Tch,” he walks to the bedroom and comes back with a few blankets so he can make a small hammock beside the couch at your side. He slips into the covers, hand upon your waist so he can feel you. “Goodnight, Omega.”

The next day, you’re still in the same spot on the couch above him. He does his routine, this time spending longer at saying goodbye.

“I’ll be back, Omega. Cuddling wouldn’t be the worse thing when I get home,” you stare blankly.

“And, I put some of your favorite cookies on the table,” still nothing.

“I love you,” nothing. And, that’s how he knows that everything is wrong. He spends the day on patrol, withdrawn from his hero-work. All he can think about is that blank look in your eye, the stillness of your home, the taste of failure on his tongue.

‘I fucked up,’ he sure did.

He comes home and you're still in the same spot. He doesn’t even think you got up to use the bathroom. You’re the first thing he attends to when his boots cross the threshold.

“Omega, you need a bath,” you don’t move so he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bathroom. Your body is sweating and that stench gets even worse. “Omega, I’m sorry.”

But, sorry doesn’t fix everything. Sorry is nothing when you truly hurt someone. Sorry is when someone feels obligated to correct their wrongs (not because they want to). Sorry is the Black Licorice of apologies.

“Have you gone to work?” No. He knows you haven’t but, he just wants you to talk to him. His alpha cries for his mate yet, she doesn’t respond. “Baby?”

The bath is spent in silence as you sag on him. His hand's card through your (h/c) hair, trying to release some of your tension. It’s such an intimate moment of him caressing your body as though you are a precious work of art. His lips latched onto the mating mark on the side of your neck, reminding you that he cares.

When he gets you out of the tub, he dries you with your favorite fluffy towel. His carmine eyes gaze at you adoringly from your navel, blonde hair resting against your belly. One in a while, he’ll kiss your legs and feet, silently showing how much he truly cares for you.

Night rolls around and you both follow the same routine as before; you’re laying on the couch and he’s laying beside you on the floor. You’re not eating and that terrifies him. Sadly, this goes on for another month. And, Katsuki is growing desperate to have his omega back.

“I allowed my anger to do this to her- to me-to us. And, now, I don’t know if I can help her anymore,” he joined an anger management group (which, coincidentally helped his public image as well) after he realized the argument caused the rift in your relationship.

And, you’re proud of him on the inside, even if you can’t show it. At least he’s trying but, your omega just turns a blind eye to his efforts. You commend Katsuki for not giving up though.

‘It must be hard trying to change and improve for someone and they don’t even acknowledge your existence,’ you do feel bad for him. It seems that your love does outweigh his words.

But, you’re dying. He knows it. You know it. It’s known. He just won’t accept it.

“Omega,” you’re unconscious. He came home from the weekly session to find you unresponsive (well, more unresponsive than what you’ve been). “Omega, fuck-please-I God I, please wake up.”

 So, you’re at the hospital now. The antiseptic burns your sensitive nose as you’re propped up on the hospital bed, sheets crinkling under your body. The doctors told Bakugou that you didn’t really have long to live but, he just can’t allow you to go without trying his best to save you.

“Omega, please, look at me,” you look at him but, it’s like you’re not seeing him. Your eyes don’t have the shine they used to. “Omega, please.”

You can’t answer him. What if you said the wrong thing? You were clinging to life by a single strand of fiber, death clinging to your scent. You knew you couldn’t handle it if Katsuki’s words hurt you once more.

“Please, talk to me, yell at me. Hit me. Do anything,” you can’t. Your voice is stuck in your mind. “Get mad. Throw something. Spit on me! Push me away. Shit, anything. Please just please please pleaseeee, fucking, please. PLEASE I’M NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO BE WITHOUT YOU. Please stop looking like you want to die.”

“But, I do,” you hope he can understand.

“NO! NO NO! I FUCKING NEED YOU. I LOVE YOU,” he chokes on his words as he gathers your face in his hands. “I’m such a piece of shit. It takes you dying for me to realize how much I love you. But, I do. I love you so much it hurts. I can’t lose you.”

“Wipe your tears,” you brush your thumbs across his cheek to gather his tears. “I’m right here.”

“How can you love me still? Your will to live is fucking weak and it’s my fault! And, I’m sitting here asking you to hold on for me. You don’t even have to speak to me. Just stay here. I promise I’ll stay here with you. You can’t leave me.”

“Bakugou-“

“For fuck's sake, It’s Katsuki to you! I did this to you. I’m so sorry for what I said. I’m sorry for pushing you away when I felt I didn’t deserve your love. I’m sorry for making you feel the pain I felt all these years. I’m sorry for being a shitty alpha,” he cries in your lap as you pat his back. Your omega stores, crooning to help her alpha. You’re not dead; the future may look bleak but, you know it will finally bring you the love you longed for.

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spooderboyandtincan · 3 years

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You’re Gonna Miss Me

(When I’m Gone)

Read on Ao3

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

Tony doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

That’s a lie. Utter bullshit. He’s lying to himself. Tony knows exactly why his heart is fluttering in his chest like he’d run a marathon, why his chest struggled to rise like there was twenty pound weight rested on it.

Though to be fair, when he made an anonymous donation of a meager 50,000 dollars to Midtown Science and Technology, he hadn’t expected Peter’s decathlon team to put in a request to the school board to travel abroad, and he definitely hadn’t expected the school to immediately approve it. He thought they’d use it to replace the sudsy water in the bathrooms they called soap with the real stuff or some shit, not whisk his kid away to Vienna for a whole week where Tony couldn’t even hug him, couldn’t protect him.

Peter is thrilled, though. Ecstatic. When he’d broken the news to Tony and May, he’d been over the moon with excitement, his round cheeks flushed pink and his eyes gleaming. Even two weeks ago, Tony had felt a deep sense of apprehension kindling in his chest, but with the date seemingly so far away, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind.

He wishes now that he’d done something. He should have told Peter he couldn’t bear to be without him like he was an actor in a cheesy soap opera (it was true, he couldn’t); tell Peter he needed him on a “mission” that would mysteriously be canceled. Though they’d probably end up taking a plane or a suit to Vienna anyways (despite what he liked to say to Rhodey, he was not at all immune to Peter’s puppy eyes); hell, he should have purposely tripped on the stairs and broken his leg so Peter, sweet, kind, empathetic Peter, would immediately decide to stay by his side where Tony could keep him safe.

He missed Peter when he was at his apartment in fucking Queens, thirty minutes from Stark Tower. He didn’t know how he’d handle having him 4,222 miles away. He didn’t know if he could.

“Damn,” he hisses, pushing himself from his bed with a grunt and making a beeline towards Peter’s room. He dashes in. The sight of his sleeping son (read: lump of blankets) is enough to take his breath away.

Tony had missed him. It had been four hours since he’d tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, and Tony had missed him. Peter was fifteen feet away.

This trip is going to be the death of him. He’s going to drop dead of a goddamn heart attack before Peter even gets on the plane.

Tony sinks carefully onto the mattress and rests his hand on the boy’s neck, some deep, parental instinct in him immediately soothed by the slow, steady beat of his pulse. Peter is curled under the thick blue blanket, only his chestnut curls visible which are tinged blue from the Iron Man nightlight on the wall, his breath puffing out in those little snuffling snores that Tony absolutely adores.

He leans down to kiss his temple, inhales the familiar scent of his favorite strawberry shampoo and is overwhelmed by the wave of infinite love that washes over him. He loves this kid so much it sometimes hurts.

Leaning back, he smooths his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone. He doesn’t want to leave the boy’s side. He doesn’t know if he physically can. Maybe asleep Peter has somehow sensed this, because there’s a small mewl from the bundle of blankets, and two bleary doe eyes flutter open.

“T’ny?”

“Hey,” Tony whispers, running a hand through his curls. “Hey, jellybean. Sorry I woke you up.” Peter rolls over with heavy limbs and rubs his eyes with a fist in a childlike motion, yawning in a way that resembles all those yawning kitten videos he’s made Tony watch.

God, he’s adorable, Tony thinks. His heart is melting. He’s so small, so young. Tony feels an instinctual, almost uncontrollable urge to protect this kid, to wrap him in his arms and keep him from harm for the rest of time.

Peter is oblivious. “‘S… s’okay,” he mumbles. His hand sneaks out of the blankets and tugs on his arm lethargically, which the genius knows is sleepy Peter language for “cuddle with me.” Tony chuckles fondly and slides under the covers.

He props himself up on an elbow and gazes down at his beloved boy, stroking a finger down his cheek. Peter smiles sleepily up at him from his assortment of pillows. “Hi.”

His face splits into a wide grin. “Hi, Pete.”

Peter frowns at him then, a sudden change from his drowsy, half-asleep state. “You… you ‘kay? Wha’ time’s it?” He tries to sit up, but Tony hushes him gently with a “Everything’s okay, bud, just a typical 2am visit from your friendly neighborhood Iron Man.”

He smiles, so Tony counts the joke as a win. It’s not one of his best, but hey, forgive him if he’s a little anxious about his kid going to another fucking continent.

(He refuses to acknowledge that it’s not just being away from Peter that’s stressing him out, it’s the fact that anything could happen to him while they’re apart.)

Tony looks back to Peter, opening his mouth to talk, only to find that he’s completely conked out. He balls up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and wipes the line of drool tracing down the boy’s chin away, finding that a soft smile has formed on his face, the one that only makes its appearance around Peter.

Peter snuggles into him the second he lies down, resting his curly head just over his heart. Tony wraps a protective arm around his back and rubs small circles on his soft blanket hoodie. “G’night,” he whispers, bending to kiss the top of his head. “Sweet dreams, baby. I love you.”

He can feel Peter’s heartbeat thumping steadily against his chest- can hear his soft kitten snores. The warm weight of his body is so comforting that for a moment he thinks that maybe, just maybe, this trip isn’t going to be the end of him. That everything’s going to be okay.

~~~~~

Peter’s starting to regret eating all those waffles for breakfast. He feels shaky all over, like he could collapse or throw up any second. He’d told Tony he was going to pop in the bathroom, but he’s been in there for at least ten minutes, settled back on his heels on the cold, grimy floor of an airport bathroom, trying to breathe properly.

Speaking of Tony, he can hear the man just outside the door, typing on his phone and sipping from a cheap cup of coffee. Peter immediately experiences a hot flash of guilt, realizing that he must have grown worried while he was gone.

Sure enough, the door swings open and there’s a soft knock. “Pete? Everything okay, bud?”

Peter stands up and unlocks the stall. “Tony,” he sniffles, taking an unsteady step forward. Tony rushes forward and gathers him in his arms

“Whoa, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he says gently, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “You’re okay, Pete. Breathe, just breathe, bud. It’s okay.”

“I don’t-” Peter whispers. “I don’t know, Tony, I-I wanna go, but I can’t, I don’t know w-what to do.”

“Breathe, honey. It’s okay, I’m here, we’ll figure this out, okay? You just gotta take a breath, alright?”

Peter tries- fails. Tries again, and manages to gasp a breath in. “Sorry,” he croaks, when he can properly breathe again. “Tony, I-I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” Tony murmurs, squeezing him tight. “Nothing to be sorry for, Pete.” After snatching a paper towel and soaking it in the sink, he runs the scratchy cloth over Peter’s face and kisses his forehead when he’s done. “Okay, bubba. You wanna go back out or stay in here?”

“Out,” he replies without hesitation. The flickering white lights above are starting to give him a headache, not to mention the leaky faucet and the freezing tile floors and the faulty air conditioning. Tony leads him out with an arm around his shoulder and guides him to a little nook, where they both plop down on a neon green beanbag.

“My parents died in a plane crash,” Peter whispers.

Tony squeezes his shoulder. “I know buddy. I’m sorry.” Unlike a lot of the “sorries” Peter has heard, this one is sincere. Sometimes he forgets that Tony is an orphan too.

“I- I mean, logically, I know the plane won’t crash,” he continues, “But I guess it’s still hard for me to believe that. Like a- a gut feeling?”

The man nods in understanding. “I know how you feel, kiddo. I was terrified of cars after my parents died- I took the subway everywhere despite the paparazzi bloodhounds.” Tony doesn’t broach the subject of his parent’s deaths often, especially not in a crowded public airport, so Peter makes sure to pay attention.

“Then, the fear just kinda… vanished.” He wiggles his fingers dramatically. “I started driving without even thinking, didn’t realize I was in a car ‘til I got on the highway. I had to pull over when I did, but since then, I’m perfectly fine with cruisin’ at 80 mph. But,” he says seriously, meeting Peter’s eyes. “I think you should listen to what your gut’s tellin’ you, buddy. It’s important to listen to yourself- what inner you is saying.” He pokes Peter’s belly a couple times for good measure, which makes his face scrunch up adorably.

Peter nods, and really tries to listen to his gut. The pair both go silent in concentration, and then- his stomach grumbles. They both burst into laughter, born more from nerves than hilarity.

“Inner you wants to eat,” Tony snorts. “I think I saw a place with the biggest blueberry muffins of my life by the escalators, wanna stop there?”

Despite eating a huge stack of waffles just hours earlier, Peter wolfs down two of the gigantic blueberry poppyseed muffins, much to the amusement of Tony.

They made their way to the gate, where Peter’s teacher, Mr. Harrington was lounging, dressed in an ugly red sweater, his long legs stretched in front of him.

“Peter!” he cried as he spotted them, scrambling to his feet. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I had the wrong date! We’re leaving today, right?”

“Oh, yeah Mr. Harrington, we’re going today!” Peter laughs. He’s used to dealing with his scatter-brained teacher. “I’m actually here early, the plane’s supposed to leave at 1:00.” He gestures vaguely to the big digital clock over his head reading 11:54 AM, EDT.

Mr. Harrington frowns. “I thought it left at 8 am! You mean I’ve been here for hours in this awful chair when I could have been sipping a piña colada in my jacuzzi?!” He collapses back in his chair and pulls a sleeping mask over his eyes with a sigh.

“Sorry, Mr. Harrington,” Peter chuckles, then pulls Tony to a row of uncomfortable seats in the corner of the waiting area.

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, just watching the various travellers rush past. A little girl, around two or three, comes up and shyly asks for Tony’s autograph, but no one else recognizes the genius. (Thanks to his foolproof disguise of a baseball cap and scarf covering up his iconic beard, the genius claims.)

“So, what are we thinking?” Tony asks after about half an hour. “Do you wanna go?” He secretly hopes Peter will say no, hopes that they can go home and binge watch all of the Star Trek episodes and fill their bodies with junk.

Peter nods hesitantly. “I think so. I-is that okay? I might change my mind, but- yes. Yeah, I think I want to go.”

Tony squeezes his hand. “Of course it’s okay baby, that’s perfectly fine. If you change your mind, you know what? That’s great too. Whatever you want, that’s what’s important.” He kisses Peter’s forehead and lets his hand linger for a moment where it rests on the boy’s cheek. “If you change your mind at any point, I’ll come pick you up, okay?”

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter breathes, slumping heavily against his side.

“Of course, bud. Anything for my Peter.”

They stop for lunch at a cozy little coffee shop, which is thankfully devoid of fans and paparazzi. Peter orders (or rather, makes Tony order) a small hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows and whipped cream) even though drinking a lot before a non-stop ten hour flight is probably not the best idea. (He can’t help it. He’s nervous.)

When the pair gets back to their gate, they find Ned and his family. The boy’s greet each other enthusiastically, performing their signature handshake, while Tony simply throws up a peace sign to Ned’s rather stunned parents.

The friends pull out their phones -probably playing one of those ghastly animated games that Peter is always quoting. Tony pretends to look busy on his phone, but really, he’s just trying to distract himself from the terrifying fact that he’s not going to see Peter for a week.

Too soon, the speaker crackles, a crisp voice announcing, “Attention. We are now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria. Now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria.”

Tony’s heart stops. Peter freezes.

No, they think at the same time. Not yet.

Peter turns to Tony, panicked. “Hey,” the man says, pushing away every anxiety, every worry away so he can focus on his kid. He sees Ned approach them, but stop when his father places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Breathe, baby, it’s okay.”

“Tony.” Peter wraps his skinny arms around his waist.

“I know, baby, I know.” Tony kisses the top of his head and hugs him close. “Follow my breathing. You’re okay. We’re good.”

Around them, the members of the decathlon team are rising, but Tony and Peter sit in those unforgettable chairs, clutching each other tightly, not yet ready to let go.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Peter whimpers.

“I know kiddo, me too. I’m gonna miss you so much, but I’m always gonna be here, okay? If you need me, just call, or text, use morse code, doesn’t matter. I’m always here for you.”

“I’m here for you too,” Peter says. “I- I’ll call you every day.” Peter’s bottom lip is trembling, just barely, but enough for Tony to hug him a little tighter and kiss his forehead. “I love you, Tony,” he sniffs.

“I love you too, Pete. I love you so much.” Tony’s not crying. He’s not. The restaurant a few stores down is just cooking onions, that’s why his eyes are watering.

Peter pulls away and grabs his duffel bag, taking a step toward the loading dock. Tony tries not to burst into sobs. Stay, his mind whispers. Please stay.

Then Peter turns around, eyes full of tears, and slams straight into Tony’s chest, hugging him so tight he can barely breathe. Tony rocks them back and forth, cherishing everything about his sweet boy. When they finally break apart, Peter says, “I’ll be back before you know it,” echoing what Tony has said to him so many times before he leaves for a business trip.

Then he smiles a watery smile and runs to catch up with his best friend. Just before he disappears into the loading dock, he turns around and waves wildly at Tony.

Tony waves back, grinning. “I love you,” he mouths.

“I love you too!” Peter mouths back, and steps into the dock.

“I love you,” Tony whispers, hastily wiping the dampness from his eyes. “I love you, Peter.”

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

Taglist: @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12 @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny @tinystark-blog @bittersweetbeneath

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know! (also, i think i missed a few people, and a few usernames have been changed, pop me a quick message so i can add you again!)

#chapter 1/2 #peter parker #tony stark #ned leeds #anxious thoughts #panic attacks #peter parker needs a hug #peter parker gets a hug #tony stark needs a hug #tony stark has a heart #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #other tags to be added #no st*rker #st*rkers dni #my writing

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

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June Contest Submission #22: Left in the Dark

Words: ca. 4,000 Setting: Modern AU, Airport Lemon: No CW: None

A flash of lightning brightens the whole sky once more. Four seconds later, the low rumbling of thunder pierces the pattering sounds of rain hitting the large windows of the airport. The glass is working especially hard today to keep the raging storm at bay, and it doubles as the only source of light in this massive blackout.

Elsa presses her palm against the cold glass. All around her, people are expressing their fear over how long this blackout will last, calling loved ones to tell them their flights have been delayed, or are meeting this darkness with great indifference. She envies all these people, wishing she could feel something that isn’t gut-wrenching guilt.

When she pulls her hand away from the glass, her imprint from the condensation trickles and fades moments later. The last update they received before the power went out was that the weather conditions would be keeping all planes grounded for at least four hours. If people chose to catch a flight tomorrow instead, they’d be reimbursed for the inconvenience.

A lot of people chose that option, but Elsa decided to wait. She didn’t want to spend any more time in Denver than she needed to.

An hour later, when the power went out, everyone including Elsa who decided to stick around began wondering if they made the right choice. She jumps as she feels the phone in her back pocket vibrate. Hesitantly, she pulls it out and is relieved to see that it’s just a message from her mother, telling Elsa to be safe no matter what she chooses to do.

It’s not like she’s stranded in unknown territory, she still has a couple of friends from college in the city who might let her stay over for a night. And if that fails, she has enough money for an Uber ride and a hotel room. But the stormy skies aren’t the only dark clouds in Denver that she wants to leave behind, so it looks like she’s staying.

Air traffic workers outside are desperately setting up flares and other alternate sources of light on the airfield, and no doubt the airport’s technicians are working to get at least the backup power working. They won’t stay in darkness for too long, she hopes, even if it feels somewhat calming at this moment. But what else can she do to pass the time for the next few hours? Text her friends and hope they’re up for a three-hour conversation? Edit her resume? Take a nap while snuggling her backpack and duffle bag to keep anything from being stolen?

“Wow,” she says, speaking her first word since yesterday. “My life really is just one big pile of nothing, huh?”

Her existential crisis is interrupted by the gentle plucking of guitar strings that cuts through the torrential silence. It’s familiarity compels Elsa to grab her things and find the source of the melody, and though her hearing is heightened by the darkness, she uses her phone’s flashlight to guide her way so she doesn’t step on anyone. The guitar strings guide her along and bring her closer before they’re accompanied by another sound: a sweet, gentle voice comfortably singing the lyrics to the song.

Ooh thinkin about all our younger years There was only you and me We were young and wild and free

The girl singing it sounds far too young for the lyrics to pertain to her, and yet her alto voice still carries a reminiscent feel to what she’s saying. Elsa follows the secret siren up to the aisle she thinks she’s sitting in, just as the girl reaches the chorus. Though she keeps her voice down to a near whisper, Elsa can’t help but sing along as well.

Baby you’re all that I want when you’re lying here in my arms I’m finding it hard to believe we’re in Heaven

However, the music stops before the chorus ends and Elsa is left singing the last three words by herself. She purses her lips, mortified, taking a step back just in case she’s told to get lost.

“Why’d you stop singing? Your voice is really pretty.”

Now, Elsa’s even more embarrassed. She has enough common sense to realize the voice asking that question is the same voice that brought her here, but not enough to keep from shining her phone’s flashlight on her. Fortunately, the light only gets up to the girl’s chest before Elsa yelps and turns it off. Which isn't that much better, but she’ll take any victory she can get right now.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you heard me,” Elsa replies.

The girl chuckles, “Was I not supposed to hear you?”

“No, I mean I don’t know, I-I…” Elsa sighs, “I was embarrassed, I guess.”

“Well how about you stop being embarrassed and sit down?” It’s such a gentle command that Elsa doesn’t realize she could have said no until she’s used her phone’s flashlight to find an open seat right next to the mystery guitar girl. “So are you a big Bryan Adams fan or do you just know that one song?”

Darkness paints the corner they’re in and keeps Elsa from getting a good sense of who she’s talking to. It makes for one of the most interesting conversations she’s ever had. “Oh, I only know a couple of his songs, but I wouldn’t say I’m like a huge fan. A-are you?”

“Not really, but I’m a sucker for those classic love ballads, you know?”

Elsa nods before realizing she’s not going to see that. “Yeah, I know.”

She hears the woman adjust in her chair and the guitar strings squeak as she runs her fingers along the frets. “Alright, let’s see if you know this one.”

Before Elsa can ask what she’s doing, there’s a gentle yet deliberate strumming of the guitar strings unlike the soft fingerpicking from before. And once again, the woman begins to sing a song that Elsa’s quick to recognize.

And I’d give up forever to touch you Cause I know that you feel me somehow You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t want to go home right now

“I know this song too,” Elsa interjects with more excitement in her voice than she’s expecting. “It’s by the Goo Goo Dolls, right?”

The woman stops her singing, much to Elsa’s unexpected disappointment. “That’s right, Iris.”

“A-actually my name’s Elsa.”

“What?”

“Hmm?” Elsa cringes, realizing her mistake. “Oh gosh, you weren’t calling me…you were saying the name…of the song.”

She prepares herself for the laughter, but it never comes. “Elsa, huh? That’s a really pretty name, I like it.”

“You do? I- wow, that’s…I mean, thank you. For that.” This is so strange, she’s usually much better at talking than this, she has a degree in it for goodness sakes. But there’s something that’s keeping her tongue-tied and ruining her common sense. Maybe this woman really is a siren. “I’m from Rhode Island.”

“Elsa from Rhode Island,” the woman says like she’s trying to make sense of those words in that order. “Well you’ve got a very pretty voice, Elsa. My name is Anna. From Arizona.”

Anna. The name fits, even though Elsa doesn’t actually know anything about her, not even what she looks like. “Nice to meet you, Anna from Arizona.” Though they’re in the dark, Elsa can feel that Anna’s smiling at her. Maybe because Elsa’s smiling too.

“Alright, you’ve established your knowledge of the oldies…” Anna begins to strum a soft, basic chord progression. “Let’s see if you know something a little more modern.”

Elsa’s not a music expert in the slightest but she still listens intently, if only to hear more of Anna’s beautiful voice. When she begins to sing, they’re lyrics that Elsa doesn’t recognize.

I hear the beast, its awful cry, but never see its face I feel the water coming down, it’s keeping me in place And in this stormy weather, though I should be so afraid I’m with the one who makes it fade away

Anna continues to sing, and Elsa is torn because she doesn’t know what this song is but she feels like she should. The voice accompanying the words make them sound much more beautiful and earnest, but the song is unrecognizable. When Anna begins to hum instead of sing, Elsa admits defeat. “I-I think you win, I’m not sure what this song is.”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” Anna says, abruptly ending the song. “Because it’s one of mine.”

Elsa gasps, “Not fair.”

She can sense the victorious grin on Anna’s face. “Hey, it’s a modern song. I started writing it today actually, well okay maybe writing isn’t the best word for it.”

“You wrote that today?” Elsa asks. “Have you written any other songs?”

“Yeah I’ve written a few, some of them are actually pretty good too, I think: Whenever I’ve got something in my head, I pick up my guitar and record my thoughts. I’m not trying to be the next Taylor Swift or something, but it…yeah it helps.”

A flash of lightning paints the windows and illuminates Anna’s silhouette for a moment, not long enough or bright enough to see any details other than the shape of her hair. It surprises Elsa when she realizes just how much she wants to see what Anna looks like. A minute ago, she didn’t even know this woman existed and now she finds herself considering the stupid idea of shining her phone’s flashlight on Anna’s face. Because nothing says “good impression” like blinding someone.

Another realization hits her, though it’s more of an unhelpful observation: Has it really been so long since she’s been attracted to someone that she’s falling for a random woman at the airport with a beautiful voice and nice…manners? Pathetic, she doesn’t actually know anything about Anna other than she writes songs and is from Arizona.

Hoping to at least remedy that, she searches her mind for something to ask. Something casual but informative. But Anna beats her to it.

“So Elsa from Rhode Island, you’re a long way from home, aren’t you?”

Elsa nods out of habit as thunder roars outside the airport walls, “Uh y-yeah, just a little bit yeah. And you’re…not that far from home, Anna from Arizona.”

Anna giggles like Elsa said something funny. “No, well not yet. I’m actually going to New Jersey and figured I’d save some money by taking a couple of connected flights instead of flying straight there. My parents are renewing their vows and of course they want me to be there for the ceremony. Remember that song I was singing? Heaven? That’s actually their song and I’m gonna surprise them by playing it.”

“That’s really sweet,” Elsa replies, relieved that she bit her tongue before making a joke about New Jersey. She hears a tap on hollow wood and the squeak of guitar strings as Anna slides her hand across them. She eagerly anticipates another song, but instead she gets another question.

“What about you? Any vow renewals waiting for you in Rhode Island?”

Elsa giggles, but it’s not as pretty or confident as her companion’s. “Ah no, there’s nothing…waiting for me back home.” Wow, that answer was much more depressing than she wanted it to be. Even if it’s true. “Well I mean there’s my parents. And my apartment. I guess my job counts too but other than that, there’s nothing else.” She feels like she’s making things worse.

“Oh dear.” There’s a heaviness in Anna’s reply, but Elsa doesn’t hear any pity which she’s grateful for. No one should pity her for the life she’s chosen. “So why’d you come to Denver? It’s not exactly a top vacation destination right now. Unless you like rain.”

“I love rain,” Elsa replies far too excitedly, as if rain is like her favorite thing in the world. “But no, I didn’t come here for a vacation. I…I came here…”

“Hey.”

Elsa’s startled by a hand that lands first on her upper arm and then on her shoulder. It’s soft, gentle, and she hopes it belongs to Anna or else this is getting awkward.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with,” Anna continues. But that’s the thing, Elsa feels very comfortable around Anna and she can’t explain why. All she can do is see and now feel her, but there’s something about Anna that makes her feel safe and trusted. Moreso than even her therapist.

Elsa sighs, the heaviness of this weekend’s events once again piling on her, hoping this will help her let it go. “I came here to call off my engagement with my…with my ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s- gosh, I’m so sorry that must have been really hard.”

Elsa shakes her head. “Don’t be. You didn’t know.”

“I know, but in my mind I thought you were like running from the law or something.”

“I wouldn’t have told you my real name if that were the case.” And she definitely wouldn’t be out in such a public place for so long, blackout or not.

“Wait so Elsa’s really your name?”

“Yes?”

“Holy shit, that’s pretty. I bet you’re like secretly royalty, aren’t you?”

“Nope, I’m just boring Elsa from boring Rhode Island.”

“Oh please. Boring people don’t get engaged.”

“…”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it-it’s alright. The breakup doesn’t hurt as much as it should, it was a long time coming and I prepared myself for it. But it just happened, I’d feel bad joking about it so soon.”

Though talking with Anna helps, the darkness still plays with her perception. In her mind, she’s constantly playing back the exact moment she took off the ring and gave it back to Hans. She’s remembering the shock and anguish on her ex-fiancé’s face, like she’d just stabbed him in the gut. She hears on loop his last words of “Elsa, what can I do?”

And though the images are shocking, they don’t sting any more than being pinched on the arm.

“Still doesn’t give me the right to joke about it.” Anna sighs, and takes her hand off Elsa’s shoulder. It had been on there for so long that Elsa almost forgot about it, and now she’s disappointed that it’s gone. “I must seem like such a jerk.”

“No, you’re hilarious,” Elsa says truthfully. “I’m not offended, it’s…I got all the bad feelings out of the way a while ago. I only came to Denver to call things off because it’d seem insensitive to do it over the phone.”

“That’s noble of you.”

Elsa laughs pitifully, “No. I led him on in a long-distance relationship for months while I fell out of love with him. That’s not noble at all.” She feels a tingle along her shoulder, like something’s hovering above it. The feeling goes away a second later.

“You can’t do that to yourself, Elsa. You can’t put the whole burden of the breakup on yourself. I mean, what’s the reason you fell out of love with him in the first place?”

Oh that’s a long story that will take up the rest of the word limit. Elsa thinks about the important details, the ones worth sharing, and a silly, unhelpful thought flashes in her mind like the lightning that strikes once again: What would Anna think if she leaned on her shoulder right now? She shakes that thought away and starts with her pitiful monologue.

“We got engaged about a year ago, it was actually the last thing we did before I graduated from college and moved back to Rhode Island. He still had a year left, and the plan was that we’d get married once he graduated. But it’s like…I don’t know, it felt like I was two different people when I moved back. It’s like there’s ‘Elsa from Rhode Island’ who’s calm, quiet, and likes to draw and sing in the shower, and then there’s ‘Elsa from Denver’ who’s energetic and charming, and is always trying to cheer people up with kind words and stupid memes. And I wanted so badly for both of these Elsas to coexist, but the longer I was away from Denver and Hans, the more I realized how exhausting it was trying to be who I always used to be. And when I tried to be 'Elsa from Rhode Island’, Hans wouldn’t respond to that and think I was angry or something, so I had to flip the switch. It took a while to realize that I didn’t want to keep putting on that mask, and if Hans didn’t like who I really was, then…I couldn’t fix that. I cried and panicked and did all that other stuff when I finally decided to break up with him. So much so that when I finally did it, I had already moved on. Breaking up was just a formality, like signing my name on a piece of paper. Even so, I feel guilty for doing this to him and sometimes I wonder if I just wasn’t trying hard enough to be who I needed to be. It’s stressful to think about, and right now all I know is that…I don’t want to set foot in Denver ever again.”

After a long moment of silence, punctuated by the storm outside fighting to punch through the windows, Anna’s hand makes contact with Elsa again. This time on her wrist.

“Elsa…” she starts softly. “I don’t think he tried hard enough.”

Elsa raises an eyebrow, she’s heard this take from her parents and friends, but it hits a little more when Anna says it.

“I mean you weren’t in a relationship with yourself, right? He had to meet you halfway on stuff like this, especially if you’re going to commit the rest of your lives with each other. If he couldn’t accept who you are now, then what would things look like if you got married?”

“But people change in a relationship,” Elsa argues. “What if I was just scared to change? What if I was too comfortable with what was familiar and I was scared about doing something new?”

“Well, how much can change about yourself before you stop feeling like yourself?”

This is the first time anyone’s ever asked Elsa this question before, and it shuts her up quickly. All the while, Anna continues unfettered.

“I’m not trying to be your therapist, so I’m sorry if I cross the line anywhere. But I feel like…the best relationships are the ones where neither of you have to worry about what you look like to the other person. Like you have nothing to prove because you like yourself, and they make you feel comfortable with that. And I think if you get too caught up on the whole 'changing in a relationship’ thing, it means you’ve already lost sight of why you’re in a relationship in the first place. It’s not always about what you do for each other, but what you can do together. That’s…I mean I think that’s the beautiful part of being with someone you love. That you’re you, and that they’re them, and you’re yourselves doing stupid things like eating a grilled cheese sandwich on the balcony at 3 AM.”

Elsa’s so caught up in Anna’s wisdom that her silly joke catches her completely off-guard and she snorts, “What? Where’d that last part come from?”

Anna huffs, “Look, I really want a grilled cheese right now, okay?”

“Well, uh I think I might owe you one.”

“Really? For what?”

“For telling me what I needed to hear.” Boldness overtakes Elsa and she places her hand on top of Anna’s. Though the thunder roars and whines, Elsa swears she hears a hitching of breath. “You’re quite the love expert, Anna of Arizona.”

“Oh, uh…thank you? I don’t think I’m a love expert at all. I’ve never actually…”

She trails off, Elsa leans forward. “What was that?”

“I said I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

“Oh. Wow.” It sounds like Anna’s genuinely embarrassed by this, so Elsa reassures her. “Well, that sounds ridiculous.” Or at least she tries to.

Anna laughs, but in a way that you laugh when your parents are telling stories about dumb things you used to do as a kid. “You don’t have to do that. It’s my fault, I don’t put myself out there that much and it…I don’t know, I think I might be hard to love.”

Elsa gasps, “That can’t be true. I think anyone would be lucky to love you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Anna says in almost a whisper.

“I know enough. I know that you can sing and write songs. I know that you’re caring enough to comfort a total stranger on their breakup. I know that thunder storms don’t scare you.”

“I mean it’s just loud noises and rain,” Anna mumbles.

“And I know you have a beautiful voice. A beautiful mind. A beautiful heart.”

Anna doesn’t respond right away, but she does squeeze Elsa’s wrist in what she thinks is an expression of gratitude. The more they stray down this new path in their conversation, the harder it is to assume what Anna must be thinking. How she must be feeling. Elsa can only hope that she feels the comfort that Anna made her feel just a few short minutes ago.

She hears Anna take a breath like it’s something she’s forgotten to do. “You don’t know what I look like. I could be Medusa. Or a gross, alien thing.”

“I bet you’re a beautiful, gross, alien thing.”

That gets another laugh from Anna, this one with the joy and relief that Elsa was waiting for. “Well, I bet you’re a beautiful, gross, alien thing too.”

And that’s when Elsa feels it. That pull. The daring pull forward that she hasn’t felt in the longest time. In the dark, under stormy weather, and in the quiet of their secluded corner, Elsa admits to herself the bold attraction she feels for a woman she can’t even see. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and the words she wants to say are on the tip of her tongue. The words “I think I want to kiss you” are ready to escape like a whisper.

But a flash of light hits wall to wall, brighter than the flashes of lightning from before, and interrupts all her thoughts. The airport is finally pulled out of its blackout, and the collective sigh of the remaining hopeful passengers rings through the corridor. Unattended luggage sits on dull, gray seats, people wake violently from their naps, and Anna-

Oh.

She can finally see Anna from Arizona.

She can see her large, forest green raincoat, her guitar on her lap with its polished rosewood and silver strings, her cane resting against her chair, her auburn-colored hair traveling down her shoulders, her freckles accenting her surprised expression…

And her milky, white eyes.

It catches Elsa so off-guard, that all she can do at first is sit up and blink. When words come back to her, she manages to stumble out a “Wow…”

Anna must sense the weight in Elsa’s reaction, and she shuts her eyes. “The lights came back on, didn’t they?”

“Y-yeah, I- they did. They finally did. I mean not finally, but…Anna-”

“No,” Anna interrupts, eyes shut painfully tight. “Please, you don’t have to say anything. I should have told you when we first started talking.”

“You didn’t have to, that’s not…I…this looks bad. Not look! Not- I’m sorry, I’m making you feel worse.”

“You’re not,” Anna protests, now ducking down to bury her face against her guitar. Through the covering, she says with gut-wrenching guilt, “I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, Anna, I'm not. I was just surprised.”

“But in a bad way, right?”

“No! Not in a bad way.”

“Ugh, I should have told you. But I was too busy being stupid and crushing on you, and I forgot to just give you a head’s up like 'Hey by the way, I’m blind and have zombie eyes, I hope that doesn’t scare you’. Stupid Anna, stupid stupid-”

Elsa puts her hands on Anna’s shoulders and says her name, which causes the rambling woman to gasp and stop talking. When she’s sure that Anna’s not going to freak out on her again, Elsa says, “Please lift your head up.”

With a little assurance from Elsa, Anna finally sits back up and her hands rest on her guitar.

“Please…open your eyes,” Elsa asks with her hands traveling down to rest on top of Anna’s.

Anna shakes her head, though thankfully her expression has softened and it doesn’t look like she has a massive headache. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“I’m not scared, Anna. And I won’t be. Just please open your eyes.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

After a deep breath, Anna cautiously opens her eyes again, accompanied by another thunder strike. Though Elsa barely registers that, her focus is completely on Anna and the nervousness she can still see through her cloudy irises. At this point, someone much more deep, profound, and better with words would say something that would make Anna’s heart soar. And Elsa’s thinking of what she’d say if she were that kind of person.

But she’s not that kind of person and that’s okay.

Elsa smiles for the both of them and says, “I told you. You’re beautiful.” Expectedly, thankfully, and earnestly, Anna smiles too.

#elsanna #submission #June 2021 contest #prompt: storm

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fandomsonrequests · 3 years

Text

𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..? [𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 8]

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: prince! park seonghwa

reader: fem! knight

word count: 3.5k+

summary: It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one

a/n: yAAAYY it’s finally here! part 8! it’s still a long ride so please forgive me if updates are getting slow ;^; school is really kicking my ass. plus there were flooding and typhoons that happened in my country so I lost internet for a few days. But thank you again for those who stuck by ;^;

taglist: @iwanttohitmyself @barcelona-sergei @minihongjoong @i-purrple-u @taetae123094 @jeonartemis @jibaxja @theoinkypiglet @sparklychangbin

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Seonghwa walks alongside Hongjoong as they head towards the Queen’s parlor in the East Wing of the palace. Sometimes he wondered why the palace had to be so big- it was quite a walk to get from one place to another.

“How was Hae-seong’s class?” The shorter asked after a long moment of silence.

The Prince looked over to his friend with a bit of a hesitant look. “It looks fine... Although I think he was in a bad mood today.”

“Oh please; when isn’t that old fart in a bad mood.”

Seonghwa guffawed at the term his friend used on the Duke, clasping a hand over his mouth at that.

“You needed me, mother?” He asks as soon as he enters the Queen’s parlor.

It wasn’t a very large room but it was no less grand than the others. Paintings of past ancestors and the recent royal family hung in golden frames along the mauve-colored velvet walls of the parlor. A white marble fireplace was built in the center, a wide mirror hanging above it. In front of the fireplace were two plush couches, of course in a mauve shade, with a white and silver table placed in between the couches.

His mother was quite picky with color combinations.

The Queen turns her attention from her Ladies-In-Waiting and to her son, beaming a rather large smile and patting the space next to her on one of the couches. “Come sit.” She invites him.

Seonghwa greeted the other ladies in the room and sat next to his mother. As soon as he does that, the Ladies-in-Waiting, save for the eldest one, take it as their cue to leave the room and give some privacy for the mother and son.

“Seonghwa,” The Queen starts taking her son’s hand into his. “Your father and I have been planning something for you.”

Another thing?? When will these surprises end?

“Since your father planned something similar to a selection for your personal guard, we decided that we won’t be holding a selection for your bride.”

That caught the young prince off-guard. It has been a tradition that dates back several centuries that their family line would have a selection for the spouse of every royal offspring. That was how his mother met his father. His father came from the kingdom near the oceans and the docks and managed to win the Queen’s heart amongst all the suitors.

But it made sense for them to forgo that tradition. The assassin that slipped into his room came from a different kingdom. His parents were just taking precautions by calling the whole thing off.

Sure it would cause some small (or maybe even large) disputes between the allying kingdoms but ties were already shaky the day Seonghwa was meant to be assassinated.

“Then I suppose I’ll be marrying someone within the kingdom?” Asked the Prince to which he was answered with a nod.

The Queen took her son’s hand in hers and ran her delicate thumb against the back of his knuckles. “We’re still deciding on who you will marry but so far, we think Hae-seong’s daughter would be a good match for you.”

Oh, her.

Hae-seong was blessed with three children, his middle child being his only daughter: Ayeong. She and Seonghwa were around the same age, with him being just a few months older.

It wasn’t that Ayeong was mean or anything, it’s just that he didn’t have the best memories growing up with her. He remembered taking a massive liking to her when they were younger. He was around fourteen or fifteen years old when he confessed his feelings to her, right under the large oak tree that grew in the prairie at the back of the palace.

To his dismay, she didn’t return his feelings. She fancied one of the young knights-in-training then. Despite the unrequited emotions, he still respected her and tried not to look so heartbroken around her. But ever since then, he’s been avoiding her around the palace.

He wondered if what took place back then would affect his parent’s plans for both of them.

“Oh.. does Hae-seong know about it?” Seonghwa prompted.

“No, not yet. We plan on telling him. I don’t think he would be opposed to it though. And besides, you’re good friends with her, I’m sure you don’t mind.”

He gives a slightly strained smile at that and just bowed his head. “Whatever you think is best, mother.”

“Thank you, my dear.” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Well, that’s all I wanted to tell you. You may go back to where you were.”

“I think I’d like to stay here with you for a while, mother.”

The Queen smiles fondly at that. She couldn’t help but take his cheeks in her hands and give them a pinch, making her son protest in slight pain. He may have grown up to be a strong, intelligent, and handsome young man but in her eyes, he will always be her baby: wide curious eyes and a spirited laugh tumbling from his crooked-toothed smile.

“That’s all for today. You may head down to the dining hall for lunch before going to the courtyard for your lessons with Byron.” Hae-seong dismisses the class.

It’s only been a few minutes since the class had ended and they were already drained. Hae-seong talked too fast for their liking. At first, he would stop and go back to something they missed when someone pointed it out but eventually he grew tired of that and kept speeding through the lesson despite the class’s protests.

“I just want a break,” Raviv sighs, rubbing his temple to soothe his incoming migraine. “That was so much information to absorb.”

“I think he’s purposely trying to make us fail.” You say in a hushed tone.

Your friends nod in agreement. They suspected that the duke didn’t want them there but this kind of attitude coming from him furthered that suspicion. Lunchtime went by in a blur and now the whole group was standing in the middle of the courtyard, awaiting for Byron to come.

Though you were hesitant when it came to academics, you felt much more confident in this area. You’ve never really fought with swords but your brother had a habit of play- fighting with you, so you knew a thing or two about having to defend yourself.

You glance over to the quarry-workers from your village and other mountain villages. A few of them were joking around and showing off their strength by butting into each other. You couldn’t blame them, some probably did that to shake off their nerves. But you knew there were some that just really liked to show off.

Like Michael. He was… nice when he wanted to be but he caused a lot of trouble back in Trelark. He always found himself in a kerfuffle and never really learned to back down even when the situation called for it. He was the type of guy who bets his pride with high stakes.

Others seemed apprehensive; one of those people was Amihan. She wrung her hands together in anxiousness, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. People from the mountain were deemed as tough- especially since the living conditions there were less than ideal. But Amihan grew up in the lowlands, she was afraid she didn’t live up to those sayings.

“Hey,” You call out to her in a quiet voice. She turns to look at you, her brows creased. You offer her a gentle smile and a nod before mouthing the words, It’s okay.

Her shoulders relaxed a little but you could see that her whole frame was still tense.

A few minutes later, Byron arrives with a few other knights who were pushing two carts of sturdy wooden swords to be used in your lessons. The group of delegates grew silent at the sight of the practice weapons before them, reminding them that this was real and it's not just fun and games anymore.

“I hope you all had a good lunch,” Byron says with a warm smile.

His welcoming deposition was enough to lessen the heavy tension in the area. It was such a contrast to the cold and annoyed aura Hae-seong displayed earlier. It was, albeit abrupt, a nice change.

“In case you all forgot my name, I am Byron. You don’t have to call me sir, or anything. My name is enough,” The man said, his voice loud and clear over the courtyard. “Most of your training here at the palace will be held with me so you don't have to worry about Hae-seong breathing down your neck.”

A few delegates sighed and chuckled in relief at that, eliciting an amused huff from Byron.

“Although it doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t do well in his class. Always strive for the best no matter what situation. Now, I think I’ve talked too much. Find a partner- preferably someone your size or strength- and we can begin our lessons.”

You glance around to find a suitable partner for the lessons. Usually, in situations where you need a partner, you would ask Siyeon to go along with you or vice versa. But in this particular situation, you had to look for someone else.

It’s not that you were incredibly strong as a person but you packed a harder punch than most girls your age. You didn’t want to hurt your best friend.

“Hey Raviv,” You call out to your other friend. “Do you have a partner yet?”

“Not yet. Do you want to be partners?” He asks as he approaches you.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “That’s why I asked you if you had one.”

You bumped your shoulder with him, a little greeting for him, as soon as you reached each other. He slings an arm over you and ruffles your hair, only for you to end up swatting his hand away.

Siyeon was paired with another girl from your village, Gahyeon was her name if you remembered correctly, while Amihan was off to the side with one of her friends from the lowlands.

As soon as everyone was paired, the other knights that came with Byron started handing out the training swords. It was much heavier than it looked but not as heavy as the weapons you handle back at the smithy.

Your fingers curled around the leather-wrapped handle as your other hand held the “blade” part of the sword. You couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship of the sword, even if it was wooden. You gave it a couple of bounces and twirled it a little to test out its weight. You look up when you hear Raviv give an impressed whistle, looking at you with pride in his eyes.

Your face immediately heats up in embarrassment, dropping the sword to your side after.

“Try not to kill me later, please.” Your friend teases as he knocks his sword with yours.

Before you could respond, Byron calls out for your attention, making all of you turn to him. He had a training sword of his own in his hold, his sword pressed into the gravel beneath his scuffed boots. “We’ll start with the basics today. I hope by the end of our lessons for the day, you all get to learn a thing or two. And don’t get too discouraged if you can’t get it right today. You still have a month to learn before the grading.

“Anyway, let’s start.”

The sound of wood crashing against wood and several shuffling feet echoed around the courtyard and floated up the palace walls. It could be heard from inside the palace although muffled by the layers of stone that made up the walls.

Seonghwa walked down the hall, curious to see how the training was going when he saw a young man curiously watching the delegates train rigorously through a large window, peering down into the courtyard. He could see Byron walking around with calculating eyes as he takes note of each delegate’s stances.

“San,” The prince calls out with a grin, making the young man jump in surprise.

San’s cat-like eyes turn onto him. “Prince Seonghwa, you scared me.”

“Oh please, you can drop the formalities. It’s just us.”

San shrugged with a chuckle, allowing the older male to stand beside him. “I’d rather be safe than sorry, hyung. Especially after Duke Hae-seong gave me an earful when he heard me address you so casually.”

San was the son of one of the earls in the king’s court. It was only natural that he and San would end up as friends since San practically grew up in the palace.

“I guess,” Seonghwa hums as he watches the delegates.

Their swords clashed against each other as they practiced the strikes Byron had shown them earlier. Many of them looked like they could hold their own fight, pushing on despite the fatigue they felt in their arms and the sweat that slid down their skin. But there were also several of them that flinched and cowered when the training swords came towards them.

“They look promising,” San says, pulling the prince out of his thoughts. “Especially the ones from the city-towns.”

And it was true. Usually, city-towns like the Capitol had Fencing as an optional part of the curriculum in their education only because they were able to afford the materials and maintain it. Other regions weren’t as fortunate to be blessed with this kind of lesson; although, technical skill can be outmatched or be on par with street smarts.

Seonghwa’s gaze landed on a particular person. It was the woman from the day before. She still had that intense look in her eyes as she brought her training sword against her partners. Her movements were strong yet fluid, albeit less graceful than the other knights but no less powerful.

He watches as she shuffles away from blocking her partner’s strike only for her to come swiftly at him. He notices how her once concentrated expression shifts to a more joyous one when she finally intercepts her friend’s attack and strikes the air near his vital spot

“She’s good.” He blurts out, making San quirk his head in curiousness.

“What was that hyung?”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened when he realized that he’s said his thoughts aloud. His cheeks flush a bright red, spreading all the way up to his ears. He clears his throat to clear the awkward air around him, the smirk that San was sending him didn’t help.

The younger male follows his gaze and his smirk grows wider. “Ooohhh, her. Oh yeah, she’s definitely good. I think she’s better than you, hyung.”

“Oh haha.” Seonghwa laughs dryly with an amused roll of his eyes.

San chuckled in return and kept his gaze on the woman Seonghwa seemed so interested in. “I think she’d last long with this training,” he remarks. “I’m going to bet she may even be your bodyguard.”

The prince hums in acknowledgment. “You think so?”

“I know so, hyung.”

Seonghwa glances again at the woman and lets San’s words sink in. He could never really tell if she would really end up as his protector but he had a good feeling about her.

By the time the delegates were done with their first day of training, the sun was starting to set. The sky turned from a bright blue to the crisp rose-gold color of the evening. The usual sounds from the Capitol quiet down as the day comes to an end.

Several people were sitting on the ground, catching their breaths while their swords lay on the dirt beside them. Others were leaning against the pillars of the courtyard. The air around them felt heavy as every ounce of energy drained out of the delegates.

Byron chuckled at the sight. “You did well, all of you.” He says as he watches them pick themselves up from the ground. “I hope you don’t feel so disheartened after today because this is just the beginning.”

You groan in exhaustion along with the other delegates. Right now, using the word tired to describe what you felt would be an understatement.

“We’ll continue again tomorrow. Make sure to wash up before you eat, you’ll be measured to have uniforms tailored for you.” Byron dismisses you all.

As you all line up to return the training swords to the racks, Siyeon stumbles in line behind you. “My arms are gonna fall off.” She mumbles into your shoulder while her arms wrap around your waist.

“At least you’re alive.” You reply and lean your head onto hers. “But at this point, I just want to eat and shower.”

“Oh, you said it.”

You feel so worn out as you allow your feet to drag you back to the girls’ quarters to wash up and change for dinner. Your mind grows blank and the rest of the evening happens in a blur. You didn’t even realize how late it was into the evening until the smell of food stirred your senses.

You didn’t eat in the dining hall this time. You were led to a smaller, more simple room. It wasn’t as grand as the dining hall but it was large enough to fit all of you.

“Are we really going to eat here..?” You hear Michael grumble to his friend. “I was really enjoying the dining hall..”

“Well of course we’re going to eat here. We aren’t of the royal family or part of the court,” Someone from the city-town sneers. One of the girls looked at everyone else like they’re worms to grovel at her feet. You never really liked her- and how she was acting right now giving you all the more reason not to. “So I suggest learning your place. Don’t get comfortable yet.”

That successfully managed to keep Michael quiet. But the tone that city-town dweller used ticked you off. You were never really confrontational unless pushed, so you kept quiet. You opted to just offer Michael a sympathetic smile before walking over to an available seat.

“Fucking highlanders..” She mumbled to herself as they passed by you.

You turn over to her, glaring daggers in the back of her head. You hope that one day karma gets to her and she’d eat up the words she tossed at your friends.

As dinner comes to an end, Mina enters the dining hall with a few people carrying some fabrics and measuring tape trailing behind her. You turn your attention to her and give her a small wave to which she responds with a bright smile and a slight bow.

“If I may have your attention, delegates.” She calls out in her clear voice. The hall becomes quiet and all attention is focused on her. “You’ll be having your fitting for your uniforms today. Expect the uniforms to arrive in two weeks.

“Now if you’re done eating, kindly line up. The tailors and seamstresses shall be measuring you.”

Half of the delegates stood and walked over to where Mina was, awaiting their turn to be measured. You wondered what kind of uniforms you’d be provided- and why it would be made so fast. Siyeon always told you that making one shirt alone took quite a while. Aside from that, the type of fabric and the design of the clothing would affect the process too.

“I hope they don’t put us in super stuffy uniforms like some royal guards,” Amihan says from across you as she finishes up her meal. “I feel like I’ll suffocate.”

“Oh yeah like the ones with the neck collars. Those seem stuffy.” Raviv adds, mouth halfway full with his mashed potatoes.

You hand him a napkin to wipe his mouth with before speaking up. “I think those types of uniforms are just for show.”

“Goodbye, practicality hello death,” Siyeon smirks, earning a playful shove from Amihan.

Little by little, once they were done being fitted, the delegates filed out of the dining area and went back to their rooms. Your friends went ahead since they were tired and you were one of the last people to be measured.

You waved goodbye to Siyeon, shouting after her to not leave her wet towel on your bed again, and walked up to the seamstress. Once you were done, you thanked her and walked back to your room.

Luckily the dining area wasn’t too far from your rooms so you didn’t get lost on the way back. Although, you did take your time walking. The palace was so different at night, especially with how the torches that lined the walls cast a shadow against everything (or everyone) in the hall.

It was a little eerie with the silence and everything but it also held some sort of ambiance to it. The soft golden glow from the torches made the enormous palace seem warm and cozy, especially on a night as cold as this.

By the time you reached the girls’ quarters most were already in bed and asleep. Very few were awake, sitting on each other’s beds and whispering away. You go through your usual nightly routine and crawl into bed, a relieved sigh escaping you when your tired muscles relax.

You blow out the candle on your bedside table after pressing a quick kiss to the pendant your father gave you and let yourself drift into sleep.

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yubsie · 3 years

Text

Hand Me Downs

Breha gives Hera baby gifts. Which means she can pass them on to Leia for her child. (AO3 if you prefer)

No one had warned Hera that being a high-ranking member of the Rebel Alliance was going to involve ruffles. She was prepared for overwhelming odds, to risk her life against an enemy who gave no mercy. And in the early days, that was exactly what she got. A lot of sneaking around and flying and getting shot at and wearing a flightsuit . Then she’d worked her way up through the ranks and found herself having to attend formal dinner parties that covered for high-ranking strategy sessions. The perils of being a general.

If she had a choice, she would have gone for formalwear with a bit of slink to it. But her rapidly expanding midsection didn’t lend itself well to that at all. The only dress she’d been able to find in... whatever her current size was took the philosophy that the bump could just blend in with the rest of the floof. Her attendance in her condition would surely fuel all sorts of gossip about her and the man Breha had chosen to sit her next to. Gossip was useful; it meant that everyone was speculating about her personal life instead of what they might actually be discussing. The trouble was it also meant they were speculating about her personal life and the child who hadn’t volunteered for this. It wasn’t even the worst thing to happen this week, but it felt so incredibly alien.

She wished she could talk to Kanan about it. He would have delivered some sort of over-the-top compliment. And then Ezra would have somehow still not noticed. At least she could still hope to explain to a very baffled Ezra where her child had come from.

But neither of them were here. Now she had the new constant figures of her life: Mon Mothma and the Organas. She trusted the high-ranking members of the Alliance; it would be disastrous if she couldn’t. She even liked them quite a bit. They were good people. Friends, even. They just weren’t family, and she wanted so much of that around right now.

Her glass represented their current target in the makeshift map they were drawing up on the dinner table. The fact that she was the only one currently restricted to water set it apart conveniently from the wine glasses representing rebel units. She tapped Bail’s glass. “If we bring the demolitions team in from the west, they’ll have the sanitation droids as cover.” Sabine would be thrilled, she was sure. Garbage had so much artistic merit.

Mon Mothma nodded. “And that will help minimize the collateral damage to the surrounding citizens.”

Ierlin Allston, head of their fledgling public relations department, nodded. “The benefits of that are pretty obvious.”

They probably didn’t need to consider it from the public image perspective. It was enough that it was right. But it was still a useful angle. Anything to win hearts and minds over in the fight against the Empire. While also winning key weapons factories. They had a solid plan that was sure to go out the window and require extensive improvisation, but at least they had something to build on now.

It was also as far as the plan could possibly go before that first engagement with the enemy. They were still waiting on several key intelligence reports Mon Mothma had hoped they would have in time for this session. There hadn’t been a way to postpone the dinner party that wouldn’t attract suspicion when the information. So they would have to fill the remainder of the dinner party with actual dinner party activity. Definitely not Hera’s specialty, that was more for those who had come here from the senatorial side of things.

“General Syndulla, a word?” She didn’t actually know enough about the etiquette of these sorts of parties to know if it was unusual for Breha to break away from her carefully balanced seating arrangement. They’d eaten most of the courses at this point, so perhaps mingling was entirely normal.

At any rate, when the Queen of Alderaan requested a word, one gave a word. She didn’t need to know anything about royal etiquette to realize that much. “Yes, of course.” How was she supposed to address her? They were on friendly terms, and in a flightsuit she would probably address her by name without a second thought. She really was out of her element in all these bolts of fabric. Who had bought out the store to construct this ridiculous dress? “Your Majesty?”

The queen smiled. “It can still be Breha.” She paused. “This is absolutely a personal interaction.”

Hera had almost forgotten what those felt like in recent months. They were always for family, but even the ones she could locate were scattered. Zeb and Kallus came by often, but they had their own work. It was often just her and Sabine, since Ezra vanished. And she didn’t want to put too much pressure on the girl. It wasn’t fair. “It is?”

“You know, Leia was rather unexpected.” It was obvious enough where that was coming from. No one had to be told that she hadn’t planned this. Even if Kanan had lived, they were in the middle of a war, and she still wasn’t quite sure how she was going to balance the baby with all of that. How she was going to keep him safe. He would need her to step back, especially at first, but he would also need a safe galaxy to grow up in. She had to find a way to give him a mother and a future at the same time. It would have been easier if Kanan were here to help. But she’d tried to stop dwelling on things that were well and truly impossible. She had to deal with the situation as it was.

“Wasn’t she adopted?” That was the sort of development one usually tried to plan. It didn’t just happen like having strange symptoms weeks after losing the love of her life and realizing that the Force apparently wanted more little Jedi running around. Or something like that.

Breha laughed warmly. “She was. The last days of the Clone Wars were the strangest.”

She’d only been a child then, but old enough to realize how quickly everything was changing. The galaxy suddenly looked completely different and as dangerous as ever. That was just never going to end, it would seem.

“We had talked about it, but I wasn’t expecting Bail to come home with a baby that day.”

Hera couldn’t even imagine. She was already struggling to prepare for her baby with months of warning. Having one just show up was a logistical nightmare. But she wasn’t sure where this was meant to be going. “You seem to have managed quite well. She’s remarkable.” The princess was involved in more missions of late. And she didn’t disappoint.

“There are... certain advantages to a hereditary home. The attics have more than anyone could possibly use in a lifetime. So it was easy to prepare a nursery.”

That wouldn’t really help on the emotional front, but sometimes logistics were the easiest thing to focus on. Their supplies had never been so well documented as right after the liberation of Lothal.

“I was wondering how you were doing on that front?”

“I...” She’d been trying to figure out how to care for the child. “Our usual suppliers don’t tend to trade in infant goods.”

“That’s what I thought.” She would never have expected a queen to be so practical before she met Breha. But what was government if not a giant exercise in logistics? She’d seen quickly that Princess Leia Organa had not been routinely handed off to nannies. They probably would have attempted to exert some sort of moderating influence to keep her out of the Rebellion. “Bail and I wanted to give you a few items. Some clothing, a travel bassinette. We have more spares than we could ever need. Leia could be a great-great-grandmother before we had to reuse a single item. It will go to so much better use with you, I think.”

“I...” She suddenly pictured items from a royal palace tucked into one of the Ghost’s empty rooms. The image was strange enough to bring laughter instead of the usual sadness at the state of those rooms. “That’s so generous.”

“Alderaan favours simplicity.” Translation: don’t worry, I’m not handing you something jewel encrusted to furnish a freighter. “The craftsmanship is excellent.”

Hera rested her hand on her belly, taking a moment to imagine her future. “He’ll be the most elegantly dressed baby at the spacestop.”

***

No one had warned Leia that victory would involve quite so many Functions. She should have been prepared for them, growing up in a royal palace, but after fighting a war for so long, she’d let herself forget. Now they moved more and more toward an actual government, and she had to learn an old role all over again. She’d gotten used to her days involving more strategy sessions than dinner parties.

Of course, she still had military officers approaching her. They just wore the notoriously unpopular dress uniform now. They had barely had a uniform at all when her parents first let her get involved in the Rebellion. Now there was a dress variant, and the people who wore it had no end of opinions. Even if a general would, of course, never breathe a word about it. “Senator, a word?”

Leia maneuvered herself around carefully. That was the only way she could actually move these days. Her small stature made her increasing bulk feel all the more unwieldy. “Of course, General.”

“It’s really more of a Hera conversation.” They’d known each other too long to always stand on ceremony. Right now, Leia didn’t much care for standing at all. “Can you handle the walk to the Ghost?”

“As long as there are chairs at the end.” At least they had enough history that she could admit that.

Hera nodded and started to lead the way. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she said almost automatically.

Automatically enough that Hera immediately raised an eyebrow.

“Tired.” It was a completely different brand of exhaustion that the sleepless nights in a battle zone. Not necessarily worse, but unique. She’d never grown a human being before but it was taking more out of her than she was eager to admit. Especially when she was trying to convince her staff she wasn’t an invalid. “Exhausted, really.”

Hera smiled. “It’s like that a lot. I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but it’s a nice sort of exhausted. Most of the time.”

“How’s your son doing? I hope he’s well.”

“He spent this last deployment with Zeb and Kallus. He’s amazing, even if keeping up with a Force sensitive child is more work than three full starfighter squadrons.”

More of a preview of her life than she meant it to be. Deep in her heart, she knew that was true, but she hadn’t had anyone who’d knowingly experienced that to talk to. She couldn’t have been that bad a child, could she have?

She probably had. “Just regular squadrons, I hope?”

Hera shook her head. “All of them are Rogue Squadron. All of them.” Current reports indicated that the general they were currently attached to was rapidly balding. Also making remarkable progress through former Imperial territory but in utterly exhausting and unexpected ways. “Of course, I don’t really have a non-Force sensitive child to compare him to. Sabine was already a teenager by the time she was in my life.”

She could handle it. At least she had some amount of Force sensitivity herself. Poor Han, she should warn him. Maybe have him talk to Hera, if they could stop arguing about the relative merits of their ships long enough to discuss anything else. This might actually be important enough to manage that.

Hera keyed in the sequence to open up the hatch and led the way into the common area. Which had some remarkably comfortable chairs. Well chosen. Maybe she could get Han to install something like this on the Falcon. At the very least she had to find out where these cushions came from. Maybe she could even sneak one for the next Function...

Once she was suitably settled to relieve her overtaxed feet, Hera tried several times to open a conversation. Finally, she managed, “It can be hard to stop thinking about who you desperately want to be there, with a child.”

Leia’s hand drifted to her belly. “Han’s the important part.” She’d worried a lot when he was off dealing with Kashyyyk. But he was back now and ready to be part of their son’s life. It wasn’t like what Hera had had to deal with when her son was born. She had so many others around her, it wasn’t fair to wish for the things she couldn’t have.

“A baby can never have too much family. The whole crew helped me with Jacen.” She reached over and took Leia’s hand. “And so did two people who would be the most delighted grandparents anyone could ask for.”

Hormones were completely unfair. She was a senator; she couldn’t go crying like this. “I keep thinking of all the traditions I always thought any child of mine would participate in.” There was a lot involved with being the heir to the throne of Alderaan. For all that she’d complained, she couldn’t have imagined back then things going another way. Her child wouldn’t be the heir to anything— only a field of rubble.

“I had no idea what I was going to do without Kanan. But your parents were so kind to me.” She’d been busy with her own missions and a certain amount of teenaged tunnel blindness, but she did remember General Syndulla being around more often in the months leading up to the Battle of Yavin. She’d assumed it was all about the Rebel Alliance getting more established and the longtime leaders having more work to do. But of course, a pregnancy would change the day to day activities of a general. For all that she told her staff she wasn’t an invalid, she did occasionally have to slow down.

“They were always like that.” That was why it hurt so much. The galaxy needed people who were that kind. She tried to carry on their legacy, but she could only do so much. It would never be enough.

Hera pulled two crates forward and opened the first to reveal an assortment of baby clothes. She handed Leia the top onesie to examine. It wasn’t the sort of clothes she would have expected an active rebel to pick out, but these must be Jacen’s old things. They didn’t get a lot of babies in the Rebellion, after all. She ran her hand over the fabric. “This is beautiful.” It almost felt like rannasilk. But the only place to get that was... “It can’t be...”

Hera handed her another piece of clothing. The same craftsmanship. The same material. “Your mother said she had more than she could ever dream of using.”

“I remember. We had more than we could ever need, but no sense letting perfectly good things sit by, even if they were a little bit too luxurious.” It wasn’t what most people expected of royalty. But Alderaan wasn’t like anywhere else in the galaxy.

“She told me you could be a great grandmother before they ever had to reuse any baby things.” And then all of that had gone to waste when Tarkin said fire. Except for these boxes.

Leia held the onesie to her heart. Any connection at all.

“The other crate is a few items of furniture. I assume you have something permanent set up at home, but they knew I was mostly going to be travelling.” Settling down only became a real possibility for any of them in the past year. And even that was slow going. “It would make a good shipboard nursery.”

She’d been surprised that Han was willing to make changes to the Falcon. Putting in a galley. If he’d do that for her, surely their baby would also be worth it. They weren’t going to leave any permanent marks, and there was that strange room that Lando kept referring to as his cape closet. There wasn’t much in there but junk now. They could sort through all of that and make space for the baby. Space for... she opened the crate.

A perfectly crafted travel bassinette. Just like she would have slept in for all but her very first trip to Alderaan. Artfully carved, solid craftsmanship. Though the straps attached inside didn’t look at all Alderaanian. A practical addition, but added with respect for the aesthetic. She tugged on them. Solid, that would keep a baby from going anywhere even if his father decided it was a good idea to go into an asteroid field. But also quite lovely.

“That was Sabine’s work. Alderaanian royal politics don’t tend to quite rival an active rebellion for excitement.”

“If you go far enough in our history...” There was a reason Alderaanian royals had found themselves drawn to rebellion. She’d like to think it was all about justice. But they didn’t come from a tradition of sitting quietly, no matter what her tutors had tried to convince her of at the time. “I hope they’re never necessary.”

“That’s what we all hope for our children. And we actually have a chance at giving it to them, thanks to the work your parents started.” Started. They’d all continued it. And now, her child would have more of a link to that than she’d ever dreamed.

“I don’t know how to thank you enough for this gift.” She didn’t expect anything from family for the next generation. It would have been a foolish hope. That was all lost years ago in the worst moment of her life. Except, it seemed, this one gift. Because her parents had taken the time to care for someone else. They couldn’t have known this would come back to her; they were expecting her to use the rest of the excess in the palace’s vast storage.

She would have to teach her child to be like them. Dreaming cradled in this gift they didn’t know they were giving him.

#hera syndulla #leia organa #breha organa #fanfiction #kanera #well in the past tense #i'm still a couple fics behind crossposting #apparently i must fill the breha and hera tag myself #challenge accepted #pregnancy

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lesbian-percy-weasley · 4 years

Text

Despite by Gay Natasha Saves The World on Ao3 (aka me)

Series: At Least I Can Hold You (part 1)

Ship: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood

Content Warning: Implied Homophobia

Description: Percy didn’t want to come out. He remembers when Bill did. The word despite still hits him deep down

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

Percy didn’t like women. He never did. He knew what his parents expected of him. He was supposed to marry a high school sweetheart and get a small flat and have a few babies and be all around perfectly normal.

But Percy wasn’t normal. He fell in love with his roommate Oliver Wood. He told him in fifth year through tears and a shaky voice. Oliver had always been the constant Percy needed. He always knew how to keep him grounded when his mind wanted to run free. He knew that this is what real love was supposed to feel like.

But his family didn’t understand. At all. He remembered when Bill came out. He had just graduated from Hogwarts and was about to start his job as a curse breaker. One night at family dinner he decided it was time to tell his family.

“Hey guys I have something to tell you” everyone looked at him, stopping what they were doing. Bill gulped and said “I’ve been sitting on this for a while but I think it’s time to tell you guys I’m bisexual.”

Percy could feel the energy of the whole burrow change negatively in an instant.

The rest of the night was quite awkward. Once Percy finished eating he decided to go up to his room and bury himself in books. After a while he had thought everyone was asleep but he heard some muffled whispering from the kitchen. He quietly opened the door to see Bill and his mom talking in the kitchen.

“It’s not that big of deal mom. I’ve always been this way you just didn’t know.” “I don’t care, Bill. Somethings need to kept to yourself. You shouldn’t say stuff like that in front of your younger siblings.” “It’s not inappropriate it’s reality. They’re gonna find out eventually.” “But eventually shouldn’t be at family dinner.” “Fine. I get the idea. Don’t expect me to bring a boyfriend around.” His mom sighed heavily.

“Bill I still love you despite your condition. I’m just concerned about your siblings.” “This isn’t about them...” Percy went back into his room and shut the door. He didn’t see it as that big of deal but apparently his family didn’t think about it the same way.

Despite. Percy hated that word. He knew exactly what his mom meant when she said it. You can’t love someone despite something they can’t control. He didn’t want to come out. He didn’t want to have that discussion.

But he knew that he had to at one point. It wasn’t fair to Oliver to keep him a secret until the day they die. He didn’t deserve it. But Percy still wasn’t ready and didn’t think they would be anytime soon. He’d often write to Bill about it. He would understand better than anyone else what it was like. Bill told him to not come out until you can get your own house. It was safer to wait and Percy planned to for as long as he could.

He was constantly uneasy when he was with Oliver. Sometimes they would make out in abandoned classrooms and Percy was always worried that Fred and George would walk in and find out. Or worse, a teacher. Percy wished they could be more public about it. Go on dates to Hogsmeade, walk each other to their classes, kiss Oliver after he wins his quidditch matches. But they couldn’t.

Oliver told him that he didn’t mind. He knew what Percy was going through and he wanted to make sure he was safe first and foremost. Percy had a ‘girlfriend’ too. Penelope was a lesbian in a similar situation and them being together would throw people of the scent of what was really happening. Oliver knew it wasn’t real but he had to admit he got jealous when he saw them together in public. Out of everything it was the hardest for him to deal with

Percy was in his dorm finishing up a DADA essay when Oliver got back from quidditch practice. Percy didn’t even notice he was back until he felt the familiar pressure of hands on his shoulders. He set his quill down and looked up at him.

“Hi Ollie. How was quidditch practice.” “Exhausting. How’s writing your essay.” “You should know we’re in the same class.” Percy chuckled a bit and kissed Oliver.

Oliver could tell something was off with Percy. He wasn’t as soft as he usually is. He gets this way when he thinks about his family too much.

“Are you worrying again?” He asked. Percy scoffed. He didn’t like telling people about his problems. Opening up to people was one of the most dreaded tasks of life but he knew Oliver wouldn’t give it up. And Percy strangely loved him for that.

“Yeah. I’ve just been thinking about our future. I don’t know how I could possibly tell my family.” He sighed. Oliver sat down next to him. “You don’t have to tell them anything if you don’t feel safe.” “I know I know but, it’s unfair to you. I see the way you look at me when I’m with Penelope. I can’t stand to keep you a secret from everyone.”

Percy put his head in his hands. He knew that Oliver couldn’t live his whole life like this. Hell, Percy couldn’t live his whole life like this. He could feel his eyes threatening to release tears when Oliver hugged him.

They stayed like this for a while before another word was spoken. It was peaceful and comforting and it felt like home to Percy.

“Percy, I would rather be slightly jealous of a girl who you have no romantic feelings for than to know that my boyfriend put himself in danger for me. I am willing to be kept a secret until you’re ready, okay?” Percy nodded.

There would always be that little tinge of guilt. He supposed everyone had it about something. But his worries didn’t matter the second he was wrapped in Oliver’s warm embrace. Despite everything else, He had Oliver.

#harry potter #hogwarts #percy weasley #gryffindor #oliver wood #Perciver #percy/oliver #secret relationship #fanfiction

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alexhogh7137 · 4 years

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The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Twenty-One: The Healer

Chapter Twenty

Word Count 3k

Warnings: a lot of angst, fluff only at the end

By the time you reached Kattegat, you were unresponsive. Hvitserk, Ivar and Ubbe were in a panic. As soon as they reached the port, Ubbe got out of the ship and rushed over to the Healer's tent.

Ubbe "Please...we have her. She isn't responding! Can you help her?!" The Healer rose from his spot on the ground and cupped Ubbe's face into his hands.

Healer "I will try my best. Where is she?"

Ubbe "She is over here." When Ubbe left the tent, his wife Torvi was waiting for him with fear in her eyes.

Torvi "Is it bad?"

Ubbe "Worse than it said in the letter, I have to go. I will keep you updated on Y/n. Watch over the kids, I love you."

Torvi "I love you too. Come now, let's go over here." She took her kid's and walked over to the opposite side of the kingdom. She knew by the look on her husband's face that it was not good. She feared for you and prayed to the gods that you would regain consciousness.

Hvitserk is holding you in his arm's while Ivar stumbled out of the boat. Ivar's legs are in excruciating pain from today's earlier events but he is not thinking of himself right now. All he is worried about is his wife. The Healer reaches Hvitserk and stops in front of him. He places his hand over your forehead and pauses.

Hvitserk "What is it?"

Healer "Her wounds have gotten infected. I can see the infection spreading throughout her body. Her skin is boiling. Her body is trying to fight off the infection but she is so weak. That is why she is unresponsive."

Hvitserk "And her daughter?" He asked with tears in his eyes, fearing the horrific news that no parent-to-be wants to hear. The Healer takes a step back and inhales deeply.

Healer "I..I can see her but she is struggling to survive. With Y/n's condition, I do not know if she will make it through the night." Hvitserk looks down at you, struggling to stay alive in his arm's, then looks at Ivar.

Ivar "You can't do a thing? You can't heal her, like we all promised her!?"

Healer "I can heal her wounds but the medical will have to treat the infection. Even with medication, it will take her body a fairly long time to heal. I have not seen a woman so severely beaten before...if I may ask, who did this to her?"

Hvitserk "King Harald and her father."

Healer "My gods," he places his hand over your body, seeing everything that he has to do, "take her to her chambers, I will heal her wounds there." Hvitserk rushes to your chamber's and places you on the bed.

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

Hvitserk and Ivar go into the throne hall where they hold group meetings, to inform the people of their Queen's state.

Ivar "I know that many of you saw your Queen coming in here. I am sure that many of you are wondering what happened to her, why she is so severely beaten. You see, one of our strongest allies, King Harald Finnair, took her while we all slept five day's ago. He took her to Wessex, her own kingdom where her father rules, and raped...and tortured her to this current state." Hvitserk watched from afar and listened to his brother, your husband, talk about everything that happened to you. All he can worry about is you not waking up. He knows that if you do not awake, he will lose you and his unborn daughter. You barely have a baby bump and this all happened to you. His heart aches in his chest for you and his daughter. After seeing the Healer's face after asking about her, he knew that it was a slim chance that she would pull through. But still, he keeps his head high and prays for the best outcome possible. Against all the odds, that he would get both of you back.

Ivar "We have her back and that is all that matters. We found her in time and she is alive but is very weak. All I ask, is for all of your prayers and good thoughts for my wife. Her and my child need all of us right now. I have my own fears, as many of you all do as well. But we can not focus our time and thoughts on those fears."

"Will she live?" A woman asked.

Ubbe "We do not know right now. The Healer is with her as we speak, amongst many of the medical maiden's to try and get her to awake. But we can't know for sure."

"Why would he do this to her?" A man asked.

Ivar "He knew how much she means to me. He knew of her dragon's, and wanted them for himself. So he took measures to ensure that he would get them. To his dissatisfaction, he did not get them."

"Where is he now?" The same man asked.

Hvitserk "Burned to ashes. Now, go back to your duties." Everyone paused for a moment, then did as they were told. Hvitserk looks at his brother's.

Hvitserk "We can't know for sure, Ubbe?"

Ubbe "We don't know if she will make it, Hvitserk. I was not going to lie to our people!" Hvitserk attempts to hit him but Ubbe dodges, only to pull his brother into an embrace.

Ubbe "Stop...stop." he tries to get out of the hug, but Ubbe does not let him go. Hvitserk began to cry. The anger turned to dispar and disbelief.

Hvitserk "She has to wake up...she has to." Ivar walks over to his sobbing brother and puts his hand on his shoulder.

Ivar "She will. She is strong. She has endured many battles, she will win this one. Okay brother?" Hvitserk nods.

Hvitserk "Will you come see her with me? I don't want to see her alone."

Ivar "Of course, let's go. Ubbe, you are in control until further notice."

Ubbe "Alright. Let me know how she is, yes?" Ivar agrees and walks away.

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

When they walk into the chamber's, they see you still unconscious. Your bruising and cuts are healed. Only scars remain from your deep cuts. It is a visual relief, but the fear is still fresh in their minds. The Healer looks up at his king and smiles.

Ivar "What, why are you smiling?"

Healer "Her fever has come down immensely."

Hvitserk "And what does that mean exactly?"

Healer "She should awake very soon, Hvitserk."

Ivar "Are you certain?"

Healer "Ah yes. I can see her eye's opening when I touch her. She should make a healthy recovery." Ivar forces a smile, but he is still having those waves of uncertainty.

Hvitserk "What of the child? You said that she will not make it through the night. Is that still the case?" The Healer places his hand over your belly and silences himself and the maiden's in the room. He closes his eyes, waiting to see visions of the near future. Once his eyes open, he looks at Ivar.

Healer "She is alive," Ivar sighs from holding his breath, "with the antibiotics in Y/n's system, Y/n has a better fighting chance, therefore, so does the child."

Hvitserk "So she and the baby are going to live?"

Healer "My vision's never fail me, Hvitserk. They never lie. I can see Y/n waking later today and her having the baby in the near future. So yes, Hvitserk, she and the baby are going to live." Hvitserk puts his head in his palms in a state of relief. Ivar starts to cry tears of joy and relief. The Healer and the maiden's have been in here tending to you for over two hours. The wait has been agonizing. So to hear him say that you and the child will live, is the best news that they could have ever received. They prepared themselves mentally for the worst, but prayed for the best. And their prayers were answered.

Healer "I was worried, as you both were of course, but once I healed her wounds...it is as if her body shifted into fight mode and she started to heal herself."

Ivar "That's our girl." Hvitserk laughs and nods in agreement.

Maiden's "She will be fairly sore. Even after healing her wounds, her body is still going to feel like they're there. So she will need to take it easy, my king."

Ivar "She will. She won't have to lift a finger until she is more than ready. Thank you. All four of you, thank you. And thank you for healing my wife." He looked at the Healer directly.

Healer "I took away her wounds, Ivar. But she is healing herself." He said and then left the room. Hvitserk sniffs away his last tear and smiles, looking down at you. He moved a piece of hair that fell upon your eye and placed a kiss on your forehead. Ivar watches with a heart so full of love. Seeing his brother as in love with you as he is, makes him feel so happy. He loves Hvitserk, more than his other brother's. Bjron and Sigurd have passed but he used to have four brother's, now only two. Having Hvitserk and Ubbe rule by his side in good faith, is more than he could have ever asked for. Hvitserk and Ivar have grown close this past year for many reasons, but now more than ever, he really feels like his brother. He loves seeing him gush over you as he does. When you awake, things are going to be different. You are going to be safe. Safer than you once were.

Hvitserk "You are right, Ivar. She is strong."

Ivar "I know that I am right. She is a fighter. So strong that she would have beaten Lagertha herself if she was given the chance."

Hvitserk chuckles, "Yes. That would be a sight to see, that's for sure."

Ivar smiles, "You love her, don't you?"

Hvitserk "Is that even a question, brother? Yes, I do."

Ivar "I am glad to hear that. I am happy to see that you are in love again."

Hvitserk "I did not think that it was going to be possible, but here she is. A true blessing for all of us."

Ivar smirks, "That is very true," he sighs, I can't wait to see her beautiful eyes again.."

Hvitserk "I know. I miss them. I miss her voice, and her smile. The way her face lights up when she sees either me or you."

Ivar "We are her everything, you know that yes?"

Hvitserk "I do, I know it very well. And she is ours."

Ivar "I will go and inform Ubbe of her state, you can stay with her. I'll be back later." Hvitserk nods and lays down beside you on the bed.

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

Ubbe and Torvi are sitting in yours and his throne. Not going to lie, it bothered Ivar. Seeing Torvi sit where you once did. Now Ubbe, he is allowed because he is his brother and will be king of Kattegat one day, but to see Torvi...infuriated him.

Ivar "What are you doing in my wife's throne, huh?"

Torvi "I-I am sorry. I will move-"

Ivar "My wife is clinging to life and you have the nerve to sit where she sat?!"

Torvi "My apologies. I was not thinking clearly, Ivar. I am too very worried about her."

Ivar chuckles, "Oh is that so? Because you don't seem so worried to me, Torvi. You and Ubbe were just laughing moments ago."

Ubbe "I am trying to get our minds off of the situation, brother."

Ivar takes a step back and realizes that maybe he has overreacted. His emotions have been all over the place since the day that you were taken.

Ivar "S-sorry Torvi. I am just worried..I shouldn't have shouted."

Torvi "It is alright. I completely understand. Ubbe was the same way when we lost our Hali." Ubbe's head sinks to the floor and rests.

Ivar "Ubbe, look at me," he lifts his brother head up, "Y/n will be okay. The Healer told us."

Ubbe "He did?"

Ivar "Yes. Her body, visibly, is perfect besides some scars. But she is still not awake. The maidens said that she will be very sore when she does."

Ubbe "Why, if she is healed?!"

Ivar "On the outside, she is healed. But not on the inside. She has to heal on the inside herself." Ubbe sighs, "But she is strong and she will heal soon enough. I am worried too, Ubbe. I fear that if I get my hopes up too high, I will get put down and something will happen and take a turn for the worst. So right now, things are looking good."

Ubbe "Well that is good. I will not stop praying until I see for myself that her eyes are open. Until then, I will worry."

Ivar "As will I, Ubbe. As will I."

…

Hvitserk plays with your hair and rests his head upon yours. He so wishes that you will awake like the Healer has informed them. He misses everything about you. You have been unconscious for most of the day. They rescued you in the morning hours. As soon as you got in the boat, you fell into unconsciousness, and that was around midday. He misses you saying his name, he misses literally everything about you. As if you were already gone. He decides to lift you in his arms, and take you to your dragon's. Maybe that will give you even more strength to make you wake up. When Ivar sees Hvitserk carrying you, at first he was confused, but then he looked out the window to where he was leading you, and saw Ryuu's wing and knew exactly what he was doing.

Ubbe "What on earth is he doing?"

Ivar "He is taking her to her dragon's." He said with a smile on his face.

When Ryuu, Eldr and Neith saw you in Hvitserk's arm's, their bodies went into a mode so strong.

Hvitserk "Easy...easy…" Neith is the first to sniff your body. Her face is so large that one sniff of you, she takes in all of you. Once she pulls back, Ryuu is the next to check on you. He is the most aware and worried of the dragon's. His noises make that clear. He squeaks and growls, trying to get your attention. Hvitserk looks down at you, trying to see if any of this is working. When Ryuu nudges you with his snout, you push up against Hvitserk. Next he sees your fingers start to move on their own.

Hvitserk "It is working. Eldr, c'mere boy!" Eldr does as he is commanded and checks on you. He nudges and brushes up against you. Neith and Ryuu make noises so loud that it hurts Hvitserk's ears. You start to stir in Hvitserk's arm's, so much so that he feels like it is working perfectly.

Hvitserk "..Y/n..baby can you hear me?" He starts to rock you in his arm's, trying to get you to awake completely. "Come back to me Y/n. Please baby, come back to me. Y/n...Y/n can you hear me?" Neith is so worried at this point that she blows out fire into the air, striking down a few birds. You start to move your arms, and then your fingers start to patter on his chest.

Hvitserk "Open your eyes, baby. Come on...please, open your eyes.." he leans down and kisses your forehead. When he lifts his face back up, he sees your eyes slowly start to open. Hvitserk's breathing hitches and his eyes start to water. Your eyes flutter to open completely, so Ryuu takes it upon himself to nudge you again, making your eyes open fully.

Hvitserk "Baby…"

"...hey Hvitserk.." you mumble and whisper.

Hvitserk "Oh.." he looks up at the sky and mouths 'thank you' to the gods, "hi my love." You look at him and smile. Your muscles contract and you use them to hold onto him. You look over and see your beautiful dragon's.

"Hi my babies.." Neith is so ecstatic that she leaps off of the ground and does a flip in the air and then comes back to the ground.

Hvitserk "Sweetheart.." you look up at him. "our daughter is okay." That is all that you needed to hear before breaking down into tears. He holds you and cries with you.

"Are you certain?"

Hvitserk "The Healer saw her, she is okay. You both will be okay."

"..I..I love you so much."

Hvitserk "I love you, baby. Always."

"Can I see if I can walk?"

Hvitserk hesitates but agrees. He places you down but holds onto your hips.

Hvitserk "...are you okay?"

Hvitserk "C'mere." You walk to him and wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him gently. When he pulls back, he has more tears in his eyes.

"Yes..yes I'm okay!" Hvitserk let's go of you and let's you slowly walk towards him. "I'm sore but I'm good.." Seeing you walk for the first time, is a miracle to him. Especially after how he found you this morning, that was the worst sight ever imaginable.

Hvitserk "I thought that I would never be able to kiss you again." You wipe his tears away and smile.

"But you are. I'm not going anywhere."

Hvitserk "Please don't. I don't think I would be able to live without you."

"I wouldn't either. So let's stay together, yes?"

Hvitserk smiles "Yes." He leans down and kisses you again. He takes your hand in his own and starts to walk with you.

"...Ivar!"

Hvitserk chuckles, "He will be more than happy to see you awake." You walk with Hvitserk hand in hand into the home. When Ivar looks up, he see's his wife not only awake, but walking.

You smile when his eyes catch your own, and his heart just about explodes in his ribcage. You are okay, you are alive. And in that moment, he felt like he just won the world.

@hvitserkmarcosource @a-mess-of-fandoms @youbloodymadgenius @jzr201 @conaionaru @ivarzeitgeist @herestherealproblem @heavenly1927 @saldelys @readsalot73 @motherofkattegat @ivarsgoddess

#the battle between love and fire #ivar the god #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk #ubbe lothbrok #torvi vikings #vikings #alex hogh andersen #marco ilsø #marco ilsoe #jordan patrick smith

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hokkaidossoul12 · 4 years

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I have another OC I made, her name is Myra Yates and she is a shopkeeper, she is about 23 years old. She doesn’t have weapons but instead has powers like being able to change her form (into five different things or half of one of the things, her five forms are her banshee form (of course), a brown doe, a white squirrel, a brown and red frilled lizard or a light brown cougar). In her banshee form she lets out a screech which can explode eyes and make ears bleed, she can also faze through walls as a banshee, she can also sense if a puppet is about to die or is dead and knows where the bodies are. She has a mother (Josie Yates) and father (Willard Yates), she is good friends with the Faceless bandit, Penny Hemsworth, Mother Dove, Finnley, Dorothy, Cashmere, Corbin Croc, Carrie Lanscaster, Luther galloway, Maude Galloway, Fannie Richmond, Vincent Greers and Vivian Webb, Vivian is also Myra's girlfriend. Her height is around Penny Hemsworth’s height (in my AU).

Backstory: Backstory: When Myra was a young girl, she grew up with her parents, Josie and Willard. Before Myra was born, her parents were very poor and barely had enough money to afford food, water and even a proper home to stay in. Josie was pregnant around this time and both parents thought that there was a big chance that Josie would lose Myra before she was even born. Before they became poor, they wanted a baby for so long but...after they became in dept many months ago because of how much they spend on Josie's pregnancy that ended up both getting into a poor condition. It seemed for them everything was at loss, at least it seemed that way, but... that all changed very quickly for them. Within the next morning, Josie and Willard were both huddled on the ground in their very, very worn down home when they heard a knock on their door. They with both scared that it was someone coming to boot them out of their home, Josie's eyes filled with tears at the thought, Willard comforted his very emotional wife, hugging her and kissing her cheek while telling her "whatever happens...I'll make sure you're safe...even if it kills me." Willard finally picks himself off the ground and shakily makes his way towards the door, he paused in front of door, afraid to open it, but he finally brought himself to grab the rusty door handle and open the door. A young boy who dressed and looked very wealthy stood at the door, it was one of the richfolks' children, Willard was sure that this kid would most likely get Josie and him kicked from his home, he sighed and readied himself for what the boy was going to say. But...the boy didn't do anything that he'd expected, instead the boy asked about his financial situations and told Willard he knew about Josie's pregnancy. Willard was confused and nervous at first but he ended up speaking out honestly to the boy, then... the boy suddenly gave Willard a money slip, this confused Willard even more than it did and looked down at the slip, his eyes widened, there was thirty thousand dollars on it. That money was enough to repay their dept as well as buying a new house, proper food and water, new clothing and much more, but...he also he had to owe the boy back, "t-thank you...b-but what do I-" Willard was cut off by the boy, "don't worry about owing me, I giving this to you because you need it, both of you do..." the boy spoke in a calm sympathetic tone as he gave the older male a small smile. This caused Willard to freeze, his eyes welled up with tears, they young boy's eyes widen and tried to ask if he did something wrong, not understanding why Willard was crying until the older male hugged him, the younger male hugged him back. After Willard pulled away he asked what the young boy's name was, the boy answered, Micheal...that was his name. After a few moments, Micheal said his goodbyes before leaving the doorstep and walking out of the property and in the direction of town. Several months had passed, Willard and Josie payed their dept and ended up moving to a new home, they bought food, water, brand new furniture, clothing and other stuff they needed, then a week onward was when Myra was born. As Myra grew up, she was given all the best care from her parents, but...because her parents were too focused on her and getting her new things they nearly went into dept again, but Willard wasn't going to let Myra be put through what they did, so...Myra's father decided to try finding a job, unfortunately...he couldn't find any sort of job around the time no matter how hard he tried to find one. It came down to where going to run out of food, water and even lose their home. But...one day, Willard found another way to make money, gambling. Both Josie and him thought that it would be a bad idea at first, unfortunately...that was the only option they had left to keep the three of them out of dept, so that's what Willard did. For many months, Myra's father went off to the town's saloon to gamble for money, he was very careful with how he played and always knew when to tap out and go home, which resulted in him coming home with lots of bandit bucks, which was plenty of money to keep them out of dept for months on end. It got to a point where even Myra's mother began to gamble too, both of them getting plenty of money afterwards, this went pretty smoothly three years. That was until one day, a mysterious figure had began making an appearance in the saloon, drinking and gambling til it's hard content, but...it seemed to also have a knack for cheating certain puppets who had big win streaks. One day, both Myra's parents decided both to go to the saloon during the night, they of course got someone to babysit Myra before planning to go out. As Willard and Josie were gambling that night, they mysterious figure was there watching them gamble, they both knew that the figure would try start a game with them and cheat them out of their winnings...so they thought of a plan...but it wasn't a pleasant one, they thought if they out-cheated the figure and make them lose the match. Of course, they were right, the figure did try to start a new game with them so they went along with their plan and...their plan worked, Josie and Willard won the game by out-cheating the figure but...this seemed to anger the figure a lot. Suddenly, the mysterious figure stood up from their chair, stood up from the table, grabbing the big table before the figure growled and smashed the table with it's bare hand, breaking it in half. Josie and Willard got up from the table backing off, the figure storming over to them, suddenly the figure revealed itself to be a black ghoul with blood red eyes. It towered over them, it's voice deep and menacing, "SO...YOU THINK YOU COULD OUT-CHEAT ME, HUH? WELL, YOU'RE VERY NAIVE FOR DOING THAT..." the ghoul chuckled before grabbing Josie and Willard by both their throats and throwing them both into a table, the table tipping to the ground with Willard and Josie underneath, bruising the couple badly, the ghoul laughed as he floated over to the couple. "YOU SHOULD'VE STAYED HOME WITH YOUR PRECIOUS DAUGHTER! BUT NOW...SHE'LL SUFFER FOR YOUR MISTAKE!" then before Josie and Willard could react, the black ghoul suddenly formed into a ball of dark light before disappearing out the saloon door, Josie and Willard looked at each other in panic as they raced out the door as quickly as they could out the door and tried running as quickly as they could back home to Myra. Meanwhile, Myra was sitting next to a heater in the living room, warming herself up as she sipped on some flavored milk. Soon...it was time for young Myra to go to bed the babysitter went to Myra and waited for her to finished her milk and once Myra was finished with it the babysitter took Myra's now empty cup and went to rinse it and put it away, but...once the babysitting had gone out of the room that same ball of dark light had fazed through the wall and into the living room in front of Myra, suddenly the dark light had formed back into the black ghoul, young Myra looked up at the figure with fear in her eyes as she shook. Then, without a warning the black ghoul grabbed Myra, lifting her off the ground, locking it's eyes with her as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. Then, when Myra's parents had finally made it to the front door and bursting inside their own home, they along with the babysitter heard young Myra screaming loudly, the babysitter and Myra's parents rushed into the room to save Myra but...it was too late. Myra's eyes turned black as she was being held by the black ghoul, the ghoul let out a cackled before putting Myra down and disappearing, Josie and Willard's eyes filled with tears as they rushed to Myra's aid, their precious little girl laid in their arms unresponsive but not dead. In the morning, young Myra finally came back into consciousness, shaking and crying at what the black ghoul had done to her, so Willard and Josie then agreed to each other that they would never gamble again after what had happened to Myra, they instead made sure of Myra's safety instead. As many years passed onward (Myra would be about twenty) Myra had gained powers since her experience with the black ghoul, it got to a time where Myra had to move out of her parent's home and start living on her own. Once she packed all her things she left her home, she found a small house to move into, she also found an empty abandoned store to which she took it for her own and decided to start her own business. After three years went by, she met Vivian and they became a couple from then onward.

She Likes: Singing, making and selling her own stuff, crafting cute supplies (like animal stickers, cute stamps, notebooks, mini bags, colorful bottles, music boxes, mini instruments (except for wind music instruments), juggling bags and mini kits), making accessories (like animal slippers, boots, hats, cute bow ties and hair bows, cute mouth and eye masks, glasses, and bell necklaces), visiting Vivian and hanging out with her, socializing with other puppets and making friends with people who she can relate feelings with.

She Dislikes: When she gets flirted with by other puppets (except for Vivian), when other puppets mess with her friends or her (Showell, Fowler, Otto, Vernon and Betsy), being used as some sort of hostage for a bandit, being forced into doing something she's not comfortable with (it causes her to snap), losing control of her forms (especially her banshee or cougar forms), and irregular patterns or clusters of small holes or bumps (she has Trypophobia).

#showdown bandit #showdownbanditoc #MyraYates #banshee #puppet #hokkaidossoul12 #information #backstory #OC

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aurorarose · 4 years

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a true king;;

F E A T U R I N G : stefan capulet (with guest appearances from his parents who don’t have a name (lol) and leah capulet)

T I M E F R A M E : 1991 - 2011

S Y N O P S I S : try as he does to be the king his kingdom needs, stefan forever struggles with what that truly means.

T R I G G E R S : implied verbal abuse

N O T E S : i’m sorry for this but these family trees really got me MESSED UP OVER HERE

According to your father, a true king is one that makes the right decisions even in the most difficult of circumstances.

You’re sixteen at the time. ‘Just a boy,’ as your mother insists whilst scolding him from across the table, and while you’d usually be the the first one to whine and insist that she stop treating you like a child, you feel like a child in that moment. He towers above you, pacing back and forth across the length of the dining hall and clearly incensed after having to witness his son being brought home by the scruff of his neck by the head of his guard and hear the stories of how he’d been found trying to sneak off into the Moors in the early hours of the morning. Every little bit of scolding and shouting and anger hurled your way feels like a new shot of ice right in your veins, and even in spite of your pride you find yourself flinching and wincing each and every time. She’s right - you’re nothing but a child in that moment, reduced to a shivering mass sunk into cushioned back of your seat.

He tells you this sage piece of advice after nearly twenty minutes of verbal barraging have passed, his wide, ring-encrusted hands slamming against the glossy mahogany of the table separating the two of you as he leans menacingly closer. There’s a glint in his eyes that you’ve never seen before - one of an almost manic excitement shrouded by fury - and those very words seem to reverberate in the air in the long silence that follows his statement.

It’s obvious to you then that he knows exactly what you’ve been doing in the Moors. Fraternizing with those beasts - the fairies and pixies and golems and everything that your entire kingdom seemed to despise with such a passion. With Maleficent, foreign and menacing and yet beautiful in a way you’ve never known before. It’s been years that you’ve known her, but even you can’t help but wish you’d never met her while under the weight of your father’s gaze.

It feels like a decade has passed before he speaks again, but when he does, his voice lowers into a near murmur, his weight shifting forward to ensure that the two of you are eye-to-eye. “It’s time for you to make the right decision, son.”

You find yourself alone ten minutes later with the weight of an ultimatum sitting heavy on your shoulders. In theory, it should be an easy decision: Maleficent or the crown. And yet, no matter how you try, you can’t seem to reconcile it. On one hand, you know that choosing to follow the orders laid down by your father would mean hurting the one person who’d always loved you without conditions. She didn’t care about any of it - the fineries, crown, or title - but about you, and you know without a shadow of a doubt that doing such a deed would inevitably turn her from you for the rest of time itself. Then again, you also knew that there was nothing more important to you than your father’s approval, and with the threat of disownment hanging over your head you’ve found your mind thrown into a sort of blind panic to do whatever he wants.

You debate over it for weeks, sick to your stomach with the possibilities juggling around your skull. You’re not sure you’ve made the right decision even after the deed is done and the threat of the Moors is practically made extinct in one swift power move, but your one comfort is that it has won you the ultimate protection - the crown. At the end of the day, you’d long since decided that power was worth any sacrifice, and no matter how much it hurt, you’d continue to chase it for as long as you live.

⚜⚜⚜

According to your wife, a true king is one that knows how to show weakness.

It’s stated at the point of pure exasperation, her face twisted in frustration and illuminated by the dim light shining from the opposite side of the room as she pushes herself off of the bed. The way she glowers at you once she’s whirled around to face you once more from a safe few strides away speaks volumes of her state of mind; she’s mad, and you’re the reason for it.

You’ve not been married for more than a month, and yet your marriage already seems to be in shambles. It’s would be funny were you not on the receiving end of her ire, and even so you can’t help but find it foolish of her to have expected any differently out of you. This was no more than a political union, after all - as most royal marriages had been for centuries - and yet she persisted in a hopeless, endless battle to soften you to the idea of her.

You would be lying if you said you expected any less of her. Leah Montaigne, after all, had quite the reputation of her own before she’d ever been named yours. Beautiful, intelligent, and charming... she was everything expected of a queen and more, but you also knew that there was an undercurrent of cunning that ran under it all and a willingness to use her charms to get ahead. It was smart, even you could admit that. Women, after all, were so often seen as weak and emotionally driven, so for her to play right into that stereotype and act the part of the demure ingenue as an act of manipulation was brilliant. You can’t even say it wouldn’t work on you if you’d not been wise to her ways and unwavered by the prospect of romantic love. That concept had been dead to you for years now, and so try as she did to win you over piece by piece, she’d been met with nothing with resistance just as she had just moments ago. Her games weren’t working, and now here she was espousing the values of weakness as if it would somehow sway you.

Leah stands there for a moment, silent as her figure framed by the dimming light of day shining from the window behind her. Her mouth opens as if she’s ready to say something else only to clamp shut once more, and it happens once again, then twice more before she finally finds her words. “You don’t have to love me,” she deadpans, the usually soft timbre of her voice colored with a new intensity he’d never quite heard from her before, “And honestly? You don’t even have to like me if you don’t want to. But you do have to work with me - whether you like it or not.”

Your first instinct is to brush her words off, even as she whisks herself out of the room in the type of hurry that practically screamed that she was more than unhappy with you. That being said, those very thoughts linger in your mind, playing on a feedback loop as if it were some sort of mantra, and slowly but surely the realization dawns on you that you may know your wife, but you don’t know her - not really, at least. You don’t know her hopes and dreams, nor do you know her intentions. Hell, she could be just as averse to the idea of this marriage as you are, and yet she’d done just as she said you needed to... she worked with you.

The change isn’t instant, but slowly but surely the relationship between the two of you develops. It’s not love, nor will it ever be, but it is a partnership and you couldn’t ask for a better woman to be by your side throughout it all. The very same woman is the one who gives you an heir just a few short years later - a beautiful baby girl who shared her mother’s golden hair and your blue eyes - and it’s only when your daughter is born that you finally find enough inner peace to begin to come around to the idea of allowing yourself a little bit of joy.

And then Maleficent came, all fury and flames and fully determined to tear that joy apart piece by piece.

You would’ve been fine with accepting the consequences. The nightmares of what you’d done to her had haunted you for years, leaving you in a constant state of unrest where guilt threatened to eat you alive at any moment. If anything, you’d expected her to strike you dead as soon as you saw that achingly familiar face emerge from the crowd, and you supposed that you deserved what was coming to you. Ultimately, though, she chose a fate worse than death as her personal form of vengeance; instead of taking you as recompense, her attention was turned to something far, far more precious.

The gasps of despair were audible as Maleficent’s curse became fully actualized. Your child - the innocent little babe fast asleep no more than a few feet away from him - would be the one to pay the price for her father’s actions with her own life. For as long as you’d worn the crown, you’d never felt anything more than invincible, but here and now, staring into the eyes of the woman who was singlehandedly able to take everything you loved from you without so much of an afterthought, you felt truly powerless for the first time. Your wife’s words from years prior echo in your mind as if some sort of belated reminder, and without another thought, you do the only thing you can do in that moment: you beg.

It’s humiliating. Here you are, on your knees before your subjects and contemporaries and before her in particular, pleading with her to spare your daughter’s laugh. And god, the look of joy on her face at the vision before her and her concession to take your thoughts into consideration gives you a sense of false hope for a mere moment... until she begins to speak once more. A loophole of sorts - the one thing that could wake his daughter from that century-long sleep was true love’s kiss. The crowd around you seems relieved, but you’re no more comforted than you were before; looking into the wicked glee gleaming in her eyes, you know that she knows as well as you do that true love doesn’t exist and that all efforts were ultimately for nothing. Aurora was doomed, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Weakness ultimately fails you in that moment. And with that, you vowed you’d never allow yourself to be weak - not again.

⚜⚜⚜

According to your advisors, a true king is one that will go to no ends to win a war, no matter the cost.

They’ve witnessed every single moment of the past hour, from the arrival of one of the three faeries he’d entrusted his daughter with sixteen years prior to the moment she broke the news that transferring the girl over to his care that evening was simply impossible - not when the signs of Maleficent’s handiwork remained so evident and unavoidable. They’d also witnessed the aftermath of that very message, his irrational, intense fury that had reduced you to a screaming, red-faced mess as he stormed about the room and insisted that you refused to let the damned woman win after all these years. She’d kept your daughter from you for sixteen years and was now threatening to keep her from you even longer, and that was simply something you wouldn’t stand for.

The faerie had told you plenty of other inconvenient things. For one, the girl remained apparently devastated by the news of her lineage and had been practically inconsolable for hours. It was indicated to you that most of it had to do with some boy she’d met - a peasant, though there was no other real information that could be provided about him - but that ultimately, the girl was still at the cottage, sick with grief as the other two faeries tried in vain to bring her around to the idea. She allegedly didn’t want to come home, which you still find to be completely egregious, if not weak-minded of the girl. She’s sixteen, after all, and practically a woman at this point - she should know better.

Ultimately, however, you don’t care what she wants, nor what she feels. She can cry and wail and bemoan her royal status as a cruel twist of fate for all you care; so long as you could be victorious in keeping Maleficent from having the final laugh, her mental state is of little to no concern.

It’s cruel of you. One advisor tells you as much after voicing such to the faerie and ordering her off to fetch the girl and bring her back to you. The old you would’ve thought so, too - a twenty year old boy-king with the world at his feet and some fatherly obligation to protect an innocent child from facing undue wrath - but after sixteen years spent tracking and calculating Maleficent’s every move, this is no longer a moral fight for you. It’s a war in the form of a chess game, with each person watching and waiting to make the move that would eventually blow the other off the board. Aurora is nothing more than the final pawn in that game, a trophy for you to seize and wave in Maleficent’s face as if boasting that you got her first, and that is a victory you want more than anything else.

It’s a long, terse few minutes spent pacing circles about the room and muttering angrily to yourself before another advisor dares to speak up. The point he brings up is a good one - what good would having the child here do if she was still at risk with every passing moment? Could they feasibly protect her when Maleficent was only growing stronger with every passing moment? It takes plenty of reasoning before he so much as manages to get through with you, but it finally sticks after he utters that phrase to you. After all, she could win this battle all she wants, but you were in it to win the war.

And so, begrudging at best, you make the call. Aurora wouldn’t be returning home that evening, nor would she be staying within the kingdom; instead, she’d be going elsewhere - far enough away that it would be nearly impossible to find her - until he could figure out a way to get rid of that damned faerie once and for all. Granted, the decision comes with some sticky points between making sure the word got to the faeries before they set out to the castle and arranging something with King Hubert to get an extension on the political arrangement that they’d planned sixteen years prior with their own children right at the center, but at the end of it, you know there’s no other real choice for you to make.

Your plans have been dashed, and in spite of your best efforts, Maleficent has managed to gain the upper hand on you. That being said, you know full and well that you won’t rest until she’s gone for good, and you’re willing to do just about anything to ensure you’re the one to get their revenge in the very end.

#tl;dr: stefan capulet is a Bad Man #also this is me yet again saying i would Die to see a maleficent wandering around here pls and thanks #{ self-para }#[ c: stefan capulet ]

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jungle321jungle · 5 years

Text

Forms of Family 3

Part Three

Dee’s nerves were shot.

He had spent so much time- he didn’t even know how much anymore- talking to doctors who asked him the same questions so many times he wasn’t sure he knew the answer to them anymore.

On top of big general worry over Virgil’s condition, Patton would sporadically start to cry out of worry (in any other situation Dee would find it adorable), the twins were antsy as they began to rough house with one another, and finally Logan paced insistently as he kept trying to call their father (using Dee’s phone) to no avail.

Virgil was paler than he usually was, and his small chest heaved as he took short shallow breaths. His dark eyes were closed tightly, as if he was pain- and it only pained Dee more.

“Daddy?” Dee looked away from Virgil at the sound of Patton’s voice as he looked up to see the doctor had returned.

Patton climbed out his arms allowing him to stand slowly before he followed the doctor further away from the boys to speak.

“Based on the tests run and what you explained to us we believe he has a virus most likely caught for your other son, which led to an infection.”

Dee nodded digesting the information, “So he’ll be okay?”

“He will, but we will need to stay here for possibly a few days so he can have antibiotics, and monitoring. I’ll have him transferred out of the ER and into a more permanent room in a different part of the hospital.”

Weight fell from Dee’s chest as he gave a sigh of relief. No he didn’t want to be there longer, but long as Virgil was going to be okay that’s what mattered.

~~~~

Dee was thankful for his friends.

Despite his telling them that things were fine Brenda, Miranda, and more had come to offer well wishes. They brought him a change of clothes from the house and activities for the boys to do, and they had even offered to let the boys sleep in their homes as Dee was rooted to the spot.

Everyone was there to offer support.

Everyone but his husband.

“Daddy?” Patton asked pulling on his shirt.

Dee nodded and stood up and after making sure the other boys were fine he headed out the room to the bathroom.

He was gone for less than five minutes.

Less than five minutes.

And yet when he got back what did he find?

Virgil crying, Logan holding back a kicking and screaming Roman, and Remus- Remus had sunk his teeth into the nurses hand.

Dee was frozen and shock for half a moment until he noticed the nurse’s hand rise up to strike. But Dee’s fingers curled around her wrist before she could dare.

At his sudden appearance Remus released the woman and she wrenched her hand back. She tried to move back so Dee let her go.

“Do everyone a favor and watch your kids,” she snapped.

Dee held back a retort, he wasn’t going to piss off someone watching Virgil. “Remus apologize, now.”

Remus looked smug, but he gave an apology anyways, “Sorry.”

She hurried from the room then leaving Dee alone with his sons. The first thing he did was take a breath before he picked up Virgil and bounced him a few times to get the baby to calm down a bit. When he had quieted slightly he turned the others, “What happened?”

Logan let go of Roman, who then took up post beside Remus before he spoke. “Vee was crying and Remus wanted to help, but she came in and said we couldn’t touch him!”

“He’s our brother not hers!” Remus added in. “I know how to hold him! So she tried to pull me away, so I bit her! And she tried to hit me!”

“So I kicked her! Until Logan became a buzzkill!”

“She didn’t want you to touch him because it’s a matter of being sanitary, not familial ties,” Logan explained.

“So?”

“Yeah so?”

Dee gave a sigh, “You can’t bite people Remus. And I need you guys to listen to what the doctors and nurses say, alright? It’s what’s best for Virgil, okay?”

“Okay...”

“Fine... But if she’s mean to him, I’ll kick her again.”

Dee held back an eye roll (Logan didn’t), “Fine. Whatever, just sit and quiet down.”

“Fine parenting,” Logan muttered.

“Logan, I’m not in the mood.”

“Noted.”

~~~~

It took two nurses, one doctor‍, and his friend Miranda to pull him away from the hospital room. But the furthest he would go is the first floor to get a coffee.

“So glad I pried you from that room,” Miranda commented as they stepped out of the elevator onto their floor.

Dee sipped at his coffee, “Yeah, the bad coffee is totally worth it.”

She rolled her eyes and was quiet for a moment before she spoke, “Have you heard from...?”

Dee gave a sigh as his fingers involuntarily clenched and unclenched into fists. “No. I left half a million messages and sent twice that in texts... and I got nothing.”

Miranda paused in thought, before she stopped in her walk and turned to face him with a serious look. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but personally I think you’re better off without him.”

“Miranda I-”

“I’m not going to overstep more than that. But if you are still set on trying to contact him, maybe you could try using someone else’s phone? He might have you blocked.”

Dee opened and closed his mouth unsure of how to proceed, but she nodded slowly.

“If you need a phone feel free to use mine.”

He watched as she pulled out the device and held it out to him, but he shook his head and turned. He couldn’t be blocked... right?

“We should head back,” were the only words he could force out as he turned to walk the way they had come.

The walk back was silent, until he slid open the door and was greeted with the scene inside.

“I win!”

The shout came from Roman and Remus playing some game on their iPad in the corner. Apparently Remus had won whatever it was. Beside them Logan was nose deep in a book while Patton lay on the floor with a coloring book. It was a scene so normal he almost wished he could pick the whole thing up and drop it in his house. That Virgil would be healthy and things could be back to normal.

When he entered the room they all looked up at him, but he said nothing making his way back to Virgil.

“When can V come home?” Patton asked him.

Dee gave a sigh as he sat in his seat, “Hopefully soon Patt. Tomorrow or the day after.”

“That’s far away.”

“I know, but it’s to make sure Virgil is feeling his best, alright?”

“He needs to feel better faster then.”

Dee nodded, “I agree.”

~~~~

“Pacific.”

“Pacific. P-A-C-I-F-I-C. Pacific.”

“Paralysis.”

“Paralysis. P-A-R-A-L-Y-S-I-S. Paralysis. Come on give me something harder.”

“Fine, sorry, I thought we starting easy and building up. Um so... exasperation.”

“What’s the point?” Roman interjected. “Logan wins every year. He doesn’t need to practice. He’s the best speller! ...Er...”

“Speller. And why do you go to soccer practice then?” Logan asked him. “You guys won the last three games.”

“We don’t play soccer anymore,” Remus put in. “We’re gonna do karate.”

Dee sighed, “That’s not confirmed yet.”

“We can’t do karate?” Roman asked. God the kid sounded like Dee had done something terrible. He grimaced,

“I’m not saying that either. I need to look into some things first.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“It’s a maybe.”

"Maybes are yeses!"

Dee gave a sigh as Logan frowned, “They are not. Do- do you know the definition of both words?”

“It’s not a yes right now,” Patton threw in. “He has to talk to Dad first!”

Dee felt a pain in his chest as he gave the boy a smile, “E-exactly Patt.”

“What’s the next word again?” Logan asked changing the subject.

Dee nodded thankful for it, “Um... we were on exasperation.”

“Exasperation. R-O-M-A-N-A-N-D-R-E-M-U-S. Exasperation.”

Dee just shook his head, “I need a nap.”

~~~~

When the name flashed on his screen Dee swore his heart stopped beating.

His eyes flickered to his sons to find Logan watching him curiously. He gave a hard swallow as he grabbed his phone tightly and walked out into the hallway. The nothingness in his heart was suddenly replaced by a jackhammer as he finally answered the call.

“Hello?” His voice shaky, quiet, and weaker than he wanted it to be.

“You always take forever to pick up,” grunted the voice on the other side.

“Virgil he-”

“Where’s your watch?”

Dee felt himself deflate, “What?”

“Where’s you watch?” He asked again. “The one I gave you on our honeymoon? I need it.”

“What? W-why?”

“Does it matter? Where is it?”

“I don’t know. But why-”

“Of course,” there was a banging and shuffling on the other side. “You fucking lose everything. I already checked your side table and the safe, do you have any ideas on where it could be?”

“Virgil is in the hospital,” Dee stated bluntly. “He has been for two nights now.”

“What does that have to do with a watch?”

Dee gave a laugh of disbelief as his anger began to rise, “Nothing at all. But he’s your son too, so shouldn’t that be where your concern lie? With your son? Or with a fucking watch?”

“...Don’t swear around the kids.”

“Oh now you’re concerned?” Dee shouted. “You hate that I swear, but you can’t fucking come to the hospital see your son? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Don’t raise your-“

“Don’t! Don't you even try to tell me what to do anymore. I’m done with you and all this bullshit. So listen up, you have two choices. You come here now and be with your children, or you get the fuck out of our lives and never contact us again.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Yes I can! I’m done lying to the boys! I’m done lying to myself! I gave you your choices. Come and be a father or get out of our lives.”

“Damien,” his voice was slow and angry, but Dee couldn’t bring himself to care.

“What?”

“You are aware that I pay for everything right?”

“...I guess you made your choice.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“If your money is more important that your children then you made your choice. So feel free to take your money with you. I’ll keep my kids.”

“Damien I-”

Dee cut him off by hanging up the phone. He stared down at it for a moment before he took a deep breath to stop the tears burning at his eyes.

“Dad?”

The soft call came from behind him and Dee turned to see Logan and the twins standing in the doorway. He opened and closed his mouth, but no words came out. He moved back into the room and sat in his chair before he felt small arms pull him into a hug.

He lost his battle against the tears as he hugged Roman back. There was a short pause before the other three joined and Dee held his children tightly to his chest.

“Daddy’s not coming back?” Patton asked quietly.

Dee forced himself to take a deep breath as he pulled back enough to look them all in the eye. “Our family is going to be a bit different now,” he started slowly. “But it’s okay. There’s many forms of families, and now ours is just us. But it’s okay, we’ll be okay. Can you guys trust me on that?”

Logan nodded and adjusted his glasses, “One hundred percent.”

“Good, I’m gonna need your help Logan.”

“You needed my help even when he was around.”

Dee smiled ignoring the way his tears still fell, “Glad I can count on you.”

“We thought he wasn’t coming back anyway,” Roman admitted.

Remus nodded solemnly, “Dad’s never been gone this long... Does he really not care anymore?”

“I’m sorry,” Dee told them both. “I want to think he does, but I don’t know. But I’ll be here for you guys regardless okay?”

Dee looked to Patton and it pained him to find tears in the young boy’s eyes. He pulled him close mumbling apologies as he was unsure what else to do. But Patton held him back saying that he loved him. And that was good enough.

Because even without him, they were still a family. And while some could try to cause rifts and difficulties to break them up, Dee would always be there for them as their father- as their dad who asked for nothing in return.

~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading!!!!

Part One • Part Two (1/2) • Part Two (2/2) • Part Three

#roman sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #ao3fic #patton sanders #logan sanders #deciet sanders #dad!deciet #dad!dee #dad!au #formsoffamily #kidfic #thingsssssssssss

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xxbyimm · 5 years

Text

Perfect - Fíli x (human)reader

Hellooooo!!!

My fourth Fíli fic is here!!!! This idea was the first thing that came to mind when I chose the themes.... I hope you all can enjoy this interpretation. Poor young Fíli over here seems to be a bit surprised that this version of him in my story has this adorable and awfully cute side... It happens to the best of us. Fluff coming up! xoxo

Perfect

Summary: Fíli can’t take his eyes off a special someone.

Tags: @theincaprincess @fizzyxcustard @soradragon @deepestfirefun and @legolaslovely @yes-captainstark @burningcoffeetimetravel Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from my taglist!

Warnings: Fluff?

Perfection.

Fíli could not take his eyes off her. She was lying in his arms, a woolen blanket keeping her safe from the chilly temperature that dominated the room after the fire had finally gone out. The prince had watched her as she slept most of the night. First he had admired her features in the gentle yellow light from the hearth, but even now as the first rays of the sun crept through the window, he could not find a single flaw on her.

Pure perfection.

Others had warned him before about the effect someone as special as her would have on him. They claimed he never would be the same dwarf. But young and foolish as he then was, he merely raised a brow and went on with his life. Fíli, the prince of Durin’s folk, would not be charmed this easily.

Now he knew the truth: all the clichés were real. He, a clearheaded dwarf who trusted his knives above anything, was in love. He had not seen it coming, but he fell in head over heels for her anyway. There were no other words for it, none. She was perfection and no one could tell him otherwise.

He shifted in his chair to relieve his back. Apart from the few times the wet-nurse had collected his little princess to nurture her, he had been sitting in the exact same position and holding her in his arms. Fíli held his breath as his daughter made a disgruntled sound, the movements of her daddy making her stir in her sleep.

The prince stroked her cheek gently, easing her back into slumber. Her skin was so soft and so pure, he feared that his own thick, calloused fingers would hurt her.

This baby had no idea how much her parent’s had longed for her and how lucky she was for even being here. The prince and you, her mother, have had a rocky start as a quest to slay a dragon didn’t provide agreeable circumstances for a blooming romance. Nevertheless the two of you hit it off, and he managed to win your heart eventually. But after the both of you miraculously survived the battle of the five armies, the real challenges revealed themselves.

You were human, a fierce ranger from the north. While during the quest those assets had turned out to be life-saving, in these new conditions it made you stand out for all the wrong reasons. Uncle Thorin had risked everything for his nephew when he forced the nobles to approve the marriage and once the two of you finally did tie the knot, the silent disapproval of the court still was hanging like a dark cloud above your newlyweds bliss.

But Fíli wasn’t going to be discouraged by that, and neither were you. You worked effortlessly, day in day out, to make sure no one could find any flaws other than your race. You learned to walk and talk like a true dwarrowdam, and you took up as many tasks as you could manage. Slowly, you learned the unwritten rules of the court and after years, you and your alliance to the prince of Durin were more or less accepted.

There had been one setback though.

For a long time, you refused to even discuss the topic of children, telling your husband that you could not bear to raise a half breed. Fíli had tried to convince you that such a judgement was too harsh, that a child would win over the court just like you had done before it, but you would not hear of it. So the prince had stopped trying, respecting your wishes on the matter. He loved you so much, and that was enough.

He remembered the day you came up to him, in total panic, vividly. Your eyes were wide, and you couldn’t stop rambling about your cycle and how your bleeding had stopped and how that simply was not possible. Fíli had grabbed your hand, asking you the one question that burned on his lips.

‘Love, could it be…’ he had suggested. ‘Could it be possible you’re with child?’ ‘That’s impossible!’ you had objected. ‘I made sure I…’

It turned out not to be so impossible. Fíli heaved a sigh and pulled his daughter a bit closer. She was here, totally unexpected, but most welcome. He would make sure, against all odds, that this little princess would grow up to be the happiest girl in the realm.

‘Daddy will protect you against every foul thing in this world.’ He whispered softly against her skin. ‘I promise.’

His daughter yawned and the prince beamed.

‘Fíli?’ He looked up. You were trying to sit up in the bed, supporting yourself under your arms. ‘Amrâlimê.’ He replied softly while standing up. ‘You have to rest.’ ‘Yes.’ You murmured groggily, while easing yourself back into the pillows. ‘Though it feels like I have slept for an eternity.’ ‘Just a night.’ The prince said as he made his way towards the bed. ‘Oín has been in and out to check in on you.’ ‘And the baby?!’ Your eyes flung wide open and you shot up. Then your face twisted in pain. ‘It feels like I was torn into pieces.’

Fíli grimaced.

Just twenty four hours ago, you had been in labor. It had been wonderful and terrifying at the same time. He had always believed that seeing you grieve was hard, but seeing you in pain and not being able to make it better, was the worst. Although his love and respect for you had risen only more, he was not sure if he ever wanted to endure it again.

‘You need to recover, love.’ he whispered. ‘You had a rough day.’ ‘How is she doing?’ you asked, ignoring him. The prince glanced at the little bundle in his arms and grinned. ‘She’s… perfect.’ ‘Fíli, love…’ you breathed. ‘Have you been up all night?’ The prince shrugged while settling on the bed next to you. ‘You’d think I could sleep? I had to watch over my two ladies.’ You smiled softly and stroked your husband’s jaw. ‘That’s sweet, thank you.

You both watched your daughter in silence as she slowly started to wake up. She stirred in her father’s arms, stretching her little fingers and then balling her hands into tiny fists.

‘She’s…’ Fíli began, his voice laced with emotion. ‘I think she wants her mother.’

You nodded. He watched you as you slowly moved to sit against the cushions. He then carefully lowered the little princess into your arms and wrapped his around yours.

‘Had enough of your father already?’ you cooed. ‘I’m afraid he won’t leave you alone for quite a while, so you’ll have to get used to him stomping around the place and his mustache braids tickling your face…’ ‘I do not stomp!’ the prince objected with a laugh. You chuckled. ‘Lesson one, my husband. As a guy, you’re the minority here now.’ He moved forward and kissed your lips gently. ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

You eased against his chest and heaved a sigh. ‘We still need a name.’ ‘We’ll have a while to decide.’ ‘I know, but…’

The baby gurgled. Her thick eyelashes fanned her cheeks, quivering lightly as she opened her eyes for the first time.

‘Oh!’ you cried out, your voice trembling. ‘Fíli….’

The lump in the prince’s throat made it impossible to speak. Tears welled up in his eyes. His heart nearly burst from all the gratefulness and love that radiated through him. You, the love of his life, had given him what he had longed for. And in that moment, he knew the perfect name for this perfect little baby. The name of your late mother.

‘Welcome to the word, little Avelina…’

#the hobbit #fíli #fili #golden lion #prince of durin's folk #fili appreciation week #gentle fili #daddy fili #god damnit the fluff #even I can't take it #xxbyimm writes #onto theme 5!

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alexmasonking · 4 years

Text

A Nightmare to Remember

Alex and Jessica were jamming out in the car, ready to spend New Years up on the mountain with all their family. The two were blasting a throwback to their early emo middle school days and Jessica was sitting with her back against the door to his car, her feet tapping against his thigh to the beat of the music. “Hopefully this rain will clear up before new years otherwise we might not see many fireworks.” He huffed in a little bit of a pout. The two rounded one of the turns up the mountain when his headlights caught something in the middle of the road. Alex’s arm instinctively shot out to hold Jessica back as he punched on the breaks, but the car just slid and Alex realized he couldn’t reach her on the far side of the car with the way she had been sitting. The two were jerked around as the loud crunch of metal cut through the music and the car spun off the road.

There was no memory of what happened next, all Alex could recall was the throbbing in his head once the car found itself wedged in a more wooded area near the bottom of the mountain. He lifted his head off the steering wheel, coughing and wincing as he struggled to catch his breath. His left side felt like it was on fire and he thought he might throw up from the pain, but the need to check on Jessica trumped any assessment of his own condition. Slowly, he moved his head to look at the passenger side, calling out her name through the settling dirt and debris that had been kicked up on their tumble down the mountain. He got no response and reached out as far as he could to feel her and check on her, but his hand just hit empty air and the back of the seat.

As the dust settled, he started screaming out her name, noticing she wasn’t anywhere in the car with him. Trying to move and pull himself out of his seat, Alex found himself coughing again, vision dancing with white and black spots and breath catching in his chest. Not long after he was passing out from the pain. This cycle continued twice more until he woke up to the sound of people yelling his name and he just rested where he was, not sure of this was a fever dream from hypothermia or real life, but as soon as a bright light hit his face, he was squinting and nodding as an all too familiar voice started shouting and asking him if he was okay. Was he? Not really. Was it bad enough to worry Cam over? Not really.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I can hear you.” He insisted, head turned away from the bright light. “I couldn’t find Jessica, did you find her? Is she okay?” Cam moved his flashlight out of his face and looked up the hill, hollering at apparently Ryan - though it seemed Nicole was the one responding. He realized he was moreso watching Cam, hearing the shouting, but not processing the words until Cam was back in his face, nodding and telling him that Jessica was fine, Ryan was helping her sit up and warm up as they spoke. “You’ve got to stay talking to me, alright? Help will be here in ten.” Cam lied and reached out to pat at Alex’s arm. “How are you feeling? Can you move?” “I’m okay, but I’m pinned in.” Cam moved around the car to try and open Alex’s door. “Let’s get you out of here, alright? Can you push?” The two tried forcing the crushed door open, but when that didn’t work Cam crawled over through one of the busted windows to try and possibly move Alex’s seat back, but that wouldn’t budge either.

“Change of plans, we’re going to just have to wait for help. Can you hang in there?” Cam huffed and Alex nodded, giving a chuckle which turned into a cough. “Yeah, I’ll do what I can.” The boys started talking about anything and anything, Alex could tell that Cam was panicked because his mind seemed to be running a mile a minute, but he didn’t mind. The moments he didn’t have to contribute, he could focus on breathing without the obnoxious and sharp pain when he took a deep breath or the constant burning, throbbing sensation in his upper abdomen. Whenever he took too long to breathe through whatever his body was going through, he’d feel Cam once again patting him on the shoulder and then his awareness would return, he’d open his eyes, unaware that they were ever closing to begin with and tune back in to the voice hollering at him to stay awake.

Alex blinked at Cam before finally speaking back up. “Sorry, I’m good, I’m good. I’m talking, I’m good.” He could more so feel the relief coming from Cam rather than hear it. “Well good, because as soon as you’re out of this fucking car you’ve got to help me with this baby room, man. So stay with me, alright?” Alex smirked, remembering where the conversation was before he started drifting off. “Oh yeah, how’d you two come up with a space theme? I thought you said you were going with the beach. Remember the sea turtle stuffed animal?” Conversation was going to be good for both of them, Alex realized, so he really tried to focus, truly he did. “Well I thought that’s what we were going with, Tristan said she liked a beach theme if it was a girl and a space theme if it was a boy. Her and Austin are going to paint planets and stars and stuff on the walls.” “Wait, so it’s a boy?” Alex asked with a surprised grin. “Yeah, just found out today, we were going to tell everyone at the cabin.” Cam’s voice came in a lot calmer this time as he spoke. “Congrats man, you’re going to be a cool ass dad. I’m sure Tristan is thrilled it’s a boy.” “She is, but don’t tell Jessica yet, she wanted everyone to be surprised.” Despite his efforts to focus, rolling his head back to bump the headrest as they talked was a bad decision and immediately Alex’s vision was blurring, black and white spots dancing in and out as he squinted and huffed out a tired sigh.

He’d been fine passing out the first couple of times, at this rate Alex knew he would be fine to rest some more now, but Cam was not going to allow it. “Five minutes.” He tried to barter, eyes closed, moreso from the pain than from exhaustion, but it was hard to tell the difference when it all blended together. “No, no, no, no. This isn’t Sleepaway camp, no five minutes. You hit your head and five minutes could be really bad.” Cam was swatting at him again, voice louder to gain Alex’s attention, but all he earned back was a harrumph. “Come on, Alex. Stay with me, I need you to stay awake and get out of here in one piece. You’ve still got to help me put that stupid star light wall up once we’re back home. And-and when Malcom or Micah or whatever his name is gets here I’m going to need your help because you’re a lot better with babies and kids than I am. So stay with me okay?”

Alex focused all his will on trying to stay awake, he didn’t want to make Cam any more panicked than he already was, but his eyelids felt weighed down. “I’m with you.” “You sure about that?” “Yeah - yeah. Can you still see Jessica?” “Uh.. yeah, yeah she’s probably got a busted leg, y’know?” “Can you tell her I love her and that I’m sorry?” There was the distant sound of sirens and then the sound of several voices yelling, definitely Cam and probably Nicole if not both Nicole and Ryan, trying to catch emergency service’s attention.

Beth’s boyfriend Brad was the one to cut the door off his jeep and helped un-wedge him from his current position. He kept hearing from everyone that Jessica was going to be okay, but he knew by their expressions things were very much not okay. Before they removed him from the car, he gripped Brad’s upper arm and looked at him seriously. “Just be honest with me..” The sigh and shake of the head he got was enough to make his stomach sink, but he listened as Brad told him she was already on the way to the hospital, that she’d been thrown and hit a tree and was battling the hypothermia even worse than him. Nodding, Alex gave him a small thanks, brain trying to process that they were both going to be okay. Alex knew he wasn’t going to die, he still knew it and he was just trying to accept that, despite the looks on everyone’s faces and the panic from what sounded like Ryan in the background, Jess was going to be just fine too. He kept assuring himself in his own mind before he hissed in pain as they moved him from the car directly on a backboard.

He didn’t notice it right away, the pain of moving in general was making him slur his words slightly as his blood pressure spiked while he laid in a supine position. He only knew because of the annoyingly rapid beeping of the heart monitor he didn’t even realize had been attached to him. His vision was dancing as the pounding in his head started in again with a fury this time. “I need to sit up-“ He started to insist as everything started spinning, but the EMTs just told him that wasn’t safe for his spine to be in an elevated position and he could hear Cam start to argue that if he was in more pain laying down they needed to listen to him. It was an argument neither of them were going to win, so Alex just held out his hand to his brother and told him it would be fine. That he was okay and everyone would be okay.

He kept assuring his best friend as they loaded up in the ambulance and Cam rode with, but in a moment’s notice the pain in his head built up until he’d rather it explose and then he felt nothing. Alex didn’t feel the pain in his body, didn’t hear the loud consistent ring of the heart monitor signaling a drop in pulse that wasn’t returning. He didn’t hear Cam, frantic in the seat next to him or the instructions from the EMTs as they cut open his shirt and prepared him for the first of the three shocks it took to restart his heart. He didn't even hear the monitors beeping once his heart started again, just laid in a peaceful blackness.

Once Alex was being wheeled in through emergency, they took Cam into the same private waiting room that Ryan and Nicole were already in, talking to their parents. They all turned their attention to him, but a moment later, Derek was getting a page for an emergency patient assessment and he patted Cam’s shoulder on the way out, rushing to treat his now son in law, unbeknownst to him. It took only a few moments for Derek to check over Alex to know he needed to call in a CT and the surgical team. He was getting a bedside ultrasound and Derek argued with Christina over what would kill him faster, a ruptured spleen or any of the million side effects Alex might deal with with a brain injury.

It took about fifteen minutes for the CT to be finished and for the results to be read with a clear plan of action laid out. Given how long the pressure had been building up in Alex’s brain, Derek called for him to be moved into the OR so they could cut open his skull. After the pressure had been released via several burrs, Derek prepared a drainage tube for insertion to keep things equalized while his brain was still dealing with the trauma. They left his skull more exposed while the second surgical team came in to operate on his spleen, using the additional time to relieve as much pressure as they could. Originally the second team had hoped to recover a part of his spleen to keep functioning, but with the prolonged time of Alex being pinned to the steering wheel and the couple hours it took to get his brain stable, it just wasn’t possible to save and waiting any longer put all his organs at risk of sepsis which he wouldn’t be able to battle without a spleen.

While that portion of the surgery was being taken care of, Derek scrubbed out and met back up with the now crowded waiting room, giving a little update and getting one on Jessica as well. The whole family was an anxious mess, hoping and praying that they could save Jessica and their family seemed to move from the waiting room to the surgical watch rooms, watching over Alex and Jessica. After they had finished removing Alex’s spleen, Derek returned to check on him, finishing up the final bit of his surgery before releasing him to be taken into an ICU room.

Everyone was, for the most part, back in the waiting room when Derek finally walked out in his scrubs, hand rubbing over his mouth. “Jessica has a pulse and Alex is stabilizing. Let’s all just take a deep breath knowing that. We are keeping an eye on the pressure in his skull and they have him in an induced coma to try and prevent total organ failure from any possible sepsis.” He looked over at Cam and Tristan and gave a little sigh. “You two can probably go sit with him in about ten minutes, let them get him settled in the ICU first.” With that, Derek hugged his wife before walking out to go take a couple minutes to collect himself before he got called in for another possible procedure.

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cuthian · 4 years

Text

Starting Over Chapter Six

Hi guys!

Sorry for the delay on this one :) This is another Asgard chapter, so check the end notes again if you prefer not to read about Becca and Thor.

Love, Annaelle

Chapter Six

PEPPER POTTS IS PREGNANT AND BREAKS TWITTER WITH ADORABLE PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK — Pepper Potts, C.E.O. of Stark Industries and longtime girlfriend of Tony Stark and Col. James Rhodes, is having a baby, and like everything else she has done since the news of her polyamorous relationship with Rhodes and Stark, she is doing so on her own terms.

[...]Potts, 42, is pregnant with her first child, and used the unconventional, but adorable video she dropped on her official Twitter account yesterday morning to confirm the rumors of a pregnancy that have been floating around for the past few days.

[WATCH HERE: PEPPER POTTS SURPRISES TONY STARK, JAMES RHODES AND STEVE ROGERS WITH ADORABLE PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT.]

She followed her video announcement with a tweet stating, “I have seen many children born into homes with two parents, who end up arguing, fighting, and divorcing. The person this affects the most is the child. I don’t think our situation, our relationship, will be detrimental to our child because it will ensure that our child will be loved. [...] It takes a village, and we have a big, loving, crazy village. I cannot wait to begin this next part of our lives together.”

The announcement was retweeted by Col. Rhodes and Tony Stark within seconds—we cover the adorable and surprisingly eloquent reaction of the two fathers-to-be here in this podcast—as well as by Captain Rogers almost immediately after that, all with happy and congratulatory messages. Captain Rogers’ tweet hilariously promises he will be the best big brother to the Rhodes-Stark-Potts baby in the history of big brothers.

Potts replied to Rogers’ tweet: “Steve will definitely be the best big brother to our baby. He’s got plenty of practice as #BigBrotherOfAmerica.”

[...]Fans flooded the video with congratulatory messages, and the hashtag #IronBaby has been trending for forty-eight hours so far, and promises to hold for at least another few days.

—Clara Newitski, “Pepper Potts confirms pregnancy”, E!News Online, 30 November, 2015

————————

TRAINING FIELDS, IDAVOLL, ASGARD

NOVEMBER 30TH, 2015 – 8:57AM (EARTH UCT+1)

BECCA

She hit the ground with a dull thud, the fall knocking the wind clean from her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath for a long couple of minutes. She laughed breathlessly when Sif appeared in her field of vision, grinning fiercely as she offered Becca a hand to help her up. “You did well,” Sif told her approvingly. “Not bad for a human. You held out much longer than I expected.”

“I got good trainers,” Becca chuckled, allowing the other woman to help her up.

She and Natasha had been training together for years at this point, and Thor had made a point of it to ensure that all of the Avengers learned how to fight opponents physically stronger—had made it a point to make sure they knew how to win and survive a fight against an opponent physically much stronger than they were.

“You must’ve,” Sif remarked, patting Becca’s shoulder. “I see our prince’s influence in the way you dodge, sometimes.”

Becca smiled lightly. “He’s been diligent about teaching us to win against more powerful opponents.”

“I cannot have my favorite mortal friends perish before their time,” Thor boomed as he came up behind them, slinging an arm around her. “You least of all.” She leaned into him when he pressed a kiss to her temple, relaxing against him.

She’d not been alone with him since before the disastrous feast, had barely even been in the same room as him, and she’d missed it—she’d missed him.

Sif only grinned in response before she curtsied—exceptionally sarcastically, somehow—and turned to beat up some hapless Aesir warriors. Becca smirked before she turned in Thor’s arms, slipping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. She’d been up since dawn, had joined Sif in training not long after, and they’d been at it for hours.

She was well-trained, and in good condition, but she was only human.

She was tired, and Thor was comfortable and safe.

“Hello Krúttið mitt,” he rumbled, smoothing his hand down her back. “You’ve been busy.”

“Well, I had to keep myself busy with all kinds of official, diplomatic things,” she told him, seriously leaning back to raise an eyebrow at him. “My boyfriend seems to have other, more important matters on his mind than entertaining little old me.”

Thor frowned faux-seriously, shaking his head sadly. “Ah, your man must be a fool, to leave a woman beautiful and ferocious as you all by herself.” He grinned rakishly. “Anyone could pass by and just… snap you up.”

He punctuated the last word with a peck to her lips, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” she told him, but she didn’t resist when he cupped her face in his hands and leaned in to kiss her again.

“Perhaps, but you… You,” Thor muttered against her lips, her cheeks cupped in his large palms, “you are a dangerous woman.” He slipped one hand down, trailing down from the back of her neck to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, ignoring the wolf-whistles that his friends sent their way. “And an irresistible one.”

Becca grinned against his lips and tugged on his hair a little. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I could never,” Thor chuckled.

“Odinson!” Fandral roared from somewhere on the training fields, effectively shattering their little peaceful bubble. “Stop canoodling with your mortal and come help me! I cannot lose to Sif again.”

Becca laughed when Sif cackled, and Thor shook his head in faux-dismay.

“Go,” she told him. “I think I’ll watch you, for a change. Go beat some unsuspecting morons for me.”

Thor chuckled and nodded. “Their blood shall be spilled in your honor then, Krúttið mitt,” he hummed. “And then I shall sweep you off your feet, and carry you to my chambers as my prize. My very own spoils of war. If you let me.” He hugged her close as she spoke, and she made note of the slightly possessive note to his words—it was so very rare that he admitted to wanting something different, or something potentially… more, she supposed, than what they already shared, that she cherished each time that he did.

“And after, I shall return you to your chambers,” Thor muttered, pressing a light kiss to her lips. “Once I have properly and thoroughly ravished you. I must confess I am most curious about your abode… I fear I’ll have to inspect whether it’s worthy of housing you, elskan min.”

“Oh?” Becca raised an eyebrow. “And should you find it lacking?”

“Well,” Thor rumbled, drawing her close one more time to press a smacking kiss to her lips. “I suppose I’ll have no choice but to house you in my chambers. Nothing less than the absolute best will do.”

She giggled against his lips, allowing herself one more moment before she pushed him back, keeping him at arm’s length when he pouted. “Go beat up your friends, hotshot,” she told him with a warm smile. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?”

“As you wish,” Thor hummed, lifting the hand she’d pressed to his chest up to his lips to press a soft kiss to her palm, before he turned and joined his friends.

She remained where she was for a few moments, grinning at Thor’s back when he collided with his friends. She watched as he threw a casual arm around Fandral’s shoulder, as she’d seen him do dozens of times with Steve, watched the way they all laughed and teased each other, and felt something loosen in her chest.

Even on his best days on Earth, there was a kind of heaviness to him that did not dissipate.

It had now.

Seeing him here on Asgard was… it was almost unreal. He was lighter here, flourishing in a way she’d never seen him flourish before—in a way he probably couldn’t flourish on Earth—and she loved seeing him happy and carefree like this.

She tried not to think about what that meant for their future, though.

She made her way to the plump, surprisingly comfortable benches to the side of the training fields, sitting down with a sigh of relief. Her body ached a little—in the good way, the way it ached when she’d done an intense workout and stuck with it until the end—and it felt good to let her muscles relax for a short time. She’d get up to do some more stretches soon, she promised herself, but she’d take a five-minute breather first.

She watched, as she’d told Thor she would, allowing herself to study the way he fought, now that he didn’t have to hold back. He was ferocious, fighting with a kind of elegant brutality that was both breathtaking and frightening—she loved him, more than anyone else she’d ever been with, but she forgot… she forgot how different they were sometimes.

It wasn’t a bad thing, certainly, but… it was a little scary.

“Milady?”

Abruptly startled from her thoughts, Becca looked up to find two of the—frankly absurd amount of—maids Odin had assigned to her, Unnr and Þrúðr, standing before her, both looking profoundly uncomfortable.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, squinting up at the two women.

Unnr shook her head shakily. “No, milady. We just—” she and Þrúðr exchanged a fleeting glance, “—we were wondering if you are ready to return to your chambers?”

Becca blinked. “Oh,” she said, looking between the two maids. “I… I was actually planning on staying for a while? Until Thor’s done, at least.” She didn’t miss the way the two exchanged another glance, and huffed impatiently. She’d liked Asgard fine, so far, and no one had been openly hostile—barring the woman she’d had to shoot for threatening Thor—but things were different, here.

The change from Earth to Asgard had thrown off her sense of time too.

It almost felt like jet lag, but worse too.

It wasn’t bad enough to incapacitate her, or make her want to stay in bed for a few days until her body had fully adjusted to the new time zone, but it was, at moments, so damned uncomfortable.

The minor headache she’d managed to ignore all day came roaring back, and she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“Ladies,” she sighed. “Would one of you please tell me what’s wrong?”

Both girls blinked at her, before Þrúðr spoke. “The training grounds are typically… they’re typically off limits for maidens, milady. I believe exceptions were made because the Prince demanded it be so, but usually…” She shook her head. “It’s not proper for unwed women to be here.”

Becca swallowed thickly and blinked again, trying to digest… all of that.

“Sif’s here,” she pointed out dumbly, gesturing towards where her boyfriend was doing his best to electrocute his friends while cackling gleefully.

She shook her head.

She loved that weirdo.

“Yes,” Unnr conceded. “But Lady Sif is… well… concessions were made. She is of highborn Aesir nobility. Before Prince Thor was betrothed to Prince Loki, there were many talks of an alliance forged by marriage with her and the Prince. I believe the King allowed certain… liberties when he abruptly broke off such negotiations with her family.”

“That’s bullshit,” Becca blurted loudly, wincing a little when both maids startled.

Before either of them could speak, though, someone interrupted from behind them. “Our traditions are bullshit to you now, Lady Rebecca? I’m sure my son will appreciate hearing you express such blatant disrespect towards our customs.”

She stiffened, turning slowly to face her boyfriend’s father—his King—for the first time.

She had been introduced to him at the feast, of course, but that had been with Thor holding her hand, and about two hundred people surrounding them. She was vaguely aware that her two maids dropped into a deep curtsy the moment they realized who had spoken, and that they all likely expected her to do the same, but… she remained sitting, only moving to incline her head towards the man lightly.

She was not, after all, one of his subjects.

She was a guest of his son, and he allowed her in his home, so she owed him at least a modicum of respect, but she did not owe him allegiance or deference.

“Your majesty,” she offered. “I meant not to offend. I’m sure you understand that not allowing certain… parts of your citizenry to learn how to defend themselves seems… peculiar to someone looking in from the outside.”

Odin smiled tightly. “I suppose from your point of view, it certainly must seem so. As long as you remember that you are, of course, on the outside, glancing in.”

Becca blinked at that, taken aback by the barely veiled insult.

“Ladies,” Odin addressed Unnr and Þrúðr, “I’m sure you have duties to attend to.”

The two scampered off before the King had even finished speaking, and Becca remained were she was, stiff and decidedly uncomfortable, as her boyfriend’s father took a seat on the stone bench beside her.

She was tempted to get up and rejoin Thor and his friends, to let this arrogant old man look the fool, but… She sighed and shook her head.

He was Thor’s father, after all.

Insufferable bastard or not, she’d promised herself and Thor she wouldn’t let him get the best of her.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she offered again when he remained silent.

She wasn’t sure why the man was here, why he insisted on sitting with her when he clearly did not approve of her presence at all. She expected he would try to frighten her away from Thor, or that he would insist on tormenting her about all of Thor’s past lovers—Loki most of all.

“Worry not,” Odin finally said. “Human lives are but fleeting, I should not expect such underdeveloped minds to understand the delicate intricacies of our society.”

“Excuse me?” Becca spit, rearing back as though he’d slapped her. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I am Odin. King of Asgard.” He turned to look at her slowly, expression frustratingly inscrutable. “Protector of the Nine Realms.”

“Yeah,” Becca snorted. “Right. Nine Realms. Including Earth. We noticed the protection. Thanks, by the way, for keeping our planet from slowly heating up and destroying itself. Or for stepping in during any of the wars, famines, epidemics, or disasters over the past thousand years.” She shook her head again. “Thor tells me you haven’t even looked at Midgard in centuries. Don’t you dare call yourself our protector when we’ve clearly been doing fine on our own.”

Odin merely chuckled, and shook his head lightly. “You humans… threatened by suffering in threefold; by your own body, doomed to decay; and the world you so cherish, that rages against you with overwhelming and merciless destruction… and then from your relations with one another. I’ve lived thousands of years, child, but I’ve never met another race quite so talented at self-destruction.” He looked down at her and added, “Your kind’s never taken well to our interference. While I have several agents established on Midgard, keeping me apprised of… relevant information, we generally let you be.”

Becca snorted. “For a man who so readily proclaims our brains underdeveloped, you sure seem to like some of our people’s works.” When he raised an eyebrow, she shook her head, “I know Freud when I hear it, your Majesty, however much you try to dress it up with fancier words.”

Odin smirked. “Ah, you are clever, at least. I suppose my son has some taste after all.”

He shook his head again, as though he’d grown weary of the conversation, and said, “Surely you understand, though, that my son will not be able to keep you. Certain classes of beings cannot mix—certainly not for any significant length of time.”

“With all due respect,” she replied coldly. “I hardly think we’re a different class of being. Having access to seiðr readily doesn’t make you more evolved—even certain humans can harness its power, even if they are far rarer than they are to your people. Honestly though, I can’t say that I care overly much for what you think. I care what Thor thinks, and he’s made the way he feels about me very clear.”

Odin eyed her critically. “My son has had many lovers before. What makes you think you’re different than those he dallied with to distract himself from Loki’s disinterest?”

“I trust him when he tells me I am,” Becca told him coolly, crossing her arms over her chest, and though she was fuming, she carefully kept her expression blank, because she refused to let him see that he was getting to her—that his words rattled her even the littlest bit.

Odin laughed humorlessly. “I’m sure he told the others such things as well. Like he did Loki. Undying devotion did not last quite so long, did it?”

She knew what he was trying to do, and she was sure if he had done so earlier on in their relationship, she might actually have believed him. She might have let this old, sad, heartbroken man get under her skin and ruin what she and Thor had managed to build, but she refused to let him now.

They’d worked too hard to get where they were today.

“You know, I’m a little sad for you,” she said, slowly. “I’m sad you’re so twisted up inside that it makes you want to make Thor just as miserable as you are.” She looked him right in the eye and shook her head. “I love your son. I really, really love him, and I don’t care that I’m mortal and he’s not. I don’t care that you don’t like me. I care that I make him happy. I know I’m not Loki, and I don’t need him to love me like he loved Loki.”

She shrugged and offered a soft smile. “I just need him to love me like he loves me.”

Odin chuckled derisively. “Such sentimentality. I should expect no less from a human.”

“Father,” Thor cut in, and Becca barely resisted the urge to jump at his sudden appearance. Thor settled himself on the bench beside her, pressing closer than was, perhaps, strictly appropriate in front of his father, but she didn’t protest, allowing the press of his torso against her side to soothe her.

“My son,” Odin said calmly. “I sought only to properly meet your frù.”

“Do not talk of her as such,” Thor hissed viciously, drawing Becca against him firmly, surprising her with the venom in his tone. “She is more than that.”

“Is she?” Odin chuckled. “Is that what your inn mátki munr signified? Will you insist on making her your kvàn, my son? Call her your brúðr? Your kona?”

“If I do,” Thor spat, “It will be because she chooses to be.”

“And she’s right here,” Becca said, elbowing Thor in the gut when he squeezed her too tightly.

Thor looked at her, eyes wide and somewhat crazed, and Becca made the executive decision that remaining anywhere near Thor’s father wasn’t going to end well for either of them. “Thank you for coming all this way to meet me, your Majesty,” she offered, making sure to paste the most insincere smile she could manage on her face, “I think we both rather learned a lot today.”

She looked to Thor and squeezed her fingers around his. “We’re leaving. You promised me you’d show me more of Asgard.”

“So I did,” Thor nodded, keeping his blue eyes intent on hers. “There is much to see still.”

He stood smoothly, offering Becca a hand as soon as he was standing, and pulled her to her feet as well. “We will take our leave, Father,” he said. “It was a pleasure, as always.”

With that, Thor began moving, pulling her along with him.

She didn’t look back.

————————

[PEPPER POTTS PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT VIDEO!]

There is a short moment before the image settles that shows a cozy, comfortable living room, before the image stills and zooms in on two men sitting at the kitchen island, heads bent together over a laptop.

“I don’t see the big deal, Capsicle. It’s not like this is news, even to you,” Tony Stark, looking almost like had only just rolled out of bed, shrugs, leaning back in his chair and sipping from the large mug in the shape of the Hulk’s fist.

“This isn’t a joking matter, Tony,” Steve Rogers, dressed in a tight white t-shirt and light sweatpants insists, gesturing towards the screen with a frown. “They moved to L.A. of all places. It’s a fucking outrage.”

“But it’s just baseball,” Stark mumbles, looking entirely nonplussed, before he offers, “Would it help if I bought them?”

Rogers blinks in astonishment before he groans and puts his head in his hands. “God, don’t tempt me, Tony. I don’t even need you to buy them for me—I could do it.”

Stark laughs and pats his hand on Rogers’ head while he shakes his head, using his free hand to draw the laptop closer to himself. “Shhh,” he tells Rogers, “let me live out my sugar daddy fantasies through you, Steven.”

Rogers looks appropriately scandalized while Stark cackles and types madly on the laptop.

Rhodes walks in, stops short, takes in the scene and shakes his head. “Whatever it is, Tony, no.”

Stark cackles louder. “Tony, yes!” Both Rogers and Rhodes sigh and share a commiserating eye roll before embarking on a journey to the refrigerator together.

The camera shakes a little when the person behind it moves, moving closer to the men in the kitchen. “Tony,” Pepper Potts says from behind the camera. “What have you done now?”

Stark looks up and smirks gleefully. “I’ve just bought our baby a baseball team.”

Rogers and Rhodes emerge from the depths of the fridge with identical, bewildered expressions, and Potts is quiet for a moment before she chokes, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Steve was our baby now?”

Rogers, who has once again rounded the kitchen island to peer at the laptop, exclaims gleefully, “Neither did I, but you’re not getting rid of me now. You bought me the Dodgers?”

The camera shakes when Potts laughs. When it settles again, the three men are now crowded around the laptop, talking over one another excitedly.

“Well,” Potts interrupts, moving closer to the men. “I suppose we can keep you. As long as you learn to share with your future baby sibling.”

The camera swings up to catch a clear look of the three men’s astonished expressions before the image cuts out.

—Clara Newitski, “Pepper Potts confirms pregnancy” CONTINUED, E!News Online, 30 November, 2015

————————

FENSALIR, VALASKIALF, ASGARD

NOVEMBER 30TH, 2015 – 12:09 PM (EARTH UCT+1)

THOR

He was still fuming at the sheer nerve of his father, even hours later.

He had taken Rebecca to see the city and had shown her his favorite little corners. He had taken her to the tavern he had taken Steven to as well, had taken her to visit Aase and the market, and had watched her become struck with awe when he had taken her to the libraries that held the collected works of the Nine.

It had soothed his ire some, to see Asgard anew through her eyes.

Becca’s wonder at seeing his home was contagious, and Thor had relaxed some. He had known, of course, that his father would attempt to sow discord in his relationship, that he would seek out Rebecca and try to pinpoint her insecurities, that he would use those insecurities against her to destroy them, but he had not expected his father to be quite so open about his disapproval.

He’d certainly not expected him to corner Rebecca on the training fields.

“Hey.”

Rebecca’s voice and her insistent tug on his hand drew him from his thoughts.

“Stop it,” she told him sternly when he looked at her. “Don’t let him win. I didn’t believe a word he said about us, Thor.” She turned towards him fully, and Thor relaxed a little when she tiptoed to slip her arms around him. “I love you. I trust you. You know that. I didn’t let him get under my skin.” She smiled and pecked his lips. “Don’t let him get under yours.”

“You’re right,” Thor sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. “You’re right. I’ll not let him spoil our time together any longer.”

“Good,” Becca grinned, leaning in to press another kiss to his lips. “Now show me these famed gardens of yours. Steve’s told me they’re absolutely gorgeous.” She stepped back a little and held out her hand to him, raising an expectant eyebrow.

Thor smiled and took her hand in his, leading Rebecca back towards the palace. He looked forward to showing her the Gardens; they’d proven a refuge for him and Loki many times when they’d been children, and he knew it’d brought Steven comfort too, when he had been here.

He hoped that Rebecca, too, would find some solace there.

He recognized he had not been able to be the host he wanted to be due to the absurd itinerary his father had foisted upon them when they arrived. Rebecca had spent far more time with his friends and the handmaidens—whom she had thankfully taken a liking to, even the maids she had initially bemoaned—than she had with him, due to his father’s insistence on adhering to tradition.

Tradition that he had never once been forced to adhere to before.

He’d originally planned for their first few days here to be far less strenuous and far more intimate.

Heimdall had warned him, when he began planning this trip, that journeying through the Bifrost would likely be exceptionally taxing for a human; even Steven, with an enhanced physiology that brought him closer to Aesir than to human, had felt the effects of it for a few hours.

He had not kept as close an eye on Becca as he had planned to, and he hoped she wasn’t feeling any ill effects of the travel any longer.

“Are you doing alright?” he asked concernedly, pulling her to a slow stop by lightly tugging on her hand. “I’ve not thought to ask how the Bifrost affected you, I apologize.” He imagined an inter-dimensional jet-lag on top of his father being… well, himself must’ve been exhausting.

“I’m fine,” Becca told him with a wry quirk of her lips. “Although, Asgardian cuisine doesn’t seem to agree with me yet.” She smiled a little. “I guess I just have to get used to it, but I’m not very hungry. I’m so bloated it’s not even funny anymore, but I’m not feeling sick or anything bad. Little tired, maybe, but... ” She squeezed her fingers around his. “Jet-lag hasn’t been so bad yet.”

“If you’re sure,” Thor said doubtfully, running his fingers across her cheek.

“Of course I am,” she shook her head. “Come on, show me the Gardens.”

He nodded silently and resumed their trek back to the palace; they would not have to enter the palace, thankfully, and risk running into his father or any of the servants. Loki had once shown him a secret path into their mother’s gardens, where they could slip past the guards unnoticed and hide in the lush, green garden for hours without being found.

He fully intended on doing so with Rebecca as well.

Spending their afternoon basking in sunlight, snacking on the morsels Thor had had asked the maids to prepare, and relaxing together, as they hadn’t been allowed since their arrival on Asgard, sounded like the best idea he’d had in months.

“So, your father had these gardens created for your mother?” Becca asked, slowing down a little so they walked side by side again, swinging their arms between them.

“Yes,” Thor nodded. “She missed the woods of her homeland and her father’s gardens, and my father sought to ensure her happiness by recreating them as precisely as he could.” He wondered where the man his mother had fallen in love with, once, had gone.

He wondered if love lost turned all hearts bitter, or if his father was an exception. Then again, his father had been a bitter man for longer than his mother had been gone.

He wondered, briefly, if he would lose himself to bitterness and anger too, should he lose Rebecca as well.

Losing Loki and his mother had very well had the potential to turn his heart to stone, and he believed it may have, had he not had his mortal friends to lean on in his time of need. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif were worthy friends indeed, but they had not understood the depth of his despair following Loki’s death. It might have been more forgivable if they had not so clearly mourned the loss of his mother while barely paying lip service to Loki’s memory, and only then on Thor’s behalf.

Having Becca and Steven and the other Avengers to turn to had saved him, in a way.

“That’s sweet, I guess,” Becca nodded, drawing him from his thoughts.

He looked to her and smiled lightly, squeezing his fingers around hers. “I suppose it was, at the time,” he shrugged. They’d reached the palace walls by now, and Thor slowed their pace down to a casual stroll, gently nudging Becca’s attention towards the walls that surrounded the palace.

“Do you see the etchings that cover the walls?” he asked, slowing to a stop so Becca could reach out to touch her fingertips to the faint lines.

“What are they?” she asked, looking back at him quizzically.

“Loki insisted they are the remnants of the history of our people that our forefathers would rather have seen forgotten. If you look closely, you can almost see the figures that tell our tales.”

Becca was silent, and Thor allowed himself to remember the awe that had filled him the first time he had seen the lines on the walls form a recognizable pattern. “It’s beautiful,” Becca said quietly, pulling her hand away from the wall and turning back to him.

“It’s also our way into the gardens,” Thor confided in her, pressing close to her and taking her hand in his. He guided her hand up, palm up, to the wall, letting it hover above the stones for a long moment.

“Say the words with me,” he whispered. “Opnað grindrinn.”

“Opnað grindrinn,” Becca repeated dutifully, and Thor relished in how easily her lips formed around the still largely unfamiliar words—she had insisted on beginning to learn his native tongue as soon as their relationship became more serious—and smiled when she gasped delightedly when the solid wall that stood before them shimmered and then disappeared, revealing a veritable oasis of greenery and flowers.

“Oh wow,” Becca breathed, and Thor couldn’t help but smile. It was an awe-inspiring sight, even for him. “Is it a gate?” she asked as she walked further into the gardens, “or is it an illusion?”

Thor hummed and considered his words before he spoke, watching as Becca moved deeper into the gardens, fingers idly trailing past flowers and deep green leaves. “It is somewhat of both,” he finally said, allowing his gaze to stray to the bright red flower that bloomed only through his mother’s lingering seiðr. “Loki wove the spell centuries ago, weaving it so only those we chose to share it with would be able to enter, and only accompanied by one of us. It was an ideal hideout.”

He expected Becca to laugh at that, to tease him about hiding out in the secluded gardens with Loki so they could make out like the careless, lovestruck boys they had been at the time, but she remained quiet.

He looked up to find her standing only a few feet away, rather a lot paler than she had been minutes ago.

“Becca?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

“I–” She shook her head and swayed where she stood. Thor moved before he had even consciously thought of doing so, crossing the distance between them in a few strides, grasping her forearms tightly. “I’m so hot.”

Now that he stood so much closer, he could see sweat beading on her forehead, and see just how alarmingly pale she’d suddenly become. “Becca, what’s going on?” he demanded urgently, concern flooding his entire being when she didn’t respond to his query immediately, eyes going a little unfocused before she muttered,

“I need to sit, I’m—l’m going to be sick.”

“Of course,” Thor floundered, trying to figure out how to help her sit without having her keel over, when her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp in his grasp.

“Becca!” he shouted in shock, barely moving fast enough to catch her as she crumpled, knees buckling as he sank down to the ground, her limp form cradled in his arms. She didn’t respond, nor did she wake when he patted her cheek, despite him using more strength than he usually did with her.

No reaction, but at the very least she was still breathing, and her pulse sounded strong and steady to his enhanced ears.

He looked up desperately, shaking himself forcefully. “Alright,” he nodded to himself, lifting her up in his arms and making for the palace.

Eir would know what to do.

————————

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone:

(1) (2)

Decisions: (1)

Dancing with a Limp:

(1) (2)

Chances:

(1)

Starting Over:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

#IHWSBY sequel #starting over #stucky #Stucky fanfic #Steve Rogers #thor #Rebecca barnes #Avengers family #my writing #Lisa writes

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goodbyecringe · 4 years

Text

(Un)Natural Selection Chapter 5

Éponine

During the week after the Selection had been announced I probably slept for an hour or two every night. I couldn’t help but lay awake while Azelma curled her small body around me. The first thing I did after the officials left for the day was run to the Brouder’s house. We didn’t have a phone in the apartment and I needed to tell them about my plans with Azelma. When the front door opened I was immediately embraced by Mrs. Brouder.

“We are so honored that you came to visit us Éponine,” she said, inviting me inside.

“I’m so thankful for you Mrs. Brouder,” I said, sitting at the counter while she put on a tea kettle.

“Please ma chère, call me Justine. You know that I’ve wanted you to stay with us since we first hired you. You always do more than we expect of you. And you’ve been such a help with Mercer.”

“Thank you. It has been such a pleasure to work for you. You’ve always given me food which goes towards keeping ‘Zelma fed. I am indebted to you,” I said, holding out my hands to her.

“Please take on Azelma as your new housekeeper!” I blurted it out before I could control my mouth.

“Of course, chére! Victor and I see how skinny you two girls are. If your parents would let us, we would love to take care of you,” she said, squeezing my hands.

“I know, and it means the world to us. Thank you for taking care of her while I’m gone. I have one more request, but it might be more difficult than employing my sister. I want to make sure that my sister is able to eat and maybe even one day have enough saved so she can leave our parents. Would you be willing to receive a small portion of my pay and set it aside for Azelma?” My heart was beating at one hundred miles a minute. I hadn’t even been this nervous when the announcement was made on Friday night. Had it really only been 5 days ago?

“Of course. We would be honored to help Azelma in any way possible,” Mrs. Brouder broke away to prepare the tea, creating a momentary silence between the two of us.

“Have you observed your competition at all?” she asked, handing me a cup. My eyes widened. How could I have not thought of memorizing every detail I could about the other thirty-four girls.

“I-I haven’t even considered it yet,” I stammered.

But Mrs. Brouder had already thought through to the answer of her question. We moved to the living room and re-watch the Report, which is playing on repeat, no doubt so that all of Illeá could do just as we were doing, sizing up the competition. Even Mr. Brouder came in holding baby Mercer, making comments about “she won’t make it past the first day” and “she seems to appear too innocent” The whole afternoon just seemed right. Sitting in front of the television holding Mercer while he pulled at my hair. Watching Mr. and Mrs. Brouder hold each other's hands and speak in French about how much they missed Paris. I left the Brouder’s after a few hours and our goodbye almost made me cry. Mercer threw a fit as soon as I handed him back to Mr. Brouder. Mrs. Brouder, or Justine as she insisted I call her, held me in a tight embrace.

“Montre comme tu es beau,” she whispered in my ear as tears fell down her cheeks.

Show your beautiful self. I had never thought about being beautiful, in fact, I never thought much about who I was as a person. It wasn’t a luxury afforded to sixes that went to bed hungry most nights. Did people really see something in me aside from the victim of a broken home? As I walked home I thought about what we discussed while watching the Report. Mrs. Brouder insisted that I be myself while interacting with the Prince. Since he didn’t already know my caste he wouldn’t try to pity me for being a Six. Our only hope was that he wouldn't throw me out on the first day for not being proper enough. My mother could try to make sure that I looked good on paper, but there was nothing she could do about my behaviors. By the time I left the Brouder's house the sun was setting and when I returned home there was a tall man sitting at the small table in the kitchen. He introduced himself as Mr. Kent. He was a tall, lean man in a four piece suit that looked very out of place in our dirty old apartment.

“Lady Éponine, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you,” he nodded his head deeply, and extended his hand.

“Please, the pleasure is all mine,” I said, shaking his hand.

“I apologize for coming so close to curfew. I planned to be here earlier, but another member of the selected kept me a bit longer than expected. I’m here tonight to present the first stipend to your family and go over a few things with you,” he held out an envelope to mother, who snatched it up.

“Madame, if you would please sign here saying that you have received your stipend,” she leaned over the table in an awkward position, most likely to show off her breasts.

“Now I’ve also analyzed your physical examination and it appears that you have several underlying conditions that will need to be treated while you are residing in the castle, and after I’m sure, since you are now a Three-“ My mouth dropped open. My mother dropped the pen she was holding. I could hear Azelma choke on her drink in the living room.

“Only you, of course, Lady Éponine,” Mr. Kent said, looking at my mother’s hopeful face. “We have found that in past Selections, girls that belonged to the Fourth caste and below had a rather hard time readjusting to their lives before the Selection. Understand that if you win, you and all your family members will become Ones and you will marry the Prince. Now, following your doctor’s orders, when you arrive to the castle you will be following a slightly different diet than the other girls. Since your doctor identified you as being malnourished, your serving sizes during meals will be a bit larger then your competitors. You will also be required to attend weekly appointments with the doctor at the palace. Here is a bottle of vitamins and sleeping aids that you will be responsible for taking here and during the Selection.” Mr. Kent handed me 2 bottles of pills.

“Why are you giving me sleeping pills?”

“Well, to be honest, you do look a little worse for wear. The Selection is a highly competitive and stressful environment. It’s good to make sure you’re entering fully rested.”

“Of course, Mr. Kent,” my mother said. “Thank you for caring so deeply about my dear daughter’s health. I’ll take these to ensure that she is taking her medication as prescribed,” she said, taking the bottles out of my hands.

“Excellent. Now if you don’t mind Madame Jondrette, would you and your younger daughter please go to another room so I may discuss some private things with Lady Éponine?”

“Well I’m sure whatever you could say to dear ‘Ponine you could say with her dear mama present,” My mother wrapped her arms around me. I wondered if Mr. Kent could see in tension in my body.

“Madame, this is a private conversation that I’ve had with 29 other selected girls. It is just a part of the process,” he said, raising his eyebrows. And with a fake smile, she took her check and Azelma into her room.

“Now that it is just the two of us, I must inform you, Éponine, there has never been a Six in the Selected. You are at an extreme disadvantage, even to the Fives. At least they have some sort of talent to offer. Please don’t think that I’m discriminating, one of my cousins married a Six, and I know they’re very happy. However, if the Prince wanted to marry a servant I’m sure he would just take a trip down to the kitchens. But if there were other services you could offer him…”

“Mr. Kent, are you implying that I sleep with the Prince?” This took me aback. Pre-marital sex was illegal and punishable by either a large fine or time in prison. That was why prostitutes made so much money.

“I am implying that you do what any other woman in your position would do.. Of course, you shouldn’t just thrust yourself upon him. He would probably send you home for being too sleazy.”

“Sir, I’m sure any other Six in my position would think the same thing as you, so I don’t take offense. However, I’m sure you’ve read my application so you should know a few things about me. My parents had me for this exact reason. My mother ensured that even though I was unable to attend school, I was educated. I can speak three languages fluently, which is extremely important when interacting with foreign dignitaries. I have also read and discussed multiple books on political science, so I understand the different ways that countries have been run and whether or not these ways were successful. So you’re right, Mr. Kent, I might not be able to paint masterpieces, or use my wealthy, famous family to my advantage. But I can assure you that I’ll be able to talk to Prince Julien about more important things then the weather.” I realized now that at some point I had stood up.

“I’m glad that you have that fight in you Lady Éponine. You’ll need it,” he said, standing up to shake my hand.

“I’ll escort you out, Mr. Kent,” I opened the door and followed behind him.

“I do have a question, well more of a request,” I said, looking at my feet.

“First princess lesson, never address the ground when you’re talking,” I looked up at him in front of me.

“Would you be able to send a portion of my stipend to the Brouder family so they can put it aside for my sister? I just don’t trust my parents to manage their money properly.” He immediately began to shake his head and sigh.

“I’m sorry but the rules concerning the stipend are very strict. Of course I can tell that out of all the selected you are by far the worst off. Your doctor said you should weigh about 40 pounds more than you currently do. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do anything. Strictly speaking, I’m just a messenger to all of you.” He put his hand on my shoulder as I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

As I watched him walk out to his car I knew that I had to take matters into my own hands. My first mission during my time at the palace was to use the prince so that Azelma could be safe, even if it would cost me the crown.

#enjonine #enjolras #prince enjolras #eponine #les miserables #les amis #the selection #crossover #fanfiction #cross-posted #ao3 #joly #combeferre #courfeyrac #grantaire #modern universe

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years

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Six Baudelaires AU, Part Three {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Twenty-Two → in which Kit cannot drive

“Hey, Kitkat?” Nick said, glancing out the window. “That was a stop sign.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Kit was driving very fast down the roads of the city; all of the Baudelaires had managed to squeeze into the backseat, with Solitude sitting on Nick’s lap and Sunny on Lilac’s.

“Why are we going so fast?” Lilac asked, gripping tight onto Sunny in order to function as a human seatbelt.

“Oh, we’re being followed.” Kit said.

“What?” Violet looked out the back window, indeed seeing another taxi, not too far from them.

“We’ll be fine. Probably.” Kit waved her hand. “Now, I’m sure you have thousands of questions-”

“Like why we’re being chased?” Klaus asked.

“Yeah, like that. And I wish we had more time to talk, but it’s already Tuesday. As it is, you scarcely have time to eat your important brunch before getting into your concierge disguises and beginning your observations as flaneurs.”

“Concierge?” Lilac asked.

“Flaneurs?” Klaus asked.

“Brunch?” Sunny asked.

“The fuck?” Nick asked.

Kit laughed slightly as she turned a sharp bend. “A great man once said,” she said, “That right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant. Do you know what that means?”

Nick sighed. “It means we’re still in deep shit.”

Klaus gave him a look, and then said, “He thinks that good people are more powerful than evil, even if evil people appear to be winning.”

“Good job, Klaus.” Kit nodded at him, not looking at the road. “Certainly this applies to our current situation. As you know, our organization split apart some time ago, with much bitterness on both sides.”

“Schism!” Solitude identified.

“Yes.” Kit nodded and sighed. “I’m told that VFD was once a united group of volunteers, trying to extinguish fires- both literally and figuratively. But now there are two groups of bitter enemies. Some of us continue to extinguish fires, but others have… turned to much less noble schemes.”

“Olaf.” Sunny spat.

Kit hesitated, and then said, “Count Olaf is one of our enemies, but there are many, many more who are equally wicked, if not more so. If I’m not mistaken, you met two of them in the mountains. There are plenty more. A long time ago, you could spot members of VFD by the tattoos on their ankles. But now there are so many wicked people it is impossible to keep track of all our enemies- and all the while they are keeping track of us. Speaking of which-”

She took another sudden turn, and Lilac instinctively grabbed onto Klaus, who was next to her, and pulled him in closer. He let out a cry of protest that she didn’t care to listen to.

Violet peered behind them and said, “How do you know there are enemies in that taxi?”

“A taxi will pick up anyone who signals for one.” Kit shrugged. “There are countless wicked people in the world, so it follows that sooner or later a taxi will pick up a wicked person.”

“Or a noble one.” Klaus said. “Our parents told us that once they took a taxi to the opera when their car wouldn’t start.”

Kit smiled slightly. “I remember that night. It was a performance of La Forza del Destino. Your mother was wearing a red shawl, with long feathers along the edges. During intermission, I followed them to the snack bar and slipped them a box of poison darts before Esme Squalor could catch me. It was difficult, but as one of my comrades likes to say, ‘To be daunted by no difficulty; to keep heart when all have lost it; to go through intrigue potless; to forgo even ambition when the end is gained- who can say this is not greatness?’ And speaking of greatness, please hold on, we can’t allow an enemy to follow us to brunch.”

Kit swerved again and Nick, who already looked nervous, let out a loud cry.

“Sorry about the rush, Nick!” Kit called, taking another turn. “And sorry about the cramped space! We’ll be out soon- hold on!”

She jolted the wheel, and the Baudelaires suddenly felt as though they were spinning- shit, they might have bin. The car turned sharply and rocketed off the road, hitting some hedges by the side of the path. The Baudelaires shouted as they burst through the shrubbery, with Lilac and Nick clinging tight to their baby sisters, and Violet and Klaus very thankful they’d worn seatbelts. Branches hit the car window, and they felt dirt and roots pulling at the car from the side.

Then, just as soon as it had started, it stopped. The taxi veered into a green lawn, and Kit sighed and placed her head against the steering wheel. “I probably shouldn’t do that in my condition.”

“Condition?” Solitude asked, as a very disoriented Babbitt peered out from her pocket.

“Are you sick?” Klaus asked.

Kit sighed and turned to face them, giving them a careful look. “I’m distraught.” she said. And then she sighed and opened the door. “That’s my condition. I’m distraught, and I’m pregnant.”

She stepped out of the car, and the Baudelaires saw, as she did, that her stomach did indeed have a definite curve.

“Well.” Nick said.

“Gather all your things, Baudelaires,” Kit said, “And if you don’t mind, I’m going to ask you to carry my things, too- just some books and papers in the front seat. One should never leave any belongings in a taxi, because you can never be sure if you’ll see them again. Please be quick about it. Our enemies are likely to turn their taxi around and find us.”

She turned away, then, and began to walk down the sloping lawn.

“So,” Nick said, kicking his feet and glancing down at Soli, “Are we in agreement that we are ‘fucked’, a word which here means, ‘holy shit’?”

“I have… so many questions.” Violet said, slowly shaking her head.

“I think we all do.” Lilac said.

“Do we trust Kit?” Solitude asked, looking after the disappearing woman.

They looked to each other, thinking hard. “Well,” Lilac finally said, “In the few minutes we’ve known her, Kit Snicket has broken at least nine safety laws, driven into a hedge, and seems intent on recruiting us to spy for a secret organization.

“I like her.” Violet decided.

“Me, too.” Klaus added.

“Same!” Sunny said.

Nick gave them all looks. “You guys know…” his voice broke a little, and he shut his eyes and tried to remain focused. “You know VFD isn’t…”

Violet and Solitude each put a hand over his. “We know.” Violet said. “We know you don’t trust them. But where else can we go?”

“Besides, if they can help us kill Olaf,” Klaus said, “I’ll ally with literally anyone.”

“That’s a dangerous statement.” Lilac hesitantly told him.

“Well…” Klaus glanced to the ground. “I think we deserve to be a little volatile right now.”

Nick whimpered slightly, pulling down his sweater sleeves, and then Violet said, “Besides. She knew about La Forza del Destino. Remember when we found the poster for that?”

“Mother said she purchased it during intermission.” Lilac said. “She said it was the most interesting time she’d ever had at the opera, and she never wanted to forget it.”

“I’m sure it was interesting.” Nick muttered, curling up a little. Then he said, “I don’t trust her. But I’ll go with you.”

“And we’ll protect you.” Solitude promised.

“We’ll protect each other.” Lilac said.

Then, slowly, they grabbed everything out of the taxi, and followed Kit across the lawn.

“Oh, what the fuck.” Nick muttered.

Up ahead of them, they saw a huge hotel, towering above them, behind a large reflecting pool big enough that it looked like the hotel itself was on the ground. The sign, though, was spelled backwards on the actual building, several stories high, so it could be read perfectly well reflected in the pool.

“Hotel Denouement.” Sunny said.

“Over here, Baudelaires!” Kit called, waving from a blanket that had been laid out on the lawn, heaped with food.

“Oh, hell yeah.” Violet sighed; they hadn’t seen that much food in what felt like forever.

“Picnic!” Sunny cheered.

“Sit down, sit down!” Kit called, as they moved over, glancing over the food. “Help yourselves to anything you’d like.”

“Who got us this food?” Nick asked suspiciously.

“One of our associates laid it out for us.” Kit said. “It’s a policy of our organization that all picnics travel separately from the volunteers. If our enemies capture the picnic, they won’t get their clutches on us, and if our enemies capture us, they won’t get thet picnic. That’s something to remember during the next couple of days, as you participate in what one of our enemies calls the ‘perpetual struggle for room and food.’ Please try the marmalade.”

The Baudelaires sat, feeling a bit dizzy. Violet pulled out her ribbon to tie her hair back, and Lilac started to do the same, trying to drag her long ribbon from her pocket, but before she could, Kit smiled very softly and produced one of her own. She moved behind Lilac, tying back her hair for her.

“You look just like your father.” Kit sighed, not noticing the flinch Nick made as he reached for some food to pass to Soli. “He wore the same frown whenever he was confused, although he almost never tied his hair up in a ribbon when he solved a problem.”

“Really?” Lilac asked, smiling a little. She’d never told that she looked like her parents.

“Hey, Kitkat?” Nick interrupted, glancing over. “None of this is poisoned, right?”

“If it is, I have common antidotes in my bag.” Kit assured him.

“Are you sure?”

Kit smiled and moved over again, putting a comforting hand on Nick’s shoulder. He flinched back, but not a whole lot. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, Nick. But I promise, at the very least, this meal is safe. You can relax for a few moments.”

“I…” Nick hesitated, glancing to his siblings. Slowly, Violet scooted next to him and Solitude crawled onto his lap, already eating a pastry, and then he nodded. Kit moved back to her seat, smiling as she saw Klaus writing something in his commonplace book.

The Baudelaires slowly started grabbing food, and aside from Solitude and Sunny, who stopped every now and again to toss crumbs to Babbitt, who leapt and did trick for their amusement, they were surprised at how fast they ate, and how relieved they were to finally have a decent source of food.

“Children, have you ever been to the Hotel Denouement?” Kit asked, spreading out some cups.

“No.” Violet said.

“Once, our parents took us to the Hotel Preludio for the weekend.” Lilac remembered.

“Carrots for breakfast!” Sunny grinned.

“Well, that is a lovely place.” Kit said. “But the Hotel Denouement is very special. For years, it’s been a place where our volunteers can gather to exchange information, discuss plans to defeat our enemies, and return books we’ve borrowed from one another. Before the schism, there were countless places that served such purposes. Bookstores and banks, restaurants and stationary stores, cafes and laundromats, opium dens and geodesic domes-”

“I’m sorry, wait, go back.” Nick said, a small smile flickering across his face. “Did you say you guys met in opium dens?”

“Nick!” Lilac groaned, as Violet burst into laughter.

Solitude and Sunny looked from him to a mortified Klaus, very confused. “What’s opium?” Solitude asked.

Nick’s face fell. “Oh, I fucked up.”

Kit laughed there, too. “Nick,” she said, “You remind me so much of your mother. One time she did something similar, accidentally got us into a very awkward conversation with Hector and Miranda.”

Nick’s put his hand over his mother’s necklace, and he glanced down at the cups Kit was setting out. “Mom showed me how to win that cup guessing game.” he said quietly. “When you put something under the cup and mix them up. The trick is to keep your eyes on the first cup and not pay attention to the shuffling.”

“Eyes on the prize.” Kit nodded. “Jacques taught that to your mother.”

The Baudelaires looked a bit guilty. “We’re sorry about Jacques.” Violet said.

“So am I.” Kit sighed. “But I wasn’t surprised. Many noble people have fallen in the last year. Our organization has been shattering ever since I was four years old, and it’s as if the word has shattered, too. One by one, our safe places have been destroyed. When the mountain headquarters was destroyed, only the Hotel Denouement was left. If we’re not careful, every place of nobility and integrity will vanish completely.”

Violet and Nick shared a quiet look, one that their siblings didn’t quite understand, but the two of them read perfectly. “Are you sure?” Violet asked carefully. “Maybe VFD has other headquarters. Or… maybe there’s other noble people. Outside of the Volunteers.”

“That would be nice.” Kit sighed. “But we have… well, let’s say we have a meeting here.”

“On Thursday.” Lilac said.

“We found a message addressed to JS.” Klaus said. “We assumed it was Jacques, but…”

“Yes. That’s why I need your help.” Kit said. “You see, we’ve been trying to find you for some time- I only figured out where you were because of Quigley.”

“You know Quigley?” Violet said, relieved.

“Yes. He managed to find me after getting separated from you all.” Kit said. “He was going to be here, but he had to leave in a helicopter to answer a distress call from a self-sustaining hot air mobile home.”

“Quigley can pilot a helicopter?” Nick asked suspiciously.

“He’ll figure it out. I did when I was his age.” Kit shrugged. “If all goes well, you’ll see all three triplets on Thursday. That is, unless you cancel the meeting.”

“Why would we cancel it?” Lilac asked.

“The last safe place may not be safe after all.” Kit said sadly. “If that’s the case, you Baudelaires will need to send VFD a signal that Thursday’s gathering is cancelled.”

“Why would it not be safe?” Solitude asked, tossing Babbitt more crumbs.

Kit smiled at the young girl, and then opened a folder that the Baudelaires had retrieved from the cab, flipping through. “I’m sorry this is so disorganized. I haven’t had time to update my commonplace book. My brother used to say that if only one had a little more time to do some important reading, all the secrets of the world would become clear. I’ve scarcely looked at these maps, poems sand blueprints that Charles sent me, or chosen wallpaper for the baby’s room. Wait one moment, Baudelaires, I’ll find it. Help yourself to more brunch- I have tea and coffee if you want it, but it’s very bitter. Tea should be bitter as wormwood and sharp as a two-edged sword.”

“That’s fine.” Lilac assured her, reaching for a cup. “I like my coffee bitter.”

“That is surprising.” Kit said absent-mindedly, still looking through papers. “Ah! Here it is! Larry slipped this to me last night by hiding it inside a cookie.”

Kit handed a paper to Klaus, who unrolled it and squinted. “JS has checked in and requested tea with sugar. My brother sends his regards. Sincerely, Frank.”

“You can understand why this message made me so distraught, I’m sure.” Kit said.

“Not really.” Sunny admitted.

“Someone is posing as my brother, Baudelaires.” Kit explained to the toddler. “And he’s checked into the hotel shortly before our entire organization is expected to arrive.”

“Count Olaf?” Violet said, putting an arm around Nick.

“It could be,” Kit said, “But there are plenty of villains who are all too eager to be imposters. But this JS may not be a wicked person. Plenty of noble people would check into the Hotel Denouement and order sugar in their tea. Not to sweeten it, but as a signal. Our comrades and enemies are all after the same thing- the Vessel For Disaccharides.”

“Vessel for wha?” Solitude asked.

“Sugar Bowl.” Sunny explained.

“Wonderful.” Nick sighed, and Klaus and Lilac moved closer to him and their other siblings.

“Exactly.” Kit nodded. “The sugar bowl is on its way to the hotel even as we speak, and I’d hate to think what would happen if our enemies got ahold of it. I can’t imagine anything worse, except perhaps if they got ahold of the Medusoid Mycelium.”

The Baudelaires looked very awkwardly at each other, and then Lilac said, “Um. About that.”

Kit’s face fell. “What?”

“Um. Count Olaf… may have managed to… uh…” Violet said.

“Get a hold of a diving helmet full of Medusoid spores.” Klaus finished, staring very hard at a plate.

“Active ones.” Solitude shuddered.

Kit shut her eyes, and then said, “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Sorry.” Soli said.

“No, no, it’s not your fault. It’s just… nothing is going right.” Kit groaned, running her hand through a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun. “In that case, we have no time to waste. The six of you must infiltrate the Hotel Denouement and observe JS. If JS is a noble person, you must make sure the Sugar Bowl falls into their hands, but if they’re villainous, you must make sure it does not. And I’m sad to say that this won’t be as easy as it sounds.”

“It doesn’t sound easy at all.” Klaus said.

“That’s the spirit.” Kit said. “Of course, you won’t be alone. Showing up early is one of the signs of a noble person, so there are other volunteers already at the hotel. You may even recognize some of them. But you may also recognize some of your enemies, as they will be posing as noble people by showing up as well.”

“How will we tell the villains from the volunteers?” Violet said.

“Pay attention.” Kit said, unhelpfully. “Observe everyone you see, and make judgements for yourselves. You’ll have to become flaneurs.”

“Expound?” Sunny asked, meaning, “Could you please explain that word?”

“Flaneurs,” Kit said, “Are people who quietly observe their surroundings, intruding only when it is absolutely necessary. Children make excellent flaneurs, as so few people notice them. Also,” she lifted up a corner of the picnic blanket, revealing six carefully-wrapped packages. “The man who sent me the message about the imposter is a member of VFD. He suggested that he hire the three of you as concierges. Your uniforms are in these packets.”

“Expound again.” Sunny said.

“A concierge,” Klaus explained, “Is someone who performs various tasks for guests in the hotel.”

“It’s a perfect disguise.” Kit said. “You’ll be doing everything from fetching packages to recommending restaurants. You’ll be allowed in every corner of the hotel, from the rooftop sunbathing salon to the laundry room in the basement, and no one will suspect you’re there to spy on them. Frank will help you as best he can, but be very careful. The schism has turned many brothers into enemies. Under no circumstances should you reveal your true selves to Frank’s treacherous identical brother Ernest.”

“If they’re identical, how do we tell who is who?” Klaus asked.

“Try to pay attention.” Kit said again. “You’ll have to observe everyone you see and make such judgements yourselves. That’s the only way to tell a villain from a volunteer. Is everything clear?”

The Baudelaires glanced to each other, and then Violet said, “What’ll you be doing?”

“I’m going to resolve a certain situation in the sea.” Kit said.

Nick turned to Kit and said, “We’ll all be in danger, you know. If he finds us out… and we’re alone…”

“That’s why you’ll be together.” Kit said, putting her hand gently over Nick’s. “I’ve received reports on your progress, Baudelaires, and while I haven’t been able to reach you, I have seen that you take care of your own.”

Nick bit his lip, and he said, “Fine. We’ll do it. But just to keep the sugar bowl from him.”

Violet and Klaus put their arms around him, and Soli leaned against him, and slowly, all six siblings nodded.

Kit gave them all a reluctant and sad smile, and then repeated, almost to herself, “You Baudelaires take care of your own.”

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