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punkybrewstertoo · 9 months

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A Mind to Tear a Soul in Two: Chapter Two

“What in the bloody hell is that racket?” Arthur asked, sitting at the table in the family’s house, head in his hands.

Tommy grimaced at the question. All day long he’d been desperately trying to ignore the noise coming from the first floor. “Leave it. She’s doing it on purpose. I told her to fix up the mess in her room, so she’s decided to push her bookcases across the hall, and rearrange everything — without help. She’s banging around up there trying to create as much noise as possible just to irritate me. So ignore her.”

Upstairs Charlotte had managed to get her three bookcases moved away from the walls and one of them halfway out Tommy’s bedroom door. Sweating and breathing heavily she told herself that she could do this. No brothers necessary. Tommy said he wanted her new room cleaned and tidied up, so she was taking this opportunity to go all in.

She didn’t like that he was forcing her to do it, but she knew it would be nice to have all her belongings in the right order. It also didn’t hurt that she knew all the noise was getting into Tommy’s head. He was trying to ignore all the stomping and scraping, but she could tell it was getting to him. Which made her endlessly happy. Especially given that Tommy was the reason that she was forced to switch bedrooms in the first place.

When the boys had gotten back from France it had taken Tommy all of six weeks to figure out that his kid sister was escaping in the middle of the night out the window in her bedroom at the back of the house to run around Birmingham. He had noticed her missing from bed late one night so he’d asked around to see what the girl was doing while she was suppose to be sleeping.

Their Uncle Charlie had given him a tip that she’d taken to showing up in the middle of the night to spend time with the horses. He’d told Tommy that he didn’t mind having his niece show up unannounced, out of all of the Shelby kids, she reminded him most of his sister. With her unkempt dirty blonde curls and freckles nose, the girl loved to run wild — just like his own little sister had. She was always sneaking around while nobody was looking, running in the field out where he let his horses graze. Occasionally she’d steal a horse from the stables, disappear for hours, return at nightfall to cool down the horse, and make it back home in time for supper.

Mischievous was an understatement.

But she was a light in the darkness. Always happy to lend a hand, she worked well with the horses — she worked well with anything he’d ask of her for that matter — and never worried about getting her hands dirty. And to top it all off, Curly loved having the girl around, often saying that she was blessed with the mind to speak to the beasts.

For years now Curly had been sweet on Charlotte, and she knew it. She’d go out of her way to spend time with him, making sure he was the first person she greeted and the last person she saw at the end of the day. She also knew this meant that Curly would never tattle on her to her aunt or brothers. Curly liked keeping her secret, it gave them a bond. He often said he knew it would be a good day if there was a Charlie girl sleeping with the horses in the morning.

But Charlie Strong had known that his nephews wouldn’t approve of his namesake sneaking out to his yard at night all on her own. He also knew that the horses weren’t her only late night destination. During the war he’d had no problem keeping his niece's secrets from her aunt, but since November things had started changing, and everyone knew it. He didn’t want to break her confidence, but he’d made a promise to his sister to keep her youngest out of harm's way, and with all the men coming back, Birmingham was not as safe as it once was.

Tommy had tried to put a stop to it immediately, but he’d caught her climbing back in through her window at dawn with hay in her hair twice. And the third time John found her with a group of friends at the Commons Dance Hall one night in December while she should’ve been locked up in her room, due to the aforementioned sneaking in.

Dragging her back to the house on Watery Lane, John had nearly woken up the entire street pounding on the door yelling for Tommy to come down and fetch her.

“John, I’ve got a key, you don’t need to go making Tommy come down to open the door. Just stop and let me open the damn thing.” Ignoring her, John held onto her elbow with one hand, and with the other continued pounding on the door.

She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and looking up she saw Ada watching them through the window in her bedroom, laughing and shaking her head. Finally the door flew open and Tommy stood there furious, gun in hand, pointed directly at John.

Without flinching at the weapon in his face, John jerked Charlotte forward, practically flinging her at Tommy, “I think you’ve misplaced this. You know you’ve got to keep a closer eye on her, Tom.”

Sighing Tommy uncocked the gun, grabbed her by the neck, and growled out, “John, next time just open the bloody door yourself. Don’t make a scene and force me to come down for the show you’re putting on for the neighbours.” Looking around the street Charlotte could see a few faces poking out through their curtains, trying to see what all the commotion was about.

John nodded and walking up the street he shouted over his shoulder, “I thought she could do with the whole street knowing she’s about to get a beating.” Charlotte’s face flushed red, Tommy tightened his grip, and marched her upstairs.

At the sound of their approach Ada poked her head out of her door, “What’s going on–” Interrupting her Tommy ordered Ada to shut the door and go back to bed. Continuing her death march to her room, they reached the end of the hall and Charlotte tried to turn right. Instead, Tommy threw her into his room on the left and she stumbled as he shut the door behind them.

Puzzled at the change of scenery Charlotte straightened herself and began, “What are you–”

“Shut up and get into the fucking bed.”

Tommy turned his back on her, expecting her to obey, while he stoked the coal in the fire. He knew this would be a long night. Turning around he saw Charlotte still standing in place, the question about to pass her lips. He took a menacing step toward her, “I told you, get in the fucking bed.”

Still not moving, she chewed on her fingernails and slurred slightly, “But what about you sleeping?” She’d been drinking. He should’ve known. This kid was going to send him to an early grave. It wouldn’t be the the gambling, guns, or the war, it would be this damned sister; at least he’d die proving Polly wrong.

“After all that noise John made trying to embarrass you on the street, I’m not going back to sleep.” Then reaching out to grab her arm he took hold of her, threw her into bed, and in the same motion covered her with his quilt.

“Go to sleep. If you say one more word, I’ll drag you out back, throw a bucket of water on you, and beat the tar out of you for the whole neighbourhood to hear. You want that?” Shaking her head, Charlotte shut her eyes and pulled the quilt up to her chin.

Tommy turned on his heel and took a seat at his desk. The nightmares wouldn’t let him rest tonight, he might as well get some work done while he was keeping his truant sister from sneaking out and running wild. Picking up the book and going over a ledger he heard a small thump.

Looking up, Charlotte hadn’t moved her body, the quilt was still tucked at her chin, and her eyes were tightly closed. But she had managed to stick her feet out from the blanket and was using one foot to try to kick off the shoe still stubbornly attached to her other foot.

After a minute of her struggling to relieve herself of the shoe, Tommy walked over, grabbed her ankle and removed the shoe himself, “Stop messing around and fucking go to sleep.” As her two feet slowly slid back under the sheets, Charlotte buried her face in the pillow, and finally followed his orders.

Reaching down to grab the other shoe, Tommy noticed something curious. Something he’d previously missed in his blinded irritation at both John and Charlotte. These were heeled shoes. These were women’s shoes. These were absolutely not Charlotte’s shoes. “Ada...” Cursing her name he took the shoes and decided to return them to their rightful owner.

Opening the door to Ada’s room he found her sitting in a lounge chair by the fire. She startled at his entrance,

“Bloody hell, Tommy. It’s four in the morning.” Ignoring her protest at his intrusion he held up the shoes, “What are these, Ada?”

Smirking, she replied, “Looks like a fine pair of shoes, Tommy, but I doubt they’ll go with anything you have.” He threw the shoes on the floor. “Why was our sister wearing your shoes and a fancy dress? You don’t seem surprised or upset to find that she nicked something of yours. Why is that Ada?”

Damn. He knew she’d willingly given them to Charlie; there was no point in lying. If she was forthcoming on a little bit of the truth he’d likely not press her for the full story.

“Alright. I gave her the shoes. She said she was going out with some friends so I did her up nice. That’s what big sisters are supposed to do, Thomas!” Getting defensive she crossed her arms not wanting to rat her sister out any further. Tommy wasn’t having it.

“And the dress, Ada? What’s she doing that she needed to wear a dress?”

Was he really going to force this out of her? “That’s what girls wear! They wear dresses!”

Rolling his eyes Tommy responded, “This whole town knows that our sister doesn’t wear dresses. Don’t try to pull that shit with me. Is there a boy? Who is he?”

Ada laughed, “Trust me Tommy, the only boys in her life are the ones she’s handing out black eyes to over by the cut.” He glared at her, expecting more but she pointedly refused to answer.

“The secrets your keeping for her are going to get her hurt one day, Ada. This town isn’t safe for a girl out on her own. Ada scoffed at him, “Get out Tommy. I want to go to sleep. And don’t worry about our secrets, I think us Shelby girls can handle ourselves just fine.”

Giving her one final glare, Tommy left the room, intentionally leaving the door open, just to annoy her. Sighing, Ada got up and closed her door. She knew with Tommy awake she wouldn’t be making any early morning secret trips herself. Crossing her fingers she hoped that Charlie wouldn’t let Ada’s secret slip, or they’d both be in for it. Twenty two years old or thirteen, the Shelby sisters were under their brother’s thumb, and they needed to keep a tight lipped ship.

Tommy had stayed up all night checking his numbers, nodding off a time or two only to jolt awake at the sound of a pickaxe coming from the other side of the wall. At dawn he’d dragged Charlie out of bed, dealt a good old fashioned whipping, and set her to task switching rooms. She’d spent the whole day carrying books and shuffling clothes from one room to the other. As part of her punishment Tommy had forced her to move his belongings, as well as her own, threatening her with another thrashing if any of his possessions were to go missing or end up broken. She’d taken extra care to put all of Tommy’s things in their proper place.

Unable to take her frustration out on Tommy’s things she’d simply thrown her own belongings into her new space without much care. Her brothers hadn’t been available to help her to move any of the bookcases, so she was forced to leave them with Tommy. In the many months since the move it seemed like chaos reigned in the Shelby house, and none of them had had the time to help her with the cases, so her books remained strewn out on the floor.

Tommy had left one case for books, and she’d created a semi-organised system of piles that ranged from favourites closest to the bed, least favourites over in the corner by the wardrobe, and everything else in between. Other than putting her clothes into the wardrobe and fixing her bedding, Charlotte hadn’t spent any effort trying to make the room her own. But now that she was damned to live the rest of her life stuck in the room, she decided to take this opportunity to move her bookcases from Tommy’s room and make this new room her own.

Back downstairs, the sound of dragging furniture was driving Arthur up the wall. He couldn’t hear himself think with Charlotte throwing books around, moving her bed from one wall to the other, and attempting to push the furniture from the back room to her new room at the front of the house. After a loud thud, he’d had enough.

“That’s it.” Arthur growled, “John, come with me.”

Tommy watched while his brothers headed up the stairs. He’d have to hand it to his sister, she was following his rules and doing what was asked of her. And yet she still managed to find a way to give him hell.

Picking herself off the floor from where she’d tripped over a rug that got bunched during the rearranging, Charlotte heard the infantry coming. “Charlie! Enough with all the noise!” Arthur came stomping up the stairs with John right behind him.

“Alright, Lottie. What is it that needs to be moved? Let’s get this done before Arthur puts a pistol to his head.” Laughing Charlotte stuck her arm out, fingers in the shape of a gun and shot her brother, “Bang, you’re dead.” John threw himself up against the wall and slid down it, collapsing in a heap, tongue sticking out of his mouth.

Glaring at his brother’s dead body Arthur got straight to business, “Right. This big one here, this is moving?” John picked himself up off the ground and Charlotte nodded, “You mean this big one here? The one that I’ve already got half way out the door? Yeah, Arthur, this big one is moving.” Arthur smacked her upside the head and she continued, “And then the two other empty ones in the middle of Tommy’s room. Be careful not to trip over the rug. It’s caught underneath this case, I can’t get it straightened out.”

Sticking his head into her room Arthur looked around at the available space. She’d pushed all of her books up against the walls, but the place was still a wreck. “And where are you planning on putting three whole bookcases?”

Shrugging Charlotte responded, “Not sure yet. Just put them in the middle and I’ll figure it out later.”

“You know, Tommy told you to clean this place, not make it worse.”

She sighed, exasperated, “I’m working on it, Arthur. You're the one that came up here with demands, you gonna help me or not?”

Nodding his head Arthur agreed, “We’re gonna help you, but you’re going to decide where these bookcases are going now, not later. No more pushing these around on your own. You’re knocking pictures off the wall, and there’s dust falling in to Johnny boy’s tea cup.”

Rolling her eyes at his attempted joke Charlotte tried to argue, “But Arthur, I don’t know where I want–”

“Just do it. Tommy’s not the only one in charge around here. And hurry up, we ain’t got all day.”

Knowing she wasn’t going to win this fight, she grinned and gave in. “Alright, but only because you asked so very nicely.” Pointing around the room she quickly decided where the bookcases would go. Once her decision was made Arthur straightened up and started barking orders. “John, you grab that end there. From the bottom, not the middle. Charlie, clear out those stacks of books, throw them on the bed and push it out of the way. Then move that chair and we’ll bring in the other two.”

A quarter hour later and her brothers had made quick work of the furniture. Looking around the room, it gave the impression that a tornado had come through, but her bookcases were in place and ready to be filled.

“Well, you brutes did some good work here.” Charlotte smiled thanking her brothers for their help. “Any time Charlie girl. Just keep the noise down, yeah? The grown-ups have important work to do.” Kissing her on the head as he ran out of the room, Arthur ducked and barely missed a hardcover edition of Oliver Twist hitting his head.

Laughing at Arthur making his retreat, John picked up the book and handed it back to her. “You know, Tommy means it, right? If you can keep outta trouble he’s gonna let you in, you’ll be one of the grown-ups at the table. Just like Ada was. You just gotta keep your nose clean, Lottie.” Charlotte scoffed at him, “Just like Ada, John? I don’t think so. He’s never going to trust me like Ada. Aunt Pol won’t either.”

Turning to her largest bookcase she gently placed Oliver Twist on the shelf, subtly checking to make sure she hadn’t caused any damage when she threw it. “I’m just the troublemaker that runs wild. The girl in boys trousers. I’m not the responsible one. Tommy’s never going to see things any different. He might let me have a vote, but it won’t ever be like Ada.”

John shook his head disagreeing with her, “That’s not true, you just gotta behave long enough to prove yourself. Honestly, I think he’s got some plan for you that he’s not telling any of us about. You got brains, more than Ada ever had, and he’s noticed. But, if you keep getting drunk at the Commons and stealing from the pub, he’ll never take you seriously.”

Grumbling in response Charlotte started to explain, “I wasn’t there to get drunk, John. You dragged me off before I ever got a chance to explain...”

“It doesn’t matter what the explanation is, you keep disobeying him and you’ll be a prisoner here forever.” Charlotte signed in frustration, “I’m tired of being stuck in this room all the time. If I'm not in here, I'm in the shop. Or at school. Or with your kids. I never have any time alone anymore. I can't even go out with the horses anymore.”

“Well, you ain’t gonna be doing anything out in the fields with the horses if you don’t grow up. You’ll never get the chance. He’ll have this place locked down tighter than a communist in the King’s dungeon. Things are changing around–”

Interrupting Charlotte was exasperated, “You keep saying that! ‘Things are changing!’ ‘Things are going to be different!’ But I don’t know what any of that fucking means! One day this place is ransacked by a bunch of mushroom picking bastards and there’s a bomb in the car. The next you’re getting married to one of the Lee’s that tried to blow us up. One day I’m a gypsy orphan with a bunch of gangster brothers, and the next thing I know me own father shows up in the kitchen. But then Tommy kicks him out and doesn’t let me speak to him. Then there’s Ada... One day I got a sister, and the next day Polly’s trying to send her away with tickets to New York. Is that what 'things are changing' means, John? Is it?”

Standing in front of him, fists clenched, she finally took a breath. John’s only response was a raised eyebrow, a cocky grin, and an arrogant, “You feel better?”

Taking a breath she exhaled deeply, “God! You’re the worst.”

“No, I’m the best. You know I am. I know you better than those two idiots we call brothers, yeah?” Nodding at him she cracked a grin.

“Good, now that we both agree I’m the best, let’s both agree to ignore what you said about my wife’s family.” Laughing at him she crossed her arms and tossed herself into the stuffed chair sitting by the fire.

“Now listen, things are changing and I’m not at liberty to explain it to you, but you’ll be finding out soon enough. It’s not that Tommy doesn’t trust you, Lottie, it’s that he’s scared for you.” Charlotte rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to protest, but John continued on before she got a word out. “He’s scared for both you and Ada, why do you think he tried to get Ada and Freddie outta here?” She scoffed at him, “Because he’s an overbearing control freak that doesn’t trust anyone with an ounce of freedom or knowledge.”

John shook his head, ignoring her, “He’s torn, he wants to let you in. It’s a family business. But he lost Ada, he doesn’t want to lose you too. But you’re always acting before thinking, and that’s gonna get you hurt. Tommy and Aunt Pol, they keep arguing what to do with you. Pol wants you to keep clear of all of this, she thinks that’s the best way. Tommy’s not convinced. Because it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s that you’re the same, you and Tommy. He’s scared because he knows how your mind works. He knows that you’re inclined to go off without thinking, like you always do, because it’s what he woulda done at your age. The difference is, that Tommy had Freddy and me and Arthur by his side getting in trouble with him, keeping him from getting killed. You don’t have that. Which is what I’ve been telling Tommy about getting you more involved. If you were part of things then you would have us at your side. You’d be safer. You’d also be too busy with us to go stealing whisky and picking fights. But like I said, you gotta keep your nose clean before he’s really gonna start trusting ya.”

Charlotte sat in the silence, taking in what John had told her. “You telling me the truth? Was Tommy really just like me?” Rolling his eyes, John replied, “Christ, Lottie, is that the only thing you got outta all I just said?”

“Well? Was he?”

Sighing, John knew she wasn’t going to let up and it would be easier to give in and tell her what she wanted to know. God, she was just like Tommy.

Walking forward he took a seat in the chair that she’d stolen from Ada’s room. “Tommy told us about you wanting to know more about from before. He said that Aunt Pol told you to keep quiet and stop asking. I didn’t know that... I’m sorry she told ya to do that. I think it’s because she feels guilty about being gone when Ma passed. She was strung out with her kids being taken and didn’t have the right mind to deal with what was happening here.”

Shaking his head he pressed on, “I think that’s another story for a later time though. But as for you and Tommy... Right, well you woulda been too young to really remember, but Tommy was always sneaking out and spending time with Uncle Charlie’s horses. He’d be gone for whole days at a time. Ma never worried much, she’d give him hell when he walked in that door — if Da didn’t get to him first. But he did it often. He was great in school — much better than me or Arthur — but he never took the time to show up, because the fields and horses were more important. Then there was the drinking and dancing... He and Freddy were at the dance hall every other night picking up girls, getting drunk, and being rowdy. They both got kicked out a few times, even. Now the fighting, you got that from Arthur. Tommy never had to fight with Arthur by his side. If anything Tom had to make sure Arthur was behaving himself and not throwing any unnecessary punches. ” Laughing, Charlotte chimed in, “I can see that.”

“But can you see it, Lottie? The whole thing? He worries more about you than Ada because he knows your mind. He knows how unpredictable you can be. He might not know how to control you — he never had to control himself — but he knows you because he knows himself. You were too young to really know him before the war, but take my word for it, you’re the same. That’s why he’s so mad about you running around by yourself and sleeping in the stables. He’s mad because his kid sister turned out just like him, and he knows he’ll never find a way to make you stop. The only thing that kept him away was the war. And the war changed everything...”

John stopped himself from going any further in that direction, he didn’t want to get into war stories. Those were better off left for dead in the fields of France.

Taking advantage of the silence, Charlotte dug further, “But if the only thing that kept him away from the horses was the war, why’s he trying so hard to stop me?”

“Because Birmingham isn’t as safe as it was before. The men that came home aren’t the same as when they left. There’s nothing stopping one of them from having their way with any girl on the street.”

Cutting in Charlotte told him, “I can handle meself.”

Shaking his head at her confidence John continued, “There’s also this Inspector Campbell from Belfast that’s got us all watching our backs. He’s dangerous, and he’s got something against us. It’s like it’s personal between him and Tommy. And all that doesn’t even include the races.”

Confused at his last point, Charlotte asked, “But Tommy got the license. It’s all legal now. Isn’t it?” John’s reply was simple, “Mostly.” Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him. There was something else. Something he wasn’t saying. But before she could question him on it John started speaking again.

“He’s doing what he thinks is best to keep you safe. You’re our kid sister, it’s our job to keep you safe. With Ada off on her own now, he doesn’t want to lose another sister, so he’s doubling down on you. You might not be the same as Ada, but you’re his twin in mind and heart, Ada understands his soul. Ada understands all of us all like a puzzle. She knows exactly what each of us needs from her. She’s a mother through and though. But you, Lottie, you he loves more than any of us and he knows he can’t break you, so he’s keeping you locked up here until you can learn to behave.”

“If he knows he can’t break me, why does he go whipping me every time he catches me with the horses or running around town? If he knows that’s where my heart is, why's he always punishing me for it? You know, I’ve gotten beaten more times since you’ve been back than the entire time you were away for the war."

Laughing at her John explained, “He’s trying to get through to you the only way he knows how. Just be glad it’s not Da or Arthur taking that strap to your backside. Trust me, I know from experience, it could be worse. You both are just too stubborn to give in. Besides, it doesn’t seem like those whippings are doing you any harm.”

She shrugged, “Eh, It’s not that bad. I can take it just as good as any of you. It’s not as bad as when Aunt Pol got me. And really, I’d rather take a whipping than end up in here for another week.”

Standing up, John laughed at her, “You really are just like him. You’ll take a beating if it means getting what you want in the end. But could you hold off on causing any trouble for a little while? My Katie and Ethan have been asking for their Auntie Lottie to come read to them. They miss their story time. Get it together and stop disappointing my kids, you gypsy troublemaker.” Laughing at him, Charlotte watched as John made he was downstairs. “I’ll try. That’s the best I can do, brother.”

After John had made his exit downstairs, Charlotte sat in her chair by the fire thinking over what he had told her. She could see how her sneaking out and running around Birmingham was effecting Tommy. She didn’t like it, but his strangling hold on her made more sense now. She supposed that for the better of the family she could follow the rules and give Tommy a bit more control; or at the very least let him think that he’d been given more control. Maybe then he’d loosen up and let her have some wild moments.

Standing up to get back to her cleaning she clapped her hands together and told herself it was a done deal, she’d stop running off every chance she got. And maybe Tommy would give her some freedom back.

After a few hours of rearranging and moving stacks of books around, Charlotte’s room was starting to look presentable. At the very least you could see the floor again. Looking around she counted about twelve books that still needed a home off the floor. Then remembering that Tommy still had another ten books captive in his office, she realised that the only available space would be on top of the wardrobe. The shelves and bookcases were full, so the wardrobe would have to do. Unable to reach the top all on her own, she walked back into Tommy’s room, grabbed the desk chair he’d taken the day before and hauled it back to give her the height she needed to finish her cleaning.

Picking up her stuffed chair she set it right up against the wardrobe. She then put her desk chair on top to give her the extra height she needed to reach the top. Stepping into the stuffed chair she wobbled trying to step on to the desk chair. That wasn’t going to work. She needed something to hold onto so she wouldn’t fall over. Stepping down she pushed the chest of drawers to the stacked chairs and wedged the chairs between the drawers and the wardrobe. That was better. Pushing aside her mother's pitcher and water basin, as well as her framed family portrait, she placed the books within reach on the chest.

Stepping onto the stuffed chair she braced herself with the chest and gingerly climbed onto the wobbling desk chair. Looking up onto the top of the wardrobe Charlotte saw three small blue vials the size of her smallest finger. Curious, she grabbed one and popped the topper of the vial.

“Well, shit.” She muttered to herself. “Snow.”

She guessed Tommy had put them up there for safe keeping and forgot about them. She wondered how long they’d been up there. She wasn’t necessarily surprised by the discovery, she knew Tommy used an opium pipe to help him sleep, but she’d never seen him using cocaine. Not that he'd ever knowingly let her see him using. She'd only found out about the pipe after a particularly bad night when he'd woken up screaming his bloody head off.

After the boys returned from the war she’d heard Tommy shouting in the night, every night. Aunt Polly told her to leave him be, that war did strange things to men. But as the nights went on, Tommy’s nightmares got worse and worse. Sometimes Tommy would wake himself up and just start throwing things. Other times it sounded like he was about to punch his way through the walls from his room into Ada’s.

It scared them to the point that Ada had taken to sleeping in the back room with Charlotte — that was, when she was sleeping in the Shelby home and not somewhere else. Eventually the sisters had asked their aunt to come back and stay at the house, they were scared that he’d to something to hurt himself and they wouldn’t be able to help him.

Agreeing, Polly had managed to find excuses to stay the night for about a week before Tommy noticed and wanted to know what she was on about. Polly had taken him aside and told him that his sisters were worried about his nightmares and they were scared to be in the house alone with him. A few days after that the shouting lessened and he’d stopped throwing things. Polly had moved back to her flat and assured the girls that he had gotten himself some medication and they shouldn’t worry any longer.

But the night that she found Tommy screaming, she’d never get it out of her mind. It had been a particularly dry and clear night, not long after Christmas. Charlotte had stayed up waiting for the house to clear and Tommy to go to sleep so that she could slip out unnoticed. She’d planned to head over to Uncle Charlie’s yard to spend some time with her favourite horse, Annabelle. She hadn't been to visit in a week or so because of all the rain and she was growing impatient. The winter months were hard on everyone, horses included. With all the cold rain and mud, they weren’t put out to graze and Charlotte could feel them getting anxious stuck up in the stables all day. Hell, she was getting anxious stuck up in her house all day.

As the house grew quite and everything became still in the night, Charlotte pulled on her boots, grabbed her jacket, and stuffed the Webley revolver John had given her into her back pocket. She’d opened up the window and was about to make her way onto the roof of the kitchen below when she’d heard the shouting.

Pausing for a moment, she waited to see what the sound was. The shout came again. Sighing she realised that it was Tommy. It was just his nightmares. It had gotten better since Aunt Pol talked with him but it was still happening regularly, and she knew to just ignore him and leave him be. Sighing she continued her climb out the window, until she’d heard the gunshot.

The sound had sent her flying to the floor. Covering her head and breathing heavily she listened carefully. Not knowing if the shot had come from Tommy or from an intruder she crawled to her bedroom door, pressing her ear against it to listen for any sounds of a fight. Then she heard Tommy shout again, and another gunshot.

Panicked Charlotte knew that something was wrong. Reaching for her own gun she stood and opened her door. Walking carefully as to not make a noise, she raised the gun, arms outstretched continuing her path to Tommy. As she reached his door everything had gone silent again. No yelling. No more gunshots. Keeping her body pressed against the wall, gun still outstretched in front of her, she reached one hand out and grasped the doorknob. Readying herself for a fight, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

As the door swung wide, both Shelby’s moved simultaneously. Tommy’s head and gun shot up as Charlotte’s feet propelled her forward into his room. Everything happened before she could release her breath. She looked around not seeing anyone else as a final shot rang out.

Charlotte flinched as she felt the air move next to her. Then more shouting. Then the air was leaving her lungs as she was slammed against the wall. She tried to make sense of what was happening.

Her eyes were closed, and Tommy was yelling. Was he yelling? He ears were ringing. It was hard to tell. She felt hands on her face and she snapped her eyes open.

It was Tommy.

He looked panicked.

Funny.

Wasn’t she the one that was suppose to be panicked?

He had her pressed against the wall, his hands holding her face, and he was saying something.

Confusion was written across her features as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. There wasn’t anyone else here. It was Tommy shooting. It was Tommy that shot at her. Was she shot? Had her brother shot her?

Finally meeting his eyes, Tommy’s voice found its way to hear ears. “What were you thinking? What were you thinking? Charlotte?” His hands shook as he removed them from her face. Running his hand down her arms he grabbed her waist and pressed on her stomach.

“Where is it? Where did I get you? Where are you hurt?” He continued to manhandle her as she realised what he was doing. Trying to find her voice she whispered, “Stop. It’s ok. Stop.” Ignoring her and still searching for a wound she had to shout to get his attention, “Tommy! Stop! I’m ok. Stop. Look, right there. That’s where the bullet hit.”

Pointing to the wall next to her Tommy stood up and looked from her to the wall and back again. Shaking and sweating he started to speak again. “What were you doing? Why did you come in here? And where the fuck did you get this gun?”

Reaching down he snatched it from her hands and threw it on the floor. Grabbing her face again he leaned closer whispering to her, “What were you thinking, huh? Why were you running in here with a gun?” Shivering she tried to explain, “I thought there was someone here. I thought... I thought that you were hurt and–”

Cutting her off Tommy finished her sentence, “And you thought you’d help me. Is that it? You thought that someone had hurt me and instead of getting out of the house, you ran in here to help? You didn’t think that you’d get hurt too?”

His words reached her mind and she slowly nodded her head. Looking up at him she saw tears running down his face. She tried to take a breath only for a sob to escape and she realised her own tears had made an appearance.

Pulling her into his chest Tommy tried to lecture her, “You can’t to that Charlie. You can’t come running in here like that. You gotta think about these things.”

His admonishment made her cry harder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wanted to help. I didn’t know.”

They stood silent, Tommy holding onto her for a minute or two before he took a breath and walked her to his bed. Sitting her on the edge he knelt in front of her. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sorry for the yelling and the shooting. I'm trying to make it better. I didn’t realise it was you. Do you understand that? I didn’t know it was you. I didn't mean to shoot at you.”

Nodding at him, he continued, “You can’t do that again. You can’t come in here if I’m yelling, ok? It’s not safe.”

Looking back at him, Charlotte responded. “But I thought you were in trouble.”

Taking her hands in his, he tightened his grip. “I know Charlie, I know. But you can’t do that. If you hear gunshots, you run in the other direction, ok? You run. Go get John or Arthur. But don’t you try to help.” Feeling dejected she agreed, “Yeah. Ok. I got it.”

“Good. Now where’d you get that gun? Do you even know how to use it?” As he walked over to where he’d thrown it on the ground she tried to explain, “John gave it to me. Maybe the day after you got off the train. He said it was for emergencies. I don’t know why it’s a big deal... You all have them. Even Ada has one.”

Walking back to her with the revolver Tommy opened the cylinder and paused. “Charlie, there’s one bullet in here. You didn’t think to check for bullets?”

Embarrassed, she shook her head and looked the other way. Sitting down on the bed next to her he emptied the bullet into his hand and passed the gun back to her. “Right, well. How about tomorrow I show you how to use this thing? We can go out to the field and shoot some bottles. You gotta learn before you go pointing that thing at people.” Taking the bullet he opened the drawer on his bedside table and dropped it inside. He then picked up the pipe and tin cramming them in there as well.

“What’s that Tom?” Not looking at her he explained, “That’s to help me sleep, Charlie girl. Now why don’t you go do that yourself, eh?” Pointing out the door he added, “In your bed, not in the stables.”

Groaning at him she asked, “Well, if I can’t go to the horses, can I stay here with you? I’ll read and be quiet, I promise.” Agreeing, he stood up and headed to the door, “Sure you can. But I’m going to put the kettle on. You want a cup?” She nodded and heading down the stairs he called to her, “Get those muddy boots off the bed, Charlie.” Groaning she walked back to her room, rid herself of the boots and found a book to help her fall asleep.

That night Charlotte had fallen asleep in Tommy’s bed with a book in her hands before he ever made it back upstairs with their tea. Putting her cup of tea on his table, and pulling her book from her hands he sat down next to her on top of the blanket, his back resting against the bed frame. Looking at her book in his hands he read the title, ‘Dubliners’. Well, it looked like James Joyce would be keeping him company tonight. He didn’t trust himself to fall asleep with her in the room. For fuck’s sake, he’d nearly shot her tonight. He needed to be more careful. No more loaded guns under his pillow. In the morning he’d double check that she was alright, and make sure she promised to never bring this up to anyone else, ever. This needed to stay between them.

Thinking back on what was probably the worst night of her life, Charlotte put the stopper back on the vial and put it back where she’d found it. It felt a little like a trap to her. If Tommy remembered the vials and went to retrieve them and they weren’t there, he’d think she’d used it and she’d be in for it. Her brothers rarely let her drink whisky, snow was definitely out of the question. But she also knew that if she handed them over, they’d likely end up in Arthur’s hands, and months ago Polly had enlisted her help in keeping the stuff away from him.

She’d read in the papers that the government was working on a new law to ban certain drugs throughout all of England, and cocaine was at the top of their list. She was just going to pretend like she’d never found the vials. Putting them back where they were she decided to forget about it and move along. Nothing to see here.

Getting back to her business she reached behind her, holding onto the top ledge of the wardrobe, to grab her stack of books. She grumbled to herself as her fingertips just barely grazed the top of the stack. Damn. She could barely touch the very top book, she wasn’t going to reach the entire stack unless her arm grew about six inches in the next six seconds.

Trying not to abandon all hope she slowly shifted her feet so she was standing to the side and could more easily see and reach the books. She gently bent her knees trying to maintain her balance as the stacked chairs wobbled underneath her. Reaching over a little farther she tried to get a grasp on the books. As her hand made contact with the top book, her fingers holding purchase to the wardrobe ledge slipped, and she felt the full force of her weight falling into the chest of drawers.

As the chairs collapsed and the room tilted out from underneath her she made a small squeaking yelp before the chest crashed over and she followed after. She heard something shatter and felt a sharp pain before her head hit the ground and everything went black.

Down in the shop, the head of the men milling about jerked upward as they heard a crash followed by a thud that actually did shake the walls. Arthur, his irritation growing at the continuation of her noise after his assistance, nearly shouted, “I’m gonna kill her if she does that one more time.”

Shushing her nephew Polly stepped in to calm his nerves, “Don’t worry. I’ll go upstairs and see what she’s doing and if she needs more help.” Placing her cup of tea on his desk Polly marched up the stairs calling her nieces name, “Charlotte! Charlie? What in the bloody hell are you doing up here?” Reaching the end of the hall she turned into Charlotte’s room and froze. “Holy Jesus...”

Charlotte lay in the middle of the room a puddle of blood beginning to form near her leg. She was unconscious and her shoulder looked to be at an odd angle. Polly turned, walking briskly back to the top of the stairs and trying to keep her voice calm as to not cause any chaos she called down, “John! I need you upstairs for a moment. Quickly.”

She herself turned and ran back to Charlotte. She fell to the ground beside her niece, and picking up her head to place it in her lap Polly simultaneously checked the girl’s breathing. Polly sighed in relief and tried tapping Charlotte’s cheek hoping to wake her up.

Making his way up the stairs Polly heard John's voice, “Alright ladies, what is it this time?” Walking into the room he too froze, silent. Polly began to give him instructions while he stood in shock at the sight before him.

“Go fetch you wife, John. Go get Esme. She told me she had some nurses training while Ada was giving birth. Go get her. Look at me, John. Look at me. Walk downstairs calmly. And don’t you dare run until the shop door is closed. Not a person down there needs to be panicked at this sight just yet, and we sure as hell don’t need to go running off any bets. Now, go! John! Go get your wife!” Her firm voice snapped him back to reality, and nodding at her instructions he left.

Stoically John walked back down the stairs, through the shop, and to the door. In the back of his mind he knew Arthur was calling for him, but he kept moving. He ignored his oldest brother and just as Polly said to, he calmly shut the door before letting out a breath and running down the block shouting for Esme.

As Polly examined Charlotte’s injuries she discovered a bleed at the back of her head, her shoulder was definitely dislocated, and the pooling blood was coming from a large shard of ceramic lodged into the girl’s leg. Looking around the room she saw two chairs on their sides; one desk chair and one stuffed lounge chair. Charlotte’s chest of drawers had fallen face down, the pitcher and basin that had once sat atop it shattered in pieces on the ground next to the glass that had once belonged to the frame holding their family portrait. Looking down at her nieces face nestled in her lap she muttered, “Bloody hell. What were you up to?”

Back downstairs the door to the betting shop flew open and John ran in, breathing heavily and holding Esme’s hand. Polly had told him to keep calm, but to hell with that. John rushed Esme up the stairs and into the same room he had just exited not five minutes earlier. Upon arriving at the mess of books, glass, and blood Esme got to work examining Charlotte and talking to Polly. Standing and staring, waiting for instructions from Esme he startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“What in the fuck happened here?” Arthur shouted, fear audible in his voice. Polly raised her head to the men standing in the doorway. “Keep it down. This is family business and none of the men downstairs placing bets needs to know that something is amiss up here.” Both brothers nodded, agreeing with their aunt’s assessment. Finally concluding her assessment of their sister Esme turned and spoke to the brothers, “Which one of you can put a shoulder back into place?” Arthur, stepped forward, “That’d be me. I can do it.”

As Arthur walked forward Charlotte began to cough, eyes fluttering open. There was a sigh of relief from the room and Charlotte looked around and muttered, “Fuck.” She tried to sit up and Esme held her down, “No. No. Don’t do that. Lay still.”

Ever the stubborn one, Charlotte became indignant, “Wait for what? Just lemme up.” Turning around, Esme called to John, “Come here and help. John you’ll need to hold her while Arthur does the job.” Still confused and trying to sit up Charlotte became concerned as the boys walked toward her, “Wait. Wait. Hold on just a minute. Just hold on a fucking minute.”

Turning to Esme she questioned, “Why’s he got to hold me? And what’s Arthur about to do?” John and Arthur looked to one another and continued walking toward her without speaking. Getting up, Polly switched places with John and he hoisted Charlotte into a sitting position.

Heading for the door Polly announced, “I’m going to go get some rags and whisky, I think we’ll need it.” Calling after her, Esme added, “And bowls for water... And a sewing kit!” Settling in so that Charlotte’s back rested against his chest John started to explain what was about to happen. “You just gotta hold still Lottie. Esme knows what she’s doing and she says Arthur’s gotta put that shoulder back into place. So just hold still and then we’ll get that chunk of glass outta your leg.”

Trying to put on a brave face Charlotte tried, unsuccessfully, not to panic. “Just hold on. Just lemme breathe a second, ok? You all need to wait.” Leaning forward Arthur reached out to grab ahold of Charlotte’s left shoulder and elbow. “It’s gotta be done now, Charlie. The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be. Just take a breath. It’s not gonna hurt that bad. I bet that piece of pitcher sticking outta your leg there hurts a lot worse.”

Staring back at Arthur Charlotte asked, “Do you even know what you’re doing? I mean, how many times–”

Charlotte’s line of questioning was cut short as Arthur tightened his grip, locked eyes with John, and jerked her shoulder up and into place. The room went silent for exactly three seconds as Charlotte opened her mouth to scream.

Air escaped her lungs, but no noise came.

Closing her eyes and finally inhaling she released a scream that nearly shattered the windows.

Wincing and trying to cover his ears Arthur said flatly, “Well, there goes Polly’s plan to keep this family business.”

Another three seconds passed and opening her eyes wide Charlotte found her words, “Fuck you, Arthur Shelby! You fucking liar. Fuck you! It’s not gonna hurt?” Holding up his hands in defence Arthur backed away as Charlotte flung her leg up, trying to kick him. Unsuccessful, she tried again and continued to yell. “Get back over here. Lemme show you how much it’s not gonna hurt, you son of a bitch.”

Heading toward the door Arthur announced that his work here was done and he had to be somewhere to be. Yelling at his retreat, Charlotte continued, “Where you going, Arthur? Come back here, it’s not gonna hurt, I promise.” Trying not to laugh John kept hold on his sister, “Lottie, calm down! You got a whole pitcher stuck in your leg there and you’re gonna bleed out if you don’t stop thrashing around.”

Kneeling down and pressing her hands on either side of the ceramic sticking out of Charlotte’s leg, Esme came to his aid, “Charlie, you really need to stop moving, you’re making it worse.” Charlotte immediately stopped moving and looked down at her leg. It was as if she was seeing the damage there for the first time. The blood drained from her face and she leaned back into him once more, “Shit, that looks bad.” Rolling his eyes John responded, “You’re not wrong there.”

Tommy had decided to move his work into his office after his aunt and both brothers had abandoned him to head upstairs. He tried to ignore John’s leaving, then returning with Esme. He was busy. Whatever it was, Polly could handle it. Opening up his journal, he got to work. Minutes later he looked up as Polly made her way back down the stairs and into the family’s house. He tried to catch her eye, but she pointedly refused to acknowledge him.

Closing the book he sighed, stood, and went to follow her. “Polly? What’s wrong? You look stressed.” Digging around in the pantry and pulling out some towels she replied, “It’s fine, Thomas. Go back to your work. I’ve got this under control.” Not quite convinced he pressed her further, “Are you sure Pol? What’s Esme doing up there? And what the fuck are you looking for in there?” Responding without answering his questions Polly asked, “Where’s the whisky?” Rolling his eyes Tommy decided that two could play this game.

“What’s going on upstairs, Polly? Is there something wrong?” Polly continued to ignore him and walked into the kitchen. Grabbing her by the arm he forced her to stop what she was doing and look at him. “Fucking answer me. What is going–”

He was cut short by a raging scream that could've risen the dead. Polly’s eyes went wide as Tommy locked his eyes on hers. Raising his eyebrows, he waited for an explanation.

“Right. Well, that was probably Arthur putting her shoulder back in place.” His own eyes grew wide at her explanation. Before he could get a word out Polly was back to digging around under the kitchen sink. “We need a bottle of whiskey and a sewing kit. Wait, no. Make that two bottles. Here, take these, and grab those towels.”

Handing him two bowls she pointed to the towels sitting on the table. Still paying him no mind she walked into the front room and returned with a sewing basket. Looking to him she asked, “Well, where’s the whisky?” Nodding his head, Tommy moved in the direction of his office.

As he headed toward his office he heard Polly shouting, “What in the fuck do you all think you’re looking at? Eh?” Looking up Tommy finally realised that all movement, conversation, and betting had stopped inside the shop. There were about 20 men standing still, all watching them intently.

Moving to him Polly took the dishes and rags out of his arms and started up the stairs, “Get everyone out of here Tommy. Close up shop, and we’ll deal with business tomorrow. Grab that whisky and get your ass upstairs.”

Turning to his audience he announced, “Alright lads, you heard the lady, finish your business and make your way home. The shop is closing.” Walking into his off for the bottles of whisky, Scudboat followed in after him. “What’s going on Tom? We all heard that scream a few minutes ago. Nobody’s said a word since and they’ve all been standing there watching Polly.”

Grabbing two bottles from his desk drawer he responded, “If you’d believe it, I have absolutely no idea what is going on up there. But it looks like Polly’s on a path, and it’s best to either get on board or get outta the way. I’m already on board, mate. You best be moving along.” Scudboat laughed, “You want me to lock up?”

Nodding at him Tommy instructed, “Check all the doors in both houses, we don’t need anybody robbing us blind.” Grabbing his keys, Scudboat moved to follow orders and Tommy made his way up the stairs, passing Arthur on the way out. “Where you going?” Without looking back, Arthur responded, “I did me part up there, I got a meeting across town.” Tommy knew it was their father. Arthur was meeting with that son of a bitch, and he knew the man would end up disappointing his brother. Putting it out of his mind Tommy continued his way upstairs. There were clearly more important things at hand.

#peaky blinders #peaky sister #shelby sister #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #peaky blinders oc #polly gray #Charlotte Shelby

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sylvie-writes · 4 years

Text

“Funny Seeing You Here.”

a/n: inspired by this tweet I saw: I’m in Target rn and i just overheard a woman tell her daughter. “Come on baby. Daddy will be home around 8:30 and we have to beat him there to hide all the clothes we are buying.” @saradesdinn on Twitter.

another a/n: also, you all are gonna see a lot more of Aurora. For some more background, read Dumbfounded Drew where the reader tells Andy they are expecting!

Freedom at last, you happily waved goodbye to all of your coworkers who were just as equally as glad to see gone. It was Friday, meaning you’d be able to be free from their irritating and fatuous gossip for the next two days. Half of the time, while you’d be diligently working at your desk, they’d be sitting around, picking their nails and loudly yap about whomever they pleased.

Once in your car, you quickly called your nephew who babysat your daughter, Aurora, for you since you’d gone back to work. Fresh outta high school, your nephew gladly took the opportunity since it meant he’d earn some money.

You arrived home in no time. Unlocking the door, you were greeted with the sight of your nephew playing with Aurora. With a giggle you came over to hug him, the young man smiling at you with a light tint to his cheeks.

“Thanks again for babysitting her, Ethan. It means a lot to me and your uncle.”

Digging in your purse, you fished out your wallet along with a check you had prepared for Ethan. You handed him the piece of paper with a bright smile as his jaw dropped.

“Aunt (y/n), I can’t accept this. We agreed on less than this. I won’t take it.”

Ethan stood in his place, holding out the check for you to take back. Shaking your head, you pushed his outstretched hand.

“Nonsense, you do a lot for us and you deserve this. Now go on! It’s Friday, have some fun!”

The young man laughed and accepted the check. You gave him a quick hug and he then walked himself to the door.

Once Ethan left, you turned to the floor where Aurora sat, chewing on some rubber toy you had gotten her.

“Hi sweetie! What do you say about a girl’s trip with mommy?”

You bounced Aurora on your hip and she grabbed at your hair, a large smile on her chubby little face.

“I’ll take that as a yes, Miss. Ro.”

With that, you grabbed Ro’s baby bag and brought her to your car.

Once you parked at the mall, you unstrapped Aurora from her seat and then adjusted her in the baby carrier that you had bonded across your chest.

With Aurora secure, you placed a soft kiss on her head and then grabbed your purse from the car.

Inside the mall, you went to the first department store in sight which happened to be a Macy’s. Rarely did you ever buy anything when you went on these spontaneous shopping trips. They were more of just window shopping trips to be honest.

After a few minutes of walking around, you caught sight of the most beautiful blouse you think you’ve seen in your life. Picking it up, the temptation to buy the dang thing grew stronger and stronger.

“One little blouse won’t hurt. Right, babe?”

You peered down to see Aurora asleep, as if you had actually expected an answer from the baby.

Oh how wrong you were.

From there, everything went downhill pretty fast and you ended up buying a bunch of clothes for Aurora and then a pair of shoes for yourself. Yes, you bought more things for the baby, but that’s how it worked now. You enjoyed spoiling Aurora, especially with her being your first born and all.

By time you were in line, you hadn’t even realized you’d picked up so many things. Instead of worrying, you just shrugged it off and whispered to Ro who had finally woken up.

“We better hurry up, sweetie. Your daddy should be getting off soon and we need to get home in time to hide all of our shi—-stuff.”

You softly laughed at your slip up and pecked Ro’s kissable baby forehead once more.

Leaning up, you peeked around the woman in front of you to see how many more people were in line. As you did so, a man in a suit turned to leave from his place checking out at the register. The handsome man turned his head in your direction, revealing two cerulean orbs that locked with yours. In shock, your eyes widened and said man started to strut over in your direction, heavily chuckling.

“Andy! What are you doing here?!”

You were caught in the act, your husband couldn’t stop laughing as you attempted to hide the many items and ultimately ended up miserably failing.

Andy held up the small plastic bag in his hand, slowly pulling out a box.

“Well, it was going to be a surprise, but I guess it’s kinda ruined now.”

He frowned for a short second and then immediately contorted his lips back into a beautiful smile. Taking the small box in one hand, Andy removed the lid to reveal a white gold band encrusted with microscopic gems that seemed to be diamonds.

By now, you had stepped out of line and brought your hands to your face in shock.

Andy tugged your left hand from your face and gently held it in his own. As he had done so many times before, Andy slipped on the ring, stopping just above your wedding band.

“I figured I’d get you a little something to remember when our precious Ro was born.”

You smiled at your husband and pulled his tie, bringing him closer to you, all while being mindful of Aurora who was still strapped in the carrier on your chest.

Without second thought, you sweetly kissed his lips for a long moment in time.

Against his plush, pink lips, you spoke up, “What did I do to deserve you, Drew?”

The man sighed, “Oh honey, I ask myself the same thing about you and Ro, every day.”

The two of you were oblivious to the many staring people, but just carried on.

Eventually detaching yourself from Andy’s lips, your husband offered to take Aurora while you went to go checkout. Yes, you were still going to buy those things.

Just as you walked away, you saw Andy strolling around the store, Aurora strapped to his chest as he maneuvered her pudgy little arms to wave at the people who smiled at her. With a small giggle, you turned away from the sight, relishing in a blissful sigh at the thought of your wonderful family.

#sylvie’s queued post #andy barber x reader #Chris Evans x reader

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trashmenofmarvel · 4 years

Text

Branded - Chapter 22

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Putting aside your doubts and trepidation, you finally show Bucky how you really feel.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by @araniaart . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Alcohol use, explicit sexual content with a non-human entity

AO3

Operation: Seduce Bucky Barnes… had stalled.

There you’d been, standing in the snowfield, bathed in moonlight like a scene straight out of a romance. He’d been right there, shirtless and too unbelievably gorgeous to be real.

It was The Moment you were looking for. The one for heartfelt confessions and hasty, frantic kisses that had been building up for weeks.

And you froze. Completely and utterly froze.

What if Bucky was only being nice? you asked yourself. Maybe he was trying to make an effort to be friendlier and you were completely misreading his intentions.

By the time your frantic thoughts had been corralled back where they belonged, it was too late. Bucky had taken back his shirt with a small, sheepish expression, and replaced his clothing and guise, looking as if he hadn’t been flying a hundred feet in the air with you moments before.

The reason the opportunity had passed right over your head? You were still too afraid of what would happen if Bucky rejected you. The tenuous not-knowing how he truly felt about you was almost preferable to having an answer that would be devastating.

But that wasn’t what this was supposed to be about. It was about Bucky, about making him feel appreciated and wanted and loved. If that’s not what he wanted from you, then… at least you’d know. Even if it killed you a little more every time the bond had to be sated.

So: the mission was still on, but you needed some serious help, and this help happened to come in the form of rum-spiked egg nog. The whole family was participating, even Bucky; it was the perfect opportunity to get inebriated just enough to smother your cowardly doubts.

Which was how you wound up on the couch, legs draped across Bucky’s lap as you sipped on your drink. One by one, your mom, aunt, and uncle headed off to bed, leaving the two of you alone in front of the small lit fireplace.

The room was dark aside from the flickering flames, filling the room with a sleepy kind of coziness that made one want to cuddle up to something warm. It would have been perfect, only you were slightly too inebriated for grand romantic gestures, and also, Bucky was too comfy and you didn’t want to ruin the moment.

So you just laid there, eyes closed, until a hand took the mostly empty glass out from your fingers before you could drop it on the carpet. You opened your eyes and smiled sleepily, snuggling deeper into the cushions.

“That stuff do anything for you?” You pointed your chin at the glass in his own hand. Bucky softly snorted.

“No.”

“Shame.”

He finished off the rest of his glass, not even wincing at the burn of the alcohol. Or maybe there wasn’t much in it. You’d definitely made yours on the strong side.

“Still like the taste,” he remarked, smiling a little. “Reminds me of Christmas when I was a kid.”

You gasped and held a hand to your chest.

“They let you kids drink alcohol?”

Bucky released another snort and leaned back further into the back of the couch, setting a large hand on your shin. He traced the side of your calf with a warm thumb. It felt very, very nice.

“Guess you’ve never heard of a hot toddy before.”

The teasing smirk on his lips made you want to reach for your glass of eggnog and drown it in one go. Bucky was way too pretty to be in your life, let alone your house. How the hell was this your life?

You turned back to his comment and scrunched your face in concentration, trying to recall the phrase, and also trying to decide if he was fucking with you about having booze as a kid.

“Hot whiskey, honey, and water,” he supplied helpfully, still smirking at you sinfully. “Sometimes sugar or spice if Ma could get it. Gave it to us when we were sick and… I could swear it worked.”

He had a far-off expression as he spoke, the teasing smile turning into something more fond and wistful.

You propped yourself up on one elbow so you could get a better view of his face. To make sure you weren’t crossing any lines with your questions, of course.

“What were they like? Your family?”

Bucky’s gaze dropped to the carpet, and for a moment you thought your question would go unanswered and if you’d made a mistake by asking. But then he began to speak, about his mother and father, and more fondly, about his younger sister Rebecca. How much he missed her, and that while she had passed away years ago, she’d been survived by her adult children. Bucky had nieces and nephews he’d never met, who didn’t even know he was still alive.

When you suggested meeting them someday, he shook his head quickly, a dark pall over his expression.

“It wouldn’t be safe. HYDRA was around hundreds of years, I can’t believe they’re gone now. Even if they were, I’m still… It would be better if they believed I’d died a long time ago. Better for them to never know that demons are real and their uncle is one of them.”

You frowned, not understanding. Hadn’t your life gotten immeasurably better since Bucky had been in it? Sure, there was the terrifying, almost-dying parts, but… everything else more than made up for it. But how to get Bucky to see what you saw?

You’d said all the right words to him. Your relationship had definitely improved, but it wasn’t enough. Words weren’t going to cut it.

Taking a slow breath, you sat up and pulled your legs off Bucky’s lap, curling them beneath you. He snapped out of his dour brooding to give you a look, one brow raised.

“I want to see you,” you said.

The eyebrow rose higher on his forehead.

“Everyone’s asleep.” You lowered your voice, softer. “Let me see you.”

Bucky’s close scrutiny caused the warmth under your skin to turn into a flush, but you weren’t going to back down. The alcohol had made you bold, or maybe it was the impatience.

You waited, unyielding, and eventually the tension in his shoulders loosened. The guise melted away, shimmering in the air like a mirage, revealing everything that Bucky tried to hide but you could only love.

He removed his jacket, exposing the black t-shirt that hugged his chest unfairly, but he didn’t spread his wings, leaving them drawn up against his back. When Bucky set his jacket on the end of the couch, you leaned forward, one hand outstretched, but you paused before it could make contact.

“Can I… touch you?”

His eyes darted between your hand and your face, appearing dubious about the thing you wanted to touch seeing as your fingers were inches from one swept-back horn, but eventually he nodded.

“Like I said,” he murmured, “you can touch me whenever you want.”

His eyes were dark, voice so low it was gravelly, and the monkey part of your brain screeched danger! danger! at the presence of what was clearly an apex predator.

You’d never been one for self-preservation, though.

Your fingers touched the edge of the horn closest to you. You’d always liked them. They were rigid and angled backwards but slightly up, like an especially annoyed cat. The texture was hard but lightly spiraled, and interesting pattern that you traced up to the tip.

Bucky had gone very still, watching you out of the corner of one eye as he barely breathed.

“Can you feel this?” You continued to stroke along the horn, marveling at the pattern you’d somehow never noticed before.

“Not really.” His voice was as stiff as his posture. “I can sense the vibrations your fingers are causing, but I can’t feel it directly.”

“Mmm,” you hummed thoughtfully as you continued your journey downward until you reached the soft strands of his hair. When you pressed them against his scalp, Bucky shuddered, and you paused.

“Is this okay?”

Bucky made a small noise that turned into his clearing his throat.

“It’s-it’s fine.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“It’s fine, I mean it.”

“All right.”

You sounded pretty damn steady for someone who was internally going oh fuck, he feels nice, oh shit, he smells nice too. As many times as you’d been physically close with Bucky, you’d never really been intimate. Getting to actually touch him just for the sake of touching him, and not as it being a byproduct of the feeding, was… so much different.

There was warmth in your stomach that had nothing to do with alcohol as you gently massaged the crown of his head with your fingers. Bucky’s eyelids fluttered, gaze losing focus as you continued to knead little circles into his scalp.

How long had it been since he was touched like this? It had been a long time for you, but it could have been decades for him.

When his expression was blissful and his posture more lax, you moved to the other side of his head towards the ear facing away from you.

“What about these?” You barely touched a tapered ear when Bucky gave a full-body shudder.

“Those are… more sensitive.”

A complete understatement judging by the way the plates on his arm shifted and his tail wrapped around your thigh. He must not have known what it was doing because he didn’t look down. It was fascinating something as simple as rubbing his ear made him react so strongly.

You leaned over him, chest pressing against the bared armor plates of his shoulder, right over the carved pentagram. You weren’t trying to be seductive or coy; you were leaning on him for balance as you moved your hand down the back of his head. Your plan had been to keep going until you got to the shell of his folded wings.

But the noise he made when your fingertips brushed against his nape, it was unmistakably a sharp, strangled moan. You gave another experimental run of your fingers up the back of his neck, and Bucky shuddered again. Your gut coiled with unexpected heat at his hair-trigger responses.

Holy fuck.

Steeling your nerves, you swung your leg over his, placing yourself firmly on his lap. There was still some space between you as you were perched on his thighs, but not much. His body heat at this distance was practically blazing, but you focused kneading your hands along the bunched muscles of his shoulders.

“What… are you doing?” His voice was strangled, blue eyes wide.

“Touching you.”

Bucky sighed and gently took your wrists and drew them forward, holding them in his claw-tipped hands.

“No, what are you doing?”

You didn’t know what answer to offer him, one that would fit into words, so you met his questioning gaze as he held your wrists. An impasse.

Moving your hands forward, he blinked and let you go, eyes locked onto your face as you carefully, gently cupped his face in your palms. The stubble tickled against your skin, but he was so warm. Real. Alive.

His eyes widened in surprise as you stroked your thumbs against his cheeks. You savored every small change in his features as he tried to figure you out when you yourself had no solid plan yourself. There was only you and Bucky, and this was how you always wanted it to be.

You leaned down, slowly as to give him time to pull away, and hovered over his lips.

He didn’t move an inch, his breath stilled in his chest as he waited for your next move.

You crossed the small distance left between you, pressing your lips to his so lightly that you almost couldn’t feel it. Just a light pressure, faint warmth and unbelievable softness.

At Bucky’s lack of response, you pulled away. He was completely locked up under you, still not breathing, and when you opened your eyes he was staring without blinking.

Doubt sat heavy in your stomach. Should you have done this? What if it wasn’t what he wanted? What if he didn’t want you?

There was no mistaking your feelings now; he would have to reject them, and every time you fulfilled the bond it was going to slowly destroy you.

You shouldn’t have kissed him, shouldn’t have thought up this stupid, stupid plan—

Arms looped around your back and pulled you forward, slotting you against Bucky’s torso as he cradled the back of your head. His lips were on yours in an instant, demanding and hard.

A fire ignited low in your belly, one that had nothing to do with the mark on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck, drawing your thighs tighter around his waist as you opened your mouth to him. He took the invitation immediately, delving his tongue inside as he curled his claws into your hair.

Bucky lifted you both from the couch and you clung tighter to him so you wouldn’t fall, but he held you securely, lips never leaving yours as he somehow navigated the stairs to the second floor.

You’d expected Bucky to place you on the bed, but instead he set you down in the middle of your old bedroom. When he broke the kiss and stood back, you tried to chase his lips while making a noise of frustration.

Bucky gave a crooked grin that showed he knew exactly what he was doing to you, evidenced by the way he pulled off his shirt, leaving him bare-chested.

You were torn between wanting to undress yourself and needing to touch him. You settled for clumsily stripping off your shirt and immediately returning your hands to his chest, fingers mapping over the hardened muscles and stopping at the scared edge of his left shoulder.

Bucky’s smile faded and he parted his lips to say something, but you ran your fingers over the scars, gentle over the rough skin. Skin you hadn’t realized until now looked like claw marks, as if someone had tried to tear the limb off.

Your heart ached as you continued on to trace your fingers over the grooved edges of his plates. They shifted restlessly under your touch, much like the demon himself as he shuffled on his clawed feet.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked quietly.

Are you sure I’m who you want?

Even now, he was giving you an out. Not understanding you’d made your choice a long time ago.

You leaned against him and pressed your lips against where scarred flesh met hardened carapace. You kissed all the way down to his mark, a mirror image of your own, in answer to his question.

Evidently, it was enough to finally break through whatever doubts were still holding Bucky back. In one swift movement, he unclipped your bra and pulled it off your shoulders, forcing your hands to drop from his shoulders. He quickly replaced them, not on his chest but on his belt buckle.

The fire in your gut reignited, different from how it usually was. Even though you only had a couple days left until Bucky would need to feed again, your mark lay dormant and painless. Everything your body was doing right now was a hundred percent you. Which meant you were slightly awkward, flustered, and flushed.

You fumbled at Bucky’s belt, finger shaking as he chuckled against the bare skin of your shoulder. It was the only warning you got before he pressed his lips against the side of your neck, and you had to struggle to pull the belt from its loops as your knees trembled.

Damn demon didn’t even seem bothered as his hands roamed over your waist and back. It was completely unfair.

Once you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, you got your revenge by sliding your hand inside and grasping a hand around his—oh, fuck, you’d forgotten how massive and not-human his cock was.

A deep growl rumbled in his chest as he quickly tugged off your pants and underwear, his movements still controlled but just on the edge of it. He yanked off his jeans and picked you up, laying you gently on the bed before you could flounder at the loss of balance.

You stared up at him, already panting as you clutched onto his shoulders, hips wriggling to search for some kind of friction against your aching heat. Bucky hovered just above you, thighs spreading your legs as he knelt between them, pupils blown but brows pulled at an uncertain angle.

Frustrated and impatient, you wrapped your legs around his waist. Something curled around your ankle and you grinned; at least one part of Bucky was fully onboard.

You opened your mouth, to say what you weren’t sure, but you never got the chance. His mouth closed over yours, tongue licking at the seam of your lips, and you groaned and opened them willingly.

The drag of his cock against your abdomen was pure torture, and no matter how much you tilted your hips upwards to rub against it, Bucky wouldn’t push inside. He was teasing you.

It was a wonderful torture, your body writhing every time the strange ridges of his cock dragged along your folds. You desperately rutted against him, but everything Bucky denied between your legs he gave to your mouth, kissing in a way that was obscene and filthy. You’d known his tongue was long and dexterous, but it was like he was fucking your mouth, tongue pushing in and out as it coiled around your own.

“Bucky, please,” you groaned when he finally let you come up for air. He trailed kisses down your jaw to your neck, lapping at you with that sinfully long tongue.

You rolled your hips to make your point, whimpering when one of the soft ridges passed right over your clit. Bucky wasn’t unaffected, either. His breathing was hitched and uneven, and precum was smeared all over your stomach.

Without even thinking, you scooped up some of the mess on your finger and popped it in your mouth, closing your eyes to focus on the unique taste. Slightly salty but distinctly Bucky.

When you opened your eyes, Bucky was staring, mouth slightly agape. You quickly removed your finger, face heating, but Bucky didn’t let you stew in your embarrassment.

He kissed you hard, tongue licking into your mouth to taste himself as he put one arm under your hips. Completely unprepared as the tapered head of his cock pushed past your folds and opened you up.

You cried out against his lips, clutching his shoulders tightly as he continued to push, stretching you impossibly wide as you took every inch of him.

Bucky broke the kiss when you made another overwhelmed noise, his breathing uneven and hitched, voice strained.

“Are you… did I…”

“I’m fine.” You gave a quiet, breathless laugh. “Did I ever… tell you… how insanely huge you are? F…fucking… feels like I’m being… murdered.”

Bucky’s eyes rounded in horror, and this time, you giggled, wincing as you tightened around him. Terrible idea, because it also felt really good, and now you were rolling your hips against him again.

“Please, don’t stop. I’m only half-kidding,” you gasped out when you could breathe again. Bucky made a choked noise and buried his face against your neck, groaning.

“You can’t just… say things like that.”

“Why. Is it hot?”

“Fuck.”

Bucky gripped your hip tightly as he started to ground down against you, testing his shallow thrusts. You tried to stay quiet because there were still people in the house, but at least there was a bathroom between your room and the others. There was no way you were going to stay silent, not with Bucky’s perfect cock splitting you open.

When he began to move, all you could do was bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming. It shouldn’t have been possible for anyone to take a cock of that size, yet you did. It didn’t hurt, but each thrust was overwhelming. A jolt of pleasure accompanied each one, your heart thudding wildly as you gradually tightened around him.

Bucky placed desperate kisses along your neck as if starved for it, each powerful move of his hips driving him deeper. Something tore next to your head, his claws ripping a hole in the pillows. You didn’t care, drowning in the scent and sound and feel of Bucky to mind the state of your bed.

Your legs trembled, nails digging harmlessly against the hardened base of his wings. They were open now, curled over you both. Possessive and shielding.

“B-Bucky… I…”

You whimpered pitifully as he kissed along your jaw with that same fevered need.

“I know, I know, it’s okay.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and whined, so close to the edge it was maddening.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

You wailed before your voice cut out altogether, unable to breathe as your body tensed around him.

Bucky groaned and fucked you through the orgasm, murmuring assurances and praise. You were barely coherent, your body squeezing him as if trying to milk him dry.

His hips stuttered and he followed you soon after with a sharp cry, muffled as he buried his face in your hair. You could sense the actual pull of energy, flowing through your body as you fed him, and it made for an unearthly orgasm.

You winced as you still pulsed around him, quickly growing oversensitive, but Bucky had stopped moving and laid on top of you. You half-expected him to get off you and regret what he had done.

Instead, he turned his head and kissed you on the temple. You huffed a quiet laugh, pulling an unexpected smile from you.

“What’s so funny?” he mumbled, sounding completely blissed out as he nudged the side of your cheek with his nose.

“You.” Rubbing your hands up and down his back, you reveled in his closeness, practically drunk on it. “I… wanted to do this for a long time.”

“Me too.”

You groaned in complaint when he finally moved off of you. He wasn’t gone for long, returning with a warm, damp hand towel from the bathroom. You really hoped Mom wouldn’t a buck-ass naked demon in the hallway.

As he cleaned you up, so gently that you wanted to cover your face with your hands, you asked, “What do you mean, me too?”

Bucky sighed, set the cloth aside, and got back into bed. He pulled the covers over you both and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

“I meant I should have done that sooner,” he said. “I wanted to. I just didn’t know if you…”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I was in the same boat.”

Bucky chuckled, breath tickling your scalp.

“We really need to work on the whole communication thing better.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Although.” He rubbed your back. “We seem to communicate fine when we’re naked.”

You groaned against his chest. Bucky was not allowed to have a dirty sense of humor. It would be the death of you.

“Am I wrong?”

“I have nothing to say,” you muttered, your grumpiness undermined when you snuggled against him. “Nothing at all.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead. You really, really hoped the kisses and easy touches would be standard from now on. He was spoiling you, and you didn’t know how you’d survive without them now.

“We should… probably talk about this later,” he said in a softer tone. “After we get some sleep.”

You huffed. Even if you agreed you should talk more, you didn’t want to. Couldn’t you just be a couple? Why’d it have to be more complicated than that?

“I’m sure your family will want to be up early tomorrow,” Bucky added thoughtfully.

You frowned, brain churning slowly, and then your eyes went wide.

“Shit. I forgot it was Christmas again.”

“Was it that good?”

“Bucky!”

He showed mercy after you buried your face in the pillow, squeezing you tightly and petting your hair with a chuckle. He was quickly forgiven. A part of you still couldn’t believe this was real, it had finally happened, and Bucky hadn’t run away. You hadn’t run away.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair.

Your breath caught in your throat, a lump forming. Everything was going to be fine, you would sort things out later. All that mattered was you had this moment with Bucky. Hard-fought and won.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you said, and snuggled up to your demon as you finally drifted off to sleep.

Next Chapter

#demon!bucky #bucky x reader #demon!bucky x reader #demon!bucky barnes #branded #my writing #my fanfiction

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firelordzukohere · 4 years

Text

Interior Decor

Hello! I started this blog because I wrote a Zuko x Reader fanfiction and I wanted somewhere to post it that wasn’t my main blog.

I came up with the idea for this fic randomly one day and I thought I’d write it down and share it with you all. It’s going to be 4 parts with a possible epilogue, but I’m not sure yet. Please let me know what you think!!

I’ll be updating every Sunday with a new chapter! Hopefully you guys really like this and keep reading!!

I’ve also posted it to AO3 if you’d prefer to read it there

Thanks!

Zuko X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Aangst(heh), and some implications

Word Count: Almost 3k

Summary: Iroh felt it was time for the Palace to reflect the time of Peace and Love that Zuko promised five years earlier at his coronation. He takes it upon himself to hire an interior decorator to help his nephew out and work together. What he didn’t expect was for Zuko to possibly find his own peace and love in the process.

Chapter 1: Feng Shui >> Chapter 2: Tchotchke

Walking into the grand entrance of the Fire Nation Palace, (Y/N) couldn't help but stop and begin mentally jotting down the changes she would make to the décor. It was very dingy, dark, and drab, as though the Palace had been sitting in it's own dusty iceberg for a hundred years, keeping it's hatred preserved with each speck of dirt. The windows were covered in black-out fabric, the walls had pictures of past Fire Lords glaring down at those who dared to enter their sacred home of destruction, plants wilted and dead, no life left within them, and the carpet looked as though it had seen millions upon millions of feet within its lifetime.

Now, (Y/N) wasn't trying to be rude, but it was her job to notice these things. She had been hired by General Iroh to redo the interior of the Fire Nation Palace. This meant every single room from the throne room to the dining hall, the ballroom to the Fire Lord's private quarters, everything needed a refresh. She expected this kind of thing to be done back when the Fire Lord had first taken over, however, her services weren't requested until five years after his coronation.

Which is why she stood at the entrance, questioning why it took them so long to get someone in here. The poor Palace staff and the Fire Lord must be drowning in darkness and discomfort. Not to mention cowering in fear at Sozin, Azulon, and Ozai's deep glares within several portraits throughout.

She was busy having a staring contest with Ozai, which she was undoubtedly losing because he was terrifying to look at, when Iroh walked up and greeted her with a warm smile. The look immediately lit the room up, sending a comforting feeling from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes as if she had just dipped herself into the warm ocean to cool off.

"Ah! Miss (Y/N), thank you for your patience," he bowed causing her to return the sign of respect back, "I was just making sure my nephew was ready for our meeting today as well. He's just finishing up with the council, so we'll go on ahead without him and he can catch up," the older man winked before guiding her further into the Palace, "Please, tell me what you think so far, first impressions may not always be accurate, but they do tell quite a lot, especially when it comes to decoration," Iroh said as they walked.

Clearing her throat, (Y/N) tuned into her interior decorator mode. "I feel like I'm living in the Fire Palace from Sozin's time," she said, bluntly, however still with a hint of hope. "I feel like this Palace has most likely been causing the Fire Lord nothing but stress, as though it's a dark cloud looming over his head, watching his every move, almost like Ozai never left." Her voice calm and diplomatic, she had dealt with several Fire Nation officials before and no matter how often she tried to soften the blow, she was usually always dealt with backlash and anger over her honest opinion of the look.

Iroh, however, surprised her, and laughed with his whole body, resting his hands on his stomach for a moment, stopping their stride. "My dear, you are spot on!" This immediately caused (Y/N) to smile brightly, grateful that she was with a client who didn't seem to want to fight her every move. "Even when Ozai and I were boys growing up in the Palace here, we always felt as though we were living during Sozin's reign. Not that we believed that to be a bad thing at the time," he chuckled before continuing on down the hall.

The hallway led into the throne room, which was one of the biggest rooms in the Palace according to the layout that Iroh had given her during her interview with him. The only other room that was as large was the ballroom followed closely by the dining hall.

"This is where my nephew holds council with everyone in all four nations, whoever wants a seat with him. My brother, father, and grandfather stopped using it for that purpose and just became a place to dish out their royal decrees, banishing visitors that were not worthy." (Y/N) frowned listening to the history of this room. "My nephew likes this room to be where he listens and does very little talking, which I think is a wonderful sentiment to have." She nodded and began jotting down notes on her parchment.

There needed to be more light, some greenery added to liven up the place, possibly a little less fire around the throne itself, to seem more welcoming. Overall, the layout of the room was beautiful, it just needed some acceptance instead of deterrence.

Iroh led her toward the next room which appeared to be the ballroom. It was gorgeous, high ceilings with chandeliers, ready for their candles to be lit and make the glass sparkle, tall windows that went nearly from the floor to the ceiling providing a glorious view of the garden outside. Other than a couple of touch ups here and there, this room was incredible. However, it looked like it hadn't been used in centuries. Webs and dust littered the vast room, sheets covered small tables and seating areas and were yellowed with age.

"When my father took power, dancing and parties became nonexistent. He loathed people enjoying themselves, obviously because he did not. My nephew would like to throw a celebration after this redecoration, allowing all nations to come together and dance." Iroh smiled.

"Obviously it was more of a strong suggestion by the Dragon of the West, who rumor has it, excelled in dancing due to his bond with the dragons," a husky voice behind them added, causing the two to turn and find the Fire Lord standing behind them in his royal attire, with a small smirk on his face.

(Y/N) had seen beautiful interiors, gorgeous landscapes, sunsets, flowers, paintings, structures, and everything in between, however, her breath left her body the moment her eyes landed on the Fire Lord in person. He was a very handsome man, defined features and golden eyes that pierced any girl's heart.

This admiration, unfortunately, caused her to stare at him longer than normal, creating an awkward tension within the room. Beside her, Iroh cleared his throat, waking the girl from her trance on his nephew. She blushed furiously and bowed properly to the Fire Lord.

"Your Highness, my apologies, I wasn't expecting you this early," she whispered quickly attempting to cover her ogling with a valid reason, "I'm grateful that you have allowed me the opportunity to work on your home and make it something that you'll enjoy living within and celebrating for years to come." He smiled at her before turning to Iroh.

"It wasn't exactly my plan, as I said, the Dragon of the West is a very convincing man and deemed it necessary that since I was bringing a time of new, the Palace should reflect that." Iroh smirked.

"Please Fire Lord Zuko," Iroh said with a hint of snark in his voice, "I just couldn't bear to see you glare at the paintings of your father strewn everywhere and decided it was a time for change." Zuko blushed and sent a small glare at Iroh. "Plus, you're never going to woo any ladies with a Palace looking like this!" His statement caused (Y/N) to cover her mouth quickly and let out a giggle. Hearing the noise from her, Zuko's face burned darker, matching the Fire Nation red of his robes. "Anyway, my dear nephew, I must leave you at this time, you see it's nearly noon and I have a Pai Sho game to play with an old friend," he stepped back and bowed to both his nephew and (Y/N). "I'm sure you can take care of the rest of the tour and inform her on any changes you'd like. She's brilliant and really knows what she's doing so take everything she has to offer into account."

"Wait, you're not staying?" (Y/N) stopped him, nervously. Iroh smiled and shook his head.

"This isn't my home, it's his, he should be first hand in working with you. You're both smart and will definitely come up with something great together." Zuko's eyes were daggers as he looked at his Uncle. Iroh merely smirked before stepping away and back down the hallway she had originally met him in.

"I apologize for my Uncle, he's… eccentric, to say the least," the Fire Lord said with a frown. "I guess we should move on with the tour," he mumbled awkwardly before shuffling toward the room after the ballroom. The dining hall.

They traveled through the dining hall, the council chambers-as Zuko refused to call it the war room anymore, the spa rooms, a few bedrooms though they all looked the same according to the Fire Lord, several various hallways, where they finally ended, his bedroom.

(Y/N) had filled several parchments with notes and ideas for the Palace. She was already growing excited about the new plans and was ready to bring some life back into the Fire Nation's symbolic building.

"Not much needs to be done in here, to be honest, I don't use it for anything other than a place to sleep," he grumbled as he had essentially the entire tour. After Iroh had left, Zuko seemed unenthusiastic about showing her around and even less excited about her decorating anything.

"With all do respect, your Highness," she started, unable to bite her tongue this time, as she had the previous dozen times he said that he didn't need much done to the room, "that's a problem. Your bedroom should be a safe haven where you go to escape, especially with your job," her (Y/E/C) eyes narrowed in his direction, attempting to convey her seriousness about the situation. "This room is a comfort to you, not a grave to your father's previous sins." His single eyebrow cocked.

"With all do respect Miss…" it was then he realized he didn't know her name. Iroh had handled all the details, Zuko simply nodded his head and did as his uncle said.

"(Y/N)," she whispered somewhat defensively, ready for his retort.

"(Y/N)…" he repeated, "I have an escape in the Palace, though it may not be my bedroom like it seems to be for several of your clients, I can assure you, I'm not like them." He began to walk out of the bedroom, stopping only to turn back at her and nudge his head, signaling her to follow.

Confused, the decorator followed him back toward the ballroom and out into the garden. This view had caught her eye earlier when she was first in the ballroom with Iroh and now, finally getting a thorough look, she couldn't help but stare at the area in awe.

A large tree sat in the center of the zen place, a tiny pond full of quacking turtle ducks swimming happily within. Several other trees and flower bushes littered the area, with small fountains and statues around. It was serene and tranquil, calm seemed to wash over her instantly as she took in her surroundings, admiring the wonderful atmosphere that the garden provided.

Zuko led her toward the pond where he crouched down to rub the head of one of the turtle ducks with the back of his index finger. The duckling quacked and nuzzled closer to his touch instinctively. As the other turtle ducks saw this, they began swimming toward, looking for their own affection from the Fire Lord as well.

(Y/N) couldn't help but stare at the interaction before her, amazed at how the Fire Lord's demeanor changed rapidly. He seemed at peace and happy in this moment just spending time with ducklings in the garden.

"You see, miss (Y/N), while others escape to their bedrooms, I find myself coming here where I can be calm with my thoughts," he smirked up at her as he pat the last turtle duck on the head and then straightened up. With a sigh, she nodded her head, understanding what he meant now. "I do, however, agree, that my room needs more of a makeover than I initially suggested. You're welcome to do with it as you will, just make sure my belongings are taken care of properly." She looked up at him hopeful that he was okay with her being there.

Smiling, she moved toward the tree next to the pond and plopped down. It wasn't quite as ladylike as Zuko expected, like he had witnessed his mother, Mai, Azula, and Ty Lee do, but he couldn't help but smile and follow her lead, sitting down beside her. As she began handing him papers with notes, he watched as she animatedly talked about what she was going to do with each room and how it was supposed to make him feel more comfortable.

"For a Nation about light and the sun, your Palace has very little of it," she started, pointing at sketches she had apparently made as they walked of the different rooms, "I think removing the coverings on the windows and allowing more light to come in will be great. Plus, the sun makes Firebenders feel better, so why wouldn't they want more of it?" Zuko nodded, realizing that it made a lot of sense. "Then your people will be able to see you better instead of the dark shadow that Ozai assumingly was previous." Her casual use of his father's name seemed to shock him, but he didn't say anything and continued to listen. "If they see your face, they'll feel they can trust you more, you're not a bad man to look at either and that could possibly help you in the department General Iroh was requesting which was a new lady friend." She rushed through quickly.

Zuko held up his hand to stop her, "Contrary to what my uncle says, I don't need a woman to make me happy." He said, "I'm doing just fine all on my own." This caused her to stare at him for a few moments in deep thought and Zuko couldn't help but wonder what was going through her head. She seemed to be lost in herself for a moment before her vision returned and she realized she had been staring intently at the Fire Lord.

With a small shake of her head, she focused normally back on him, "I'm sorry, um… yes you're right, you don't need a woman, I was just trying to help." She mumbled before looking down at her papers awkwardly. Zuko handed her back the ones that he had been given and smiled.

"These look great (Y/N), why don't we start tomorrow on it? I will approve anything you want to do," he said trying to reassure the girl who had what felt like an emotional moment from his words.

"No, let me do this right, especially with the Palace. I will return with better sketches tomorrow and then if everything is approved I can bring in a team to start clearing out rooms. We'll do them one by one so you're not without the entire Palace for a couple of weeks," she said, watching as he stood up and held out his hand for her to take. Gently she pressed her palm to his and goosebumps ran up her arm at the shockingly warm contact. He smiled as he helped her to her feet, waiting several moments before leading her hand back to her side and slipping it from his grasp. "Thank you for this opportunity your Highness, you have no idea how excited I am to be able to help you feel like this is your home," she repeated her earlier sentiment with a long bow.

"Zuko," he said bluntly, causing her to look up at him from her bow. Her eyebrow cocked slightly and he couldn't help but smirk at the emotion written across her face. "Call me Zuko, none of this your Highness formality."

With reddened cheeks she smiled and nodded her head. He led her back into the ballroom and toward the entrance to the Palace. "Tomorrow then?" she asked as they reached the grand doorway.

"Tomorrow," he said, looking at her intently. "I'm interested to see what you bring me (Y/N)," he bowed to her.

She returned the bow with one final word for farewell, "Zuko." Her lips formed a smirk that Zuko couldn't stop his eyes from studying for as long as he could before she turned and made her way down the steps, internally wondering why this job made her feel all fuzzy inside.

I hope you guys liked it! Please let me know! Thanks!

Master List

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

Text

Strangers

Zuko x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2008 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader runs into Iroh off the beaten path and decides to help him find his nephew, the ever mysterious Zuko.

——————————————————————————————————

You had no idea what an old man like Iroh was doing out in the woods all alone, or why he was just sitting in the middle of the deserted rock land, but that didn’t mean anything. In order for you to question why he was there, you’d also have to question why you were there as well.

...And you didn’t really want to do that.

So instead, you decided to just enjoy the zen space that Iroh had created for himself. You two drank tea together, and talked about life and the things you were running from. After all, anyone traveling alone was surely running from something.

Although, Iroh made it clear that he wasn’t alone, not really. The way he told it, he was traveling with his nephew, who had lost his path somewhere along the way.

It was clear to you in the way that he spoke about him that this nephew of his was very important to Iroh, and that inspired you. See, you weren’t really looking for anyone or anything out here, but he was and perhaps you could help reunite them.

All things considered, no one knew these woods better than you did and if his nephew was out here, Iroh had the best chance of finding him with you by his side. Besides, you weren’t exactly busy right now anyway.

In any case, Iroh was happy for the company. For a young woman traveling alone, you had more spirit and care in your body than he was used to seeing in anyone nowadays. With the war surging on after so long, most people were cold toward others.

For good reason.

Though, you didn’t hesitate in striking up a conversation with him and for someone like Iroh, that meant something. Perhaps some of that positivity and freedom would liberate Zuko from the pain and fear that plagued him.

It would be worth seeing, if nothing else. You were a good person, and with as few of those as there were, Iroh also found himself wanting to take you up on your offer to ensure your own safety.

The two of you on the road together were bound to run into trouble at some point, but between the old general and you, any threat didn’t have a chance. If nothing else, it could present a good opportunity to prove that you shouldn’t be underestimated.

All things considered though, the decision had been made and you and Iroh were on the road without much more conversation. The more ground you could cover before sundown, the better. Iroh had no idea what kind of trouble Zuko could have gotten himself into in the time since they’d separated.

After all, trouble seemed to follow that boy like a hungry turtle duck with nothing else to do. It was drawn to him and nothing was going to change that.

...No one knew that better than his uncle did and he was sure that you’d find out soon enough.

“So, tell me about this nephew of yours? What is he running from? Surely he would want to stay with such delightful company if given the option” you hummed, walking alongside Iroh at the pace you two had established.

The stones crumbled beneath your feet with each step, with which you could feel the entire pulse of the land for miles in any direction. Any sort of attack was unlikely due to the vibrations it would cause, but you didn’t bother telling Iroh that.

Whatever it was that you two could run into, it would be fine. You were just much more interested in why he was out here in the blistering heat for someone who clearly didn’t care whether he was near or not.

Whoever his nephew was, he obviously didn’t understand what a gem of an uncle he had, or else he would have never left him in the first place.

Anything could have happened to him out here, from bandits to a stray sabertooth-moose-bear wandering too far from the forest. His life was in danger at all times, just like everyone else's was, but still, Iroh only sat completely content.

Someone as old as him had to know how dangerous the fire nation was, but you would have never known it from talking to him.

“He is lost, but I have faith that he will find his path in time. I have simply chosen to let him find his way on his own” he allowed, that same distance but loving look crossing his features at the mention of him.

His nephew was one lucky man, whoever he was, because Iroh clearly cared very much for him.

You only wished you had someone in your life that cared for you that much.

“I’m doing the same, in some ways” you tried, letting a second or two pass between you before continuing. You were really bearing your soul to a complete and total stranger but it felt okay.

Something about Iroh reminded you of your grandfather when he had been alive. It was comforting, and it made you realize how much you missed your family in the first place. It had been so long since you’d felt that way.

“My family was killed in a fire nation raid, and I guess I just never felt at home anywhere after that” you shrugged, not even phased as the words left your lips. It made you sad to think about but you weren’t the only one who had ever lost someone.

It was just a part of life, especially this close to Ba Sing Se, and it had been many years ago now. There was no point in mourning them everyday when you could live in their memory each day that passed.

It just felt like a much better use of your time.

Still, the words seemed to strike a chord with Iroh. He knew it was likely the war had affected you in some ways but he hadn’t thought about what that could mean when you found out the truth about who he was.

It likely wouldn't go over well when you found out that he and Zuko were actually fire nation. Though, that news could wait a little longer to come to the surface. It was much better for you to feel at home for your time together than to hate him completely.

After all, you seemed like a wonderful spirit and to break that so early would be a tragedy.

So, he only nodded casually as you spoke, knowing how hard it must have been for you to admit to a virtual stranger. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I believe everyone has lost much in this war. Personally, I lost my son to the front lines” he informed, trying to prove his point.

Talking about Lu Ten stung, but it was just the sort of thing Iroh knew needed to be out in the open. If you two were to be spending much time together over the course of this journey, it was better you knew something about one another.

...And to be fair, the journey you’d embarked on was nowhere near over.

The commotion of the battle between a large number of strangers could be heard over the hill where you and Iroh had been walking, and as soon as he heard it, the older man knew what it must have meant.

It was the kind of commotion that he’d only heard like that since taking in Zuko, and he knew that must have been what it was. However, the last thing he was expecting when he rounded the corner was Azula.

Somehow she must have been tracking them, and at some point ran into the avatar as well, which caused quite a bit of tension immediately.

...And you were caught in the middle of it.

Not that you really minded.

In the time that you had been traveling with Iroh since you met, you had grown pretty fond of the old man and if there was trouble, you weren’t going to let anything happen to him. Not to mention the fact that you found out pretty quickly that his nephew was in the middle of it all.

Apparently Iroh wasn’t kidding when he told you all about his nephew’s wild temper, which you were getting to see up close and personal.

You just had to hope he wasn’t so chaotic in casual conversation.

No one could be, right?

You were wrong.

You had been very clearly wrong about your assumptions regarding Iroh’s nephew. As soon as you found yourself sitting across from him, you could tell that he was just as he’d been described to you.

During the fight you had all been part of, Iroh had managed to take a strike of lightning which knocked him both off his feet and unconscious. Though, you weren’t too worried because he seemed to be alright.

It was just going to take him some time to recover.

However, his resting gave you a chance to get acquainted with his nephew, who you’d come to know as Zuko in the time you’d been sitting here. He was a complete and total stranger to you but you couldn’t help but feel like you knew him after all Iroh had told you.

“What are you doing here? How do you know my uncle?” he asked at first, giving you curious glances between looking at where Iroh was currently resting, sighing contently like a dreaming child.

His body wasn’t quite ready to get up but that was okay. The two of you were going to make sure that he was alright, no matter how long he chose to sit there.

“We met on the road, and he told me about his search for you and I decided to help him out” you shrugged, hoping that would be enough of a reason to justify why you hadn’t left yet.

If nothing else, you now had to make sure that Iroh was going to be okay.

You half expected Zuko to answer you with some sort of hesitance or dismissal but it never came. Instead, he nodded, thinking over what little information you had given him about yourself.

There wasn’t much to talk about between two people who had just met each other but you didn’t let that bother you. There were very few people you couldn’t bond with, at least a little bit, and Zuko was no exception.

“Iroh really loves you, you know that don’t you?” you hummed, brushing the older man’s hair from where it had fallen into his face, smiling at him as he rested.

You could tell that no one had ever loved Zuko as much as Iroh did, and in that same vein, you could tell that the male in front of you didn’t really realize that was the case.

But it wasn’t because he didn’t care.

Zuko cared about his uncle very much, but he didn’t understand anything much more than his own desires and the things that had happened to him that were less than happy.

He was miserable thinking about where he came from, his family, or the things in his past. However, you knew better than anyone that the past doesn't define you and you were determined to prove that to Zuko.

It was all you could do for him, even with the little comfort between the two of you.

“Of course I do. What kind of question is that?” he wondered, a little too quickly and aggressively for your taste. “It’s the kind of question you ask someone you just met, apparently” he grumbled, rolling his eyes at you.

…Moody much.

By this point, you were sure that Iroh’s description of Zuko had barely scratched the surface but you weren’t even bothered by it. In fact, it only increased your desire to get to know him better.

No one was that one sided, and you knew that if you dug a little deeper, you would get to know who he really was.

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isitgintimeyet · 5 years

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Road To The Aisles

AO3

Well, it’s not the weekend (well, it is for me!) but here’s the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it! thanks for all your support

Thanks as always to @mo-nighean-rouge @happytoobserve @wickedgoodbooks

Chapter 10: A Photographic Opportunity

“I'm no model lady. A model's just an imitation of the real thing.” Mae West

Silence filled the car as Jamie drove back to Glasgow. There was only the sound of the regular breathing from Claire, dozing in the passenger seat, and William, napping in the back. He didn’t mind this quiet. It gave him a chance to enjoy the passing scenery and also to process the previous few days.

It had been a most satisfying weekend - in every sense of the word. Jamie chuckled to himself. Claire was right… he did turn into a sex-crazed beast when he was at Lallybroch. Not that Claire seemed to object. In fact, she seemed more than willing to match his appetites, as the bite marks on his groin could bear witness to. It was fortunate that the walls and doors at Lallybroch were solid and practically soundproof with her apparent inability to remain quiet during sex. But that was part of the thrill to him -- when she cried his name, all restraint abandoned, her face contorted with pleasure -- it only made him want her more, made him harder than anyone else ever could…

As he felt his arousal begin, he took several slow, deep breaths and deliberately forced his mind away from images of his Sassenach and towards more neutral topics.

Aye, he always enjoyed his visits to Lallybroch but this one had been extra special -- introducing his son to the place where he grew up, visiting his childhood haunts and taking him to the distillery. William had been fawned over by all the staff as he regaled them with his newly acquired party trick, blowing very loud and very slobbery raspberries. And, whether by reason of tact or ignorance, fortunately no one had made mention of William’s maternal parentage.

He had also managed to mend bridges with his nephew that he never realised were broken. There had always been a close bond between uncle and nephew and Jamie had been so wrapped up with the thrills and anxieties of being a father that he had neglected this bond. At least he’d learnt his lesson on that score.

Planning for the wedding was now finally underway. He just needed to have a conversation with Geneva about flexibility on dates with William. Jamie sighed. Flexibility had never been one of Geneva’s strong points.

And then finally he had to talk to Claire about his idea. The idea that had been discussed and approved at the meeting yesterday. It all depended on her agreement. Jamie wasn’t sure which way that would go.

Claire stirred and looked around. “I must’ve been dozing for a good while. We’ll soon be home.”

Jamie smiled. No matter how many times he heard it, he still thrilled when Claire mentioned home… their home, together.

“Aye, no’ long now. I’d best drop ye at home and then I’ll head straight tae Geneva’s and drop William there.” He grimaced. “And I’ll ask about the dates. If we drive up tae Lallybroch on the Friday, have the wedding --”

“Our wedding,” Claire interrupted.

“Our wedding,” Jamie corrected himself. “... have our wedding on the Sunday. Then Isobel can drive William home on the Monday and we can have a honeymoon fer a week. So I’m asking fer William on the Friday not the Tuesday and then no’ till the following Tuesday.”

“Will she be amenable to that?”

”I dinna ken. This is Geneva we’re talking about.”

**********

Jamie was hardly through the door when Geneva snatched William out of his arms and smothered him in kisses.

“Oh Mummy missed you so much, angel.” She muttered against his head, his ginger down moving slightly with her breath. “Have you had a nice time, then?”

William smiled and blew a very loud and wet raspberry.

Jamie laughed. “His new party trick. I’m sure he thinks he’s verra clever.”

“Hmm, not the nicest thing, I must admit.” Geneva looked down at the shoulder of her satin blouse, now splattered with William’s drool.

Geneva led the way into her living room with Jamie following.

“So, I’ll see you on Sunday evening for pick up then,” Geneva began.

“Aye, But there’s something I want tae discuss with ye.” Jamie hurriedly continued, anxious lest Geneva begin jumping to conclusions. “It’s about the date fer my and Claire’s wedding. We’re having it at Lallybroch, and I was wondering if we could move some dates when I have William around in October, so that the bairn can be at the ceremony and then mebbe Isobel could bring him back tae ye while Claire and I have a week’s honeymoon.”

Geneva thought for a moment before speaking. “You need to email me the dates you are talking about and then I’ll think about it. But, you know, it’s funny, you were the one who got lawyers involved, who wanted your access to William clearly defined. And now you want to start changing things around.”

Jamie clenched his fists behind his back, letting his nails dig into his palms, forcing himself to remain calm. He tried to keep his voice level. “I got lawyers involved because as ye well ken, ye were keeping me from seeing ma son. I’m no’ just asking ye tae be awkward… tae change dates on a whim. This is ma wedding and ma honeymoon I’m trying tae plan.”

Geneva shrugged. “Like I said, send me the dates and I’ll think about it.”

She turned away, the conversation obviously at an end. Jamie kissed William on the head and quickly left.

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

Jamie came up behind Claire as she leant into the fridge and with his hands on her hips, he bent over and kissed the back of her neck.

Without turning around, she immediately responded. “Not much in. I can do us some bacon and eggs for dinner, if you like.”

Jamie pulled away, pretending to be disappointed. “Aw, how did you know it was me, Sassenach?”

Claire finally turned around, her hands now full of dinner ingredients. “Because…” she stood on tiptoes and kissed his nose. “... my other blokes always knock twice before coming in. To check if the coast is clear, you understand.”

“I dinna think ye can manage any other blokes after the weekend we’ve had, aye?” Jamie tried to wink suggestively, which turned into more of an exaggerated blink.

She put the bacon and eggs on the counter top and wound her arms around his waist, running her hands over the contours of his back. She rested her head against his chest. He smelt of cologne and fabric conditioner with a hint of baby and another smell that was uniquely Jamie. She wondered idly whether it was that that kept her wanting him… pheromones. But she knew it was more than that between them… their bodies, their personalities, their souls all inextricably linked together.

“I know. I’ve told them not to bother me. I need time to recover from you this weekend.” Claire joked.

“And I ye, ye vixen. Ye marked me well, ye ken.”

Claire shrugged, gave a fully perfected wink and turned back to the hob.

********

After a hastily put together dinner, Claire relaxed on the sofa, flicking between television channels as Jamie carried two mugs of tea and two slices of Mrs. Crook’s Dundee cake into the living room.

Settling himself next to her, he asked. “Can we turn it off, please? There’s a couple of things we need tae discuss.”

Claire turned to face him and waited.

“I’ve asked Geneva about moving dates around…” he began then hesitated.

“And?” Claire prompted.

“Weel, she said she would consider it and I should send her the dates, but ye ken, Sassenach, I’m worried. Even if she agrees now, what’s tae stop her changing her mind when all the arrangements have been made, jes’ tae make it difficult fer us?”

“Would she do that, do you think?”

“I dinna ken. Even if she wouldn’t, I think she’d like tae have that hanging over us. Mebbe she’d like that control knowing she could change her mind and ruin our plans. It’s a question of how much do we want tae risk it.”

“And how much do you want to risk it?”

“Personally, I dinna want tae risk it at all. I can imagine what it’d be like every time I picked William up or dropped him off… ‘ooh yes Jamie, remind me again what were those dates. I must remember not to go away then…’ and her thinking we’d have tae play any little game she wanted. But this is yer wedding too, Sassenach. I want ye tae be happy with any decisions we make. So, what do ye think? What should we do?”

Claire took a bite of cake and washed it down with a swig of tea as she considered Jamie’s views. “I want to be able to enjoy these next few months, not have to worry about what Geneva may or may not do. And if that means having a shorter honeymoon, so be it. I will not have her thinking she has control over us. Although --”

“I ken what ye’re going tae say. She’ll think she has control making us change our plans now. But I’ll live with that, she canna hold it over us for months.”

“So, if we drive to Lallybroch with William on Friday, have the wedding --”

“Our wedding, Sassenach, is it no’?” Jamie interrupted with a grin.

“OK, point taken… ‘our’ wedding on the Sunday, come home Monday and drop William off at nursery on Tuesday morning, we can still have a honeymoon until Sunday evening. That’s six days.”

“Five nights, dinna forget.” He waggled his eyebrows comically.

“Me...forget? Never.” Claire responded as she reached up and stroked his cheek, enjoying the rasp of the beard growth against her palm. She kissed him lightly before pulling back.

Not content with the fleeting touch of her lips against his, Jamie leant into Claire and returned the kiss, gently at first before capturing her lower lip between his teeth and then teasingly running his tongue around her lips. She moaned softly as he traced a path of butterfly kisses from her mouth down her neck. She shivered as he reached the soft skin behind her earlobe.

“Jamie, don’t distract me,” she said, laughing. “You said you had a couple of things to discuss. What was the other?”

“Mmm?” Jamie continued nibbling her ear.

Claire pulled away. “You had something else to discuss?”

“What… tae… er… discuss?” It took Jamie a few moments to remember their conversation. “Oh, aye… weel… it’s just an idea I had. Ye ken, we’re launching our new whisky in Japan, and Ian’s planning the marketing campaign?”

Claire nodded and shifted in her seat to sit cross legged, her back against the arm of the sofa, facing Jamie. He took her hand, idly playing with her engagement ring as he looked into her eyes.

“I was thinking… yer eyes are sae beautiful, sae warm and they’re the exact colour of the whisky. Would ye be part of the advertising campaign? The photos? Nae pressure but…” he tailed off, unsure of Claire’s reaction.

For once, he couldn’t read her expressions as she looked down at their hands, her eyelids hiding her eyes from his view. She was silent.

“Have I offended ye? I didna mean tae.”

“No… no… it’s just… I’m not a model. I’m not sure how I’d feel seeing myself in magazines. And what if someone recognised me? I wouldn’t want that.”

“Like I said, there’s no pressure. And I havena spoken tae the advertising agency yet, but it would only be fer the Japanese market and I have this idea of only using yer eyes, the rest of yer face hidden. Sassenach, say the word and I willna mention it again.”

Claire bit her lip and shrugged. “Let me think about it.”

#outlander fan fiction #outlander fanfic #Road To The Aisles #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #Chapter 10

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fandomsnrambles · 3 months

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When you’re trying a new colouring style…,

ANYWAY, Wu Spinjitzu!!

Rambling & screenshot under cut

I’ve been doodling Wu a lot in general lately, this was a piece from my sketchbook that i digitalised.

I just love him so much, hes so so so so tragic and sad and sweet and and.. i wish i could squish him and study him under a microscope for scientific purposes.

I also wish we had more Wu moments especially with family (like brotherly bonding and uncle-nephew bonding) his powers etc etc, missed opportunities i swear…

Here’s the screenshot i got inspired by btw

#ninjago #sensei wu #lego ninjago #ninjago wu #fnr’s art #ninjago fanart #hes so cute #does anyone else have a character in ninjago they’d analyse to pieces #for enrichment purposes #for me its wu nya misako jay fsm lloyd and garmadon #this show is so insane lore wise smh

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msjr0119 · 5 years

Text

Forgive me

Part 7- Goodbye for now

A mini series, includes suicide and abuse.

Based on true events but using TRR characters who are owned by Pixelberry.

@annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012 @dcbbw @qammh-blog @nz1091 @beardedoafdonutwagon @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie

******

The Derby had ended, Liam was relieved as he couldn’t concentrate watching it with his father and Regina by his side- constantly asking questions regarding his relationship with Riley. Thoughts constantly repeated in his mind debating whether or not his father was being sincere with his previous words that were said. Drake came by to see him - to check on how his best was doing.

“Hey. I’ve got us a drink. Riley and Max won. Them two together are acting like excited puppies. It’s slightly annoying.”

“Drake come in.” Liam shouted sounding relieved to have some proper company by his side. Constantine and Regina excused themselves leaving the two men alone. Drake passed Liam a beer, as Liam was about to thank him- he noticed something on Drake’s neck.

“Erm, have you been sneaking off with Ella again? Or has Bat-sien had a go at your neck?”

“Damn! I might have to ask one of the girls for some make up. Is it bad? How are you and Riley? Have you kissed and made up yet? She wouldn’t tell us anything.”

“It could be worse. Leo used to literally have blood dripping down his neck. Yes, we are fine. My father is insisting that she should be Queen. Leo is inisisting that I should be Lucas’s father.”

“Leo? You’re as bad as Riley.”

“He’s here Drake. We are not crazy. I wanted to ask you something. A favour really.” Drake suddenly felt a cold shiver down his back- assuming it was just due to the grief he ignored it, wondering what type of favour a prince would require from a commoner.

“Shoot.”

“As there’s no social season, we won’t be doing all the usual events. I know you don’t like all the noble events anyway... so I was going to ask if you could go back to New York with Riley. With Ella too. Then come back together.”

“But you need me here. I go to those events because you are my best friend- my brother.”

“I need someone I trust to keep an eye out on Riley and Lucas. I just thought you’d, what do they say? ‘Jump at the chance’ to see Ella more.”

“Okay, I’ll do it. But you owe me some whiskey.” The two friends laughed at Drake’s bribery techniques. Liam knew he would owe him a lifetime of whiskey for protecting his family.

*****

It was Saturday morning, a week since the gentlemen had first met Riley. A week since she had informed them of the news that nobody would want to be hit with unexpectedly. Walking over to Lucas’s cot, Liam admired his nephew. A fusion of emotions hit him whilst looking adorably at the boy; happiness that this little miracle could carry on the Rhys name, sadness that Riley and he was leaving in the morning and guilt that Leo wasn’t around to celebrate this first milestone. Picking Lucas up, he held him tightly- in a week he had fallen in love with Leo’s mini me.

“Happy first birthday buddy. Your mommy has done a brilliant job of raising you. I love you so much. I hope to spend the rest of your birthdays celebrating with you. Are you going to be a rebellious prince like your father or the ‘goody two shoes’ prince like your uncle?”

“Hopefully a bit of both?”

“Ri... I... I didn’t know you was awake.”

“I felt cold once you got out of bed.” Riley smirked at him, her eyes pleading for him to join her back in bed, with the young prince. Liam carried Lucas over to the bed, witnessing the unconditional bond between a mother a son as Lucas wrapped his arms tightly around her neck.

“Happy birthday my baby. You are so loved. I am never leaving you, you mean so much to me. You may not remember today when you’re older, but this is such a special day.”

“I’ll leave you both to it.” Liam began to walk towards the door, Riley was confused as to why he would disappear- she knew he had no meetings today.

“Why? You’re family. We’re family.” Feeling relieved that Riley wanted to include him in this special occasion he smiled fondly at the two of them. The two people who at this moment in time meant the absolute world to him. Clearing his throat, he couldn’t wait to show Lucas what surprise he had for him.

“I asked Drake to pick me up a present for him from me.”

“You shouldn’t have. The greatest present you could have given him is being present in his life.”

“I’ll always be there for him and for you too.” Kissing her on the forehead he meant every word and had hoped that she would understand that he was being sincere. Sitting Lucas on the floor, he opened Riley’s presents from her first, and then Liam’s. The little boys eyes lit up.

“It’s a bit sentimental to me. Myself and Leo always used to play with trains. I hope he likes it. The royal family tend to keep children’s birthdays private, with just close family and friends attending. I wasn’t sure if you had anything planned seen as though it was an impromptu trip coming here. We could take him for a walk around the grounds? Have a picnic?”

“Sounds perfect Liam.”

******

Riley, Liam and Lucas spent the day just together- allowing Lucas to play with his new toys. Liam had built a train track that travelled all around his room- Riley wasn’t sure who was having more fun. The adult Prince or the young prince. The picnic was brief but simple- all feeling over faced after a while. Once bathing Lucas and reading him a goodnight story, he fell asleep immediately - Riley and Liam spent the remaining time they had together wrapped up under the quilt- their limbs intertwined. Both feeling content in each other’s embrace, surrounded by a calm atmosphere- Liam began to have hope that this was a premonition of what his future was going to entitle.

The morning after; Riley, Lucas, Drake, Ella and Rob were preparing for their flight back to New York. Liam had insisted that they used the royal jet suggesting that he would escort them there- but Drake disagreed, making a valid point that it would be harder and more emotional for Liam to let go of them.

“Drake will look after you both in New York, I will ring you every day. I’m going to miss you both so much.”

“We will miss you too. Won’t we Lucas.” Lucas snuggled into Liam, unable to keep his emotions hidden- Riley walked over to him, caressing his cheek and wiping away his tears with her thumb.

“I’ll be back before you know it your highness.” Liam didn’t care who saw his affections towards Riley, his lips brushed hers not in a teasing way but in a passionate and demanding way instead. Losing theirselves in each other, neither wanted to pull away. “Riley...” he whispered quietly yet slowly, her heart began fluttering at his voice.

“I’ll be waiting for you, always. Nothing will prevent me from seeing you both again.... Riley?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” Riley hesitated at first, not knowing if to say those three little words back with an audience watching them.

“Liam, I...”

“Riley, come on. Say goodbye. I’ll look after them Liam. Can’t say that I’m going to miss the balls these next couple of weeks.” Drake laughed at his own sarcasm- slightly grateful that he didn’t have to put himself through those events. Liam didn’t feel like attending all the royal events. It was time to say goodbye. The goodbye he knew was coming sooner rather than later but also dreaded. The goodbye to the only person that he had ever felt content with. The only person that he had felt happy with. Without her he would feel like he had lost a limb. The last week, consisted of times that they would just talk, laugh, do normal things that normal people would do. Gaining a bond, learning about each other- sharing memories about Leo. Wishing he could turn back time, so he could have supported Leo when he was alive, saving everyone from all this continuous heartache. Already knowing that his chest would feel empty the minute she left- the only way he could get through this pain was knowing that she was going to return with Lucas.

“I’ll ring you once we land.” Liam nodded before kissing her with one lasting lingering kiss, attempting to hold back the tears that were forming in his baby blues. Watching the SUV drive away, it was as if it was in slow motion. Once it was out of sight, he headed straight to his quarters pushing past everyone who was shouting his name in a concerned manner. Entering the room, the scent of Riley was still lingering. Laying on his bed, he smelt the perfume she wore. Everything reminded him of her, crying uncontrollably into the pillow- he felt more alone now than ever before.

*****

A week had gone by, Drake had kept his promise always checking in on Riley and Lucas. Whilst also getting to know Ella- slowly falling in love with her. Debating on whether to return to Cordonia or to give love a chance. Riley and Liam had too had kept to their promise, always talking on the phone at every opportunity given- both always feeling devastated when they had to hang up. Much to her surprise, she had sold her apartment quickly- now it was a waiting game for the deal to go through. Riley was working, it was dead as if she was stood in a morgue- most of the shift was spent daydreaming about Liam and their discussions over the phone, during this excruciating time apart. Thinking about her last call with Liam, knowing it was only going to be a matter of days before she could see him again.

“Hey.”

“Hello. Are you okay?”

“I’ve got some news. I’m homeless.”

“What do you mean?”

“The apartment sold. The couple loved it and are eager to move in as soon as possible.”

“That’s great news Riley.”

“Isn’t it? Also, I officially only have another week to work. Because I didn’t use all my annual leave- my manager has let me use that towards my notice.”

“So you’ll be back sooner than expected?”

“Yes. It’ll just be myself and Lucas though...Drake is taking an extended stay in New York.”

“I gathered when I spoke to him before. I’m thrilled that you’ll be coming back earlier. I have to go, I don’t want to but I have to. Another ball. I’ve missed you both so much- it’s not the same without you both.”

“We’ve missed you too.”

Unexpectedly Drake and Ella stormed through the door, looking panic stricken unbeknown to her. Before Riley could read their expressions, she poured a whiskey and a cocktail. Whenever her manager wasn’t around she would sneakily give her closest friends a drink on the house. As the two of them arrived at the bar, neither touched their drinks which was unusual- instead just looked at each other with sorrow in their eyes, holding back the tears, they didn’t know how to explain to Riley the news they had just received.

“Are you two going away for a kinky weekend away? What’s with all the bags?”

“Riley... Erm... I don’t know how to tell you this....”

“Drake don’t worry- you’re not my babysitter. I won’t tell Liam. It’s our little secret. Enjoy your time together.”

“Riley, you can’t tell Liam anyway.... he... there was an explosion and an attack on the palace....”

Riley’s brain faltered for a moment, every part of her froze as if her life was on pause. Realising that her brain needed to try and absorb the words that Drake had just said- maybe she misunderstood what he said, but looking at the two people in front of her realisation hit her, waking her up from the trance immediately.

“I... I... oh my god... I didn’t say that I loved him back... Drake you didn’t give me chance to... I can’t... breathe...” Feeling guilty that he had forced to abruptly end their painful goodbye- he needed to think positive even though he was dying deep down. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he told her to breathe- following his instructions and advise she felt slightly better.

“Riley, he’s alive. He’s fine. Well not fine but he’s alive. We have to go back to Cordonia now.”

“What happened to him?” She asked, barely able to ask that question. Tears were now uncontrollably running down her cheek- her mascara was smudged. Drake lent towards her holding her hands after wiping her tears.

“He had a forceful blow to his head, attempting to protect Kiara, who was stabbed.” Looking at the time, he knew Bastien would be here with Maxwell within the next few hours travelling on the the royal jet. “They think he may have become blind due to the explosion and the trauma. I’m so sorry Riley.”

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #drakewalker #liam rhys #riley x drake #riley x liam #trr forgive me

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zodiacal-dust-and-curls · 5 years

Text

Memorial

A/N: requested by @mollymarymarie and @daughter-of-ophelia the 500 blurbs. Heavily inspired by the photo above. I hope y'all enjoy it! 🖤

Warnings: alcohol mention, children, fluff

Word Count: 956

Today was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the kids were screaming up and down the block, and Joe was handling everything like a pro. His whole family had plans to come over for a Memorial Day BBQ and fireworks.

"Auntie Y/N!" His nephew was so cute. Maybe one day you'd actually have a kid of your own instead of stealing his brother's.

"Hi, honey!" The small child clung to your legs, his chin didn't come very far above your knees. "Where's your mom and dad?"

"Coming!" He giggled into your thigh. "Where's Uncle Joe?"

You actually hadn't seen him since you set him loose with beer and a lighter about 30 minutes ago. "Why don't you come with me and we'll go find him?"

Taking his hand you walked to the backyard to find Joe, beer in hand, waiting for the coals to turn white while continuing to play with the lighter. He hadn't noticed the two of you yet, so you decided to stay unnoticed.

"Okay, bud." You whispered. "Go give Uncle Joe a big hug and let him know you're here while I go help your parents. Okay?" You put a finger over your lips so he would know to stay quiet.

He nodded enthusiastically back at you before taking off for Joe's knees with a shrill giggle.

In the front of the house, your brother- and sister-in-law were walking up with the newest addition in tow, as well as their contributions to the potluck.

"John! So good to see you. How can I help?"

"Hi Y/N." He looked a little worn out. A toddler and a newborn would do that to you. "Just point me in the direction of my brother and the girls to an open bed. It's nap time."

"Joe's in the back. Trouble has already found him." You turned to his wife, "Follow me, my dears."

After getting baby and mama settled, you got a few things lined out in the kitchen. Everyone else was going to be here soon. You loved having your house full of life and energy.

The party was in full swing by 3pm. The game was blaring from your living room, kids were running through sprinklers, all parents had a drink in hand, and Joe was waiting for the grill to cool off.

"Hey, babe." The day may have been warm, but you needed Joe in your arms right now.

"Hey you." He pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Where has my lovely wife been all afternoon?"

"Making sure everyone is taken care of." You relaxed into him a little more. "You know, hostess duties, just like momma taught me."

"And thank God for that." He smiled at you, a strange twinkle in his eye.

"Joseph Francis, what is that look for?" You didn't trust it. He may have started off loving, but now he looked mischievous.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a small army of children behind you, each armed with a water balloon. The balloons were intended for Joe, but you had chosen exactly the wrong moment to stand in front of him.

Before he could answer you, there were 7 bursts all along your back. You had effectively been a human shield. And he didn't even tell you, that punk.

"Oh you'll pay for this, Joseph. You could have at least warned me."

"But where's the fun in that?" You just narrowed your eyes at the goofy smile on his face.

You went in to change, your cute outfit soaked from the little prank that had just happened. Joe was the only one that had appropriately themed attire of the two of you, also you didn't want to sacrifice another blouse of yours. So you stole one of his shirts and grabbed a pair of shorts and headed outside. Everything went fairly smooth after that, no more water balloons.

Finally, it was time for fireworks. You'd kept your distance from Joe for a bit, opting to entertain your guests and bond with your niece as the sun went down. He seemed to miss you, from the looks he'd been giving you since you came back outside.

You'd put a set of earmuffs on the little darling nestled in your arms and found a chair to relax in.

"Fancy seeing you here." Joe had finally found an opportunity to approach you.

"Quite." You were going to pull this out a little longer. You had no real punishment planned for using you as a human shield, but teasing it out was fun.

He sat down beside you on the grass and pressed his back to the legs of your chair. "I hate to be a bother but is that my shirt?"

"Maybe." You couldn't fight the small smile. He hated to be a bother. What a little liar. He loved bothering you. It was his favorite hobby.

"You should keep it. It looks good on you." He gave you a cheeky smile. You couldn't wait to hear what he had in store. "Looks even better when you're holding a baby."

You may have melted a bit at that. Joe wanted a family of his own one day and he'd chosen you to bring them up with. You knew it'd have to happen sooner or later.

You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "One day, babe. I promise you'll have your own."

As soon as you sat back up the fireworks started. All the children were lying in the grass staring up at the sky, the youngest held by the adults. Joe slipped his hand into yours as you watched the sky come alight with every color of the rainbow.

One day you'd give him everything he wanted.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello imagine #fluff #memorial #t writes #children #alcohol #fireworks #500 follower fun

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thefinalcinderella · 5 years

Text

Tsurune Book 2 Chapter 3-Bow-Crazy (Part 2)

*wheeze* *wheeze* It’s finally out...after more than a month...of being with irl stuff...

After finishing this part, I feel like Tsujimine fits the mold of “underdog school in sports anime” more than Kazemai, even though they have more members. It would be cool to get a story from their point of view.

Also, I recently started reading Beastars since it’s getting an anime and I’m amazed that the mangaka somehow made a deer more attractive to me than 90% of hot bishounen out there...

Glossary here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. An ukeita is a hole set up on the wall for archers to string their bows. They show up in the anime a lot

2. Biku is “ an unconscious and abrupt contraction in kai”

3. The word used here, en ( 縁) is a difficult concept to describe in English. It’s not as grand as “fate” and “destiny” but more like a connection or a bond between people, e.g. the red string of fate. Something like a lucky encounter or a coincidence, divinely preordained. So basically Nikaidou think that Minato was lucky enough to meet Saionji and Shuu, and be enrolled into a high school with its own kyudojo and a kind, helpful advisor.

4. A zabuton, according to Wikipedia, is a cushion for sitting. In sumo, the audience throws zabuton at the ring when a yokozuna is defeated by a weaker one.

5. A yokozuna is the highest rank in sumo.

6. Minato says sorry but it’s slurred since his cheeks were being pulled. I couldn’t express that in English without making it really cringy so I will leave it alone for now

7. An uchidake is the inner face of a bow

8. This paragraph made me wonder what exactly Masa-san studied in university. Anyways tebanasu is 手離す and hanasu is 話す. And kogoru is 凝る. Apparently kogoru is actually an accepted origin for kokoro.

9. Heki-ryuu is a school of kyudo. Don’t ask me what their specialty is, but apparently some of its branches still exist today.

Previous | Next

Nikaidou chased the flowing clouds with his eyes. The sunlight would be intense today as well.

A non-portable target was set up in a corner of the schoolyard, and there were two tatami mats placed behind it for whenever someone missed. They would have liked the shooting line to be in the shade if at all possible, but as they were limited to the area they could use, they could not expect too much.

Tsujimine High School did not have a kyudojo.

They had been practicing in the gym until last year, but with the new school year, they have been banned from using it. As there were many clubs that used the gym, such as the basketball, volleyball, table tennis, and badminton clubs, the kyudo club, which had never won, was told to refrain from using it. They also borrowed a public kyudojo for practice, but they only went there about once a month because of their bad location, which meant a one-way trip there by car took two hours.

All the third-years, other than those participating in the tournament, had retired, and currently there were twenty-two members. Since their advisor was only nominal and almost never showed up, in the absence of a coach, the form of upperclassmen teaching their juniors continued for generations. Even Higuchi and Aragaki, detached from the real world, could not accept to being driven from the gym in their last year of high school. At any rate, they had to earn results that could be clearly seen with the eyes. Words such as, "Let's do our best," had no efficacy whatsoever.

There was only one thing to obtain.

"Victory" at the national tournament.

Nikaidou smiled and turned his sharp gaze towards Fuwa.

"The regional tournament the other day. We were defeated by Shuu-kun's Kirisaki, but I feel super great for defeating Kazemai, where Minato-chan and Seiya-chan are."

"You sure hate your fellow middle school schoolmates a lot. And they're your kouhai?"

"No way, I love them. I have no interest in almost any of the Kirisaki guys, but Shuu-kun and Minato-chan are special."

"I'd like to avoid your special in particular."

"Same. Even I might not like my special. You understand well, Koushirou."

Fuwa pulled on the edge of Nikaidou's hood, which he had pulled over his head.

"More importantly, why the hell are you wearing a hoodie in this stupidly hot weather?"

"This white hoodie is a UV cut type for summer. You don't want to get a half-baked sunburn, right?"

"Are you a girl?"

"I look like a girl to you, Fuwa? Your eyesight is amazing."

"You're twisting words all on your own. If you hate getting a sunburn, then put up a parasol."

"Aah, a parasol might be good, actually. There are only two girls here, this kyudo club. I guess if you aren't fanciful enough, you won't join."

"Well, I guess it'll be creepy to see a corpse rolling around."

Beneath the shade of a tree, Higuchi was sleeping while lying face down. If someone who didn't know him saw him, he really would look like a corpse.

"Higuchi-senpai, you should at least lie down on the picnic sheet."

"Nnn, got it!"

The sloth-like Higuchi quietly got up and curled up on the sheet. He was like a rechargeable battery with a small capacity, quickly exhausted. He seemed to be especially bad with sunlight, and he needed to diligently take naps.

On the contrary, there was another man who vigorously did muscle training whenever he had spare time. He was always moving his body, and his love of muscles knew no bounds.

"Conscious breathing is strongly inhaling with the assistance of the serratus posterior superior muscle, the pectoralis minor muscle, the trapezius muscle, and the levator scapulae muscle, adding the rectus abominable muscle, oblique abdominal muscle, and serratus posterior inferior muscle, and strongly exhaling. Breathing is closely connected with muscle action. Ooh, it's the very mystery of the body!"

"…Kuro-chan sure is knowledgeable."

"Oh, just leave it all to me. This is love too, it is."

Good grief. Even my backhanded compliment didn't get through to him.

Seeing Nikaidou getting guilelessly brushed off, Fuwa's mouth slackened.

Aragaki arrived late. During this period, third-years could not devote their undivided attention to club activities because of teacher interviews and the like after school.

"Aragaki-senpai, I will help you string your bow."

Aragaki raised his hand in a gesture of thanks, and then Fuwa held the top part of his bow, the urahazu. Normally, an ukeita (1) that was installed on the wall of a kyudojo would be used, but in their case someone else would hold up the bow for it to be stringed.

After he finished preparing his equipment, he finally took off his mask. He always used masks of the same brand, and his spare was also flawless. It seemed that it didn't hurt his ears, the texture was nice, and it made him look like he had a small face—all things that he refused to compromise on, but Nikaidou and Fuwa couldn't tell the difference between it and a special bargain sale brand.

Nikaidou took out his phone and recorded everyone's shooting forms.

Aragaki was glued to his own image. From Nikaidou's point of view, there couldn't have been much difference between his face yesterday and today, but Aragaki was immersed in delight every time he saw his own profile.

Nikaidou himself also had a video of his shooting taken by Fuwa.

"Thanks, Fuwa."

"The other day, I was on a trip and I took the opportunity to stop by Shigeyuki-san's kyudojo, but it was closed. Was the practice day changed?"

"Yeah, apparently he's busy with work."

Even as he was saying that, he put away his phone in his bag after he confirmed that everything was saved.

Fuwa was watching him as he did so.

Nikaidou passed through the automatic doors.

As soon as he entered, he was met with a large aqua terrarium.

Without looking at the colourful fish swimming in the miniature garden tank, he searched for his familiar favourite. The dark, ugly fish that always stayed still in the shade of a rock. He didn't know its name. It did not move, as if it was stuck there, and its form could not be identified unless one went all the way around to the side of the tank, so it made little sense for it to be an aquarium fish. It was irresistibly lovely how it did not care at all about the intentions of humans.

After he announced his name at the reception desk, he climbed the stairs, not using the elevator at all.

The hospital room was on the fifth floor.

At the destination to which he climbed step by step, there was a room.

"Shigeyuki-san."

"Hey, Eisuke. You're visiting a lot."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling especially good today. Since no matter what, you got a twenty-shot kaichuu at the regional tournament. I'm so proud to have such an excellent nephew."

"It looks like your shots, since I've always been watching you shoot, Shigeyuki-san."

"Is your eloquence like me too? How strange, I'm supposed to be a quiet man."

Nikaidou Shigeyuki was Nikaidou's uncle.

He was an archer with a muscular body and whose specialty was extremely sharp shots. His love of kyudo grew so intense that he even constructed a kyudojo on the premises of his own home, and a lot of neighbourhood children came to play there. Nikaidou was also one of those children.

The hand-crafted kyudojo, with space for two people to shoot, had its range become a vegetable plot, with different kinds of vegetables planted in it for every season, and many insects, such as butterflies, gathered there. The sight of an arrow flying above all of that was idyllic, more like something from the leisurely and quiet life of a mountain hermit than a strict discipline. But, Nikaidou thought that if he really was a mountain hermit, he wouldn't have gotten sick. Stress and pressure were major factors for the damage to his internal organs.

After they had chatted for a while, Nikaidou took out his phone from his bag.

"It's the usual thing, but please do it for me again."

"Oh, I wonder if everyone has improved? Ooh, Fuwa-kun has a great hanare. The pushing of his left hand is also good. I think he should lower his left shoulder just a little. Higuchi-kun's kai is as long as ever. It is rare even for hanshi-level masters to maintain it that long, but as long as he doesn't get motare or biku (2) then it can stay as it is. And then…"

Shigeyuki was the shadow coach of Tsujimine High School.

The Tsujimine High School Kyudo Club had an advisor, but no coach. For that reason, Nikaidou turned to Shigeyuki. He was currently hospitalized, but readily accepted Nikaidou's request.

Shigeyuki spoke.

"Eisuke, you seem to want to master the way to use your right hand at hanare."

"I don't think my technique can be imitated by the high schoolers over there."

"'Kakehodoki' is making a grinding noise at your right thumb and then shooting the arrow, but there are many archers who don't do that."

"Is that so? I thought it was something everyone did if they were skilled."

"It depends on the shape of the yugake, and there is a wide variety of shooting techniques. It's not like my knowledge is absolute. Fujiwara-kun, who does shoumen uchiokoshi, is not made to do kakehodoki, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Fujiwara-kun truly is Saionji-sensei's best disciple. And besides, the left hand is essential for hitting the target, after all. To begin with, you should learn the correct way of using your left hand."

"Okay. Thank you, Shigeyuki-san. I'll pass it all on to everyone."

Nikaidou loved talking about kyudo with Shigeyuki. On the other hand, he also felt uncomfortable about it, because he did not genuinely love kyudo.

Sometimes, he wondered why he was doing kyudo. He started in fourth grade, and now it was his eighth year doing it. In middle school, he had accomplished winning the individual competitions, but honestly speaking, he had been shooting while thinking, I want to quit, I want to quit. The time of it being incredibly enjoyable and him being happy about winning had already passed. On the other hand, he also did not want to go even farther with it.

He had seen his limit.

Always hitting, never missing—that was only aiming for the absurd.

Even professional archers couldn't make a living from kyudo. Almost all kyudo teachers were volunteers.

He wanted to shut up those who said ridiculous things like, your wishes will come true if you want them strongly enough. Things like not putting in enough effort or putting in effort in a different direction were the objections of winners, and the great majority died without ever being able reach the heights. They were insensitive words from someone who did not notice the heaps of corpses that were rolling at their feet, and spat on them.

He wanted to be free of it all soon.

He wanted to put an end to his archer life.

But despite all that, the biggest reason for why he hadn't quit yet was the existence of Shuu and Minato.

Fujiwara Shuu even had Saionji as his master. He probably had the power of his family and money. It wasn't bad to utilize what he had to the fullest extent, and in fact it was what he should do. However, Minato was different. Even though he was supposed to be a commoner and an average person like himself, why was he the only one who was blessed?

What Nikaidou didn't have and Minato did was "chance." (3) What other people would call the love of a god. Something that couldn't be obtained with effort.

The love of the god of archery? How laughable.

Shigeyuki-san, just watch me. I'll end my career with victory.

I'll strike an arrow back at them.

Minato held the leash and headed for the main street.

It had been a long time since he walked Bear in the evening. Bear cheerily walked ahead.

Ultimately, Minato took a break from club activities. After returning home, he had himself examined at Seiya's father's hospital, and brought Bear along with him. He would have ridden his bike, but gripping the handlebars made his left wrist hurt from the strain. It seemed that he had no choice but to obey his orders until he was completely healed.

He left it to Bear to lead him forward. Honeybees and flower chafer beetles gathered at the white flowers blooming in the buckwheat fields, and white-tailed skimmer dragonflies flew back and forth by the waterside. When he went on a path lined by spotted bellflowers, he came to a place with a good view.

There was a new shop. Enticed by the delicious smells of homemade bread, Minato opened the shop's door. He was told by a shop assistant that since not only locals, but also trekkers and cyclists who drop in, it was common for things to sell out in the early hours.

When he left the shop, Minato was holding cinnamon rolls, its hallmark product. Drawn in by the sales message of "they go amazing with coffee," he bought them before he knew what he was doing.

What should I do with these?

There probably isn't an opportunity for me to give them to him.

Ever since Masa-san took up the job of being the coach for the Kazemai High School Kyudo Club, there had been no opportunities for the two of us to shoot together at the Yata no Mori Kyudojo. He doesn't drink coffee during the practices at school, so even if he was in Yata no Mori, he would definitely turn them away. And my pocket money is tight this month, so I really am a hopeless idiot.

"Bear, what should I do? Is it better even just to go and watch practice? But I can't really concentrate on it…"

For Minato, the kyudojo was a place where his mind felt at ease. And yet, seeing the unfamiliar pairing of Masa-san and Shuu made him feel irritated.

Their levels were so different that it was like looking at something unreal. The sound of the flying arrow sent out from that gifted body was sharp, and it could only be thought of as something done by an inhabitant of another world. Even for the things that Minato couldn't easily improve at no matter how many times he was told to, Shuu could clear them extremely easily. After all, even for those who taught, there was probably worth in teaching people like Shuu, who picked things up quickly.

Minato sat down on the ground. He stroked Bear's thin eyebrows, and he licked Minato's hand. That naturally led to him rubbing Bear's head and back. Bear had always comforted him like this since a long time ago, but perhaps sensing something on this day, he stood up all of a sudden.

"Bear?" a voice came from behind.

"…You surprised me. Why are you in a place like this, Onogi?"

Kaito took out his earphones.

"Shouldn't I be the one surprised? I was wondering if Seiya was here. I'm heading home from club. My mom dragged me here to buy some bread filled with red bean paste, which is limited to one per customer, for Nanao's house."

"Then, Seiya will be home soon."

"Narumiya, you came when you were told not to, and didn't when you were told you could come. What exactly do you want to do? Didn't they talk about how useful it is for you just now? Simply watching practice is also valuable."

"I know that."

"You know, so what's up with you?"

"…I hate having my own lack of skill spelled out for me when the current Shuu is right before me."

"Hah, so stupid. I can't believe you're letting this rare opportunity get away for that kind of reason. Ultimately, you still have no excuse. Why do you think Tommy-sensei invited Fujiwara?"

"Wasn't it a request from Shuu? Ryouhei invited him too."

"Did you already forget what you yourself said? Didn't you say that watching skilled people shoot is one way to gain knowledge? Since Kazemai doesn't have cutthroat battles to become regulars like at a powerhouse school, so we lack the enthusiasm to 'absolutely get better.' There's no air of tension from being overwhelmed by a skilled guy. Isn't Tommy-sensei trying to fire us up by showing us Fujiwara's shooting from up close?"

Indeed, Shuu never lost focus at any time.

Even in practice matches, he showed his relentless strength. He maintained his unashamed attitude of being the one to stand above all high school archers for three hundred and sixty-five days.

"Could it be that the reason why Tommy-sensei said that he couldn't praise us even if we all got kaichuu was—"

"Because our minds were 'slackening.' And, we settled the reasons for why we lost with 'it can't be helped.' Seiya and the others were also talking about that during today's practice. They were saying that even if we didn't intend to, somewhere in our minds, we might have been thinking something along the lines of 'we don't really have to win this regional tournament by overextending ourselves.' Isn't that attitude putting down the other archers who are shooting their bows seriously? Well, you felt angry, unlike us."

Minato bit his lip, and then pressed the package from the bakery into Kaito's hand.

"Sorry. Take this."

"What? Isn't this all of it?"

"I didn't put it in a backpack, and I'm carrying something in my hand even though I'm walking Bear, so it's a bother. Well then, I'm going home now."

Minato broke into a run without waiting for Kaito's response.

"That guy, why did he buy this even though he's not eating it…?"

Kaito's muttering, as he held the bag of bread, did not reach anyone's ears.

It was the last day of Shuu's practice at Kazemai High School.

Minato showed up at the kyudojo for the first time in a week. Seiya, Kaito, Nanao, and Ryouhei were practicing while commenting on each other's shooting forms.

Shuu and Masa-san were shooting in a two-person tachi. The two, who were tall and had similar builds, worked together smoothly as though they were old friends. Masa-san raised his bow, parted it, and released his arrow as though tracing Shuu's movements. The tsurune resounded loudly. No ordinary person could imitate the both of them, who shot right through the center of their targets. It was most likely a state only those who had fully honed their skills could reach. It was a beautiful dance of only two people.

Minato was the only one not wearing kyudogi there. Even though he felt like quickly leaving as soon as possible from the loneliness of being left by himself, on the other hand, he also wanted to stay.

The archers he admired were here.

Even being reproached for watching them was no different from being told to stop breathing.

When Shuu finished zasha, he approached Minato, who was standing in the corner.

"Minato, are you going to shoot today?"

"No, I still didn't get permission."

"I see, that's a shame. This is my last day here, but I learned a lot from being shown Masa-san's shooting. Saionji-sensei never talked a lot, but I realized that we were instructed with a good deal of meaning put in."

"That's good to hear. I'm really sorry for being completely useless… I'll be going to the hospital from now on. See you another time, Shuu."

Shuu moved his face closer to Minato's shoulder, who had looked away.

"Don't show it on your face so readily. It'll make it too hard to see you off."

"What do you mean?"

"Seiya's father is examining you, right? It's fine, you can shoot once you've healed. Let's shoot together next time we meet."

"…Yeah. You really are cool, Shuu. You're like a samurai."

Shuu opened his eyes wide.

"…Of course I am," he said, then lightly bumped Minato's right hand while it was hanging by his side with his fist.

Now that he was taking a break from club, the days passed in a blink of an eye.

They had just entered the suspension period of club activities that took place before exams, and because he thoroughly did the practice that did not involve using a bow when he had hayake, it became his specialty.

On the day the end of term finals was over, Minato was at Seiya's family's orthopedic surgery clinic. A sumo wrestling match was showing on the television in the waiting room. In it, there was a scene of zabuton (4) flying after the match was over. A young boy, seeing that, spoke to a man sitting next to him who looked like his grandfather.

"Grandpa, why's everyone throwing their zabuton?"

"That's because the stronger wrestler won by using a technique used by the weaker wrestler, so the people watching that got angry."

"Huh, why are they angry even though he won?"

"Sumo is a martial art, after all. The wrestlers are too proud to win by cowardly methods, of course, but also by cheap techniques. Even if they get hurt, if they don't show the true power of a yokozuna (5) when standing in the ring, then wouldn't that be rude to their opponents?"

Minato secretly kept the two's conversation to his heart.

In the examination room, the doctor, Seiya's father, spoke.

"Does it really not hurt anymore? I don't want to get scolded by Seiya if I don't find out you're lying."

"It is true. I wouldn't do anything like lying since I of course also don't want to drag this out."

"It was worth it for me to ask Tommy-sensei to have you take a break until you are fully healed, since you would probably not be able to endure watching kyudo without being able to shoot, Minato-kun. Though, in the beginning, Coach Takigawa seemed to have thought that it would be good for you to study by observing, at least. Alright, your examination is finished."

When Minato returned home, he threw himself down on his bed in his second-floor bedroom. He raised his left hand high above his head and tried moving his wrist. There was no more pain.

The sumo conversation he had listened to in the clinic's waiting room not long ago had something in it that could be related to kyudo. If it was someone who never did kyudo, they might think it was great as long as your hitting rate was good. However, it was different for archers. They would feel irritated at seeing a person resolutely hitting with a messy shooting form.

What Seiya's father had said was unexpected. Masa-san had not said anything like that at all to him. He would have obediently accepted it a little if he had heard that.

Minato shouted on top of his bed.

"Masa-san's an idiot! That shitty dirty old geezer——!"

Even if he denounced his master in a nook of the countryside, he keenly felt the insignificance of his own ability, and it only felt all the more futile.

A sound poured down on him when he closed his eyes.

A cold and tender melody.

He wanted to hear it by his side rather than in his memories.

His phone that had rolled to his pillow was ringing. Perhaps Seiya had heard his roar just now. When he looked, he saw that the sender was Masa-san. The text read, (look outside your window).

He got up and saw Masa-san holding a bow and quiver below the window. From the design of the bow cover and other things, they were without a doubt Minato's. Minato rushed down the stairs and opened the door.

"First of all, I guess I should say, good evening."

"What, um, why are you here, Masa-san?"

"I was adjusting everyone's equipment today. Though when I planned on doing it for Minato as well and stopped by, I heard a distant howling from somewhere. 'Masa-san's an idiot!' or something like that."

"Oh. …So-sorry."

Masa-san lightly pinched Minato's cheeks and pulled them.

"You're half right, but don't shout that while your window is open, since it's embarrassing."

"…I'm so sorry." (6)

Minato led Masa-san through the front door.

"My dad still isn't home yet. Should we go upstairs?"

"No, here is fine. More importantly, try gripping your bow."

Masa-san took out the bow from the bow case.

"You have relatively large hands, so I put in a piece of paper about as thick as a postcard for the grip to try to make it a bit thicker. It's a semi-cylindrical shape, but there's also a way to slightly raise the right side of the uchidake (7) so your fingertips will reach the corners more easily. I had everyone else do it by themselves, but to celebrate you recovering from your injury, I did yours myself."

Minato received his bow with a new grip.

The original leather grip wrapping (nigirikawa) was used for a long time and became slippery, but this new leather felt good to the touch. Though it was easier to grip it when it was thin, thanks to its raised height, the fitting of his little finger was good as well.

"It feels great. Thank you, Masa-san."

"Your arrows were also the length of those used by beginners, so I had them shortened a little at the kyudo equipment store. Even a slightly lighter one would decrease the burden on your wrist. I also took the opportunity to expose your arrow feathers to steam and straighten them."

"You knew my yazuka really well."

"Well, it might not seem like it, but I am your master after all."

Masa-san grinned.

It felt like it had been a long time since he saw Masa-san smile like that. His heart hurt a little.

"Masa-san, I want to try shooting."

"Do you want to go to Yata no Mori?"

Minato got the backpack he used for kyudo, and got into the passenger seat of Masa-san's car.

The stars were twinkling above the mountains. From the slightly open windows came the lively sounds of insects carried on the wind. The frogs rejoicing in the rainy season made up the background chorus. The stretching lights illuminated the streets at night. Their distant destination was covered in darkness, but there was a road in the range where the lights reached.

A road that appeared by moving forward.

Minato tugged at his seatbelt for no particular reason, and Masa-san gave him a sidelong glance.

"Does your seatbelt feel uncomfortable?"

"No, that feels fine. Um, Masa-san. I'm sorry for calling you a shitty old geezer the other day and just now…"

"Were you worrying about those kinds of things?"

"It's not just that."

"You still have other insults for me? Since we have the time, I'll listen to them."

"Masa-san, I'm happy that you became the coach for Kazemai, but I'm also not."

"Why is that?"

Minato exhaled loudly.

"…Because I can't keep you to myself."

When the car stopped at a red light, Masa-san ruffled Minato's hair.

"You really are just a little kid after all."

"Don't call me a little kid! And don't mess up my hair!"

"Alright, alright."

"The light turned green, you know!"

As Minato was fixing his tousled hair, the car began moving again.

"It's just the story from when I was in high school, but because I couldn't do what Grandpa told me to do very well at all, so I had other teachers take a look at me. Even so, whenever I went to get taught by other teachers, Grandpa would always get in a bad mood. I couldn't understand why, but now I can understand his feelings."

"What kind of feelings?"

"The feeling of 'don't you meddle with my student.'"

"Huh?"

"I know that your hitting rate will increase if you improved your right hand. However, even though we were working hard on correcting your left hand first in order to not harm your left wrist, some outsider had the nerve to tell you to do something uncalled for. Even though he never saw you everyday, what could he understand from only seeing you shoot one or two arrows?"

Sorry, Minato murmured in his mind.

"But, didn't you make Shuu touch your belly?"

"If anyone else heard only that, I would sound like a pervert, wouldn't I? Did you want to touch it too, Minato?"

"I'm not a pervert, so I'm fine."

"To begin with, you have too many weak spots! Your thinking is too naïve! Your range of behavior is strangely wide, you act way too recklessly, you're an airhead—I can see why Seiya got so overprotective of you."

"There's no need to go that far…"

"Because of that, I was waiting for you to say something, but I should have been the one to act. I suppose a coach who can't even manage his athlete's health is less than third-rate——?"

Masa-san put his left hand to his temple to cover his eyes.

Minato grabbed that hand with the wristwatch and brushed up the strands of hair hanging by his cheek, driven by the urge to look into those hidden eyes. But, he quietly swallowed.

"My master will always and forever be Masa-san. I want to listen to your tsurune forever——. Please take care of me from now on, Master."

"I should be the one saying you shouldn't be too hard on me."

Their mouths loosened.

"I sort of feel more relaxed when I talk with you, Masa-san."

"Oh, since ancient times, conversation has been a kind of therapy. There are various theories on how words came to be, but with 'o' standing for big, and 'ko' standing for small, o and ko have lingered in people's ears and became 'oto' and 'koto'. 'Oto' doesn't have any meanings such as an idea or concept, and 'koto' does. The origin of kokoro (heart, mind) is 'kokoru—kogoru (to congeal, to stiffen)'. Kokoro meant something heavy in the first place. 'Hanasu (to talk)' was to release a stiffened heart, let go of it (tebanasu)." (8)

"It seems like the 'hanare' of kyudo is also connected to that."

At the Yata no Mori Kyudojo, the blue hydrangea flowers were in full bloom. His heart danced at reuniting with Fuu the owl. Fuu, perched on his shoulder, tilted its head as usual.

Minato and Masa-san stood side-by-side before the targets. Minato lightly drew the bow in his hands, making a bang sound.

"I think that I was acting proud because I've been doing kyudo for a bit longer than everyone else. Not being able to shoot well because my wrist hurt was just an excuse for me to say. If I'm standing at that place, I must not make excuses for myself, not to mention for the people who are watching me."

"Do you have an answer for what is the responsibility of your own ochi?"

"Yeah. It's rare for a beginner to be an ochi. As a senpai, it is my duty to show the 'way of the bow.' I have the role of lighting the way from behind, so that everyone would not go the wrong way."

"A good answer. I learned something as well."

Masa-san smiled.

"I won't overstretch myself and copy Shuu, and I'll commit myself to strengthen my left hand like you said. And then, I want you to tell me how to do dantian breathing once more."

"Well, when you thinly exhale at 'kai,' I believe that you can personally feel the useless power in the shoulders going away, and force being applied to your abdomen. Your dantian is fulfilled when you exhale eighty to ninety percent of your breath rather than all of it. The moment that leads to the time of hanare from nobiai is called 'yagoro' in Heki-ryuu, (9) and there is a good practice for remembering that timing, but these days you might get scolded by the other archers for being noisy."

"Oh, could you be talking about 'yagoe'?"

"Yes, shouting 'aiiee!' or 'yaa!' or something like that when you're releasing your arrow. Fujiwara was talking about Saionji-sensei also teaching it to you guys in the past."

"Yeah, we practiced producing our yagoe."

"Hanare is not done when you completely exhaled at kai, but at a good time when you are able to let out a yagoe."

"Can I try shooting together with you, Masa-san?"

"Yes, of course."

Minato stood in front of Masa-san.

The two simultaneously spread their feet, parted their bows, and lifted them. They slowly spread their chests.

Words were not necessary when a person becomes one with their bow. The long breaths that occurred over and over and the back that bended as it was stretched. Letting go of the unorganized words, the "feelings," packed in one's chest, abandoning one's body to sensation to the point of outrageousness, and waiting for the moment to fly off.

The two's yagoe dashed into the night sky.

When they finished after who knows how many rounds, Minato opened his backpack.

"Masa-san, here's something to drink."

"Oh, is that a new brand of canned coffee? Thanks. That's right, I also have something to eat."

What Masa-san took out was a bag from the bakery Minato went to the other day, and it did not contain cinnamon rolls, but homemade oyaki.

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#tsurune #tsurune translation

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deimagines · 6 years

Text

Second Chance (A Steve Rogers‘s Sister Imagine)

Imagine that Steve Rogers A.K.A. Captain America. Actually has a baby sister who was only eight when Steve has to leave her in the care of their neighbor to go to war and was ten when she was told that her brother had disappeared and was soon entitled dead in action.

And then, almost seventy years later, Steve was told that his sister was still alive and had shockingly worked for SHIELD before going into retirement. Unfortunately, she has cancer and is about to die soon. And in her final moments, she asked him to do one final mission for her.

To raise her only granddaughter.

(This will also include a few ocs, and again I hope you enjoy!!)

(Play me)

~1942 (Brooklyn, New York)

“Okay Y/N,” Steve calls. “Time for bed.”

Y/N Rogers. The eight-year-old sister of Steve Rogers was not only the biggest sweetheart in the world. But she was the only thing that Steve would ever consider the only family that he has other than Bucky, who he had considered as a brother since they were kids.

Y/N runs through her room that Steve made her clean before she took her bath and brushed her teeth. It was a normal routine that Steve had become used to ever since their mother passed away. Unfortunately, Y/N didn’t have a chance to get to know their mother very well. And it was hard to answer her questions about why they didn’t have a mother or a father when all the other kids like her have.

Steve didn’t have a choice but to answer truthfully in the most gentle way as possible. He told her that their mother had to be away. And that she was so sorry that she couldn’t be with them longer. Y/N soon then understand why they needed to visit the large stone that Steve took her once and every year on the birthday of their mother.

Once Y/N was in bed and Steve tucks her in and kisses her forehead.

“Night Y/N.”

But before he could leave the room. She calls out to him in a soft tone.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Ginger wants a song.” She holds her handmade toy, that she made with their neighbor Miss Audry, and held it a bit high to show Steve.

He smiled and came right back to her side bed. “Well, what does ‘Ginger’ want to hear?” He sat at the edge.

“The one you always sing,” Y/N answered. “Please.” She gave him the eyes that could possibly make all men hearts melt no doubt when she grows older.

Steve chuckles quietly and leans closer to her. “Alright, but then it’s off to sleep. Ok?”

Y/N nodded happily and lay back down and snuggled into the blankets.

“At last my love has come along

My lonely days are over.

And life is like a song.”

Steve smiled as his sister began to drift off to sleep and she purposely holds his hand that was resting on her stomach while he sang and smiled lovingly as he continued.

“You smiled and then the spell was cast

And here we are in heaven.

For you are mine at last. . .”

He whispered the lyrics when he made sure that Y/N was finally asleep. He kissed her forehead again took his hand back carefully without waking her up.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He whispered.

***

“Peggy. . . I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance.”

Peggy sniffs. “Alright. . . A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club. That way you’ll have enough time to spend with Y/N.”

“You got it. Tell her I’ll read her her favorite when I come home.”

“Ok. . . Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

“You know. . . I still don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll show you how. Just be there.”

“We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your------” Suddenly the radio went to complete static.

“Steve?” Peggy whimpered. “Steve?” She choked. And General Phillips only looks down in defeat. Loosing yet another soldier in battle.

“Steve?” Peggy tries again until she gave up and covers her face in sorrow being left alone in the control room when Phillips couldn’t bare the sight anymore. With only one thought remains in his head now.

‘How am I going to break the news to the kid?”

~2012

In a home near Brooklyn New York. Y/N Rogers was lying peacefully in her bed with a book in hand. Multiple pictures were placed on her bedside drawer. Some of the pictures contain the day her wedding, the day of her only child’s birth. And her pride possession, her oldest brother. Taken before he was injected with the serum.

When Y/N found out about Steve. She was explained by a man in a suit and her guardian, Miss Audry, a kind old neighbor of the Rogers, that Steve died fighting for what’s right. He saved countless of lives that day when he sunk the Valkyrie down into the ocean, including himself.

Y/N wanted to hate her brother for as long as she can remember. She wanted to hate the visits that her brother’s friends made to keep her company. Making sure the memory of her brother still lives in their own point of views instead of the ones the public claimed.

She hated to admit that she enjoyed their visits. Especially the ones a certain British woman had come and made.

Peggy was practically like a sister to Y/N whenever the older woman made the time to visit and chat on the things they did and the lives they were making. But most of all, they talked about Steve.

Y/N was doing the most of the talking though. She gave Peggy every detail about the life and childhood Steve have given to her along with the embarrassing stories she had of him. And she wouldn’t change anything about it. They bonded through the years sharing the pain that was stuck inside them like a tumor. But they often reminded each other that Steve wouldn’t want them to sulk up their lives mourning for him. He would want them to be happy.

But as Y/N began to grow up. She found that waiting on men at diners and sitting at home cooking and sewing for her entire life wasn’t the one she would proud of.

So she began to find the opportunities and worked her ass off long enough that it lead her from working at John’s as a waitress to Agent Martins of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.

But Y/N, along with the rest of her fellow comrades, mostly like to call it by its acronym. SHIELD.

Y/N thought it was best to hide her true identity to avoid any enemies.

She devoted herself to the work that her brother had inspired to create with the help of Peggy and another friend of Steve, Howard Stark. Y/N finds him both silly and amusing to play with when she was a child.

And when Howard made a decision to make Y/N the godmother of his first and only son, Tony. She hesitated at first, fearing that their line of work was bad enough to have children. But she soon agreed to it when she found a love of her own after 10 years of working in SHIELD.

He was daring, practical, smart. But most of all, he was the only nephew of Colonel Chester Phillips. Micheal Aaron Phillips. But most people view him as ‘Mike’.

Mike was a few years older then Y/N was. Making her a bit timid by his appearance and skills. But the skill that Y/N was glad that Mike lack of was arrogance.

He was there when Agent ‘Martins’ was assigned to retrieve an artifact that was stolen from SHIELD. Her brother’s shield.

After their mission. Mike was intrigued by the girl that his Uncle Chester has told him so much about before he signed up into the organization.

Soon enough a spark ignited between them and little did they know that they found themselves in a small church getting married after many long years of dates, picnics, and the watchful eyes of her protectives Howling Commando uncles.

Boy, was that Mike afraid of their eyes.

After then, Y/N gave birth to a healthy baby girl, Dahlia. And 34 more years later, she was blessed with a granddaughter, named Sarah.

Dahlia’s husband heard the name once from Y/N and instantly had a liking to it so much that he practically begged Dahlia to name their daughter after Dahlia’s deceased grandmother. Dahlia found no argument to it and also agreed.

When Y/N retired, she lived a happy life in Brooklyn where she and Steve grew up in. She tells stories of her times to her only beloved grandchild and her daughter and son-in-law.

Until that one night, Y/N was contacted by an officer who gave her the horrific news.

News that would leave Sarah an orphan and a heartbreaking Y/N.

After taking in of what’s possibly the only blood relative she has. Y/N made sure to share the exact pain she had with her brother’s passing and emerge that pain with the loss of her daughter and son-in-law.

Y/N made sure that Sarah was constantly reminded that she was not alone and she would always be loved. It too broke her heart immensely that she could no longer see her daughter and son-in-law anymore. Angry that the universe took yet another piece of her heart.

And Sarah, she soon began to understand why mommy and daddy aren't coming back.

But it was okay. She has her granny after all. Every day they would go through her granny’s special cookbook that was gifted to her by a very special friend of hers a long time ago.

On other days, they would go to their spot in Central Park to have picnics and play tea parties much to Sarah’s delight.

But she began to notice the tired eyes that her granny was showing every now and then.

She can remember the constant times when she would visit the hospital with her grandmother as the doctor and she talk about grown-up stuff. Sometimes she would eavesdrop on their conversation and began to pick up certain words that she hardly understands.

Plasma cells.

Multiple myelomas.

Cancer.

Sarah watched as the people in white clothes, doctors and nurses she soon found out, bringing the equipment into her grandmother’s room.

Lately, she’s been doing her regular routine in her grandmother’s side bed and was always asked to wait out in the hall when the doctor comes and checked in.

In the real world. Y/N was always advised that she should take her final moments at the hospital. Where they could treat her well.

But every time she denies. Saying that she wanted to have her final moments with her granddaughter in their home where they had made so many wonderful years together after her daughter’s passing.

She wanted to die in a place where she can relax. Enough to forget that she was going away. Forever.

When the months pass, Sarah ‘s birthday was coming up soon. She’ll be turning eleven in two months time. She was beginning to grow a little taller too. She was just about above the high countertop where she and Y/N used to make their recipes together.

She’s going to miss that. It wasn’t sugarcoated that Sarah knew she was going to lose her granny soon. Even though she barely remembers her parents. Granny was practically the one she would always love more than anyone else. And she wasn’t just her grandmother or the person she was raised by. She was her best friend.

Ring. Ring. Ring-

One day, the Rogers residence got a call. Sarah was hesitating to answer, but Granny was taking her rest and the only other adult in the house was still outside getting the groceries bags from the car outside.

So without any other options, she took the home phone and click the green button.

“Hello?” Sarah answered.

“. . .Hello, is this Helen Cho?”

Sarah was greeted by a man’s voice. Asking for Helen.

Helen Cho was the doctor that Y/N’s godson had assigned for her care. Insisting that she needed the best of the best. No charge.

“No.”

“Oh. . . well, in that case, would you mind handing the phone to Doctor Helen Cho?”

“Why? Are you a doctor too?”

“No my name Phillip J. Coulson. I’m a friend of Josie Rogers. Is there an adult that I can speak with sweetheart?”

This man- Phillip- asked and before Sarah could answer. Helen appeared through the front door with the groceries.

“Sarah, who are you speaking to?” She asked in a kind but also tired voice as she carried the heavy groceries haul into the kitchen and sets them on the counter table.

“There’s a guy on the phone.” Sarah says and Helen panics a bit but she hides it anyway so that she wouldn’t startle the little girl that she was growing to love during the past 6 months.

“He said his name is Phil-” Helen didn’t answer the child as she hurries and swiped the phone off of Sarah’s hands.

“Hello. Who is this?”

“Helen. It’s Coulson.”

Helen covers the phone with her other hand. “Sarah, can you take out the groceries, please?”

Sarah shrugs, not caring about the man anymore. “Okay.” And runs off to the kitchen.

Helen places the phone back to her ear. “Agent, what a surprise.” She says quietly, not wanting the child at the other room to hear her.

“Hey, Helen.” Coulson greeted. “How’s everything in the household?”

Helen looks behind her shoulder to see the girl in the house taking apples out from the paper bag. “Well enough. But only for so long. Listen, everything I’ve done. Everything I did won’t slow down her condition Coulson-”

“Just give me the straight answer Helen.” Coulson interrupted her and she closed her eyes for a moment then said.

“Probably a month. But that’s me being hopeful. . . She’ll be gone in any week by now. She’s growing weaker by the day.”

Helen stopped herself to sigh and holds her emotion to spare Coulson. She knew how he favored his mentor all those years ago.

“But anyway. What else did you want to know?”

After a few words being answered to her question. Her eyes had suddenly grown slightly big and she was practically gapping in the spot on the hall.

“A-are you sure?” She asked. “. . . When?. . . Alright. I’ll let her know. Have a good day Coulson.”

She pressed the off button and placed the home phone back to its charge before placing a hand on the wall to hold herself up.

After a minute of silence, she straightens herself up and began to walk upstairs to where her elder was resting. When she got to the room, she knocked on the open door to present herself.

“Who is it?” Y/N was staring at the window with studied eyes as she watched the leaves blowing against the wind. How she loves the little things. Its what kept her sane ever since she was on house arrest. Or that’s what she likes to call it.

“It’s me. Helen.”

Y/N turns and smiled sweetly at the young woman. “Helen. I see you and Sarah are back from your trip to the supermarket.”

But then, she noticed that expression on her nurse's faces and began to worry a bit. “What’s wrong dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

If only Helen could correct her statement. But to tell her the news. Cho sits at the end of the bed by Y/N’s legs and calms herself enough to speak.

“They found him.”

Y/N frowns then said. “What? Helen who found who?”

Helen gulps and Y/N asked again. “Helen?”

The young woman let out a big breath and said. “He’s alive Y/N. Your brother. Captain America. He’s alive Y/N.”

Y/N’s breath hitched and she blindly searches something to hold with her hand and found the offering of Helen’s. felt like she wasn’t going to breath. It was like she was in one of her dreams. Having someone to tell her that her brother was alive had been one of the biggest fantasy she’s ever had ever since the Valkyrie drowned into the sea.

She looks at Helen to see any tricks or hallucination that could be happening in her head right now. Wondering if this was another trick from her lack of energy. But Helen’s eyes answered it all.

He’s alive.

_*_*_

Steven Grant Rogers. Captain America.

Steve Rogers.

After being found and wakened up.

He was so studious about the many changes in New York.

Most of the woman that he’s seen were wearing pants.

Large television screens were placed all over Time-Square.

And as if it didn’t get any strange, it did when he saw a young woman with what looks like a pierced earing on the bottom of her lip when Fury and some other agents took him inside of the main headquarters of SHIELD.

It was a strange event for him to wake up so suddenly in a fake medical ward and was later being chased by armed men out of the building until they caught him in Time Square.

Seventy years. Almost anyway.

That’s how long he had been gone from Fury’s statement. He had been asleep for almost seventy years. But it felt like he had been asleep for only one night. It was surreal even.

So surreal that he even considered that he was just dreaming and that he would wake up any moment now in one of those uncomfortable cots that he had just gotten used to after so many periods of sleep on rocks and hard pavement when he and the Howling Commandos were off doing missions on Hydra’s bases.

He imagined that Peggy would be at his side when he wakes. And miraculously, they would manage to bring his baby sister in and she would jump into his arms like she always does whenever he managed to visit her back in Brooklyn.

But he needed to remind himself that he was only daydreaming, hoping. And that he really did disappear for so long and was later found by SHIELD.

He can never get that dance at the Stork Club that he promised his best gal.

Never got the chance to give away Y/N at the altar on the day of her wedding.

Not even a chance to meet his niece. Dahlia Phillips.

By the time when he was escorted to Fury’s office after being changed into some different clothing that was given to him when came to the headquarters.

He was carefully told that SHIELD was founded by Howard Stark. Chester Phillips, and Margaret Carter. Made it a successor to continue the old government that Steve once remembered, the S.S.R.

He was explained that after the war was won, many agents were sent to find, or retrieve Steve back starting from where the Valkyrie was last seen.

Trails went cold. And some had even given up on the search until one by one, the agents dialed down to a single crew.

To the public, Captain Rogers was 'presumed' dead. Even some of America’s top leaders suggested to give up the search on Rogers. Seeing that he is just what history claims him to be. History.

Until now.

Then all of the information hadn’t even matter when Steve asked about his sister.

He was only given the basics. That she graduated in one of the finest schools and college. Got married to an honorable man and had a kid and a grand-daughter soon enough.

And before she did the family dream with a picket fence. She was an agent.

Steve was shocked as Fury told him about the ‘success’ his sister made for SHIELD. How she was the first youngest agent to be initiated at the age of 22. And was once made the head director of SHIELD for about three decades until she retired and gave up the position to Fury.

To be honest. Steve was actually proud of Y/N. Even if he didn’t want her to live a life as an agent. Still, he was angry that she wanted to place herself in heavy situations that he’s probably going to have to give her one of his ‘big brother talk’ moments that he missed giving to her ever since he got into the war.

Which reminded him something. He asked about how Y/N is now. He didn’t even hide the hesitation when he asked. It was clear that no matter how long you have or how healthy you are. Death will always come so fast that you can’t even see coming. Especially working for the government.

Fury did his definition of sugarcoating and told Steve that his timing was so practical when Y/N only had a few weeks to live.

Suddenly, Steve found himself going through memory lane. Thinking about the times to every pain he felt in his life.

From the bully punches in the alleys and streets, Project Rebirth, and the deaths of Dr. Erskine and his long-time best friend, Bucky.

All of the physical and emotional pain was hitting him all at once in just that second.

His little baby sister was dying.

Though he was glad that she lived this far. Building a family of her own as she works her way into SHIELD like it was nothing. It surprises him that she even got the time to have one. A family. Fury even gave him the name of the grand-daughter that Y/N loves to death.

Sarah. That’s the name of Steve’s great-niece. Named after his mother. And he couldn’t wait to meet her already.

“When.” He asked. Not adding any more explanation after he said it. Knowing that Fury would easily understand about what he’s asking.

“Now.” Fury said.

It was about time that Captain America is going to meet his baby sister again after almost 70 years.

_*_*_

A clean vehicle with very privacy glass to hide the back passengers that were being taken to Brooklyn. It didn’t go unnoticed when Steve saw the large changes in the city that he had grown up in.

New buildings were built and the small apartments that he crossed so many times in his youth were replaced by shops. And the shops that he remembers, along with the Stork Club were replaced by different ones and numerous names were popping out everywhere the vehicle goes. Some were even repeating like McDonald’s and Taco Bell.

He’s going to have to ask someone about them later.

During the trip, Fury was kind of kind enough to give Captin with some grand updates that he had missed during his time in the ocean. One of them being the Civil Rights of Act 1964.

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the fact. Y/N’s favorite neighbor, Miss Audry was a sweet old black woman that lives in the apartment that was just under their’s. She would always take care of Josie whenever he had to go out to work. Her wish came true.

It wasn’t until they crossed through Brooklyn Bridge that his nerves started to kick in and his knee was subconsciously beginning to bounce. His eyes looking out at every buildings and house they passed to take the time to calm himself a bit until they get to the address that Fury only knows.

Suddenly the car slows down to a stop in front of a terraced house. “Here we are.” Fury said.

Steve couldn’t help but gulped quietly while the palms of his hands began to sweat his nerves out. Brushing them against the fabric of his pants to try to push off the weight that was holding him down to his seat.

“Ready to meet them?” Fury asked.

At first, Steve thought that he must’ve misheard him but then remembers that there was another Rogers that lived in the terraced with his sister.

Fury opens his doors and Steve did the same with his side. Closing the door as he got out and looks up at the terraced more clearly.

It was a very nice light blue home with white-framed windows with white curtains hanging inside for privacy.

Steve followed Fury as they make their way past the small gates that was standing in front of the house and marched upon the small porch. Fury pressed the doorbell before turning back to Steve.

“You’ll have a day with her. After that, I’ll send someone to pick you up in the evening. Good luck.” He patted his shoulder and left him standing alone on the porch. Speechless.

Steve looked a bit panic and was about to turn to call for Fury to come back but stops himself when the door opened.

“Yes?” A woman’s voice says and Steve was surprised when he turned to see a young Asian woman at the door. Questionable eyes looking at him and waiting for an answer.

“Hello, ma’am.” It was the only way that Steve could start with.”I’m here to see-”

“Steve Rogers.” The woman suddenly said with a small gasp and eyes widened. And it was Steve’s turn to look at her in question when she said his name. Wondering how did she know him?

“Yes, uh. . . how did you-”

“You look a lot like in the pictures that Y/N showed me. Only, you’re a bit more. . . bigger.” She gave him an awkward smile. Feeling a bit intimidated that THE Captain America was standing by the doorstep.

“I’m Doctor Helen Cho.” She greeted formally. “Y/N is currently under my care. Has been for about a year now.”

She offers her hand and Steve takes to handshake as the words ‘doctor’ and ‘care’ came into mind. “So you’re the one who’s been treating my sister?”

“Yes.” Helen answers. “Why don’t you come in.” She opens the door wider and lets the captain. He said his thanks and went inside as Helen closed the door behind him.

Steve took a small time to glance around the interior of the house and felt a homey feeling that radiated from the beige painted walls with family pictures hanging. Some were dated back to the 40′s and the now.

“Follow me.” Helen said as she went and steps up to the stairs in the hall that leads up to the upstairs floor. Not blind to catch the old soldier’s nerves as he lets out a small sigh before following her behind.

Every step he took felt like he was walking knee deep in water and when they got to the floor, Helen gestures him to a door a the end of the hall. “Right over here.”

It only took a few more steps until they reached to the front of the door. Steve held his breath as she knocks on the hardwood.

“Come in.” A frail voice answered from the other side and Steve felt a small trail of goosebumps forming on his arms.

Helen opens the door and pokes her head in. “Hey, look who’s here.”

She opened the door fully and steps aside for the old woman to have a full image of Steve, who was still standing in the hall. He hesitated at first but went in either way.

The first thing he noticed about the room was the floral wallpaper pattern on each wall. A wooden dressing table stands flat back on the wall with numerous medications on it along with some portrait pictures with a small jewelry box by them.

The only decor in the room that was out of place was the noticeable medical monitor and the IV bag and pole standing beside the luscious bed.

And on the bed, was the woman that holds a special in Steve’s heart the second he first held her in arms when she was just a newborn.

“Hey, Stevey.”

Y/N Rogers’s eyes watered as she began to cry in relief when Steve entered the room. Happy that he was alive and well.

As for Steve, he couldn't believe that this gray hair and fragile human was his baby sister. The only thing that didn’t change was the contagious smile that he oh so love very much. That seeing it made him teared up and he waste another second as he goes over to the side of her bed and sat on the chair that was placed there. Taking her hand when she outstretches it to him.

He finally found the strength to smile back to his sister and pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek. And suddenly a pained look slowly formed on his face.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly in regret. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N’s eyes furrowed at him. “For what?”

Steve looks at her, confused. “For everything. . . For leaving you and everyone else-”.

But Y/N shakes her head to him. “No, you didn’t leave. . . You saved me.” She caressed the back of his hand to comfort him. “If you didn’t manage to stop the Valkyrie, everyone that we know in New York, including myself would’ve died from the impact.”

Steve still didn’t understand. “But-”

“But nothing!” Y/N said. “Whatever you’re thinking. Whatever thought that made you so regretful. I want you to know that I forgive you.”

Steve looks at her surprise.

“I forgave you for a long time now. Knowing that holding on to the anger that I had for you would only cloud my judgment to the world. “Y/N held in her sobs and her grip on her brother’s hand tightens. But it wasn’t effective enough seeing as Steve wasn’t bothered by her touch but by her words.

It was his turn to smile in relief and then kissed her hand before saying. “I’m here now, Y/N. I’m here now.”

She hums happily and patted the back of his hand. It was then that she noticed a small figure hiding behind the frame of the door in the hall.

Y/N let out a small chuckle and called out to the little one. “You can come in, Sarah.”

It was the small gasp that took Steve’s attention away from his sister and turns to see what cause such a small noise. At the doorway, there stands a small girl staring at them with hands all fiddling. Curiosity was filled in the child’s eyes as she looks at the stranger that was sitting beside her granny and holding her hand.

“Come in Sarah.” Y/N urges. “There’s someone I liked you to meet.”

The girl hesitated. Not taking her eyes off the man, she quickly went up to her granny at the other side of the bed and jumps on to it until she was fully seated by her grandmother.

Y/N moved to the side a bit to make room for Sarah. When she moves around a bit to find a comfy position, she turns to Sarah and said. “Sarah, this my brother. Steve. You're great-uncle.”

Steve would’ve laughed at the title if he wasn’t still so the shock of how Sarah looks so much like Y/N when she was at her age.

He distinctly remembered that the last time when he saw Y/N was when she had turned ten. Sarah looked about the same age as her grandmother when Steve left her to go and fight in the fields with the Howling Commandos. He also remembered the many letters that he wrote to her as well the teasing comments that he got from the fellas when they thought that he got a gal back at home.

They weren’t wrong.

“Hi.” Steve said to the little and she only smiled shyly and gave him a little wave.

“Hello.” She managed out and looks back at her grandmother to whisper her something by her ear.

“He’s your brother?”

Y/N smile. “Yes.”

“But why isn’t he old like you?” Sarah whispered again and Y/N only chuckles at her granddaughter’s question. And judging by Steve’s amused look. He definitely heard his grand-niece and wasn’t bothered by the question.

“It’s a long story, Sarah.” Y/N said. “But for now, why don’t you go and see if Helen needs help in the kitchen.”

“Okay, Granny.” Sarah then jumps down from the bed and runs out of the room.

Y/N and Steve both smiled at the child’s behavior

“A lot like me isn’t she?” Y/N said.

Steve held back a laugh. “Scary.” And they both laughed.

They both had a lot of time in the room. Catching up the times that Steve had missed. And occasionally he would tell him a bit of his time in the fields and stories about his war pals. Y/N even told him about the ridiculous behavior his Howling Commandos had whenever she would go on a date with a boy. Steve didn’t whether to laugh or be proud by the job that his commandoes filled in when he wasn't there to be the overprotective brother like should’ve been.

And what’s more touching is that Y/N had asked Steve to go to her bookshelf and take out a book. Before he could ask which one, his eyes landed on one peculiar one. ‘The Hobbit’. Her favorite bedtime story. He then vaguely remembers about what he said on the Valkyrie. ‘Tell her I’ll read her her favorite when I come home.’ which was the book he was holding now. He looks at her with tears and she just nodded. So Steve got comfortable beside her bed and began to read the first chapter.

He tried everything in his power to remember the smile as Y/N laughed and talked about how iconic the book had become and how Sarah was also an admirer of the novel. Not wanting to forget it until the time of her lifespan was suddenly gone. And when it did. He almost forgot it. After the Chitauri war in New York. Y/N’s heart just gave up, during the day before she could even take her afternoon nap. The funeral was lovely, and shockingly, Tony Stark appeared beside the family. As his title as the godson of one of SHIELD’s greatest agents in history.

Steve was still surprised that Howard made Y/N the godmother of Tony. When they met at the Hellcarrier, Tony did mention that Y/N, along with his mother, were the only ones that gave actually damn about him instead of his own father. Who would bragged to him about how ‘great’ Steve Rogers was.

But it didn’t matter. What only matters now, was to give a eulogy as Y/N written in her recent will.

The church was filled with old veterans, retired agents, as well as other people who had their hearts touched by Y/N. Peggy would’ve been there too if it weren’t for her alzheimer’s.

After Steve was done, the priest asked if there was anyone that would like to say a few words.

Surprisingly, Tony stood up and brought out a small folded paper from his pocket. When he got behind the podium. He cleared his throat.

“Hi, I’m Tony.” He started off. “I’m Y/N’s Godson-Well. . . was.” He faltered.

“Growing up, my father became the person he was ‘till he dying breath. A failure of a father.”

Steve grimaced at the words. He was certain that Howard would someday change but failed to acknowledge how good of a father Howard would become. Tony became that living result.

“Despite being a genius. I still have trouble coping with the world. My father was too busy to acknowledge the importance of teaching me how to catch, how to talk to girls, and most of all, how to be a human being. Y/N Rogers had the interest to fill in that role.”

Though no one could see, behind the podium Tony had his hand clutched tightly into a fist to maintain himself.

"She made me the person I am today. She is the quarter of why I shut down the weapons manufacturing division from my company. And she was. . . she was human. And I guess that's the only way that you can describe Y/N. She was human. And she was loved. I guess we can never stop loving someone who had left an incredible mark in someone else's life. And I know that she wouldn't want me to stop caring the world, otherwise, I know that she would kill me if I did."

A few chuckles were heard around the church. Even Steve managed to smile at the comment. But a few silent sobs were heard from the back of the room.

“Y/N, we’ll miss you. . . I’ll miss you.” Tony had a slightly lost look on his face for a second and then clears his throat. “Thank you.”

With that, Tony got off the stage and went back to his seat beside Sarah and Steve.

“Thank you.” Steve said solemnly and quietly to him.

“Thought I should get it over it,” Tony said. “I would’ve regretted it if I didn’t.”

“She would be proud of you.” Steve added.

“She is.” A small voice interrupted them and they both look down at the child sitting between them. “She told me so.”

Tony blinks at the girl then stares off back to the casket. “Thanks, kid.”

“Your welcome Uncle Tony.”

Tony would’ve normally told Sarah to not to call him ‘Uncle Tony’. But just for today, he let it slide.

Once the service was done. Everyone stood up and waited for Steve and the other veterans who were picked to be the pallbearers carried the casket out of the church and the crowd followed behind them in a slow marching pace. All the way to the large burial ground behind the church.

When they set the casket inside the large hole, white roses were passed to everyone. And one by one, they dropped it on top of the casket while whispering their final goodbyes.

The last to place their rose was Steve. And when he let go of the rose into the hole. Everyone was beginning to leave. And as the time passed, the only ones who were left standing by the now finished grave, was Steve, Sarah, Tony, and Helen.

Helen was only there mostly for Sarah’s benefit. She had grown very close to the young child that she didn’t have the heart to leave her alone with Steve.

Beside her, Helen decides to break the ice and started whispering a certain situation with Tony.

“You know, lawfully speaking since you are Sarah’s godfather. There’s a possibility that she could be wind up being in under your care.”

It was true. Since Tony and Dahlia had known each other from Y/N. Dahlia made Tony the godfather of her only child. Knowing that even before he was Iron Man and his conscience had finally kicked in. She trusted Tony enough to be the godfather. Much to her husband’s dismay.

Not paying attention to the whispers behind him. Steve suddenly felt a small human hand enclosing itself with his own. He looks down and sees Sarah looking up at him. Sending him a small smile, trying to comfort him in the best way she can.

“We should probably go. Granny doesn’t like it if anyone stays in the cold too much. You could get sick.”

It had begun to get cold. The clouds in the sky indicated that it was going to rain soon and the winds brushing against them was getting colder by the minute they stood there.

So with an exhaled breath, Steve nods at his niece’s small proclaim before clearing his throat. “Okay, let’s go.” He gave her a somewhat convincing smile and gently firmed his grip on to her hand. Carefully not to hurt it and they began to walk away from the gravestone. Mentioning Helen to follow them since she was their ride.

Tony watches as Steve helps Sarah into Helen’s car. Helen’s words were repeating in his head.

Under your care.

“No,” Tony thoughts. “They need each other. . . it’s what she would’ve wanted it.”

And it was indeed.

=============================================================

Hey! So I hope you like the story. And just to let you know, I’m thinking of making it into a Wattpad fanfic book. So let me know on the comments below. And I will try my best to upload it as soon as possible. And of course, there will be a pairing but it’s going to be a very slow-burn pairing between Sarah and a certain hero in blue spandex.

Thank you for taking your time to read my imagine and my message.

Mahal kita!!!!!

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marvelousbirthdays · 6 years

Text

Happy Birthday, mayasha-chan!

November 17 - Tony Stark & Peter Parker father-son bonding fic - maybe with Soulmate marks of a Family kind of bond? But if that's too difficult or doesn't work at all then don't worry about it. Maybe with the prompt "Let me keep that promise." or "I have forgotten everything I've ever learned." for @mayasha-chan

Written by @iamartemisday - apologies for the late posting!

Tony knew something was bugging Peter. A big something. A something which threatened to get his head knocked off if he fought a real battle the way he was training.

At first, he wasn’t going to ask. Heart-to-hearts weren’t really his strong suit. He dealt with his problems by telling bad jokes, building more suits, or drinking. Granted, that last one wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism and one could make the case that holing up in his lab for two months perfecting nanotech was also questionable.

(Which they’d be wrong about because his nanotech was awesome, but that was beside the point.)

It got really bad after lunch. Tony brought out an upgraded drone made with a web dissolving alloy of his own creation. This should’ve been a perfect opportunity for Peter to hone his hand-to-hand skills. Instead, he was backed into a corner, shooting webs futilely like he wasn’t literally the third strongest member of the team.

“Okay, cut! Pack it in, guys. We’re taking ten.”

At Tony’s command, FRIDAY sounded the alarm and the drone went offline. Peter kept his head tucked under his arm, shivering slightly. Tony thought the kid might be crying until he lifted his head and his eyes were thankfully dry.

“So,” Tony said, assuming a more casual ‘we’re just two buds having a chat over beer except not because you’re underage’ stance. It would’ve been easier without the armor. “You wanna tell me what’s up?”

Peter coughed. “Nothing’s up. Just having an off day.”

“Yeah, off days aren’t really a thing when you’re out hero-ing.” Tony helped him to his feet. “Not unless you want to get your ass kicked six ways to Sunday. So let’s try that again. What’s eating you?”

“Nothing,” he said, which was totally more convincing the second time around. “I just…”

“Just what?” Tony led him out of the ring into the washroom. They were on their own today as the rest of the team was off doing their own thing. Gave them plenty of time to hopefully not have an emotional heart-to-heart he wasn’t prepared for.

“Today is…” Peter drew a shaky breath. “My uncle, he… died today, It’s the anniversary, and I guess I just… I don’t know.”

“You miss him?”

“Well, yeah. All the time,” said Peter. “I mean, not all the time all the time, but-”

“No, no, I get it.” Tony patted his shoulder. This was definitely going into heart-to-heart territory, but he was already in too deep. No backing out now. “What was he, your inspiration? The one who put you on the path to stardom?”

“I’m not a star.”

“It’s 2018, kid. Youtube counts.” Tony gave him another clap on the arm, which in retrospect, probably would’ve been better if he took the suit off first. “So uh… how long’s it been? A year?”

“Two years.” Peter sighed. “It happened around when the spider thing happened.”

“He knew about that?”

“Are you kidding? No way. He would’ve freaked worse than May, and she really really freaked when she found out.”

“Yes, I do recall.” One day he got a random call to Peter’s house and May Parker punched him the second he walked in the door. Then Peter was grounded for two months and Tony never found out exactly how that whole situation ended, but Peter was back on patrol once he served out his punishment and May regularly called him to ask about her nephew’s progress.

Come to think about it, she’d been pretty somber that day when Tony was picking Peter up. Here he thought she was just mad that Pete got an A- on his last history test. God he really sucked sometimes.

“Ben was kind of… you know that thing dads do when they sit you down and give you that whole speech like ‘you’re becoming a man now and men have responsibilities.’”

“Sure do,” Tony said, even though Howard Stark’s version of that speech was giving him a room full of scrap metal, letting him go crazy, and then sending him to boarding school.

“He used to talk about that a lot. He always thought I’d be a doctor or a scientist and I’d help a lot of people. He really believed in me, and sometimes, I wonder if I can live up to all that.”

“You’re doing a good job so far,” Tony said. “You’re what now, fifteen?”

“Sixteen.”

“Okay, you know what I was doing at sixteen?”

“Building robots at MIT?”

Tony paused. “Well yeah, but… I mean, look at you! You’ve helped save the world a bunch of times and you can’t even drive yet. I was out getting drunk when I was your age. Your uncle probably was, too.”

“He didn’t drink.”

“He didn’t save the world either.” Tony smiled at Peter the way he always wished Howard would smile at him. “I’m not much of a believer in white puffy cloud heaven, but if it’s real, I bet he’s looking down on you right now and he’s really proud. I’m really proud of you, too.”

Peter’s face brightened, sending a wave of relief though Tony. For a minute there, he really thought they were on the verge of waterworks.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. That means a lot.”

“I know.” Tony stood up and stretched as his armor receded, leaving him in his plainclothes. “Okay, I think that was suitably heartwarming. How about we skip training and go get a burger?”

“I can keep going.” Peter fumbled with his mask until Tony snatched it out of his hands.

“Hey there Mr. Super Reflexes, why didn’t you stop me?” Tony waved the mask mockingly in Peter’s face. “You need a break. We can pick up where we left off tomorrow. For now, burgers.”

He walked Peter out of the training room, the two of them debating which burger joint they should hit up. It was nice just talking to someone without the fate of the universe hanging in the balance. Tony might have to amend his opinion on cheesy heart-to-hearts.

#Tony Stark #Peter Parker #Iron Dad

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reylothiccficcs-blog · 5 years

Text

Reylo Hogwarts AUs

Sixth year by Ever9437 (M)

Completed? Yes.

Word Count? 107,070

This was supposed to be Rey Kenobi’s perfect year at Hogwarts: Ravenclaw prefect, seeker, all N.E.W.T classes, and lots of spare time to hang out with her friends Finn and Poe. That is, until she’s paired up in Potions class with arrogant Slytherin Ben Solo, nephew of the school’s headmaster Luke Skywalker and best-friend to her mortal enemy. With an overload of homework, strained friendships, and a new dark-haired distraction, Rey is in for a stressful school-year like no other.

Nocturnal Studies And Other Peculiar Magic by WaterlilyRose (E)

Completed? Yes.

Word Count? 37,256

Hogwarts was the first home Rey ever had. Now she has a chance to return as a grown woman to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

She cannot tolerate the Potions Master and former Death Eater that she duelled and scarred so many years ago. Yet unity must be upheld.

Gryffindor and Slytherin will unite in ways never before.

If You Win This by gr8_rach (T)

Completed? Yes.

Word Count? 2,860

“Let’s play some sodding Quidditch already—I mean, honestly if we sit here waiting for Rey and Ben to f—” BB’s loud gasp covered the terribly obscene word, “—we’ll all die of old age!”

The Last Hog at Hogwarts by mylevelance (G)

Completed? Yes.

Word Count? 14,180

Rey is attacked by death eaters out in the open and Finn (kind of) saves her. Her life changes forever when he brings her to Hogwarts to (kind of) hone her natural skill. Ben Solo (kind of) tries to hate this scrappy girl from a home so different from his own. Finn (kind of) keeps his feelings for Poe quiet. Rose is (kind of) a teenage fairy godmother. When it comes to Ben, Rey needs a little help from her friends. Kind of.

Tell me, Atlas by DeathStarryNight (M)

Completed? No.

Word Count? 16,906

Rey is a Hufflepuff. Ben is a Slytherin. Everyone knows they hate each other. Who could not, when they're always spitting acid in the hallways? But sixth year dawns darker than ever before. With the new threat of Snoke looming in the background, Rey and Ben find themselves paired as unlikely partners and Rey suddenly realizes that there might be more to Ben Solo than she originally thought. As the Death Eaters call, will it be enough to turn him away from the dark side before it's too late?

Tell me, Atlas, what is heavier: the world or its people's hearts?

Nominis by Oh_Snapcrackle (E)

Completed? No.

Word Count? 14,592

He must feel her gaze because it doesn’t take long before one of his eyes slowly cracks open. There is a twinkle to it, a little hint of mischief that makes her stomach somersault.

“Solo, close those eyes. Remember what we discussed about meditation.”

Ben’s smile falters. A flash of anger ignites in his eye, and it’s so different from the warmth she saw a second before. She watches as his hands ball into fists and his jaw clenches.

All of this because his uncle spoke to him?

She shuts her eyes, knowing Skywalker is sure to look at her next.

“And you, too, Miss Niima. Don’t let my nephew derail your practice.”

He has a reputation. It’s not a good one.

When Professor Skywalker partners Rey with the notorious Ben Solo for occulmency lessons, something goes wrong (or very right) and now their minds are bridged. Between sharing thoughts, inconvenient astral projections, and bedsharing Rey starts to learn that while Ben Solo deserves the reputation he has built, he also deserves the opportunity to change.

AKA: The force bond Harry Potter style.

Unwritten Oaths by reylocalligraphy (T)

Completed? No.

Word Count? 35,247

“I'd rather be dead than ever stuck in a room with Ben Solo,” Rey hissed.

Six years later, Head Girl Rey Johnson finds herself stuck sharing dormitories, meetings, a bathroom, and a hell of a lot more with Head Boy Ben Solo, her sworn enemy at Hogwarts. She discovers that her eleven-year-old self was quite wrong - in fact, she’d actually love to be stuck in a room with Ben Solo.

If only Ben wasn’t such a stuck-up, scruffy-looking nerfherder every time he opened his mouth… and that damn school-wide fan club of his would stop following him everywhere…

Floricorpse by nite0wl29 (G)

Completed? Yes.

Word Count? 2,118

Never ask what could go wrong on Halloween in Transfiguration class. Ben and Rey are about to find out first hand.

Rey and Her Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Year by Bakubitch (T)

Completed? Yes.

Word Count? 52,756

Rey is eleven when her dreams come true and the Sorting Hat calls out “Gryffindor!”

Or: The Reylo Hogwarts AU no one asked for.

To: Professor Rey Niima's Husband by kuresoto (T)

Completed? Yes.

Word Count? 1,749

There are a few rumors going around in Hogwarts.

Spiraling Steam and Broomstick Wood by jitterygummy (T)

Completed? Yes.

Word Count? 30,716

Sixth year Hogwarts student Rey is focused on winning the next Quidditch match, but while brewing amortentia, she realizes she has feelings for rival player Ben Solo.

The ORDER of ASTER by violetskies (rainingiris) (M)

Completed? Yes.

Word Count? 4,040

Five years after the Third Great Wizarding War, Rey Niima enters the public spotlight and attends the Memorial Ball. She clings to her best friends as she is forced to hear speeches about the Rogues, Leia, and Han from people who never knew them. She cringes when the reporters harass the guests of honor. Poe is an auror and a brilliant one at that. Finn works in the Ministry to promote Civil Rights. Rose is a leading botanist. Yet no one asks about those things. Let the past die. Poe clenches his fists when they sneer his name. Finn makes a valiant attempt to change the subject. Rose holds Rey’s hand and urges the brunette witch to leave. Rey can’t keep running away. Let the past die. Those words ram into Rey’s mind. She wants to forget about that horrible night. About the stench of death. About the blood on her hands. About the dull brown eyes. Those eyes that haunt her every nightmare. Let the past die. Rey finds that she can’t. And she is not the only one.

Chaos reigned. by Orlaith (M)

Completed? Yes.

Word Count? 13,142

“You leave me no choice but to take points,” Professor Calrissian said. “Fifty points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin,” he stated.

“And a month’s worth of detention.”

Rey’s eyes darted to the end of the corridor. Students parted and the head of Gryffindor, the Transfiguration professor, and Ben Solo’s father now stood in front of the pair. Rey looked at the ground. She had no problem getting in trouble, in fact she frequented it. But disappointing Han was too much for her.

“Ben. Rey.” The man tried to make eye contact, but both avoided his gaze. This is ridiculous.”

The girl stood there with her green hair, and the boy with his Dumbo ears, stewing in their anger.

Rey raised her eyes only to glare at Ben, and she found the same look mirrored in his eyes.

Limerence by Lenti (G)

Completed? Yes.

Word Count? 3,043

The saying “opposites attract" is a popular wisdom in all universes. And, who could be greater polar opposites but a Slytherin and Gryffindor?

#reylo #hogwarts au #harry potter #harry potter au #rey x ben solo #rey x kylo ren #reylo fanfic #hogwarts

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altean-plance-au · 6 years

Note

What was the moment Lance realized he had feelings for Pidge ?

Sorry for the very delayed answer. I figured it would be better if I wrote the thing. The previous chapters to the New Assignment arc and others can be found here.

~~~~~~

The situation was lose - win - win.

Lance wasn’t going to get to go to the Groggerian Gala. It was an opportunity missed to soak in the elegant party atmospheric and expand his ever growing social network. He would also miss seeing Allura, who would be looking even more radiant than usual. (Difficult because she was always beautiful.) He saw her most every day now thanks to being attached at the hip to Pidge, but still mentally slapped himself for thinking it wasn’t that big of a loss.

A win, in that he had the night off, as much as a personal bodyguard to a princess a guy could have. Pidge had been fighting a twenty varga bug and was in no shape to be attending social functions, even an important annual one.

Pidge was spending the night in her room under the careful watch of her mother, who had insisted on some treasured mother - daughter bonding. Colleen was a skilled medic, so Lance had no problem being outranked for that decision. If it had been just him, he probably would have been able to keep her fever down with his magic. Pidge likely would have insisted on it so he could keep practicing. Pidge was in better hands this way though, so he didn’t mind spending the evening in his own room. (Adjacent to Pidge’s as he was always on call.) This would be an evening of self care.

He also suspected Colleen hated fancy parties about as much as Pidge did. It wasn’t so much the dressing up that annoyed Pidge, but rather the socialization. There were a select few nobles who didn’t care for how close Sam and his family were to the Crown, and they were not above making Pidge’s life miserable in whatever petty way they could. Lance ran interference - distracting Pidge by engaging in whatever conversation he could think of. She seemed to brighten up usually at that, and her genuine smile was much prettier than her fake one.

Lance froze mid step, his brows furrowed at the use of the particular adjective. Yes, pretty was the right word. Pidge was objectively very pretty. Smiles were always pretty.

He felt his cheeks flush. It wasn’t from the long, hot bath he’d just emerged from. He shouldn’t be thinking such things. Pidge was his charge. His job was to protect her, that was it.

It was too late for that though, they were already friends. Had they met under non-professional circumstances, it was likely they would still be near inseparable.

Pidge was endlessly fascinated with his magic, a trait that allowed him to experiment with it more than he ever would have by himself. He in turn loved watching the beautiful displays she put on with her plants, making maneuvers and feats seem effortless while she insisted on still being a novice. Lance felt like he knew her immediate family near as well as his own, and even the uneventful days passed quickly with her company as they puzzled over the drone.

Reminded of his reason for getting out of his bath, Lance pushed the thoughts of Pidge to the back of his mind and snatched a tablet he had left on the end of his bed. He plopped down into the mass of pillows and blankets. Adjusting his gold trimmed blue nightgown, he opened a video call, a wide smile on his own face.

He would never give up a free opportunity to call home.

His mother picked up shortly, the tips of her own mouth growing outward upon seeing her son’s face. “Lance, what a wonderful surprise! I thought you would be working tonight.”

As one of many grocers to the Castle, she was home on the family farm to oversee the planting and harvest of the crops. Even though he would be able to see her regularly during the winter months, the summer still felt too long.

“Hi Mom, love you too,” he chuckled. One side of his mouth curled up, half happy to see his mother and half sad at the reason why. “Pidge is sick, so I’m free tonight.”

She frowned, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Is it the twenty varga bug? We took Veronica in to see the doctor yesterday. It’s been going around in town, and now it’s going around the house.”

Lance grimaced. “Is she okay?”

“Nearly back to full strength now,” his mother assured him. “Fluids and rest did wonders. I’m sure Pidge will be fine too by morning. You tell her hello for me.”

“I will Mom,” Lance recited lovingly. “She says ‘hi’ back from the last time we talked.”

“When are you bringing her to the house?”

Lance laughed. “Mom, I’m her bodyguard, not her date.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Could have fooled me. She is all you ever talk about when you call.”

“Because that’s my job,” he explained, exasperated by the direction of the conversation.

“It is not part of your job to talk about the way she uses her magic, the morning skin routine you made for her - you talk about her more than yourself. She may as well be part of the family with how much I know about her.”

Lance felt the blush come back as his back slowly slid down from the headrest to the mattress. Quiznak what was he doing?

“Okay, I think I get the point. Pidge is a good friend, and I’m not ready for any serious romance.”

His mother regarded him with a pitying expression, though for what he didn’t dare ask her to clarify. “All the more reason to bring her out to the farm. She would have so much joy seeing everything we grow here.”

Lance smiled again. She was right. Pidge would have a field day with all the different fruits, vegetables, and grains his family grew. He wondered what her magic would make of them. “I’ll ask. No promises though. We’re both really busy.”

She gave him a kind and cherishing smile. “Of course.”

They proceeded in idle chat for the better part of the evening. How was the rest of the family? (All his siblings stopped to say hello.) His young niece and nephew both were up past their bedtime, and would not go back to bed until they had heard a story from life at the Castle. Lance told them how Pidge was going to control a whole forest one day, and that their dear uncle was well on his way to becoming the most famous knight on Altea.

Once bidding his family good night, he switched off his tablet and set it on the nightstand. He got up and arched his back with a grimace, he’d not been sitting well during the long call.

Lance knocked on the door between his room and Pidge’s. Colleen answered, and neither of them needed anything. Pidge was on the recovery. She might be a bit groggier than usual in the morning, but would likely be herself by the afternoon.

Lance nodded, told her good night and the obligatory ‘wake me if you need anything’. He left the door closed, but unlocked, and tucked himself into bed.

He dreamt of Pidge. And himself. Together. Romantically.

Lance awoke hours before sunrise, his mother’s words echoing in his mind as he lay under the covers. That pretty smile. Pidge’s was infectious. Just thinking about it filled his chest with a warmth normally reserved for the fondest of memories. He thought to all the times thrived on making her happy, to see that smile. He wondered if she would be happy sharing a kiss with him. He envisioned her confident smirk softening as they embraced, soft lips on his own -

This was bad. Friendship was one thing, but romantic feelings was an entire can of miniature weblums Lance did not want to open. He hadn’t lied to his mother but… what if this was it? His soulmate? What if Pidge didn’t feel the same way? What if he was wrong? That would make their professional relationship more than awkward.

He had until the afternoon to figure out what to do about it.

~~~~

“I quit.” A tablet containing the necessary transfer request form fell onto the desk with a thud.

Shiro’s jaw dropped, which would have been the most amusing thing if Lance hadn’t been so serious.

“Denied,” the Captain said seriously once he’d gathered his wits. He placed the tablet off to the side and cupped his hands on the desk in front of him. “Why?”

Lance sputtered, the response not what he had expected. “You can’t refuse me when I quit.”

“I can if it’s out of nowhere for no reason. You’re still under my command. Why?” he repeated.

A fake answer wouldn’t work. Shiro would know. Lance sighed with a frown, but then straightened up at attention. “I think I have romantic feelings for the Princess, Sir.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “I think the whole Castle knows about your crush on Allura.”

Lance’s straight face faltered. “Pidge.”

“…Pidge,” Shiro repeated slowly, face showing slow comprehension. “You think you have romantic feelings for Pidge.”

“Yes,” Lance agreed earnestly. “I’d like to stay at the Castle, I just want a reassignment. I can’t be Pidge’s bodyguard like this.”

He was already breaking social etiquette by hiding his powers, he couldn’t break another taboo.

Shiro sat back in his chair and considered, his sharp eyes burrowing as far as they could into Lance’s soul.

“The answer is still no,” Shiro finally told him, turning his attention back to his desk work. He grabbed the tablet with the transfer request and officially signed off to reject it. “I’ll do you a favor and not tell anyone you tried to quit.”

Lance’s eyes bulged. “You can’t!” He begged passionately. “I can’t be objective. It will drive me insane if I can’t say anything.”

“Talk to Pidge about it.”

“Talk to - Shiro do you know what you’re saying? If I do say something, what - what if she doesn’t feel the same?” Lance asked incredulously. “That would make things really awkward.”

“Look, Lance,” Shiro sighed and once again lay the tablet aside. He stood up and walked over to face his subordinate. “You’ve made a friend in the guardian of the lake, I trust your judgement,” he said compassionately. “That’s part of why I gave you this assignment in the first place. Your heart often works over your brain,” he placed his prosthetic hand over his own heart and then pointed to his head, “and that’s something that Pidge needs. Someone who is flexible and lets her breathe by not always following code to the letter. I really hate to transfer you when things are going so well.”

Lance shifted nervously, not this uncomfortable since his first day at training. “I can’t stop thinking about it, Shiro. I’ve never felt this way before. This isn’t something bodyguards are supposed to do.”

Shiro gave him a wry grin. “There are no rules against bonds of this kind between nobles - yes I’ve read your file and I know - so just do what comes naturally. If it becomes awkward, well, then we can talk. Until then though, I’m not letting you quit ”

Lance dropped his unvoiced protest and slumped his shoulders. “It’s really okay?”

Shiro gave him an encouraging smile. “I knew there was a slight chance something like this might happen. I wouldn’t have paired the two of you if I didn’t think you wouldn’t at least become close friends.”

Receiving the blessing, Lance finally smiled. “Didn’t you go through a full regiment before putting me on the job?”

He was given a glare for his troubles. “Back to work, Lieutenant.”

~~~~~

“Urgh, this place is a mess! I can’t believe I did all this while I was sick!”

Lance sat with an amused grin, chin propped up by the palm of his hand as he watched Pidge magically move overgrown plants back to their respective homes within her room.

She focused her magic on a juniberry flower the size of a pillow, trying to revert it back to a normal size. Even as the volume of plants decreased in the room, leaves and petals fell off and remained scattered across the floor. “It looks like the forest itself is in here,” Pidge moaned.

She was even more cute when flustered, Lance regretted thinking. Pidge had no idea of his internal dilemma and Lance intended to keep it that way at least for now.

This was different from his previous infatuations. Pidge had been a friend first and foremost after being his boss. Before telling her anything he wanted to be absolutely certain his feelings were genuine. If he was not sincere, his job and friendship would be ruined simultaneously. Shiro thought he was doing a good job, he didn’t want to betray that trust out of a false alarm.

“They wouldn’t have grown if you didn’t want them to,” he told her with a smirk. “Your mother was not happy that you were practicing magic while sick.”

Pidge glared at him. She collected the now much smaller flower and replanted it in it’s previously tipped over pot. “What about you? Did you do your exercises last night like I told you to?”

“I had other things on my mind,” he said neutrally. “Mom says hi by the way.”

“Oh,” Pidge said, anger quickly deflating. “Next time I promise to say hi to her myself.”

“The offer to visit the farm is still on the table,” he said.

“Not without knowing who is behind the drone,” she said resolutely. “I don’t want to get your family involved in this.”

Lance let the statement hang and Pidge went back to work. She cared so much, so passionately, and always finished what she set her mind to. It was inspiring, even if he couldn’t follow her talk on a tech level. Thanks to her tutelage, he was beginning to on a magical level.

He had a feeling this was a bond that was going to be near impossible to break. The only way to know was to ask. He just needed to find the perfect moment.

“Hey, let me try and help,” he said as he stood. “I can put my magic prowess to the test.”

Pidge put her hands on her hips, intrigued but not convinced. “What are you going to do to clean this up with water and ice?”

Lance grinned and summoned his magical energy to the surface. He reached out to a teapot full of water, slightly more volume than what he had been used to working with. Thanks to the more consistent practice, he found it easier to connect with than a small amount in a glass cup.

He bade the water to spread across the surface of the floor, picking up stray leaves as it moved the length of the room. Reaching the end, Lance stuck his tongue out in concentration and mimicked some hand movements he’d watched Pidge perform hundreds of times now. He rolled his wrists counterclockwise to the pale blue ball of light centered between his palms and the water filled with leaves and stems responded in kind. It swirled up into a ball and he moved it closer to Pidge so she could see the feat in its fully glory.

Lance turned to Pidge with a smirk. “They are all yours, Princess. Where would you like them?”

Pidge blinked rapidly at his words, as if she had been in a trance. Lance swelled with pride that he had done something impressive. Perhaps this would be a good time to approach her regarding his newfound feelings for her, at least she would look on him more favorably than normal, hopefully leading to a more positive result.

He soon mirrored her sudden frown as Pidge summoned her magic in equal measure.

“I’ll take them from here,” she said, gaining a smirk, that confident smirk that made Lance’s heart skip a beat. A light green energy outlined each plant part and one by one they floated magically into a giant bag, ready to be taken out for decomposition.

Lance found it was his turn to gape. “How did you do that? Those are dead parts! I thought you had to ask plants for permission?”

Finished, Pidge regarded him with a smirk. “It takes more energy and concentration. You’ve seen me play with leaves before.”

“Yes, but - “

Lance didn’t get a chance to finish as he lost his own concentration, sending his sphere of warm water all over Pidge.

Pidge stood in astonishment, raising her arms stiffly in disbelief as the fabric of her dress clung closer to her and water dripped from her sleeves. She glared at him. “I hope you have the energy to pick all of that up.”

Lance bit his lip. The outward manifestation of his magic flickered to nothingness and he grinned at her sheepishly, twiddling his thumbs.

Perhaps this was not the right time to have a conversation about their relationship.

#altean plance au #vld lance #vld pidge #plance #pidgeance #vld fanfic #cursedunicornofeast #adminrue

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