#'mama we are in a library; for once you must allow me to look at a book' 😂😂😂

[belladonnaprice]

.

[winnie-the-monster]

“No more talk of books.”

“Mama, we are in a library. For once you must allow me to look at a book.”

😂 can we please stop trying to take books away from Pen.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Until the death us parts

Assassin!Sihtric x Templar!reader

Authors note: This is a fic for @little-diable 15K celebration. It's the first time I dive into another universe, but unusual tasks require unusual solutions. Thank you so much @st-eve-barnes for brainstorming with me!

The rules: " (..) I'll choose one of the books listed above and will select a sentence I can find on the page belonging to the number you've chosen for your ask. You can do with the sentence/quote as you please, but it has to show up in the fic."

My sentence: “We do it wrong, being so majestical, to offer it the show of violence, for it is as the air, invulnerable, and our vain blows malicious mockery.” From Hamlet by William Shakespeare.

Warnings: mention of violence, angst, SMUT, 18+. Assassins Creed is used only as a background setting without exploring any further.

Word Count: 4,6K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

It must be late in the evening already, there is no way of telling for sure, as the small laboratory-like room with featureless walls, painted a stark white, has no windows, but you feel your stomach growling and that is a sure sign. Your eyes keep drifting to the other side of the room. The light from the flickering fluorescent lamp at the ceiling is feeble, but it is enough to make out Sihtric's features pretty clearly. He's still asleep on what looks like a surgery table, wrists and ankles strapped down.

You have failed. For the first time in your life you have failed your mission and that has brought you here in this damn cell together with the one and single reason for your failure. If someone had told you that you'd fall for your target, you'd have laughed right in their face. But here you are, still trying to wrap your head around it. It was so unexpected, this whole thing. Sihtric was different. Kind. Gentle. Warm. For the first time in your whole life, someone had cared about you without wanting anything back. 

You feel anger slowly spreading within you, pulsing through your veins and making your cheeks blush. But it's not directed at him; it's aimed squarely at yourself. You should have come clean earlier, but fear of losing him held you back. For once in your life, you craved a brief taste of normality – being in love with a charming, handsome Dane, just a normal gay from next door, whose only flaws were fondness for crazy haircuts. How foolish! Deep down, you knew it couldn't last. You knew who he was far too well. You knew why the Order had set you on him. You just hoped you had a bit more time… Now it's all over anyway.

—---------------------------------------------

It's just an ordinary autumn day, kind of gray and windy, and there's this soothing sound of rain hitting your umbrella as you walk up the library stairs. You love your new job although it is not that new anymore. It served your purpose and allowed you to sneak into Sihtric’s life without raising any suspicion. He was a frequent guest there for his love of the books and you were the new and pretty librarian - what a perfect setting. 

For you, books have always been more than just bound paper; they are portals to other worlds. Each time you open one, it feels like you're stepping into a world where magic is real, and heroes are fighting the good fight. These stories are your happy place, where you can dive into adventures where anything can happen, where the little guy wins, and the good always beats the bad. You've always wanted to be like those heroes in the stories. You kind of convinced yourself that you were, but lately, it's been harder to keep believing that.

You love the library's peaceful vibe, a place of calm and age-old wisdom. The dim, gentle light streaming through tall windows bathes the bookshelves in a warm glow, and the hushed murmurs of readers add to the tranquil ambiance. It's like a sanctuary free from the strictures of any creed, a testament to free will and creativity – ironically, the very things you're trained to suppress and eliminate. 

Why? It’s a question that does not let go of you lately. You repeat the mantra ingrained in you during your training – to protect the innocent, to end violence – but doubts linger. Can violence really put an end to violence? It’s not that easy, you snarl at yourself. Yet, this nagging inner voice has only grown louder since Sihtric came into your life, challenging your beliefs with such force that at times it's overwhelming. Sometimes you can’t stand it anymore, you lock yourself up in the bathroom, open the shower and cry biting your fist to the blood.

You are so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even notice the figure that accidentally collides with you just as you reach the top of the stairs. 

"Oops, sorry!" someone blurts out, but before you get a chance to reply, the stranger has already vanished into the throng of students at the entrance. You're left with a strange, uneasy feeling in your stomach. Instinctively, your hand reaches into your pocket and there it is – a small, folded note that makes your face turn pale as you clutch the door handle for support.

“PR275 4 A7 H3 

P19, L160 

2 28 5 19 14 10 20 6 13”

You don't even need to read it to know what it means, yet you find yourself dashing through the spacious corridors, coat flapping open, scarf still wound around your neck, trailing in the air. Your heart pounds in your chest, the blood roars in your ears. The sound of your shoes slapping against the polished wooden floor is stark against the library's usual quiet. You cling to hope. Until you haven’t deciphered it, there is still hope, you try to convince yourself, even though deep down, you know it's a vain hope.

"Hey, slow down! What's the matter?" comes the concerned voice of your boss from the office on the left.

You barrel past her, not stopping or even glancing back. You don’t care. You know this place so well, every corner and crevice, it propels you forward, guiding you even as your thoughts whirl in chaos. "PR" - that's English literature, located at the far end of the corridor. The code refers to the English Renaissance period, 1500-1640. You head for the first aisle on the left, bookcase 4, shelf 7, third book. It has to be there.

The warmth in the library is suffocating. Sweat beads on your forehead as you hurriedly unbutton your coat and fling it to the ground, the scarf landing atop it in a heap. You're breathing hard, a mix of exertion and sheer anxiety, as your eyes dart over the book titles, scanning spine after spine for the one that holds your fate. Finally, your shaking hands grasp the book - William Shakespeare's "Hamlet."

"Come on, hurry up," you mutter to yourself. Page nineteen, line 160. 

“We do it wrong, being so majestical, to offer it the show of violence, for it is as the air, invulnerable, and our vain blows malicious mockery,” you read the line out loud without realizing it, quickly moving to the nearest table to grab a pen. 

You unfold the small piece of paper and start counting:  one, two, it’s “e”. One, two, three… twenty seven, twenty eight - “l”. One, two, three, four, five - “i”. Your heart pounds as if desperate to break free from your chest. But there's no need to go further; you know what it spells. Yet, you can't stop, you keep counting and writing down letter after letter. You need to be sure. Your fingers tremble as they slide over the paper: "e", "l", "i", "m", "i", "n", "a", "t", "e". ELIMINATE.

Your eyes keep returning to the paper, tracing over each letter repeatedly, while your lips silently mouth the word that signifies the end of your fairy tale. You quietly pick up your coat and scarf, your movements slow, defeated, and begin the solemn walk back to the entrance.

"I quit," you declare, your words sharp as you stride past your boss's office. You don't pause to see her reaction, her astonishment. You just walk out, pushing through the big, heavy library doors. Once outside, you lean against them, feeling their solid presence at your back.

The rain pours down relentlessly, drenching you completely. It seeps into your clothes, your skin, soaking you to the core. Your hair, cold and wet, cling to your forehead. You can’t make yourself care, you don’t even register it. You stand motionless, lost in a daze as you gaze across the small square in front of the library. People hurry past with their umbrellas, like a sea of oversized mushrooms, but you can't seem to tear your eyes away from the scene.

"Why me? Why now?" The questions hammer in your mind, unanswerable and haunting.

—----------------------------------------------

“Hey, honey! I’m home. How was your day?” Sihtric’s familiar, cheerful voice rings out from the hallway.

“Terrible,” you whisper to yourself, still staring out of the window. 

"Please, don’t. Just stay back, don’t come any closer, not yet," you silently beg. You know deep down it doesn't really matter if he hangs back a bit longer; it's not going to change anything. It's just putting off the inevitable, really. But you can't help it. You're clinging to these last few normal moments, trying to stretch them out as long as possible before everything flips upside down.

Your knuckles are white, gripping the hilt of your Poseidon, and you compulsively check the silencer for what must be the twentieth time. The footsteps are getting louder now, and there are those squeaky floorboards right outside the door. As the first one creaks under his weight, you know Sihtric is just about to walk into the living room. Every creak feels like a countdown, and you're just hoping he'll take his time, maybe get distracted by something, anything. You're not ready, but then again, you wonder if you'll ever really be. The sound of those footsteps, so familiar and usually so comforting, now feels like they're marching right through your heart.

You can't help it – you just have to see him one more time. You want to soak in those eyes of his, thick-lashed and mismatched, that always seem to look at you so seriously but kindly. You're craving that warm, bright smile that lit up at the sight of you after a long day, and oh, that infectious laugh of his that gets you giggling every time, no matter what. But you know this moment's going to get swallowed up by anger and fear real soon. Slowly, you turn around to face him, your right hand tucked away behind your back. You're doing your best to smile, but it's shaky, and you can feel your nerves all over the place. It's just a moment, but to you, it feels like forever. You let your eyes roam over his face, trying to burn this image of him into your memory – that neat goatee, those full lips, his straight nose and strong cheekbones, and finally, those big, deep eyes that always seem to say so much. As your eyes lock with Sihtric's, you feel this weird shiver run down your spine.

That shiver turns into full-on tremors as Sihtric's concerned voice cuts through the silence. "Hey, sweetheart, what's wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost. Everything okay?" His eyebrows pull together in worry, his eyes filled with concern.

In one swift motion, almost like a reflex, you pull your gun from behind your back, pointing it straight at Sihtric. "Don't move," you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips, as tears start to form in your eyes. "I'm sorry, babe."

"Baby, what the hell is this? What's happening?" Sihtric's voice is a mix of shock and disbelief, his body freezing in place. You want to pull the trigger, you really do, but your fingers just won't move. They're like they're not even yours anymore. A cry breaks from your lips, raw and pained, a sound of someone who's reached their breaking point, as you realize you can't do it. There's no way you can pull that damn trigger.

In just a heartbeat, Sihtric's right there, up in your face. His hand grips your throat, pushing you hard against the wall – his speed and strength just incredible. You can barely breathe,  eyes wide with fear, hands clawing at his in a vain attempt to break that iron hold threatening to suffocate you. When he finally lets go, you drop to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, your head spinning like crazy from the lack of oxygen.

“You’re a Templar,” he spits the words out like they were poison, an accusation, a curse, his mismatched eyes burning with disgust and resentment, as he glares down at you. “You’ve been spying on me this whole time.”

"I was, at first," you manage to gasp out between coughs, tears streaming down your face. "But not anymore, Sihtric, I swear. Please, you have to believe me."

"Believe you? Why the hell should I?" His voice is bitter, a blend of disbelief and scorn.

You flinch as Sihtric's rough hand clutches your hair, yanking your head back against the wall. “What have you been telling them? Did you report on every time I fucked you?” Sihtric snarls in your face, mockery in his voice laced with an undercurrent of sadness, even pain.

"I didn't, I swear..." you start, but his hand comes down hard across your face, cutting you off and leaving you tasting blood.

"Don't lie to me!" he roars, his face inches from yours. "You were just about to shoot me. What did I ever do to you to deserve that?"

You're about to say something else, but then you both hear it - footsteps coming up the stairs, voices, though muffled, getting closer.

"Get out of here, now," you hiss at Sihtric, grabbing his arm as you try to get back on your feet. "I'll handle them. Look, you might not believe me, but I'm not your enemy. Just go!"

Sihtric's bewildered gaze flickers between you and the door, his grip loosening. He is listening to the growing noise outside. “Go,” you urge, “I'm done for anyway. There's no way out for me. But you – you can still make it.”

He hesitates, eyes darting, weighing if this is a trap, a desperate attempt to win back his trust. But the choice is taken out of his hands. The sounds outside are getting closer, more urgent. It's clear there are too many of them for even both of you to handle.

—---------------------------------------------

And now you're here, in this small, windowless room, feeling the walls close in on you, the air almost too thick to breathe. You close your eyes, but there's only silence, the room soundproof, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your own racing heartbeat.

"What are you doing here?" Sihtric’s hoarse voice jolts you, but you don't bother turning around. There's no need; it's just the two of you. It was about time he woke up.

"I'm locked up here with you," you snap, frustration boiling over. Your hands tangle in your hair, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you slide down against the wall.

"Would you mind untying me?" Sihtric's voice is oddly casual, as if this were a normal conversation over dinner.

"Why? So you can have another go at killing me?" you can’t help but smirk at yourself, as if it mattered anyway. To you, it feels like you're already dead. You can't fathom why they left you alive, locked up here with him. You are useless to the order now and useless things are disposed of. Perhaps this is your punishment – to face death at the hands of the only man you ever loved. Anger surges through you, propelling you to his side in three quick steps. Furiously, you tug at the leather straps binding his wrists and ankles.

As soon as the straps loosen enough for Sihtric to free his hands, his iron grip clamps around your throat, pinning you against the wall. You don't resist. What's left to lose?

His eyes burn with hate, scorn, disgust. Gone is the mischievous, sweet, caring look you fell for. That charming, adoring gaze is lost forever. 

"I'm dead either way, and I'd rather it be by your hand than theirs" you manage to gasp out.

It's a bitter truth. If this was meant to be your punishment for failing your mission, then they've miserably failed. This is your twisted form of revenge, a testament to your self-determination – the power to choose your own end. A smile tugs at your lips at the irony. The powerful order, dedicated to dominating human free will, has failed to subjugate someone as seemingly insignificant as you. Fear doesn't grip you; there will be no begging. You've made your choice, and as you're pinned against the wall, Sihtric's fingers digging painfully into your skin, marking your throat, you can’t hold back a satisfied smile forming on your lips. 

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead already." Sihtric growls, his face twisted with anger. There's a certainty in his tone that sends a chill through you.

"So what's stopping you? Just do it already!" you shoot back at him, provoking deliberately.

"You betrayed me, played me, you're just a whore, selling yourself," Sihtric's voice is hoarse and raspy, his breathing growing heavier with each venomous word.

"Really? I think we're pretty much the same, you know. When were you planning on telling me the real you, Assassin?" you snap back, your voice just as sharp. 

You sense a subtle shift in Sihtric's behavior. His eyes intensely scan your face, almost as if trying to see through you, his face mere centimeters from yours. You can feel each of his breaths against your skin, hot and rapid. A whimper escapes you under the mounting pressure, tears brimming in your eyes, yet your gaze remains steadfastly locked with Sihtric's. Your breath is cut off, his grip tightening, and your eyes begin to roll back as darkness edges in. 

Then you hear it, rough and low, right by your ear. "I hate you," he growls, "I fucking hate you!" Sihtric breathes heavily against your ear, as his hands leave your throat and slide down, finding the bottom edge of your T-shirt and gliding beneath it. 

His touch is warm, firm and bruising as his hands start roaming your bare skin, pushing up your bra and squeezing your breasts roughly, angrilly. Sihtric leans closer, his nose in the hook of your neck as he inhales you sharply, almost desperately, a low growl rumbling in his throat. His lips and teeth are on your neck, grazing, biting, leaving marks on their way down to your shoulder, there is nothing gentle in the way he treats you, anger pulsing through his veins, but you are unable to contain the hungry moan, escaping your lips parted in a smugly grin.

The way Sihtric has you trapped against the wall with his body  lets you feel the hard bulge in his crotch, pressing against your thigh. Your head's all foggy, you are dizzy from not getting enough air, and from your thirst for more as you feel each bruising touch burning right through your skin, straight to your soul, reminding you hard that you're both here, both alive. Everything else just fades away. Right now, in this moment, it's just you and him, and the familiar heat pooling in your lower back and your walls clenching and pulsing are the only things your dazed mind can focus on. He can do whatever he wishes with you, you will not struggle, you will not protest, you are yielding, you deserve it, you accept it and crave for it, for one last time.

And in the next moment you are pulled away from the wall and bent over that metallic table, a loud whine escaping you from the force you crush against it, Sihtric’s hands pull down your jeans in one quick motion, leaving them half way at your knees. His one hand is on the back of your neck, pushing you firmly down against the table, holding you in place while the other pulls aside your already soaked panties, pushing his fingers inside you.

“Fuck, already dripping, like the filthy whore that you are. Do you like it? Huh? I will fuck that dirty smile out of you until you’ll not remember even your name anymore.” 

Your mind is too hazed, too immersed in the burning sensation in your core, to be able to formulate any words, as you arch your back, consumed by your hunger, your need to feel him inside you, to take everything he can give you, all of his anger, all of his hate and all of his love and desire, if it’s still there somewhere behind that maddening dark shimmer in his eyes. 

You hear him undoing his breeches, freeing his cock and giving himself a few strokes, his breath ragged and itchy. You shiver in anticipation as he places his leaking tip at your entrance and pushes inside your wet and throbbing cunt, sheathing himself with a low growl until the very end of his shaft. You cry out at the sudden stretch, not out of pain, it’s the overwhelming pleasure of feeling Sihtric filling you perfectly that makes you grab the edge of the table and push back against him as he starts thrusting into you, slapping his hips against your bottom with a relentless, breathtaking pace.

“Is that all you've got?” you hiss, hearing a curse leaving Sihtric’s lips, his heavy and rapid  breathing mingling with wild groans, as he ruts against you like a crazed beast driven by his anger.

“Give me more, Sihtric. I need more of you,” you cry out, your breath panting, your knuckles turning white from the force you are clutching the edge of the table, trying to spread your thighs, to open yourself to take in more of him. You want him, you need him, harder, deeper, you want to feel all of him, bringing you to the limit, splitting you open, possessing you, making you feel the life pulsing through your every vain.

“Fuck,” Sihtric groans, his hands on your hips now, his fingers digging deep into your skin, as he fastens his pace, snapping his hips against you, savagely, brutally, “It’s what you want, huh? Believe me, you’ll not be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

Sihtric’s hands land on your cheeks, parting them, as he watches your pussy swallowing his cock again and again, your arousal dripping down your thighs. The slaps of Sihtric’s hips against you, his rapid breaths and your moans of pleasure echo around the room. Your eyes start rolling back into your head as you feel your climax pooling; each time he pushes forward, his length reaches that spot inside you that makes your back arch and your thighs tremble, feeling the tension building up and bringing you ever closer to the edge.

Sihtric’s fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls you roughly up against his chest, his teeth on your neck, bruising more marks into it, the other hand sliding down to your clit, rubbing and circling it. He is angry, he is hurt and he fucking hates how much he loves and craves you; with each thrust, each snap of his hips, Sihtric feels his anger dissipating. You are his doom, his damnation, his sweet madness and there is no escape, no cure from it. He just wants to fuck you into oblivion, to make you cum on his cock, screaming his name one last time, as there might be no tomorrow, no other day for it. 

“You’re mine and you’ll always be mine; nothing else matters,“ Sihtric’s breath comes out in harsh and ragged hot pants against your ear as he turns your head to kiss you harshly. A desperate sob escapes your lips as you answer his kiss, his words echoing in your ears and tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Sihtric…,” you whine in disappointment as he suddenly pulls out, but he flips you around, lifting onto the table with one swift move as if you were weightless, yanks off your jeans and panties and sinks back into you, both of you moaning heavily as he resumes thrusting into you with an insatiable frenzy.

“Damn, how I love those sounds you make,”  Sihtric hisses in your ear, “Give me more of them. I bet they all are watching us right now, straining against their breeches. Let them hear you. I want you to let them hear you,” he demands and the dirty sounds that depart your lips, something between moaning and whining, are probably the most lewd ones you have ever made.

Your fingers slide up his arm until you reach his shoulders and you pull yourself closer to him, pressing your parted lips against his. You bite his lower lip, hard, but he doesn’t pull away, his lips crash against yours, kissing you with such desperation that you find yourself struggling to breathe. 

“Say it… say that you are mine,” Sihtric growls into your mouth.

You look into his expressive, mismatched eyes, rolling back into his head from pleasure that you are giving him. You love the sharp features of his face, married with scars on his forehead and right cheek, you are his and he is yours, now and forever and it doesn’t matter how long this forever will last as you are sure to find him and claim him again and again in all the possible afterlives. 

“Yours, only yours and nothing can ever change that…we are bound, forever, until the death us parts,” you whisper in between your heavy breaths with half lid eyes. 

“Look at me. I want you to look at me,” Sihtric hisses, wrapping his fingers around your neck and squeezing slightly, his breath panting as he locks his gaze with you, and you do as he asks. 

“Fuck, I could never hate you,” Sihtric breathes, his forehead touching yours, as he keeps thrusting into you, “Do you hear me? Never! I love you too much.” 

You can only whimper incomprehensibly as his words make your walls start clenching around him. You try to hold back, to prolong the moment; from his rapid, shallow breaths, his thrusts getting sloppy, you feel that he is close too and you want to take him with you into oblivion.  

“I can feel you, don’t fight it,” Sihtric’s firm voice reaches you through your dazzled consciousness, “Let it go, cum for me,” and you can do nothing but to obey as his words push you over the edge, your fingers tangle in his hair and you feel your climax rolling, washing over you in waves of pure bliss as you fall deeper and deeper into oblivion, his name on your lips like a prayer. You come undone, your cries of ecstasy filling the room, your nails digging into Sihtric’s shoulders. Sihtric’s pace doesn’t falter as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, thrusting his cock as deep as he can, your thighs trembling around his waist; you are spent and pliable, whimpering mess, spasming around his cock and a moment later his own moans and groans start bouncing off the walls as Sihtric follows you spilling himself deep inside you, your eyes locked and foreheads pressed against each others. 

"I love you. I love so much,” you murmur, cupping his face in your palms as he breathes heavily against your skin. Tears trail down your cheeks, and your lips tremble just above his.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it," you whisper, barely getting the words out through your sobs.

"Shh, I know. It's okay, everything's going to be alright," Sihtric draws you closer into his embrace, pressing gentle kisses across your face. You know he is lying, but it doesn’t really matter. Right now, it’s enough. You just lean into him, letting his steady rocking soothe you.

"You know they'll use me against you," you murmur after a while, “You should have killed me.”

The room goes quiet except for your heavy breathing and the comforting sound of Sihtric's lips in your hair. "Let them try," he finally says, his voice low but determined, holding you close.

[sumsebien]

Your Highness pt.5// Prince Friedrich

series masterlist

summary: Y/N and Friedrich are still very much in the fairytale stage of their engagement. Of course, that is before the Queen gives her verdict on this match.

warnings: none

a/n: final part of your highness. the next part is “i’ll be in ruins for you” and it’s already up so check that out. oh and here is the duclaux piece i've been writing about. okayyy i’m too excited i am posting this right now :))))

When you and Anthony told Lord Wilson of your decision, he was happy for you and even invited you to visit his cottage should you ever find yoursef in Scotland. That alleviated parts of the guilt you felt for having strung him along. You wished him all the happiness and fortune before he bid you goodbye and left for his home. After that, you and the Prince had your last dance of the night, both of you trying to keep your giddiness to an absolute minimum as you spun around the room in each other’s arms.

It was utter bliss.

You hadn’t announced the news to the world just yet. So far, the only people who knew of your engagement were your family and Friedrich. And you intended to keep it that way until absolutely necessary.

Everyone was happy. Mama and Daphne were on board the moment they learned that you would remain close, most of the time, for them to visit. Benedict was just glad you had found your match and that you were generous enough to lend him that oil set. Colin was slightly sad that you’d not be living in a splendid castle in Prussia and allow him a tour whenever he made a stop on one of his continental tours. Little Hyacinth was most excited of all, always wondering what you were going to do the moment you became a Princess. Gregory usually answered before you could, resulting in a chase around the house.

As for you, you found yourself singing alone as you sketched in your notebook all the things that reminded you of Friedrich. And it had only been the morning after the engagement. You could not wait for noon to arrive so that you may see him again for the private tour of Somerset.

“Someone’s happy,” Benedict remarked, falling against the empty seat next to you.

“She has been singing all morning!” Eloise said, looking up from her book.

You smiled, ignoring them and went on with your humming.

“Miss Bridgerton?” Humbolt appeared at the entrance to the drawing room. “From Prince Friedrich, my Lady.”

“Yes?” You stood, leaving your notebook behind on the couch.

From behind him, Humbolt picked up a beautiful arrangement of flowers, almost as tall as he was. You hadn’t even fully registered the impressive stature of it yet and Mama was already touching the flowers and sniffing them.

“Darling, this must be very expensive,” she said, pointing at the two-toned roses in white and pink, along with the vibrant pops of blue from the cornflowers. The bouquet was finished with gardenias, adding a wonderful aroma to the room almost immediately.

“But why cornflowers and roses?” Eloise asked and all of you turned to Mama for an answer.

“Roses are the national flower of England as cornflowers are to Prussia.”

You felt an overwhelming sense of warmth just looking at him like so. You decided to sit down on the bench behind you and began to sketch him, “after that day, I went to the library and did my reasearch. Antoine Jean Duclaux, at the time he painted this, was only a student accompanying a more famous artist. While his teacher painted a Queen playing music, Duclaux made a portrait of her from the back. Perhaps so grief-stricken by the recent loss of her dear friend that she could not show her face.” The graphite version of Friedrich was coming to life and you had all the intentions of repainting it onto a canvas. You tried to capture his gentleness with the way his fingers curled ever so gently as well as his strength held mainly in his shoulders. The Friedrich before you had caught onto what you were doing by now. “You’re supposed to draw something that inspires you! That’s the only reason why we are here, my dear!” “I know! And I am doing just that!” He had no objections to remaining still and allowing you to complete your sketch. It didn’t take as long as you made him believe it would. The last five minutes you spent admiring him but he did not have to know that. After you were done, your family arrived to the Duclaux piece. Friedrich joined Hyacinth and Gregory and messed about in the room while you stood next to Benedict. “I don’t have favorites but if I did, you would be my favorite sister, you know that?” Benedict whispered to you when you came to stand by his side. “Do you love me? Or do you love him?” You motioned towards Friedrich who was now helping Hyacinth with her revenge. “Both of you I adore. For you have such fine taste in arts and in people,” he smiled, swinging his arm around your shoulder. You chuckled, about to tease him further when the your guide stopped talking. Through the door came a guard who cleared his voice, looking to Friedrich, “your Royal Highness, the Queen has requested your presence at once.” Before he turned to you, “And yours, Miss Bridgerton.” Dear readers, This Author believes she has uncovered a royal engagement made in secret. It is not hard to guess who the two lovebirds might be in this town. This morning a large bouquet of flowers was sent to the Bridgerton House. Large enough to mean more than just courting. Should the Prince have found himself a Princess so soon? And in someone other than the Diamond of the Season, as well. How very scandalous!

You remembered the nerves you felt waiting behind the tall white ornate doors with Mama and Daphne. You had tried your best not to mess up and in doing so, you paid no mind to your footing which resulted in you almost falling to the ground in front of her Majesty. It wasn’t as much of a disaster as Miss Featherington who fainted at her feet but it was enough to make a terrible and no doubt, lasting impression on her.

You just didn’t expect yourself to be here again. Behind those white doors, engaged to her nephew, you were going to go in and explain yourself to her the reason why you two had hid the engagement from her and have her found out through reading Whistledown. No amount of sophistication and elegance could save you now.

Before you were due inside, you tugged at Friedrich’s hand. He, for one, was not nervous at all, still smiling. The crinkles by his eyes and the dimples by his cheeks offered you a moment of peace. “And what would your mother say? When the Queen tells her that we hid an engagement from her?” you asked quietly. At this point, anything that could delay the possibility of losing Friedrich was good enough.

“She is in Prussia and should not be here until I ask her to. When she does, she will love you. And,” he gave your hand a final kiss, “we did not hide anything. I would never hide my love for you. Not from the Queen, not from anyone.”

You nodded before turning to Anthony who gave you a small smile. “It’s going to be alright, sister.” But you could tell he was nervous too from the ways he kept fidgeting with his fingers behind his back.

Echoing from inside the throne room were your names and suddenly the doors swung open, revealing the longest walk you’d ever taken leading up to the throne. The Queen sat leaning back, her watchful eyes burning into you three, but especially you. Beside her was an army of lady’s maids in extravagant gowns, Pomeranians in their arms. You kept your gaze low and made sure that you did not trip and that your curtsy was perfect.

So far, everything went swimmingly. Up until she opened her mouth. “Care to explain what this is, Friedrich?” She snapped her fingers and one of the servants brought forth a copy of Whistledown on a tray.

Friedrich held up his hand to stop the servant from moving any further. “Lady Whistledown was correct to assume we were engaged.”

She laughed, “You are engaged? To her?”

“I asked Miss Bridgerton to marry me last night and she has accepted. We were going to tell you very soon.”

“You proposed last night?” The Queen sat up in her seat, about to storm forward but stopped herself and slumped back, throwing a hand over her forehead, “do my opinions mean so little to you?”

Anyone in their right mind would be scared out of their wits by now. You were sure Friedrich was the only one you had ever met who wasn’t terrified of the Queen. You glanced to him briefly. He kept his gaze steady on her, still calm and collected. “I love her very much. As she loves me. She may not be what you are looking for in a wife for me but she is what I am looking for. I hope we may have your blessing.”

The Queen did not seem like she was listening or like she cared at all. You knew this was headed. Your hand brushed his, knowing the inevitable was on the horizon. He didn’t look at you, his eyes burning into the Queen.

“No. And you,” she looked to you and Anthony. Contempt in her gaze and venom in her words, “you shall leave.”

taglist: @awesomebooklover17 @oopsiedoopsie23 @milkbaer @vampirestookmydoubts @5hundreddaysofsummer ❤️

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the replies or through messages. love you.

[writings-of-an-introvert]

Quick fic I wrote about that resurrection theory for RE8. I hope we get to see at least Lady Dimitrescu again considering just how much hype she got.

AO3 is linked as well.

It is strange, experiencing a beginning, or rather a new one. To return from oblivion is not a feeling many people get to experience, yet Alcina feels herself pulled from the void in to consciousness. It begins with sound, she notices; the sound of a heart beating, weakly at first, and then it begins to make an effort beating harder until it is like the drums of war in her mind; slow, steady, thunderous. Then, a breath, like a whisper through a window nearly silent; then soon it is labored and heavy, as though the one who was breathing was exhausted, taxed beyond their means.

Then came the sensation of feeling. With this dawning, she realized it was her heart and her breath thundering and rushing. She could feel her chest moving, rising and falling, heavy. She felt heavy all over. Her eyes refused to open though she willed them; for a moment she nearly believed she had opened them but simply faced a living void of madness, inky blackness still before her. She felt the muscles in her face work themselves; her brows knit together tightly holding tension in her forehead, the muscles over her cheekbones squeezed themselves together making her nose scrunch and her eyes clench tightly, her lips pursed and drew themselves into a thin line, her jaw clenched and unclenched. This tensing and untensing of muscles continued down her body, her fingertips twitching lightly. But her eyes remained shut. Her hands and feet felt cold, yet she could feel a weight over her body, a blanket perhaps. She is laying down on... something. It feels firm, it is not familiar.

Alcina laid there, hearing her heart, her breath; feeling her chest rise and fall. She still cannot will her eyes to open, not even when she feels a hand on her shoulder and a voice speak to her.

“Now, now, my Lady. You’ve still very little strength. Rest,” the voice said. Without much else, she is swept into a black dreamless sleep. The feeling of anything outside her body gone, she feels like she is floating, weightless, and suspended in air, or water; she could not tell.

Her mind began to wake next, where once thoughts of only the present and her immediate stimuli were processing, now were thoughts of the past. Memories unlocked themselves and spilled forth in front of her mind’s eye. She saw her daughters, laughing and smiling and running. She saw them awaken for the first time, the glassy looks in their eyes as they seemed to stare right through her. She heard Bela’s voice, /Mama?/ As she said it for the first time, elation filled her, she remembers that joy in that simple moment. Then she saw the ashes on the ground; in the library, the kitchen, the armory. Her gloved fingers sifting over them gently. They were gone. Something twisted and snapped in her chest. She saw /him/, scampering through her home, the evidence of his sins dusting his worn jacket. Then she saw him in the crypt. A sharp pain from her side wracks through her body. She sees herself above him, flying down at him. /She was going to kill herself and take him with her./ A scream tore itself, raging, from her chest.

Alcina tried to lash out, but something restrained her on the bed. Her strength still sapped away from her but the creaking of the bindings and the whining of their bolts told her it was perhaps coming back. She pulled harder, the scream now a pained howl. /How could life be worth anything without her daughters?/ She kept her eyes screwed shut, she wanted desperately to be swept back into oblivion, into the void of nothing. She didn’t want to be alive without them. She could feel large hot tears race down her cheeks; her howls turned into wails. She wanted to beg, she willed anything coherent to come from her mouth, but she could only muster the painful wailing, her pain beyond words. She felt the hand on her shoulder again but this time a sharp jab in her bicep followed it. A cold sensation ran its way down her arm and she felt heavy again. Her wails now choked sobs, she collapsed onto the pillow. The voice gently cooed to her.

“Hush now, my Lady, save your strength, all will be well,” it said. It was familiar, grating. Her mouth was dry and her lips felt as though they had been cut and torn but she mustered everything to speak.

“M-my... daught-ters...” she rasped. Her throat felt like sandpaper, her lips and tongue sticking as she spoke.

“I know, my Lady, but you must rest,” it said, the hand still holding her shoulder as though she would try to sit up again. She choked and rasped a few more sobs as sleep overtook her once again, the sound of her heart and breath becoming all she could hear again. Images swirled in her mind, vague and hazy, they were memories. Some, her mind wouldn’t allow her to process, others she only recognized a feeling they brought to her. Then there was the smell. Familiar, delicious, tantalizing. She felt her chest rise quickly, letting her breathe in the scent deeply.

/Blood./

Alcina bolted upright, mouth wide open, hissing and snapping at the air, the nauseating hollow in her belly driving her mad. She felt that damned hand over her chest, holding her back. At this her eyes snapped open; the light of the world was simply too much too quickly. A white void met her vision, her eyes suddenly and sharply ached. She closed them immediately and shook her pounding head, letting out a growl of frustration.

“Ah, I feel I perhaps should have expected such a reaction. Welcome back Lady Dimitrescu.” Said the voice, now very familiar. She squinted one eye open, the white light faded to reveal a massive hazy shape. Her cracked lips curled further into a snarl.

“Tut, tut, my Lady. Come now, surely I’ve proven my loyalty.” said the voice of the Duke. Alcina’s vision cleared further to reveal the massive bulbous form of the Duke, who seemed to be navigating the room via a wheelchair. Alcina let the tension in her shoulders go as her vision continued to clear and adjust, she eyed the Duke wearily, face still twisted into a snarl.

“There,” he said, leaning over to grab a bowl from a small table beside him that Alcina couldn’t see. “Come, my dear, let’s have you eat.” He said cheerfully. Her face fell into a perturbed confusion as her arms pulled at the restraints around her wrists. The sound caught the Duke’s attention. “Ah, a safety precaution, I hope you understand. But soon they’ll not be a problem.” He said, continuing with that cheery tone. He brought the bowl before her. Alcina lurched forward, catching the restraints, her mouth opened wide again, reaching for the bowl now snatched away out of her reach, a hiss that sounded more like a growl streamed from her parched throat. “Now, my Lady, I understand your fervor, however, this behavior is quite unbecoming.” Said the Duke, sternly, though Alcina could see the smug expression on his face, he was enjoying this, “Please,” he continued, “Allow me."

Alcina straightened up, watching the Duke settle again in his chair and bring the bowl to her lips. He tilted the bowl gently allowing the blood to run over her lips. Her hands tried to dart up and take the bowl herself, but they caught on the restraints. Her arms shook as she tried to fight and pull against the bindings. She sucked hungrily at the rim of the bowl, loudly swallowing large mouthfuls of blood. The bowl was emptied within moments and Alcina gasped loud ragged breaths as the Duke set the bowl aside, he grabbed a cloth and dabbed at the sides of her mouth.

Alcina sat there, staring upwards through half-lidded eyes at the middle distance, feeling satisfied, still taking in deep ragged breaths. Finally, after what felt like hours, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“My daughters... were-” her voice was low and raspy, she tried not to pay attention to the way it wavered.

“You have just awoken, my dear. Please, lay back,” he said holding up a hand to silence her, she didn’t like being interrupted, but she did as she was instructed. She watched him dig for something in a pocket and pull out a small key. He leaned forward and unlocked the first of two cuffs holding her to the bed. He leaned back and moved to the other side of the bed to undo the other cuff. Once both her hands were free, she massaged her wrists where the leather chafed against her skin.

“If you are feeling up to it, my Lady, I can have a bath drawn,” he said. Despite the sustenance she had just received mere moments ago, her head swam at the very thought of standing. She could feel her knees tremble under the blanket.

“Not just yet, I think,” she said.

“Very well, continue your rest, I shall check on you again in the morning,” he said as he wheeled his way around the bed towards a door that stood ajar.

“Duke,” she called out, but he was faster than she anticipated and he disappeared through the door closing it behind him. Alcina sat back against the wall. Oh, what a sight she must be, no makeup, hair a mess, and wearing some plain threadbare nightgown. She felt her eyes stinging and her lip began to tremble. Her mind turned back to her daughters; only they had ever seen her without makeup, on days when she had not washed her hair, when she did not have the will to leave her bed. They’d come and curl up beside her, it was one of the rare occasions they didn’t bicker. She’d wrap them all up in her sheets and her blankets and hold them to her tightly, the next day she’d be up and have a full face of makeup on and her hair clean and curled before they awoke. Now, she was alone again. Alcina hugged her knees up to her chest and let her forehead rest against them letting her tears fall freely until she laid on her side and fell asleep once more.

Morning came far too quickly for Alcina’s liking. The Duke returned and had pulled the curtains away from the window, letting the grey light from an overcast sky flood the simple wooden room. Her eyes ached and she pulled the blanket over her head, burying her face in the pillow. He was humming some drole tune that grated against her ears. She rolled her eyes as she heard something shift beside her, figuring it was the Duke getting ready to pull back the blanket from her grasp, but he never did. Instead, he stopped, Alcina slowly drew the blanket back to look at him, he was staring at her with a gentle smile upon his features.

“What?” she snapped; her voice still hoarse from crying most of the previous night.

“I brought you a change of clothes, my Lady, something I think you’ll be far more comfortable in,” he said gesturing to a large bundle of clothes on the bedside table. She reached out and touched it. /Silk./ She tilted her head and picked up the garment, she recognized it immediately. She clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, she pressed the white dress to her cheek. It was her favorite dress, comfortable yet elegant enough for her tastes. She turned to look at the Duke once more, opening her mouth to speak to him.

“I have drawn a bath just in the next room for you, my Lady, I think you’ll find the size accommodating,” he said over his shoulder in the doorway, “I encourage you to hurry, however, I have a request for your presence.”

Alcina stopped, who would want to speak with her? Surely, Ethan Winters succeeded in his mission, Mother Miranda must be dead. And to the rest of the world, so was Alcina Dimitrescu. Surely, there were no survivors in Ethan Winters’ wake. Perhaps she heard the Duke wrong, perhaps it was a jest. There was no one awaiting her return, surely. A cruel joke, to be sure, but perhaps she was meant to be the butt of every cruel joke, she had been so far.

She tentatively swung one leg after the other over the edge of the bed. Her feet met cold, polished wooden floors. She took a moment to ground herself, her legs still felt shaky but she pushed herself to stand, bracing against the wall. She grasped the dress and clean undergarments in one hand and leaned against the wall with the other as she made her way to the door to the bathroom. And to her surprise, as she ducked through the doorway, the Duke had been truthful. A giant claw foot ceramic tub sat in the cramped space, steam rising from it. Alcina breathed in the steam and could smell the soap and oils he used in the bath. She placed her dress and undergarments gently on the sink and slipped off the dreadful cotton nightgown she had been wearing.

The water felt divine as she sank in to her chin, she took a deep breath and dipped her head under the surface. She held her head under the water for as long as she could, listening to her heart as it beat in her chest. She came up out of the water with a small gasp, her eyes fluttering open. She found soap, shampoo, and conditioner and got to work scrubbing herself clean. She took her time lavishing in the hot water and scented oils, and when her fingers had begun to wrinkle, she pulled the plug from the bottom of the tub and let the water drain. She stood, dried herself, and wrapped her hair in the towel to let it soak the water from her hair. She walked back over to her clothes and carefully put them on. Once she was dressed, she found a small golden canister at the bottom of the sink, as though she had knocked it over and hadn’t noticed. She picked it up, it was a tube of lipstick, familiar in her fingers, she opened it.

Alcina let out another little gasp of surprise, it was her custom lipstick, from the castle. From home. Her eyes snapped up to the mirror and she quickly put the lipstick on. She pressed her lips together to ensure it was even, and then she smiled. Her smile quickly faded, there wasn’t much reason to smile anymore. She sighed heavily and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked different, while still tall and strong looking, her skin was no longer gray; pale still certainly, but there was color in her cheeks. She traced a finger delicately over her cheekbone. How long had it been since any natural color had graced her features? Surely, long before her daughters were ever a glimmer in her eye.

There was no curling iron, but there was a comb. She thought about trying to wrestle with her hair without the proper product in it. /Perhaps it won’t be so bad if it's still wet.../ She hummed a moment. /No, better to let it dry the way it is and try again when I have the proper supplies./ She unwrapped her hair from the towel and let it flow gently over her shoulders, perhaps she should at least braid it. So, she did, loosely and messy with pieces sticking out here and there, but at least it was away from her face.

Alcina knew she had taken quite a while, perhaps she had kept her “audience” waiting, but she was hardly sure there actually was one. She strode over to the door of her room to meet the Duke, she opened it and saw him waiting just on the other side, hand still in the air as though he were getting ready to knock.

“Ah, there you are, looking ravishing as always, my Lady,” he said. Alcina nodded.

“Thank you, Duke. However, under the circumstances, I am aware I do not look my best,” she said. He waved a hand at her.

“Nonsense, now, come along. There are some lovely individuals just longing to see you,” he said. Alcina looked down at him, brows knit together in confusion.

“Who exactly?” She asked.

“All in good time, my dear,” he said. Alcina scoffed and rolled her eyes in frustration. She hated secrets, but because of their agreement, Alcina couldn’t use her usual methods of forcing out secrets. She walked slowly beside the Duke, trying to keep pace with him and not walk too far ahead. The house they were in was large, but it was not her castle. Where exactly she was, she didn’t know, but at least she could walk comfortably upright here. She walked beside the Duke for what felt like quite a long time, but as they approached the first floor, Alcina could hear chatter. Something about the noise made her chest tighten. She lengthened her stride, walking ahead of the Duke, he did not seem to protest, and even if he did, she didn’t hear him. A laugh rang out and Alcina found herself nearly flying down the staircase, taking two at a time, her bare feet hit cold marble with a small smack. Her eyes widened; it couldn’t be... She could hear the voices distinctly now as she rounded towards the kitchen, but she still couldn’t see them, tears rolled down her bare face once more. /It wasn’t possible./ She called out to the voices.

“Bela!” Her desperation made her voice crack. The voices halted.

“Daniela!” Her voice broke as a sob escaped her. She could hear quick footsteps approaching.

“Cassandra!” She cried. She broke into a run towards the sound of the footsteps. Her dress tangled in her legs and was caught under her foot, both her feet were swept out from under her as she tried to round another corner. She hit the floor with a loud thud that seemed to shake the room. She was dazed for just a moment as the breath was knocked from her. She felt something fall on top of her, warm and soft. She looked up with blurry tear-filled eyes and saw a head of red hair burying itself under her chin, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. There was a jolt of force from beside her as someone else clung to her, all of them shaking. She looked and saw a flash of dark brown hair settle over her shoulder. And finally, one last jostle and Alcina turned again and saw bright blonde hair covering shaking shoulders.

“My sweet girls!” She cried. "Let me look at you, come here.” They all looked up and moved to sit in front of her, tears streaming down each face, each set of eyes red and puffy, all four of them gasping and sobbing, clinging to each other. Alcina grasped each woman’s face in her hands tightly and brought them to her face to kiss them all over and wipe their tears away. Once she had kissed each of them a million times and her mouth was sore from pressing it against her daughters’ faces, she pulled them in as tightly as she could and cried. It was like a dream, sitting there with them again and Alcina prayed that it wouldn’t end. She heard a sound behind her, her head whipped around to look, tightening her hold on her daughters as if they’d be whisked away again. It was the Duke, he simply smiled and nodded to her and turned to leave the room and let the women have their reunion.

Alcina turned back to look at her daughters once more, they all looked at her, eyes wide and red.

“We missed you, Mama,” said Bela sniffling. /Mama/, like music to her ears. Alcina placed a hand on her cheek.

“And I have missed you more than life itself, draga mea.” She said.

[nikethestatue]

Name Day

Thanks to @tswaney17 for the inspiration and the idea! Sometimes this is what happens one afternoon when we start thinking of Azriel’s and Elain’s baby’s names.

Her whimsical tale of Elain’s and Bryaxis’ friendship can be found here It’s a good prep for this story

This is the continuation of my Azriel and Elain’s baby story The Depth of Your Eyes which can be found here 

No warnings. Fluff and babies. 

Name Day

“Will you calm down?” Nesta asked. She was shaking her head, wearing nothing but a satin slip, as she was brushing her hair.

“I am down!” Cassian retorted, eyeing himself in the mirror, smoothing his hair.

“You’d think you are a maid on your first courting,” muttered Nesta, as she began to braid her hair slowly, amused by her mate, as he preened before the mirror.

“I want to look appropriate,” he explained. “We are Guardians. It’s an important position.”

“Yes, I know. But this is the fifth or sixth shirt that you’ve tried on. We are coordinating colours. Your outfit is all ready and waiting and I don’t understand why you are fussing so much,” she slid on the bed and cooed to the baby, who was observing all this commotion with quiet amusement.

“Gods, he is a puffball,” it was Cassian’s turn to shake his head, watching the baby in the reflection of the mirror.

“He is a little fatty,” Nesta agreed, “but he is already dressed and ready to go. While you…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassian looked at the shirt that Nesta had selected and began re-dressing for the fifth time today. “Do we still not know the name?”

She shrugged. “No.”

He proposed, “what if it’s something really strange?”

Nesta rolled her eyes slightly, as she slipped into her powder-blue velvet and lace gown, and approached her mate, her bare back turned to him. He began buttoning her up, without her prompting, while kissing her neck gently.

“He is watching,” she reminded him, but her eyes closed and she stroked his cheek, as her head lay on his shoulder.

“He is a baby.”

“He is Azriel’s baby,” she noted. “He is always watching!”

Cassian huffed in agreement. Azriel’s baby did indeed watch everything and everyone with interest and calm assertion, as if planning a strategy in his head. He reclined in some bouncy contraption, his short arms thick with multiple folds, and resting contently on his round belly. For a month-old infant, he sure looked like he was about six months at least. And not only because of his impressive heft, but also his scrutinizing gaze, that floated from object to person, taking in every detail.

Cassian cupped Nesta’s bottom in his wide palm and squeezed lightly,

“You want to…” he murmured hotly in her ear and she screeched in response, “Noooo! Are you insane? We are not doing that in front of our baby nephew.”

“We can turn him around,” Cassian suggested, unrelenting.

“Get dressed!” she snapped.

Cassian offered a petulant sigh in response and she stepped out of his arms, while he began buttoning his own shirt.

“So, no name?”

“How complicated can it be?” she pondered, stretching on the bed, and offering a rattle to the baby, who wasn’t hugely entertained by it, but took it nevertheless. “He is Elain and Azriel’s son. They are not…They are not you,” she added at last.

“What about me?”

“Well, they are not going to name him Stormwind Lightning Strike Archeron. Or Fireheart Blazing Ruby Archeron,”

“Both,” he interrupted her quickly, snapping his fingers, “are excellent names! I am putting them on the list.”

“No list!”

“Yes, they go on the list,” he insisted.

“You know,” she stroked her nephew’s soft black curl on top of his round head, “it will be something elegant and simple. Oren. Lorien. Rivendell… Something like that.”

“Boring,” huffed Cassian, finally slipping into his trousers.

At first, he wanted to go to the ceremony in full armour, to bring his nephew into the ‘warrior spirit’ right away, according to him. Elain gently suggested that perhaps, that’s a little much for a baby naming ceremony.

The door to Nesta’s River Manor opened quietly and Azriel slipped in.

“What’s boring?” he asked with a smile. Especially when his baby boy almost leapt from his bouncy seat at the sight of him. “Hello, my love,” he whispered, sitting on the bed and immediately kissing the baby’s little fist. “I’ve missed you already…Mama is still getting dressed. And she is going to be the most beautiful mama in the world,” he glanced at Nesta, “well, I mean,”

Nesta smiled and waved her hand dismissively, “She will be. Besides, I am not a mama,”

“Not yet,” piped Cassian quickly.

“Not yet a mama,” she agreed peacefully, “so Elain can claim the title.”

She observed the normally cool, composed, detached shadowsinger absolutely disintegrate in front of his son into a puddle of loving coos, belly rubs and kisses. She’d seen him soft and loving and gentle with Elain, which was an unusual sight in itself, but this was something else entirely.

“So, what’s boring?” Azriel remembered, as he rocked the baby against his chest.

“The name…Are we ever going to find out?” Cassian inquired, tightening his belt and looking at Azriel. “As Guardians, don’t you think we should know?”

“Oh, and you think my baby’s name will be boring?” Azriel cocked his brow.

“Well, it’s not going to be Thunderheart Powerwarrior,” muttered Nesta under her breath.

“I didn’t say that,” Cassian argued quickly.

Azriel gave him a measured look and then offered a resigned sigh, “I suppose you should know,”

“What is it?” exclaimed Cassian eagerly, rubbing his hands. Nesta perked up as well, “Yes, what is it?”

“Bryaxis,” said Azriel calmly, kissing his son’s cheek.

Cassian paled.

Nesta blanched.

“Are you fucking nuts?” groaned Cassian, a terrified expression on his face.

Nesta, who stood near him, elbowed him, muttering, “stop cursing in front of an infant!”

“An infant that these deranged parents want to name Bryaxis!” bellowed Cassian.

Then, Cassian stepped forwards and extended his arms, “No. No. Give me the baby!”

“Why?” Azriel pressed his son a little closer.

“No. You cannot be trusted with a child!” growled Cassian, his eyes blazing, “Absolutely not! Pfff,” he huffed loudly, “Bryaxis! Bryaxis!”

He was then almost speechless, just shaking his head silently, giving Nesta wild looks.

“Umm,” she interjected quietly, “are you sure?” she looked imploringly at Azriel. This was a shock indeed. What in the seven hells were they thinking?

“You know Bryaxis is Elain’s friend,” reminded them Azriel, a smile playing on his lips. “So, we thought,”

“No,” snarled Cassian. “Give me the kid! Right now,”

“Are you going to run away with him?” inquired Azriel.

“If I have to. If I must save him and keep him away from you two crazies, then yes!”

“He is still my son,”

“Not anymore. Not when you decided to name him Bryaxis!”

“But Bryaxis is a,”

“Shut up, Az,” Cassian visibly shuddered at the memory.

He never did accept Elain’s friendship with the monster that was Fear itself. Never understood how she willingly went to the depths of Library to chat with the Darkness and allowed it to roam the gardens of her villa. Thankfully, it was secluded enough not to have Bryaxis terrify everyone in sight.

“He is your neighbour,” reminded him Azriel with a chuckle. “He actually lives in your house!”

“Hey, it’s not because I invited him!” argued Cassian. “If you want it, you can have it, and it can live in your house! Since your wife is such good friends with it.”

The door was thrown open after a sharp knock and Mor appeared on the doorstep, “What is the delay?!!” she demanded by way of her greeting.

Before anyone could respond, she ordered, “Come on! Let’s go! Everyone is waiting,”

Azriel handed the baby to Nesta, and whispered something in her ear.

“Please don’t run away with my child,” he begged his brother.

Cassian begged, “Please don’t name your child Bryaxis! Az, ple-“

But Azriel disappeared in a swirl of his shadows.

It was a lovely, sunny morning. The emerald green lawn of the River Estate was set up with benches and chairs, which were decorated with ribbons and the colours of the Night Court and Azriel’s cobalt blue.

The small group of guests were seated, informally, around a gazebo that was made of branches and decorated with garlands of blue flowers of every colour and hue. Azriel and Elain stood there, hand in hand, waiting for the Guardians to bring the baby forth.

At last, Cassian and Nesta appeared, Cassian holding an Illyrian shield, which was draped in Azriel’s baby blanket. Somehow, Azriel’s mother kept the simple, worn thing all these years, patching it over the centuries, to keep it presentable just for this occasion. Upon the shield, the baby lay, tugging on his feet, trying to roll over the edge, and being barely contained by his nervous aunt.

At last, Cassian and Nesta stopped under the gazebo. Cassian’s eyes were pleading with a silent lament, looking at his brother.

He didn’t hear half of what Rhys was saying. The baby was being welcomed into the fold of its people, as a citizen and son of the Night Court, as an Illyrian warrior, and as a son and protector of his people. Nesta finally grabbed the future ‘protector of his people’ off the damn shield, before he could tumble onto the grass below.

Cassian mutely shook his head, giving Azriel a death stare.

Once a bit of honey was dabbed onto the baby’s lips—for a sweet life—Feyre asked,

“Who names this child?”

“We do,” said Elain and Azriel in unison.

“What name will the child carry?” asked the baby’s grandmother.

With a heavy sight, Cassian joined Nesta’s hand in covering the baby’s head and then,

“Elessar Ramiel,” said Nesta loudly.

Cassian’s eyes blew wide. He whipped his head to Azriel and Elain, who were trying to stifle their laughter, shaking soundlessly against each other, looking at him.

Under the shield, he flashed both of them a vulgar gesture.

Well, at least it wasn’t Lanthys.

“Elessar Ramiel Archeron,” Cassian then repeated loudly alongside Nesta.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

If I Don’t Wake Tomorrow

Tom Branson x Reader

Words: 3395

Part One

Summary: Married for nearly a year, the reader and her husband return to her home and family for a dinner at her sister’s invitation. Tom faces judgment and becomes a point of ridicule. Everything halts when the reader falls deathly ill. 

Notes: Like I said, I love putting my boys through hell. Yes, I’m lazy and I just totally made up a nameless illness. Sue me. Let me know what you guys think and if you want to see more Downton in the future.  (I know this gif is gut-wrenching, but it was just so perfect, I had to use it.)

-

Everyone had been gathered into the library for Dr. Clarkson’s analysis. The Winstons were required to stay since no one knew how contagious Y/N’s illness could be. It was quickly determined that this was no ordinary fever. Robert was pacing madly back and forth, waiting for Dr. Clarkson to speak. Tom stood silently in the corner, Sybil keeping close to him to make sure he wasn’t alone. 

“Dr. Clarkson, please just tell us what it is.” Cora begged. He seemed to be struggling to find the words. 

“The good news is, if she makes it through the first 24 hours, the fever should flush itself out.” Everyone hung onto one simple word. If. Dr. Clarkson’s hands fell limply to his sides. He felt so useless. “The trouble is, most patients don’t last 12.” Cora cried out, Mary clutched Matthew’s hand, and Robert stopped pacing. 

Tom felt as if he’d been split open. Sybil watched him grip the back of a chair, doubling over and finding it difficult to breathe. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Not to his Y/N. Your life together had barely even started. 

“Is there anything to be done?” Edith asked. She had been rather quiet through the night, but her worry was genuine. Dr. Clarkson sighed. 

“I’m afraid all we can do is try to keep her fever down… and pray.” A heaviness fell over everyone in the room. Downstairs, a similar scene was playing out. The servants were gathered at the table receiving instructions from a solemn Mr. Carson. Y/N, no matter her decisions, was loved by many of the servants and as a daughter of Downton she would have anything she needed. 

Anna was the most distraught, though she was able to hide it well. She loved all of the girls dearly and Y/N was the brightest soul she’d ever seen. The idea of that light dimming broke her heart. She couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Tom’s mind, the poor man. She was carrying a tray of toast up to the room so Sybil and Tom would have something to eat. It wasn’t proper, but Sybil knew Y/N would be the most comfortable with Anna. Thomas certainly wouldn’t be the friendliest face to wake up to. 

“Fortunately, this strain is only transmitted through contaminated liquids, usually drinking water.” Dr. Clarkson explained to those who had moved up to Y/N’s room. Violet and Isobel remained in the library, along with Edith to keep the Winstons at bay. 

“So we can be with her?” Cora likely would have stayed anyway, illness be damned. She was to stay by her baby’s side every second she could. Dr. Clarkson nodded. 

“And the Winstons are free to go.” Mary muttered, grateful at least that Y/N would not have to spend another moment in the same house as those girls. 

“Can I…” Tom tried to keep his composure as he looked down at his wife. “Can I hold her hand?” Dr. Clarkson’s eyes were filled with pity for the poor man. Tom didn’t want his pity. He wanted him to save his wife. 

“Of course.” 

“Must you all speak of me as if I’m not here?” You laughed weakly, your limbs heavy as you tried to move them. Tom was at your side in an instant. “You aren’t making a fuss of me, are you?” This was supposed to be Sybil’s dinner and you hated to ruin it. Tom laid a hand on your cheek. 

“You gave me quite a scare, darling.” His eyes were red from crying, making you feel even more guilty. 

“Now that you’re awake, I would like to do a more thorough examination.” Dr. Clarkson suggested. If they could determine how much the illness had progressed, he may be able to give the family more of an answer. He motioned towards the door and the family began to file out. Tom stayed beside you. 

“Tom,” Sybil began gently. “I’m afraid you’ll need to leave. Only for a few moments.” At first, he didn’t move. He couldn’t. His eyes were locked on his wife and he couldn’t bear to tear them away. 

“It’s best we all stay out of Sybil’s way.” You gave him the most reassuring smile you could muster. He nodded slightly and leaned over to kiss your forehead. 

“I’ll just be out in the hall.” He promised before reluctantly following the rest of the family out of the room. He felt as if all of the strength had left him. He could barely stand without leaning against the banister. His Y/N. His beautiful Y/N. She would be alright. She had to be. 

“Is there anything we can do, Tom? Anything at all?” Matthew asked, his wife standing silently beside him. Tom had always known Mary to be cold and lacking emotion, but now her eyes were filled with a sorrow that he’d never seen in them before. 

“Pray.” Tom choked out. Matthew gave him a sympathetic look and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Of course.” He wished that there was something else. Anything else. Tom was a good friend and he and Y/N deserved happiness. Matthew began to head downstairs, but his wife lingered. Mary looked as if she wanted to say something, but she just couldn’t find the words. She turned and followed her husband just as Edith was ushering the Winston’s out the door now that they were cleared to leave. 

Abigail and Margaret looked as if this were nothing more than an annoying inconvenience rather than someone’s life at stake. Abigail looked up and saw a distressed Tom and leaned over to his sister, hardly lowering her voice. 

“Look at him. Surely he’s the one who killed her. Who knows what sort of illnesses she’s contracted in that dirty country. And that train!” They shook their heads. He shrunk away, her words sinking into him like claws. Mary had had enough. 

“Have you no decency, Abigail?” She hissed, breaking away from Matthew to confront her. 

“I beg your pardon?” The family halted in their tracks and Edith gave her sister a pleading look. She didn’t want things worse than they already were. 

“First, you blatantly insult my sister at dinner and now you mock her husband as his poor wife lay ill and possibly dying!” She had raised her voice beyond what was proper but at the moment she didn’t care if the Queen heard her. “How dare you come in this home and act in such a manner.” 

“Really, Mary, did you expect all of society to accept your new… connections?” Margaret interjected, though Lady Crawley’s ferocity frightened her. 

“Those connections are my sister and my brother-in-law.” Mary fired back. Matthew was too stunned to intervene, and besides, he couldn’t help but feel pride fill his heart. “Former chauffeur or not, Tom Branson is more welcome here than you shall ever be. Now leave here and never come back.” 

“I will dismiss your outburst since your sister is dying.” Abigail held her chin up, her last words spoken with venom. “I do hope she gets better.” With that, the family scurried out quickly to avoid any more altercations. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” Tom’s quiet voice surprised Mary. He had joined them at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes sunken and red. If one didn’t know, they would think he was the one who was dying. Mary straightened her shoulders. 

“Believe me, Tom, I have been waiting to do that for years.” Sybil emerged from the room, signaling that it was okay to come back. The three rushed up the stairs, quickly joined by Cora and Robert. 

“This illness works quicker than anything I’ve ever seen.” Dr. Clarkson sighed, standing in the doorway. Tom looked at him in horror. 

“What does that mean?” Sybil stepped towards him. 

“Tom-”

“What does it mean!” He didn’t mean to be so rough when he grabbed Sybil’s shoulders. 

“Unhand her at once.” Robert ordered. The tensions were high and stress made everyone act strangely. 

“Papa, it’s alright.” Sybil slowly took Tom’s hands off of her, keeping a gentle gaze into his eyes. “Tom, I need you to try and calm down. Y/N needs to rest and we don’t want to upset her. Can you do that for me?” He swallowed hard and nodded before proceeding into the room. 

“I’ve caused a good deal of trouble, haven’t I?” You cried, weakly reaching out to your sister. “I’m sorry for ruining your birthday, Sybil.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You haven’t ruined anything.” Sybil smiled at you and Mary admired her ability to remain so sunny in such a dark time. 

“How are you feeling, love?” Tom took his place beside you, softly kissing your forehead. “I feel absolutely fine. I’m not sure what you’re all so worried about.” You teased, but laughing made your head ache terribly. 

“We must allow her to rest.” Dr. Clarkson instructed. “I recommend all of you to do the same.” Truthfully, he worried that an abundance of people in the room would excite you and make things worse. Mary and Matthew walked towards you and your eldest sister placed a hand on your cheek. 

“Married or not, you are still a Crawley woman. And us Crawley women never give up without a fight.” She said affectionately before she and her husband retired to their room. Your father put a hand on your mother’s shoulder. 

“Cora…”

“I’m staying here.” She pulled up a chair beside Tom. 

“Dr. Clarkson said-”

“I’m sure Dr. Clarkson has no quarrels with her mother staying with her.” Dr. Clarkson, of course, had no argument as long as Y/N was able to rest. 

“Mama, at least change into something more comfortable.” You instructed. She was still in her dinner clothes and you would hate for her to try and sleep in them. They could be dreadfully uncomfortable. After a moment’s hesitation, she agreed and went with your father to their room. Now, you wished to speak to your husband. “Sybil, Dr. Clarkson, would you mind stepping out? I would like to have a moment with Tom.” 

“Of course, dear.” Sybil dipped the cool cloth in the water before returning it to your forehead. Once the two were gone, you could see Tom’s resolve begin to crack. His shaking hand brought yours up and held it against his cheek. 

“Y-you must get better, my love.” He stammered, kissing your palm. He held back a sob. Tom was a strong man, but he was not one to hide his emotions for long. It broke your heart to see him like this. 

“My dear, you mustn’t shed tears for me.” You soothed, brushing a fallen tear away with your delicate fingers. “Everything is going to be alright.” You didn’t dare show him the fear that was slowly consuming you. You didn’t want to die. You hadn’t lived enough to die now. You wanted to grow old with the man you loved, to have a big family in Ireland and to watch your children run in the fields. You wanted to gather every Christmas and teach them songs. You wanted to kiss your children goodnight before falling asleep in your husband’s arms. 

“This is all my fault.” Tom uttered, now gently kissing the inside of your wrist. “Those women… they were right.” Abigail Winston’s words still cut deeply into his heart. “If I hadn’t taken you… if you had stayed here, at home with your family, this wouldn’t have happened. I should have cared for you, kept you safe. I should have-”

“Tom, stop this.” You sat up, fighting the heaviness in your limbs and ignoring your pounding head. “Those petulant girls know nothing but the comfort of their spoiled, insignificant lives. Their cruel hearts could never hold a love like the love I have for you. Whatever they have said came from a place of hatred and jealousy. This illness is in no way your fault, my darling.” 

“But if I hadn’t taken you from your home-”

“Downton isn’t my home, Tom.” You smiled. “My home is by your side, no matter where we are. My heart will always belong with you.” Tom mustered a small smile and pulled you into his arms. 

Dr. Clarkson and Sybil came back in, along with your mother. You were saddened by your father’s absence. You had hoped to mend your relationship if the worst should happen. Sybil continued cooling your arms and face with the water while Dr. Clarkson looked over his notes to find anything that could help treat the illness. 

“Is it alright for me to lie with her?” Tom begged, wanting to hold you in his arms so that you would not be afraid. Dr. Clarkson gave him a solemn nod. Tom climbed into the bed beside you and you rested your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you. 

“Tom, I didn’t have the opportunity to apologize for the behavior of our guests.” Cora began grimly. 

“There’s no need, Lady Grantham.”

“I will not allow my family to be spoken to in such a manner.” She gave him a motherly smile and he realized that she meant it. She saw him as part of the family. Aside from Dr. Clarkson and Sybil’s murmurs to each other, the room fell silent. Exhausted from a hectic and emotional night, both Cora and Tom fell asleep, your mother resting her head on your hand and your husband holding onto you as if he alone could keep you from drifting away into the dark. 

You too closed your eyes, but only for an hour or so. When you opened them, Dr. Clarkson had gone- back to the hospital for supplies- and Sybil was sitting in a chair reading. Standing beside Cora was your father, looking down at you with tears in his eyes. You felt your heart swell with joy. He was here. 

“Papa,” You sighed happily, slowly moving your hand so you didn’t wake your mother. You reached it out to him and he took it. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” He exclaimed. “I could not stay tucked in bed knowing you were suffering.” You felt a surge of emotion and tried to keep your cries quiet so you wouldn’t alarm Sybil. 

“Tell me…” You took a shaking breath. “Tell me that we have not severed our ties forever. Tell me that you still hold a place in your heart for the daughter that married the driver.” 

“Y/N, sweet girl, while it is not the marriage I would have picked for you, I think of you every day. You never left my heart or my mind. You are my child. My familyYou will always be loved here.” You shared a smile, tears falling onto your cheeks. You looked to your husband.

“Can I ask something of you?”

“Anything you need.” Robert drew closer, leaning so that he could hear you better without you having to raise your voice. 

“If I-” You struggled to keep your voice from cracking. “If I don’t wake tomorrow, can you promise me something?”

“Must you talk like that-”

“Please, father.” You pleaded and he nodded. You brushed a stray hair away from Tom’s face, his steady breathing warm on your skin. “If I don’t wake tomorrow, will you care for him? I know he’ll return home, but could you look after him? He’s such a good man, papa.” You turned back to your father, tears coming faster now. “I do not wish for him to feel alone. I want him to be happy, even if it is without me.” You couldn’t not stop the sob that escaped your mouth and Sybil looked up from your reading. 

“Y/N, what is it, what’s wrong?”

“Please promise, father.” You begged. “Please say you’ll take care of him.” Robert clutched your hand tightly. 

“I promise.” You shared a quiet, tearful moment and knew that all was well between you. If you should succumb to your fever, at least you knew you were with the people you loved and who loved you in return. With that comfort, you closed your eyes and fell asleep.

-

Tom woke to the bright sun shining through the windows and the feeling of his wife’s cold skin. The complete terror that raced through him nearly stopped his heart. People were rushing around him, pulling him out of the bed and away from you. Cora was rushed out of the room before she even knew what was going on. 

“Let me go.” Tom begged, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t speak correctly, unable to breathe. “Y/N. What’s wrong with her? Y/N!” Regaining his voice he began to shout, struggling against the servant that was holding him. “Sybil, what’s wrong? What’s going on? Let me go!” 

“Turn her on her side.” Sybil instructed Anna. Dr. Clarkson was in a panic. 

“There’s too many people in here.” He exclaimed. He didn’t have time to be sympathetic. Sybil looked at Tom. 

“I’m sorry, but you have to go.” She nodded at the servant holding him and he was dragged from the room. 

“No! I won’t leave her!!” He cried, fighting as hard as he could. He was sure he punched Thomas, but more servants were able to get a hold of him and pull him out. “She’s my wife, let me go! Y/N!” The door was slammed in his face and he desperately pounded his fist against the wood. “Let me in! Sybil, let me in!” 

“What is it? What’s happened?” Mary emerged from her room at the commotion, Matthew joining her. Cora was right beside him, begging her daughter to let her in the room. 

“Something’s wrong, they said we had to leave. She looked so pale.” Cora was starting to break into hysterics. She couldn’t lose her baby. 

“Oh god, Y/N!” Tom yelled again, banging on the door. Anna was barely able to get out without him pushing passed her. 

“Mr. Branson, Lady Grantham, Dr. Clarkson and Sybil need you to wait in the library until someone comes and finds you.” She felt strange, giving commands to Lady Grantham, but Sybil had specifically instructed her. Before either of them could argue, she added. “They can’t help her unless you let them. Please.” 

“Mama, we must let them work.” Mary pleaded, taking her mother’s hands. Her worried gaze switched to her brother-in-law. “Tom, we have to go.” 

“I won’t leave her.” He sobbed. 

“You’re not leaving her. You’re letting them help her.” 

He finally complied, following them down into the library while other members of the family slowly filed in. They all rushed to comfort Cora, only Matthew noticing when he slipped out of the room. He took refuge in one of the staircases that the servants used. The stairs he once used. In the silence, he sat down on a step and broke down. He gripped the railing, his body shaking it with his sobs. He thought he was alone. 

“Forgive me, I did not know you were in here.” Mrs. Hughes said suddenly, though she made no move to leave. Instead, she sat down beside him. There, in that staircase, he was just Mr. Branson- the rebellious chauffeur who brought so much love to this house- and he was about to lose his wife. “Poor lad.” She sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch and found himself curling up beside her like a young boy crying to his mother. And she let him cry. 

It seemed like years had passed when Matthew opened the door. Tom was unable to read his expression. 

“Come quickly.” Was all he said. Tom didn’t wait for anything else. Outside the door, Cora stood, crying heavily. Tom tried to brace himself as he went in. He immediately fell to his knees beside the bed. 

You smiled at him, the color and warmth slowly starting to return to your face. 

“She’s going to be alright.” Dr. Clarkson informed happily. Tom pulled you into his embrace, both of you crying with relief. You pushed back slightly. 

“Perhaps we can go home now?” You laughed lightly. Tom put his hand on your cheek, looking into your eyes. 

“My darling,” He gently kissed your lips, “you are my home.” 

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto;

[ladyanput]

Seeing Green Ch.11

I gave zero fucks this chapter. I promise I'll make up for it in the next one.

---

    Marinette stared down at her cell phone with a blank look, before she took in a deep breath, raising her gaze to Bruce, who was sitting across the table from her. She and the Waynes were seating in the dining hall, with the kwami from the Miraculous box flying around, exploring everything they could get their tiny hands on.

    “Mr. Wayn- um, Bruce? I was thinking, since you said you were going to get the Justice League in on the entire Paris situation, I want my team in on it too.” Marinette said firmly as Alfred set down a delicate china cup in front of her, filled with fragrant, flowery tea. 

    “You have a team? I thought you just had the pervy cat.” Jason rose a brow, his hand clenched tight around a mug of coffee. He had been tense ever since they had returned to the manor without Eva, but was holding himself together rather well. 

    “Oh, I have three other members in my team. Queen Bee, Viperion, and Ryuko.” Marinette sipped the tea, then hummed in approval. She motioned to Wayzz, who made his way down and indulged himself in some of the tea as well. “They are keeping Paris safe while I’m away. I find it odd, from what they’ve told me there has been no akuma attacks in the city since I left.”

    “Maybe the crazy butterfly man is taking a holiday?” Tim snorted as he downed his coffee as well, ignoring a glare from Damian. “Or maybe he left the country?”

    “Angel, are you sure Paris would be safe if you brought your team here and left the city unattended?” Damian reached over and gently took her hand, lacing their fingers gently. He smiled at her and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I just mean that, I wouldn’t want anyone hurt.”

    “I’m sure. A lot of things need to be done now, thanks to all that’s happened.” Marinette got to her feet, a determined look on her face, her blue eyes sparking with a fierceness. “I need to find Hawkmoth, I need a stable team and I just want this all over. I mean, first I need to find a new Black Cat holder, then I need to introduce Lady Vixen to the team, and hopefully Alya won’t be akumatized, and-”

    “Miss Marinette.” Alfred quieted her by setting a hand on her shoulder when he noticed the girl had begun to tremble. The older gentleman gave her a kind smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder. “There is no need to fret for now. Just take a deep breath, your parents are on a flight over here, remember? They are due to arrive in a few hours, perhaps you should just take some time to collect yourself? You were just faced through many traumatic incidents in only a short week, so I suggest just laying low for at least a day?”

    “Alfred’s right. If you get too worked up right now, you’re going to overexert yourself, maybe even make rash decisions.” Bruce gave the girl a kind smile, then after a moment of silence, he nodded. “But once your parents are here and settled, you can bring your team here without issue, then we can contact the League. Hawkmoth has tormented Paris long enough and he needs to be dealt with before it gets too far out of control.”

    Marinette visibly relaxed, but then tensed when she heard the sound of someone running. Evangeline appeared in the doorway, clutching the Fox miraculous tightly in her hand and seeming visibly shaking.

    “Eva, what happened, are you okay?” Marinette took a step towards her, but Eva held a hand up, stopping her in her tracks. “Eva?”

    Evangeline was quiet as she went over and embraced Jason tightly, buried her face in his chest and trembled. Jason held her close, concern flickering across his features before he led her out of the room before anyone could say a word.

    Marinette stared after them before she hugged herself tightly. What on earth had happened?

    …

    When Marinette’s parents arrived and rushed to embrace her, the young girl let loose the tears she had been holding in. She wept and sobbed in her mother’s embrace, while her father talked quietly with Bruce, thanking the man for paying for their tickets to get to Gotham.

    “Well I know she would have wanted her family with her after facing such an experience. And the two of you must have been worried sick when you heard that Marinette had gone missing.” Bruce shook Tom’s hand, exchanging a look with Damian as a confused look crossed the parents’ faces.

    “We were never informed. We only heard about it when you called us, Mr. Wayne.” Sabine admitted, fury brimming at the edge of her tone as she spoke. She held her daughter tighter as realization settled in. “We had never been told about the incident with the other villain either.”

    “I-I’m so sorry, Mama, I should have called, I’m so so sorry..” Marinette hiccuped as she tried to wipe away her tears, her nose and eyes red from crying.

    “You mean to tell me Caline never called you? She never once informed anyone of what happened in Gotham?” Evangeline, in a much better state now, looked ready to take something heavy and go beat up one Miss Caline Bustier. “She should have called you the moment she realized Marinette was missing! The moment she knew that your daughter was being held captive with a gun to her head! Tom, Sabine, I’m sorry that I didn’t call.”

    “That’s enough, both of you” Sabine’s firm tone made any more apologies die off both ladies’ lips. “What matters is that Marinette is safe and that horrible boy is in jail. Honestly, I hope his foolish father doesn’t try to turn this around on her.”

    “Knowing Gabriel Agreste, he’ll get his secretary to handle everything while he stays back in his mansion and cries about his missing wife.” Eva commented dryly, crossing her arms and grinning when she heard a giggle leave Marinette’s lips. “Okay, enough of this sappy stuff. I am starving and I think we’ve all cried enough for one day. No one is dead, so let’s get some dinner and talk about our course of action from here, such as getting Marinette home.”

    “But the Wayne Gala!” Marinette blurted out the words before she could stop herself. She suddenly looked sheepish at all of the stares being sent her way, and shifted uncomfortably. “I-it’s in a few days and I was really looking forward to attending. Please? I made Eva and I dresses and everything.”

    “I don’t know…” Tom’s brow furrowed as he didn’t quite grasp why his daughter didn’t want to leave the city where she had faced such horrible things. But when he caught sight of how one of the Wayne boys and his daughter were looking at each other, it clicked, it was the same look he always gave Sabine. The two of them were in love, even if they didn’t realize it yet. “Well… One or two days couldn’t hurt, but afterwards we’re going straight home and contacting the school board about this entire incident. It wouldn’t have happened in the first place if your teacher had been more careful.”

    There were many hums of agreement and Marinette hugged her father tightly, squealing in excitement. She’d get the dream night, one last perfect night with Damian before she had to go home to Paris and deal with the headache that is her class and the torment that is one Lila Rossi.

…

Gabriel frowned as he entered the filthy, disgusting Gotham police station with Natalie. This is why he hated going out in public, people were so disgusting, so sloppy and uncouth. He had to get his son out of here before they all corrupted him.

"Pardon me." Natalie stepped forward towards the reception desk, her face a perfect blank slate as she gazed the woman at the desk now. "We are here to take Adrien Agreste home."

"Are you his legal guardian?" The woman behind the glass rose a brow, before Gabriel stepped forward and showed his ID. The receptionist nodded and pushed a button on the com. "Commissioner, Adrien Agreste's legal guardians are here."

Gabriel felt an irk of irritation as a gruff looking cop stepped through the doors, eyeing the duo before holding out his hand.

"Commissioner Gordon. I take it you're Gabriel Agreste? Sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances." Gordon kept his hand held out, but when he got none in return, he dropped his hand and guided the man back towards the cells, where Adrien was being kept. 

Adrien was found curled up in a corner, looking dazed, his left cheek covered in scratches from Lady Vixen's sharp claws.

"Son, what have you done this time?" Gabriel stepped forward, barely hidden fury being heard in his tone. Adrien raised his gaze and met his father's, allowing Gabriel to see the madness in his eyes.

"Father, I had my Miraculous taken away."

…

Marinette sighed as she stepped into the library and saw Eva sitting in one of the comfy chairs, staring down at her Miraculous with Trixx on her shoulder.

"Evangeline, what happened today?" Marinette stepped forward and nearly froze when Trixx's and Eva's eyes snapped up, both pairs of eyes the same shade of unearthly purple.

"I don't deserve this Miraculous." Eva blurted out, moving to unclasp the necklace, but Marinette quickly moved to stop her, her gut clenching at the sight of the shakiness in Eva's eyes. "Marinette, I'm a loose cannon, I attacked Adrien so easily, I-"

"Why did you, though? I've seen you angry, but never so ready to cause physical harm like that. I mean, it was so out of left field for you." She hugged her friend, giving her back a few gentle pats.

"... My ex boyfriend said the same thing to me. I was trapped because he had me in this horrible abusive relationship and I didn't ever leave because… Because he kept threatening to kill himself." Eva stared down at her trembling hands, before letting out a shaky whimper. "One day I did. And as I was shoving my bags into my car, he came out of the house with a gun. He called me name, put the barrel in his mouth, and-"

Marinette didn't need to know the rest.

"But I saw a therapist and I worked through that shit. He did that to hurt me, to spite me. It wasn't my fault, he would have done anything to control me or to hurt me. So that's why I'm so adamant on you seeing a therapist, sugar cookie." Eva took her hand gently, giving it a squeeze. "It wasn't your fault. It was never your fault, Adrien was bound to do this because no one ever told him no, no one ever taught him right. Yes, like Plagg explained, the Miraculous may have corrupted him, but that shouldn't excuse him from what he did."

Marinette was quiet for a long time, trying to digest those words as she left the library, allowing Trixx to talk to her newfound kit in peace.

Marinette wandered the halls of Wayne Manor, her mind just… Gone. Off trying to process all that had happened to her in only a few days. When she finally came out of her senses, she found herself standing in front of Damian's bedroom door. With a small smile, she knocked.

Damian answered the door, his eyes lit with concern as soon as he realized who it was. But before he could get a word out, Marinette reached up and pulled him down for a soft kiss.

"Thank you. Thank you so much for respecting me." 

"Angel, where did this come from?" Damian let out a surprised laugh as he gathered Marinette close, giving her forehead a soft kiss.

"Today just made me realize that if you find shut that treats you right, you should never let him go." Mari shrugged and smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.

Tim, who decided to exit his bedroom just at that very moment, made a gagging noise and went off to discuss with his brothers that he needed to stop coming across random make out sessions. It was getting utterly ridiculous.

…

Marinette set the Miraculous box down on the coffee table, as the Wayne family watched. She pulled out what looked like a pair of glasses, and smiled as Kaalki gave her a muzzle, then opened up a portal.

Out of the portal stepped Chloé Bourgeois, Luka Couffaine, and Kagami Tsurugi. The trio brightened at the sight of Marinette and rushed forward, old friends hugging onto each other for dear life.

"Are you sure the League will listen this time?" Kagami took a step back, wearily eyeing Bruce Wayne. "They've been ignoring our calls for years."

"They'll listen, we'll make them listen if it's the last thing we do." Marinette said firmly.

Soon the entire team was down in the Bat cave, facing the monitor. Ladybug stood with Ryuko, Queen Bee, Viperion, and Lady Vixen as the Justice League came onto the screen.

She forced a smile as she introduced herself, and fought back tears as she thought of the partner that would never be introduced.

If only she had been stronger, she could have saved him.

Taglist: @realrandomposts @interobanginyourmom @ladybug-182 @ladylb @zalladane @mochinek0 @persephonebutkore @urbanpineapplefarmer @vixen-uchiha @angelofmusickaterinapetrova @thewheezingbubbledragon @northernbluetongue @violatiger8 @thequestionablyhuman @ginamarie1512 @maude-zarella @2sunchild2 @saphiraazure2708 @ayuchan07 @virgil-is-a-cutie @thepeacetea

[elisaphoenix13]

Mama Bear Drabble 48

Drabble prompt: "I couldn't let you leave without telling you that you are important to me."

By: @funkylittlebidiot (posted with permission).

Laughter rang loudly throughout the living room, cut off by yells and curses as Peter once again beat Thomas at Mario Kart. Cassie and Harley sat on the couch, yelling encouragements or distracting the players. William sat back as he watched it all in fond amusement.

Though the scene warmed him and he could still barely believe that he was experiencing it - that he was part of it - he felt like his battery had been depleted.

He needed some peace and quiet; time to think about everything that had happened over the last two weeks.

From living on the streets to having a warm bed to sleep in, a group of people to stand by and support him, and friends who liked spending time with him,… it was quite the change.

William still felt like it could slip through his fingertips at any moment. He wanted to enjoy it while he could, but he didn’t trust himself not to get attached. He always did, and fate had never before been on their side.

Even though he hated to admit it, he usually got attached before they’d even arrive at the new foster home. He’d always been too much of a dreamer, couldn’t stop his heart’s excitement at the possibility that this next family would be it, would be theirs. No matter how many times he had been wrong, he couldn’t stop hoping.

He got up out of his seat, quietly as to not alert anyone of his movements as he went in search of a quiet corner.

He was good at that; finding holes to hide away in. It was the first thing he did when arriving at a new foster home or school.

The tower was huge, however, and he hadn’t felt the need to, here. He’d found ten promising nooks on his way from the elevator to his room when he’d first arrived, so he figured he could find a place if he needed one.

Besides, it was the first place where they'd had their own rooms.

His first plan was to just head into the kitchen, but when he passed the open door to Tony’s study, he noticed something of interest in the corner.

Glancing around nervously, he took a step inside and was reminded of what Stephen had told him when he’d arrived, about having questions.

“FRIDAY, am I allowed to be in here?”

“Of course,” the voice confirmed from the ceiling. William wasn’t sure he’d ever be used to that. “There are no restricted areas in the tower, except for some parts of the lab and Stark Industry floors.”

“Thank you,” he responded, walking over the chessboard that had caught his attention.

He’d always been intrigued by chess. It had always seemed like this whimsical thing wealthy people just had standing around; the older, prettier, and less used, the better.

Though he’d always eyed the chess tables in the park or library with longing, he’d never had an opportunity to learn.

He took a seat, enjoying how the little nook was quiet despite the yelling still emanating from the living room, and how its spot against the glass allowed him a gorgeous view of the city below.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, William?”

“Can you play chess?”

“I could tell you which pieces to move in my stead, yes.”

“Would you teach me?”

The next hour was spend playing chess against the AI. Once he’d learned each piece’s movements and the aim of the game, it seemed so simple. Still, he never came close to beating FRIDAY. He didn’t mind, though, just enjoyed the game and how it was engaging his mind.

“Bishop to G4.” William leaned over to move FRIDAY’s piece, thinking over the board critically before making his own move.

“You left your queen vulnerable, William. Knight to E3; check.”

“Damn,” William muttered under his breath, before moving his tower to protect his queen. “Any advice on what I should have done instead?”

A soft knock on the doorframe startled William, freezing when he noticed Stephen in the doorway.

“May I interrupt?”

He nodded on autopilot, watching Stephen’s every move as he walked over and took a seat opposite him. “So this is where you’ve been hiding?”

William couldn't be sure if he was imagining the hint of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he started, eyes wide, “I asked FRIDAY if I was allowed to be in here and -“

“Of course you are,” Stephen tutted, sending William a reassuring smile. “The other kids just don’t usually come in here. They wouldn’t find anything interesting.”

William didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t bother. He had learned it was best to stay quiet; to just follow the adult’s lead.

“Would you mind if I cut in, FRIDAY?”

“Of course not, Doctor Strange.”

Stephen eyed the board critically, before moving a piece and glancing back up at William. “So, how have you been settling in?”

William kept his gaze on the board, using it as an excuse to hide the warmth spreading up his neck. He tried to think of what piece to move, but he was too nervous to focus.

“F-Fine. Vision and Wanda are very kind for sharing their floor with us.” He felt better after the words had left his mouth, able to breathe more easily now he didn’t have to worry about giving a response. He thought for another second before making his move.

“They’re happy to share,” Stephen smiled as he made his own move.

“They want to take us out for furniture and stuff…,” William blurted out, something that had been on his mind. They’d been trying to postpone it as much as possible, but they were getting more and more persistent. Sitting here in the quiet of their chess game, he, for some reason, felt compelled to bring it up. It felt like a safe space; as if they had nothing better to do than discuss what was bothering him. “Though it’s not like we have any money.”

“Of course you do,” Stephen said matter-of-factly, not even looking up from the board as he studied his next move. “What’s ours is yours.”

“That’s-“

“William, you’re part of our family.” William’s heart stopped when Stephen looked up and met his eyes in a stern gaze. They were a clear blue and fierce, removing any room for debate. “First thing every new kid learns is that we have more than we could ever spend - if some of it goes to making you happy, it’s a worthy cause.”

William didn’t know what to say. He found refuge in the game, looking away from Stephen’s eyes to focus on the board again.

“You haven’t told me how you’re feeling,” Stephen noticed as he was quick to move a piece as if he’d anticipated William’s move. “‘Fine’ isn't the full extent of your feelings, I’m sure. It must be a lot to take in.”

“Not really.” William shrugged, surprising himself by how easily he had said the words. “I mean, we’re used to moving around a lot and living with strangers… it’s just that this place is obviously a lot nicer than we’re used to.”

He made his move, waving off his words. “I don’t want to get accustomed.”

William looked up in time to catch Stephen frowning at him and cursed internally at having said the wrong thing. He'd been getting too comfortable again. It was hard not to when his intuition didn't pick up any red flags from Stephen - which was rare when it came to adults. He quickly ducked his head, trying to hide his blush.

“You’re not going anywhere, William.” Stephen’s voice was firm and determined, convincing William to glance back up at him. “You or your brother.”

The yelling from the living room, which had been a hum in the background, grew louder. William pretended to get distracted by it as he couldn't come up with a response.

Stephen sighed as he followed his gaze, glaring in the direction of the living room. There was a loud thudding sound before someone yelled an affronted “MOM!”.

William hesitantly glanced towards Stephen. He wasn’t expecting him to get angry - he had seen enough in his two weeks here that he knew Stephen wasn’t the type. He knew normal parents don’t usually get upset about some noise, but he hadn’t expected him to roll his eyes with so much fondness either. It seemed too out of place.

“It was nice sitting in the quiet with you, William,” Stephen turned back to him with a smile, though he did seem genuinely regretful to leave, “but I’m afraid duty calls.”

William nodded, turning back to look at how they’d left the board. He wanted to finish the game with FRIDAY, and leave Stephen to resolve whatever was going on, before joining the rest again.

“One thing,” Stephen said, causing William to look up at him again with a questioning expression. “I can’t leave without telling you that you are important to me. You and Thomas.”

William swallowed against the lump in his throat, not sure how to react, but Stephen wasn’t yet finished. He took a step closer to him, placing a comforting hand on William’s shoulder. He looked up to meet his eyes, finding Stephen watching him with a soft smile.

“I know that might seem hard to believe after only two weeks, but we get attached quickly.” He grinned, lightly squeezing William’s shoulder before stepping away. “Like it or not; you’re stuck with us.”

[winnie-the-monster]

“Mama, we are in a library. For once you must allow me to look at book.”

[hayleyb100]

Richard’s Childhood

Ever since I was a little child, my life was full of aches. Every day was a struggle to live. Eating food was like swallowing a mouthful of sand, and my fragile body constantly screamed out pain everywhere. I was never allowed to go outside, as my immune system was so weak.

With all the gloominess, colors did not exist in my world. The endless loop of going back and forth from the hospital and home was a life filled with monochrome. Despite my parents giving me a name Richard which meant strong, brave, and hardy, I was none of that. My life was always on the line. And because life was so painful, I was not the sweetest of the children. I was an introverted, dismal, cowardly child who never really chatted or had fun.

And it was a few weeks before my birthday. I caught a terrible cold so I was hospitalized yet again. I was not particularly sad about it because it was an annual thing and I could not enjoy any of the birthday goodies. All the cakes were too sweet for my stomach, and I did not have any friends to celebrate it with.

Few weeks passed, and it was only a few days before my birthday. The illness subsided, but I was still in the hospital. I quietly watched kids of my age playing with their pokemons outside the park, sitting on the uncomfortable hospital bed filled with envy. 

It was an obvious thing that kids get their first pokemons and grow strong with them, but even that simple joy wasn't allowed to me. It was hard to swallow all the sorrow to myself. I didn't want my parents to know that I was struggling internally. 

They were such loving parents who showered me with their affection all the time. They constantly told me they love me, and tried all means to make me comfortable. But the more they try, the more I felt sorry because my body just didn't get better.

"Richard, dear." Mother's voice rang from behind, so I looked back.

"Have you decided what you want for your birthday?"

I lowered my head. I know what I desperately wanted for my birthday, but it was obvious that they would say no. It was way too 'dangerous' for me.

"I can see there's something you want in your eyes. What is it, darling? Name it, and dad will try his best to get it for you. It's a remarkable day that you came to us." Father beamed from ear to ear.

I was so nervous when I was asking for that year's birthday present, as it was the wildest thing I could ask for.

"I... I want... a friend, father."

My parents stared at me with round eyes, processing what I asked for.

"But I understand... I know it is something I cannot get on my will. Not with this health... I know no one would want a friend who is bedridden all the time... But I am just... lonely."

I could see my parents' face contorting with pain.

Oh, no. I should not have said that. I dropped my head in shame. I just made my parents feel bad with a wish that can never be granted. I'm the worst...

__________________________________

A few days later, it was my birthday, but I was not jolly at all. I could not just enjoy it after making my parents feel terrible. While I was quietly watching people out the window, my parents called me from the back.

"Richard."

To my surprise, they were beaming once again, hiding something behind them.

"We're sorry that we were so ignorant about your loneliness. It must have been hard for you, right?" with that, father stroked my head with love.

"So, your mother and I decided to give you something very special."

upon saying that, father revealed what he was hiding behind his hand, and I gasped in surprise.

In his hand, was a Pokeball.

"F... Father, that is..."

"It is indeed what you think, dear. It's your first pokemon. We were deciding what pokemon could be your great friend, and we thought this kind, safe-to-cuddle pokemon would just suit you perfectly."

father happily handed the Pokeball to me. I could not believe I just got a pokemon like a normal child. With a trembling hand, I pressed the button on the Pokeball.

And that is when I got a fateful encounter.

"Isn't she adorable?" mother asked, as thrilled as I was.

"Say hello, Richard. She is a pokemon called Milcery."

"Cery!"

"Umm, h... hello." even at that moment, when I was losing my breath in excitement, all I did was to bid a clumsy greeting.

And despite the strange greeting, she smiled at me.

Upon her innocent smile, I smiled in a long, long while.

It was when colors started to dye my grey life.

"Will you name her, Richard?" father asked, wearing the smile of gladness.

I decided her name immediately after seeing that gentle smile.

"I think I will name her... Mildred. Meaning 'kind-hearted'."

__________________________________

Mildred was surely a blessing to my whole family.

I did not feel like I was a useless, spoiled child who only knows how to receive my parents' love anymore. I realized that I could take care and help someone else too. And whenever Mildred expressed joy to my cares, I grew confident with myself.

The sincere heart of me wanting to take care of Mildred better motivated me to study more and more about pokemon. For the first time in my life, I wanted to do something with my will. As I studied more about the fascinating beings, the more I hoped to meet them in the outside world. To support my passion, my parents made a little library of my own where I can read all day long without a care in the world.

So, I started to take the medication and treatments seriously in the hope to get better, and to my surprise, it did indeed. With the will and new dream, the treatments began to show effects. And what's more surprising was that it was not just painful anymore.

My parents were overjoyed at the positive changes that occurred to me as well. So to support my dream of going outside to meet a lot of pokemons, they fostered many different pokemons so that I can befriend and get in contact with them at home before I got better. They showed Mildred gratitude too. Before she came, they were only anxious and jumpy about me, but after seeing I cared for many pokemons along with Mildred, they grew trusty and relaxed.

The precious memory and pure delight I got from caring pokemons led to my dream of the pokemon rescuer. Mildred and other pokemons not only saved my life but also blessed me with my life-time dream. I could never return their favor. But until I draw my last breath, I am determined to save and care any pokemons within my reach. It is the least I could do to return their love.

__________________________________

"Wow... So that's how you became a pokemon rescuer, papa??"

"Yes, my dear child. And that is the sole reason why you should cherish your pokemons. They are your life companion and your greatest friend."

"Awesome! Thank you, Mildred! You're a hero!"

"Mie!"

"Hey, Goomy! Trapinch! Let's try our best to become a pokemon rescuer too! I wanna wear a cool cape and fly on a pokemon like the Noivern like you!"

"Goo, goo!"

"Pin!"

"Oh, wait, but I also wanna be a strong pokemon trainer like mama! What should I do??"

"Take your time, beloved. I am certain you will discover the path you want to walk with time."

"I'm going to cherish this Goomy you caught for me and Trapinch mama caught for me too!"

"That is very nice of you darling. Remember to love your pokemons all the time."

[twinkle-320]

Mommy-to-be

Pairing:  Drake x MC (Riley Nevin Walker)

A/N:  I wrote this for something fun and lighthearted.  I am currently working on a TRR AU that has me stuck and feeling sad so I needed some fluff in my life.  Baby showers are perfect for fluff.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2513

Tag list: @kingliam2019​ @batgirlassociationofgothamcity​ (If you only wanted to be tagged for mood boards, let me know.)

Rain pelted against the glass ceiling of the solarium in Valtoria, where Riley sat surrounded by her friends trying to keep up with their chatter.

“It should definitely be an apple theme,” Hana said in her usual calm, gentle tone.

“Oh please,” Olivia scoffed. “Practically every woman in Cordonia has a ridiculous apple themed baby shower. At least try to be original.”

“Well, do you have any ideas?”

“I think...”

“Don’t say knives,” Savannah interjected.

“Don’t be such a simpleton. I was going to say axes...you could make that work with apples if you must.”

“How about we ask Riley what she wants...it’s her shower,” Savannah suggested.

All eyes turned to Riley, who was staring out at the rain, lost in thought. Olivia snapped her fingers practically right in Riley’s face. “Riley...earth to Riley...are you still with us or did the baby get the last of your brain?”

“Hmm...what? I’m sorry, what were you asking?”

“Themes,” Hana said. “For your shower.”

“Yes, because that’s what good ‘friends’ do, we ask you to plan your own shower,” Olivia quipped.

“Oh, umm...well, I love Disney,” Riley said.

Olivia looked at her disgusted. “Disney? That god awful amusement park with the oversized rat and screaming demon children? Sure, that would definitely be better than axes.”

Savannah rolled her eyes at Olivia. “Disney could be cute and if Riley likes it, that’s what important.”

“Guys, I’ll be fine with any theme you want, really. My only request is that we have games.”

“You Americans and your games,” Olivia scoffed.

“Games and Disney. Don’t worry, Riley...we’ve got this. It will be perfect,” Hana assured her.

                                             —————————

As Riley inched closer and closer to her October due date, the day of her shower finally arrived. Everything had been planned with her knowledge so she could be prepared. It wouldn’t due to have a Duchess show up to her own shower in leggings and a hoodie. Select members of the press would be in attendance and a photo shoot was planned. Hana had helped Riley select an elegant, ivory lace maxi dress that perfectly hugged her bump. Her hair cascaded down her back in elegant waves and she wore rose gold flip flops to accommodate her swollen feet.

When Riley stepped into the gardens behind the estate, she was in awe. Soft pastels of pink, blue, green, and yellow accented the clean white color pallet. There was a giant balloon arch featuring all the colors set up over the dessert table. Hana had worked with a local baker on not one, but two perfect cakes. One was a two-tier cake in soft pinks and blues with Mickey and Minnie accents. The other was a nod to Riley’s favorite princess; a small replica of Cinderella’s coach also done in pink and blue. Elements of Disney were subtle and tasteful including Mickey silhouettes made of branches, vines, and flowers. Each table was named after a Disney character and featured lush centerpieces with hidden Mickey’s, lanterns with glittery rose gold Mickey heads hand-painted on the glass, and a Disney story book for those at the table to sign as a guest book. With over twenty tables, all the books would be the perfect start to a baby library. Tears sprang to her eyes as she took in the beautiful work her friends had done. All that was needed now was for the guests to arrive.

                                              —————————

Drake spent the morning working in the nursery away from the hustle and bustle of party set-up. Once her classes had wrapped for the semester, Riley finally settled on decor and gave Drake a to do list a mile long. Rustic woodland animals was the chosen theme. Riley thought it would be easy to add to after the baby arrived; floral elements if it was a girl or more woodsy elements if it was a boy. The walls were a soft ecru with an accent wall done in reclaimed barn wood. When Drake finished assembling the simple white crib Riley had chosen, he moved it into position against the wood wall and admired his efforts. In his pocket, his phone chimed, alerting him it was time to get ready for the party.

Once he was showered and changed, he headed to the gardens and found Riley standing over the dessert table. Sneaking up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and her growing belly. “Lay off the cookies, Nevin. Those are for the guests.”

Riley jumped and giggled. “Cookies weren’t my idea, Drake...Bean wants one.”

“Just like Bean wanted ice cream and s’mores last night?”

Riley turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. “This little one has a sweet tooth, what can I say.”

“Like mama, like baby,” Drake laughed. “So, this looks pretty awesome out here,” he said, turning to take in the set-up.

“Right?!?” Riley exclaimed. “It’s fucking amazing.” 

“Duchess Riley...language!”

Riley turned in the direction of the voice scolding her and wasn’t surprised to see Bertrand and Savannah approaching with their arms full of gifts.

“Holy shit guys, did you buy out the store?”

“You just can’t stop yourself, can you?” Bertrand asked.

Riley shrugged. “Nope. And no one’s here yet to hear me so stop fretting, Bertrand. Drake, don’t just stand there...help your sister,” she said, nudging him forward. Once the gifts were safely placed on the gift table, the group stood together chatting as other guests slowly started arriving.

“You and Hana did an amazing job,” Riley said to a beaming Savannah.

“I thought Liv helped too?” Drake asked. 

“She did...a little,” Savannah replied.

Riley laughed. “Should I be looking for hidden daggers in addition to the hidden Mickey’s?”

“No, we managed to keep daggers out of the decor. She had proposed a sword wielding Mickey ice sculpture but thankfully the sculptor refused for trademark reasons. We ended up putting her in charge of the food.”

“Great,” Drake groaned. “Can’t wait to see what kind of fancy crap she planned.”

Bertrand groaned and shook his head, looking like his head was about to explode. Savannah wisely took his hand and led him away to their table.

Ana de Luca quickly took their place at the happy couple’s side and ushered them deeper in to the garden for a quick photo shoot and interview before the festivities began. Riley was able to approve the digital proofs on the spot and an elegant black and white of her cradling her belly was chosen for the Trend cover.

When they arrived back at the party, nearly all the guests had arrived and things were in full swing. Drake was pleasantly surprised to see the buffet spread of comfort foods. There was a carving station with whole roasted chickens and herb crusted filet, and sides of garlic mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and steamed vegetables. Olivia’s personal touch was obvious due to the chefs wielding larger than necessary ornate knives for carving.

Hana was the perfect hostess, keeping things orderly as each table took their turn through the buffet. As guests filled their plates, she announced the first game...a Disney match game matching Disney characters to their parents. There was a print out at each place setting and guests could complete it at their leisure to turn in by the end of the meal.

Riley had taken a plate with a little bit of everything and promptly ignored it while she turned to the game with hyper focus.

“Nevin...are you gonna eat?”

“Huh...oh, yeah, I will. I just wanna get this done first.”

“Are you even allowed to play the games at your own shower?”

 “Of course I am, silly!”

When the meal was over, Hana had everyones game sheet and tallied the answers. “And the winner is...Duchess Riley,” she announced to the crowd.

 Most in attendance cheered or applauded politely but Riley heard the groans among her friends at her table.

Guests took the opportunity to mingle while Hana got set-up for baby shower bingo. Mingling was the perfect opportunity for the ongoing game of “Don’t say baby”. Each guest was given three clothes pins when they arrived. If they said the word baby at any point in a conversation, someone could steal one of their pins. Whoever had the most pins at the end would win a prize.

When Hana called for everyone to take their seats, Riley returned to her table with at least twenty-five pins clipped to the ruffle of her dress. Savannah and Maxwell sat giggling while Olivia rolled her eyes. “Really, Riley...you can’t be serious? You’re competitive nature is occasionally admirable but this is bordering on ridiculous,” Olivia sneered.

“What?” Riley said sheepishly. “People can’t help saying baby to the pregnant lady, that’s not my fault!”

“I somehow doubt it was as simple as that.”

“Well, I may have practiced saying nothing but Bean or infant for the last week but still...I won these pins fair and square.”

After everyone had a chance to fill out their bingo boards with baby items, Hana began calling out items at random. It only took seven items before Riley was on her feet, holding her belly while she jumped up and down yelling ‘bingo’. The groans that had been contained to her friends earlier now rippled through the other guests. Olivia forcefully grabbed the bingo board as Hana made her way to the table.

“Riley...I um...I think maybe you should give someone else a chance to win the game prizes,” Hana whispered hesitantly.

“But...”

“Blossom, Hana’s right,” Max said gently.

“For once, I agree with these fools,” Olivia interjected, still clutching Riley’s game board.

Riley pouted as Drake put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “You and Bean get to leave with all the presents, let the guests have the prizes, Nevin.”

“Ok, fine,” she conceded.

Hana turned back to the crowd. “Duchess Riley has graciously forfeited her win so we’ll continue with this round.”

Two items later, Liam stood and called out Bingo.

“You’re welcome,” Riley whispered as Hana handed Liam one of the bottles of whiskey Drake had selected as ‘manly’ prizes.  Liam smiled at her affectionately and laughed.

Two rounds later, Kiara and Emmeline had each won a prize and Hana announced it was time for presents.

Riley sat on a throne decorated with vines and flowers with gifts piled all around her. She took care to read each card and announce the gift giver and show her appreciation. There was everything from the simple: blankets, layettes, and plush toys; to the extravagant: tiaras, crowns, scepters, and crystal rattles. It felt endless and overwhelming in the best way possible. Riley was sure she had opened something from everyone in attendance but there was still a large pile unopened.

“These are from your family,” Hana explained. “Since they’re visiting when the baby arrives, they couldn’t make it today but they sent these over.”

Riley resisted the urge to steal one of Hana’s pins as she smiled gratefully at her. Her heart swelled with each gift she opened; her family knew her so well. There was a baby book that matched her woodland theme that had pages already filled in for her side of the family tree, complete with photos and memories about her mom, whom Bean would only know through stories. Riley felt the tears pricking at her eyes and they finally broke free when she opened a blanket that her dad had custom made out of some of her mom’s clothes. He took care to chose the softest sweaters in colors that would compliment the nursery. It was the closest Bean would come to feeling the embrace of their grandmother and it took everything in Riley not to ugly cry.

After a minute to compose herself, she moved on to the next gift. It was from Drew. The card said that he wanted to get something just for her because he knew that Bean would be getting more than enough. When Riley opened the box she began to giggle through her tears; it was just the humor that she needed.

“What is it?” Drake asked.

“I’m not sure I should show it to everyone,” Riley laughed. “There doesn’t need to be a picture of this in Trend.” 

“Just show us then, Blossom.”

Riley’s friends moved behind her and she lifted out a t-shirt with the front facing away from the guests. It was red with short sleeves and in bold white print it read ‘I’m a drop the F-bomb kind of Mom’.

There was laughter among her friends as Liam said, “Well your brother certainly seems to know you well.”

“Is that really the kind of thing you should be advertising?” Hana gasped.

“I see no problem with it,” Olivia stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s definitely funny, but Nevin’s gonna be watching her language once Bean arrives.”

Riley dropped the shirt and turned to Drake with her mouth agape. “Do you know me at all?” she exclaimed.

“Come on, Nevin. You don’t want him or her copying you.”

“Bean will just have to learn what I did growing up...do as I say, not as I do; no copying Mommy.”

“I hope its that easy, Nevin.”

“It will be,” she assured him as she pulled him down for a kiss.

With the last of the presents opened, guests were invited to enjoy the dessert table and the party began to wind down. Gladys and a few members of the staff started taking the presents in to the nursery and Riley made a beeline for the cookies she had been eyeing.

As the sun started to get low in the sky, they said their goodbyes and made their way into the estate.

“Why don’t you go up and get comfortable...I’ll make us some popcorn and we’ll watch a movie,” Drake suggested.

“Sounds perfect.”

When Drake finally got upstairs, he found Riley standing in the doorway of the nursery, clutching the blanket from her dad to her chest. “You okay, Nevin?”

Riley nodded and wiped away a stray tear. “I just can’t wait to hold our baby, Drake, and...and I hope I’m a good mom.”

“You’re gonna be a great mom, Nevin. An amazing fucking mom.”

Riley turned to him with a big smile on her face. “Ssshhhh, language Daddy.”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“I am,” she shrugged. “But you love it.”

“Damn right, I do,” he said as he pulled her into a passionate kiss and guided her to their room.

Exhaustion took over and Riley was a sleep in minutes. Drake ate the popcorn and watched Riley’s chest gently rise and fall as he rubbed her belly. “Hurry up and get here Bean, we can’t wait to meet you.”

The once grumpy commoner felt the last of his walls break down when his loving words were rewarded with a kick. Everything he never knew he wanted was right there in his arms...a family of his own to love and protect; all because he walked into her bar.

[sugarbutterbroadway]

Paint the sky in shades of red and fairytale white

A/n this fic was requested by @violetwolfraven and honestly turned out to be way longer than expected, I still hope you all enjoy and please leave some feedback if you did :)

This was a day to remember. They were all freshly eighteen—well, almost all. Race wouldn’t be turning eighteen until the beginning of November but that couldn’t,wouldn’t and didn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted, much to the chagrin of Spot. And Jack’s starry eyed eighteen had worn off a while ago, he was due to be nineteen in a month give or take. So it was more the feeling of being eighteen that stayed. Davey’s parents were finally laying off a bit and Medda was a bit more lenient with the curfews and the overnight trips. That led to sleepovers at the Jacobs and random drives into the city, this summer was honestly one to remember. They had their senior trip,their senior prom and they were all proud graduates with college on the brain.

But it was coming to a close. It was the final days of summer, mid August. The scorching sun had gradually shifted for cloudy, mild days and rain. That made Davey especially happy, he loved cloudy days. He loved finally being able to sit outside and enjoy it, he always got a bit cranky because of the heat. And Jack, well he was so head over heels that he loved everything that Davey loved simply because he loved it so passionately. He loved the way Davey sat in the grass,draped in one of his sweaters, looking around at the world like it was finally a place where he belonged. He loved the gentle look his eyes took on that was only reserved for Les and baby animals. He loved seeing Davey smile and well, look his age. Not the class president,not the head of every damn club that didn’t involve a sport—even though he kicked ass at soccer—not as the step in parent who took over when his folks were so tired they were dead on their feet.

 No, none of that. He didn’t like seeing David, he liked seeing Davey. Davey whose body was equal parts coffee and water,who mumbled equations in his sleep,who always seemed to kiss a little too rough when he got excited—hell, the Davey whose first instinct was to kiss him when he got excited! The Davey who showed up at his house this morning soaked to the bone asking if he wanted to have a picnic. And Jack laughed, he laughed because who does that? It was pouring non-stop but when Davey got that look in his eye, that little bit of crazy mixed determination, he got what he wanted.

And god did he get what he wanted, and a little more than he bargained for because Race was sitting in the living room and had overheard. Before Jack could say no, Race was already on his feet,stumbling into the hallway to pull on a pair of shoes. And fine, one extra person was fine, Race was usually well behaved. That was until Spot had come waltzing down the stairs,wearing Race’s dance hoodie with a cup of coffee in hand. Then Jack had a new problem, Spot had stayed the night? His mind was reeling, he narrowed his eyes at Race and tried his best to articulate that this is something they would definitely be talking about when they got home. Then he took a step outside,directly into the pouring rain and screamed. A bellowing scream that never seemed to stop and echoed off of the other houses in the neighborhood. Because what the hell? Race, his little brother,his built in best friend was having boys over? In his room? And oh god, was Charlie there—

“Babe”Davey said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. His mind fell still, in the most pathetic way possible, it grew stark still. The only thing he could focus on was that Davey was touching him,and Davey’s other hand was on his cheek, and his face was in Davey’s chest and when he breathed in he just smelled Davey. He smelled like the library he worked at and Dunkin Donuts coffee, the caramel swirl one he’d been raving about. And Davey’s hand was rubbing his back, and his lips were so close to his ear that Jack shuddered when he breathed.

“It’s okay”Davey said, “Race is a big boy now, you gotta let go”

But it was hard to let go, they both knew that. He couldn’t get over the conditioned thought that he was all that Race had, that Race depended on him. He couldn’t get the thoughts of sharing his bed in the orphanage because nightmares used to rack his small helpless body, God Race used to be so small. It was the same with Charlie, and he was a hypocrite. He wants Davey to slow down and take a break, but he couldn’t do the same for himself. He hadn’t realized his knees had gone weak until they were both lowered to the ground. It happened, they both knew it happened sometimes. Jack would get so angry and overwhelmed that his brain would just short circuit, and then in a flash he wouldn’t be able to hold himself up. Sometimes he’d fall, sometimes he’d faint.

But just because it was known, didn’t make it suck any less.

“You’re okay”Davey soothed, pulling him into his lap. “You’re not back at the refuge, it’s August 14th, the year is 2019 and we’re in upstate New York so we’re far far away from that place”

“Synder’s not gonna get Cru-Charlie?”he stammered.

“Snyder has been in jail since Medda adopted you three”Davey said, “No Snyder,no cops,no nothing. You and the boys are all safe here”

“We’re all safe here”He repeated.

“Yeah”Davey hummed, rubbing his arms. “We’re all safe here”

They sat outside huddled in Medda’s driveway until Jack’s brain came floating back to him and he laughed. It startled Davey a bit, but his lip pulled up in a grin.

“What’s so funny?”Davey asked.

“It’s just-”He cut himself off with a snicker, “ ‘m a real train wreck, Davey. We’re both sittin’ out here in Medda’s driveway, ‘m cryin, tell me this isn’t straight out of a teen drama”

“I-”Davey went to protest, but cut himself short.

“Exactly”He snorted, “It’s just funny because it’s so cinematic!”he continued, “The rain hittin the driveway,a handsome boy comforting me, it’s perfect”

“Jack…”Davey said wearily.

“And the script”He said, putting a hand to his chest. “Absolutely genius”

“I-I’m just doing what your therapist said will help”Davey stammered. And Jack’s eyes went starry again because how could anyone get any more perfect. The fact that Davey was even open to going with Jack made his heart beat faster.

“I know”He said, “And you did everything right, baby. Brought me right back to earth. It’s just...you know me and my humor, it makes me feel better. I just found this funny because of how fairytale it seemed…” And Davey, always the one to surprise brought one of Jack’s hands to his lips and kissed it gently. “You deserve fairytale, Jack” another kiss, “I’ll try to be the best prince I can for you”

“You already are the best,”He said.

“Then I'll be the greatest,”Davey said, those hazel eyes filled to the brim with determination and something else.

“Yeah?”He said.

“Yeah”Davey said, pecking his cheek. “Which is why once we get into some dry clothes, we’re gonna have a picnic”

“I ain’t never had a picnic”He said.

“Well there’s a first time for everything”Davey said.

“Yeah”He said, but his smirk was lethal. “That’s exactly what you said the first time you-”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of me walking inside”

-

A million innuendos later the two finally made it inside. The sound of the door opening once again must have summoned Race because he came sprinting from the kitchen, apron around his waist.

“Jack I-oh”He said, blue eyes wide. “Is this a bad time?”

Davey seemed to be the only one who could read a room because he placed a kiss on Jack’s cheek and mumbled, “I’ll be upstairs babe, you got this”

And thanks a lot Davey, because now Jack had to confront his problems. For the first minute or two him and Race just stared at each other, patiently waiting to see who would snap first. And as usual it was Jack. He sighed and motioned for them to sit on the couch. Once they were both seated, he spilled.

“You’re growing up”Jack blurted out, when Race tilted his head he elaborated. “You’re growing up and it freaked me out a bit, I’m sorry Racer”

“Why?”He asked, he looked uncomfortable, he felt uncomfortable. His knees were pulled up to his chest tucked safely underneath his chin.

“Because I still remember when you was so small”Jack said, a slight catch in his voice. “So small and just..you know. I gotta realize you ain’t that small anymore, that you can take care of yourself. That Ma, will always have your back…”

“Come hell or high water”he finished, he remembered the first time Medda told them that. It always brought a smile to his face. God did he love Medda. 

There was a beat of silence.

“Did you…?”He asked.

“Yeah”Jack nodded, “Yeah, I freaked a bit, but it’s not your fault. You’re allowed to grow up, Race. I mean you’re almost eighteen! I can’t keep you on a tight leash your whole life because...because ‘m havin a hard time letting go, it ain’t right”

“So you’re not mad?”He said quietly. “About Spot stayin the night?”

“We still gotta talk about that”Jack said, giving him a look. “But I ain’t mad, just...try not to do shit with Charlie in the house!”

Race’s face went white. “Oh god, Charlie…”

“Yeah, oh god Charlie!”They heard shouted. They looked up the stairs to see Charlie standing over the banister with a grim look on his face. “Keep your antics to yourself, I’m tired!”

“It’s almost noon, Charlie!”Jack called back, “You know Ma don’t like you sleepin in!”

“What mama doesn’t know won’t hurt her!” with that there was a slamming of the door. Jack and Race both looked at each other and sighed. Though it made their hearts a little warm that he still called her Mama.

“This family is dysfunctional”Jack mumbled.

“Tell me about it”

-

“Where is this magical picnic taking place, Davey mine?”Jack asked, lazily slinging an arm over his boyfriend's shoulder. “We’re walking, you ain’t got no picnic basket and it’s raining”

“For once I agree with Jack”Spot grumbled, he was wearing one of Race’s rain coats but his shoes were soaked.

“Yeah, why didn’t we just take the car?”Race complained, “Both of you idiots can drive!”

“Because”Davey huffed, “It’s closer than you all think, and I don’t know about you but I actually care about the environment”

“You better stop there”Jack teased, “Once you get him goin, he won’t stop”

“Because it’s important,”Davey said, ignoring the blush in his cheeks. “So keep quiet, or so help me God I will turn us all around and go home”

“Fine, mom”Race said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll stop bitching about the fact that my boyfriend is literally shaking-”

“Racetrack-”

“Cause he’s got an iron deficiency-”

“Racetrack-”

“And it’s freezing out here!”Race exclaimed.

There it was, that signature Racetrack temper that would send anyone else running. But Davey wasn’t anyone, his eyes remained neutral and he nodded.

“We’re almost there” is all he said before shifting his gaze forward and lengthening his strides. With little more than a raised brow from Jack, he thought he was in the clear. It was wishful thinking because the minute those two lovebirds inevitably flew off to their own world, Spot was pulling him back. He waited for Jack and Davey to walk ahead a few steps before falling back into a leisurely pace.

“You know I don’t like when you do that”Spot said, his voice was even, unreadable. It made his own stomach twist itself into a pretzel. Race winced and twisted the ring on his pinky, he didn’t know what to say. Spot was right, they have spoken about this before, on two different occasions. 

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t want you to lie to me,”Spot said.

“Anything,”He said, but his heart was already beating out of his chest.

“Have you been taking your medication?”

Race froze. Not literally as his feet were still moving, but his brain had drawn a blank. Of course Spot would notice a difference, Spot had been there since the beginning. He knew who Race used to be,how angry he got, and he knew what he was like now. His tense shoulders must have been answer enough because Spot sighed. It didn’t even seem intentional, but Race knew what sighs meant. 

It meant that Spot was disappointed. 

“I’m sorry”he said, he didn’t know what else to say. In a surprising gesture Spot took his hand in his and squeezed tightly. It might have been subtle to anyone else, but it meant the world to Race because Spot hated PDA, any form of it.

“It doesn’t mean i’m gonna leave you or that I don’t love you anymore”Spot said quietly, “We can talk about this later, but just know i’m in it for the long haul. Boyfriend or best friend, i’m yours”

Leave it up to Spot Conlon, a man of few words to be able to make Race melt in a sentence.

“I love you too, Spotty”he said, “Love you so much”

“I love you more,”Spot said easily.  Race simply shook his head and squeezed the hand that was shaking in his own.

“Impossible”he said, and he wanted to kiss him. He wanted to sweep Spot off his feet and kiss him right there in the rain, make the whole day a cliche. But he was working on his boundaries, and he was making good progress. Instead he opted to squeeze Spots hand on and off as they continued walking.

“Is it just me or does Davey have an extremely punchable face”he blurted out.

“Racer-”

“I promise I'm not gonna do anything!”He said quickly, “Honest, I like Davey, you know this! He just..he just really looks punchable.”

“You’re...you’re so violent, oh my god!”Spot laughed, it was sudden and loud. Jack and Davey’s heads whipped back and Race was very confused.

“I know I am”He said slowly, “How is this news to anyone?”

“It’s not”Spot continued, “it’s just-god, you say some of the most random shit. I ain’t got a clue what goes on in your brain, but it’s a fucking gold mine!”

“Wait, I wanna laugh too!”Jack whined, “What’s so funny?”

Spot and Race shot each other a look and smirked, “You had to be there”

-

The group walked for what appeared to be forever but Davey was enjoying every second of it. Sure his parents had laid off a bit now that he was out of high school but they still had expectations, and one of those expectations was to bring Les with him wherever he went. He didn’t have any problems with Les, he was a sweet kid. But he didn’t necessarily want his little brother trailing along when he was trying to be sweet on Jack. And he usually felt guilty. If Les wasn’t with him then he was with Sarah and Katherine, he didn’t want to pin that on them either. But Les was getting older too, which meant the Jacobs finally caved and let him go to summer camp. All summer long, June to August. That’s what dreams were made of. Davey looked into the distance and saw that the little canopy he set up an hour prior was still there. He leaned forward and squinted, making sure the people who were supposed to be watching it were still there too. Race was the first to catch on.

“Is that where we’re going?”He asked.

“It is”Davey grinned. The last thing he was expecting was Race to take off like a shot in the direction of the canopy,hood of his raincoat falling off his head and soaking his curls. He shook his head at the blonde but he was pleased. If it was Racetrack approved, then it would work for everyone. Spot shot him a withering look and without a word started jogging after his boyfriend, barely keeping up. Davey wanted to laugh, he wasn’t called Racetrack for nothing.

“You did this for me, baby?”Jack asked, his eyes soft.

“All for you,”Davey all but melted. And he couldn’t help it! All his life he had been so factual,such a realist, his feet never once left the ground. Davey liked his facts, he didn’t like to wonder,didn’t like what he couldn’t see. So he was hard to befriend. He wasn’t accepted by many of the other kids because he didn’t see the point in playing pretend when they could play with the number blocks right in front of them. Didn’t see the point in coloring the sky red when it was supposed to be blue. That was until a little boy with two front teeth missing and big green eyes came up to him and asked if he wanted to play. Davey had said no, multiple times, but this boy was persistent, said they could play whatever Davey wanted. And that’s how Davey taught Jack how to do multiplication in first grade. Jack had been one of the few to burst his way into Davey’s life. He was the one to show him that the sky could be red sometimes if he used his imagination, that they could be pirates in space even though they didn’t leave the sandbox. But most of all, he didn’t try to change him, and didn’t ask for anything in return but a friend. So how could Davey not melt?

“You’re lookin at me funny”Jack said, with a nervous chuckle. “And we’re here, I mean we’re all just waitin for you to-”

“I love you”Davey blurted out. His heart fell to his ass the minute he said it, but it felt right. Jack’s jaw dropped. No, it didn’t just drop. It unhinged itself completely from his face and flew away. He was gaping.

“I-I’m sorry?”Jack coughed, pounding his chest. “Can you repeat that? Cause it sounded like you said-”

“I love you, Jack Kelly”Davey said firmly. “I love you and I’m in love with you and...and thank you for showing me that the sky can be red”

“I-what are you talkin about Davey?”Jack stammered. Davey grabbed his hand and pulled gently so they could sit down. He was vaguely aware that they had an audience, but they didn’t matter, because all he could see was Jack.

“When we met in the first grade, you were the only one who tried to be my friend”Davey started, “And I pretty much hated you for it, cause I thought you were going to leave. But you were so patient with my know-it-all annoying self and let me teach you multiplication and read those little chapter books because it was what I liked to do, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,”Jack said, his lips pulled up in a smile. “Junie B. Jones, right?”

“Right”Davey grinned, “You let me sit there and show off all day everyday, but you also taught me how to be creative. I remember getting so mad at you because you were coloring the sky red, and I was ranting about how the sky should be blue because that’s what it looked like and you-”He stifled a laugh “You just looked at me and said ‘who cares? It’s just a color’”

“Very on brand”Race muttered. 

Davey ignored him and squeezed Jack’s hand. “No one had ever said anything like that to me before at that point. Every adult just agreed with me and praised me for being ‘so smart’, but you took me down a peg and challenged my thinking. I went home that day thinking about how it was just a color-”

“Wait”Jack said, his eyes wide. “I fucking remember that now! I also remember you colored the sky green in school the next day and-”

“-And I was so excited to show you, and you said-”

“-I said it looks pretty Davey, and I liked it because it was green-”

“-like your eyes”Davey finished, the two were practically nose to nose. “This has been a long time comin, Kelly. I love you because you’re my best friend, and i’m in love with you because you make me want to be better everyday”

“I love you”Jack whispered, bringing a hand up to cup Davey’s cheek. “I love you, Davey. I...this is hard for me, really fucking hard. Kids like me don’t get fairytale”

“No, they don’t”Davey chuckled, blinking away a tear. “But they deserve it, and you deserve it”

“You really are my prince”Jack grinned, “My prince Davey”

Davey brought his own hand up and tapped Jack’s ring finger. “And one day i’ll make you a Prince too. I’m in this for as long as you want me”

“What if I want you forever?”

“Then i’ll stay forever”

“Can you please, kiss already!’Katherine exclaimed, breaking through the veil of privacy. “I mean honestly, we’re all waiting for it!”

Davey laughed and pulled Jack closer, but he dodged the kiss. The green eyed boy turned to face the group and wiped his own tears. “We don’t do that kind of stuff on command or for free!”

Davey shook his head and instead pulled Jack into his lap, he needed to keep his boy close.

As Katherine and Sarah gushed over the speech, Spot and Race sat on their own corner of the picnic blanket grinning like fools.

“How do I feel like a proud parent and he’s not my kid?”Race sniffled, wiping his face with his shirt.

“I don’ know,”Spot said, rubbing his eyes. “It’s them creative writing courses, makin Davey a fuckin poet”

“God, why aren’t we romantic like them?”Race said.

“Because we wouldn’t know how to act”Spot snorted. “I called you babe once and you laughed at me for two hours”

“Because it was funny!”Race defended. 

“We were in front of my friends!”

“It’s not my fault you said it!”

“They clowned me about it for weeks!”

“Well maybe we’re just not built for PDA mushy stuff”Race said, crinkling up his nose. “But I still love you, Spotty”

“I love you more, ‘Track”Spot said. “One day i’ll get some balls and do somethin about it”

“Oh Spotty, you’re askin me to marry y-” his cry of joy was cut off by a hand being clamped over his mouth.

“This, this is why we don’t do romance”

-

Once the excitement died down, Katherine and Sarah had just decided to stay. There was more than enough food to go around, and they both couldn’t stop trying to one up each other with who had more embarrassing memories of the boys. So yes, this was a day to remember. With college-and now love on the brain, it was something that couldn’t be forgotten. Both brothers sat side by side trying to figure out how they had gone from angst ridden lost causes, to romantics with bright and shiny futures just waiting for them. The very nature of it was fairytale, two boys who seemed to have all the odds against them ending up with the partners of their dreams.

So yes, it was fairytale. But everyone deserves a little bit of fairytale, especially the ones who least expect it.

[anonwriter27]

Trust in Me Ch7

She could hear the waves crashing upon the stones below their house, the fresh smell of sea air touched her nose. Y/N was a little girl sat in her bed. The lights were dimmed, and the room was warm, Y/N looked around at her soft toys: one a grey wolf from her uncle Tony, one a raven from her father’s younger brother, Regin. They sat at the bottom of her bed, guarding her as she slept. Y/N felt the warmth of her mother as they sat together on the little girl’s bed.

 “…and so the young maiden said goodnight to her ghosts, and danced back to her chambers to await another day.” Lia said, concluding the bedtime story.

 “Goodnight sweet girl.” Lia got up and went to switch out the light.

 “But mama…” Y/N spoke.

 Lia sighed but gave a knowing smirk, “Y/N you promised one more story and you’d go to sleep.”

 “But I have questions.” Y/N said timidly.

 Lia perched onto the end of her daughter’s bed, “Don’t you always. I will answer one, and then you must go to sleep.”

 Y/N pulled down her duvet so she could sit up and talk, “Why is the young woman not afraid of the ghosts?”

 Lia smiled, “There is nothing frightening about ghost’s sweet girl, they were people just like you and me. They have histories, families, homes, they should be allowed to visit every once in a while.”

 Y/N smiled, “It’s nice that they visit.”

 All of a sudden, the room went dark and Y/N was no longer a little girl, “I miss you.”

 Lia smiled sadly at her daughter, as she opened her mouth to speak, Y/N woke up.

 Y/N opened her eyes slowly, a single tear escaping when she realised it was only a memory. She didn’t move for a while, she tried to fix her eyes shut again in hopes she could return to her dream, but the tears stung too much to keep them closed for long.

 Y/N didn’t have nightmares, not really. Occasionally she would remember the bloodshed on the steps leading up to her home, or the gaping wound in her father’s side as they laid him to rest on the bed; but they were not the memories that haunted her. No, her dreams always consisted of warm and loving memories, and in a way they hurt more. She would spend mere minutes reliving moments of bliss, then awaken to a world she feared. She was not ungrateful by any means, she loved her uncle and all he had done for her; she just found it hard sometimes, to acknowledge that she will never go back to the life she once lived.

 Y/N looked to her nightstand where her clock read 3:12am. She looked around her room, spotting her grey wolf, and fluffy raven sat on the bookshelf across the room, still watching over her after all these years. She removed herself from the warmth of her blankets, snuck her feet into her fuzzy slippers and made her way quietly out of her room.

 She made one cup of tea and one cup of coffee on her way to the lab on the first floor. She followed the sound of drilling and metal clanging, knowing it would lead her to her chosen destination.

 And there she found him, Uncle Tony. He removed his safety goggles and gloves taking the coffee she handed him.

 “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, she shook her head in response.

 “Me neither. Pepper thinks it’s my excessive caffeine intake.” He said, imitating Pepper’s voice.

 “Not the nightmares?” Y/N inquired shyly.

 Tony looked up at her with a tired smile, “Always the nightmares.” He admitted.

 Y/N nodded, “Need some help?”

 Tony chuckled, “Sure, you can do the paperwork, you know I hate that part.”

 They worked together, making idle conversation as they did so.

 “So…Vision tells me Loki is settling in.” Tony said, he had been itching to bring up the topic of Loki but didn’t want to overwhelm her.

 “He seems to be.” Y/N replied, not lifting her gaze from the charts in her hands.

 Tony nodded, “Good…good…and you’re getting along with him…?”

 Y/N decided to cut to the chase, “Subtlety is not your strong suit uncle, what is it you would like to say?” she said with a grin.

 “Don’t look at me like that, I just want to make sure you’re being careful. He has a track record; we can’t just trust the guy because Thor’s given him a thumbs up. For all we know he could be pretending to be calm and collected, and when we least expect it, he’ll…” Tony was working himself up to a rant.

 Y/N placed her hand over his, “Uncle Tony, please don’t worry. I’m okay.”

 Tony seemed soothed and decided to say no more in the subject. They kept working till dawn; when the sun came up Tony looked over to his niece. She had fallen asleep on a stack of papers, pen held loosely in her hand. He draped his fleece over her and let her sleep.

   The avengers assembled for their monthly meeting in the conference room on the second floor. Sam was teasing Bucky about not understanding the order sizes at Starbucks.

 “Surely just asking for a large will do!” Bucky said, clearly irritated.

 “Man, large can range from a grande to a venti, you’ve got to be specific.” Sam teased.

 Bucky rolled his eyes.

 Nat and Steve listened to Bruce explain a new theory, Steve nodded to mask his confusion on the subject.

 Meanwhile, Clint moved over to Wanda and Vision’s side of the room when he saw Thor and Loki enter.

 Last to arrive were the Stark clan, Pepper by Tony’s side and Y/N and Peter behind them.

 Loki was surprised to see Y/N at the meeting. Since their library trip a couple days prior, he hadn’t seen much of her. He assumed his brother had something to do with it, perhaps she worried Loki regarded her in the same way now.

 “Shall we begin the meeting?” Steve spoke up, gathering the attention of the room.

 “Not so fast capsicle.” Tony interrupted, earning an eye roll from the captain. “I want everyone to drop what they’re doing tonight, we have plans.”

 Half the room sighed while the other groaned.

 “Tony, I don’t want to go to another party, I still have a headache from the last one.” Clint complained, rubbing his forehead.

 “And if memory serves me right, last time you fell onto the piano in all your Iron Man glory, causing it to fall through the floor.” Nat pointed out, “You sure you’re ready for that again?”

 “It’s not a party, so kindly pause your whining. It’s a movie night.” Tony explained, “Pizza and Netflix, who’s in?”

 Everyone agreed, due to a mixture of wanting a cosy night in and relief they wouldn’t have to smell tequila around the tower for the next week.

 Loki sat quietly, observing the band of heroes; they were in the midst of discussing which movie to watch, Peter voting for Harry Potter, Sam rooting for Die Hard.

 Loki scanned all their faces, noting the happy and tranquil moment they were sharing; that is, until his eyes landed on Y/N. She didn’t look upset or distressed, she just seemed very focused. Loki could practically feel her overthinking from across the table.

 He then noticed Pepper smile down at the young woman and hold her hand under the table. The action seemed to bring Y/N out of the thought she was currently having; she took a deep breath and began to listen to the debate going on.

 Despite Loki noticing her discomfort, no one else in the room had picked up on it. The second Pepper had noticed, Y/N shook herself out of her reverie. This was another piece in the puzzle, she didn’t want others to worry for her. ‘Is that why she didn’t leave the tower?’ Loki wondered.

 The team finally agreed on a movie and went their separate ways. Loki would have to let her know he did not agree with his brother.

    Y/N sat in her room reading Wuthering Heights for seemingly the hundredth time, but her mind kept drifting to Loki. She was sure Thor must have told him by now, what would he think of her?

 Y/N recalled the day Thor had worked out who her family was. His carefree posture and charming smile altered quickly, his lips forming a thin line and his posture stiffening. He was never outwardly rude to her, nor did he ignore her when she entered the room; but he certainly didn’t welcome her or encourage the idea of friendship between them. It was something that had irked Tony.

 She hated the idea that Loki may look at her the same way. She liked being around Loki, she felt calm with him and that was rare for her.

 The alarm on her phone distracted her from her thoughts. 7pm it flashed, movie time.

 Y/N got up and threw on a hoodie, slipping on a pair of fuzzy socks and made her way out of her room.

 She walked to the elevator which took her to the top floor of the tower where the cinema room was. The avenger’s cinema was huge and rivalled any Imax in the city; it took up the entire floor and had a popcorn station on standby, safe to say it was Peter’s favourite room.

 The elevator doors pinged, and Y/N walked down the long corridor leading to the big screen. She stood to the side of the hallway, safely hidden in a little nook just off the right side of the doorway. She could see almost everyone handing out pizza boxes and laughing at something Wanda had said.

 It was time for Y/N to do her little ritual.

 Although she was reasonably comfortable with each avenger by now, big gatherings still intimidated her. She believed it had something to do with not knowing what each person was doing at any given time. Tony said she got that from her father.

 So, before big gatherings like this, she would count and with each number she would name an avenger she could talk to if uncomfortable. There wasn’t an exact science to it, but it seemed to help.

 “One, Tony.” She whispered, “Two, Pepper. Three, Peter. Four, Vision. Five, Bucky. Six…”

 “Ranking your favourites?” She heard from behind her.

 She jumped with a strangled yelp and turned.

 “Loki, you startled me.” She said, catching her breath.

 Loki smiled, “My apologies. Why are you hiding…and counting?” he asked.

 Y/N blushed furiously, “It just helps…organising things…helps….” She muttered.

 Loki nodded in understanding, “With the crowds?”

 She nodded.

 “Perhaps I should give it a try.” Loki said, earning a shy smile from Y/N.

 They stood there a little while in silence, “You’re not going in?” Y/N asked, though her eyes still didn’t meet his.

 “I haven’t seen much of you these past few days.” Loki said, ignoring her question. “Have you been avoiding me?”

 “No!” Y/N said a little too quickly, causing Loki to smile at her honesty. “I just thought you might be busy with your brother; I didn’t think you’d want me to bother you…”

 “Because you’re a Tatum.” Loki said matter of factly.

 Y/N paused, she looked up at him, scanning his face for any obvious signs of anger or annoyance. Surprisingly she found no judgement in his features.

 She bowed her head, “I’m sorry.”

 Loki grew sympathetic and grew angrier at his brother. “You needn’t apologise for being born.” He spoke with a chuckle.

 Y/N was surprised by his reaction, “I thought you would have shared Thor’s opinion…”

 Loki shook his head, “If we all based our opinions on what other’s think, we wouldn’t get very far, would we my dear?”

 Y/N didn’t really know what to think of his relaxed manner and lack of judgement, but she was certainly grateful for it.

 She gave Loki that winning smile, the one he always felt honoured for having earnt.

 “Now for the matter at hand. Shall we join the others for ‘movie night’?” Loki asked, causing Y/N to giggle at the way he said movie night.

 She nodded, “Okay, would you like to sit with me and Peter? His reactions to the movie are usually more entertaining than the actual movie.”

 Loki chuckled, “How could I say no to that.”

 They walked in together and made their way over to Peter who had already saved them two seats beside him.

 To everyone’s surprise Thor walked over to the little group with a large bag of popcorn at hand and sat in the seat to Loki’s left.

 Thor turned to his brother and Y/N and cleared his throat, gathering their attention. “Would you like some popcorn Y/N?” He asked, a little meekly, or as meekly as a God can.

 Y/N was shocked at first but didn’t want to waste the opportunity to make good with the God of thunder.

 She nodded, “Thank you.” She said sweetly, taking a few pieces of popcorn in her hand.

 The lights slowly dimmed till the room was dark and the movie began to play on the big screen. It would appear Peter had won the debate as the famous Warner Brothers logo appeared before them.

 Thor didn’t have to look at his brother to know he was grinning. “Stop it.” He whispered to Loki.

 Loki chuckled quietly, “Well done…brother.” Loki whispered back.

 Thor smiled.

[apexart-journal]

Ann Quintano in NYC, Day 12

eJust ended today’s events but before I write on that wanted to share some pictures from yesterday at Governor’s Island. (Sorry for always the one day delay for photos but I have some ongoing camera to computer problems and thank heavens Abbie at apexart enables me to have my photos up at all! And thanks to my sister, Francesca and my brother in law Ron who gave me my phone and tablet or where would I be in this day and age!

This is just a small area of Earth Matters where we did intros and information but,as I mentioned, stashed bag with phone/camera there so don’t have other pics of their wonderful urban farm and compost center.

All over Governors island one can easily spot these colorful chairs (or the red hammocks) and in this one I did the soul searching for my reflection on my experience of being a fellow with apexart.

So that brightens the day! It overlooks the water. Next is an old rundown building on the island which, if you look hard, you can see was a library.

Onto the ferry and while waiting for it to leave enjoyed a sea gull relaxing and then the view from the ferry.

Onto today...I had a two hour Improv Comedy Class with Jessica Zambrotta. That was a lot of fun and revealing. Just five of us so that was a comfortable size. We did a number of ‘games’ that helped with being really present, not judging, connecting with each other, listening skills, being able to get out of our head and into connection and emotion. It was interesting how we could each build on each other’s stories in the game and how using certain responses helped or hindered the flow. The classes are for everyone, not just actors or comedians and develop skills that are useable  in everyday life.

I then went to the next two stops in continuation of Fighting the Dark which began in Manhattan and end here in Brooklyn. Grand Army Plaza where the sculpture includes a Black man. Grand Army Plaza was erected to celebrate the Union victory of the civil War and the tour speaks about the all Black 20th Regiment. It continues with the effect on the drafting of Black soldiers who were originally not allowed to serve, and the terrible resistance to that by many whites.  Many Blacks sought refuge in Weeksville named for Black landowner  and established as a free Black community in what is now Crown Heights.

The creator of this Audio Tour puts things for us New Yorkers in a frightening reality:...”many of these lynching took place in the south but the blueprint for multiple day mass lynchings of free Black people was formed in the streets of New York in 1863″. The Weeksville Heritage Center is closed to tours because of Covid but you can visit the grounds and the itinerary suggested sitting on the lawn and reading a book. But to me it felt like sacred ground and not a place to be relaxing and so after I read the transcript of the audio tour (I had 8 pages of transcript with me today), I moved on. I took the C train to West 4th just to explore the West Village a little. No many how many times I’m down there I always get turned around by the zig zagging streets. I cut through Washington Square part to walk home (apex home) and it was absolutely mobbed. I think it was NYU graduation.

Once again during the day I had to deal with my reoccurring fear of getting lost without a map (what a metaphor too I guess!) I lived through the era of the Crown Heights riots so on the bus to Crown Heights...and the driver telling me its the next to last stop...and we’re going and going...I was remembering my first day at Pratt in the 70′s when the city was high crime and that was way before Pratt area was gentrified. I asked a police officer the direction and he said to me “I can tell you how to get there but you’ll never get there alive!” He and his partner found it somewhat amusing, of course I was scared to death. I need to know where I’m going and have a visual: a map, even if its hand drawn by me. So for me apex gets it right on about moving one out of their comfort zone and anything familiar.  I must say a woman caught up to me when I got off the bus and said she heard me asking for directions to the train back and she proceeded to tell me exactly how to get to the C train. A young woman at the Brooklyn Navy Yards practically walked me to the ferry when I was leaving...’I have a Mama and a Grandma and I would want them to be safe too ‘ she said. Having to rely on (and hope for) the kindness of strangers is always a good learning and a happy occasion. As challenging (and fun) as this experience is...I hate for it to end. I want to keep the unfamiliar alive!

Bye for now...

[essays-for-breakfast]

One Vow

Melizabeth Week Day 6: Promise/Devotion

Promises. At this point, Meliodas had made and broken so many he had lost count. He had promised Hawk to pick out the empty bottles and store them somewhere other than the top of the counter. He had promised Ban another round of their ongoing arm-wrestling competition to give him the chance to make up for his last defeat. He had promised Merlin to keep that tiny creature with an appetite for scorched fingers in her lab alive while she visited some far off library. Of course, he had failed all of them, so broken pledges were part of the course with him.

Hawk had no reason to be surprised that Meliodas had, in fact, not practiced his cooking skills.

“You can’t tell me all of this is just lack of talent,” the loudmouthed swine yelled and pointed accusingly at the food in front of him with his hooves. Meliodas considered adding pig feet to the menu of his tavern. “You are nothing but a lazy pig, you could do better if you tried! Or you want to poison me with your terrible scraps.”

“That isn’t scraps,” Meliodas said and pulled the plate of baked carrots and potatoes out of Hawk’s reach.

“Which only proves my point. How are we supposed to attract customers when they die of disgust as soon as they eat a spoonful of that?”

“Well, we have a travelling tavern, so I only need to lure them with the smell of the food once. Never said I wanted long-lasting relationships with the drunk folk you call customers. Besides, I heard roasted bacon is really popular these days. Fits great with Aberdeen Ale.”

Hawk narrowed his eyes which only made the fat in his cheeks more alluring. A good slate of pig cheek – not even Meliodas’ lack of skills with a frying pan could ruin that image. “The ground on which this establishment stands belongs to me. You would have long starved if it weren’t for my generosity. And just so that we’re clear, Mama will eat you if you try anything funny.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

The floor stopped swaying as Mama Hawk halted at their destination on the hill outside the next town, only to tilt as she dug herself into the ground to create the illusion of a normal tavern that had been built from the ground up overnight. Meliodas grabbed Hawk by his ears to prevent him from skidding through the room like last time before he marched into the kitchen to prepare for the first customers.

The shoebox of a room in the back of the circular building showed all the signs of a tavern without any employees – apart from the fund manager who happened to be an excessively talkative pig. Sacks and caskets with ingrediencies stacked on every surface and most of the floor, and the mix of plates without one to match another towered on the workbench next to the sink. Maybe before his next stop, Meliodas would find the time to furnish a new cupboard.

He pried a fork from the basket in the corner and took a bite of the meal Hawk had assaulted with words. Awful. Even worse than how Hawk had described the taste. With a frustrated sigh on his lips, Meliodas showed the remains into Hawks bowl on the floor and frisbeed the plate onto the top of the stack of its mismatched brothers where it landed with an indignant clatter. Where was Ban, that criminal, when he needed him?

The first guest dribbled into the tavern, and Meliodas greeted them with a cheerful grin and a tray of ale mugs. From the looks of it, business would run well today, nothing to worry about. Some of the folks brave enough to order food accused him of poisoning – enough to make Hawk raise a smug eyebrow –, but another serving of ale appeased them.

Meliodas was about to mark this day as the best one in a while, when chatter about a rusty knight on the lookout for the Seven Deadly Sins caught his attention. Sure, whenever season was dry and people had nothing to gush about, the old stories about the Sins resurfaced with more ghastly details than the previous year, but no one had been idiotic enough to look for them until now. And as if the mention had summoned a ghost onto Meliodas porch, a knight clad in full armor stepped through the door and rattled, “The Seven Deadly Sins…”

Now that was interesting.

But Meliodas’ clientele viewed the situation a tad differently, screamed at the top of their lungs, and made a run for the door faster than the eye could see. In no time, Meliodas was left alone with the Rust Knight swaying back and forth like a drunkard. He sighed. Ghost apparitions were bad for business; he wouldn’t sell a single mug of ale in this town as soon as word spread about the supposed murder knight who searched for the even more murderous Seven Deadly Sins.

Well, now that the Rust Knight had found its way into his tavern, least Meliodas could do was find out why he was looking for him. “Who’re you?” he asked.

As an answer, the knight reeled back and crashed on the stone tiles with a rumble loud enough to alert every Holy Knight in the kingdom. The knight’s helmet rolled under a nearby table to reveal its owner’s identity…

…No, no, it couldn’t be, what were the odds? She had no reason to travel this far away from the capital, no reason to search for him. His eyes must be playing a trick on him, the girl was nothing but an illusion created by his desperate mind because he hadn’t seen her in so long. And yet, the face under the helmet belonged to her without a sliver of doubt. Elizabeth.

She had grown since last Meliodas had seen her, her soft features had abandoned some of the childlike roundness in favor of maturity. He knew every inch of her soft skin, had stroked these cheeks in love and death with fingers bleeding, cold, or full of life. He had dreamed of these fine eyebrows and the small, adorable nose day in and day out, no matter if he was with her or without her. He had kissed these lips more times than he could count, kisses of innocent love, of unending devotion, of tear-filled goodbyes. These silver strands Meliodas had brushed a million times charmed her face as she lay on his tavern floor still as death if it weren’t for the faint sound of her heart.

She was a mirror image of the original Elizabeth in every sense of the word. They had all been, all 105 incarnations between then and now had dawned these features Meliodas couldn’t help but fall in love with, over and over again, until the day the earth would stand still. But for reasons Meliodas failed to find words for, this version seemed closer to the one he had first met during the fires of the Holy War. She was her, and yet she was all of them at once.

And before Meliodas had taken a single step forward to check her heartbeat, he had already lost himself in his love for Elizabeth for the 107th time.

But he had to make sure, convince even the last fiber of his heart that wanted to doubt she had returned to him this soon. Meliodas removed the pieces of armor until the girl wore nothing but her skintight black undergarment. And the more of her curves he revealed, the more Meliodas had to force the muscles of his face into an emotionless mask, even though his seven hearts beat against his ribcage with adoration and longing; he couldn’t allow Hawk to see how much their guest threw him off balance.

She felt too light, malnourished and defeated, in his arms when Meliodas carried her to the second floor and placed her into the cushions of his bed. Hawk struggled to climb the steps with his short legs and warned Meliodas to keep his hands to himself while he worked hard to heave his bacon up the stairs. But for just one moment, Meliodas was alone with her in this room that had felt lonely until she had come along to fill the emptiness with her presence.

He took Elizabeth’s hand and pressed the limp fingers against his cheek while he fought down the tears. The last remains of doubt had long faded, and her scent of summer days long gone filled his mind with regret strong enough to drown him.

“I let you down so many times,” Meliodas whispered. “How often did I promise you I wouldn’t let you go through this again? I promised to break the curse when I had the hope it could be done. I promised to love you even though the thought of losing you always remained in the back of my mind. I promised to stay away because of how much I hurt you – but it seems I failed. Again.”

Elizabeth remained motionless under his touch. If she died right here and now, the curse would still have triumphed. Meliodas would have been in lost in love while she died in front of him. The same way their shared path always ended.

“I promised to continue to fight and free you from this curse even if you die. But look at the failure I am, Elizabeth.” The chuckle escaping his lips sounded more like a desperate sob. “I will make it up to you. A thousand times over with interest. As long as you stand beside me and lend me your strength. I won’t fail you this time.”

Meliodas’ promises might have little value left with how often he had broken them, but he swore he wouldn’t allow this Elizabeth to die. He would learn all about her quirks, the things she enjoyed in life and the nightmares that kept her up at night, no matter what it would take. If he had to take Zeldris’ power, if he had to face the Ten Commandments all at once, if he had to wear the shackles of the Demon King, he would do all this and more.

This time, Elizabeth would live.

This time, Meliodas would keep his promise.