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foxgloveprincess · 2 months

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My Heart is a Hollow Plain

Pairing: Pagan God Loki Laufeyson x Female Reader [First Person Narrator]

Summary: No one told you the price of living the life of which you’ve always dreamed.

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: UnBeta’d, Dark (Soft Dark), Medieval(ish) AU, Polytheistic/Pagan Beliefs, Gender Fluid Loki, Mythology, Dubious Consent (Non-Graphic Smut), Death, Yandere Vibes, Deals/Contract (oral), mentions of Servitude, Magic, Jealousy, Yearning, Possessiveness. Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Welcome back to the Avenger’s Pantheon. Here’s Loki’s story. If you’d like to check them out, there are stories for Tony (Drabble), Steve and Bucky, Dr. Strange, and the Maximoffs in this AU. Enjoy!

Title from “Breath of Life” by Florence + the Machine

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

Candles flicker and drip. A cool breeze winds its way through the stones of the temple to circle my body. Knees aching, I complete my daily prayers and stand. I bow once more before the statue of the Widow and leave.

The sun shines down on hills of gently dancing grasses. They brush along my fingers as I walk along the path leading to town. A cart passes with jugs of milk and wheels of cheese. I wave to the farmer and fall behind them.

The market bustles, the cacophony drifting through the open air. I pause at the outskirts, bracing my mettle. Skirts clutched in my fists, I walk on. The crowd swallows me. Passersby jostle my shoulders and tread on my feet. Another body ignored. Quite invisible to those around me.

My mother’s head sticks up above the rest, her hair piled atop her head and adding height to her figure. She laughs and chats with her customers, wrapping loaves of bread and sweets in a cloth for them. She always sneaks in something extra—a clever ploy to draw them back week after week to her stall. My father works behind her, hefting baskets of bread from our bakery to place for sale around her before disappearing inside again. Market days always bring us the most business.

My name breaks through the noise. My mother’s hand in the air to beckon me closer. I raise mine in return and squeeze my way behind our table. She thrusts an apron to me and I tie it quickly about my waist.

“You took too long with your prayers,” she chides. “Your sister’s had to go off to buy our cheese. Left me all alone.”

“Sorry, mother,” I reply, hands already working to count out coins for a customer. I look up to the handsome man and press a tentative smile.

He bids my mother thanks and turns, figure disappearing into the crowd. No regard sent my way. The smile falls from my lips.

“Come along, then,” my mother says through the side of her mouth. “The morning’s just begun.”

We sell out of bread and sweets just after the sun reaches its pinnacle in the sky. Temperance returns from her errands, picking up not only mother’s cheese but other necessities she knew we needed. Some candles, a few new jars, onions, carrots, and herbs.

Father leaves to check his traps in the woods, hoping for a rabbit or even a squirrel. Mother begins to cook with what we have already. Her first seat taken after putting a pot over the fire to simmer.

My sister leads me up to our rooms, above our bakery. Two straw mattresses laid on the floor, a thin wall separating us from our parents. My sister’s hand squeezes mine, a nervous tick.

“I have news,” she says in a whisper. Our mother’s ears like those of a hound. Nothing escapes her.

“What is it?” I ask in an equally quiet tone.

“The gods have finally answered my prayers,” she whispers, almost forgetting herself with her excitement.

I nod and prod her along with an inquisitive word or two. She leaves me waiting in suspense not one moment.

“Matthew has proclaimed his love.” Her face beams so happy, I think it might crack like a delicate pot. “He wishes to marry me.”

I blink, stunned by such incredible news. My thoughts flit to my own prayers, left unheard by the gods. Loneliness my constant companion despite my yearning, my pleas, my offerings.

Temperance clears her throat. I startle and blurt, “Congratulations, sister. I’m so happy for you.”

Her smile dulls and she picks a piece of straw from within her mattress. “It does not seem it.”

“Of course I am,” I enthuse. “Mother and father will be, too.” I grasp her hand still in mine.

“He says he will ask father for my hand any day now,” she says with a slight less fervor.

“How wonderful,” I reply with the sunniest smile on my lips despite the torrent of jealousy swirling within my belly. “Your life has surely been blessed.”

She looks into my eyes. My younger sister always able to read my heart despite all my efforts to conceal it. Her hand squeezes mine.

“The gods will bless you, too.”

My mother and father bake a grand cake for my sister and Matthew. Stacked at the top of the others, Temperance and her new husband barely manage to kiss over top it without all the cakes toppling.

Our town fills the field behind our home with tables of food. As grand a feast as can be made. Roasted ducks and rabbits and boars, a dozen loaves of bread, jams and preserves, cooked vegetables galore—more food than I’ve ever seen in my life. I try each and every dish, despite the tuts from my mother’s tongue. My father drinks merrily, congratulations raining down upon him.

The afternoon passes into the evening and mother bids me retire. I prepare for bed alone and sleep alone. The first time I have done so since my sister’s birth. My eyes meet the ceiling of our roof and I blink away tears. I don’t know why I’m crying, not exactly. Missing my sister, loneliness, jealousy. All three swirl through my head.

I close my eyes and try to force myself to sleep—to little avail. Thoughts too loud in my head. Even as I hush them and focus. The creaks of my parents returning and the soothing night sounds just outside our window a boon, lulling me into rest.

The day after Temperance’s wedding I awaken as early as I normally do. There are trenchers and loaves and buns to bake. But first, to pray and lay offerings.

I take one of our lanterns and strike a flame outside our shop. Early morning light still slumbering behind the horizon. The familiar dirt of the road plods beneath my feet. The temple just outside of town upon our tallest hill.

The steep climb challenges me in the low light. The trek back home always just a little easier. A cold breeze brushes past my shoulder. The flame flickers but does not falter. And neither do I.

Mother and father always come to say their prayers after a hard day’s work. Yet I can’t begin my day without it. The darkness and solitude of the temple at this hour, it fills my soul. With the gods watching over just me for a moment, I feel seen.

Under the oculus, the moon shines pale and dim. I keep my lantern lit by my side. Letting the faces of the gods remain shadowed.

My fingers draw a familiar circle about me and the offering of blue iris and violets I have brought before they clasp together and I begin my prayer. The health of my family, my sister’s happiness, and, more selfishly, mine.

“Why are you here at this hour?” a sonorous voice asks.

Standing by the feet of the Horned Trickster, god of chaos and mischief, they stand. I cannot see their face to discern the line of their eye, but the hairs upon my arms and the back of my neck prickle. I do not leave my place, but my body recoils all the same.

“Do you pray for the same things every day?” they ask, unbothered by my silence. “Health, happiness.” Their hand flicks through the air in a lazy swirl. “Tedium and droll.”

“I know not for what else I should pray,” I respond, spurred by their tempting tone. I gather my flowers in my lap, their stems breaking under my tight grip.

“There is so much more,” they reply with a scoff, “to this world, to your pathetic existence, you need only ask for it.”

My lips part in shock. The man steps out of the shadows into the candlelight, and finally I see his face. More handsome than any other man in the village. He leaves me speechless with the sharpness of his emerald eyes and the arch of his brow. Raven hair falls to his shoulders, resting upon the finest silks of his doublet.

“Tell me what you truly desire.” Standing mere inches from my knees resting on the stone floor, he tilts my chin with two of his lithe fingers.

Meeting his gaze proves too intense. My eyes lower to his throat while thoughts whirl in my head. All of the things I have ever wanted. A marriage to a man who will love me for all my days. The fortune of kings. Recognition. Beauty. Praise. Power.

A smirk pulls at the corner of his lip. “Oh yes,” he purrs. “I see it.” He crouches before me and rests his free hand on his knee. His fingers trace my chin to my cheeks, and back again. “What would you do to receive such bounty from the gods?”

“I—” The phrase poised on my tongue sticks in my mouth, like honey that seals my lips together.

He hums in question, impatient for an answer.

I swallow, a lump in my throat, and croak around it, “I would do anything?” Though it spills from my lips as a question, it rings with truth. Conviction stirring in my belly at the words. My eyes raise to meet his, scared of his judgement.

He smiles and traces his fingers over my lips. “That is exactly what I thought.” He releases my face, though not the thrall he has cast over me. Enchanted by his looks as I am, I follow the movement of his hand as it snakes along my arm and grasps mine.

He rises, bidding me to follow until we stand beneath the oculus. Hues of pinks and gold bathe over us, the sun rising without. I glance up, panicked by the passing time.

“I must go,” I gasp, tugging from his grip. Yet he does not unhand me.

He says not one word until I meet his eye. “I will provide all for you,” he says with a gentle squeeze of my hand. As though he were my lover making an eternal promise. My heart thunders in my ear. Light shines on his skin from above, a dazzling glow that washes him in divinity. “Commit only to me, and I will be your servant.”

My mouth dries. I stand, stunned, before him. “Are you a god?” I whisper, head bent toward him to share such an abounding confidence.

A smile curves his lips. “What is your answer?” he asks in turn, disregarding my own question.

I stare into his grass green eyes, luminous and intense. Heat fills my cheeks. The sun continues to rise. The temple sits quiet. He waits, his hand trapping mine.

“Where have you been?” my mother blusters, stacking loaves of bread behind our counter.

The door to our bakery closes behind me with a soft click. “I’m sorry, mother,” I say, rushing to grab my apron and tie it about my waist. “My prayers took longer than I expected.”

“What could you possibly pray for?”

The sting of mother’s words pierce my chest, but I do not say anything. “Every day, prayers and every day, late,” she mutters under her breath. “You awaken the gods too early.”

Her finger wags in my direction as she turns and places her hands on her hips. Ready as ever to drone about her displeasure. But once she looks at me—really looks—she falls silent. Her lips part and she blinks.

“What’s happened?” she asks, slowing into the motion of wiping her hands on her apron to rid them of flour. She steps closer and reaches to cup my cheek. “There’s something changed about you.” Though she whispers it like a secret, I hear her.

Passing by windows in the town on my walk home from the temple, I glimpsed my reflection. To my eye, I saw no difference. The same plain face, the same soft body, the same clothes. And yet, the way my mother looks at me anew—as if there were something noticeable, remarkable.

Blinking from her daze, she pats my cheek and turns away.

“There should be buns ready in the ovens,” she says with a loving lilt to her voice, “go and fetch them from your father.”

I nod, silent, and turn to the back where the oven burns hot and fills the room with its warmth and the smell of fresh bread. Memories of spending winters curled beside the fire and ovens with my sister tucked next to me fill my head. My hand rests on the stone of the surrounding wall and I glance around to find my father.

“Right there,” he grunts carrying a paddle of loaves over to cool. My father pays me little mind, but nods to the buns sitting off on a side table.

“Thank you,” I say, grabbing the tray and carrying it out to mother.

Mr. Fitz stands there with her, paying for a loaf of bread for his wife. He glances over at my entrance and smiles.

“Good morning,” he says with a nod in my direction.

I pause, stunned. So rare that customers take a moment to acknowledge me, let alone greet me. My mother whispers my name with a nudge to my side. It is enough to knock me from my frozen state and return the greeting. He doesn’t say more, collecting his loaf from my mother and his coins, before departing.

“You must be more friendly,” my mother says, “or all your good looks will be for naught.”

A smile threatens my lips. My mother’s favor of me extending only to the help I provide, never my countenance. That she reserved always for my sister—Temperance’s lovely smile and thoughtful spirit, true beauty shining out from within. A flutter of pride swells within me at her inadvertent praise. I agree with her quickly and return to work.

The morning passes in joyful company. Customers pleasant and plentiful. Each one sends a greeting and smile my way. They ask after my health and my temperament. They meet my eye and compliment my sunny disposition.

As the sun crests the top of the sky, Lord Grant Ward enters our bakery. A first for the local lord. His lordship usually more content to send out one of his many servants for such a menial errand.

His figure stands tall in our doorway. I catch a glimpse of him from just beside the door to the front, loading the few remaining loaves into a basket with my father’s help.

“I have heard such complimentary things about this bakery today,” he says, perusing our store with a skeptical eye. His toe scuffs across our floor.

“My lord,” my mother greets, “we are grateful for your visit to our humble bakery. How may we serve you?”

He looks down his nose at her and huffs a haughty breath. Not even a word of response. My eyes narrow, the heat of fury boiling through my veins. To dismiss my mother thus. I push the door open all the way and exit the back, sweat dotting my brow and basket under my arm. Ready to confront such discourtesy.

“My lord,” I bite with as much respect I can muster—which is not much. “May I serve you?”

A glance in my direction, and he pauses. The skeptical tilt of his brow evens to one of curiosity and understanding at once. He steps forward toward our counter.

“I believe you may,” he replies, tone honey sweet. “I wish to purchase all the goods you have remaining.”

“My lord,” my mother blusters, “you are too generous.”

He ignores her, eyes locked on my figure. His hand rustles at his belt, tugging away a pouch and handing it in our direction.

“Will this suffice?”

I bob in a curtsy and accept it. My mother hovers over my shoulder as I open the pursestrings and look inside. Coins glint up at me. My mother counts aloud but trails off.

“My lord,” she says with a voice full of awe and respect, “it is surely too much.”

“Then accept it as payment for the inconvenience of closing your shop early.” The lord waves his hand through the air. “Will that please you?” he asks in a lowered tone, directly to me.

“Yes, my lord,” I reply, ire cooled but not entirely appeased. “How shall we deliver your goods to you?”

He hums and steps closer, hand reaching to pluck at the fibers of my basket. “I shall send a cart with instructions. Will you meet them?”

“Yes, my lord,” I say and take a step back.

His brow quirks at my retreat, but he says nothing more. Merely nods in acceptance and bids us farewell.

“To see that look in his eye as soon as I drew his attention toward me,” I explain. My light flickers at my feet beside the godly figures. “How insufferable. To treat my mother with disrespect.”

Fingers trail along the nape of my neck. I know them to be there, yet they have not revealed themself from the shadows.

“Of course,” I continue in a more subdued tone, “he did send his cart. He collected every bit of our bread. Took what he wanted and gave the rest to the needy.” My own hand wipes the side of my face. “Perhaps I regard his character too quickly.”

“You were right to judge him as you did,” the voice soothes behind me. Different than before.

Turning over my shoulder, I seek the visage of the god with whom I struck my deal. A figure emerges, softer, curvier.

I bow my head in respect, sure I’ve been addressing a goddess in mistake. “Pardon my musings,” I rush, knees ready to collapse to the floor. “I misspoke.”

Lithe fingers lift my chin. My eyes meet the emerald green of my patron, set in feminine features still as striking as before.

“You make no mistake,” she says with a smile tilting her lips. “I am here, my sweeting.”

My mouth forms around words I cannot speak. Enthralled by her still, I contemplate the change in her countenance and find myself unable to avert my gaze.

“You should know the fleeting nature of my appearance,” she explains. “I take many forms. How like you this one?”

“You are breathtaking,” I reply in a whisper. Clearing my throat from such bold speech, I reach into my pocket and withdraw the buttery raston and small jar of my mother’s plum preserves wrapped in cloth I have brought in offering. “To thank you, and reaffirm my vow of devotion to you.”

She unwraps the parcel. Her smile widens. A wave of her hand and only the cloth remains. Its contents vanishing before my eyes. Cupping my cheeks in her hands, she presses a kiss to my forehead—a blessing. “Thank you, my darling. You will go to town and continue to enchant all who live there,” she instructs, thumb brushing the apple of my cheek, drinking in the soft breaths which pass my lips and the surety of my attention. Her gaze meets mine with a grim darkness. “But be wary of Lord Ward. He covets you for himself. And you…” she prompts.

“I serve you.”

My steps crunch through the underbrush of the forest. Unused to traversing such uneven ground, I walk slowly. Father’s back pains him. My mother stays in our bakery with the few loaves we made this morning. So I search through the woods for his traps, content for a moment away. Engaged with my own thoughts. My patron a shining beacon in the forethoughts of my mind.

“Who dares to trespass on my land?” a voice booms through the trees. “Reveal yourself.”

My heart jumps in my chest and takes up a thundering beat. My hand clutches at my chest, though I cannot soothe myself. Careful movements carry me toward the sound of the voice. Yet one false step and my ankle twists. I yelp. The cold earth greets me as I fall and sounds of a hurried strides reach my ears.

“Who’s there?” Closer now, Lord Ward’s voice carries clearer.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” I call back, knowing he approaches still. “I did not realize these were your lands.”

He stops before me, the leather of his shoes black as night. I dare not cast my gaze up to catch his ire. Instead, I keep my head bowed in deference and pray for help.

“You need not fall to the floor,” he says in an air of curiosity.

“Yes, my lord,” I say.

“Let me help you.” He offers a gloved hand. I eye it before meeting his gaze.

“Thank you,” I accept and lean on his strength to help me rise. My lips seal against a whimper of pain and I shift my weight to rest upon my uninjured foot.

“You are hurt,” he observes. Both of his hands offered to aid me.

“I will be well, my lord,” I assure with a pat to my hands on my skirt to dispel the dirt and leaves clinging to my palms. “It is nothing.”

He steps even closer still. My breath catches in my lungs. “Allow me to escort you home.” He speaks with such a gentle articulation, it sparks a flutter of my heart. If only he behaved thus upon our first meeting.

“I thank you, my lord,” I say, picking my words carefully. “Though I must continue to my father’s traps. I fear I only have turned myself around. Forgive me for trespassing.”

“You’re forgiven,” he says with a nod, “always.”

I swallow and find I can meet his eye no more. Heat fills my cheeks, as if I labored too long beside the oven. I pat them with trembling fingers and cannot understand my lack of ease.

“If you will not allow me to escort you, perhaps you might concede to one of my servants accompanying you?”

“I would not wish to inconvenience them by taking them away from their chores, or you, my lord, in turn.” I step back, glancing over my shoulder as not to stumble and inflame my ankle further.

“May I at least check to see if the bone is sound?” he asks, already lowering to one knee and offering his hands out for my foot.

My teeth sink into my lower lip and I raise my injured leg, placing it into his grip. He tests the joint. Turning it one way and another. I wince, but do not draw away. The sooner I may satisfy the lord, the sooner I may return to my task. Once satisfied, he places my foot back to the ground and stands.

“Be careful,” he commands, with a hint of a smile drawing his lip upward. “I will send a messenger this evening to ensure you make your way home safely.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I say one final time before turning and limping away to continue my hunt.

He calls my name one more time, but when I turn, he waits in silence before a last, “farewell.” As though he wishes to say more, yet something curbs his speech.

I take my leave, slow and reluctant as curiosity nips at my heels. Though I may well have stayed with the lord and heard him out for all my victory. My father’s traps sit without any bounty. Empty.

I sigh and sink to the ground. A moment of respite so my ankle may rest. My hands dig into the soft, decaying leaves of the forest floor. My head tilts to the sky. A breeze blows through the trees.

Something wraps about my wrist. I jolt and lift my hand, ready to shake loose any impediment to its movement. Yet find a snake wound about it. Like a cuff, it sits just at my wrist, head raised to meet my eye.

I freeze. The snakes of which I’ve heard bite their poor victims, leading to a painful death. I swallow hard and wait for the creature to slither on its way. It does not.

“Please go,” I plead.

Its head tilts. Its tongue flicks. It stays.

I stare at it, slow movements turning my arm one way and another to take a better look at it. The shine of its scales, the intelligence in its eyes.

“Please don’t bite me,” I whisper as I move, looking at its long body, content to perch upon my arm.

Its head moves back to look at me. In the hush of the forest, the breeze ripples through the leaves. Birds chirp. But there is silence around us. A moment, looking into the creature’s eyes where the world around me dulls.

“You are no ordinary snake,” I pronounce in soft tones.

Its tongue flicks. It tickles my skin and I flinch from the unexpected sensation. Thoughts entangled with what sign this creature might bring. It’s relation to the gods. Stories of them and their familiars, their sacred animals. Only one holding snakes in their regard—the Horned Trickster.

“Send my regards to your master and mine,” I say, lowering my hand.

Its muscles move, slithering toward the ground from my fingers. It disappears beneath leaves and between trunks. The sun shines down through the forest canopy, heading to its resting place beyond the horizon. The afternoon heat cooling on a breeze. I push myself to stand, gazing after the snake’s possible path. A sigh blows past my lips, hands brushing dirt away from my skirts. Shuffling carefully through the roots and foliage of the forest, I head home on much steadier feet.

“I do not know how it happened,” I lament many weeks later. Head in hands, my mind struggles toward some semblance of understanding.

My patron stands leaning against the statue of the Thunder Warrior, their gaze tilted toward the ceiling. I begin to pace before them, around in a circle, perplexed by the path of my life.

“Lord Ward has called after me thrice now within the week.” My hand smooths over my hair, trying to help my thoughts remain in my head, and not floating away in a whirl of imaginings.

“You think of him often, do you?” their bored tone comments.

My brow furrows. I pause. “I suppose,” I reply. “Can one not when a man supposes to be so enamored?”

“It is everything you wished?” they ask, though the way they say it—like they don’t need an answer. A harsh bite to their words upon which I do not dally.

Instead, I give them an answer, “It is what I prayed for. I cannot help the fondness that has grown within my heart.”

A deep hiss rumbles from the shadows, filling the temple and rattling my bones. My hands jolt to cover my ears, teeth clenched shut against the grating sound.

“Do not forget,” he says stepping from the shadows to reveal his form, his lip curled and brow set, “you’ve committed yourself to me in this life and the next. You will never marry. You are mine.” His eyes blaze with a barely suppressed rage, fiery and dark.

Stunned by his venom, I ask, “If I am not to marry, what use is the rest? I wish to be loved.” Tears prick at my eyes, distraught as his commandment settles within me. I am to be alone. Regarded by all—and loved by none.

His fury cools, eyes piercing daggers in the low light. “You made your choice,” he states in a crisp, clear cadence, dispassionate and cold.

“I gave you my trust blindly,” I shriek in response. My hand grasps at the cloth of my bodice, grip tight and heart aching. I swallow a panicked sob. “How could you deceive me so? I have only ever done as you bid.”

“Do you love him?” my patron asks, accusation sharp. Answering my distress with such little regard.

Stutters of sound fall from my lips, none forming an answer. The weight of my mistake presses down upon my chest until I cannot breathe. So often my patron had been obliging and kind, the stab of this betrayal far too deep. A chasm opens in my chest and out of it, I speak. “My sister is married and thinks herself already with child. I wish for the same, and I—”

With one last look at the indifferent expression on my patron’s face, my heart shatters. Feet rush from the temple. The candle flickers in the dark, left behind as I dart into the night. Rain spatters across my cheeks, the slick of mud beneath my shoes. Though I do not hesitate, used to the path up the hill and the slightest hint of light on the horizon. Rushing, slipping steps carrying me down the slope. Hoping perhaps my folly might remain far behind at the feet of the gods. That I might escape, even to find myself returned to my previous unremarkable life. Until I reach the cross of the roads and pause. Skirts drenched from rain and weighed down with mud. Chest heaving, coughing in the damp air from exertion. Lost in my own thoughts, the steady approaching clip of horses’ hooves escapes my notice.

Only the impact of their bodies and the tread of wheels over mine thrusts me back to the present. I lay on the ground, gasping for breath, pain ravaging every measure of me. My lips part to call upon my patron, a last plea, but find I cannot. The whisper of a final breath leaving my body and sending my soul along its path to the River.

The waters lap at the sides of the boat in the dark. The Goddess of Death, Hela, stands behind me, oar in hand to push us along with the current across the river.

“Do not touch the waves,” she cautions. The pole moves through the water. “They are full of forgotten memories from those who have crossed. A temptation, but one drop will turn you mad and bind you to its tide.”

I recoil from the edge of the boat to sit upright. Gaze falling to my hands, lighter than air they sit in my lap, grey. No thoughts fill my head. Just silence, peace.

Turning to the Goddess of Death, I ask, “do any memories remain to those who have died?”

“Only those that bring you comfort,” she says without a look toward me or any inflection of sympathy.

A murmur of understanding passes from me, finding consolation in the honesty. Though I cannot place a reason for it. Already, my memories drift along the stream of the Gods Blood. Lost to me.

The oar lifts from the river and rests against the side of her vessel. Her head tilts, gazing up at the eternal black sky above us. Her brow pinches in confusion. I follow the path of her eyes, but see nothing.

A resounding hiss builds around us. The waves of the river grow larger, the boat rocking. The Goddess of Death holds out a hand to steady us upon the water. A displeased glare prominent on her features. Whispers of words drift around the boat, a fog rolling in from behind. Hela turns to slash a hand through it. Unable to make it disperse.

I cling to the bench of my seat, the dullest fear tickling the edges of my consciousness. But nothing more. Perhaps I should fear capsizing and madness, yet such emotions remain indistinct—a consequence of death, to be sure.

In a moment, Hela turns to lash out at a perceived threat and a great appendage wraps about my waist. Warm and strong, it constricts, but I have no breath to halt nor bones to break. It lifts me into the air, shadowed by the darkness of night. I dangle limp and lifeless from its embrace, the prize of its hunt. Perhaps a monster of legend stealing away my soul for a meal. Another fate which engenders no true dread.

A cry chases our ascent into the dark sky. The echoing roar of the goddess’s outrage at losing one of her souls and failing her duty to take me across the Gods Blood. But we ascend regardless.

My eyes close against the light that breaks through the dark clouds, blinded. We land upon solid earth. Flowers rising to greet my fingers, yet passing through like air. I cannot feel them.

The appendage around my waist releases me for a hand, instead, to clasp mine. My eyes turn to the person beside me. Familiar, yet I cannot put name to the lovely, angular face.

“My love,” they say, lithe finger tipping my chin toward them, “We are home.”

They guide me through the doorway of the quaint cottage before us. Another familiarity I cannot place in the haze of my incomplete memories.

The fire roars in its place. I step toward it, vague recollections of comfort tickling at the edges of my mind. I reach out to the licking flames, and feel no warmth.

A hand wraps about mine, guiding me away. They squeeze, and the reassurance of the gesture surges through me. The fingers of my other hand settle on their wrist, petting along their skin up to their sleeves. The fabric of their garments silky under my fingertips. I catch their eye, questions forming on the tip of my tongue. Who are they? Why did they steal my soul? Why am I here?

��Now, my beauty,” they praise. Their lips brush a soft kiss to my forehead. My eyes flutter shut to drink in the sensation. “You will truly be mine.”

Such familiarity, I do not ken. Their face so imprinted upon my thoughts without any recognition.

“I do not remember you,” I admit, staring into their emerald eyes and praying for some spark to ignite.

“That does not matter,” they soothe, thumb rubbing over the back of my palm. “We will have eternity to know one another.”

And we do. Years passing outside the windows of my cottage. Buildings fall, crumbling to dust. Only one of them, a bakery down the road, filling me with any notion of regret as its owners cross the River and time creeps across its walls.

Apart from it all, I watch. Drifting through the cottage, invisible to passersby. Though, even still, whispers reach me—haunted, they call my home. And they are not wrong. The world withers around me, and I remain, a shade bound to the cottage.

Only one bringing me any solace, any relief. They enter the front door and greet me with a smile, their hands offering sensation, feeling. I grasp onto them, reluctant to release them for a moment of their visit. To return to the dullness of my existence without them. The nothing which awaits me upon their withdrawal.

“Hello, my love,” they say. Their fingers tilt my chin and I meet them in a sweet kiss. My fingers pulse about their hand. We part and I let myself fall into the greedy hunger of their gaze.

Their head dips again, lips seeking more. Which I give—again and again. A kiss which might steal my breath if I had any. Their passion a spark igniting between us. Their moans filling the room around us. My fingers sink into the muscle of their shoulders. Clinging to each sensation. I cannot let them go.

“Sweeting,” they gasp. Hands wander across my form until they hitch me into their arms, my body of no substance. ”Come with me.” Though they give me no true choice in the matter—as if I would refuse them and their constant touch.

They carry me to our bed, and set me upon it without once letting me go. Following me to the plush cushions and sheets, their body pins mine to the bed and the weight of it brings a contented sigh to my lips. They drink it in and pull back to meet my gaze.

As always, as I lay beneath them with their eyes shining bright and affectionate, they prompt, “You are…”

“Yours.”

“Yes,” they purr and return their sweet lips to mine.

Unable to grasp at the bedding beneath us, I let my hands clutch at them. Our bodies joining together in amorous undulation, seeking the divine thrill of ecstasy. Chasing that peak of my existence. When the world around me explodes in bright color and brilliance. When I feel alive and whole before it fades and I return to the numbness of my eternity.

They murmur words of love into my ears. The sweat of their body cooling them. A dull shine radiates from their skin. Their holy light, they once told me. Their head rests upon my breasts, their breath tickling across me. I swallow and let my fingers weave into the silky tresses of their hair, the world dimming by the second.

“Welcome home, Loki.”

read more of The Avengers Pantheon at The Undone and the Divine

#loki x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #medieval au #mythology au #loki fanfic #loki fanfction #the avengers pantheon #dark #dark fic #polytheistic au #yandere vibes #dub con #tw dub con #heed the warning #18+#minors dni

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coff-in · 4 days

Note

thank you so much for doing my request!! if you’re comfy with a pt 2 I’d love to read it!! seeing reader cope with becoming a parent and how reader copes with getting raped by andrew … how the dynamic at home changes, andrew as a daddy and ashley as a aunt!! does andrew force reader to marry him? <3 if ur not comfy w doing it as a req then maybe ramble or do it in any other form like a hc! thank youuu 🥹🤍

notes from coff-in: it's past midnight right now where i am (as it it's closer to 1:00am) but i need to write. this is definitely a ramble but thank you for clarifying that i could do that! writing properly for ficlets and headcanons take a bit out of me but i want go give you guys the best that i got, you know? sorry, sorry... on to your ask!

[fem] reader-insert, [afab] reader-insert(?), NSFW, rape, talks/mentions of pregnancy and abortion, incest in the last bits but it's skippable really

the biggest thing that i wonder about is how [reader] met andrew and ashley. how long have they'd known each other? were they quarantined together (was [reader] quarantined at all)? i think i'll leave it up to the reader's interpretation/imagination but these things feel like they should impact the story, you know? um... [reader] doesn't really take to being a mother too well. she doesn't want to be a mother, so it makes sense. ashley wouldn't let her get rid of the child, either. she doesn't like [reader] all that much but she does try to recognize potential opportunities to keep andrew close in this... situation.

the last thing a parent wants to do is to make their child sad. if ashley could get close enough to andrew's child (she'd love the child ofc, it's an extension of her brother) then she could keep andrew close to her, too. any separation of them would also affect the child and until it's born who knows how that can go. ashley doesn't like [reader] all that much. she could come to like [reader], but when i was writing the original piece i sort of didn't write it with ashely in mind... so any relationship they build would be after the rape event.

andrew. andrew andrew andrew. he... he wants the child. it's possibly a new chance for him to have a new life. not necessarily an ordinary life (years of sexual tension between him and his sister build up somehow to him raping a women they sorta kidnap/escaped with from an apartment after demon summoning, murder, and cannibalism) but it could be considered close enough if you squint and tilt your head. again, when writing the original piece i didn't really write with andrew and [reader]'s deeper relationship in mind, just the surface level stuff

andrew has come to care for [reader] to some extent, and the child makes him try to enforce that bond and relationship. he would reflect on his own parents and their parenting and how he raised ashley when it comes to his baby. trying to figure what to avoid (i think putting in the effort would be way better than what his parents did, though. it's not even a battle). he gets touchy feely with [reader]; sleeping in the same bed, holding their hand or resting it on their hip, brushing her hair, etc etc some of the stiff we've seen with ashley. i think he'd also talk to the baby bump, too.

[reader] isn't expected to kill people anymore or to do excessive physical labor. i don't think she takes part in the cannibalism as much either. i'm kinda leaving her vague because i want you guys to really just imprint on [reader] i guess when it comes to this situation. andrew would be a fairly good dad though. uh... sort of dozed off a bit trying to think about him as a dad. he would be way more attentive that his own parents, that's for sure. he's the voice of reason along with [reader] (ashley is that "cool aunt" that the kid loves), but andrew is also still a bit of a doormat or pushover. he can't stay too mad at this kids.

do i think andrew would force [reader] to marry him? maybe. it would probably be good for taxes and other legal documents but i don't know if he'd put such a high value on marriage. i think he'd like the intertwining aspect of it, the legal binding it brings. i doubt ashely would enjoy this but it's also dependent on your relationship.

mixing this idea with incest ideas because i can't help myself right now, fell free to skip this: andrew and a sibling [reader]. especially a younger one. i don't know but i kind of enjoy the idea of him during quarantine (or right after) just... losing control one night. it's not violent or loud or out of hate; it's quiet and gentle and out of frustration. he takes his younger baby sibling while they're sleeping as a way to just let it all out. the tension and stress and repression of his feelings for them... he just lets them go. ashley's dead asleep and so is [reader], as ling as he's quiet there are no immediate consequences to this action. he raised [reader] since they were a fucking baby and what a wonderful adult they had turned out to be (as wonderful as a graves could be).

aaaaahhh, i'm tired. sorry for the weird sleepy rant response. i feel like i should mention again: i have never been raped nor do i know friends or people personally who have been raped. i haven't really read anything scholarly about it so take all i say with a grain of salt and an open mind. thank you for requesting, 'nonnie. i love it when people ask for expansions or explanations in previous posts (reminds me of devious anon, i miss them)

anyway my eye saight is losing focus so i'll end it here. good day/night/evening whatever you are

----

coff-in

#cobweb in the coffin #tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #tcoaal x reader #the coffin of andy and leyley x reader #andrew graves x reader #oh man so eepy rn

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okwritingandpain · 3 months

Text

Penny Lane's Getting Better (The Beatles x Reader)

Chapter 4: Getting Better

Dinner that night was terribly awkward. Your parents look miserable as your sister giggles to herself. The drab dining room reflects the scummy feeling you all have. Finally, your father looks up from his new paper.

"How was your first day, honey?" he asks, setting his paper down. What were you going to tell him? Tell him that you somehow maybe ruined a friendship?

"It was fine," you reply, deciding to avoid the question entirely. Your father doesn't question any farther, but your mother has more to ask.

"Did the neighbor boy give you any trouble?" she asks, sipping her water. Once again, what were you going to tell her? Tell them about him taking you through the city and causing other students to look at you like you were going to cause trouble.

"He was very nice. A true gentlemen," you say, not fully believing yourself honestly. Your mother cocks an eyebrow before your sister cuts in with some random fact about her day. You silently thank her for saving you.

After dinner you sit down at the piano in the hallway. You knew how to play piano, but that didn't mean you were very good at it. Which, in fact, you weren't. That's what the other piano students said, but everybody else you met, praised your ability.

You place your hand on the worn keys, tracing the splintered wood. The piano had come with the home and was very old. You had no idea when it was used last, but it was evident that no one cared for it properly. It was very out of tune and covered with dust.

Lightly pressing the keys, an old but loving sound produces from the piano. Sophie runs in to watch you play. She hits the highest keys on the piano as you try to match notes with her. You weren't very good together, but you had to admit that you hadn't laughed that hard with Sophie in forever.

It was a good way to end the night as your mother called for you to go to bed. You helped your sister to bed as she complained, which you didn't blame her. Usually, you would be complaining too, but you wanted to go to sleep as soon as possible. Tomorrow you would get to see John, Paul, George, and Ringo again.

You brush your teeth and wash your face. You took off the hideous dress and got into something more comfortable.

Finally, something breathable and doesn't look like it got ran over. A simple night gown that made you radiate like an angel.

Your bed was more inviting than ever. You collapse onto the bed, burying you face into the pillow.

An hour or so goes by when a light tapping sound comes from your window. You glance up, was it raining? No, than what could it bed? You cautiously step out of bed, slowly making your way towards the window.

Outside it a figure.

You step back from the window, clutching your nightgown.

The figure taps on your window again. Your stomach churns as a sense of dread crawls up your body.

Finally, the figure beckons you to the window. You gulp and take a shaky step towards the window. You grab a lamp off the dresser and shine it towards the window.

Outside, you finally see him.

"John?" you ask, opening the window. He smiles cheekily at you.

"Hey," he says, stepping into your room. You suddenly feel very expose in your night gown. He looks at you and smirks.

You slap him in the face.

"What are you doing here?" you hiss. He blinks a couple times and rubs his face like a poor puppy.

"What was that for?" he asks, "besides I was taking you out tonight," he smiles.

"Wait, what?" you ask. He nods, pointing to the guitar that sat on his back.

"We're going to a party! Me and the boys have a gig tonight and we thought we would bring you along," he says. He then looks to your chair in the corner of the room. "Hey, it's my Mac!" He smiles. John then grabs the Mac and tosses it at you.

"A party--"

"I'll meet you outside! Wear something cool!" he calls and jumps out your window. You watch him descend back into the street. Suddenly your cheeks are red as you look through your closet and dresser. What could you wear that didn't look hideous?

Wait, you were getting ahead of yourself. Were you really going to follow John to some party after knowing him for a day?

Yes, yes you were.

Finally, you settle on a dress that you had sewn together before you moved. It was something that fit your personal style, but wasn't ugly like all the other dresses.

Taking a deep breath, you debate how easily you could get out of the house without your parents noticing. You could go out the window like John did.

No, that was crazy.

You go through the window. You shakily place your foot on the roof, debating how far the drop is. Feet sliding, you glance over the edge where John is standing, expecting you to come out of the door.

"John," you hiss. You can't be too loud or your parents will hear. He looks up and almost burst out laughing.

"Need some help, pretty princess?" he calls, stepping closer to her. She sits on the edge of the roof. Her heart pounds like she is sitting on a cliff.

John spreads his arms wide, beckoning her to jump. This was the single most stupid thing you ever done. You close your eyes and push yourself off the roof. You feel like a feather until you feel to hands grab you from midair. You open your eyes to see John staring back at you.

"Hey," he says with a smirk. You blush. His hair was combed over now, which made you laugh. He didn't seem like the type to be so fancy and to think he did that while she was changing.

"Uh, hi," you respond with a blush. He sets you down and grabs your arm.

"Come on! We're gonna be late!" He charges down the street, his instrument rattling on his back. You wonder how long it will take for it to fall off his shoulder as you watch the strap begin to slip.

"John--"

"No time!" he calls.

In the distance near a small tree in an upcoming field is the rest of the band. Paul has his bass strapped to his back and George does the same with his guitar. Ringo just has his drumsticks in hand. He wore a big goofy grin as you and John arrive.

"There are the two lovebird," Ringo laughs. Paul punches his arm. You blush, but John doesn't seem to notice.

"No time to dilly dally mates! We have a gig to get to!" he shouts. You swear he probably woke up the whole neighborhood. The other three cheer in response which didn't help your previous predicament.

Ringo walks towards the sidewalk before jolting into a full on sprint down the street.

"Hold up, Ringo!" George yells, chasing after him. Paul laughs, reaching for your arm, but John bats it away. Paul frowns but nods. You watch him run after the other two.

"John--"

"Let's get going." He pushes you forward, forcing you to stay quiet.

After a short jog, you and the boys make it to the house where the party was at. You walk through the front door, surprised by the amount of students from school were there. They all look at you, a little surprised themselves.

Drinks are everywhere, which makes your stomach churn uncomfortably. People stare at you, looking intoxicated. There are teens from your school but other people look way older than they should for a teen party.

"Who's ready for a show!?" John shouts over the crowd who clap and cheer in response. You force a smile even if you felt a little uncomfortable with the amount of people staring at you.

Ringo sets up a drum set that someone brought for him in the corner, Paul tunes up his bass, George plays a couple riffs on his guitar, and John adjusts the microphones.

You decide to sit relatively close, but still far enough to try and make everyone else here think you weren't here because of them. You didn't want the same looks you had at school when you walked in with John. Everyone just judged you so quickly. Why?

"If everyone would like to gather 'round now," John says into the microphone.

People crowd around the four. Were they always this popular? You hadn't really thought about how popular the group was.

George begins strumming and soon the others join in. John sings the vocals, a light vibrato that resides higher than you expected. He had a nasally voice that was so clear. You almost didn't notice when Paul and George began singing the harmony, mixing with John's voice in some grand choir.

You were in awe and then it all hit you. They were popular...because they were good! You couldn't help but smile at the beautiful music.

Other people begin singing along and you join in, suddenly engrossed in their sound.

John glances at you and smiles, seeing you singing right along with them.

Paul glances at you too, while he smiles you can still see a look of regret cross his face. He still felt bad about everything with John and you wish you could fix it for him. It seems like him and John are usually pretty good friends, but obviously you did something to John.

Soon as the song finishes they go right into another one, than another, and then another. A couple hours pass before the band finishes performing. They bow and wipe the sweat off their faces. The crowd cheers and claps their hands with love for the small band of lads.

Immediately after the band finishes packing up, John runs over to you.

"Did you like the show?" he asks, breathing loudly. You smile, grabbing a towel and wiping his face.

"I loved it," you say. He gets a cheeky grin that creates butterflies in you stomach.

"Uh, thanks," he says in response to the towel. You nod as the rest of the band walk up to you. They all chatter about the performance and you tell them your favorite song.

You can't help but notice that Paul keeps his distance from you and John. The twinge of guilt returns. Were you splitting them apart?

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" John asks.

"Uh, sure," you reply without thinking. He pulls you into the kitchen where a bowl full of spiked punch is. He makes sure know one is listening before he looks into your eyes. Your heart pounds a little.

"I was wondering...if maybe you would want to go out sometime?" He gets to the point. Your eyes widen.

He wants to go out with you? Well then the answer is yes!

Wait, but what about Paul? You couldn't do this with the state Paul is in. You had to bring them together first, you had to square everything away before you could just accept this. So the answer is no.

Well, what if John doesn't want to be your friend anymore? What if he just gives up on you and you don't get to go out...ever!

"Are you going to answer?" John asks, gripping your hands. He has a blush on his face and he looks embarrassed.

"I can't," is all you get out.

"What do you mean by that?" he asks. John looks distraught by your answer and a little disappointed.

"I want to go out with you, but you need to fix things with Paul first." You decide to encourage.

"You can't be serious!"

"Please, I don't want to see you and your friend divided."

"Friend? You think I consider him a friend?" John stops talking, realizing what he just said. He sighs, brushing his hair back. He leans against the kitchen counter.

"I didn't mean that...I'll try and fix things...I...will," he mutters. You nod, feeling a little bad for letting him down. You hope though, that Paul and him can be friends again.

"Paul wants to fix things..." you whisper.

"I know, I just...I don't think you understand exactly what is going on," he replies, "maybe one day you will."

You don't exactly know what to say to that, but you don't say anything.

"Will you please go out with me? I promise I'll fix things with Paul. I would just love if you would say yes," he urges. You hesitate.

You didn't exactly want to encourage poor behavior, but you didn't know how this would end if you said no.

"Yes, I will go out with you," you whisper. He gives a small smile, reaching to hug you. One of his hands snakes down to your back while the other continues holding your hand.

Maybe things would finally get better after all this drama in your first few days of living here.

@sabrielka-133

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alieinthemorning · 7 months

Text

Drift Away [Queen Bee | Chloé Bourgeois]

Content: Angst, Songfic, Song: Drift Away (Steven Universe)

Header: @/polar-biscuit

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Here in the Garden Let’s play a game

“Pound it!”

I’ll show you how it’s done

“Pollen, buzz off.”

Here in the Garden Stand very still

“Time to return it, Chloé.”

This’ll be some much fun

“...of course.”

And then she smiled That’s what I’m after

“When I need you again, I come for you, Queen Bee.”

A smile in her eyes The sound of her laughter

“I promise you can count on me, Ladybug!”

Happy to listen

Her idol trusted her!

Happy to play

She wasn’t going to let her down.

Happily watching her drift away

Because she promised.

Happily waiting All on my own

She was so excited to be Queen Bee

Under the endless sky

She had her father purchase her a large projection lamp with a bee on it.

Counting the seconds

So the moment an Akuma attack happened,

Standing alone

She could let Ladybug know she was ready and available.

As thousands of years go by

Because she promised.

Happily wondering

Night after night

Will Ladybug need her for the next battle?

Is this how it works?

Another new hero?

Am I doing it right?

But she was right here…

Happy to listen

No— she just had to have faith

Happy to stay

And wait.

Happily watching her drift away

Because she promised.

You keep on turning pages for

She should have known.

People who don’t care about you

Every eye roll,

Every sneer,

Every time she brushed her off,

Every time she said something under breath.

And still, it takes you ages to see that no one’s there

Just like the rest.

See that no one’s there

Like her mother and father.

See that no one’s there

Like her sister.

Everyone’s gone on without you

Like her childhood best friend.

Finally something Finally news About how the story ends

She knew it.

She doesn’t exist now

Queen Bee had lost her crown.

Replaced by Vesperia

To another.

Tossed away again

Left alone in her destroyed hive.

Isn’t that lovely? Isn’t that cool? And isn’t that cruel And aren’t I the fool to have

She promised.

Happily listened

She believed her.

Happy to stay

She waited.

Happily watching her drift

As Ladybug left her

Drift

Like everyone

Drift away

Always did.

“Chloé Bourgeois, I am Shadow Moth.”

Reposting the original end note because I still stand by it:

Okay, so I have feelings! Basically! We were talking about how Marinette came to be the Guardian, which led me to have to refresh my memory. And it's kinda fucked up, that the only reason why Chloé even joined HM, was because he kinda sort spit some facts.

Because tbh, what has LB done for Chloé. Not a damn thing. Which would be fine, because she doesn't owe her anything, of course. BUT, she does treat her like shit. As she would if she were Marinette. Which is like, you gotta keep your hero beef and civilian beef separated, girl. Anyway, besides being hated by virtually every person in Paris, the one person she looks up to, couldn't give two shits about her.

And you know what? That fucking sucks! To have literally no one! So yeah, fuck it. Let the world burn. [Also no, this is Marinette salt or bashing nor is it salt or bashing against any other character. It's just straight facts.]

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #alie ficlets: version 2 #mirauclous fanfiction #chloe bourgeois #character study

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crimson-host · 10 days

Text

Welp, another AU idea I gotten and now running with, Gilf Jaune, yeah, this is gonna be out there but oh well, again, question ask away, mainly gonna be shitposts but I like making stuff at random

Old Man Relic

Jeanne was pouncing on her bed, giddy and ecstatic, having received arguably the best news in her life! "My my, first time seeing you this excited partner" Giggling her was Jeanne's partner Pyrrha, at the desk working on some homework "heh, sorry about that, I'm just so exited because my grandpa is coming to visit!" Pyrrha perked up at that, happy for her leader "aww, that's great, will we be able to meet him too?" Jeanne scoffed at the idea of not showing how her badass grandpa to her team "duh!, not only is he my grandpa but also a badass veteran huntsmen, he said he was coming to see how Beacon been and to help train me more!, so obviously gonna let you, Ren, and Nora join in!" Ren perked up, happy for his leader but also intrigued "a veteran huh, considering he's your grandfather I'm presuming he served in the great war?" Jeanne nodded, indeed her grandfather was old, but in truth the man was so much older, he barely looked over 75, and in truth he was 120! "Yup, 120 war veteran and hero!"

Pyrrha and Ren couldn't believe what their leader said, sure Aura could basically slow down aging by a bit, staying in peak condition by 60 if not littl more, but 120 had to be a exaggeration, and right on queue "120?!?" busting out off the bathroom was Nora, only wrapped in a towel as she was in the process of brushing her teeth "That's so cool!" Jeanne chuckled as their surprise, Nora quickly shutting the door to dry off fully and get dressed, then busted out of the bathroom again "HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?!?" From Ren or Pyrrha that question would have been one of bewilderment, but for Nora, she genuinely wanted to know Grandpa Arc's secret to being so old "Well it's due to his naturally large aura reserves and his semblance, Aura Amplification, basically he can rapidly refill anyone's aura and even strengthen their semblance, including himself, basically giving him near unlimited reserves, thanks to that and using it so often back during the war, his lifespan is further than even most huntsmen" Her team was in shock and awe, not only a walking relic, his semblance was downright broken "That so cool!, he must have been a monster back in his day!" Nora was endlessly giddy "Yup, tho now he mainly stays back home, guarding the village and playing the village sage, offering advice and wisdom to whoever asked, a hero he was, a tired old man he is now" And with her peace said, she smiled softly reminiscing about all the old adventuring stories, Ren got up off his bed "So, when is he supposed to arrive?" And at that question Jeanne got up with a surprising smug grin "in just an hour" Nora started jumping and bouncing off the wall "wooooo!, let's go meet the badass Arc Patriarch!" And with that they began finishing up and making sure they all dressed to impressed

Team JNPR stood at the front of Beacon Academy, waiting eagerly for Grandpa Arc's arrival, but while they waited their sister team, Team RWBY spotted them and came over "Jeanne!" Shouted the Red Reaper of Team RWBY "Ruby!, Yang!, Weiss!, Blake!, heya guys!" Jeanne responded back as she was tackled hugged by Ruby "Hey guys, so what's the special occasion?, standing out in the plaza all fancy and pristine" Pyrrha perked up to answer "Jeanne's grandpa is coming to stay awhile to see how she's been" Ruby let go of Jeanne and stood excited "Jeanne's grandpa!, then he must be a super cool Huntsmen!" Jeanne nodded, happy Ruby could already recognize her Grandfather's badassery without even needing to know of his exploits "And get this, Jeanne said her grandpa is 120!, he's a immortal badass!" Nora unable to keep a secret, too excited to contain herself, obviously Team RWBY couldn't believe it "I'm sorry but I find that very unlikely, the 100 would the most, but 120?, that has to be exaggerated a little" Huffed the heiress Weiss Schnee "I'm not, I'm serious he's super old because of his aura and semblance, he'll tell you the same when he arrives!" Jeanne refused to let anyone doubt her super cool grandpa "Well then we won't have to wait long, that must be his Bullhead" Pointing at the approaching Bullhead transport was the smu-(ow!...ahem) Adult Literature reader Blake, which soon landed in front of Beacon, it's side transport door opening, out stepping a fairly tall man, gray and white haired pulled out mostly into a pony-(ow!...sigh) Lone Wolf tail, simple white button up shirt, duster, blue jeans with two belts, and boots, the most striking was his partly dull but still piercing blue eyes, a tower shield on his back, and a strange sword hand with a unusual blocky guard, Jeanne began rushing the man down "GRANDPAAAAA!"

The Old Man had just reached the bottom of the stairs as he was knocked to the floor by his granddaughter, letting out of heavy groan "H-Hey Jenny, g-good to see you too..ooh by back is gonna feel that one in the morning.." Team RWBY and rest of Team NPR look on in..confusion and less than convinced about the old man's incredible past, tho maybe the age was accurate little..

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #GILF Jaune

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lythea-creation · 1 month

Text

Changes - Nadeen x fem reader (Chapter 1)

summary: A lot had changed over the last months, especially (f/n)'s twin sister Hiba who seemed to hate (f/n) now. When (f/n) has given up on making any new friends, Nadeen suddenly intrudes her life in the best way possible.

warnings: bullying

word count: 1.161

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated! If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

----------------------

“Head in the books once again?”, Hiba mocked me, snatching the book out of my hands.

“Cut the crap, Hiba”, I shot back annoyed.

Why did she always have to get on my nerves?

Her friends were staring and laughing at us, obviously enjoying the show.

“Just give it back”, I requested, stretching my hand out to her.

“Nah”, she uttered and threw the book over her shoulder to the front of the classroom.

Without another word I rose and got it back, not granting her the satisfaction of seeing my inner turmoil at her behavior.

“I can't believe she's your sister”, Tasneem proclaimed chuckling.

“Me neither. She's such a loser”, Hiba noted.

It had not always been like that. There had actually been times when we had loved each other more than anything else. But I guessed that had died together with mom.

“Here you go”, Nadeen stated after picking up the book for me and handing it over.

“Thanks”, I mumbled, forcing myself to smile at her when everything inside of me wanted to scream.

“That book looks cool”, she remarked, eyeing the cover.

“It is. You could borrow it if you want to. I'm almost finished anyway. Should only take the break to wrap it up”, I offered before even thinking about it.

“Great”, she rejoiced, sending a grin my way.

I kept my promise by giving her my book in the bus, before moving to a seat as far away from Hiba as possible. I was not keen on triggering another outburst of cruelty.

Yet I could not escape her when it was time to get off the bus. But instead of talking to me, she brushed past me making sure to bump into my shoulder in the process.

Luckily we had separate rooms. Otherwise I would probably lose my mind.

I threw myself onto my bed and checked my social media, talking to some of my friends. Unfortunately they were attending another school than me and lived a thirty minute drive away. So I did not see them too often.

I almost dropped my phone onto my bed when it suddenly started buzzing. But my mood quickly brightened at the name and picture of my best friend on my display.

“Hey, Sam”, I greeted her, the nickname automatically falling from my lips.

It was a video call and therefore I could see her frown at me.

“Hey, what happened? You look like shit”, she proposed.

“Thanks”, I replied sarcastically. “Just the typical stuff.”

“Hiba again?”, she reassured.

“I dunno what's up with her. She just loves taunting me”, I assumed.

“Still hard to believe that she turned into such a bitch”, Sam pointed out. “She used to be so sweet.”

“She just doesn't talk to me anymore”, I enlightened her. “I never know what's running through her mind.”

“Tell me about it. My siblings are the exact opposite, but still getting on my nerves in another way”, she claimed. “And here they come.”

Her two little brothers had burst into the room, creating chaos everywhere around. I did not question it when Sam hung up without any warning.

I sighed as I let go of my phone. Lately it was all feeling so worthless. I had pretty much no social life.

I spent the rest of my day staying in my room and reading another book. It was the only thing that could keep my mind from spiraling.

The next day Nadeen settled on the bus seat beside me. “Hey! I started reading the book and it's awesome. How did you pick it up?”

“I got it from my mom's collection”, I revealed.

“You have a whole collection?”, she questioned astonished. “What a life ...”

“You could always borrow one if you want to”, I offered.

“Are you kidding?”, she reassured.

“Of course not”, I promised.

“You're the best! Honestly I kinda feel bad though. I don't wanna use you for your books. How about hanging out sometime? But please not at your place unless Hiba isn't home”, she considered.

“I could come over to yours”, I suggested.

“Great! Just give me your number and I'll send you my address”, she agreed.

Said and done.

Afterwards Nadeen moved over to her usual spot next to Sarah. So I decided to listen to music with my headphones. The only thing that could compete with my love for books.

The school day passed by excruciatingly slowly, like time used to do for me by now. That was the thing when you did not have anything to look forward to.

But it changed when I got a message in the afternoon. A simple “Hi, it's Nadeen. Here's my address (…).”, followed by: “You can pretty much come over whenever. Even today if u want to.”

So it was a decision between reading and potentially making a new friend. Spending most of my free time in my room for the last few months was making this decision easy.

My phone was telling me that Nadeen's house was about a thirty minute walk away. So I did not have to consider to bike over. My bike was not exactly my best friend for countless reasons.

“Hey! You made it! Come on in”, Nadeen encouraged me as soon as she had opened the front door.

She did not hesitate to lead me to her room, getting a glass of water for me on the way.

The minute I entered her room my eyes were drawn to all the posters on her walls. A room could tell you a lot about the person and Nadeen seemed to be a fan of true crime and horror.

“Want some popcorn? I just started watching a movie”, she offered while sitting down on the bed and pointing to a bowl.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks”, I shot back taking some.

“You know you can sit down, right?”, she reassured, her voice slightly laced with amusement.

“Right”, I remarked and dropped down onto her bed. “I haven't been at someone's house for so long. It feels like I don't know how to hang out anymore.”

“Well with me it's basically chilling on the bed and watching some movie or talking, maybe playing some games or reading together”, she enlightened me.

“Sounds great”, I noted.

“Glad to hear that”, she proposed. “So what is it with you and Hiba?”

She took herself a hand full of popcorn.

“Sibling stuff, I guess. She turned into a jerk and I didn't wanna support that. Now I'm basically her nemesis and everyone stays away from me to not get on her bad side”, I explained.

“Wow ...”, Nadeen uttered. “Nah, I'm not scared of her.”

“Glad to hear that”, I repeated her words from earlier.

---------------------

Next Chapter

So here's the first chapter of my new Nadeen series. What do you think about it? It will also be a lot about the relationship with Hiba. So it's kinda a two in one.

Tag List: @sunwoniie

#al rawabi school for girls #nadeen x reader #female reader #lgbtqia #romance #angst #drama #hiba

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nana1000night · 3 months

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Okay, I know I've had this thots before......

But... I love the way Phoenix would protect Maya even though he's in the lowest period.

But my mind tell me more ......

What about Phoenix IS dragon when he's in the normal positive vibes?

His hairs, those spikes looks like dragon (or I'd say loong or ryu to distinguished the western dragon)

But when he lost his badge, when the fire burnt his every scales to ashes, he found those glows dimmed.

Phoenix felt desperate and self-doubt, he can't trust anyone when he couldn't even trust himself.

He didn't receive Maya's call, Edgeworth's call or anyone else. He felt shame, for himself, for Mia.

What Dahlia said burnt his heart.

You always been so easily to trust people. You're so pathetic.

He lost and failed.

However, I don't think that Maya and Edgeworth would let Phoenix just be a puddle slime of sad.

They both came to Phoenix, and Maya hugged him and whispered:

"We won't ditch you, Nick. We won't give up to you."

Edgeworth pat Phoenix's shoulder, then he was dragged into a big, group hug by Maya.

Phoenix didn't say anything, he felt tired and didn't know what actually to say at the moment.

His heart, on the contrary, turns to bittersweet and sour at the same time.

At least, his two best friends didn't abandon him right now.

Phoenix is not the type who can let the truth be buried. Especially when he knew Kristoph was the culprit of his disbarment, and the case of Zak still is a huge of mess.

Edgeworth warned him about Kristoph's dangerous. His selfish and calculating might worse then Morgan Fey.

These two men decided then, that they can't let Maya being harmed.

Kristoph must knew the new Master of Kurain amd how much affects she has to the high society.

Still, no one can guarantee that he would try to kill Maya if she still with Phoenix.

Phoenix chose to cut his ties with Maya, only send a few letters occasionally.

Maya knew something went wrong, she was a smart girl, besides, she asked Mia after the day.

"He needs time to gather himself, Maya. Give him some time. "

That's all her sister wrote.

So Maya wait.

The newborn feather tickles the flesh and bones.

Steel Blue Feathers

Phoenix realize that he's changed, he's not the dragon anymore.

He's on the ground, but his stubborn and his friends' help became his wings some how.

Those fragile feathers would be strong and sharp in time, and Phoenix knows that he could fly AGAIN.

Maya send Phoenix a letter, she said she would be at the city cause an CEO want to meet her sister through spirit channeling. She wrote down an address and said that she'd wait for Phoenix.

Phoenix didn't reply, but he wandered to the accurate address before Maya.

He waited without let her notice him. phoenix just want to see her one more time, even though he can't let Maya see him.

Then, Phoenix found there's someone is watching Maya and the CEO.

After half hour, Maya walked out, with the red eyes CEO. The CEO thanks Maya again and bid her goodbye.

The stalker followed Maya, so Phoenix followed them.

It's near 6 PM, the sky is darkening.

The stalker became closer to Maya, but his hands can't reach to Maya.

BEFORE HEAVY DARK MIST SURROUND HIM.

"Don't NEAR FEY!"

The mist choke his throat and the stalker thought he saw his whole life running in front of his sight again.

Something gnarled and growling louder.

"Get off before I regret it."

The dark mist faded, and the stalker found himself at the deepest place of an unfamiliar alley.

The stalker fled in panic.

In another small alley, behind the crafts stores the empty "grape juice", the dimmed steel blue glowing in the darkness.

Maya is faint, laying on the chest of a man. A gray sport coat covers her body to desists the cooling temperature.

Those black mist, brushes the yound lady's face gently.

The flames of steel blue had build another dimension only for the man and Maya.

"Sleep well, my Fey. No one will hurt you."

The Man kiss Maya's forehead and murmured.

When Maya woke up, she's in her own bedroom.

How'd she came back to the village, she had no idea.

Pearl said there's a giant phoenix who send Maya back.

Of course, Maya didn't buy it. Even though Pearl swear that she's saying the truth.

But when Maya changing her clothes, there's a steel blue feather falls down to the sheet.

Maya picked it up, watching the feather closely.

She put it towards her chest and smile.

"Nick......"

#narumayo #shipping bubbles

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wrencatte · 11 months

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AWESOME!!!

the inherent power of taking your love and dedication to save a sibling and making that a driving force that inevitably pushes you past what you couldve simply been towards something more and even then its secondary to your personal goal,,, very cool of jack!! the jack/sienna dynamic is probably really cool! + rune magic AND inherent magic, both are so so awesome!! amazing of astoria to be that cool woah,,, do you have a plan on what the basis of the rune's looks would be? hope astoria and zinnia have lots of fun togetherrr also 🤝 on using magic in stories fr,, magic my beloved you make things so interesting and fun

you didn't ask for snippets but i couldn't resist. thank you for letting me talk about this <3 also bear with me. I have like 50 thousand versions of mountain story so finding the most recent one is....difficult. and they're 100% wips. but this one! Is about 650 words of the ending of the...beginning really. (under read more bc i also have some of tadpole) Tadpole is fun because i like intermixing social media/media feeds in with stories, but it's actually a little hard to do properly?? Sometimes it just comes out cringe. but I had to do it with tadpole anyway because i couldn't resist. unfortunatly this is getting long, so i didn't include that in here.

Magic doesn’t know how to work anymore, she tells herself. Over and over again. Despite the reason she’s come to these woods. Despite the glittering swords and the shimmering wind. Magic has laid claim to many people. Has taken to the souls of humans and animals and planets and twisted into something else. It’s something old into something new, coming back like a burned back forest reclaiming its land.

It left and now it’s coming back. Please, it doesn’t know how to work anymore. Not without something to work through. Give her this one thing, this one hope, that there’s a loophole into getting her sister back.

“Give her back. Give her back! Give. Her. BACK!”

“No.”

Jack whirls around and finds herself in a clearing that hadn’t been there a second ago. She slides her feet out instantly, knees bent. She has no weapons, and she can already tell any attempts at hand-to-hand are going to fail spectacularly. But she is more than willing to launch herself at the thing lumbering from behind the tree line. The one that told her no.

They’re tall. As tall as the tallest tree in the forest. At least ten feet taller than Jack’s below average five-foot-six. And, despite their vaguely humanoid shape, they’re more tree than not. Too skinny legs like branches, arms so long their knuckles brush the ground. Too many joints. Skin peeling like birch. Where a face should be – there is nothing. Just a knot like a lost branch, and a cragged, void-mouth. Nestled in the fall-orange leaves that could be called hair, are two antlers in the middle of shedding, soft velvet falling away to reveal blood-red flesh underneath.

Jack swallows thickly, hands curled tightly into fists to hide how they tremble in fear. “Where is my sister?” she says softly, tone still furious—and made all the more dangerous by the volume—but it’s, if you listen closely, lost all the bite that made it sharp.

The creature cocks their head and sways forward until they’re using their knuckles to walk on all four. “No,” they say, and they sound like a thousand voices caught in the wind, trapped somewhere between laughing and screaming. Jack flinches, tears burn her eyes. “You cannot have her back.”

“Please,” she chokes out. “She’s my sister.

Their laugh sounds like a bay of hounds and the sounds of wolves grows further away. “I know,” they say, dragging the words over their teeth. Sharp, pointed teeth, caked in black and death. “But she was not mine to take, so that makes her not mine to return.”

“Lies!” Jack accuses.

Rot dribbles over the sides of their mouth as they smile unnaturally wide. “If you want to believe that, but you know that is not true. It is the same as those things you are trying to convince yourself of. Of no monsters and no magic, trying to keep yourself safe and hidden. It will not work.”

“What can I do?” she begs.

They slide toward her, gouging the ground as they go, black oozing from their touch. “Find the silence in the water,” they say as they reach out with spindle fingers, the tips brushing Jack’s forehead. She doesn’t flinch. “Your night will fall first. Then the day. Soon, this mountain will crumble, and the ocean will burn.”

The ground seems to open and swallow Jack up. She feels untethered yet too heavy all at once. “Who are you?”

There’s silence first. Then their smile grows and grows until the rot pours over their mouth like a waterfall, dripping to the earth. New growth spring forward, then withers away in the next moment. “Why, I am The Slow Ache That Plagues Rebirth,” they say. “But you may call me Pydredd.”

Decay, the winds whisper through the trees. Jack shudders.

And then this one! is a bit of tadpole aka the price of lions

this is where it ends – people are screaming. They’re screaming and crying, a crescendo of background noise that blurs together staticky in her ears. She crouches behind a ruined car, the metal hot, burning, melting hot, against her back. Her chin wobbles, cheeks soaked in tears, her hair clings damp to her jaw. Something explodes and she flinches, ducking down and curling into the tiniest ball imaginable, squeezing her eyes shut as another explosion sounds. Debris rains down, the car burns sun fire hot. A baby cries until it doesn’t cry anymore.

She folds her hands to her chest in an almost prayer, sobbing. She doesn’t want to die. She doesn’t want to die. There’s no other way out of this except through death, she’s sure, and that scares her more than the explosions ringing like fireworks, like thunder. She used to like storms, the crack of lightning on the horizon, crisp and clear, blinding, and resplendent, followed by rolling thunder that rattled her teeth, thrummed her heart, and make her sister shriek in happiness, her arms thrown wide to welcome the angry roiling clouds and the torrent of rain soon to follow. Her sister –

Laughter sounds, echoing and deranged, as the last explosion fades into whispers. She shoves herself under the car, breath held tightly as stones screech at her movement. The car rocks, groaning and burning, then goes still. The whole world goes still, nary a breath to be heard, suspended just in this moment like she is, frozen solid like a prey animal who’s caught the attention of a predator.

There’s footsteps, slow and steady, and a voice singing a song of mockery and disdain. She twists around until she’s facing the street, hands pressed to her face to hide anything that might indicate she’s alive. And she sees him, dressed in the black and greys of Tmouasto’s High Mages, badges of silvery blue to indicate his rank. It’s a high rank. High enough she doesn’t doubt he’s the only one here.

She questions why he’s here, why her city. They’re far from the border, they have no mages of rank here, why send him to them. Why destroy and murder and tear apart their city in what could only be called a rampage? She wonders how many people are, are dead (– dead and gone and oh gods, what did they do to deserve this?), how many people he deliberately aimed to kill with his magic.

Sobbing, faint on the wind, drifts through the ever-thickening smoke. Something crumbles in the distance, a building collapsing after one valiant last stand. He kicks a rock. It bounces and skips with a hollow sound until it, with a dull thud, hits a bloodied hand sticking out from under a signpost. The hand twitches briefly, but quickly goes still. It only moved because of the rock.

Rage sparks deep in her chest at the sight. Her tears of fear and grief transform into sudden loathing. She clutches the fabric of her dress over her heart, hands shaking and trembling for a whole other reason now. How dare – ! He strolls along, hands shoved in his pockets nonchalantly, his sung words turning into a jaunty whistle. How fucking dare he!

She braces – and hesitates. What is she thinking? What could she do? Confront the Tmouasto man, the same man who can wreck a city’s center into a ghost town in mere hours? The same man who wears smoke and soot and blood as a badge of honor? The same man who’s bent over a body, inspecting his work with a satisfied grin?

And, what could she do against him? Him, a High Mage of one of the best militaries in the world. Him, who can make explosions appear out of thin air that take out two blocks in a single move. Him, who decimated first responders without a flinch. Him, who uses firefirefire – Oh.

Oh.

Well, if there’s one thing she can do, she can go down defiant.

She uncurls slowly, fingers cramping when she releases her dress, her chest aching when she takes a fortifying breath. Ash coats the inside of her mouth; smoke fills her lungs. Everything is hot and burning, bright white smoldering. She reaches back, looks for the memory of storms, of her sister’s smile with hair plastered to her forehead in the rain. She reaches for the boomcrash of waves the few times they went to the water line. She conjures the coolness of a clean drink, the hum of the washing machine on a quiet day. She thinks to streams and rivers and oceans. To water, pure and rushing, crashing against rock, bringing foundations to their knees, smothering fire.

#my writing #original writing

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barbiewritesstuff · 2 years

Text

Church Encounters: Chapter 23

-- Sorry this took a while, life got busy! Also please don't be mad, this is 15k words... enjoy!

This fic is written in collaboration with @lgg5989 who will be posting this to her tumblr and her AO3

Previous Part

Taglist: @acarboni21 @unsurebuttrying @dempy @peaches-1998 @bbooks-and-teas @roosterscock @positivelyholland --

“Cupcakes are done!” Natasha said, popping her head through the doorway, her hair covered in four where she had brushed it away from her forehead, “I know I know, I look like whatsername from X-men.”

“Rogue?” Jake volunteered.

“That’s the one!” Natasha smiled,” Anyway, they’re cooling in the fridge, I can make the icing if you want but I don’t know if you want to frost them now or if you’re keeping that for tomorrow…”

“No, I want to get it out of the way, I think. We’ll be busy enough tomorrow as is,” you replied, slowly getting out of the rocking chair, placing Charlotte back in Jake’s arms so the three of them could snuggle while you worked.

“I made you a coffee,” Phoenix said, “It’s decaf though. I know y’all are only allowed like three cups total, my sister had to kick the habit when she got pregnant,” she explained. You hummed in agreement, placing one hand on her arm and giving it a gentle squeeze of thanks.

“So we’re making --,” you started, quickly checking your phone for Maria’s cake instructions, “-- a chocolate ganache for the chocolate cake, a vanilla cream cheese frosting with caramel drizzle for the carrot cake and a whipped cream frosting for the strawberry tier -- actually, I’ll do that one tomorrow, whipped cream frosting doesn’t last great in the fridge … I think we can make vanilla cream cheese and caramel for the cupcakes, what do you think?”

“Sounds great to me. What are we doing for the like outside decorations? How does she want it to look?” Nat asked, glancing over at your phone.

“White frosting over the entire cake, with a small chocolate heart saying ‘B + M’ like a carving in a tree,” you replied, “Easy peasy,” you smiled.

Making the frosting was the easy bit, you knew the recipes by heart now after years and years of baking and being the designated dessert person at every barbecue, dinner party and birthday party any of your friends had ever had, but as much as you enjoyed baking, cake decorating was your least favourite bit.

Still, you did your best to bring Maria’s vision to life. You whipped up the ganache and spread it between layers of the chocolate cake, made a well in the carrot cake’s cream cheese frosting to pour cooled caramel in, and painstakingly piped buttercream over every single one of the vegan cupcakes. In order to limit what you would need to do tomorrow, you also made the white buttercream that would cover the whole cake, making sure to add a drop of purple food colouring into the mix to really bring out the white.

You crashed down into the sofa, exhausted and horrified to find out it was already lunch. You mentally went through your pantry and fridge, wondering what you could cook up when the doorbell rang.

“I’ve got it!” Jake called, coming out of the nursery, still wearing his pyjamas. He made his way to the front door, patting down his hair to look a little more presentable before opening it.

“I bring lunch,” Beau announced, “And bad news, I’m afraid. The Seresin clan are stuck at the airport, the plane’s had a mystery malfunction and they don’t know when they’ll get there. I’m on standby to pick them up until then… I haven’t told Bob and Maria, obviously, they’re already stressed enough…”

“Bob was a wreck last night while we were fixing the car, Father Dan ended up sending him home while we fixed the car just so he could take a breather,” Jake said, “It’s all good, though, the car’s running again.”

“What was wrong with it?”

“Would not be able to tell you,” Jake laughed, “I’m not a car guy, they just told me what to do and I did it.”

“I would have thought you’d know something about cars, Jake,” Nat said, coming in with a pot of coffee for everyone and four mugs.

“Nat, please move in,” you sighed, gratefully taking your second cup of caffeinated coffee of the day into two hands. Natasha laughed, she took the seat next to you on the sofa, sitting as far away from Cyclone as physically possible.

“It’s weird seeing him outside of work,” she whispered in your ear, “He’s so… normal,” she added. You chuckled, “I keep thinking he’s going to glare at me and tell me off for reckless flying,” she said

��I wouldn’t have to, Lieutenant Trace, if you didn’t fly recklessly. I know Bob trusts you, but that doesn’t mean I have to give you carte blanche for every manoeuvre you can think of when you’re flying against Bradshaw,” Cyclone said, fixing her with one of his famous glares, “I like my son to come home in one piece.”

“Yessir,” she said, making herself as small as possible, like a student being told of by a teacher.

“Anyway, tuck in,” Beau replied, pulling little boxes out of the brown bag he had brought in. He placed one in front of you, removing the lid at the same time to reveal a portion of Lizzie’s infamous lasagna. Jake disappeared into the kitchen for a second, coming back with cutlery for everyone but before you could scoop a mouthful onto your plate, Jake’s phone rang. He picked up, putting it on speaker

“Well I’m fucking cursed, is this what I get for getting Maria --” Bob started

“Speaker!” Jake warned, “Beau is here, and so is Phoenix,”

The line went quiet for a moment before Bob answered, more calmly, “Right, thanks.”

“What’s gone wrong now?” you asked.

“The Dj was setting up, we had a power cut and the computer won’t start,” Bob sighed, “I’m cursed, I swear…”

“Calm down. I’ll come by and see what’s up, I might be able to fix it for you,” Jake said, abandoning his lasagna and pushing it towards you, “Give me twenty minutes to hop in the shower and drive over, though.”

He bounded up the stairs, skipping every other step to speed up the process. A few seconds later you heard your ensuite shower turn on and another moment later you heard it turn off as Jake stepped out to find some clothes to wear. Bob was still on the phone, talking to Phoenix and Beau as Maria talked to the wedding planner, telling them where she wanted things to go.

“Most of the out of state guests on my side have made it here okay, we’re having dinner with my mom tonight. She’s not met Maria, yet -- Oh, I’ve just realised, she doesn’t know I’m catholic… That’ll be interesting…,” he said, chuckling nervously, “Anyway, I better go before something else breaks… I don’t want Maria to have to deal with the stress all by herself…”

Jake barrelled back down the stairs, his own laptop tucked under his arm in case the DJ’s couldn’t be fixed. He kissed you on the lips, waved at Phoenix and clapped Beau on the shoulder before vanishing down the corridor to bid your napping babies goodbye.

“I forgot how much they slept,” Beau said as he watched Jake quietly close the nursery’s door, “And how tiny they are at that age,” he added.

“They’ve already grown up so much,” you replied, looking past Beau at the gallery wall of family pictures. While many were of just you and Jake, you had started adding pictures of the little ones too.

Taking centre stage was one of the first pictures you had ever taken as a family, albeit none of you knew it at the time, Bob had sneaked in after his first visit, having forgotten his jacket and caught all of you sleeping. You were laying on the bed, the babies were peacefully snoozing in their crib, and Jake had fallen asleep on a chair, his leg over one of the arm rests and his head resting against the wall behind him. Bob had sent it to you as soon as you woke up, and you had it printed two days after getting home. Although it was supposed to be a funny picture, you found it sweet and it showcased just how tiny the twins had been the day they finally arrived.

“Hmm,” Beau sighed, “Feels like the triplets arrived yesterday…They’re in primary school now… They can write and read a little. Goodness, soon enough I’ll have to worry about them dating,” he laughed but you could tell by the way his head hung low that he felt sad about it. Phoenix stood up, taking the empty cups and lasagna boxes with her to the kitchen.

“You grew up so fast,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, “One second you fit into my arms and now look at you…”

You stood up, grabbing the waist of his shirt to pull him closer and hugged him tightly, “I still fit,” you mumbled into his shirt, “I’ll always fit.”

You felt him smile against your forehead as he placed a kiss against your skin, “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you replied.

----

You worried over the arrival of the Seresins’ flight all night, but early the next morning you received the text from Beau saying that they had landed.

You opened the front door and shivered. While California didn’t know true cold weather, you had lived here long enough to shiver as soon as the temperature dropped below 50F, much to Annie and Audrey’s amusement. At the thought of them, a frown marred your face. Annie and Audrey’s flight had been delayed since yesterday. Lake effect snow from Chicago had hit Indianapolis, grounding their flights. You weren’t sure if they would even make the wedding, but you hadn’t given up hope yet.

You wrapped your knit cardigan tighter around you, hoping it would keep you protected from the wind but it proved no barrier against the breeze as you stretched out your arm to hug Sophia, who, in her puffy coat, was equally unused to the cold.

“Hello mama!” she said, her teeth shattering as she spoke, still cheerful despite the time and the lack of sleep. Their flight had landed three hours ago after a six hour delay. They had gone to the hotel to check in and shower, but the adults, full of giddy energy, had all opted to stay awake and come over.

“How are you feeling? How is the baby?” She asked. You paused for a moment, debating what to say. Jake had briefed you earlier that none of his siblings had been told about the twins.

“We’re all good!” you answered, deciding on the most diplomatic answer you could manage, one that was technically not a lie. You let Sophia through into the warm house where she settled herself onto the sofa, in front of the open fire, palms stretched out in front of her to warm herself up.

You looked back out towards the driveway where Giovanni Senior, Gio and Tony were unbuckling sleeping children and passing them onto Beau, Isabella and Alessandra to carry into the house. Leaving your post by the door you went to check up on the dryer cycle in the laundry room, you saw the timer had run out. You pulled warm blankets out, folding them into a laundry basket as you went and carried them all to the spare room, where you had set up mattresses and camp beds for the children to sleep in. Giving each bed a blanket, you made sure it all looked comfortable before taking Agostino out of his father’s arms and placing him down on a bed, his toy monkey held tightly in his hands.

“Where is yours then?” Gio asked with a grin, nodding towards his son.

“Still sleeping, you’ll meet them when they wake up,” you said, plastering a smile on your face.

“Oh come on, enough with the secrecy. We tried to get mom to tell us anything and even she wouldn’t budge,” he said, his voice rather whiney for a grown man, “Wouldn’t even tell us if it was a boy or a girl.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “You’ll just have to wait and see! I think Jake wanted to be here when you met them.”

“Fine!” he huffed, “I’ll be patient. They better be f--” he started, trying to censor his swear “--firetrucking cute.”

“Firetrucking?” you asked, barely trying to hold in your grin.

“Silenzio,” Gio replied, sticking his tongue out at you. He exited the room and you followed up behind, crossing Tony in the corridor.

When you emerged into the kitchen, you found Isabella already puttering about, talking to Jake in Italian as she searched through cupboards for the premium Italian coffee grounds. You always kept a small amount for Isabella who simply refused to drink ‘any of that American shit’ as she called it.

“Bellissimo! È bello vederti!” she exclaimed as soon as she spotted you, engulfing you in a bone breaking hug. Beautiful! So good to see you!, “Sembri in salute,” she added, stepping back a little so she could properly look at you. You look healthy.

“Mi sento in salute, se non si contano la privazione del sonno,” you replied, dusting off whatever remained of the duolingo course you had started, and never finished after first meeting the Seresins. I feel healthy, if you don't count the sleep deprivation.

Your attempt raised cheers, Tony and Gio enthusiastically clapping and Alessa letting out a couple of ‘Whoop whoops’ of celebration while Jake beamed at you from the other side of the room.

“Dov'è il caffè, tesoro? Non posso bere questa merda americana,” Isabella asked, getting right back to business. Where is the coffee, darling? I cannot drink this American shit. You walked around her, opening one of the cupboards she hadn’t managed to search through yet and pulled the small tin out from the back, handing it to her with a smile.

“Shh!” Alessa suddenly said, putting her index in front of her lips, “Ascoltare,” she whispered. The entire room grew quiet, listening out for whatever Alessandra had heard. Quietly, as if talking to himself, you heard Christopher’s little voice. Jake moved to get to the nursery, but he was almost immediately pushed to the side and into Giovanni Senior by Gio.

Giovanni Junior booked it to the nursery and for a second, no one else moved. Your gaze crossed Jake’s and suddenly, as if everyone else had made up their mind at the same time they all stood up and ran. Jake followed right behind, passing in front of Tony and your sisters-in-law but not quite making it to the door before Gio. Both reached for the door handle at the same time, Gio’s hand landing underneath Jake’s, the weight of which pushed the handle down and the door swung open revealing two cribs, two names painted above the beds and two babies.

“Buon Dio,” Tony said. Good God, bringing his hand to his forehead, “Ce ne sono due.” There are two.

Jake pushed past his brother so he could step into the nursery to soothe Christopher, Tony stepping in next to Gio to take his place, effectively blocking the door and any hope to see into the room for Alessa and Sophia who had resorted to standing on their tiptoes, straining their necks to catch a glimpse of the babies.

“Bontà Graziosa” Gio sighed. Graceful goodness.

“Cosa hai detto?” Alessa asked, touching Tony’s shoulder to grab his attention. What did you say?

“Gemelli? Gesù Cristo…Non fai le cose a mezze misure,” Gio said, his voice so low only Jake and Tony could hear. Twins? Jesus Christ, you don’t do things in half measures.

“Di cosa stai parlando?” Alessa asked, what are you talking about, getting more frustrated. She threw herself against her husband’s shoulder, causing him to stumble forward and her to fall though, “Gesù, Maria e Giuseppe,” Jesus, Mary and Joseph, she swore, “Sono gemelli,” They are twins, she called out to her sister-in-law.

Sophia gasped. Seeing you making your way to join them, she ran up and hugged you, squeezing the air out of your lungs.

“Hai avuto un taglio cesareo?” Did you have a c-section? she asked, looking horrified when you shook your head, “Sei più coraggioso di quanto lo sarei mai stato io,” You are braver than I would have been, she breathed. Sophia paused for a second, holding you at arms length so she could look into your eyes as she spoke, “Per favore, dimmi che hai avuto un'epidurale.” Please tell me you had an epidural.

You shook your head again, laughing at her expression of half horror and half reverence.

“Non sapevamo che avremmo avuto due gemelli. Lo abbiamo scoperto solo quando ha dato alla luce il primo,” Jake laughed. We didn’t know we were having twins. We only found out when she gave birth to the first one.

“I wouldn’t have had an epidural even if I knew I was having twins,” you said, “I had gas and air so it wasn’t completely natural,” you told Sophia.

“More natural than I would have ever wanted. I would have had morphine if I could, especially with Catalina,” she replied.

“Possiamo vedere i bambini o dobbiamo aspettare un altro mese?” Gio grumbled. Can we see them or do we have to wait another month?

“Li vedrai quando decideremo che puoi vederli. Hanno fame,” You can see them when we decide you can. They are hungry. Jake replied, raising an eyebrow at his brother. The crowd parted to let you through and he handed you Christopher after kissing his chubby cheek, still happily making noises by himself, trying to figure out everything his little voice could do. Jake walked back towards his siblings and into the corridor, closing the door behind him to give you privacy as you fed them.

“Sei svenuto?” Did you faint? Gio asked Jake as you emerged from the nursery, holding both of your babies against your chest

“I’m not you Gio, I’m not a coward,” he replied, winking at his brother.

Isabella gasped, seeing you arrive with your precious cargo, “Guarda come sono cresciuti!” See how they have grown! She exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air, crossing the distance between the two of you in two large strides. She fussed over the babies, petting their little cheeks and making cooing noises at them while they looked on with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Non dirlo, mamma. Sono minuscoli. Sono i nostri bambini piccoli,” Don't say it, mom. They are tiny. They are our little children, Jake said, flinchingat his mother’s words.

Giovanni Senior smiled, engulfing him in a side hug, “Saranno sempre dei bambini piccoli. Anche quando sono cresciuti. Anche quando hanno i loro bambini,” They will always be small children. Even when they have grown up. Even when they have their own children, he said.

“Ma cresceranno, è inevitabile. Un giorno ti svegli e sono tutti sposati, ma saranno comunque i tuoi figli,” But they will grow, it is inevitable. One day you wake up and they are all married, but they will still be your children, he continued with a sigh, tears welling up in his eyes, “Non sono pronto per oggi,” I'm not ready for today Giovanni whispered.

“Andrà tutto bene, papà. Starai bene,” Everything will be fine, dad. You'll be fine, Jake replied, turning around to properly hug his father, “Non è stato male quando tutti noi ci siamo sposati, andrà bene anche con Maria.” It wasn't bad when we all got married, it will be fine with Maria too.

Isabella shot him a look, “Ha pianto per due giorni quando ti sei sposato...Continuava a dirmi che non era pronto per far crescere il suo bambino,” she said. Jake looked at his father, mouth ajar, looking dumbfounded and amused. He cried for two days when you got married ... He wasn’t ready to see his baby grow up.

“Oh, papà! Sei un tale tenero!” Jake laughed but the blush spreading over his face betrayed how touched he truly was. Oh, dad! You are going soft!

“Va bene, basta. Basta!” Okay, that's enough. That's enough! Giovanni Senior grumbled, swatting his youngest son’s hands away from him in embarrassment, “Vediamo quei bambini. Maria sarà qui presto,” he added. Let's see those children. Maria will be here soon.

“Arriverà tra due ore! Sei solo imbarazzato” Jake replied smiling broadly, lunging away from his dad when Giovanni pretended to raise his hand at him. She will arrive in two hours! You're just embarrassed.

“Hai pianto al mio matrimonio?” Gio asked. Did you cry at my wedding?

“No,” Giovanni replied.

“Bugiardo,” Isabella laughed, “Ha pianto a tutti i tuoi matrimoni. Era molto triste vedervi crescere, ma è molto orgoglioso di ciò che siete diventati,” she said, going around to kiss all of her sons on their cheeks. Liar, he cried at all your weddings. He was very sad to see you grow up, but he is very proud of who you have become.

“Siamo entrambi molto orgogliosi,” she added. We are both very proud.

“So,” Sophia said, looking at you with eager eyes, “Who’s who and can I hold one?”

You laughed, quickly introducing the twins to the group and passing Christopher off to Sophia while you kept Charlotte to yourself. While you were having a much easier time allowing anyone other than Jake hold the babies, your panic still flared up sometimes. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, because you did, but having your babies in the arms of another felt a little too much like having someone rip a part of you away. Having Charlotte in your arms was just as much for your reassurance as it was for hers, she was the least sociable of the twins and tended to get panicky if anyone else so much as looked at her for a little too long.

After Sophia, Christopher was passed onto Tony, then Gio and then Alessa, and, after the commotion woke Luca and Agostino, your baby was passed on to the children who gently held him in their arms as they sat on the sofa, a little scared to move. Eventually, after your little boy had met the entire family, Jake took him in his arms again and Beanie breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“Look at him, so happy to be in daddy’s arms. He knows he’s safe with you, Jake,” you whispered to him, leaning against his shoulder, “He knows who you are and he loves you,” you added, kissing the sleeve of his shirt.

The doorbell rang, making you all jump. You stood up and walked to get the door, swinging it open clumsily, Charlotte still laying in your arms, swaddled in a pale pink blanket. The wind and cold had turned to rain at some point in the morning and although the sun had risen hours ago, it was still dark out, thick grey storm clouds hanging low above San Diego. Maria stood on the doorstep, soaked through the bone despite Bob’s leather coat, holding a large blue shopping bag.

You stepped aside to let her in. She stripped off her jacket and kicked off her shoes and her wet socks, shedding her woollen cardigan at the same time.

“Ugh!” she groaned, “We’re cursed. I swear we’re cursed. First the cake, then the car, then the DJ’s stupid computer and now torrential rain… Oh! And I didn’t sleep last night,” she added, “I feel like such a hot mess,” Maria said, “Did morning sickness kick your ass this much?” she asked in a whisper.

“I’m sorry, I’ll make you a ginger and lemon tea. It helps with nausea. We can say it’s to fight off a cold,” you whispered back.

“You are my favourite sister-in-law, you know that?” she said, shooting you a wink, “Is this my darling baby niece?”

Maria leaned over to kiss Charlotte, leaving a perfect print of her red lipstick on her little forehead, “See this is why I told the makeup artist to use lipstick and not lipgloss. Lipgloss bleeds on everything,” she mumbled, using her long sleeve to wipe away the mark.

You chuckled, “Relax, it’ll all be okay,” you said, rubbing her arm reassuringly.

“I can’t relax,” she sighed, “I desperately want to relax but I can’t because everything is just going wrong.”

“Maria, are you healthy?” you asked sternly. She nodded, “And is Bob healthy?” you said. She nodded again, “And is the baby healthy?” you asked. She nodded again, “Then nothing’s going wrong.”

“I just feel like we’re being punished,” she admitted, “We’ve sinned against Him.”

“Maria, I don’t think the Lord would bother exacting vengeance on something -- I’m sorry -- on something so minor. He’s blessed you with a baby and He will bless you with a happy marriage so just try and enjoy the day you’re having. I know it’s chaotic and stressful, but there are blessings to be found in the hardest days,” you said, “Isaiah 41:10-13: fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. The Lord is with you and he will stay with you for as long as you let Him.”

“You’re right,” she said, “You’re right,” she repeated, a little brighter and more enthusiastic, “Everyone is healthy, I am about to get married to the love of my life and the Lord is with me, everything is going great,” Maria smiled, “But if anything else breaks, I swear I will cry.”

“I’ll bring tissues,” you grinned, “let’s get you that tea before you actually need it to fight a cold.”

You walked into the living room, dropping Charlotte off on Jake’s lap so he could hold both of the children, and continued on your way until you got to the kitchen where you switched on the kettle and prepared a teapot.

“Who wants tea?” you called out. Four hands shot out into the air while their owners continued the conversation they were having.

As you opened the fridge, Maria made her entrance, having dropped off her bag in the corridor where it could dry off on the welcome mat without staining your hardwood floor any more than you already had. You pulled out a small chopping board and a knife.

“You’re early!” you heard Isabella shout, Maria’s answer muffled by the hug her mother had pulled her in, “You’re freezing, bellissima,” she gasped, “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll restart the fire, I think Y/n is making tea,” Jake said, standing up. You saw him hand the twins over to Sophia and Alessa and your heart wrenched a little before you forced yourself to ignore what was going on in the other room and got back to the task at hand.

You cut up the lemon, dropping it in a teapot before peeling and thinly slicing some ginger to go with it, you drowned it all in boiling water and topped it off with a healthy drizzle of honey, mixing it all by gently swirling it around. Once you were satisfied, you put it all onto a tray with cups and some biscuits and joined everyone on the sofas.

----

Once tea was done, Maria joined you in your bedroom so that you could help her into her dress. You had skipped out on tea early to take a shower and do your own hair and makeup while your children were being carefully watched by Jake and the family.

“Y/n, you look beautiful!” she exclaimed, taking in the deep emerald velvet of the dress you had chosen for the wedding. It was the first time you had dressed up since having the twins and you were feeling a little more self conscious than usual.

“Do you really think so?” you asked her.

“Absolutely, my brother isn’t going to be able to keep his hands to himself,” she said, a devious look on her face. “Thank you again for the tea, I feel much better,” she continued as she put her things down on your bed, “I was hoping no one would realise I wasn’t staying here anymore but apparently someone did some snooping.”

“Oh?” you asked, confused as to who would go wandering through your house.

“Dad said he wrote me a letter and that he went to put it in my room, but he found it empty,” she explained, a pained expression on her face.

You felt more at ease knowing that it was Giovanni, “What did you tell him?” you asked her as you took her dress bag, hanging it on the back of your bathroom door.

“I just told him Bob and I were doing what you and Jake did, where he sleeps in the guest room and I am in the master,” she answered.

“Do you think he believed you?” you questioned as you unzipped the bag for her dress.

“I’m not sure, I hope so,” she said, “Regardless, we are getting married today so it’s not like it’ll matter in,” she stopped for a minute, looking down at her phone, “Three hours.”

You let out a quiet chuckle as you freed the skirt of her dress from the bag, “Maria, this dress is beautiful,” you said, your eyes widening at the beautiful white material hanging in front of you. Maria’s dress was simply stunning. The gown was a pure, brilliant white. It had a simple strapless, sweetheart neckline, and the fitted bodice led down to a fluffy, full skirt that was every bit as princess looking as Maria was. Unlike what you were expecting, the dress was rather plain, with no beading or lace to be seen. It didn’t need it though, the snow white material was so beautiful, and with its silver underskirt, the dress was literally shimmering in the light of your bedroom.

“Thank you,” she said, coming to stand beside you, “I just hope it fits, I’m not too far along but I have a little bump forming.”

“I’m sure it’ll fit just fine,” you said with a smile, “Let’s get you in it!”

You helped Maria into the dress, only struggling for a moment with the zipper and buttons on the back before carefully pinning her veil into her gorgeous updo.

“I think you are going to kill him,” you said, your hands pressed over your mouth.

“I hope not,” Maria replied with a laugh, “I kinda need him.”

You cracked open the door to your room and peeked out into the hall before fully opening it and ushering Maria into the hall.

The two of you descended the stairs to find the rest of the family dressed up for the occasion, all except for Jake. When Maria entered the room everyone crowded around her, singing high praise at her dress and how beautiful she looked, but your husband only had eyes for you.

“Hey beautiful,” he said, coming to stand in front of you.

“Hey handsome,” you replied, “You need to get dressed.”

“On my way love, will you watch this one for me? Amanda has Christopher,” he told you as he carefully transferred Charlotte into your arms.

Amanda came highly recommended to you by your paediatrician, she was a nurse at the hospital you gave birth at who babysat small babies in her free time for some extra money. While it made you nervous to leave your precious babies home with someone else, you didn’t want to worry about them all night at the wedding and you knew that they wouldn’t be able to sleep with the noise of the music at the reception.

“Of course,” you replied immediately, smiling down at your daughter, “I hung your dress blues on the bathroom door,” you called out after him.

“Thanks love!” he shouted as he made it to the top of the stairs.

Once Jake was dressed and you were all ready to leave, not without triple checking Amanda had everyone’s numbers and knew exactly where everything was, you loaded into your Tahoe, Jake’s truck, and the rental SUV that Giovanni had gotten at the airport to drive to the church.

The drive from yours to the Immaculate Conception Church in San Diego took double what it should have. Traffic, despite the fact that it was nearing two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, seemed to have San Diego at a standstill, but when you finally made it to the church’s carpark, the only one seeming stress-free was Maria.

“It’s not like they can start without me,” she smiled, smoothing out her dress and readjusting her veil.

“How are you feeling?” Isabella asked, having fussed over Giovanni’s tie so much that she hadn’t heard her daughter speak.

Maria beamed, “Giddy. Mi sposo, mamma!” she said, adding the last bit in a whisper, as if she was telling her mother a secret. I’m getting married, mom! Isabella giggled, taking her daughter's hand in hers and kissing the knuckles.

Gio came up behind her, throwing his arm around her shoulders with the hint of a tear in his eyes, “Sì, lo sei, sorellina,” he sniffled, “E sai cosa ti rende?” he asked. Yes you are, little sister. And you know what that makes you?

“Tutti cresciuti?” Maria answered. All grown up?

“Non è più un nostro problema,” he replied, barking out a teary laugh, high fiving with Tony while Maria rolled her eyes. Not our problem anymore.

“Non essere cattivo con tua sorella il giorno del suo matrimonio” Isabella said, outraged at her eldest sons’ behaviour. Don't be mean to your sister on her wedding day.

“Mamma, si sta per sposare, non è sul letto di morte,” Gio replied, still masking his genuine emotionality with sarcasm and jokes. Mom, she’s getting married, she’s not on her deathbed.

“Mi prenderesti ancora in giro sul letto di morte,” Maria replied. You would still tease me on my deathbed. “Almeno Jacob ha la decenza di sembrare emotivo,” she grinned, pointing at Jake as he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his dress blues. At least Jacob has the decency to look emotional.

“Queste sono lacrime di tristezza per Bob,” Jake replied, soon devolving into full-on sobs. He grabbed Maria by the forearm and pulled her into a hug, “Ti amo, piccola seccatrice. Prenditi cura del mio amico,” he said against her hairline. I love you, you little nuisance. Take care of my friend.

“Everyone ready?” Father Dan asked, appearing out of his Toyota, slamming the door behind him as he climbed out, “Traffic’s a nightmare today,” he told you.

“Jacob, pull yourself together,” he sighed, sounding exasperated at the sight of a sobbing Jake. Although he sounded annoyed, you saw the sides of his mouth twitch upwards in a concealed smile. Father Dan caught your gaze and winked, “You’ll make her dress wet,” he added before turning to Maria, grabbing her delicate, manicured hands into his surprisingly calloused ones, “Maria, you look beautiful. Are you ready to become Mrs Floyd?” Daniel asked and she nodded, “Let’s get you married then.”

“Yes please,” she breathed

“Alright, Mr Seresin, you stay behind with Maria. The rest of you find your seats. I’ll get Bob and the photographer to come out for the first look” he said.

You nodded at Father Dan, putting your veil on and handing Jake a tissue before stepping into the church, curtseying at the altar and finding your seat. The Seresin side of the church was packed while Bob’s was largely empty. He’d decided not to invite his father or anyone from his paternal family, so the only people currently filling up his side were Beau, Lizzie and the kids, as well as friends from home and from the navy. To make things more equal, you and Jake bid goodbye to the Seresin clan and made your way to the Floyd pews, finding seats next to the Simpsons.

As soon as you sat down, Mass began, the sound of the Wedding March playing through the church’s organ as Bob walked down, cheeks glistening with tears, with his mother by his side. Minutes later, Maria walked down the aisle, beautiful and beaming, squeezing Giovanni’s arm reassuringly as he led her to Bob, his eyes red and bottom lip wobbling.

After a beautiful wedding mass, Father Dan pronounced the happy couple man and wife. Guests were ushered out of the church and given cones of white petals, ready for when Bob and Maria would step out. Everyone found their spots at each side of the church steps and waited.

The first few bars of ‘Die A Happy Man’ by Thomas Rhett started playing and the church doors opened again, revealing Bob and Maria, holding hands. You threw a handful of petals up in the air, signalling for everyone to do the same as the photographer stepped out to the middle to get a clear shot of the newlyweds, petals raining down like snowflakes.

----

Maria had told you three weeks ago about their ‘last minute’ wedding theme change. She had never made it a secret that she had always wanted a white Christmas themed wedding, and after her impromptu pregnancy announcement in your hospital room, Bob was even more determined to give her everything she wanted. But when she had told you about the theme, you hadn’t quite imagined it would look the way it did when you walked into the venue.

You were fairly certain that Santa’s workshop was less Christmassy than this.

At the back of the venue, a sixteen foot tall Norway spruce, decorated to perfection with red, gold and pearl coloured baubles and lit up with thousands of fairy lights, seemed to hold up the ceiling. Its foot was hidden by a pure white tree skirt, giving the impression that it had snowed inside and making the room feel magical.

Around the tree, tables had been arranged, dressed with white tablecloths, gold rimmed plates and a stunning centrepiece of candles, holly, cranberries and golden baubles. To the side of the tables, against the brick wall, Maria and Bob had arranged the bar and buffet, providing guests with an assortment of food, a hot chocolate and mulled wine section, candy apples and showing off the gorgeous wedding cake you had made, that Beau had volunteered to bring over to the wedding venue that very morning.

“Sorry,” the photographer said, tapping you on the shoulder as you looked on in awe, “The bride and groom want a few family photos in front of the tree.”

You made your way down, careful not to bump into any of the other, smaller christmas trees so as to not spray the floor with needles, choosing that path specifically to avoid talking to Mrs Wilkinson, your church’s infamous busybody. You could see her looking in your direction, already calculating a path to ambush you with the same question she always asked at church, and that you had begun to resent. Mrs Wilkingson, coming from an older generation, as was her excuse, seemed to have missed the memo that asking a young mother when she might be ready to ‘bounce back’ and ‘get her lovely, slender body back’, were entirely inappropriate questions to be asking.

The photographer positioned you to Bob’s side and Jake to Maria’s. He had stopped sobbing about halfway through the wedding ceremony, exactly two minutes before Giovanni Junior started sobbing, and, unlike Gio, his face had lost all puffiness and redness. You both beamed at the camera, feeling a little disappointed that you hadn’t taken the babies, as seeing the little suits and dresses Maria had forced the children to wear made your heart melt. You’d have to make do with Agostino and Luca, who both seemed happy enough to preen and prance in exchange of a steady stream of compliments.

“One more of the happy couple and then I will let you all sit down and eat!” The photographer said, pointing his camera at Bob and Maria as the rest of you stepped away from the tree. “Three,” he counted, “Two,” his hand moved to his lens, twisting it slightly, “Smile!” he ordered. The flash went off. The camera went down again, and Bob’s smile faltered, his eyes glued to something further in the room. You tried to spot what he had seen but, being smaller than most people present, you couldn’t see anything.

“I’ll just be a minute,” you heard him say to Maria, a tense smile on his face.

You watched him walk hastily towards the doors at the side of the ballroom. While everyone else dispersed and Maria was caught up with other guests, you noticed her eyes kept glancing towards the doors that Bob had disappeared through. A sinking feeling fell upon you when Beau followed Bob away from the party. Trying to ignore what you were feeling, you made your way to the bar, hoping that a glass of champagne might settle your mind.

It was a few minutes later, glass of champagne in hand, that all hell broke loose. Maria ran through the room, her voice calling out, “Jacob! Gio! Tony!”

All three men immediately rushed to her side as you and the rest of the guests stood shocked at her state. Her dress was ripped at the bodice, and her makeup was starting to run with the tears she had running down her cheeks. You quickly set your glass down and made your way to her as the three men took off running to the doors she had just come through.

Isabella and Nonna met you at Maria’s side where the three of you guided her out of the room and into the hallway. Isabella, though concerned for her daughter, paused at the doors as you and Nonna continued guiding Maria out of the room.

Isabella turned around to face the crowd of guests who were now gathering towards the door, “We will be back in a moment, please enjoy a few drinks!” with that, she closed the doors behind her and joined your small group at a bench in the lobby of the hotel.

“Cos'è successo tesoro?” she asked Maria as she crouched down in front of her and wiped a few tears from her face. What’s happened darling?

“Bob left, and when he didn’t come back…” Maria started, a sob breaking up her words, “Then I watched Beau go after him…” she paused again shaking her head, “There was a man in the hall, I came out of the door and he turned to swing at me, like he was going to hit me.”

Her words made your heart clench in your chest, “Did he hit you?” you asked.

“No,” Maria said quietly, “Bob stepped in front of me, he took the hit. It pushed him back, and he stepped on the hem,” she said, bringing her hands up to gesture at the rip in the seam between the bodice and skirt of her dress.

Before she could be interrupted again, she continued speaking, “Bob pushed me back inside, he told me to get the guys, I–”

At that moment, a fuming Jake came around the corner, behind him, Gio and Tony were flanking a man who had a bloody nose. Jake brought the group to a stop in the middle of the hall and his voice startled you as he directed the man to speak, “Apologise, now.”

If you had been in that man’s position, you would have done so immediately. Jake’s voice was deep and threatening, and the way that Gio and Tony were holding him, made you believe he would have bruises on his arms for days if not weeks to come.

The man stayed silent. Jake continued, “Fine, don’t apologise,” he turned to Maria, “We will be right back, just taking out the trash.”

She let out a small sniffle and your group watched as Jake led his brothers towards the rear of the hotel.

The lobby was quiet for a minute before Bob came running around the corner, his eyes widened at Maria’s state. You and Isabella took a step out of the way, watching as he came to kneel before her.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay? He didn’t touch you right?” Bob fussed, pulling Maria into a tight hug.

You, Isabella, and Nonna wandered back towards the reception hall, not wanting to intrude on their private moment. When Bob pulled back from the hug, one of his hands ghosting over Maria’s stomach, you turned to Isabella and Nonna, catching their attention.

“Do we have something to fix her dress with?” you asked quietly.

Nonna nodded, “I keep a kit in my purse dear. Bella, could you take me back inside?”

“Of course, I will reassure everyone that everything is alright and then we can fix her dress,” Isabella directed towards you before offering her arm to Nonna. You closed the door to the hall behind them once they were through and turned to find Bob holding Maria to him, his mouth was moving, but you couldn’t tell what was being said.

When Isabella reappeared with the sewing kit, the two of you made your way over to the couple. Giving Bob a tense smile, you caught Maria’s attention, “Let’s fix your dress, shall we?” you asked, gesturing for her to stand against the wall.

Bob took a step back from her and seemed to notice the exposed silk of the slip she was wearing beneath her gown. He took his place beside her, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder as you crouched down and carefully sewed the gap shut.

When you were done, you stood in front of them, “There, now let’s just…” you started, looking around the lobby. Finding a tissue box on a table a few feet away, you pulled a few from the top.

Gently, you wiped away the streaks of mascara from underneath Maria’s eyes. You felt her take a deep breath and saw the surprise on her face as you pulled the exact bottle she used earlier out from your clutch.

“What are sister-in-law’s for if not planning ahead?” you asked, a little laugh escaping you as you pulled the stick from the tube and reapplied a fresh coat of the black cream to her eyelashes.

“Thank you,” she whispered once you were done.

You gave her a smile, “Anytime,” you paused only when you heard footsteps approaching from down the hall. Turning, you saw Jake, Gio, Tony, and Beau approaching you from the back of the hotel.

You turned back to Maria and Bob, “Are you ready to go back in there?”

Maria took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bob smiled, his hand clasping with hers, “I’m ready as long as I’m with you.”

As soon as you were rejoined by Jake, you led the way back through the doors. Isabella was standing next to the DJ and as Maria and Bob walked in at the back of your group, she prompted him to announce them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the second time, can we please have a hand for Mr. and Mrs. Bob Floyd?” his voice boomed through the speakers.

Every guest was standing and cheering as they came into the room, and not two seconds later, everyone was tapping their champagne glasses so that the couple would share a kiss.

You smiled at the sight of their happiness, the moment interrupted by the bartender, “What can I getcha?” he asked.

You paused a moment before answering, “A glass of champagne please.”

Suddenly, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist beforeyour husband’s voice added, “And a whiskey, neat please.”

You turned to face Jake as the song for Bob and Maria’s first dance started to play through the room. He leaned down so that his mouth was next to your ear, “It was Bob’s dad, not too happy that he didn’t receive an invite to the wedding,” he whispered.

You nodded, letting him know that you heard what he said, “I don’t think he’ll be back,” Jake added before pulling back and beginning to sway with you to the song as you waited for your drinks.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, and by the end of the night, Jake had to carry you back to the truck because your feet hurt from dancing. You were even surprised when you came home to a quiet house, Amanda was seated on the couch, watching a show on Netflix.

“Hello you two!” she said quietly, turning the tv off, “How was the wedding?”

“Magical!” you said, the excitement from the night had not yet left you.

She gave you a smile, “That’s wonderful! Just so you know, I put them down just a little bit ago after they needed to eat again so I’d say you’re good for at least 3 hours.”

“Thank you so much Amanda,” Jake said, pulling the cash out of his wallet to pay her.

“No, thank you two. It’s not often I get to spend time with such adorable babies,” she replied with a laugh as she made her way to the door, “Well I will be on my way. Let me know when you need someone again?”

“Will do!” Jake confirmed as she made her way outside. You heard him shut and lock the door as you made your way upstairs. Jake’s heavy footsteps were not far behind you.

The two of you glanced into the nursery, content to find both your babes sleeping peacefully, before making your way into the bedroom.

“Besides Bob’s dad's wedding crashing, I had a wonderful night,” you said, spreading your arms out as you fell back on your mattress.

Jake let out a chuckle, which was much closer than you expected it to be. You opened your eyes just as his weight caused the mattress to dip. He was holding himself above you, his arms bracketing your head.

“I’m glad you had a good night,” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips.

The kiss went from gentle to passionate rather quickly, and suddenly, you and Jake were wrapped up in one another for the first time in the long weeks since your bundles of joy had been born.

---

Even though the weathermen of your local radio station had predicted ‘biblical downpours’ for the Sunday that followed Bob and Maria’s wedding, when you came out of the house with the babies dressed to the nines for their baptisms, the sun was out in full force, beating down so hard that you wished you had brought a hat and forgotten your coat.

The church was full when you arrived, as the normal congregation had been joined by your guests, all ready to attend your babies’ baptisms. You and Jake looked on with pride as Bob and Maria took their place as godparents, promising to help guide your children towards a faithful life and helping them understand what it meant to be a Christian, beaming at each other as they did so, Maria’s hand resting on her stomach for a second as she said the words.

After mass, your family joined you at your house, everyone enjoying the garden and sun room while the weather lasted, drinking champagne and eating the sandwiches and finger foods the caterers had brought over. Jake had turned on some music, mainly as a way to keep blanks in conversations less noticeable but partly because Peter Simpson had asked him and Bob for a word and didn’t want to be heard.

You had noticed them pulling up chairs at the back of the garden, talking quietly, slightly hunched over the firepit while Jake held Charlotte who seemed to desperately want to touch the pretty flames. You chuckled at the way her little hands reached down, trying to grab at the fire while Jake and Bob both battled to keep her hands to herself, their serious conversations occasionally interrupted with “Would you stop that,” and “You’ll hurt yourself,” and even an exasperated “You’ve got an arsonist on your hands, Jacob,” from Bob. Peter seemed to be enjoying these interruptions immensely, the grin he had plastered on his face never leaving.

You approached hesitantly, carrying three flutes of champagne in your hands, and a sleeping Christopher strapped to your chest. Peter noticed and nodded, silently giving you the go-ahead to approach. You handed each man a drink and perched yourself on Jake’s armrest.

“Discussing state secrets?” you asked.

“Just college plans,” Peter replied, “I wanted their advice.”

“On degree or specific school? Because you know Jake is a die hard UT fan, right?” you asked him.

“Neither, actually,” Peter hesitated, “And I heard UT was terrible if you want to do an English degree, anyway. Sorry Jake.”

“That’s just plain wrong,” Jake scoffed.

Peter raised an eyebrow at him before refuting his claim, “I mean their reviews online --”

“Okay so maybe the english department is bad, but you said you weren’t sure about doing that anyway. Their political science faculty is very good and --” Jake started.

“You did political sciences?” Bob interrupted.

“Yessir,” Jake agreed with a smirk, “Not as stupid as I look, am I?” he laughed.

“Okay so, you meet your first girlfriend at a D&D campaign, then you tell me you’re the designated IT technician and computer builder for the family, and now I learn you did a pol sci degree?” Bob asked with an incredulous smile.

“And I was on the debate team,” Jake winked.

“Jake Seresin--” Bob started but stopped. He turned to you, “Y/n, darling, I don’t know how to tell you this but… You married a nerd,” he said, grabbing both of your hands in his and adding the last bit in a whisper.

“I know I did,” you replied, “You want to know what I caught him watching, no, practically participating in last night?” you asked the boys while Jake tried to hide his head behind Charlotte in mock embarrassment, “I caught him answering all the questions on University Challenge, you know, that british college quiz show?”

“Please tell me he got some wrong,” Bob pleaded.

“None,” you answered.

Both boys gasped, pretending to be horrified before Bob spoke up, “Jacob, you need a new callsign. What should it be, Peter?”

“Err,” Peter panicked, “Sudoku?”

“Bob, you’re bleeding off on him,” Jake said, “Look at that! Absolutely terrible!”

“Shut up,” Bob retorted.

“Hey, language!” you told him, frowning at him while trying to hold in your laughter as he opened his mouth in protest and waved his arms about, mostly pointing at Charlotte, trying to silently convey that she was too young to understand anything anyway.

“How about LBJ?” Bob offered, “Jake ‘LBJ’ Seresin… Sounds decent! And it fits, he was a politician, an ex-debate teacher and he was from Texas.”

“Not bad, Bobby boy,” Jake nodded.

“So if you’re LBJ and he’s Bob, what’s my callsign?” Peter asked, grinning widely.

“You know callsigns aren’t supposed to be flattering, right?” you smiled, “They have to come from embarrassing stories or things like that… You know, like that time you lost some of your hair when you used Lizzie’s shaving cream as shampoo, --” you said, sending both Jake and Bob in hysterics.

“Peter ‘Nair’ Simpson,” Bob laughed.

“-- or that time we went swimming at a lake and you got chased by geese,” you continued.

“I still have that scar, by the way,” Peter added, “It bit my butt so hard Dad had to take me to get stitches!”

“It’s a shame the callsign Goose is already taken,” Jake laughed, wiping tears out of the corner of his eye.

“How’d you get your callsign then, Dove?” Peter asked. You rolled your eyes, ready to ignore the questions, but both Bob and Jake turned towards you.

“Yes, baby, how did you get your callsign?” Jake insisted.

“I slipped in the showers at the academy after dropping my bar of Dove branded soap. I broke my wrist trying to catch myself,” you replied. The boys tried to keep their laughter in, aware that they shouldn’t find your injury amusing, but the image of it soon had them cackling.

You huffed out a sigh before turning on Jake, “Alright then Hangman, how did you get yours?”

“I leave people out to dry, honey,” Jake shrugged, “Just so detached, that’s how I am, you know,” he added, concealing a smile.

You swatted his arm, “Oh come on!”

“I played a prank on some kid on our like, second week at the academy. We duck taped him to a wall at a pool party…” Jake started, trailing off with a smirk on his face.

“Hey, I thought they were supposed to be embarrassing stories!” Peter exclaimed, looking disappointed.

“They are, Jake’s a liar,” Bob retorted, a sly smile on his face, “I heard of that prank, and weirdly enough, I remember the name of the duck tape kid… Something like J--” Bob started, Jake’s hand quickly coming to cover his mouth and muffle his words.

“Oh my God, you got duck taped to a wall?!” Peter exclaimed, “Why?!”

“I don’t remember,” Jake groaned, “I fell asleep on a deck chair, three seconds later and I’m duck taped to a wall, three feet up in the air. I don’t even know how they did it… But I’ll tell you what,” he said, pointing a finger at Peter, “Removing the duck tape was the single most painful experience in my life. I was shirtless, it was very much like that scene in The Forty Year Old Virgin.”

“Fairly certain that’s the reason I can’t grow much chest hair,” he added in a grumble which made everyone around the firepit laugh, even Christopher and Charlotte who joined in, looking slightly more alarmed than amused.

“So, how did dad get his callsign?” Peter asked.

“Hey dad!” Bob shouted, catching Beau’s attention, waving him closer, “Pee-nut wants to know how you got your callsign,” he explained.

“Nope,” Cyclone said, turning on his heels.

“Oh come on, dad! You’re no fun. We’ve all shared,” you said, egging him on, “It’s your turn now.”

“If anyone -- especially Maverick -- hears anything about it, and I mean anything, I will --” Beau hesitated, trying to come up with something, “ground you two for life,” he said, pointing at Bob and Jake, whose smiles only grew, “And you, young man, I will show any and all future girlfriends the special photo album I have made of ALL the embarrassing pictures I took of you as a child. And might I remind you that until you hit twenty one, you still count as a child, so those pictures of you in Y/n’s wedding dress? She’ll see those too…”

Peter had tried on your wedding dress one day when you had taken Lizzie to one of your bridal appointments. He had finished school early, and bored out of his mind, he had decided to join you. You had been standing on heeled shoes for the entire day, blisters had formed, making standing any longer ever so painful. Peter had seen your struggle, and seeing as he was about the right height anyway, he had put on the dress and played model while the bridal assistants adjusted the size of the skirt. You didn’t quite remember when or where the blonde wig had been found, but when Beau went to pick all three of you up, he had found his son dressed to the nines as a beautiful bride. Between fits of hysterical laughing, he had managed to take a picture.

“Pinky promise,” Peter swore, smiling from ear to ear.

“Fine,” Cyclone said, “You know the Cyclone roller coaster in Coney Island?” he asked, pausing until everyone had nodded, “I made the mistake of going to an all-you-can-eat-buffet beforehand… I’ll leave it at that…”

“Oh!” Peter exclaimed, “You barfed?!”

“Scream louder, would you?” Beau asked sarcastically.

“You know, I don’t know if I can keep quiet about this…” you said, “I mean it’s a hilarious story, and you didn’t really threaten me with anything so I guess I’m -- MAVERICK” you called, Beau lunged forward, covering your mouth with his hand, careful not to hit Christopher in the process.

“Shit stirrer,” he whispered. With his hand still keeping you from talking, Beau turned to the boys, “What got started on callsigns anyway?”

“I’m thinking of joining the navy,” Peter said, “I’m not sure what I want to do in college for sure, but I want to apply for UC San Diego. Hopefully I get in. Otherwise maybe Cal State, or worse come to worse, I can apply for John Paul the Great Catholic University, if I decide to do science.”

“That’s --” Beau said, “That’s great, Pete…How come this is the first I’m hearing about it?” he added, letting go of you, wiping his hand on his trouser leg.

“I just wanted to check with Jake and Bob, see if they think it’s a good idea, considering I’ve applied to replace Bob as youth minister…”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, touching Bob’s shoulder lightly.

He smiled, “No, I’m staying. I’m just taking over Jake’s duties. I’m keeping the teens though, I don’t really know what to do with little kids,...”

“Hey, it’s good practice,” Beau said.

The blood drained from Bob’s face as he looked at you, a horrified expression on his face; You tried to stay neutral so as to not attract too much attention and make Beau question what other meaning his words could have, “Sorry?” Bob asked.

“Didn’t Y/n say you were on babysitting duty for like, a year?” he asked.

“Right! Yes! I’m sorry, I completely forgot,” Bob chuckled nervously.

“I won’t let you,” Beau winked, “Because any evening where you are babysitting is an evening I am not babysitting,” he chuckled, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandkids -- Gosh, I feel old -- I love my grandkids, but I forgot how fragiles babies are, and I don’t think I have it in me anymore,” he said, shaking his head, “I’ll gladly take over when they’re older though.”

“Like how old?” Bob asked, “Old enough to drive?!”

“Yeah,” Beau replied, “That sounds good. Good luck till then,” he added, clapping Bob on the back and leaving to find Lizzie again.

Peter watched him walk off, “You know, he’s usually more emotional when I talk about college…” he said.

“I saw a tear,” Bob said, “Worry not, Peter Pan, worry not. He’s still an old sap.”

“Hey, you didn’t mind him being a sap when he told Captain Floyd to never touch, look or breathe near his son again if he wanted to stay alive…” Jake grinned.

“I never said I minded it,” Bob beamed, leaning back against his chair, “I like it, actually,” he added, a deep crimson blush covering his cheeks.

----

Rooster walked through the sunroom of the house, two beers in his hands, looking for Annie. They had barely been able to catch a moment together since she had landed three days ago, largely because Admiral Simpson watched their interactions like a hawk, and partially since Annie felt guilty about missing the wedding that she had tried to spend as much time with the newlyweds to make up for it.

She had been looking forward to the wedding since the day Bob proposed, Rooster knew, but an impromptu snow storm grounded the planes for the foreseeable future. Going by train would have just as much time but the Admiral had vetoed the choice as soon as he heard the words ‘greyhound bus’ which Rooster privately agreed with. In the end, Annie and Audrey had made the drive in Audrey’s uncomfortable, baby blue Cruise and arrived, exhausted and aching after thirty-one hours of highways.

He found her in the kitchen, puttering about the cupboards to plate up some brownies and cupcakes, wearing a lovely white cotton dress that reached her knees. She looked wonderful, she always did, but seeing her like this made Rooster feel a little funny. Somehow, it felt a little too domestic.

“Got you a present,” he said as soon as she spotted him, raising the hand that held the beers up in the air so she could see it.

“Just what I needed, thanks Brad,” she sighed, brushing a lonely strand of her short blonde bob away from her face, “I swear I emptied a whole can of hairspray on it this morning and it’s still loose,” she added, the hair falling in front of her face again, “I guess this is going to be it, then.”

“You look nice,” Rooster replied, brushing the strand away himself. By miracle, it stayed put. Annie beamed at him, taking the beer from his hand and taking a large swig.

“Could you help me?” she asked, looking up at him from the task of cutting brownies into perfect squares.

Bradley smiled, placing the beers down on the counter, he came up behind her, pulling her back to his front in a hug, “Of course, what do you need?”

“Could you reach the platter for the cupcakes?” she directed, using the knife in her hand to gesture to the cabinet to her right, “It’s too high up for me to reach.”

Brad quickly removed his hands from her hips, holding them up at his sides, “Yes ma’am!” he said, imitating how he would respond to his CO.

Annie let out a peal of laughter as she cut the brownies. Once Bradley had brought down the platter, he began filling it with cupcakes. The silence they had been standing in was starting to turn awkward and he wasn’t sure what to do other than break it.

Before he could, Annie let out a huff before speaking, “You know my friend, Chloe?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Bradley said, his attention still focused on the cupcakes, “What about her?”

“Well you remember I told you about her boyfriend, the one who works in Texas?” she continued, now placing the brownies on a plate.

“Yes, I remember,” Brad replied, his brow raising at where this conversation could be going.

“She called me the other day, just to chat,” Annie continued, “Said she was moving to Texas. That she needed to get out of Indiana for once in her life, be by the man she loves, all that…”

Bradley almost dropped a cupcake. He didn’t quite know what to say to that. Turning around slowly, he was met with Annie’s back, her hands were clenched tightly on the edge of the counter, and every muscle in her body looked stiff, like she was waiting for something.

“That sounds…nice,” he said, his brain slow to find the right words to her story.

“It does, doesn’t it?” she asked, finally spinning to face him, her eyes bright with hope.

Bradley’s heart dropped, he couldn’t give Annie the life she wanted. Not with the risks his job provided. Suddenly, an image of his mother and her grief flashed across his mind. There were two days a year he saw Carole Bradshaw cry, he wasn’t sure he could, in good conscience, do that to Annie.

Realising that what she asked wasn’t rhetorical, Bradley felt his mouth open, then close, then open again, the words he spoke sounded strangled, even to him, “Yeah, I’m happy for them.”

Not daring to watch the hope leave her eyes, he turned back around, his focus now back on the cupcakes she had directed him towards earlier. He heard a sharp inhale behind him before Annie’s quiet voice caused him to stiffen, “Is there something wrong with me?” she asked.

Bradley didn’t need to turn around to see her lip quivering, he could hear it in her voice. He turned around anyway, his heart clenching when he saw her. There were tears welled up in her eyes and her chin was dimpled, like she was trying to hold back her tears.

“No, baby, there’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, trying to diffuse the situation, “Why would you even think that?”

“Well,” she said, her voice cracking on the word, “You say you love me, but you are content to be over two thousand miles away from me, so there must be something wrong with me.”

Bradley took a step towards her, but Annie immediately stepped back, the only thing keeping her from retreating further was the counter that was now dug into her lower back, “No,” he said again, his voice firm, “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

She let out a humourless laugh, “I suppose there is someone else then? Someone skinnier? Prettier? More bubbly?”

Before Bradley had been confused, but now he was angry, “There is no one else. Why would you even think that?”

“It’s not a hard conclusion to come to, Rooster,” she said, her voice harder than before, her tears still threatening to swallow her up.

“Honey, I’m yours,” he said, his voice raising slightly, “You have had me wrapped around your finger since the day we met, there isn’t anyone else, there never could be!”

“Then why? Why do you string me along with promises of the future? Why do you always choose to leave them empty?” she asked, her own voice raising to match his level.

“Because I can’t do this now, it’s not the right time,” he exclaimed, turning away from her and running his hands over his face, “It's not the right time,” he repeated.

“Not the right time for what? You to finally commit to something other than your truck?” she asked, pointing the knife she still held at his back.

Bradley turned around, pointing a finger at her, “It’s more than that, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Why don’t you try me then?” she asked, her eyes flaring with the fiery passion he knew and loved, it hurt to see it turned against him.

“I had to see my mother, for years, mourn the loss of my father. Every birthday, every holiday, every anniversary. She loved him so much, she never even dared to look at another man, I can’t-” he exclaimed, startled when her voice cut through his.

“Don’t you stand there and talk to me about how I wouldn’t understand. My father died in a crash too, and not only did I have to watch my mother mourn, I had to watch her abandon our family,” Annie had tears running down her cheeks, and her voice was thick with emotion, “Abandon me, every day since he died. At least you had your mother’s love, and Maverick, that man loves you like only a father could. Beau came around when he was able and I love him to bits, but he was focused on Y/n, making sure my mother’s grief didn’t kill her.”

Bradley felt a heaving breath leave him. He opened and closed his mouth, feeling like a gaping fish, unable to draw a breath. Annie’s own childhood wasn’t much different from his, if anything, it was worse. He didn’t know what to say, so he did what he knew best, he ran.

As he made to slam the front door behind him, he heard a gut wrenching sob. Bradley was wracked with guilt as he threw himself in the Bronco and shifted it into first, tearing off the side of the street and out of the neighbourhood.

----

Rooster sat on the pew and laced his fingers together on his knees, wondering if he was even doing this correctly. He remembered pieces of the Our Father but he was fairly sure they were all in the wrong order and some of the bits he heard Bob pray before were different from what his father had once prayed with him, but he figured the Lord probably wouldn't mind too much.

"Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven," Rooster muttered, confident about the first few lines.

"Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. Give us today our daily bread -- No, no. Is this right? Does it even matter?" He asked. Silence reigned in the church, his whispers magnified as they echoes through the empty building, "Fuck, do You even care? I've shat on You for thirty years now, if you care about how I say the Our Father, if this is the line you draw, then you have your priorities wrong, man -- God. Sorry," he stuttered out.

"Err, I don't -- how does this work? Do I just talk?" He asked, "Because I'll be honest this feels fucking weird. I'm just --"

"Perhaps you would like some help?" Someone asked, snapping him out of his reverie. He’d been so concentrated on staring at the ceiling, that he hadn’t noticed that the church was no longer empty. The voice belonged to a small, chubby woman with a straight black bob, and a kindly smile. She walked up to him with long, calm strides, her feet hitting the bottom of her black dress with every step.

"I -- err -- I'm not sure what I'm doing," Bradley admitted.

"Is this your first time?" She asked, a thick accent coming through her voice. It sounded unmistakably British.

"First time in thirty years, I think," he replied.

"Out of practice then," she said with a smile,

"I don't know if I believe, to be honest," Rooster replied, his eyes finding a place on his shoes.

"Well, dear, I think you do. I don’t usually find non-believers praying in my church,” she replied.

Rooster paused for a second, “Fair…”

“My name is Dawn,” she said, sticking her hand out for him to shake, “Nice to meet you.”

“Bradley,” he said.

“Well, Bradley, if you need any help. You can find me in the vicarage,” she said, turning on her heels, “I’ll have you know I make a very good cup of tea. And I’m a very good listener,” she added.

Bradley smiled, endeared by the forwardness of the priest and he stood, following right behind her.

“So,” she said, once she had led him out of the church and into the vicarage, a tiny house right off the side of the church. What it lacked in size it made up for in personal effects. The entire house was crammed full. From floorboard to ceiling, Rooster could see books, knicknacks, porcelain dishes and picture frames. Dawn made her way through everything to reach the only tidy room in the house.

The kitchen was impeccable, the counters clean and tidy, and when she searched through cupboards for two cups, Rooster could see that the cupboards were similarly organised. All in all, the kitchen was fairly minimalist. Rooster liked where her priorities lay. She flicked the kettle on and pulled a large aluminium box from the top of the fridge.

“What’s bothering you then, love?” she asked, shaking the box. It rattled with something heavy. Dawn pried the top open. She looked inside, seeming pleased with the contents and overturned it onto a plate, sending shortbread cascading onto the table, “Oops, I am so clumsy sometimes,” she laughed, “My mum used to say I’d fare better in life if I slowed down a bit, I reckon she’s right but life would be a whole lot less fun, wouldn’t it?”

Bradley just nodded, a small chuckle escaping him.

“What do you do in life, Bradley? How about we start with that?” she said.

“I’m a naval aviator,” he replied.

“Oh!” she giggled, “You agree with my opinion on slowing down then!”

Bradley smiled. There was something about Dawn he liked, she seemed motherly and welcoming and he felt like he could tell her anything.

“I’m having trouble with something,” he said.

“I’m listening,” she replied, getting up as the kettle clicked, “But before you start, should we have tea in the Noah’s ark teapot, or the Holy Bible teapot?” she asked, holding up the two choices, “We’re having Earl grey, if it helps?” she adds.

“Holy Bible, I think,” Rooster replied, having never been so confused in his life. He watched her pour the water into it and carry it gingerly over to the table, placing it down in front of him. In all fairness, it was a very nice teapot. It depicted two pages out of an ancient illustrated Bible, separated in the middle by a red bookmark. Acting as the lid was a tiny porcelain black cat, peacefully snoozing.

“You were saying?” Dawn asked, now giving him his full attention, her hands crossed in front of her.

“I’m having trouble with something,” he tried again. He tried to figure out how to explain it to her, but the right words wouldn’t come out. Starting from the beginning would take ages and he didn’t want to bother her with the details.

“Yes. I can see that,” she replied.

“It’s hard to explain,” he said, trying to defend himself.

“Yes, so is the word of Jesus Christ and I do it every week, so get on with it boy!” she said, her words were harsh but she had spoken in such a voice that it sounded encouraging.

“I lost my dad when I was four. He was a naval aviator like me, only he was a weapons systems’ officer -- which means he sat at the back -- anyway, there was a training exercise and he died on the spot,” Rooster said. While the words weren’t exactly the ones he had wanted to use, now that he had started talking he couldn’t stop and soon enough, he had explained everything from his father’s death, to his mother’s, to Maverick and to the dagger squad. The only thing he hadn’t explained was Annie, and he knew Dawn could feel it.

“I’m sorry you have to live with that, I can tell it weighs heavy on you. That’s not why you’re here, though, is it?” she asked.

Rooster squirmed under her gaze. He felt a little like a child at the principal’s office, regardless of how nice Dawn actually was, “I’m having trouble with my girl. She’s catholic, I’m…whatever I am,” he said

“Is she serious about it?” Dawn asked, Rooster raised an eyebrow in confusion, “I think people take God too seriously sometimes.”

“Now I don’t mean that you shouldn’t take God seriously, I mean, and this is coming from a vicar, believe me, I can take God seriously,” she laughed, “I just mean that I think the Lord likes a laugh,” she explained, pronouncing ‘laugh’ like ‘laff’, “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have invented jokes and he wouldn’t have bestowed english sitcoms upon this green earth. No, what I mean is you know, is she --,” Dawn mimed a frown, “-- about it?”

“No,” Rooster grinned, slowly getting used to Dawn’s strange personality, “She’s fun.”

“Oh, dearie, if fun’s the only thing you have to describe her then I can believe you’re having issues with your girl,” she said with a frown.

“I’m just answering your question!” Rooster defended himself, “Annie’s kind, she’s caring, she’s bubbly, she’s funny, she’s smart, she’s --”

“Catholic?” Dawn volunteered, seeing him struggle.

Rooster nodded, “It feels like she wants me to be that too,” he said, “We had an argument and she unloaded on me. I like her, I really like her, but I don’t know if I can be the kind of guy she wants me to be.”

“Her sister’s married a friend, they have this great life together and it feels like Annie wants the same. Honestly I wish I could give it to her, but I can’t. I don’t believe, I don’t want to do the cute church dates and I don’t want to centre my life around someone I’m not sure I believe in,” Bradley said, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Then don’t,” Dawn said, “Well, if only they were all this easy…”

“Wait, what?” Rooster asked, feeling ever so confused, “Aren’t you supposed to try and convince me? To, whatsitcalled, ‘evangelise’ me?”

“Do you want me to?” she asked, “Despite what people think, I am actually quite busy, and I’d rather not waste my time trying to convince someone who will not be convinced. Don’t get me wrong, I love to ‘evangelise’, as you say, but it’s almost time for my kids to come home from school, and I have to get dinner started.”

“I’m so confused,” Rooster admitted.

Dawn pursed her lips, “Look Bradley, obviously this girl means a lot to you, but if she wants to change who you are then she’s not right for you. Even if she thinks she’s doing the right thing by asking you to bring the Lord into your life. The Lord wants believers, yes, but He does not want people to pretend to believe, Bradley. And I doubt she wants to wake up one day after fifty years of marriage and three kids to find that you only ever pretended to believe. I’m sure she’s nice, and I’m sure she thinks you need to have a faith, but as much as I would like to see you in my church every Sunday, pretending to love the Lord is as much of a betrayal to the Lord as it would be to the friends and family you’d make in church.”

“She didn’t --” Bradley started.

“What did she say?”

“She talked about her best friend. How she is moving to Texas, to be with her boyfriend,” Bradley started, and he found that he couldn’t stop, the words just kept coming, “I didn’t know what to say so I said that was good for them. Then she asked if there was something wrong with her, or if I was seeing someone else. When I tried to tell her why…why I can’t give her what she wants, she reminded me that we aren’t that different. We both grew up in broken homes and…I don’t know…that I’m not the only one who’s ever lost someone.”

“It doesn’t sound like she wants you to be faithful, it sounds like she wants commitment,” Dawn smiled, “It sounds like you put the Lord in there. It’s been on your mind a lot, hasn’t it?”

“I guess,” Rooster agreed, “I spoke to a friend of mine months ago. He really let me hear it and I guess I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

“About believing?”

“No, about how the Lord didn’t make mistakes but people did, and that if my dad died it was because of a human mistake. He said I shouldn’t be looking to make the Lord pay for my loss, said I should work through it some other way,” he explained, “He made a point, I guess. He asked if my dad was a Christian, and if he’d be blaming God if he was in my spot…”

Dawn paused for a moment, considering what he said, before asking, “Would he?”

“Don’t know, it’s not like I can ask, is it?” Bradley asked, his hands coming out to the sides in frustration.

“Well, why not?” Dawn shrugged.

“Right,” Rooster scoffed, “Let me just bust out my ouija board,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm, “Hey Dad, hope heaven’s good if you’re there, are you pissed at the Almighty for killing you and making your kid an orphan?” he added, pretending to pick up a phone and placing it next to his ear.

Dawn shrugged, “Well, what’s the worst that can happen? I mean you said it yourself, you’re not sure you believe in all of that, so worst case scenario, you don’t get an answer.”

Bradley remained silent a moment longer before lamely adding, “I mean, I guess…”

“Best case scenario…” she trailed off.

“It doesn’t solve my problem though,” he said.

“Bradley, I can do a lot of things, but I cannot help your allergy to commitment,” she smiled.

“I’m not --” Bradley started “I’m not allergic! It’s just that, in my line of work --”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there. First off, you like her, she likes you, you’re both adults so work it out. Second off, you can break it off with her if you’re so keen on not committing for the sake of your job, but it looks like she doesn’t mind the risks,” Dawn said in a no nonsense tone.

“It’s not that she doesn’t mind, it’s that I can’t--” Bradley started, trying to defend his position.

Dawn interrupted him, her voice raised only slightly, “This isn’t just your choice Bradley! Let her have a say in what you do! If she accepts your reasons, your fears, and you still like her, then time to man up and commit, boy!”

“And if she doesn’t?” he asked, his heart sinking at the thought.

“Oh honey,” Dawn said, suddenly looking sad, “You’re not scared of commitment, you’re scared of abandonment. Nothing I can do about that, I’m afraid. I often think that’s the saddest part of humanity. We live, we love and then we die, that’s what happens and there’s nothing we can do to stop it, no matter how much we try, even pushing people away won’t work. We’re social animals, Bradley, we need contact and attachment,” she continued, placing one hand on top of Rooster’s, “And we need it from people, otherwise we get sad and miserable and I’d really rather you didn’t become the kind of person who cries when their roomba breaks,” Dawn winked, eliciting a chuckle from the man in front of her.

“I guess you’re right. I can’t keep closing the door on people who want in on my life,” he sighed. A key turned in a lock and the front door flew open. The sounds of rowdy kids and an exhausted man approached the kitchen, shooting a look at the doorway, Dawn removed her hand from Bradley’s and leaned back in her chair.

“Yes. Now go home, pray to your dad and come back to tell me about the results,” she said, waving her hands to shoo him out of the house. Rooster stood up and thanked her for the tea before making his way back to the front door, crossing two ginger haired girls and a small man with an impressive moustache.

Once the cool wind hit his face, Bradley felt like he woke up from a perplexing dream, but somehow he had come out knowing exactly what he needed to do. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw he had gotten a text.

Annie: Going back to Indiana. Have fun in San Diego.

Rooster’s heart dropped in his chest. He knew he’d hurt her, but he didn’t think it would make her leave early. Annie had been telling him how excited she was to see everyone and finally meet her niece and nephew for weeks now, she’d even joked about permanently moving to California with Audrey a few times. The thought that he had done enough damage to make her leave early truly broke his heart. He pressed on her name. It rang five times before she picked up.

“We need to talk. Can I come see you? We can have coffee,” Bradley asked as soon as she picked up, checking his watch to see if he had enough time.

“Bradley, I’m at the airport. I’m waiting for my flight home,” she replied. Behind her, he heard a computerised voice announce boarding times and gate numbers for another flight.

“I know, I can make it in time for boarding if I start now, can I meet you?” he insisted, getting in the Bronco and prepping the key in case she said yes. He wasn’t proud of how he had behaved with her and she had every right to refuse to see him, but he really hoped he hadn’t messed this up. Annie was a wonderful girl, and he truly liked her. He didn’t want her to break up with him because he couldn’t commit, something he had often reproached Jake, but now, Bradley wondered if he hadn’t been projecting.

“I’m sure we can talk over the phone,” she snapped.

Rooster turned the key, feeling a little victorious. Although it hadn’t been a ‘yes’, the fact that she hadn’t outright refused him meant there was still a chance for him to make things right.

“I thought you wanted commitment?” he asked.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you at Starbucks, don’t make me late,” Annie replied, trying to sound like she was still mad at him but Rooster could hear a hint of excitement in her voice.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he assured her, hanging up the call with a smile as he backed out of the church parking lot and down the street, letting gravel fly underneath the wheels of his truck.

#fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #fanfiction #original fic #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman top gun

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eddiemunson1sstuff · 2 years

Text

I never said pay with cash Eddie munson x fem reader.

Minors dni smut fluff just general word porn swearing unprotected p in v King of consent. Reader is dustin's sister 1.9k wc.

It was fair to say that when your brother started high school and made friends with the school outcasts you were confused. Sure Dustin was nerdy but Eddie munson and his club took it to a whole new meaning. At first you found him highly annoying, like how he would just sort of glare at you when you sat with Dustin at their table. As though you were an outsider of their own private jokes. Still as time passed you could say you even became friends with him, you were especially thankful that he had taken Dustin under his wing he even picked you both up and dropped you home. " Hey don't forget I'm sleeping at Mike's tonight" Dustin shouted over to you. You knod your head in acknowledgement knowing full well you did indeed forget. With Dustin at Mike's for the night that meant it would be just you and Eddie for the ride home. In the past you would of dreaded it, having to make conversation with someone you had virtually nothing in common with, but something has changed in you recently. You find your eyes lingering on him a little longer than you had before, the feelings of butterflies in your stomach whenever you heard his voice. At first you tried to deny it to yourself but there was no denying now. You had developed a crush on the guy commonly known as "the freak. You didn't even see it coming it kind of Blindsighted you.

The afternoon period dragged for what felt like forever, when the final bell went you had to remind yourself to walk normally and not skip to the parking lot. Eddie was leaning against his van smoking as he usually did " so no mini Henderson today looks like its just us m'lady" not trusting your voice you settled with a nod hoping it didn't look to eager. He slid into the drivers seat and started rummaging through his tapes. Satisfied he found the right one he put it in and cranked up the volume. You found yourself tapping along, noticing out of the corner of your eye that he kept stealing glances. "you like it?" The question shook you out of your zone. Feeling rude to just nod again you answer him. "yeah it's really good who is it?" "it's my band, if you think that's good you should come see us play at the hideout sometime". Act cool you tell yourself he probably asks anyone who shows an interest to his music to watch him. You settle for a smile "sure I'd love to if I'm not busy that is". What you really wanted to say would make you seem desperate. All to soon you pulled up on your driveway, "would you like to come in?" he raises an eyebrow and you immediately feel stupid, "for a drink I mean it's pretty hot today". Whether you just made yourself look a fool or not he seemed happy as he got out of the van.

Eddie slumps down on your sofa as you go to fetch you both some drinks. As you pass him his glass your fingers brush against his cold rings you immediately feel your face flushing and hope it isn't as red as it feels. "sorry" you stutter. He looks at you in amusement " I don't bite you know". There's no way your face isn't giving anything away now as you mentally chastise yourself. This is the same guy who has been invading your dreams why can't you seem to for a coherent sentence around him? You sit in a awkward silence for what seems like eternity suddenly you wished Dustin was here things were never this quiet when he was around. Eddies voice finally breaks the silence " so I'm going to need to cash in for the lifts" you open your mouth unsure how to answer that. Finally your brain decided it was time to work. " I haven't got any money, I'll sort it when I get some is that OK? He looks at you with a smirk and a wide look in his beautiful eyes." I didn't specifically ask for money" his reply momentarily rendered you unabld to speak. " Just what exactly are you asking for"? You ask incredulously. "c'mon I've seen the way you can't keep your eyes off of me you must have noticed I can't peel mine from you either, it's just a bit of quid pro quo". You don't know whether to feel angry about what he was asking or ecstatic that he's just confirmed some kind of feelings for you too. You settle to just go with it, see where it goes surely you've dreamt worse. "so what exactly is it you want then munson"?

His gaze fell to your chest as a devilish smile formed " well I think we can start with your tits". You turn to leave the room, he calls after you asking where you're going. "well I'm not going to get them out in here where someone can walk in" you answer. Quick as a flash he's on your heels as you lead him to your bedroom. You barely have time to sit down as he comes flopping down beside you. He looks at you hungrily waiting as you take your top off thankful that you had on one of your prettier bras. Your hands are shaking as you try to undo the clasp, "allow me" his cool hands brush your back sending a wave through your body. In one motion he has your bra off leaving it dangling from his fingers. He obviously had more experience than you and that suddenly made you feel a little self conscious. His eyes never leave yours as he asks if he can touch them. You nod your head in agreement, "I'm going to need a audible answer here" "yes please touch me" you manage barely above a whisper never wanting something more. His hands are soft as he gently caresses your right breast you gasp as he brushes over your nipple causing it to harder so easily. "you like that don't you" mmm is all you can manage as he takes your swollen bud between his thumb and index finger squeezing and rubbing it in just the right way to produce a wetness in your panties. You can't help but think how much better the real thing is compared to your late night fantasies when your pulled back to reality by his warm mouth biting your chest. The sting momentarily shocked you but his tongue soon took the edge off of it pulling a loud moan from your lips. " you like it when I mark you and make you mine?" he asks mouth never leaving your bruiser skin so you just make out what he said. Another moan is all you manage to get out as you feel him smile against you. His fingers trail down your stomach past your naval as you feel a wave rush to your pussy. His hands abruptly stop over your skirt, you groan in wanting frustration. "tell me what you want me to do" you look him in the eyes as if you could telepathically tell him. "oh no I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, I want to hear you tell me what you want me to do" you whine like a child and that just makes you feel even more embarrassed, "fuck Eds I want you to make me feel good" his eyes gleam "see that wasn't so difficult was it?". No you agreed feeling really inexperienced that you struggled to say what you wanted. He lifts your skirt up as his fingers slides over your folds over your pants. "shit your so wet for me aren't you princess?" he peels your sodden pants off and gazes at you in all your naked glory. You feel his bulge press against you through his jeans knowing just from that he's sizeable. His finger finds your entrance as he slowly inserts it. His rings feel so good against your hot core. Just as you adjust to one finger he adds in a second all while his thumb expertly started to rub your clit. It was almost to much as you squirmed beneath him, you knew your high was coming and it seemed he did too as he slowed his pace to barely nothing. " fuck Eddie that's not fair" you pant out not wanting to lose the feeling. "looks like your going to have to be a dirty girl and make yourself cum for me". You didn't need an explanation as you started to buck your hips against him obviously satisfied that you understood what he meant he resumed his previous pace. It didn't take long to feel like a band was about to snap in your stomach "I think I need to pee" you cry out. His pace quickened again as you felt a gush between your legs as you scream out his name well aware that the neighbours must now know it. He waits until you've come down from your high before removing his digits shocking you as he sucked them clean. "I knew you would be sweet baby" your eyes fall down to his large bulge as if on autopilot you reach for his zipper to free it. A look of fear spread across your face, "will it fit" you naively ask him. "you really were an innocent one weren't you, it'll be fine".

You didn't have time to worry about whether or not you could accommodate his dick as he was between your legs pretty quickly. Using his own to keep yours apart. "your sure you want to"? he double checks, you want nothing more than to feel him inside you. You pull his face down to meet yours as you kiss him for the first time, "i want you" you confirm against his lips. He positions his throbbing member to your entrance before slipping in. God it hurt but it felt so good at the same time feeling yourself enveloping him. "fuck your so tight baby, your squeezing the shit out of my cock" he starts off at an agonising slow pace making you buck faster in him. "your a greedy little slut aren't you? wanting more of me" he thrusts into you harder and faster hitting the sponge of your wall. This really did something to you as you sink your hands into his curls. "your close again aren't you?" you can't even form the words to confirm it as you feel the familiar feeling rush over you. You clench yourself around him as you receive your release feeling his dick twitch inside you knew he wasn't far behind. "fuck your tight little pussy just drained me darling. He pulls out of you and a mixture of your juices oozes out of you. As you stand to get a cloth your legs defy you sending you crashing back down to the bed. Eddie quickly gets you the cloth and starts to clean up the mess you both created. You scooch over allowing space for him to lay down next to you and rest your head on his chest. You lay in silence regaining some composure, before he spoke. "I think this has made it pretty clear that I have a thing for you, if I'd have known this would happen I'd have asked to cash in on the lifts much sooner". Yes this was so much more than what you have dreamed about.

#eddiemunson #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 2 years

Note

For your 'Send me silly Descendants prompts, pretty please.'

Chad's younger sister, Chloe Charming the sporty perfectionist friend of Red from the pocket watch, is much younger than him.

And he loves to make her and Dizzy laugh.

Thank you, this was fun!

I accidentally added Anthony, because Anthony and Chad pretending they can stand eachother for the sake of their sisters/cousins is simply too much fun and I like it.

I hope you like this little story, too!

Chad theatrically crowns himself with a fake crown – the same one that he printed all the way back on Carlos's 3D printer – and declares:

„I am King Chad Charming the Great, ruler of this magical realm!“

His little sister Chloe giggles and reaches out to straighten up the crown and the cape, which he might or might not have put on sideways deliberately. He crouches down so she could reach more easily.

Dizzy Tremaine, Chloe's new favourite playmate, on the other hand, seems to be frowning. Weird.

„Isn't that, like, high treason?“ the Isle girl asks, and, excuse me, what?!

He glances over at Anthony Tremaine, who in true Isle kid fashion refused to let Dizzy go alone, mostly out of pure paranoia, and also just to annoy Chad, and who is now smirking. That prick.

He covers his mouth with his hand as soon as he notices Chad looking.

Before Chad can figure out how to respond to being accused of treason over childish game, his sister takes care of it:

„No! It's just playing pretend!“

„That means it's not real and doesn't count,“ he adds just to be sure.

„Oh!“ Dizzy brightens up, „Like when CJ and Harry kidnaped me and threatened to feed me to the sharks if Anthony and Harriet don't kiss!“

…Chad is starting to be mildly concerned.

The sight of his suddenly blushing step-cousin is worth it, though.

As Tremaine does not seem to be up for an answer, Chad decides to get back to the game.

„I am a famous hero, for I have slayed many terrible beasts-“

He plans to pretend Chloe and Dizzy are the beasts and to chase them around for a bit.

Chloe has different plans, though.

„I think you'd make for a fine princess, though,“ she says, „And I'd be the knight rescuing you from the vile monsters!“

…Or he could be a princess. That works too.

„I'm a princess, locked up in a tall tower, guided by the horrible dragon that has kidnaped my from my parents,“ he laments, straightening the ill-fitting crown yet again, „Whatever will I, abandoned maiden, do? Whoever will save me?“

He chooses to ignore snickering Anthony and instead focuses on the giggling girls.

He breaks the character a bit to smile at them, before wringing his hands in exceragated distress again.

„Wait, no, not yet!“ decides Chloe suddenly, „You must look like a princess first! We should give him a makeover, don't you think, Dizzy?“

Sure. Makeover. Sounds fun.

„Can we?“ Dizzy looks at him with wide eyes, immediately copied by Chloe, and, well, of course they can. They squeal with joy and bolt to Chloe's room, to get the „accessories“ and „make-up kit.“

Anthony tries to hide his laughter so hard that he gets a coughing fit, the bastard. Serves him right.

Chad glares at him across the room, which leaves the other boy utterly cold, which is absolutely not fair. Chad is a prince and his glaring should make people a little bit nervous, if nothing else.

The door flies open and the two girls run straight to Chad, dragging him down to sit. They chatter happily as they comb his hair and add frankly obscene amount of hair clips into it, before finishing the hairdo with Chloe's most sparkly and glittery tiara.

„Can I take a look?“ he asks, curious to see what they have done.

„Not yet!“ snaps Chloe. Okay, cool.

Anthony carefully schools his expression blank and then notes that „You should just be glad you lot don't have any dye around, man. Though pastel pink wouldn't be half bad on you, I admit.“

As Chad is still trapped on the chair by the girls and their make-up brushes, he settles for glaring at Anthony again. Up until Dizzy comes in with eyeshadow and he has to close his eyes.

„Why won't you make Anthony a princess, too?“ he asks sweetly. The little hands stop, hovering above his face, as Chloe and Dizzy contemplate.

„Absolutely not,“ refuses Anthony.

Yeah, no. If Chad has to suffer through make-up, so has Anthony.

„You wouldn't want to spoil their fun, would you?“ asks Chad slyly, having opened his eyes and staring at the other boy, very much implying he would be a bad older cousin if he refused.

„No, absolutely not. I'm not even pretending to be a princess.“

„Anthony, please!“ Dizzy.

„Pretty please!“ Chloe.

„Play with us, Anthony!“ Dizzy.

„Pleaseee–“ both of them.

Chad inwardly smirks.

„Fine,“ sights Tremaine, „I will play with you. I will be the foul beast guarding the princess in her tower and you will have to fight me.“

Over pouting Dizzy and cheering Chloe, he finishes: „I can put on my make-up on my own, thank you, and why, yes, I can fight, little princess. Wanna try?“

Chloe thinks it over a bit, while Dizzy settles for finishing Chad's eyeshadow. Chad still thinks that if Chloe put her leg down, she'd get Anthony to agree.

Probably.

Possibly.

Her wide eyes and excited little jumps work at Chad without fail, at any rate.

„Not yet,“ decides Chloe finally, „Do your make-up first and I'll find us suitable weapons.“

„The sparing ones, the ones that dad keeps in the chest for you – you know where, right?“ reminds Chad, just in case.

She just rolls her eyes and whines that yes, of course she knows, but, well, better safe than sorry. Judging by Anthony's curt nod towards him, this might as well be the first thing they ever agreed on.

Chloe and Dizzy are not getting hurt on their watch.

Dizzy finishes Chad's makeover and proudly drags him in front of the mirror, where Anthony is carefully applying dark smoke-eyeshadow and glittery highlighter and somehow pulling it off.

Almost as good as Chad.

„I look exquisite,“ Chad announces just as Chloe barges back in the room with an armful of training weapons.

„You look fine,“ agrees Chloe, and why, thank you.

„You, however, need help,“ she tells Anthony before sticking lipstick to his hand and a tiara at his head.

„I do NOT wear a tiara!“ protests Tremaine, taking it off his head immediately, „And I ought to be the monster, remember?“

So Dizzy snatches the tiara for herself and Chloe all but throws a sword at Anthony, who, unfortunately, catches it. Shame.

Shame all the more that he copes with Chloe's unconventional sparring approach quite well.

„Keep up!“ Chloe yells and suddenly, there is a sword in his hand too. So Chad joins the whirlwind, feigning a hit at his sister and stopping before he touches her.

„Am I not the princess?“ he asks, blocking Dizzy's hits – she is concerningly skillful for such a tiny little thing.

„Not anymore!“ announces Chloe brightly.

„The princess turned evil!“ cheers Dizzy.

And, well, that works.

#disney descendants #chad charming #chloe charming #dizzy tremaine #anthony tremaine #story

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littleholmes · 2 years

Text

In honor of s2 + OVA news, I’m making a sequel to my “rewatching sk8 for the 1000 time…” post, so even more moments and quotes I still love every time I watch this series include:

“Just keep in mind you gotta pick out trucks that work with them” “A pickup truck?!” “Ohh my godddddd!”

“Reality’s brutal my dudes.”

“It sounds a little weird to be a cat.” “Who are we to say what sounds cats can and can’t make!”

"Oh, you poor dear, you must be dehydrated!"

Group trip supervisor Shadow trying to gather everyone in an organized way when they first arrive getting burned by everyone as they skate off except Langa who thanks him before leaving

“Where’s that smile? Where is iiiit? Tell meeeee! Blahhhhhh!”

ಠ_ಠ “You jumped over a twig right?”

“SUUUUURRRRE! *baby talk voice* Look how cute these are! Could you just die?”

“So freakin’ scary!!” “So gross and smelly!!” “I’m so freaked out!!!” “I’m so grossed out!!!”

Sketchy the fennec fox being the absolute cutest and 1000% done with the boys’ shenanigans

“He sparked frickin’ joy?! Cool coolcoolcool.”

“Real talk dude, do you brush your teeth?”

“I’ll be at the finish line. Push me.” “Yes, princess. What, did ya fire Carla or something?”

Shadow napping in the car while the under 18 trio practices

“You’re that guy from the love hotel.” “EXCUSE YOU?!” “No! That’s not what I mean!” “What is a love hotel?” “Now you’re pushing it.”

"Do they serve any poutine?" "Grow up! I'm getting pizza!😋"

“Says the four-eyed food snatcher!” “I ordered it!” “Well you’re getting this!”

“He’s charring his chesticles for locals in heat. Such a thirsty gorilla.”

“That’s deep, eh?”

Everyone reminding Reki he should be healing his injuries

"Buuuuut....😊there's no brain damage!"

"Is that a real bento box?!"

"Cherry Blossom only exists on that mountain"

"Oh for the love of—and you brought the kids😒."

"C'mon Oka, play your manager card."

Kaoru’s laugh when Adam slips in the rain

“Fluffy what?” “Whatever you want. I will not be forced to pick a favorite angel.”

“Why are you such an idiot?” “Awww…so sweet.” *Reki’s grandma and three sisters stare at him like 😯😮😧😦*

“No human body should ingest five hamburgers!” *cuts to Langa minding his business eating a burger with nine more in front of him and a super poutine being served*

“Ms. Tokyo University needs a nap.”

“I need an adult!!!”

Reki’s mom burning things when he’s not okay because she’s worried and back to cooking things perfectly when he’s happy again

“I never would’ve guessed Peepaw Shadow would come through with something like this for 3000 yen!” “Guys…we’re over here!”

“I hate to rob you of your tingles but that’s not how this is going down.”

“Well, you can’t give up, you promised you wouldn’t leave us. I’ll forgive you for being a jerk if you come with me. Get up. Let’s go.”

Shadow watching the race in the hospital in the middle of the night and screaming in excitement

"What is it you require to turn a meal into a mouthgasm?" “A what?!”

“Why are you a dumbass?”

“Daddy!!! Mommy’s mad and said if you don’t come back she’ll kill you🥺” “What?! That is NOT your mom!” “Dude’s a dad…”

“We’re both watching the same race, sweetie”

“Oh my god I hope it’s me!”

Reki running off to find Langa and repair their relationship

“Thanks for the senior discount.”

“C’mon, let’s bet on it Kaoru!” “Don’t ever use that name again! *kicks Joe in his ass* Idiot!” *Joe’s little laugh*

Skate Fan/Fun

“I’ll go return the car for you! 😊….*sees teenagers in all the seats* WHAT THE HELL?!!”😠

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #miya chinen #hiromi higa #shokichi oka #sk8 shadow #sk8 cherry blossom #sk8 joe #sk8 snow #sk8 miya

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lgg5989 · 2 years

Text

Church Encounters Chapter 23

We are back with a new chapter for you guys! I hope everyone likes it.

This fic is written in collaboration with my bestie @barbiewritesstuff so be sure to give her a like and a follow! I hope you enjoy the lovely moodboard @barbiewritesstuff made, the previous chapters can be found on my Masterlist and the whole story thus far is posted on my Ao3!

Tag list: @roosterscock @sydneyhlove @mygyn @inky-sun

“Rogue?” Jake volunteered.

“Sounds great to me. What are we doing for the like outside decorations? How does she want it to look?” Nat asked, glancing over at your phone.

“White frosting over the entire cake, with a small chocolate heart saying ‘B + M’ like a carving in a tree,” you replied, “Easy peasy,” you smiled.

You crashed down into the sofa, exhausted and horrified to find out it was already lunch. You mentally went through your pantry and fridge, wondering what you could cook up when the doorbell rang.

“I’ve got it!” Jake called, coming out of the nursery, still wearing his pyjamas. He made his way to the front door, patting down his hair to look a little more presentable before opening it.

“What was wrong with it?”

“Would not be able to tell you,” Jake laughed, “I’m not a car guy, they just told me what to do and I did it.”

“I would have thought you’d know something about cars, Jake,” Nat said, coming in with a pot of coffee for everyone and four mugs.

“I wouldn’t have to, Lieutenant Trace, if you didn’t fly recklessly. I know Bob trusts you, but that doesn’t mean I have to give you carte blanche for every manoeuvre you can think of when you’re flying against Bradshaw,” Cyclone said, fixing her with one of his famous glares, “I like my son to come home in one piece.”