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rulerofstars · 4 years

Note

do you write in modern!au? i have an idea about an angst of him confessing/proposing to his s/o but because they were too shocked, he thought he was being rejected and he left them, (cutting their contacts off and such) then they meet again after some time coincidentally and they got to talk about it and his s/o got to finally answer him (sorry if its too long!)

Le quattro Stagioni

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x (Fem) Reader

Genre & Warnings: Modern AU, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of alcohol

Word count: 4,950 words

Angel: I am so sorry this took so long, anon. Thank you so much for requesting, I hope you enjoy this one. Play the songs in order upon seeing the little hearts (♡) that I’ll put, but only if you guys want. All the love.

Songs:

Two is Better than One by Boys Like Girls

Back to December by Jake Coco (or TS)

You and Me by Lifehouse

The tepidity of June danced along the slightly cool breeze that blew a few strands of your hair away from your face. Numerous messages from Hanji made your phone go almost crazy and overwhelmed by the bombardment of notifications. Several questions about what would you wear, what time will you go, or should they pick you up.

A sigh escaped your lips upon opening your apartment door, the cold feeling of being alone grazed your cheek, sending shivers down your spine even though it was summer. Walking to your room, you grabbed the makeup pouch on top of the dining table along the way, replying to your friend’s messages.

Tonight is a special one. After five long years, a highschool reunion is initiated and organized by a few of your batchmates, and the venue is at a small garden event place—where everyone experienced their first prom when in third year. Your lips formed a smile upon the memories brought by the sudden reminisce, it was your first everything.

♡

Highschool is a period where people often experience every kind of shit an individual has to go through to enjoy their teenage years. We get drunk, we smoke—well not everyone, but a majority has tried taking one drag and regretting it afterwards, we lie to our parents, we cut classes. It doesn’t always happen to everyone, and not every single person can relate, but the point is, highschool brought us to situations we never knew we could get through. It introduced us to unfamiliar feelings, it gave us the chance to quench the curiosity that formed within the depths of our minds.

It doesn’t always happen to everyone in high school, but in your case, you fell in love.

Being friends with Hanji allowed you to become one with their own circle, too. The ever so responsible Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit—Hanji’s best friend, and you didn’t know if they noticed but there’s something else in the man’s eyes whenever he stares at Hanji, and of course, Levi. . . Every single one of them had their own idiosyncrasies, and it wasn’t hard to get along with them, especially with the man with the jet-black hair and slanted eyes.

As a transferee from another school, you chose to go along their group, because being with them makes you feel at ease. They weren’t intimidating at all, Levi was, at first, but their warmth and how they welcomed you in their circle will never be forgotten by your heart.

Everyone has their own “partner in crime”, except for Erwin who could ace high school on his own, but he did help anyone who needed a hand, and because of his duties as a class president, he doesn’t always have the chance to mingle with you guys. And so every time you had afterschool shenanigans, Mike and Nanaba would have their own little world, Hanji would be blabbering their rants to Moblit, sometimes Erwin too, if he’s not too busy with his responsibilities, and you are often left with Levi. It’s not that you hated it—you never hated it.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” He asked, one day. It was three months after being friends with you when he first held your hand, just because an over-speeding car almost hit you while you were walking your way towards our house. His hand felt nice on yours, and the concern that dwelled in his eyes was enough to make your frail heart dance with the crispy, orange leaves.

It was in the final term of first year when the attraction towards him grew into a little crush and little did you know how he became more fond of you than he did with the others, too.

“Do you want me to get you soup?” The busy cafeteria was filled with hungry students, lunch time only allows you to have your break within an hour. Yes, fuck school, but thank God the canteen wasn’t so far away.

“Yep,” You answered, while waiting outside of the line as you waited for Levi to finish ordering your food while you held his bag, and the utensils.

“Go find us a chair, I’ll come to you.” His bored eyes darted onto yours, nodding his head, insisting that you should go and sit. Hanji and the others found you soon after being separated for a while, they sat anywhere but the seat in front of you. Because, it’s Levi’s spot if it is across yours, and nobody can change that.

The unexpected bond of you and him had grew into a light sense of puppy love, and you really didn’t have a clue about what you were feeling, but it did feel right, he felt right.

“Do you like Levi?” Nanaba interrogated you one time when she and Hanji had a sleepover at your house, and a sleepover isn’t one if you would not talk about crushes and such. Apparently, something is really going on in between her and Mike, and she talked about how it all began in middle school. Hanji, apparently, is too caught up with fictional creatures like Titans, and they spoke about not having time for crushes.

“Yeah, do you like him? Because he liiiikes you,” They teased and you brushed it off, avoiding the question by changing the topic immediately.

“Don’t be silly.” You laughed.

Of course, of course you did.

He is the snowflakes of your winters.

It was the autumn of sophomore, when you first went into Levi’s house, along with your friends, of course. You met his lovely mom who welcomed you warmly and cooked the nicest food you’ve ever tasted outside of your house, and then you met his uncle who acts as if he’s always drunk and calls Levi a little runt.

“Tch,” Kuchel showed you his baby pictures, and you stared at his annoyed face, picturing if he had not cut his long, dark hair. Maybe he could tie it into a manbun? “Mom, stop that.” You laughed, amused how he managed to snatch the album away from the grip of his mother as he ran towards his room while everyone giggled because of his reaction.

“That brat was never the friendly type, we’re glad you were able to adopt him to your group,” Kenny snorted. Behind his harsh words were a sense of gratitude, you knew that Levi’s uncle may appear as harsh at first, but he was kind, and you were pretty sure where Levi got his attitude from.

Kuchel patted the top of your heads before sending you off that day, thanking you for how well you treated Levi, “You take care of my son, okay?” She said, and it might have appeared as usual to others, but not to you. You’d never forget how she looked into your eyes the moment she spoke, as if she was pertaining to you.

What you thought was puppy love had bloomed into something deeper, something stronger, more serious, and bigger than the both of you.

-----

It was the spring of junior year when you first made out. His room was dimly lit, the curtains were closed, his bed was soft, his tongue on yours—and how you wrapped your arms around his neck just to pull him closer to your body.

The seasons flew by quickly, you knew how well your heart and mind begs for him, and he is well aware about how a single touch of you could make him falter. You weren’t dumb, and it wasn’t that hard to figure it out, what was hard was to admit.

“What do you feel about me?” You asked, staring into his eyes and getting lost within the ardor the dwells upon his irises whenever he looks at you. “Do you love me, Levi?”

You would never forget how his ears turned red at that moment, placing soft kisses on your face while holding you in his arms, never ready to let go. “Tch, what do you think?”

“I think you do, too.” You smiled, pressing your lips against his and closing your eyes, feeling his warm breath on your face, his long eye lashes against your skin, and the scent you’ve grown fond of for years.

His eyes trailed to the necklace he gave you at prom, tracing the cold silver chain that rested upon the smoothness of your neck, “Then why’d you ask?”

And he would never forget how your eyes gleamed when he told you that, as if every star in the universe exploded and the smithereens fell onto your face. “I’m right, then?”

“Mhm.”

“I just want to hear you say it,” You pouted, kissing on his forehead and studying the cosmos in his eyes. You have always wondered how his eyes looked so pretty whenever you stare at them, never had you noticed how it only dazzles that way just because he is looking at you.

“I am in love with you.”

And it’s just a matter of time when the both of you realized that “you and me” was meant to be an “us.”

Everyone knew about your relationship when you were in high school, you were a power couple, lowkey but sweet. You never fail to capture almost everyone’s attention whenever you do the slightest things, hold each other’s bags, when you give him your food, when you share food, when you share a smile, most especially when you took every breath away at your first dance in prom. The relationship was private, but it shook everyone’s world. You kept things to the both of you, leaving people extremely curious about it.

The graduation was emotional, almost everyone was crying while they hugged their friends. And tears were flowing from your face, too, while Hanji and the others enveloped you into a group hug.

“I’m going to miss you all, oh my God.” They cried.

“There, there, it’s okay.” Erwin shushed them, earning a glare from your brunette friend.

“Shut up! You’re lucky you’d be going to the same university as Levi and Mike!”

You shook your head at them, spotting your boyfriend and walking towards where he is. A small smile formed on his lips upon seeing you approaching.

“Hey,” You smiled, kissing his cheek. Good thing, the lipstick you’ve used is waterproof.

“We made it, huh?” He kissed your forehead, and seldom are the times that he is willing to be affectionate in public. You closed your eyes for a while and caressed his cheek gently.

“We did,” You grinned, reaching out to his palm and intertwining your fingers together. “Hold my hand?”

He let out a light chuckle, and you swore, you fell in love a bit more. “Always.”

While you are the flowers of his spring.

♡

Just like how high school was, college flew by quickly. After years of being emotionally, physically, and mentally drained, you couldn’t believe how you managed to reach the last year of suffering. You wouldn’t lie, but the pressure and the amount of knowledge you’ve compressed into your brain made you doubt yourself. The path towards reality was extremely horrifying, and you felt like you couldn’t take it. You doubted your own capabilities to the point wherein you almost didn’t believe in yourself anymore.

It was the winter of senior year when Levi asked you one question that almost made your heart stop.

The snow fell from the empyrean that day, the heater felt useless because of the extreme cold that crept upon the spaces of your apartment. Your boyfriend was there while you burned your eyebrows trying to work on your final requirement.

You wouldn’t lie if you would say that the stress that had been introduced to the both of you didn’t put a space between him and you. Numerous quarrels have made you stronger, but this. . . it was as if you’re aware that you are drifting apart, and you weren’t doing anything about it, and fuck how it scared you. You wouldn’t lie if you were to say that the love wasn’t as warm as it used to, it wasn’t as fluttery as before, and you understood that it could be because of college. But the thought of letting go of the man that you love just because you are so damn scared of opening up teared your heart to pieces, and so you made your mind.

“C-can we talk?” You asked, approaching Levi who sat on your couch while scrolling through his phone. He nodded, standing up and following you to the dining table where all of your papers and laptop sat, while you shivered underneath the sweater that you stole from him.

“I have to tell you something,” Your hands gripped the hem of the sweater tight, while your boyfriend lean against the backrest of the chair.

“Yeah, me too.” The coldness of his voice added to the ice that formed because of the freezing weather. Was he this cold or were you not used to anymore?

“I-”

“Marry me.”

The ice struck your core like a billow enraged with fury and no mercy. You couldn’t speak nor react as your stared at him while time remained suspended in the frost. Your mind could not process his question, and confusion glazed your eyes while your heart pounded like crazy. The grip of your hand against the hem of the sweater weakened while you couldn’t believe what you just heard.

You thought he’s calling it off. You thought he was going to break up with you, you fucking thought you were done. But you are so taken aback that you can’t even talk. You sat frozen until seconds turned into minutes. You were sandwiched in the conundrum of stress, pressure, anxiety, and doubt.

“I see,” The words that left his mouth struck you in a different way as you watched his body walk out of your apartment. You wanted to scream, to punch yourself, to hurt yourself for not being able to function. You are trembling, but not because of the cold. A part of your soul shivered upon trying to understand what just happened.

“O-oh, my God.” You whispered, rushing outside without even bothering to put on more clothing. Winter’s kiss felt like a ghost on your skin as you sat in the middle of your snow-coated staircase, seeing how he had already gone.

Trepidation slowly crushed your heart as hot tears trickled from your eyes, down your face. Realization crept in the depths of your system as you understood that what caused you to be terrified never involved anything about the future, you’re not crying because he left, because whenever he does, he always comes back to you. What scared you the most, was how he felt before leaving. It felt like goodbye.

-----

The summer dress fitted your body perfectly, putting on a small smile while staring at yourself in the mirror. After some time, you finally finished getting ready. Pink stained your juicy lips, and you topped it off with a gloss. A spritz of perfume, earrings, mascara, everything felt like complete but deep inside, you knew that something was missing.

Your eyes darted on your neck, that is why, feeling nothing around your neck was weird, because you were so used to wearing the necklace that he gave you back when you were in high school. Sighing, you found yourself opening one of your drawers and taking out the necklace once again, you never threw it away, how could you? You just stopped wearing it. Cold and pretty, it sat on your skin. It never looked weary despite how old it was, because you took good care of it. You took good care of the presents Levi gave you.

Memories of how you broke down and how Hanji and Nanaba hugged you so tight while you sat in the middle of Levi’s empty apartment tore a piece of your heart once again. How you begged Erwin and Mike to help you with finding Levi, but they were clueless, too. It hurt so much, he left without a word, cut everything off, he was gone in the wind, and never in your life had you been so confused, so hurt, desperate for answers, desperate for chances.

Before thoughts of him could fill your mind, you forced yourself to think of something else. It has been six months since then, but you would be lying if you were to say that you don’t miss him. Because in reality, you fucking do.

A doorbell woke you out of your daze, “Coming!” You shouted, double-checking everything before heading out the door. Various thoughts filled your mind upon seeing the staircase that was once buried in deep, white, snow.

“Come in, girl!” Nanaba shouted from the backseat, and you smiled upon seeing their bright faces. In the front was Mike, and Moblit’s in the passenger seat, Hanji and Nanaba sat next to each other in the backseat, squishing you in a tight hug once you got in. You missed this so much, it has been so long. You never imagined that you could cherish a friendship like this, one that could last long. One that is worthwhile.

The garden is filled with various decorations inspired by the summer. Flowers of different kinds greeted your vision, every decoration turned the same, old, and boring venue into a decent one. You smiled at every familiar face you’ve encountered with, grinning awkwardly whenever they asked you about Levi, and your heart ache. You sought for answers, and they were never given to you.

“Where’s Erwin?” You were curious about the blonde man’s whereabouts, he’s probably busy with work. He immediately got into a company after graduating. You were in their graduation, and Levi wasn’t there. Thoughts of how you panicked that day filled your mind once again, how you cried to Erwin and Mike, telling them how you’ve ruined Levi’s life. But they were comforting, telling you how the man could have transferred when in the final semester in the last minute. Still, everything’s just a possibility, you didn’t know.

Hanji scrolled through their phone, “Probably late because he’s busy,” They answered, looking at you to check if you are okay. Their hand caressed the exposed skin of your shoulder, sending comforting warmth to fight against the cold of the night. “I’m sorry if everyone’s asking about. . .” They trailed off, and you smiled at them, assuring them that it is okay, even though it’s not. How the fuck will it be okay?

Nanaba hugged you from the side while you were sitting, you leaned your head against their shoulder, letting a few tears fall from your pretty eyes.

“I’m sorry, it’s just how they knew you. . .” She whispered, caressing your back, “You’re (Y/N) of Levi.” A bitter laugh escaped your mouth as you chewed on your bottom lip.

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” You giggled, forcing the tears to stop. Mike handed you a glass of water that he fetched from the mobile bar, and you thanked him, carefully drinking from the cup. “Thank you, for being with me.”

“Always.”

Everyone had fun with games and such, the food was great, you had to go back to the buffet table two times, not minding your diet for the night. It was in the middle of the program when Erwin came, nodding at the men and hugging you girls.

“What did I miss?”

“Everything, dude. Where the fuck did you came from? Narnia?”

The spotlight is suddenly on Erwin, shocking the man who is currently eating the food Moblit got for him while he was gone, the Microphone person, Oluo, decided to interrogate Erwin, being the class valedictorian of your batch. People laughed when he was forced to take one shot of pure tequila before making a short speech first. You weren’t sure if Erwin was one of those who organized the event, but he did told you that he was added into a groupchat by a person from another section—you think Nile was the name.

Erwin was indeed, super late when you realized that it is time to for the most fun part of every prom you had in high school—the party portion. The man ate first before he joined your group’s rowdy-ass partying, you had fun as if you were back in your teenage years, except, you had unlimited alcohol this time. You’re pretty sure that either Hanji or Mike would come home late because those two doesn’t know the word limit.

Amidst the part where everyone’s being wild, from disco music to cheesy ones that you actually danced to when you were. . .

♡

A few couples filled the dancefloor, as others went to the mobile bar, ready to get drunk. It was one of your favorite love songs which played, as if it’s mocking you for not having your long-time partner. It’s mocking you for being single, fuck, you don’t even know if you are single or not.

Your boys formed a circle, they always do this every time a sweet song plays from the blasting speakers, mimicking a cotilion, but jumping to the part where everyone switches partners by forming a circle. You get partnered with Mike first, making funny faces to him like how you used to when you were young, and as he twirled you around, you found your self in the gentleman’s arms—Moblit, he told you how pretty you looked as he let you spin, passing you onto Erwin.

His eyes darted on the necklace on your neck, smiling upon the sight of the familiar jewelry, “You look beautiful tonight,” He told you, swaying you along the rhythm of the music. Your lips formed a slight smile, knowing that the reason of his stare is because of the necklace. “Don’t even think about teasing me, Erwin I swear I’ll punch-”

“Woah, easy there, I won’t do that to you.” He laughs at your glare, this man is probably drunk, you thought. While the two never knew their limits, Erwin’s a fucking weakling when it comes to alcohol. He twirled you around with so much force that you ended up not being catched by Mike and so you closed your eyes and braced yourself for the impact, but you didn’t fall.

Warm hands caught your frail body, whoever it was wrapped their hands around you, and between the the searing touches of this stranger, you felt yourself froze, feeling the familiarity of the unfamiliar touch. The clean, musk scent that had you enticed and whipped for years is recognized by your system.

There’s something about you now. . .

His warm hands embraced you like he used to while you get lost within the music that you first danced to.

I can’t quite figure out.

“I missed you.” He whispered, and you couldn’t open your eyes. You buried your faces within his chest, and how you also fucking missed it.

While various emotions filled your core, the tears that failed to escape your eyes before the party started, found their way back into your tear ducts. You didn’t know what to feel, how to feel, what to think, you are once again clueless while you let yourself drown within his touch.

Everything she does is beautiful.

But one thing is for sure.

Everything she does is right.

You are glad that he’s back.

He is the chill that makes you shiver when autumn comes by.

“F-fuck you. . .” You cried, sobbing onto his shirt and gripping onto the fabric. Levi’s hands caressed your back, pressing you closer, harder onto his chest. Fury crept upon every crevice of your heart, but you can’t let him go, you’re scared to let him go.

The love that you have for this man is so tremendous, that you can’t stand to hate him. Slowly, you felt yourself being pulled away from the crowd of dancing couples, distance made the music sound so soft, and the only sound that blasted you to bits was the sound of your heart beats with his.

“I hate you, I fucking hate you, how dare you—how fucking dare you!” Your fists came in contact with his hard chest, the feelings you have kept to yourself for six fucking months blasted like a waterfall. The force was too much, and you let yourself get carried out. Just this once.

His soft eyes never left your tipsy state, you were perfect. Still perfect.

Levi gladly took every punch you threw, every curse you spat, every slap you gave, because nothing could ever deny the fact that he deserved it. He was so fucking dumb, as Erwin and Mike told him.

“Leaving after proposing? Are you a sick fuck? Who does that?”

He received words from his friends after knowing what happened between the both of you. Curses, advices from Erwin, words from Hanji, the disapproval of Moblit, Mike’s punches, Nanaba’s disbelief.

“How d-dare you leave me! Y-you told me you won’t leave me. Fuck you, I-I love you. . .why did you leave me. . . Y-you know that I hate it when you leave me.” You sobbed, not knowing if you should continue hurting him or if you should go and hug him.

Levi’s lips pressed softly against your forehead, holding you tight, under the unforgiving solstice of the night.

“I almost failed my major. . .” He whispers, hugging the vulnerable you, while he buried half of his face onto the crook of your neck. And fuck, how he had missed this, how he fucking missed everything about you. “I never told you, because I know how anxious you were. . . I don’t want to become a burden.”

Your breathing was unsteady as you choked on words you could never say because of what he just said, your grip on his shirt tightened as you felt more tears streaming down your pretty face.

“I felt us drifting apart. . .and fuck, it scared me, (Y/N),” He paused, breathing deeply and running his fingers through your hair. “And when you asked if we could talk, I thought you wanted us done. So I asked you to marry me.”

His warm hands found their way to caress your tear-soaked face as he brought his face closer to yours, staring deeply into your eyes. “And I really wanted to marry you, baby. Fuck, I even had the shitty ring with me that time. . .” He gulped, biting his lip upon seeing the pain in your eyes. He could feel how fast your heart beats, he could feel the ache you’ve gone through for six months. “But I freaked out, And I really thought I. . . I already lost you.” He closed his eyes, he couldn’t bare seeing you cry because of him again.

“Erwin told me that I don’t deserve you, and I realized that really fucking don’t.” The cold wind kissed your skin, contrasting the heat that his body radiates. Steel grey eyes you have fell in love with years ago and until now darted on the silver necklace that sat pretty on your skin, and how it made his heart pound faster that it does. “But I am in love with you. . . The six fucking months, I’ve spent all of it trying to make myself a better man for you.”

His eyes, the gloss that reflected the beauty of the moon stared into yours once again. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the way his eyes look more pretty whenever you stare at him, because it has been a while since he last saw you.

“And whatever decision you are going to make, I will accept.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss on your tear-stained face once again. “I am in love with you.” A small smile formed on his lips, as if he was already assuming that you’d leave him, and you hated that smile, you hated everything.

As if you fucking could.

“Marry me.” You muttered.

Gone was the fragility that dwelled upon your starry eyes, every doubt, every question, every ounce of fear that once settled deep inside your heart vanished along every meteor that crashed into the abyss of nothingness. Gone was the hate, gone was everything else except for the both of you.

‘Cause it’s you and me, and all of the people, and I don’t know why, I can’t keep my eyes off of you.

He nodded at you, speechless upon your sudden question. And he knew that this is right, he is sure. He is sure of you.

“I’m sorry.” His kisses sent butterflies and made you grew flowers on every inch of your body as he carefully slipped a ring on your ring finger. “I will make it up to you.” His words are coated with finality, and your heavy-lidded eyes felt warm once again, his slender fingers wiped the corner of your eyes before the tears could stain your face once more.

“D-don’t you leave me again.” You choked, admiring the ring that he got you. It fitted perfectly on your finger, just like how your hand fits perfectly with his.

“I’ll stay with you, always.”

“I never stopped loving you, Levi.” Your soft voice was melody to his ears, as the summer night reminded you both of how everything started. How you first met, how you first held hands, how you slowly fell in love, how you first made love, how you both thanked the cosmos for leading you to each other’s arms.

“I’ll never not love you.”

And you will always be the warmth that completes his every summer.

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #aot #snk #levi imagine #levi aot #levi angst #levi fluff #rulerofstars

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the-demelza-robins · 3 years

Text

never understood you before (but i do now) part vi

guess who’s back!! and with the final chapter!! sorry for the wait, and hope you enjoy!

you can also read this on ao3

THANKSGIVING BREAK PASSES in a flurry of turkey, potatoes, and disapproving glances (courtesy of Petunia). When it finally comes to an end, standing next to her parents and waving halfheartedly at Vernon’s car as it backs out of the driveway, all Lily feels is relief.

The moment is short lived. “Lily, dishes,” Laurel says, more of a statement than a question. Lily sighs and walks back into the kitchen. She’s about ten minutes into the seemingly endless pile of plates and tupperware before her mother joins her.

“What did you think of Vernon?” Laurel asks, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. Lily pauses, faucet still running. She calculates. Honesty is not the solution here, but neither is an outright lie.

She settles on saying “I think they’re a good match” while sponging the pan she’s washing a little too aggressively.

Laurel hums. “Petunia’s always been more — conscientious of the future. It’s one of my favorite things about her. She plans and she plans and she plans.”

She’s planning with Vernon, Lily translates. Her future is safe with Vernon.

“I think there are some things you can’t plan,” Laurel continues, smiling slightly. “Your father and I… never in my wildest dreams would I have predicted marrying him. I just — I just worry for Petunia, that she won’t be able to experience that.”

Silence, except for the faucet.

Lily clears her throat. She wishes she could respond I worry for Petunia, too, but the fact is that she and Petunia have never been close, not since they were children, not since — well, not since Severus. In the dim recesses of her mind, Lily can scrounge up some happy memories of her sister — shared Halloween costumes, Petunia’s protective stance on the playground — but they’re both rare and fleeting. Petunia is Petunia, and Lily is Lily, and the former will forever disapprove of the latter in the way that only sisters can. She can’t vocalize this truth, though — even if her mother already knows. Instead: “I think Petunia doesn’t want anything to be unpredictable. I think she’d hate falling in love with someone unexpected.”

Laurel nods, standing up a little straighter. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’ve been branching out this year. I know you don’t tell me everything, but the Parents’ Association moms are very chatty. I never would have imagined you with Roger Davies, that’s all. I was surprised.”

Lily knows that she’s started to blush, but she can’t stop. She and her mother never talk about these things. “I really don’t think I’m in love with Roger, if that’s what you’re getting at, Mom,” she says, thinking of the last time she really spoke with him. The last yearbook meeting, maybe? Anything they’d had had fizzled out after that first date, after she’d somewhat clumsily executed a slow fade. “I haven’t even spoken to him recently.”

“Well, I guess I’m behind the times. Want to catch me up? Anything going on lately?”

“No,” she says, more forcefully. “Nothing.” Inexplicably, Lily pictures James, sitting on the kitchen counter just days ago. She pushes the thought down — she must have had too much wine at dinner, to be randomly thinking about him like this.

“Just checking,” Laurel says, a glint in her eye that Lily can’t interpret and feels vaguely threatened by. “I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Love you,” Lily calls automatically, already back to the soapy water, her mother’s words echoing in her head. You’ve been branching out lately. Had she, really? Yes, she’d spoken to Roger. Become friends with James. She supposed she had more people to say hello to in the halls now, but that was really just because of her position as head of the yearbook. The fact was, she still felt like the same old Lily, truly open to only a few people, closed off to the rest of the world behind a veil of awkwardness and, at times, imposter syndrome. Her thoughts pull towards James again: how comfortable she feels in his presence, how easy it is to do away with the layers of caution that seem to smother her other social interactions. She shakes her head, turns the water off, examines the now clean kitchen. No more thinking of James Potter, she tells herself firmly. The thought echoes through her head as she gets ready for bed, self defeating by nature.

*** Marlene comes back from Thanksgiving break with a new friendship. She and Remus, she explains, had been volunteering at the same soup kitchen over break. Long hours ladling soup and tearing off bread had created (by Marlene’s telling) an unbreakable bond. “All of this is to say,” she says now as she swerves past a mailbox, Lily hanging on for dear life in the passenger seat of her friend’s car, “that Remus invited me over to watch a movie at James’s on Friday. It’s so funny how they — all four of them, you know — just invite people over to each other’s houses. Squad goals? Anyway, he said the invite was for me, you, whoever else. Dorcas has those damned violin recitals, but hopefully we’ll be able to spring her free — watch it! —” (a pigeon had dared hop into the road, and flew away hastily) “— and Alice and James and Sirius and Peter too.”

“Oh,” Lily says.

Marlene shoots her a look. “I thought it was a wonderful idea, seeing as you've started to become completely platonic, innocent friends with James Potter —”

“— every day, I regret telling you about Halloween more and more —”

“— and there’s nothing like a movie on a Friday night to solidify a friendship, is there, Lily?” Marlene smirks, and Lily can do nothing but silently fume as they pull into the high school parking lot. “Come on. You know it’ll be a good time.”

“I do, and I hate you for it,” Lily grumbles, getting out of the car. “And, for the last time, there’s nothing going on with James. Stop smirking.”

“Speak of the devil,” her friend says in lieu of a response, motioning to where James is approaching them from across the parking lot. For a second, all Lily can do is stare. He looks tanner, she thinks, briefly, before dismissing the thought; he didn’t even travel over the break. She must be seeing things.

He stops in front of them, holding onto his backpack straps and squinting against the sun. “Just the girls I was hoping to run into.”

“Oh?” Lily asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder and glancing up at him before she loses the nerve. Just James. Just a slightly tanner James. Nothing you haven’t seen before.

“For the movie on Friday: Peter and I want to watch Jaws and Sirius and Remus want to watch Love, Actually. Thoughts?”

Lily finds herself sputtering, “But — I barely just agreed to go, how did you —”

Marlene’s dangerously close to smirking again. “I may or may not have told James you’d be a sure thing,” she says, not noticing (or not caring) about James’s hair, or his tan, or the way his biceps flexed slightly when he ran a hand through his hair. How could someone not care about those things? “Have a nice break, Potter?”

“Perfectly fine. Did you like the flowers, Lily?”

Marlene shoots her an incredulous look, and Lily doesn’t know who she wants to murder first. “My mom really appreciated them. Tell your mom she said thanks.”

He pouts. It makes his mouth look — good. Shut up. She knows what it’s like to kiss him. Shut up. To feel his lips on her skin, on her neck, against her pulse point. Shut up.

“— game on Friday,” James is saying, and Lily’s not listening, but it doesn’t matter, because now he’s talking to Marlene. Lily trails behind them, watching as her fellow students move aside to let him pass through the parking lot, through the school entrance, through locker-lined hallways.

“— coming, Evans?” he asks, snapping her out of her stupor. They’re standing outside what she belatedly recognizes to be the math classroom, Marlene long gone.

She blinks once, twice. He raps her temple gently, that teasing glint in his eye again. “Lily?”

She’s so stunned by the fact that he’s touching her — granted, his knuckles are touching the side of her head, not a particularly romantic gesture — that for a second, she can only stand there, scrambling for some excuse, something to fill the suddenly heavy air between them.

Before she can come up with a suitable response, Gretchen Prewett shoulders between them to step into the classroom, breaking their contact and bumping into Lily a harder than strictly necessary. And that’s when Lily remembers — James and Gretchen. Gretchen and James. Gretchen with her curly blonde hair, her brown eyes, and her kindness, her infallible goodness, ever since kindergarten when she offered Lily a turn on the swings — Gretchen ensconced in James’s embrace after the soccer game, Gretchen whispering in his ear at the Halloween party, Gretchen with her arms around his waist at that one house party at the start of the year….

“Lily?” James repeats, this time with more concern. “You okay?”

She blinks again, suddenly unable to make eye contact. “Um, yeah.”

“Thought I lost you for a second there,” he says. “Shall we?”

He steps through the classroom door, and all Lily can do is follow.

***

That night, Lily sits on her bed, calculus notes spread around her, and texts the group chat.

i don’t think i can do this movie night thing on Friday

She exhales, the lie settling in her brain. She adds: something came up

Marlene responds almost immediately.

Marlene: was that something the realization that ur so desperately attracted to james samuel potter, you can’t be in the same room without wanting a repeat performance of halloween night?

Dorcas: i don’t think james’s middle name is samuel

Marlene: semantics

Dorcas: you don’t have to go lily

Marlene: oh yes you do

Lily: his middle name is Fleamont after his dad

Marlene: …

Marlene: why would you ever know that if you didn’t want to submit to the sexual tension that seems to follow you both EVERYWHERE

Lily: i’m a normal person who pays attention to things, that’s how i know his middle name!!!

Lily: and we do NOT have sexual tension

Marlene: pish

Marlene: i saw the way you were looking at him in the parking lot today

Marlene: you were feasting ur eyes

Alice: i wasn’t there but i believe marlene

Marlene: it’s okay tho because he was checking you out too

Lily’s blushing uncontrollably now. She’s always loved Marlene’s relentless determination, her stubbornness; however, it’s almost never been turned on her. What makes her friend’s insistence all the more infuriating is the fact that she’s right. Lily is plagued by flashbacks to Halloween night whenever she’s close to James. She can’t help, really, but admire how smooth his jawline is, or the shape of his collarbone, or the curve of his biceps, which sometimes show, depending on what shirt he’s wearing —

Even his once-annoying habit of constantly messing with his hair has grown on her, if only because she knows what it feels like to run her fingers through it, and wants desperately to repeat the experience.

Lily: okay even if i were a smidgen attracted to him it doesn’t matter because i completely forgot that he had a thing with gretchen

Alice: omg gretchen

Marlene: i thought they were just hooking up???

Lily: idk but she was really aggressive to me today right after i spoke to him

Marlene: huh i didn’t think she had it in her

Alice: go gretchen honestly

Alice: it’s about time she developed some backbone

Dorcas: yeah not with lily tho???

Lily: i don’t want to be a homewrecker

Marlene: you are literally so dramatic

Marlene: just ask James where he’s at with Gretchen

Marlene: on Friday.

Marlene: when you’ll be at the movie night, because you’re coming with us, because i’m picking you up at seven

Marlene: :)

***

At 7:05 on Friday night, Marlene pulls into Lily’s driveway.

“Surprisingly punctual,” Lily comments as she slides into the passenger’s seat, the familiar hum of the engine calming her nerves slightly. There’s a bitter chill to the air, to be expected in early December, and she wraps her coat around herself more tightly.

Marlene shrugs. “I do what I can.”

Then she floors it. All too soon, Lily finds herself standing in front of James’s door, hand hovering over the doorbell. “Is this really —”

Marlene rolls her eyes and jams her finger against the bell. “Yes. It’s really necessary. Talk to him and then ride off into the sunset together.”

Just then, the door swings open, and there he is: hair wet from a post-game shower, wearing a shirt that brings out the green in his eyes — eyes that flick up and down, taking her in, so quickly she almost could’ve missed it.

“Lily, you look great,” he says, then clears his throat. “Um, we’re downstairs. Movie’s about to start.” For the first time, he seems to notice the girl standing beside her. “Hi, Marlene.”

Marlene whistles lowly as they head downstairs, and Lily prods her with her elbow, cognizant of the fact that her cheeks are turning more and more red. She tries to take her mind off of James by focusing on her surroundings; she hasn’t been in his house since elementary school, when it was common procedure to invite the whole class to every birthday party. It’s nice — that’s no surprise, considering his family’s considerable wealth — and looks fairly lived in. As she and Marlene step into the basement, fully finished with a giant television and an assortment of comfy chairs and couches, Lily begins to regain her composure.

Sirius and Remus are cuddled up on one end of the couch, with Alice and Dorcas sitting on the floor in front of them, flipping back and forth between Jaws and Love, Actually. Marlene immediately walks over to Remus, and Lily trails behind, dismayed to hear that the two have already begun talking about a class that she doesn’t share. She turns towards Alice and Dorcas, but is stopped by the prickle at the edge of her vision — some subconscious mechanism alerting her to the fact that she’s being watched. Sure enough, Sirius Black is staring at her, eyebrows raised. The almost challenging expression is new to Lily; the Sirius she’s always known has been laid back, easygoing.

That is, before she accused him of trying to take advantage of her best friend on Halloween night. She cringes internally at the memory; she won’t apologize for worrying about her friend, but perhaps she had jumped to conclusions a bit too quickly. She clears her throat and veers towards him, steeling herself.

“Lily.” Sirius inclines his head ever so slightly, watching as she perches awkwardly on the couch’s arm.

“Sirius. I, um, probably should apologize for Halloween night.”

“What part?” he says, and something’s wrong, here, she thinks. “The part when you accused me of taking advantage of Marlene, or the part when you stuck your tongue down my best friend’s throat, then abandoned him?”

She’s so floored she almost falls off the couch. He’s speaking quietly, tone monotone, and if she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought he was bored by the whole thing. But his gaze hasn’t moved from her face, and she realizes for the first time that Sirius Black, while angry, is worthy of fear.

“I — well — I’m sorry for assuming your intentions with Marlene. I didn’t know you —” she looks towards Remus, still chatting away obliviously with her friend “— I didn’t know you were in a relationship, and I overreacted. As for the James stuff, I — I really don’t know what to say. I thought he just wanted to be friends.”

“Yes, when Remus kissed me for the first time, my first thought was, ‘Oh, I bet he just wants to be friends,’” Sirius mutters acridly, but his expression has softened slightly, and Lily allows herself to relax, just a little bit. “Jesus Christ. This is worse than I thought.” “What is worse?” Lily asks, feeling strangely defensive. “James and I —”

“James has had a crush on you since seventh grade, Lily,” Sirius all but hisses. “It’s so incredibly obvious, I never even considered you didn’t know. I thought you were —”

“Some manipulative bitch stringing him along?” Lily finishes, arching an eyebrow at him, hoping she can disguise the shock reverberating through her. Since seventh grade.

“You’re kind of scary, Lily Evans,” Sirius says drily. “And sharp. Emotionally aware or some shit. It’s intimidating. The poor fool was just happy to have time with you, even if you thought that him fucking kissing you was an expression of platonic friendship — ”

“That’s not — I’m not — I — he was with Gretchen!”

Sirius scoffs. “I can’t explain all his choices. But they were never together, never officially. Gretchen was hooking up with Michael Goldstein at the same time. She can get kind of territorial. I told him not to get mixed up in it, but he was so hung up on — well.” He pauses. “I’ve said too much.” His tone is not apologetic or regretful in the slightest; in fact, Lily can see the beginnings of a smirk on his face. She doesn’t focus on it for too long, though; there’s too much to process. For the first time, the possibility of James — of really being with him, of holding his hand, of FaceTiming with him late into the night, of walking down the hallways together — cements in her head. Her head swims, imagining the potential of it all. “Where’s James?”

“Getting drinks upstairs,” Sirius says, eying her with suspicion. “Why?” “I think he and I need to have a talk.”

***

Lily finds James in the kitchen on the main floor, trying and failing to carry seven beer cans at the same time. When he sees her, they come crashing to the floor, and before she knows what she’s doing, she’s helping him pick them up, avoiding eye contact.

“What are you doing up here? Is something wrong?” James asks once the cans have been dealt with.

She leans against the kitchen island, wiping her palms on the sides of her jeans. His gaze follows the motion before he blinks and makes eye contact again, clearing his throat. Waiting for her to speak.

So she does: “Nothing’s wrong. I just — I wanted to ask you about someone.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Really? Who? Sorry. Whom.”

Lily can’t help but roll her eyes, his impeccable grammar relaxing her nerves. “Whom? Really, James?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, but there’s no real heat to it. “Only the best for my yearbook editor.” He’s leaning against the wall opposite her, hands in his pockets. When he looks back at her, the air feels like honey: thick and slow-moving, sweet. She’s never had someone look at her like that before. Her heart speeds up. Get back on track, Lily.

“Right. Uh, anyway. I was thinking about Halloween —”

There it is, again. That look. Followed by a brief glance at her mouth — he’s quick, but she’s attuned to his every movement, now — before his eyes flick back up to her face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I realized that I completely forgot about Gretchen.”

James breaks eye contact. “What about her?”

One deep breath, then two. “Well. Were you seeing her? Was I — helping you cheat, or —”

“God, no,” he says. “Lily, I would never — we weren’t exclusive, or together, and she was mostly using me to make Michael Goldstein jealous, anyway.”

“Oh.”

He clears his throat again, runs a hand through his hair. It’s dry, now, and looks impossibly soft. Lily’s fingers clench automatically.

“Well,” she says, heart pounding. She senses she’s very close to something, something big; it’s like she’s standing on the edge of a cliff, crystal-clear water below, and she’s terrified of how deep she might fall. No matter that jumping off that cliff is what she’s been wanting to do for months now. No matter that jumping off that cliff might simply mean closing the two feet of separation between her and the boy she so desperately wants. “See you downstairs, then.”

***

Lily bolts.

There’s no other word for it; she walks out of the kitchen as fast as she can, pretending not to hear James calling her name. She knows she’s a coward. She knows that if she’d crossed that final threshold, if she’d turned back around, if she’d stayed, her life might look very different. But she can’t do it.

The fact of the matter is, Lily Evans has been Lily Evans, undesirable, longer than she has been Lily Evans, as-crushed-on-by-James-Potter-since-the-fucking-seventh-grade. She needs to let the notion sink under her skin. She’s out of first moves; she’s out of soul-searing confidence. She asked about Gretchen. It was a baby step. Now she can go downstairs and watch the fucking movie, and bear the brunt of Marlene’s disappointment, and fall asleep fantasizing about James’s lips and hands and body instead of experiencing the real thing. It’s fine. It’s what she’s used to doing, and so far, she’s done perfectly well.

It’s not that she doesn’t like James; no, the opposite holds true. She very much likes James, to an extent that is unfamiliar and sticky and all too attainable. James Potter — the disco ball that’s sharp around the edges, except lately it seems as if they’ve both been childproofing the jagged parts, making them soft and round and welcoming. She doesn’t know how this works, how to navigate a minefield that’s been disarmed and paved over.

Besides, she thinks as she begins to walk down the stairs to the basement, how is she supposed to hold up to the idealized version of herself that must have been growing, festering, in James’s head for the past five years? Lily, who’s only kissed three people, and never done more; Lily, who doesn’t know how to be in a relationship, especially one with one of the school’s most visible students; Lily, who, despite all her newfound confidence, still can’t wrap her head around the idea that James would like her. Would want her. Would —

“Lily?”

Instinctively, her head snaps towards the voice’s source. It’s James, of course it is. He stands at the top of the stairs, the soft glow of the overhead light making him look practically angelic. She nods at him.

“Can I join you?”

“Yes.”

He walks until he’s standing on a step two feet away from her. The trek down to the basement involves two flights of stairs, with a landing in between; on the first staircase, therefore, she and James are hidden from the basement’s occupants, from outside influence, from the world.

“What is it?” she asks, going for unbothered and confident and failing miserably. She can’t meet his eyes.

“I was just wondering — now that we’ve, um, cleared up the Gretchen thing — well, the thing is,” he says, running a hand through his hair and smiling apologetically, “I’m, um, rambling. Sorry. Um, what I’m trying to say is that I’ve really enjoyed being your friend over the past few months. But — and it’s only fair you should know — I’ve really, really liked you for the past few years. God, that makes me sound creepy. It’s not that, I swear. I just — you’re so — so poised and kind and sharp. I always, well, I always thought you were too mature for me, too smart. You — you really don’t suffer fools, Lily, and I am one, but, well, in spite of that — in spite of everything — will you go out with me?”

She looks up at him, eyes wide, heart beating wildly. “You are a fool, James,” she whispers, words almost catching in her throat, because there it is. He’s just given the final confirmation, the truth: that he, James Potter, likes her. Wants her. Wants to be with her. She can’t stop — fuck, she keeps remembering Halloween. His hands on her skin. “I — you’re a complete fool, and you’re also ridiculously charming and intelligent and social in a way I can’t fathom, and I respect you. I really do.”

James’s face falls. “Right. Well, I’m glad you respect me, and I’ll just — I’ll just go now, I guess —”

“I don’t want you to go,” she bursts out. This conversation is getting out of her control (when had it ever been in her control?), the words slipping away from her. You can’t do first moves, grand proclamations, the voice in her head whispers snidely, but she ignores it. “I want you to stay. I respect you, and I like you, and I want to be with you. See?”

It’s his turn to look gobsmacked. “Oh. As friends, or —”

She pounces on him. There’s no other word for it, not really; she reaches the staircase step below his, and then she guides his mouth down to hers, hands around the back of his neck, back arching under his. If she stands on her tiptoes she can make the angle better, and… there. Something like a sigh falls from James’s mouth. His hands wind through her hair, glasses bumping slightly against her forehead. It’s not a perfect kiss. But it does accomplish the most important thing, for James Potter, jagged around the edges, and Lily Evans, sharp to the touch, have changed.

Both are now soft, malleable, in each others’ arms.

#jily #jily fic #jily fanfiction #harry potter #james potter #lily evans #american high school!jily #harry potter fanfiction #james x lily #James Potter x Lily Evans #mine #my writing

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melanielocke · 3 years

Text

You'll be in my Heart

Alastair has been sleeping poorly, so when he's awake at night and the babies start crying, he might as well get up and sing them back to sleep.

Song is You'll be in my Heart from Tarzan

I did a lot of research into a baby's development and how to feed your child in the 1900s for this

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Alastair had been a poor sleeper for as long as he could remember. In between nightmares, irregular patrols and struggling to feel safe enough to asleep, it wasn’t that uncommon for him to lie awake at night, unable to go back to sleep. He’d found few remedies so far. Thomas could help him through the nightmares, but he wasn’t here tonight. Thomas had started looking for an apartment of his own, and Alastair had considered moving in with him when he found one, but he did worry it might be a bit soon in their relationship. At the very least, Thomas’ own apartment would give them some much needed privacy.

But there was one more reason Alastair would rather stay here for now. His mother had given birth a couple of weeks ago, and to everyone’s surprise she had twins. A boy and a girl. After fighting over baby names for months with Cordelia, the three of them had settled on Rostam and Shadi, choosing Persian names for the babies rather than English ones. Shadi was a sound sleeper so far, didn’t cry often. Rostam on the other hand, kept his mother awake at night. She was getting exhausted, Alastair could tell, and so he’d promised he would get up when the babies cried. Now his mother only had to wake up every three hours to feed the babies since he couldn’t do that and his mother didn’t trust any of the alternatives for breast milk.

The soft crying didn’t surprise him anymore at this point. The babies would get louder as they grew, and Alastair hoped he’d be able to take that. Loud noises were always something he’d struggled with. It was one of the reasons why he’d chosen spears as his primary weapon, it meant he could keep a bit more distance from the demons. But even if it was difficult, he’d be there. He’d always be there for his little brother and sister.

He got out of bed and to the nursery. It was Rostam, as it usually was. He was fairly certain his mother had fed the babies less than an hour ago, he’d been awake then too, so that wasn’t it. Of course, sometimes babies just needed to be held and Rostam loved the warmth and safety of Alastair’s arms.

His nightshirt was unbuttoned at the top, leaving some skin bare. His mother had told him babies like to make skin contact and that it helped with the bonding. Alastair knew he could not quite be a father, but he was the closest thing the babies would have to a father. He was determined not to disappoint, but had to admit he was scared. What if he wasn’t be enough? What if he was just like his father?

Alastair took Rostam out of the baby bed and gently rocked him. He was still crying, but he was getting softer. The way the babies cried often made him want to drop whatever he was doing and rush to them and hold them until they were alright. But what calmed the twins the most was when he sang to them.

Alastair hadn’t sung in years. He’d loved to sing and play the piano when he was a child, but at some point he’d lost that joy and playing had become too painful, too overwhelming, reminding him of the childhood he’d lost. Rostam and Shadi had brought back his love for music, and he and Thomas had written a lullaby together. Alastair truly did not understand why Thomas was so shy about the songs he wrote, they were marvelous.

Rostam did not stop crying, and Shadi had woken up as well. Alastair hoped his singing wouldn’t wake his mother, or Cordelia, but at this point it was the only thing that would help Rostam calm down.

Come stop your crying it will be alright. Just take my hand hold it tight. I will protect you from all around you. I will be here, don't you cry .

Rostam stopped crying, and stared at him with his big dark eyes. Both the babies had them, a trait they shared with Cordelia and Alastair, but with neither of their parents. Alastair had hated those eyes on himself, once. He’d wished he had blue eyes like his father, or even the light brown eyes his mother had. But now he was glad the babies looked like him and Cordelia, like their mother. They were perfect, and beautiful, and didn’t resemble their father much at all. And Alastair knew it was cruel to think such things, but he truly believed the babies were lucky their father was gone.

Even if Alastair was still struggling to come to term with the loss. Thomas was right, it was much harder to lose someone you were on bad terms with. It took his chance to find closure. Alastair knew there was no way he could have made things right with his father, there were things that could not be forgiven, but he wished he could have confronted him. He would have lashed out at his father, he would have shown him, this is what you made me. He would finally have confronted him with the damage he’d done. And now he never could.

For one so small you seem so strong. My arms will hold you keep you safe and warm. This bond between us can't be broken. I will be here don't you cry.

Rostam really was small. Alastair did not have much experience with babies, he didn’t remember Cordelia being a baby and had only seen other people’s babies in passing. He’d been surprised how small the newborns were, even if they weren’t premature. According to brother Zachariah, or Jem, as he’d been trying to call him, that was not so common for twins, and Sona was very lucky to have gotten through her pregnancy so well. Still, having the babies had been hard on her and she needed to rest as much as she could.

'Cause you'll be in my heart Yes, you'll be in my heart From this day on Now and forever more

You'll be in my heart No matter what they say You'll be here in my heart, always

‘Alastair, is that you?’

Alastair would recognize his sister’s voice anywhere. Cordelia had moved back in after coming home from Paris. She and James were separating, and the enchanted bracelet James had worn was a decent enough reason to separate without ruining her reputation. Both Cordelia and James needed time, and as far as Alastair was concerned, seventeen was far too young to be married. Not that he knew what the right age was. He would never be married, after all. It had become easier for his mother to accept that now that she knew he liked men. Before, she’d doubted his insistence, worrying that he isolated himself too much and would be unhappy, but now she knew he wasn’t alone at all, he had Thomas. He finally had friends, a partner who loved him and treated him well, and a closer bond with his family than he’d had in a long time.

‘Rostam was crying,’ Alastair said. ‘I was awake anyway.’

Cordelia came to sit down next to him, and took Shadi, who was also awake and had begun sobbing softly, out of her bed. That was the difficult thing with twins, you had to divide your attention, and although Shadi was generally quieter than her brother, she didn’t like it when he got all the attention.

‘I never thought much about having babies on my own,’ Cordelia said. ‘But we’ll probably have our hands full with these two for the coming years. ’

‘No regrets about leaving James?’ Alastair asked.

‘I loved him so much,’ Cordelia said. ‘Knowing he didn’t feel the same way. And I know now that it was because of the bracelet and everything that he was so cold. But Paris did give me some distance, some time to sort everything out. As you said, unrequited love doesn’t last forever. Besides, I think I like someone else now.’

Alastair looked at her. ‘Please, please tell me it’s not Matthew Fairchild.’

‘It’s not Matthew,’ Cordelia said, gently rocking Shadi in her arms. ‘It’s Lucie. I’m not sure exactly what’s going with her and Jesse. He’s still figuring out this whole being alive thing, and Lucie thinks maybe a friendship would be better for them than romance, especially so young.’

‘Really? Well, it would be an improvement,’ Alastair said, turning to the baby in his arms. ‘Wouldn’t it, moosh moosh-am?’

Little mouse. Alastair had taken to calling the twins that. It was what Cordelia called her sword, but it was far more fitting for the babies.

‘Don’t involve Rostam in this,’ Cordelia said.

‘He’s three weeks old. He doesn’t understand a word I’m saying,’ Alastair.

‘I’m glad to hear you singing again,’ Cordelia said, changing the subject. ‘I missed that.’

‘Me too,’ Alastair said. ‘For so long, I just couldn’t, knowing it wasn’t like it used to be. Knowing I’d be mocked for singing. But the babies should get to go to sleep with a lullaby, shouldn’t they? Thomas helped me write this one.’

‘Can you sing some more?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Thomas did write a second part, but he’s not so sure about it yet.’

Why can't they understand the way we feel They just don't trust what they can't explain. I know we're different but deep inside us We're not that different at all And you'll be in my heart Yes, you'll be in my heart From this day on Now and forever more

‘That was beautiful. Perhaps Thomas is insecure about the second part because it also describes how he feels about you,’ Cordelia said. ‘Oh look, Shadi’s asleep again.’

‘Rostam too. Let’s put them to bed before they wake up again.’

Alastair and Cordelia put the babies back in their beds, tucking them under the blankets. In some months, they would be putting some toys and stuffed animals with them, but at three weeks they were still a bit to young. Alastair had done a lot of research about a baby’s development and apparently babies couldn’t grip anything until they were about three months.

‘Sorry I woke you up,’ Alastair said.

‘You haven’t been sleeping at all, have you?’ Cordelia asked.

‘It remains a struggle,’ Alastair said. ‘Thomas is sleeping over tomorrow night. Usually that helps me feel safe enough to sleep. I’m getting better, Layla. I’ve been speaking to brother- to Jem. I’ll be alright.’

‘You’re singing again,’ Cordelia said. ‘That’s a good sign. I’m glad to be back home. Even if the babies keep everyone up at night.’

‘They’re probably going to get worse,’ Alastair said. ‘They’re not yet old enough to scream very loud.’

‘I guess then my sleep schedule can match yours,’ Cordelia said. ‘Make sure to take enough breaks, go to Kamala or the Lightwoods when you want to. We can handle the babies.’

‘I will,’ Alastair said. ‘Good night, Layla joon.’

‘Good night, dâdâsh,’ Cordelia said. ‘If the babies wake again, I’ll go. Please get some sleep.’

#Alastair Carstairs #Cordelia Carstairs #Carstairs siblings #baby Carstairs #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 3 years

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Disappearance 8: The End {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Thank you to everyone who has been on this little journey with me! I hope this fic has been enjoyed even half as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Disappearance Masterlist

As his parents they were permitted to take the boy home to the apartment with them, and the boy liked Miki right away. When she wound herself around his shins and stood on her back legs to butt her head against his hand, he was smitten. The quiet giggles as he pet her and played with her and her toys were like music to both Katsuki and Chiasa.

Miki was happy to see Chiasa, licking her hand affectionately after receiving chin scratches in greeting. Chiasa could only marvel at how much she had grown since she last saw her as a tiny kitten pouncing on every dust particle in the apartment. It was a sweet reunion and one Katsuki had always hoped he would be fortunate enough to witness.

That seemed to be a new change in his life, being able to reclaim the peace he once had before Chiasa had disappeared, and now he was fortunate enough to have that with both her and their son.

Watching the reintroduction of mother and son at the hospital was surreal. Chiasa had marveled at the small boy she had once thought to be a hallucination standing in front of her in the flesh. It was obvious when the boy recognized her and spoke with caution that she was hurt just imagining what her voice had said to him without her consent. But she spoke warmly to him and promised that she was real and not the mother he thought he knew before.

The boy would experience the same thing soon when he found out who his real father was too.

Just thinking about the paperwork with the paternity test results tucked away in his bag was enough to have his spine tingling. They hadn’t sat the boy down to tell him that Katsuki was his father quite yet, afraid that too much change and information in one day wouldn’t be good for him as he integrated into the real world. The child psychologist at the hospital had been more than supportive of the decision and offered his services going forward, something they readily accepted.

Another thing they had to deal with was setting up appointments to find out more about the skin condition causing the rashes and itchiness for him. The doctors had attempted a few preliminary tests that came back inconclusive and recommended a dermatologist for further testing and treatment. It seemed unlikely the generic skin cream they sent them home with would do much in the meantime but it was worth a shot.

He pondered all of this as he watched the pot with the beginnings of their miso soup was considering boiling. Down the short hall he could hear murmurs from the bathroom where the boy was finally able to get clean, to take what Katsuki knew was the first bath of his life with his mother. He left the kitchen knowing a watched pot never boils anyway and a glimpse of his son with his mother was much more important.

Quietly walking down the hallway, fingertips dragging against the wall lightly, the voices of his family became more clear.

“We stay here?”

Chiasa hummed an affirmative. “Yeah, this is where Katsuki lives and where I lived a long time ago.”

“Before Toga looked like you?”

A chill went up his spine.

“Yes, honey, before she would look like me,” she replied after a long pause. “I’m sad that she did that because it meant you got to meet me when it was really her and we never actually met at all. I’m sorry about that, but you can know that from now on when you see my face, it’s really me.”

“Really my mom?” he asked.

“I’m really your mom, yes. I’m going to take care of you for the rest of my life to make up for all the time we were apart okay?”

He couldn’t keep himself hidden after that, turning the corner to lean against the doorframe of the bathroom.

“I’m gonna help her too, that good with you?” he asked, both of the brunettes turning to look up at him.

The boy gave a little grin and nodded, a small murmur of, “Yes,” making sure both he and Chiasa smiled too.

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t going anywhere.”

“You should be going to the kitchen to make dinner,” Chiasa teased.

He waved a hand dismissively but started to turn back to the kitchen nonetheless. “Yeah, yeah, water’s probably boiling now anyway.”

It was easy like that, falling back into their old ways. Even with the addition of the boy they had their same rapport and he knew that as a family it could only get better.

Even though he knew it, it felt like it was cemented as soon as the quiet giggles of mother and son entered the kitchen while he plated their meal. Looking over at the two brunettes he couldn’t believe how naturally they fit into this picture of his life.

Now that the boy had been cleaned up his dark hair wasn’t matted and he could see the small spikey tufts sticking out every which way. It looked more like his mother’s slightly longer hair but those were without a doubt definitely from his side of the gene pool. It was overwhelming to realize but even moreso to know that he already loved it and couldn’t imagine a time where he wouldn’t.

His entire being was screaming that it was outrageous for him to feel this way so quickly when he barely knew the boy but it was his son! His son with Chiasa! It was everything he had ever wished for from the time he realized she was the one for him to the present moment.

Katsuki was content to have this first meal as a family and to watch the two of them scamper off to the couch as he cleaned up after them. He was happy to hear the boy speak about the brightly colored cat cartoon they were watching even if they were small remarks. He could absolutely get used this this dynamic.

His thoughts were racing trying to think of everything they would need for the boy as he was brought fully into the fold of their lives. Surely there would also be medical appointments other than to treat the skin condition in addition to the therapy both he and his mother would be attending.

“We’ll have to make the office his bedroom,” he mused aloud as Chiasa laid against him on the couch. The boy sat cross-legged at their feet, entranced with an older cartoon he vaguely recognized.

She hummed. “Should we let him have the bed until then? Assuming you still have the old futon.”

“Yeah, I have it. Kid deserves a good night’s sleep on a nice mattress. You do too, so I’ll take the futon and you two get the bed.”

“No, I wanna stay with you,” she said. “We’ll sleep on the futon in there with him though, just in case.”

“Look at you going into Mom Mode already.”

She playfully elbowed him in the side. “As if you haven’t won Dad of the Year in a day.”

He scoffed but pulled her closer to him. The natural protectiveness over his family blanketed over his paranoia to keep them in his sights as often as he could, even in the apartment.

Even with the League members behind bars, Dabi and Compress for years and now Spinner, Toga, and Shigaraki following, he did feel the fear of losing them again. Deku’s refusal to end Shigaraki irked him knowing what he was capable of but he had said he would leave him to Deku and he had. He couldn’t burn that bridge, flammable as it surely would be.

He shook his head slightly to clear the thoughts from his mind. He had his family here with him now and he would do anything to keep them safe.

Chiasa could remember the victory it was for Dabi to be taken into custody and locked away in Tartarus. Almost the entirety of Class A reunited in celebration of his capture and many a toast was raised that night. But several days later the celebratory mood was dashed as a consultant was brought in to assist in the identification of the uncooperative villain.

The man was called the Biographer, his quirk the same as the moniker. If he made to skin to skin contact with another person he could recite factual information about them such as name, birthdate, parents’ names, quirk, and so much more. It was chilling when he pressed a hand to the unmarred skin of Dabi’s hand and began to speak.

“Touya Todoroki, born January 18th at 9:55pm in the Chūbu region of Honshu, Japan, currently 33 years, 330 days old. Firstborn son of Enji and Rei Todoroki, elder sibling of Fuyumi, Natsu, and Shoto Todoroki. Quirk: Cremation.”

Of course it hit Shoto the hardest as expected but the class was close, a bond having been formed from the horrors of heroics at such a young age that they shared his pain. Even Katsuki had been sympathetic despite the hell that the villain had personally put him through.

The fear of learning something devastating was why when the Biographer stepped into his spacious office he tensed. Paternity tests could be wrong, couldn’t they? What if Chiasa just didn’t remember Shigaraki entering the room and the memories were locked away as a coping mechanism for the trauma? He was terrified that this meeting would create more obstacles for her, potentially even for the little boy—Todoroki himself had been an example of a mother gone mad from the sins of the father.

Kirishima elbowed him in the side, breaking up his thoughts and directing his attention to their guest. He was grateful that he and Kaminari had agreed to come, hoping it put Chiasa at ease just as much as him. She stood by his side, the little boy standing close behind her leg and gripping her hand tightly.

“Hello,” the Biographer greeted kindly. “I understand that there are a few questions about a child that need to be answered?”

Katsuki found his voice as Chiasa’s hand laced with his between them. “The only certainty we have are his parents,”—he hoped he wasn’t wrong in saying so—"everything else we need to know. We want the same basic information as we did with the villain Dabi, like we discussed.”

The Biographer nodded, turning to Chiasa. “And you’re his mother, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she replied, dropping his hand and crouching down to the boy’s level when he shrank under the unknown man’s gaze.

“Can he place his palm in mine for just a few moments?” he asked politely with a small smile. “It’s absolutely painless and he’s free to move his hand at any time.”

“Is that okay, honey?” she asked the wide-eyed child. “You just set your hand in his and we can learn more about you?” When he still looked unsure she added, “I’ll hold your other hand, and we have three strong heroes here to keep us safe.”

The boy nodded, eyes flicking up over her shoulder to meet Katsuki’s. “You stay close?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, walking around her to kneel on his other side. He placed a hand on his back. “I’m right here.”

That seemed to satisfy him enough to look at the Biographer who also crouched down. He extended his upturned palm out to him, patiently waiting until the boy placed his trembling hand atop it.

The Biographer smiled at him reassuringly, glancing at the adults on either side of him and hoping to provide the same comfort. Then he began to speak.

"Born on February 11th at 7:19pm in Nagoya, Japan, currently 3 years, 237 days old. Firstborn child of Katsuki Bakugo and Chiasa Minamino. Quirk currently unknown."

A sob broke past Chiasa’s lips, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth. Startled by the outburst the little boy took his hand away to turn to his mother only to be swept up in a tight hug. He wrapped his small arms around her neck as his bottom lip started to wobble.

Katsuki felt like he could cry too as the weight and fear of uncertainty lifted from his shoulders, and even as he smiled up at his friends he felt the telltale sting in his eyes.

“Come here,” Chiasa said, reaching out to bring him into the embrace. He went willingly and wrapped his arms around them both, his eyes falling closed in happiness as he held his family.

He pressed a kiss to Chiasa’s temple and then to the top of his son’s head, the soft brown tufts tickling his cheek.

Distantly he heard the Biographer excuse himself and Kaminari offer to walk him out. Kirishima followed and glanced back at the little family with a smile. They deserved this. All three of them.

Still sitting on his office floor Chiasa had pulled their son—their son!—into her lap and held him close, the little boy still confused from her crying but happy to be with his mother nonetheless. Katsuki sat close to them, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and a grin still on his face. There were still a lot of things to work out, but this moment deserved to linger.

After a few silent minutes, Chiasa glanced up at Katsuki and smiled softly. She’d known since he told her about the small child while she was in the hospital but to hear it confirmed again was a melody she hoped would stay in her mind forever. But even though she knew he was the little boy’s father the child himself didn’t, and that needed to change.

It felt like there was so much she could say but no words that seemed right. She supposed that didn’t matter though, as long as this little boy knew his parents and knew they loved him.

“Honey,” she murmured, pulling back slightly to look in the boy’s eyes, “did you hear what that man said? Do you know what it means?”

That little pout returned to his face as he considered what she meant. “It was sad. It made you cry.”

“Those were happy tears,” she chuckled. “It wasn’t sad at all. It was really, really good. You know how Katsuki saved us?”

Matching eyes met his as he looked up at him, nodding. “Saved me. Saved you.”

“That’s right, he did. He saved us from Shigaraki and brought us home.”

“Saved us… from dad?”

She bit her lip, glancing at Katsuki briefly to see his jaw set at the false title. “Shigaraki isn’t your dad, honey.”

“No dad?” he asked.

Chiasa shook her head. “You have a dad. You’re the luckiest little boy because your dad is a hero who saves people.”

The boy turned to Katsuki. “Like you?”

“Sort of,” he said with a laugh. “What if I told you it was me? That I’m your dad?”

His eyes widened with what Katsuki hoped was excitement, and he leaned over to place his hand on his knee. He looked back and forth between both him and Chiasa several times, gaze on their eyes and hair respectively, before looking down at his hands where his right was on Katsuki and his left on his mother.

“You’re dad,” he finally said, patting his knee. Then he turned to Chiasa, tapping his fingers on her arm. “You’re mom.”

“That’s right, honey,” Chiasa whispered, one hand combing through his fluffy hair. “And mom and dad aren’t going anywhere, we all get to go home and be a family.”

“Family,” he repeated. “My family.”

He hugged her tightly and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, then he crawled over into Katsuki’s lap, throwing his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around him too, every nerve in his body alight knowing that this was his son. He was hugging his son.

“You’re dad,” he heard whispered against him. “My dad.”

“Yeah, your dad,” he said softly. “’M your dad and even… even though we just met, I love you. Me and your mom both do.”

He sighed happily into his shoulder and pressed himself closer. They stayed like that for a long moment, Chiasa’s lashes lined with tears beside them.

Katsuki wanted to stay in that moment forever, but he knew there were still a lot of things to discuss with her. So he pulled back slightly and asked, “Hey little man, you know what you should do?”

Owlish eyes blinked up at him from where his chin rested on his chest.

“You should tell Red Riot and Chargebolt about your family. I don’t think they know yet, and they’ll be real excited,” he said with a nod to the door. It was still open and they could clearly see the two heroes a few meters down the hall.

The boy looked back over his shoulder, considering, before turning back to look between his parents.

“We’ll be right here,” Chiasa promised. “They’re friends, honey.”

With a little smile, the child climbed out of Katsuki’s lap and trotted up to where they stood, greeted excitedly by both of them.

Chiasa took his hand in hers and laid her head on his shoulder. “This is amazing.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“It feels like the sun is finally rising after a long night. Like daybreak is chasing away the darkness.”

Katsuki kissed her cheek, then tilted her chin up towards him with his free hand to kiss her properly. She was right—this was dawn rising after four years and four months of night. Dawn was finding her and their son and being a family after the darkness of the League had shrouded them for so long. It was fresh and new, filled with endless possibility.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “You and our son.”

“I love you too. And so does he.”

He smiled, looking out to where the small boy was speaking to Kirishima and Kaminari who were crouched down to his level and smiling.

“He needs a proper name,” she murmured, her head resting on his shoulder once again.

He hummed. “I think you’re right about the sunrise, so what about Asahi?”

“Daybreak rising,” she said with a smile. “Yeah, that’s our boy, Katsuki. Asahi Bakugo.”

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated!

Disappearance Masterlist

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years

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Family Fights - Chapter Eight

Summary: Even the strongest bond, the most loving family, can be broken by nightmares, and the librarian is soon to learn this. As she learns sinister things about a person who she had thought was lost forever, she realizes she will need the help of another witch to get her family back.

Notes: Credit for the marra’s name goes to @hilda-fanblog (I think). Also sorry for how long this took, I was freaking out because of school *screams*

(chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5) (chpt6) (chpt7) (chpt8)

The day was sunny with a light breeze, the kind of weather that made people joyous, more likely to do things to please others. That served Frida perfectly: the happier people were, the more inclined they were to buy her cookies.

She stopped in front of a yellow door, taking the time to straighten her uniform before knocking. As soon as the door was open, she began her speech with a smile on her lips.

“Good morning! My name is Frida, and I’m here in the name of the Sparrow Scouts. Would you be interested in-”

As soon as she looked up to make eye contact with her potential buyer, the carefully rehearsed words got stuck on her throat. With a look of disdain on her face, the marra who had tormented David stood at the doorway. Frida recognized her, and she knew the marra had recognized her too.

“Get on with it.” She said, her voice the same emotionless sound that Frida remembered it to be. Struck as she was by the shock, she briefly considered asking one of the other Sparrow Scouts who were accompanying her that day to speak for her, but none of them felt as comfortable doing the talking. Besides, Frida didn’t want to let her think she’d scared her.

As soon as that sale was done, though (and who would have thought that nightmare spirits enjoyed scout cookies?), Frida did excuse herself, telling the other scouts that she wasn’t feeling all too well and that she’d better go home for the day. In reality, she ran as fast as her legs would take her to Hilda’s house.

Hilda hadn’t said much about what was going on between her and the librarian. She and David did know that she was being trained in witchcraft, but when they asked her what that had to do with the Marra, and why the librarian was interested in her becoming a witch, she’d always say that it wasn’t her secret to tell. The two friends respected that. They knew Hilda trusted them and wanted to tell them, but if she felt like she couldn’t, then they’d respect it.

But as little as she knew about the matter, she was sure she’d just found out relevant information: where the Marra lived.

_#_#_#_

As soon as she’d seen Frida out of the house, Hilda turned to her mum. Johanna had silently heard the conversation between the two girls, looking at the ground while Frida told them what she had seen. Before she even closed the door, Johanna knew what Hilda wanted, and Hilda knew just as well that her mother was aware of it.

“Mum.” She said, walking closer with Twig at her heels. “I need your help.”

Sighing, Johanna let herself fall to the couch, her torso leaning forward as she supported her forearms on her tights. Even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to deny Hilda her aid, she still felt like she should try to talk some sense into her.

“Hilda… it’s dangerous.” She argued. “Besides, I can’t just break in.”

“But I’m not asking you to!” Sitting down next to her mum, she touched her back in an attempt to ease Johanna into agreeing with her. “You could just knock and… ask if they have sugar!”

Johanna lifted an eyebrow, skeptical. “Sugar?”

“Yeah! Just go over there with an excuse to talk. You could go during school hours. Even the marra needs to go to school.” Hilda rubbed her chin. “Or at least I think they do.”

Sighing, Johanna leaned back against the back of the couch, evaluating her situation. She had no experience with magic except for that which she got from Hilda’s adventurers. If there was anything dangerous in the house, she would not be able to deal with it. And for the same reason, she might not even be able to discern what would be useful for them or not.

While she was thinking about the matter, with Hilda looking expectantly at her, she felt something tickle her ear. Turning her gaze to her right to see what it was, she realized that the two of them hadn’t been alone in the living room.

“I could go with you” Alfur said, his hand still resting on her earlobe, where he’d touched her to call for her attention. “With the marra away, it shouldn’t be too hard to look around for information”

Hilda took the cue to clasp her hands in front of her heart in a pleading gesture, leaning towards her mother. “Please, mum. You two could really find something useful there. Just think about how happy Maven will if you bring her something about the marra that she doesn’t know yet…”

Sighing audibly, Johanna let her shoulders drop. “Fine. I’ll go tomorrow, while you are at school.”

“Thank you so much!” Hilda threw herself on her mother’s lap and hugged her, feeling Johanna wrap her arms around her and return the embrace. “You’re the best.”

_#_#_#_

Johanna shifted her weight anxiously from foot to foot, trying to squash the second thoughts she was having. She needed to do this for Hilda. If they could find anything that would make the spell easier, or maybe safer, then she had to take it.

“Ready?” She asked Alfur, who was holding to the neck of her sweater. When he gave her a nod, she raised her hand and knocked three times on the yellow door. Just when she was beginning to think there was no one home, a dark haired woman answered.

“Good morning!” She said with a smile. It put Johanna more at ease - at least the woman didn’t look like she was going to attack her or morph into a nightmare spirit herself. “May I help you?”

“Yes, actually! I’m new to the neighborhood, and I was wondering if we could get to know each other a little better.” She went through her memorized speech, which she’d been repeating to herself all over the walk to the house. Technically, it wasn’t a lie, and she felt happy about how natural she had sounded.

“How lovely!” The woman exclaimed while she moved away from the door frame to allow Johanna in. “Of course, my dear, of course. i was just about to have some tea, so why don’t you seat down while I put the kettle on?”

As soon as she had turned her back to her, Johanna furtively looked around for a place to drop Alfur at. He pointed to a coat hanger, from where she imagined he could slide all the way down to the floor or hop onto some other furniture. They had already agreed that if Alfur finished his search while Johanna was still in the house, he would come right back to her: but if not, Johanna would be waiting for him outside, by the corner of the block.

With this matter settled, Johanna soon was sitting down with the woman in a small table out on the back garden, where she kept cages of domestic birds. She was amazed at first by the vibrant colours of the animals, certain that many of them weren’t from their country, but then amazement gave way to distraughtness when they began singing at the top of their lungs. It sounded more like a cry for help than a melody, and Johanna had to stop herself from opening the cages of her hostess’s pets.

While the tea was being made, the woman, who had introduced herself as Loren Holt, asked her basic questions about how long she’d been living in Trolberg and what had been the reason for her coming to the town. She’d had to think fast to come up with an answer other than “house smashed by giants”, but overall it had been pleasant enough conversation.

Finally, as they sat down with steaming cups of mint tea, Johanna felt like she could begin digging for clues. It was very easy to find out the Loren was married and with a kid, who were both away at the moment. She could only imagine that it had been the daughter who opened the door to Frida, so she used the excuse of being a mother as well to show an interest in her.

Jade was a lovely girl, Loren said. She had many friends and was always ready to help people. She did well in school and still found time for family. As her mother described her, Johanna began to wonder if that was really the person she was looking for. A girl like that couldn’t possibly be a nightmare spirit, could she?

“She sounds delightful. You must be really proud.”

“I am” Loren nodded with a smile on her face.

“If that’s okay, could I see a picture of her?”

“Of course!” She said, getting up and asking for Johanna to wait for a second. Walking inside the house, she soon returned with a portrait on her hands.

“Here it is.” Johanna took the frame from her hands, its intricate metal pattern feeling cold under her fingertips. “It’s a recent family portrait.”

The girl in the middle, standing between two adults, looked exactly like Hilda had described. Blond pigtails, pale skin, and a frown on her face. Jade didn’t look at all happy to be there, and she seemed obviously misplaced; both her parents had shining smiles on their faces. Loren’s husband was a tall man with brown skin and dark hair, and dimples that appeared with his smile.

Johanna frowned. Jade looked nothing like them. She could have inherited her skin colour from her mother, but her hair colour was still completely different from what one would expect from the child of that couple. Not only that, but also her facial characteristics weren’t present on her parents either. She supposed she could have inherited her father’s lips, but the resemblance ended there.

“Forgive me, I don’t mean to be rude, but is Jade adopted?” Johanna asked, trying her best to sound curious and not suspicious. “My Hilda is adopted too.”

“Adopted?” Loren chuckled. “Oh, no! She’s our very blood.”

Biting her bottom lip, Johanna ran her fingers gently across the thin glass that protected the picture. “Are her grandparents blond, then?”

Loren laughter again, amused at the thought. “They’re most certainly not.”

It didn’t make much sense. Jade could have dyed her hair, but if that was the case, then certainly her mother would have mentioned it upon noticing Johanna’s confusion, and it still didn’t explain why they didn’t look alike. Johanna’s swallows back a sigh. This was proving to be trickier than she’d thought it would be. Besides, she realized she was being very indelicate to Loren.

“I’m sorry for all those questions, Mrs. Holt.” She apologized, giving the woman the picture back. “I was just… under the impression that she didn’t look much like you.”

Before Johanna could add that now she could see the resemblance, Loren fixed her stare on her, hard and unyielding, unlike the softness her eyes had carried throughout their meeting until that point. To Johanna’s horror, a strand of steam began to rise from her head.

“Well, you can’t have taken a good look.” Her voice was an octave lower than usual, and she spoke in a monotone. “She looks exactly like us.”

Then, the smoke suddenly stopped rising and she blinked a few times, looking like her normal self when she opened her eyes again.

“Oh, look at that!” She squeaked. “I didn’t even bring any scones!”

Johanna watched Loren walk back into her house, pressing herself against the back of her chair and breathing heavily due to the fright. Whatever was happening in this house, it was worse than she’d imagined.

_#_#_#_

“Smoke you say? That’s a typical sign of enchantment, you know.”

“Enchantment?” Hilda squealed as she sat in the couch next to Alfur.

In the end, the elf had finished his search sooner than Johanna, who’d stayed and made small talk with mrs. Holt for a long while, even if she was not fully recovered from what had happened. When she noticed Alfur climbing the table, she politely excused herself, thanking Loren for the time and saying she had a meeting to get to.

Now that Hilda was back from school, she had asked Johanna to tell her everything that happened. She’d said about the portrait, the girl’s unhappiness, the nonexistent resemblance between them, and she’d finally gotten to Loren’s reaction when she pointed that out. Alfur had been trying to get a word since Johanna had began her story, and now that he had a chance to speak, he took it.

“It’s what I’ve been trying to say!” He exclaimed. “The girl’s room is packed with information on magic. Sheets and more sheets of paper with spells, and most of them on manipulation! I would bet my favorite pen, and do realize that I do not sniff at my favorite pen, that this marra put a spell on that couple to convince them that she is their daughter!”

Hilda gasped quietly while Johanna frowned, astonished at the possibility. It was such an evil thing to do that she couldn’t bring herself to believe that a teenager would do it. Still, it made sense. There had been no pictures of Jade in the house in which she didn’t have the same age as she did now. Besides, it would explain why Loren had such a positive view of her when everything indicated she wasn’t that outstanding at all.

“But where would her actual parents be, then?” Johanna asked, pacing around the kitchen while she thought. “Why wouldn’t she be with them? If she can make someone believe she’s their daughter, surely she could get away with the marra activity.”

“Maybe she didn’t want to do this to them. Enchantment can have harmful consequences to the bespelled.” Alfur suggested.

“Maybe she ran away!” Said Hilda. “Like Myra. Maven told me once that her sister left them because of ‘opposing ideas’, whatever that means. Maybe it was the same with Jade.”

Johanna stopped her pacing suddenly, her back perfectly straight as she realized how important this information could be.

“Maven.” She said, walking to the small wooden table near the sofa, where their telephone was. “She needs to know.”

_#_#_#_

Maven had been checking out books when her cellphone rang. It took her some time to pick up, as she couldn’t simply drop the task and leave the patron in front of her waiting for his books, but she sped her pace up when she saw who was calling.

As soon as the young boy was gone with his books, leaving her alone in the circulation desk, she took the phone to her ears with anticipation and a small smile pulling on her lips. She’d barely had time to say hello before Johanna spoke, in a secretive and worried voice.

“Maven, there’s something you need to know.”

#fic: family fights #my fic #the hilda librarian #hilda fanfic #the hilda librarian fanfic #hilda johanna fanfic #hilda's mum #the marra #the marra fanfic

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tonystarkissist · 5 years

Text

IronDad Bingo Fic #2

Oh my gosh! I almost cried while writing this! Ugh! SO much Fluff.

AU: Biological Dad

Kangaroo Care

The surprise Tony felt when he opened his front door to a vaguely familiar woman, from a night about 8 months prior, shoving a small bundle of blankets into his arms before running off was unprecedented. He spluttered and stuttered, holding the bundle of blankets awkwardly. Keeping it far away from his chest while he stared at it with a crazed look in his eyes. What the hell?

“Wha-What?” He eventually muttered confusedly, reverting his gaze into quick glances between the bundle he was holding and the retreating woman rushing across his front lawn.

“I believe it is a baby, sir,” JARVIS responded coolly from inside the house, snapping the man out of his indignant stupor.

“Yeah-yeah, but why?” He questioned stupidly, reluctantly stepping back into the house, closing the door slowly as if in hopes the woman would change her mind and turn back to whisk away the terrifying responsibility.

“Well, if circumstances serve the situation correctly, I do believe Ms. Miller left you in care of her child because you are it's father.”

“Not possible,” Tony argues firmly, staring down angrily at the tight bundle. “I always use protection.”

“Of course, sir. Whatever was I thinking. All forms of protection have been legitimately proven to have a 100% success rate at every use. How could I forget,” JARVIS responded sarcastically.

Tony, not in the mood to argue with his stupidly snarky AI, simply took the jab and continued into his home with a slight wobble to his step. Neither said a word as Tony slowly found his way back in his living room, peeling away at the layers of blanket cautiously to reveal what lay underneath. He panicked when the bundle started to move. He jolted back from the surprise when he heard a noise. There was snuffling and whining, and Tony's eyes widened to the size of saucers as he stared down at the small baby. The smallest he had ever seen.

The eyes weren’t open, it was still all wrinkly, and it’s movements were odd and mechanical as his tiny limbs flopped around in short spurts of movement with no discernible means of purpose. It was - it was creepily fascinating to watch.

“Wha-what's it doing?”

“Its moving, sir,” JARVIS answered bluntly.

“Okay-okay, I can do this,” he muttered. He could do this… right?

***

It had barely even been two days, and he was already failing. Miserably so, might he add.

“Why is he screaming?!” Tony shouted over the loud wails emitting from the tiny, tiny child. He bounced the red-faced, wrinkly baby in his arms as he paced back and forth in front of his coffee table. The kid's gummy mouth was stretched as far open as it could to make sure he could muster the maximum volume as he released his ear-splitting screams. He’d been doing it for almost an entire hour, and Tony didn’t have any idea as to what he had done wrong...

“Has he been fed?” JARVIS questioned.

“Yeah, right before he started screaming.”

“Did you burp him?”

“Yeah,” he whined petulantly, bouncing just a little more desperately.

“Is his diaper dirty?”

Tony paused in disgust and stared down at the lump hiding an oversized diaper. He grimaced, but pulled at the waistband of the child’s pants to check anyway.

“No, it’s clean.” He answered curtly. “Call Pepper. I need help.”

It took a couple seconds, but JARVIS eventually answered. “Miss. Potts could not be reached.”

“Call Happy.”

“Mr. Hogan could not be reached.”

“Rhodey! Call Rhodey!” Tony pleaded desperately, becoming increasingly more frantic as his options quickly dissipated.

What if there was something seriously wrong with his newborn child? Is it possible that he could have really screwed up so badly so quickly??? He needed someone. Someone that could be trusted with precious, fragile things, because apparently he was not that person, despite the small reassurances he had been showering himself with since his son had come into his care two nights ago. He couldn’t do this by himself...

“Colonel Rhodes could not be reached.”

“Oh god,” Tony whined, almost crying out of his pure unadulterated fear and frustration while his son continued to wail loudly in his arms. The bouncing wasn’t working… Isn’t that what you were supposed to do? “What do I do? What do I do? JARVIS tell me what I have to do.”

The silence he received was almost deafening. He needed help. He couldn’t do this on his own anymore… why did he think he could do this?? Oh God...

“I have found a common practice performed with newborn premature infants which yields significantly positive effects, if you would like to try?”

“Yes, yes, yes! What is it? Do I need to call the hospital? Is he sick?” Tony questioned frantically, dropping his gaze hurriedly to the very, very newborn child. Geez, maybe he did need to go to the hospital. Babies probably weren’t supposed to be this small.

“That will not be necessary sir. I will talk you through the procedure. First, you must remove the child's clothing, but I'd advise leaving the diaper.”

Tony's eyebrows raised suspiciously, but he busied himself with removing the infants clothes anyway, doing his best not to jostle him more than what was necessary.

“Alright, now, you need to find a soft blanket.” JARVIS instructs when Tony finishes with his task.

Tony rushed around the room in search of a blanket suitable for his needs. He found it, thankfully, and rushed back to the living room.

“Good, now you must remove your own shirt and lie down on the-”

“Wait, wait, wait. What? What the hell is this?”

JARVIS responded as if it weren’t even at all a weird thing to be asking his maker to remove his clothing in order to soothe a screaming child. Tony wasn’t well-versed in child care or anything, but what the heck?

“It is commonly referred to as ‘Kangaroo Care’, sir. The skin-to-skin contact is proven to enhance a child's immune system, calm its heart rate, and increase familial bond between parent and child.”

“Okay, sure, but how is that supposed to stop him from screaming??” He questioned incredulously, quickening his bouncing.

“It is often a difficult transition for premature infants, going from the mother's womb and into the outside world. It is a scary and unfamiliar experience that can bring young babies much distress, especially with a lengthy period of lacking the familiarity of his/her mother’s voice. This practice helps to surround them in a somewhat familiar and comforting environment because it is similar to the closeness they experienced while in the womb, and it is proven to assist in calming distressed infants. It may also help him in recognizing you as his father and develop a close bond with him early on so he is not as uncomfortable with his lack of a mother.”

Tony paused, his mouth open, bouncing coming to a static standstill as he slowly processed what JARVIS was telling him to do.

“Screw this,” he grumbled, struggling to pull his shirt over his head while holding the baby in the crook of his arm. It would have been funny with the way he was stomping and wriggling and throwing himself around in a desperate attempt to get the piece of clothing off his body as quickly as possible. He just wanted the screaming to stop, and it was much more difficult removing his shirt with one arm preoccupied.

He growled in frustration as he threw the mess of fabric on the ground after ripping it over his head. He quickly plopped down on the couch and adjusted his grip on the baby unsuredly. He could already feel the uncanny warmth spreading across his bare chest as he cradled his son close.

“What now JARVIS?”

“Lie down on your back, then place the child's head atop your breasts-”

“Last I checked JARVIS,” Tony gritted out as he slowly leaned back into the cushions of the couch nervously, “I do not have breasts.”

“I apologize,” JARVIS amended, “I'm reading the instructions directly off the page. The gesture is usually performed by mothers-”

“Then why am I doing this?” The man questioned frantically. Already panicking as he lowered himself all the way onto the couch, holding the screeching baby above him, away from his body, “I'm not his mother.”

“That is correct,” JARVIS responded, sounding as tired and irritated as an AI could be when his human was being ridiculous and utterly stupid. “But when the mother is not available, the father may step in as a replacement. Now, place your son on your chest, right below your collarbone.”

Tony did as he was told and lowered his son gently onto his chest, rearranging the small limbs so he would be able rest comfortably.

Tony felt a shiver run down his spine at the direct contact. His heart beating frantically in his chest. It made him jittery, nervous, uncomfortable, but he needed the screaming to stop...

The crying didn't stop though. It simply became more of a muffled scream when the boy smushed his cheek against his father's broad chest, unable to open his mouth as wide as he wished.

“Now, you must place the blanket over the both of you.” JARVIS spoke, quietening his voice.

Tony draped the blanket over them, but the child still continued to wail.

He was just about to give up and announce JARVIS’ suggestion as inane and ludicrous, but then the wailing stopped abruptly. The sudden silence left an irritating ringing in his ears, but… wow. It worked. His eyes widened in surprise and he strained his neck so he could look at the baby sprawled comfortably across his chest. The baby's wails had quieted, and were replaced by soft snuffles and pitiful whines as his tiny fists curled and uncurled over his father's heart.

He could feel a tiny nose press into his sternum, and tiny, tiny fingertips ghosted over his chest. He had the sudden urge to reach up and grab onto the tiny fingers, so he did. He carefully lifted his arm and gently nudged at the palm of the baby’s hand with the edges of his fingers, slowly curling and unfurling the child’s tiny knuckles just to see...

“He’s so small,” he whispered softly in a rush of amazed wonderment as his son’s tiny fingers carefully curled around his thumb in a tight grip. He was just so… so tiny. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the top of his son's head. The warmth of the small body seeped into his core and his heart softened as he was hit with the realization. A late one at that. It’d been nearly two days and he had never truly comprehended the fact that he was a father now. This was his son. Those were his son’s soft breaths being puffed out onto his bare skin. Those were his son’s small fingers wrapped around his large thumb. His son.

“Sir, I do believe it is working,” JARVIS spoke softly.

Tony's gaze didn't break away, and neither did his affectionate smile.

“Yeah, it is,” he whispered distractedly, raising his other hand to slowly lower onto his baby's back. His large hand almost consumed the entirety of his tiny son and his smile softened even more if that were possible.

He didn't know how long he laid there on that couch with his son snuffling on his chest, and he didn’t care. This was his new favorite thing.

The snuffling turned into soft, quiet cooes and eventually, the baby fell into a fitful sleep, complete with fitful, movement inducing dreams. Tony closed his eyes peacefully, dropping his head back to rest on the arm of the couch, allowing his thumb to stroke the back of his son's fragile neck.

***

Only a month later and ‘Kangaroo Care’, as people called it, had officially became his new go-to move whenever his son was in distress. He hated when Peter would cry. It hurt his ears, and his heart. His attachment to the baby was becoming almost worrying.

Typically, Tony would prefer going through the comforting procedure without an audience, but sometimes he had to set aside his own insecurities and take care of his son, because that was his job now.

So, the first time Pepper had witnessed his impromptu strip, it had taken her by surprise. She had been his PA for a few years at that time, and, yeah, she was somewhat used to his eccentricity already, and she was only slowly getting used to the new addition into the Stark family.

She had been holding the tiny, sleeping infant in her arms, rocking him slowly back and forth in her as she monitored the mundanely slow rising and dropping of SI stocks. Then, out of nowhere, the child jolted awake, with wide, wandering eyes, and had apparently decided to start wailing because of the terrifying transition from dreamland to reality… Pepper didn't know what she was supposed to do, but the boy's father apparently did. Before she even had time to properly react, out came Tony Stark with a stern look on his face, striding towards her with a deep-settled purpose behind his eyes as he reached for the hem of his shirt… what?

Tony had already been heading to the room when he heard it. Peter was crying, and he didn't know how he knew, but he did. He knew exactly what that cry meant.

It was weird. He knew all Peter’s cries now. All of them were different, because his son was already so smart and he always knew what he wanted. Sometimes the boy was hungry, other times he was scared or uncomfortable, and most of the time he just wanted to be held. That was the most common cry he heard out of the boy's small mouth, and that seemed to be the only cry that resulted in him tearing off his shirt without even taking a moment to think about it.

That's why, without a thought or ounce of hesitation in Pepper’s presence, he threw off his shirt, acting on nothing else but the muscle memory he had developed after doing this numerous times since Peter had come into his life.

“Tony,” Pepper spluttered, watching with wide eyes as the man threw his oily t-shirt on the ground and grabbed the blanket slung over the back of the couch he passed along his way of walking towards to her.

He said nothing and barely spared her a glance as he carefully reached for his son cradled in her arms. Then, in one fluid and practiced movement, he removed his sons short sleeved onesie and pulled him against his chest before retreating backwards to the couch.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he cooed softly, slowly lowering them both onto the couch.

A softness Pepper had never seen before lingered behind his eyes while the man affectionately shushed and coddled his newborn son.

Peter's cries almost quieted instantly, and Tony draped the blanket over them and closed his eyes to bask in the peace. When Peter had calmed in a restful sleep again, Tony risked a glance to his right, where Pepper was still seated in the armchair adjacent to the couch, watching the spectacle with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” he apologized to her in a whisper, placing his steady hand over his son's back just as he usually did. “I don't like it when he cries, and this is the quickest way to calm him down.”

Pepper nodded mutely, and she didn't question him, returning her gaze to the currently rising stocks in hopes the man wouldn’t spot her smile and reddened cheeks.

She eventually got used to it, and she didn't even blink an eye anymore when her boss would magically appear in the room whenever and wherever his son started to cry before immediately beginning to strip half naked.

***

Tony remembered vividly the first time he had to leave his son overnight. It had been an irksome farewell for both parties involved. Peter had just turned two and was already beginning to fit together sentences with his limited vocabulary.

“Daddy,” he whined miserably into his father’s shoulder as he hugged him goodbye, “don’ go. P’ease don’ go.”

Tony rubbed his back and pressed a quick kiss to the side of his head, trying not to tear up when he felt a small wet spot start to form on his shoulder.

“I don’t want to bambino,” he whispered softly, breathing in the scent of his son’s familiar, fruity Watermelon shampoo, “but I have to. It’s just for a night.”

“Don’ go,” Peter moaned again in a last ditch attempt to get his father to stay.

Tony hadn’t wanted to go, he really didn't, but he’d been putting off the trip for almost an entire year… and it needed to get done. Though, he would admit, the greeting he received when he returned home was well worth the night’s separation.

“Daddy!” That was the first thing he heard when he opened his front door. He had barely stepped foot into the foyer before Peter was skidding around the corner on wobbly feet and rushing up to his father. His little-boy face contorted into a scarily mortified expression and his mouth fell open to release a loud pitiful wail as soon as he layed eyes on his father, reaching up his tiny arms and waving around his chubby fingers so his father would lift him up.

“Daddy!” He sobbed harshly, filling his father with a worried fear as he reached out to scoop up his son and hold him close. “Oh Daddy!”

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Tony questioned hastily, eager to figure out what was wrong with his son so he could fix it and stop the dreaded tears and sorrowful wails.

“Miss you,” Peter whimpered miserably, going lax in his father’s arm as soon as he was in the familiar hold.

“Aw,” Tony cooed in relief, “I missed you too buddy.”

He slowly rocked his son as the little boy continued to sob softly in his arms. A dopey grin spread across his face and warmth filled his chest as he toed off his shoes by the door. He’d barely even made it a few steps into the Living Room before he felt an insistent tugging at the collar of his crisp, white shirt. Which was followed by several head-buts administered above his collarbone as his son attempted to nuzzle closer.

At first he wasn’t too sure what Peter was asking for, and he should have, but he didn’t. So, Peter continued to tug harshly at the collar fisted in his tiny hand. Irritated grunts and strangled whimpers were let out as he pushed his face away from his father’s chest to tug more aggravatedly at the cloth. Tears streamed down his blotchy cheeks in waves, and Tony started to worry again. Peter rarely got so distressed, but he supposed it might have been an appropriate reaction for the ‘trauma’ he had to endure while being away from his father for the first time.

Then, as if the buildup of frustration for his father’s inability to understand what he wanted, he threw his head back and released a blood-curdling scream. Wailing loudly as he continued to tug at the collar frantically. His grip growing weaker as his efforts to voice his aggravation absorbed his remaining energy.

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, what’s wrong bambino?” He questioned worriedly, dropping onto the couch next to Rhodey, who was seeming to feel just as worried at the child's outburst.

The only answer he received was another pitiful wail followed by violent sobs and more tears.

“I believe Master Peter would like you to re-administer ‘Kangaroo Care’ as the primary form of comfort,” JARVIS announced.

Tony’s eyes widened. He didn’t know how he hadn’t thought of that.

“We haven’t done that in months,” he responded softly, smiling affectionately at his son despite his distressed wails as he reached up to undo his tie.

It warmed his heart all over again, and he purposely ignored his best friend’s knowing grin as he slowly undid the buttons of his shirt. He didn’t even have time to shrug the shirt the rest of the way off before Peter was surging forward and leeching to his father’s front.

The wailing stopped, replaced by soft sobs as Peter pressed his face firmly into his father’s sternum, wrapping his little arms around the man’s waist as he tried to pull himself closer.

“Alright, alright buddy,” Tony laughed, twisting on the couch to slowly lower himself the rest of the way on the couch, “patience.”

It hadn’t even been 10 seconds before Peter started to wriggle uncomfortably atop his chest, face contorting into frustration once again as he started tugging at the hem of his own shirt.

“Want yours off too buddy?” Tony asked softly, reaching up to rub his baby’s back soothingly.

He felt the curt nod and choked sob that followed it. Peter fell limp against him, so Tony reached for the hem of the boy’s shirt to slowly lift it over his head.

“That better?” Tony asked softly, kissing the top of his son’s head as he tossed the small t-shirt to Rhodey sitting at his feet.

“Yeah,” Peter murmured softly, nuzzling close and humming contentedly.

“Miss you Daddy.”

“I missed you too buddy.”

***

Fairly soon after Peter learned to walk and how to break out of his crib, Tony had had to stop wearing shirts to bed.

Peter had developed the tendency to sneak into his room during the night, due to his extreme separation anxiety. The doctor said it should dissipate as he grew older, but still, at three years old, his son continued to climb into his bed nearly twice a week.

The first time he had done it, he nearly had a heart attack right there in his bed. Peter had crawled on top of him, and he was a heavy sleeper so he didn’t even wake until Peter released a distressed wail as he clawed desperately at the form-fitting tank top he had decided to wear to bed. So, to avoid incidents like that again, Tony made the decision to go without it so Peter wouldn’t grow so distressed at his inability to wake him after a bad nightmare.

He had only woke up with Peter sprawled over his chest a few times before he had had to leave him overnight for the first time. Though, after he had returned, Peter’s nightmares and anxiety grew a bit worse, and it wasn’t as much as an unfamiliar surprise when he woke to the toddler nuzzled into his sternum while sucking on his little thumb.

He knew it was probably unhealthy to encourage Peter’s codependency the way he was, but even when he tried convincing the kid to go cold turkey on the ‘Kangaroo Care’, the boy’s lip would wobble pitifully and his breathing would pick up in a panic. Worried he would send his own son into his first panic attack at such a young age, Tony decided to avoid the topic entirely. It wasn’t like he disliked the contact anyways.

***

His first thought when he glanced in the mirror to find a metal magnet embedded in his sternum was a deep-rooted distress, because that was Peter’s place. That was exactly where Peter would lay his head after a bad nightmare or upon his return when an overnight trip was taken by his father. That was Peter’s… That spot had belonged to his son.

He tore at the fabric surrounding it in a panic, willing for it all just to be a terrible, terrible dream. His breaths came in spurts and he knew his eyes were wide and frightened. All he could think about was Peter. How Peter was going to feel when he learned his father wasn’t coming home when promised. How he was going to look when he found that his spot had been replaced by a metallic circle when he tried to nuzzle into his father’s chest on his return… if he ever returned.

That was the only thing that kept him going in that cave. It was Peter. And even though he was dreading having to see the distraught look on his little face, he still needed to get home to him. There were still so many things they needed to do together. So many things he wished to do with him that he had wished to do with his own father as a child. He still needed to teach him how to catch. He still needed to take him to his first day of school, first concert, first sleepover, first day of college. They needed to finish that robot project they started. He needed to be there to trade his first tooth with a quarter. He needed to be there for his first love, so he could comfort him during his first broken heart. He needed to teach him how to shave, how to drive, how to run a company… There were just so many things he needed to do, and Peter was still so young. He couldn’t give up now, he needed to get back to his son.

So, that’s exactly what he did.

His face was stiff as he watched the plane door opened to him, drowning the dark cabin with bright light emitting from the sun, with Rhodey by his side promising him that he’d see Peter soon. He fought the urge to run, because he desperately wanted to see his son, but he didn’t want to see the betrayal his five-year-old son would certainly feel when he realized what was now residing in his father’s chest.

Thankfully, Peter didn’t notice it until later that night, when they were in the privacy of their own home… he had hidden it well thank goodness.

His son was just barely five years old, he knew because he missed his birthday, and the 3 month long separation had seemed to run the boy dry of fresh tears. He simply hugged his father the rest of the day, refusing to let go of him, and completely forgetting about their usual ritual upon a joyously distressing return because of his tired stupor.

Then, that night, he woke up in a panic when he heard the rustling of his sheets while his son climbed onto his bed.

He wasn’t a light sleeper anymore…

“Daddy?” Peter questioned confusedly, pausing at the foot of his bed, eyeing his father warily, because no matter how much noise he would make at night, his father never woke unless he was crying.

“Peter,” Tony breathed out in relief, clutching at his chest and falling back into his pillow as he did his best to absorb the pain spreading across his chest. “What’s wrong? Nightmare?”

Peter didn’t answer, instead, his eyes fixed onto the bright blue light emitting from his father’s bare chest. He crawled forward and straddled the man’s stomach so he could get a better look. He ran a small finger along the outer rim of the magnet and Tony had to choke back the tears as he watched his son study the new implant curiously.

“What’s this Daddy?”

“It’s a magnet,” Tony choked out, “It keeps Daddy’s heart beating from now on.”

He needed Peter to understand. He desperately needed him to understand…

“Oh.” Came his small response as he cocked his head to the side curiously. Tony held his breath.

“Okay,” Peter yawned noncommittally, grinning at his father and collapsing on top of him just as he usually did. Only this time… instead of the comforting warmth, there was a resounding clank and he immediately felt a searing pain along his right cheekbone.

His eyes watered and he sat up to glare at the device offendedly.

“That hurt,” he whined, rubbing at his cheek with a few stubborn tears leaking through.

“Oh, bambino, I’m so sorry.” Tony jumped to apologize, sitting up abruptly and cradling his son’s face in his hands, running his thumb along the red mark lit up by the blue glow of his new RT. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’s ‘kay,” Peter mumbled tiredly, rubbing at his eyes. He pushed at his father’s chest and they both layed down, this time Peter resting his head gently beside the magnet instead of the familiar spot right beneath the center of his collarbone.

It only took a couple more occurences just like that for Tony to start wearing a shirt to bed again. Peter would end up cutting and bruising his cheek or forehead as a result of his Stark stubbornness. Even despite the uncomfortable RT, Peter still wanted to lay his head on his father’s chest, because that’s what he’d always done, ever since he was a baby-baby. So, for a little added cushioning, Tony started to wear soft cotton t-shirts to bed, in hopes it would prevent any future injuries.

He didn’t have to worry very long, because it wasn’t long after that that Peter stopped climbing into his bed at night.

***

Peter was nine when Tony decided to get the arc reactor removed from his chest. The device had proved to be doing more harm to him than good. So, with a lot of stubborn protests on Peter’s part, Tony made the wise decision to remove, what Peter had dubbed from a young age as ‘Daddy’s nightlight’.

Peter was immensely upset when his father explained his decision to him. The arc reactor is what made him Iron Man! It was his nightlight when he was scared of the dark! But he understood why his dad wanted to do what he did, because he could tell it made his dad hurt sometimes.

Tony was five months into recovery when Peter scurried into the Living room, where his father was relaxing, with his head bowed and a cute, pleading expression adorning his face. Tony was lounging with his back pressed against the arm of the couch, his legs stretched out on the cushions in front of him. Peter climbed into his lap, despite the fact that he was ‘too old to sit in your lap Daddy, because I’m a big boy now.’

“What’s up buddy?” Tony questioned worriedly.

“Can-can I see it?” Peter asked hesitantly, reaching out to press down on one of his father’s shirt buttons.

“It’s an ugly scar Peter,” Tony smiled softly, reaching out to comb a hand through the boy’s hair. “Nothing special.”

“I wanna see it,” the boy protested stubbornly, fixing his father with a stern glare and pouting lip.

The man chuckled at his defiance and sighed to himself. He reached up to undo the top three buttons of his button-down, pulling at the edges just enough to reveal the circlish scar that had replaced the reactor implant.

Peter studied it intently for a moment, reaching out to trace the defined scar tissue outlining a circle. He looked worried.

“Does-does it hurt?”

“No buddy, it doesn’t hurt.” Tony reassured him quickly, releasing his shirt to cup the side of his son’s face with his hand. “I’m fine, I promise.”

Peter bites his lip and nods his head, obviously upset, but his gaze doesn’t break away from the nasty scar the procedure had left behind as a reminder of the genius’ trama.

Tony frowned. He never like it when his son was upset.

“You know,” he mused with a hum; he needed to make Peter smile again, because that was his job. Peter’s eyes met his briefly before falling back to the man’s chest. “When you were just a little baby, you used to lay your head right here all the time.” He points to the center of scar, right above his sternum.

“Yeah?” Peter smiled shyly, looking up at his father.

“Yeah,” Tony affirmed with a small grin. “It was sorta like our thing ever since you were a teeny tiny baby, you can ask Pepper. I’d hear you screaming your little heart out and I’d just waltz in the room, throw my shirt off and put you on my chest. You’d stop crying every time.” Tony bopped Peter on the nose good naturedly.

“Really?” Peter’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Every time?”

Tony nodded with a peaceful smile adorning his face.

“Every single time bambino. I even remember when you were two and I thought you were completely over cuddling with me… then, I had to leave for just a day, Peter. A day. My goodness, you were such a dramatic little thing,” Tony rolled his eyes good naturedly and Peter giggled. “Yep, I waltzed in the door the next day and the minute you saw me you started screaming and sobbing until I layed down with you on the couch just like this, and you stopped.” He finished with a dramatic raise of his brows and widened eyes. “You can ask Uncle Rhodey, I swear it.”

Peter giggled again, and Tony smiled lovingly at his son, because he wanted to cherish every single moment he had with him before he grew up anymore than he already had.

Then Peter pressed his hand flat on his father’s chest, right over the scar, and stared at it curiously. A meaningful silence fell over the pair, and Tony settled for watching over his son while he studied the center of his chest with a considering quirk to his brow. Then, slowly, Peter seemed to make up his mind. He lowered his head and replaced his hand with his left cheek, closing his eyes contentedly as he molded against his father with a warm familiarity blooming in his stomach.

“Just like this Daddy?” Peter questioned timidly, reaching out in search of his father’s large hand.

“Yeah,” Tony choked out through his tears, placing his other hand on his boy’s back. “Just like that Pete.”

The boy’s fingers curled around his large thumb and Tony felt a puff of breath whisp over his bare chest. His heart stuttered and he breathed out shakily as his right hand moved up to curl into his son’s hair.

“I love you so much bambino. You’ll always be my baby, no matter how old you get.” He closed his eyes and pressed his face firmly into his son’s unruly curls.

“I know Daddy.”

I had this idea suddenly last night and I just HAD to write it. I hope ya’ll enjoyed it. I’m really getting into this IronDad Bingo thing lol. @irondadbingo thx for the bingo card again!

#irondad #irondad fic #tony stark is a softie #tony stark is sensitive #peter parker loves his dad #peter parker is tony's biological son #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #parent tony #soft tony #clingy peter #kangaroo care #caring tony #dad tony stark #codependency

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bi-bi-want-dragon · 5 years

Text

The New Ruff

(Meet the Ingermans Chapter 2)

FF.net | AO3

Goodness gracious this took so much longer than I planned because I accidentally wrote the entire evolution of Fishlegs and Ruffnut’s relationship in the middle of it whoops but here it is! @myalmonddreamllama I hope this is what you were hoping for!

Also if anyone is interested in the relationship evolution I might be posting that too :)

This is a continuation of my oneshot Brothers for context.

(Ruffnut and Fishlegs are around 27 years old if anyone is curious)

Ruffnut watched as Hiccup carried his daughter up the stairs to see Astrid and the new baby. The way Zephyr looked up at her father with trust and confidence. The way Hiccup lovingly smiled down at her and held her close. The way the two naturally knew how to interact and hold each other. They disappeared into the second floor, leaving Ruffnut by herself in the Chief’s sitting room. Her mind drifted to Fishlegs, imagining what it would be like if he carried their own daughter up the stairs, telling her tales of dragons and far-off enemies and his beloved Meatlug.

When her head caught up with her thoughts, she realized she had never thought of herself as a mother before. She knew Fishlegs wanted children, but she also knew he didn’t push the subject because he was aware of her thoughts on the matter. But seeing how happy Hiccup was with his daughter, how excited he was to have a son, she realized she wanted to see that joy in Fishlegs as well.

The only question is, did she want to give Fishlegs a child more than she didn’t want to be a mother?

The question baffled her as she stood and walked out the front door. Ruffnut, considering motherhood? What has the world come to!

She always knew Fishlegs would be a great father. After all, he naturally became a teacher, both official and unofficial, to the young ones in the village. And he taught them everything. It was obvious which children valued the lessons because they flocked at his feet and followed him all day long through the village, hungry for information on anything he was willing to share. Zephyr was one of them, when she wasn’t with her father. Ruffnut could recall numerous days over the past year where Hiccup would swing by in the morning with the little girl, an apologetic look on his face when he said she begged to stay with “Uncle Fishy” instead of Grandma for the day.

Fishlegs, of course, was the happiest on those days. Yes, he loved teaching all of the children, but he of course had a much more special bond with his niece, carrying her around on his hip all day and teaching her all kinds of things in ways a toddler would easily understand. Not because she was the Chief’s daughter, but because he was his best friend’s daughter. And since he and Ruffnut didn’t have kids of their own, Fishlegs tended to spill that fatherly love over Zephyr instead.

To be fair, this isn’t the first time Ruffnut had thought Fishlegs should have kids, even since their marriage. This was, however, the first time she didn’t immediately dismiss the fact after realizing she would have to be the one to bear those children. Something about her interaction with Zephyr earlier today made her rethink the issue. The way Zephyr immediately trusted Ruffnut just because Hiccup referred to her as Zephyr’s aunt. The way she thanked Ruffnut for being with her through a hard time and trying her best to comfort her even though Ruffnut was awful at it. It was a much different bond than Ruffnut had experienced with anyone before. Different than any friendship or partnership or relationship. Different than her experience with Fishlegs or her own parents. Different than that with her own brother.

Different didn’t always excite Ruffnut. Not in this sense, at least.

Ruffnut didn’t realize she had made it home until she felt the cool metal of the doorknob in her hand, instinctively reaching to open the door. She looked up into the sky, worried that Fishlegs might be home for lunch due to the high positioning of the sun.

She turned the knob and cracked open the door. She knew he was in fact home when the clanging of a wooden spoon against a metal pot reached her ears. Oh boy, here we go.

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, walking in to face her husband who had no idea of the ongoing battle in her mind. At the sound of her footsteps, Fishlegs turned his head and flashed a bright smile. “Welcome home, my queen. You’re back much earlier than I thought. What did Hiccup need?”

Ruffnut felt the swell of warmth engulf her chest that she had grown accustomed to at the loving welcome from her husband. The kind of swell that only her husband could make her feel, and she loved every minute of it. “Astrid went into labor apparently. He wanted me to sit with Zephyr.”

Fishlegs’ brow furrowed in concern as he watched his wife walk fully in the door and sit down at their small table. “Labor? She’s not far enough along for that, is she?”

Ruffnut shook her head. “Nope. She had that kid out in no time, too. But I guess everything’s okay. I doubt Hiccup would’ve been so happy if something was wrong.”

Fishlegs nodded his head and turned back to the stew that Ruffnut knew didn’t need so much attention. It was the same stew they had last night for dinner; it only had to be heated. “Well that’s good. I know he was excited about having another baby.”

Ruffnut looked up at her husband, who was avoiding eye contact with her. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands fidgeting on the table, guilt clenching her heart. Hiccup was very happy about the second baby, and seeing his face light up like she’d never seen before made Ruffnut long to see such happiness on her own husband’s face.

She wanted it. She wanted it so much more than not wanting kids. Just the thought of the happiness and fulfillment she knew Fishlegs would get from it made the latter entirely irrelevant. And sure, after her morning with Zephyr, she knew she would probably feel the same. But the fact that pushed her over the edge was her husband’s feelings.

She took a deep breath, still looking at her hands. “You know... We’ve been married almost three years now.”

Fishlegs was confused by the sudden shift in the conversation. “Yeah, in two moons’ time.”

When she didn’t say anything else, he turned to find her nervously bouncing her leg and looking at her fingers as she picked at the skin around her nail bed. He watched her for a while, but just as he was about to ask why she was so nervous, she spoke again. “Most, uh... Most couples have their first kid in the first year after they marry.”

Fishlegs was stunned into silence. Ruffnut sort of expected that, so she just kept her focus on her hands, trying to slow the bouncing in her leg.

He spoke sooner than she anticipated. “I thought you didn’t want to have kids.”

Ruffnut’s leg slowed to a stop as she looked up at her husband, expression remaining deadpan as she looked into his shocked one. “I thought you did.”

He just blinked back at her for a moment. “I... I thought... You didn’t...”

“But you do,” she repeated. “Don’t you?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed it again.

Ruffnut sighed internally, growing frustrated. “Babe, please, just be honest with me.”

He opened his mouth again, but still didn’t reply. She raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Just say it, babe, I already know the answer.”

“Then why do you need me to say it?”

“Because I need to hear it.”

He considered for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as if in pain. He looked back at the forgotten stew just for something else to look at aside from his wife’s accusational glare. “Yeah. Yeah, it’d be nice to have a baby of our own.”

Ruffnut nodded, satisfied to finally hear him admit it. The couple had avoided the subject for years, understanding long before their wedding that they wanted different things. And at the time, they were fine with that.

At the time.

He continued, the guilt burrowing a hole in his heart. “But, sweetheart, that doesn’t mean we have t-”

“I want to have a baby.”

Ruffnut and Fishlegs stared at each other, neither one able to read the other’s expression, and neither wanted to be the first to break the silence. And so they remained like that, completely still, no sound filling the room but the occasional crack of the fire.

Fishlegs was the first to resurface. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet and exasperated.

Ruffnut opened her mouth only to close it before repeating her words. “I... I think we should have a baby. I want to give you a baby.”

Fishlegs stood slowly, crossing the distance between him and his wife. His eyes never left hers as he sat in a chair beside her, folding his hands over her own that were now again perched on the table. He gave them a gentle squeeze. “Sweetie... You don’t have to do this for me, you’re enough. I love you, I don’t need kids.”

“But you want them. And I want you to have them. Or at least one.” She kept her eyes locked onto his, enforcing she was serious about this and not backing down.

“I don’t want to make you do this just for me. I’d never forgive myself.” Tears began welling up in his eyes, and Ruffnut’s heart broke.

She refused to back down as tears began to cloud her vision as well. “You’re not making me. I’m the one suggesting it. I want to do this.”

He shook his head, now speechless.

She stood and motioned for him to scoot back from the table. He obliged, and she sat on his lap and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck like they always do. She cupped her hands around his cheeks, brushing her lips against his forehead before leaning her own against the spot she just kissed. “Please, let me do this for you. I want to have kids with you.”

Fishlegs chuckled. “You’ll never have to convince me to try to get you pregnant,” he joked. But then he turned serious again. “I just don’t want you to do this unless you’re absolutely comfortable with it. If you don’t want kids, we won’t have kids.”

She smiled and brushed her lips against his, lingering until she felt his heart quicken beneath her hand on his chest. “I want to.”

He pulled back just enough to clearly see her face. “You promise me this is truly what you want? That you’re not just saying all this because you know it’s what I want to hear? Promise?”

She smiled easily. “I promise.”

The smile that then overtook her husband’s face was enough to supply her with happiness to Valhalla and beyond. She was afraid her heart would burst as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight to his chest. “Oh Thor, we’re actually going to have a baby,” he shrieked in excitement.

Oh Thor indeed, Ruffnut thought to herself. But if she was being honest, she was just as excited as her husband. And it was quite easy for them in all the excitement to try for the first time right away, not even making it out of the kitchen.

#meet the ingermans #httyd 2 #httyd #httyd 3 #post httyd 3 #fishlegs #fishlegs ingerman #ruffnut #ruffnut thorston #ruffnut ingerman #rufflegs #fishnut #fanfic #randis fics

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serbarris · 5 years

Photo

Faralen Sabrae, Ambassador

Nickname: Rae

Reason for name: Faralen means “hunting star” she has loads of tiny freckles so they’re like stars

Birthday: 8th Bloomingtide

Race: Dalish Elf

Age: 29

Gender: Female

Place of birth: near Gwaren

Places lived since: Brecilian forest, Sundermount, Amaranthine, Emerald Graves

Parents’ names, backgrounds, occupations: Faralen’s father, Eladd was the healer under Keeper Mahariel and Marethari, but unfortunately passed in 9:27 Dragon. Her mother, Varliss, is an apothecary for the Sabrae clan.

Number of siblings: Eilan is her adopted brother, they consider Tamlen an honourary member of their family

Relationship with family : Very good relationship with her father

Happiest memory: Faralen used to hurt herself a lot as a child and her dad was Second under keeper Mahariel, he used to always heal her using his magic, telling her to be more careful next time, to which she always replied “i dont have to be careful you’ll always be here to heal me” and he would make it snow a little bit in the room and she loved it so much

Childhood trauma: The death of her father when she was 15 was very traumatic, but also when she was around 18 Tamlen and Eilan went to the ancient ruins and found the tainted Eluvian, she knew of her friend’s excursion and she went to find them.

Children of her own?: Yes 4

If so, relationship with their father?: Faralen and Vaimah started on a very tense relationship, they were both very solitary. They knew of each other through mutual friend Eilan Mahariel, though after he and Tamlen died in the ancient ruins, Vaimah and Faralen looked out for each other. They slowly but surely relied on each other more than they could realise, grew very close, and fell in love (even if Faralen didn’t realise at the time). They have a very good relationship now, and Vaimah is a constant reminder for Faralen to voice her feelings and they tend to balance each other out nicely.

Age she became a mother: 31 when Caeren was born, 34 when Amoran was born and 38 when the twins; Linneth and Oronth were born

PERSONALITY

Positive Personality Traits: She loves her Clan dearly, protective, loyal, honest, selfless

Negative Personality Traits: Very reckless, short-sighted, ruthless, short-tempered

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

MBTI Type: INFP

Interests: Berries, dalish history,

Mood Character is Most in: wistful

How does your character deal with being afraid?: not very well tbh, she mostly lashes out

Any reoccurring nightmares?: Mainly nightmares thinking about what happened to Tamlen and Eilan, later on, dreams about what happened to Vaimah while he was missing

When are they most in their element?: in the middle of a fight

What do they have a soft spot for?: Literally Vaimah, also children

What events have had the most impact on her life?: Tamlen and Eilan dying and the Blight which prompted her obsession with becoming a good warrior/hunter, leading to her becoming Warleader of the clan.

Enraged When?: 90% of the time

Greatest Strength?: Pride

Greatest Weakness?: Her pride

Biggest regret: she didnt outright stop Tamlen an Eilan from going to the Ruins, as well as not realising the depth of her feelings for Vaimah, and voicing them before the Conclave and his memory loss.

PHYSICAL

Height: 5′2

Weight: idk

Build: lean

Nationality: Ferelden

Disabilities: none

Complexion : olive, freckly af

Face shape: heart

Distinguishing facial features: freckles, and scars around her temple and on her nose and lips are very prominent

Hair colour: Auburn

Usual hair style: cut short, side part,

Eye colour: Green

Glasses? Contacts?: nope

Style of dress/typical outfit(s): casual easy to move around in clothes, she doesnt like to be restricted in her movements, she wears tough leathers when in battle

Typical style of shoes: lightweight resilient boots

Health (is this person usually sick? or very resilient?): healthy

Grooming (does she/he wear makeup? shower daily? wear only clean clothes? pluck her eyebrows?): Faralen does prefer to be clean, but when living in nature you can be lucky to find a very clean stream, she does wear eye makeup as it makes her eyes stand out more

Jewellery? Tattoos? Piercings?: .Andruil’s Vallaslin (variation)

Accent?: tiny welsh valley lady

Unique mannerisms/physical habits (bites nails, talks with hands, taps feet when restless): she definitely has resting bitch face, also talks with her hands a lot

Athletic?: very

INTELLECT

Level of education: relatively poor, she is illiterate

Level of self esteem: Quite high after becoming the de facto leader of the clan, it definitely allowed her to get more confidence

Gifts/talents: skinning an animal in like 12 seconds

Shortcomings: She makes some very questionable moral decisions

Style of speech (loud, mumbler, articulate, etc.): clear and blunt

“Left brain” or “right brain” thinker?: right

Artistic?: if stick figures count

Mathematical?: Nope

Makes decisions based mostly on emotions, or on logic?: emotions but she thinks its logic

Religious stance: Believes in the Dalish Pantheon

Cautious or daring?: Daring

Most sensitive about/vulnerable to: Vulnerable to attacks on her culture, and no matter how pissed she was at Vaimah while he had amnesia she would often threaten any attacks on his abilities due to his health

Optimist or pessimist?: Pessimist

Extrovert or introvert?: Introvert

RELATIONSHIPS

Current marital/relationship status: Officially bonded with Vaimah in 9:43 Dragon

Sexual orientation: Bi

Past relationships: none before Vaimah

Primary reason for relationship ending: n/a

Level of sexual experience: n/a

Story of first kiss: Vaimah’s memories had slowly started to return after going into the Fade and being reunited with Faralen. After her very angry confession during an argument the air had cleared between them. They then started to get back into their old flow and they were in the Herald’s Rest one night and they get tipsy and say fuck it.

Story of loss of virginity: Her and Vaimah wait a while, they go at it before the final attack on Corypheus in case the worst was to happen, but Faralen was so nervous and Vaimah had to reassure her it was just him there was nothing to worry about

A social person? : can be when in the mood

Most comfortable around (person): Vaimah

Oldest friend: Tamlen and Eilan, until they y’know died

VOCATION

Profession: Dalish Ambassador to the Inquisition, Leader of the Sabrae Clan

Past occupations: Leader of Sabrae clan forces, hunter

Passions: cleaning and sharpening her weapons get the glow on

Attitude towards current job: helping to save the world with the man you love who barely remembers you is a bit stressful

SECRETS

Phobias: moths

Life Goals: Don’t die

Dreams: To just live a simple life, settle down, get out of the action.

Greatest fears: Putting the clan in danger, she really fears that they (still) don’t accept her as a slightly unconventional leader due to her not being a mage

Most ashamed of: The fact she loves those tiny little Orlaisian finger food things that Vaimah hates

Compulsions: double triple quadrupole checking everything and anything

Obsessions: berries also vol-au-vents

Secret Hobbies: making daisy chains and little crafts from twigs and leaves etc

Secret skills: being able to skin most animals in around 30 seconds

Crimes committed (and was he/she caught? charged?): not yet

DETAILS/QUIRKS

Light or heavy sleeper?: very heavy

Lefty or righty?: neither, she is illiterate and learned to use weapons with both hands so she has no preference

Favorite colour: Green

Cusser?: Yep

Smoker? Drinker? Drug user?: not for the most part, socially drinks

Faralen full biography | Vaimah’s Character Profile

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #oc: faralen #i love her!!!!!#if oyu click her name at the tp it takes you to her full biography #mine #oc: vaimah #oc: eladd #oc: varliss #oc: eilan

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ofaurcra · 5 years

Text

TASK #001: EXTRA, EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT IT.

GENERAL INFO

full name: CHIURA AZAMI nickname(s): AZA, MIMI, AMI gender & pronouns: SHE/HER sexual & romantic orientation: BISEXUAL & BIROMANTIC age & dob: 22, 9TH NOVEMBER 1996 birthplace/hometown: YOKOHAMA, JAPAN parents/siblings: CHIURA AKEMI (MOTHER) & CHIURA TATSUYA (FATHER), AZA ALSO HAS A SIMILARLY AGED BROTHER. pet(s): TONKINESE CAT (KIMURA) (X) & SINGAPURA KITTEN (ROMI) (X) astrological sign: SCORPIO dominant hand: LEFT handwriting style: neat, small & cursive (very pronounced swirls joining letters or flicking them off) language(s) known/spoken: JAPANESE, KOREAN, ENGLISH, FRENCH religion: AGNOSTIC current living arrangements: OWNS HER OWN UPTOWN STUDIO APARTMENT occupation/major: FASHION DESIGN AND FLOWER SHOP MANAGER

PHYSICAL

picture reference: (X) blood type: AB+ nationality: japanese skin tone/color: honeyed glow birthmarks & scars: birthmark on her neck and one behind her ear, they’re usually a very pale beige and she has a scar located on her pelvis from being shoved into a brick wall when younger and scraping across the skin. height: 5′4 build: petite but athletically toned allowing for surprising strength hair color: platinum blonde currently, silvery tonage hair length: (X), (X) her hair is currently this length and style eye color: naturally rich chocolate brown but she’s taken to wearing jade hued contacts more recently. diet: healthy and balanced but she isn’t overly worried over it, she quite likes her salads and all her fruits anyway and will happily choose them over sugary snacks. the only time she really binge eats is on her patisserie visits, if she has people over for breakfast (cause she goes all out she is an extra bitch) or if she’s having a movie night with friends. exercise & level of fitness: she tends to swim and run a lot but is more prone to relaxing exercises which help the mind and body like yoga and meditation, she’s very flexible and used to do gymnastics too. but in general she gets the recommended amount of aerobic activity recommended for healthy adults. how’s their posture ( or lack thereof )?: she usually stands very upright, with her chin in the air so her posture is really good and she often has her arms crossed if she’s being all ‘business workaholic’ aza but if she’s being more relaxed and casual she tends to slant one leg out more and jut the knee with a hand usually resting on her right hip. typical style of dress: (x), (x), (x), (x), (x),(x) body modifications: (x) - this tattoo can be located on aza’s index finger, (x) - this tattoo is located on aza’s back lying just above where her bra strap would sit, (x) (x) - the first image references the design of this tattoo and the second shows the location being just beneath the breast and across the ribcage, it is a tiny tattoo that she shares with ( @sunsbloom) signifying her bond with ivy and referencing the shared zodiac of scorpio between them. (x) - this tattoo can be located behind aza’s left ear. (x) (x) - both these finger tattoos can be located in the places on the images. (x) - this tattoo is dedicated to her brother and can be found on her inner thigh but it is incredibly tiny. (x), (x), (x), (x) - these ones are located in the same places as they are on the images. what can be noticed is that aza has a surprising amount of tattoo’s yes but all are tiny designs and usually incorporate floral elements because she feels such an affliction for flowers, she also prefers to use white ink or red where she can if it works stylistically. finally, she’s hoping to get these (x) with america squad ( @hijinae, @ofdaeseong) as a tribute to their friendship.

MANNERISMS

how does your muse walk?: it’s a bit of a sashay when she’s in the mindframe of getting things done with a lot of hip swinging and fast pace, its not an intentional boss bitch walk but it happens naturally when she’s in a rush. if she isn’t stressed or busy then her walk becomes more of a peaceful and slow paced saunter where she appears to admire or take in her surroundings a little more and get a little zoned out. how does your muse talk?: aza has a delicate and gentle voice, it’s soft and comforting but it’s not quiet at all, she talks clearly and with confidence and when in a position of leadership she can project it without issue. it tends to sound like she’s drawling out words when she’s with those she is comfortable with in a somewhat unintentionally seductive way. she just has a sexy voice asfhfh what can u do. what does their laugh sound like?: twinkly, it comes out in quiet and soft peels and is more akin to a giggle, it kind of lingers in the room long after she’s finished because her laughter is usually short when its genuine as well. how does your muse typically smell?: she favors fruity perfumes which aren’t overpowering but strong enough to catch on the breeze when she moves her hair or embraces someone so scents like patchouli, musk, white amber, grapefruit, wild berries, caramel, praline, jasmine, freesia, peony and pomegranate are some of her favorites. what kind of air do they carry?: somewhat regal, a don’t fuck with me vibe like she’s always sizing you up and knows your next move before even you do to strangers. to friends she’s like a strict but overly affectionate mom. do they have a(ny) catchphrase(s)?: as the legend ariana once said ain’t you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch. what are their nervous ticks?: she runs her hands through her hair a lot, like frequently in a matter of seconds or minutes and pushes it back a lot haphazardly, she also bites her lip or chews things more when stressed.

PSYCHOLOGY

what makes your muse happiest?: spending time with the america squad or ivy since those are her bestest friends, in the past phone calls with her brother really lifted her spirits when she was struggling but its been a while since she’s had one, going out for coffee or picnics in the summer. what upsets them the most?: liars and hypocrites, in general but especially in family dynamics she cannot stand parents who have children and then don’t love them unconditionally as a parent is expected to. she’ll flare up if her friends have family issues and she sees their parents talking down to them automatically because she knows what that feels like and most of the time in her experience with rich upbringing the parents aren’t so perfect either. what are their hobbies? how frequent do/can they do them?: she likes to sketch when designing her fashion and she’s pretty good at painting, likes exploring fashion or art museums and exhibits, likes finding new cafes and quiet restaurants or patisseries for hangout spots, loves spending time in botanical gardens and at the library reading. she’s a bit of an adventurer by nature she just loves to be going places but more quiet hobbies are things like baking, journalism and a bit of blogging. do they have any guilty pleasures?: other than food not really but aza does occasionally enjoy to socially smoke if she goes out partying. she’ll also deny it to all hell and back because sorbet is healthier but she could eat five tubs of ice cream in one evening. is your muse an extrovert or an introvert? neither?: she funnily enough is sort of both, i would say she is more extroverted now because circumstances have definitely forced her to be so if she isn’t working one of her many diverse jobs she is going out and exploring but she used to be a huge introvert. and if there is one sign of rain find her under a duvet with hot cocoa sleeping the day away and marathoning on netflix. do they have high or low self-esteem? what about confidence?: she loves herself what more can i say. she doesn’t believe in vanity she thinks its important to be in love with yourself and i would say her self love comes from a place where it is well earned because she definitely struggled with low self esteem and confidence issues in the past being so silenced and controlled by her father. are they easily stressed and how do they normally respond to it?: definitely, if you worked the way aza does you would be as well. it doesn’t help she’s prone to anxiety attacks from stress so she doesn’t respond very well. if its a minimal amount she can be alright, she tends to just walk away and take a break until her head is clear but sometimes if she is overwhelmed she’ll just break down and cry over the smallest things and shut down on herself, going quiet and unresponsive, she tends to get shaky and her breathing worsens. what is your muses worst fear?: following in her parents footsteps and one day being a neglectful parent, she hates the idea of letting anyone down especially her own potential family. what is your muses biggest dream?: making it as a fashion designer i suppose, she doesn’t want fame especially after seeing how it made her family act with people due to their empire and riches but she wants to live comfortably and be able to show her talents and fresh perspective off more. is your muse a morning person or a night dragon?: definitely a night dragon but she tries to go to bed and get up at the same time when she can because its supposedly healthier to have a routine. how intelligent is your muse? do they acknowledge it?: aza is very cultured and i would say she has a philosophical and extremely open mind. her intelligence is one of the kinds where it is more of wisdom than it is scientific and factual or academic alone. though she did incredibly well with her grades academically she’s still god awful at maths and will not engage with it. describe their sense of humor: dry witted, sarcastic, sometimes dark, crude.

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES

are they currently in any sexual or romantic relationships?: there aren’t any plotted out for aza yet (but like pls do come love her down) but knowing her anyway i’m just going to say she probably is in sexual relationships because aza is prone to having flings. what is their experience with relationships?: OOF its not great, mostly negative since her life has became more stable in daegu she’s slowly starting to feel and receive and learn how to allow herself for healthy ones but in the past she had a lot of fucked up ones due to miscommunication and her fear of commitment primarily. how does your muse view the idea of friends with benefits? have they ever had one? would they ever?: yes yes and yes. BUT aza is way more cautious about it because she’s very aware that usually its a one sided kind of fun where one person ends up falling harder than the other and being hurt. how important is sex to your muse?: i want to say she isn’t that shallow and it isn’t important but... it is, i think for aza its a way to feel things and immerse herself in those emotions without having to feel vulnerable at all but at the same time that only applies to good sexual partners. if not aza thinks sex is just...average at best, its not bad and its not mindblowingly good its just kind of nice for a while and then its done. what are their biggest turn on and turn offs?: OH LAWD, okay well turn on’s: neck biting, choking, broad physique, a lil bit of manhandling like yes slam her against the door and yes pin her down to the table and yes you can lift her and push her on the counter. turn offs: anything too weird like foot fetishes or watersports or something and doNT for the love of god pls don’t ever spank her, she will freak out, spankings are triggers for her big time. does your muse find it easy to make friends?: yeah i mean azami is pretty agreeable, she gets along with basically everyone. its hard for her to have enemies although she may have healthy rivals and frenemies there is never truly really any bad blood between azami and others. she likes to work through the kinks in relationships and she’s stubborn so she won’t give up on people without one hell of a fight. she even tends to stay friends with her ex’s because in her eyes they should be adult and able to wish each other well in their lives and be happy for one another without tension or awkwardness. how important is friendship to them?: considering that for aza her friends have been like her found and chosen family and her only real soulmate connection that runs truly deep in this world is ivy emotionally speaking i think friendship is the most important thing in the world to azami. quantity or quality of friends?: 100% quality of friends how important is family?: suprisingly although azami’s family are trash and can rot she does find them important and she always will love them and she always will wish that her dad was proud of her. also even though she hates that her brother kind of shadows her and makes bad choices bc of it and she shoulders the blame a lot of the time he is the center of her world and she would do anything for him. she hates the fact she couldn’t be there for him the way she wanted growing up and protect him as much as she’d have liked are they close to their family? why or why not ?: hnhh i mean this one is obvious but no she isn’t close to her family. she did not fit the mold of prim and perfect princess who does as daddy says and knows her place without question even if its wrong. her mother simply shut her out as a way to cope with the fact aza wouldn’t pretend like she would. its also to do with the fact that she had aza far too young and didn’t get a chance to live her own life as she constantly made sacrifices for her and to keep the family together but aza doesn’t know so much about all of that.

FAVORITES

activity: reading animal: cats and she likes chinchilla’s beverage: strawberry smoothies and vanilla and honey milkshakes book: milk and honey by rupi kaur color: pastel pink and mustard yellow designer: ralph laurent food: coq au vin and churro’s flower: wisteria gem: garnet holiday: valentines mode of transportation: car or cycling movie: burlesque musical artist: lana del rey quote / saying: l'avoir c'est avoir les étoiles scenery: starry nights in flower covered fields, bright days in quiet secluded peach orchards and strawberry farms. scent: jasmine weather: sunny but with a light breeze vacation destination: bali

ATTITUDES

greatest dream: fashion designer of haut couture dresses greatest fear: letting down her family and loved ones most at ease when: in a quiet cafe getting work done, having a movie night cuddled up with jinae,dae and the cats, shopping and spending time with ivy doing anything really, looking at art or reading poetry in the sunshine. least as ease when: facing unwanted advances, having phone calls with her family, facing a tight deadline with a heavy workload. worst possible thing that could happen: losing the opportunity to be a parent because she’s too afraid of messing her kids up the way she was and losing the chance to be happily married and living alone forever because she can’t open up to someone on that level of vulnerability. biggest achievement: modelling for some lesser known brands and being included in photography shootings for freelance friends. opening up her flower shop and balancing two other jobs as well as her education. being invited to attend some fashion shows by having some designer connections biggest secret: azami doesn’t really like to keep secrets so there isn’t anything scandalous other than the fact that at one point when she was younger she had a slight crush on dae and if anything that’s just laughable to them now so she doesn’t really give it much thought. top priorities: work, coming up with new innovative and fresh ideas for all of her work and not only dedicating herself to her study of and love of fashion, making time for her friends no matter how busy she gets, remembering to go easy on herself and allow herself to take breaks and vacations.

#daegu:task #if u read all of this god bless u and ur crops may u have a fruitful harvest

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kumkaniudaku · 6 years

Text

In The Act

Chadwick Boseman x CoCo (Black!Reader)

Warnings: Smut, Language

Micah Noelle Boseman was the light of Chadwick and Tasha’s life and the most beautiful thing to emerge from their marriage. Tasha’s earliest memories start at the day she found out that her baby girl existed. She and Chadwick were visiting his parents in South Carolina when the first bout of morning nausea attacked. Standing in his parents’ kitchen, Tasha was helping his mother prepare mac & cheese for the weekly Sunday dinner when she felt her body rise to a temperature that surpassed the sweltering Southern heat. Without notice, her breakfast flew upwards, only stopping when her hands flew to cover her mouth. Tasha had been nauseous before but never without cause. She hadn’t been drinking and there was no way she had food poisoning when everyone had the same breakfast and seemed to be just fine.

Chadwick’s mom was the first to suspect pregnancy.

“Have you had your cycle?” She questioned knowingly from the other side of the bathroom door. Though Tasha immediately pushed the thought from her mind, a quiet check of her period tracker revealed that she wasn’t just a few days late. No, it had been six weeks with no evidence of nature taking its course.

An immediate trip to her doctor once Tasha returned to Los Angeles confirmed her suspicion: she was nearly two months pregnant and scared out of her mind. She couldn’t be someone’s mom. She had just figured out how to be a wife and, sometimes, she didn’t even know if you was succeeding in that department.

Chadwick felt differently.

“Is this true, CoCo?” He asked, staring wide-eyed at the results in his hand.

Tasha could only offer a small nod in response. She expected him to be wary of the possibility of having children. The tears in his eyes added to her anxiety. They had recently finished couples therapy and were actively trying to repair the 20 years of damage that preceded the current relationship.

“Chadwick if this isn’t what you want we can find another solution.” Tasha’s words were hurried as if she was trying to make her point before he made an angry exit. “I’m sorry. We should’ve discussed contraception or something.”

“You’re sorry? Baby, this amazing. I’m gonna be a daddy!”

Seven months and 11 hours of labor later, Tasha lay in a hospital bed holding a baby girl to her chest trying not let tears fall all over Micah’s delicate skin. And, though she had expressed her hatred toward Chadwick for putting her in a situation to bear the pain of childbirth hours prior to delivery, she couldn’t help but to love the man that had shared half of him to make such a beautiful manifestation of the love that lived within their home.

Tasha felt her heart swell as she listened to their daughter squeal and giggle in the other room with her father, despite it being her bedtime and the first scheduled mommy-daddy time all week. Individual work schedules, household duties made scheduling alone time difficult for the young couple. Chad’s need to have her sleep in your shared bed almost every night slowly dried up any opportunity for physical contact. Tasha tried to explain that she would never get used to sleeping alone if he didn’t stop, but he’d excuse the behavior, passing the intrusion off as a good bonding experience. He hated seeing Micah in tears at the end of the night when it was time to put the toys away and crawl into bed.

Finally, the laughter stopped and the soft click of Micah’s bedroom door was heard before heavy footsteps started up the hallway.

“Do I get to see my husband or are you going back to your other wife in a moment?” Tasha joked from behind the kitchen counter while she carefully emptied fresh popcorn into a bowl.

Chadwick chuckled at his wife’s attempt to hide her need for attention. He found it endearing, knowing that she still wanted to be the center of his attention, if only for a night while watching television.

“Ooh, someone’s jealous.” He teased before Tasha could protest his arms wrapping around her torso for a hug. He made a point to press himself against her back and squeeze her tight, demonstrating his desires for having her close. “Don’t be, Mama. Daddy’s all yours now.”

A slow kiss to her bare collar bone was nearly enough to make Tasha pull her husband to the cold tile floor and neglect the Game of Thrones marathon cued in the living room.

Shaking the urge, she shook her head. “Then Daddy needs to grab the popcorn and get to the couch. Battle of the Bastards is next and you know that’s my favorite episode.”

Tasha slowly and reluctantly pried Chadwick’s arms away from her body in an attempt to calm down the heartbeat between her legs. Tonight was solely about husband and wife spending time together. They could always squeeze in a quickie during nap time or in the shower before Tasha was due to work, but true, uninterrupted quality time was rare.

Rolling his eyes at Tasha’s attitude, Chad grabbed the large plastic bowl from the counter to fulfill her request. They crowded onto the corner of the living room sectional, contorting their bodies until they reached a compromise. Tasha lay propped against a pillow with outstretched arm to welcomed Chadwick into her personal space. He accepted the invitation without pause and carefully lowered himself, stomach first, onto her body.

While Tasha devoted her attention to the medieval drama on screen, Chadwick focused on trailing his fingers up, down and around the various valleys and peaks in his view. On the way up her sides, he noticed the thin camisole that covered CoCo’s breast, and felt his body heat at the vision of her nipples straining against the fabric.

Just as the opening theme could give way to the beginning of the show, Chadwick began absentmindedly running his hand along the swell of Tasha’s breasts.

“We’re supposed to be relaxing.” She warned as she halfheartedly pushed his hand away.

“I am relaxing. You relax your way and I’ll relax mine.”

Deciding that his fondling was harmless, she continued to focus on the episode. As the action intensified, so did Chadwick’s antics. The hands that were once on the outside of CoCo’s tank top had made their way underneath, cupping and squeezing while alternating sides. He wasn’t searching for her attention, but he’d captured it nonetheless.

“It’s good to know that murder and devastation excite you,” she quipped, a slight smirk on her lips as she cast her gaze down to get a better look at Chadwick’s face.

“That’s a weird name for your titties, baby. But, yes, they do excite me.”

His joke made her howl with laughter that was quickly quieted by the knowledge that Micah was sleeping within earshot.

As the show ramped up intensity before the main battle commenced, Chadwick transitioned to using both hands to push Tasha’s breast together and place sloppy french kisses in the valley they made. He was slowly, but surely, chipping away at her resolve with each lingering glance in his direction she tried to hide.

Soon, CoCo gave him her full attention, running her fingers through his coils while his kisses turned into gentle suckling. An unexpected tug at the top of the cami exposed both of her breast to the cool indoor air. Tasha’s back arched at the sensation.

“Murder and devastation must excite you, too.” Chadwick commented with a sly smile. He knew what he was doing and wanted Tasha to admit that he’d won the battle. Understanding the game, Tasha chose to play by her own rules.

“Shut up and put one in your mouth.”

Humming his approval, Chadwick granted her wish, using his mouth to bring his wife pleasure. The routine continued on the other side because Chadwick was a fair man. Each one of Tasha’s breast would eagerly receive equal attention.

“Can we continue or are you still trying to watch this? Let me know.” His hands continued to grope and massage while waiting for any sign that he had approval to continue. A breathy moan escaped her lips, earning a satisfied smile from Chadwick. “Was that a yes, baby?”

“I don’t know. Do that again.” If he was going to play games then so would she.

“Hmm,” He hummed. His hands began a slow descent into her shorts, gingerly brushing against her lower bits repeatedly. “Now?”

Chadwick was secretly competitive. Any mention of a challenge that he thought could produce a winner and a loser was a challenge he took seriously. Sex was no different. He aimed to satisfy each time.

Tasha’s body squirmed restlessly underneath the weight of his body as her husband expertly worked magic with his fingers. Taking her melodic moans as confirmation to continue, he slid his body to the end of the couch before removing the clothing below her waist.

Lowering his head, he skipped her center altogether, preferring to lick and suck on her inner thighs.

She whined as an appeal for more intensity. “Stop playing!”

“There’s that pretty voice. Ask me again. Nicely this time and I’ll consider.”

“Please, babe. Please?”

Tasha’s hands frantically pushed at the back of his head to convince him to perform his favorite task. Chadwick laughed as he repositioned himself to hover over her body.

“Not yet. I’m gonna put a baby in you real quick. You wanna try for a son?”

She didn’t but, the thought of him inside of her never mixed with rational decisions. Instead, Tasha lazily mumbled a response and prepared for the consequences. Pulling his member from its confinement, he used the slickness of her juices to coat the tip and drive her crazy. When he decided that she had been teased enough, he pulled one of Tasha’s legs to rest on his shoulder and the other to bend so that her foot was flat on the couch.

“You can’t be too loud, CoCo. If she wakes up, you’re on Bedtime Duty this time.” Chadwick warned.

Tasha whimpered impatiently, resigning to saying anything to speed up the process. She didn’t understand why he even made the statement until he was putting his weight on her leg as he pushed into her in one smooth motion.

“Ooooh FUCK!” Tasha shouted, unable to contain herself. Despite her outburst, Chadwick was proud of himself. That was exactly the reaction he wanted.

His motions started off slow, rolling his hips in deliberate motions to get his wife used to the stretch. Once he was sure she could handle the next level, he started a steady rhythm. Relying on his weight to keep her leg in the proper position, he took the opportunity to lean down and roughly press his lips against Tasha’s.

“Talk to me, beautiful. You know I like that.”

Words were hard to come by when all she could see were stars and two passenger baby strollers in her daze. “Shit, baby. I can’t take it.” You admitted.

“Nah, you gone take it.”

In a fleeting moment of bravery, she emerged from her haze on a mission to make Chadwick eat his words. Using your muscles, you clenched around him to get a reaction.

“Shit!” He whisper yelled through gritted teeth. “You really want another baby in this house, huh?”

“Maybe.” Again, Tasha didn’t but, being dangled on the edge of euphoria made her say things she didn’t mean.

The sound of obscene phrases and skin slapping drowned out all other noises around them, including the sound of a door opening down the hallway and little feet rushing toward the open space.

“Daddy?” A timid voice called from the living room’s entryway.

Chadwick stilled and clamped his eyes shut, attempting to disappear into thin air. Micah stood with her stuffed cat in tow, innocently rocking back and forth on her heels while she waited to be acknowledged.

“Yes, Princess?” Chadwick had managed to remove Tasha’s leg from his shoulder to spare his innocent baby the trauma that can come with catching her parents in the act.

“Where’s mommy?”

“She’s uh, um..right here. What’s wrong, baby?”

Tasha silently thanked God for the placement of the couch which allowed for her body to be completely blocked from Micah’s view.

“My scarf came off and I need Mommy to fix it, please.”

“I’m coming, Mikey,” Tasha blurted, throwing her hand in the hair to prove that she was in the room. “Just-just go back in your room. I’ll be right there!”

Micah replied with gentle ‘okay’ as Tasha scrambled to wiggle free from the weight of Chadwick’s body. While she retrieved her discarded clothing, Chadwick acted as a lookout to make sure their daughter was gone before turning to her with a toothy grin.

“I told you not to get too loud.”

“Fuck you, Aaron,” she spat as she slid on her shorts. “The leg? I thought we agreed that stays in the bedroom.”

“I got excited, CoCo. You must’ve put something in the popcorn so, really, this is your fault.”

“Shut up!” She grumbled, pushing the back of his head as she hurried toward Micah’s bedroom.

“Baby?” He called, causing Tasha to look back and acknowledge him. “Can we finish when you get back?”

“SHUT UP!”

Chadwick accepted the answer with his hand raised in surrender and turned to commandeer the remote. He would take what he was able to receive and make plans for the next secret hookup.

Tasha was almost to Micha’s beroom before she turned back to hurry down the stairs and answer Chadwick’s question with a more realistic verdict.

“Meet me upstairs in ten.”

#chadwick boseman #chadwick boseman imagine #chadwick boseman fan fiction #chadwick x reader #chadwick boseman x you #black panther fics #black panther fan fiction

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honestgrins · 6 years

Note

Do you accept prompts that you didn't come up with, I don't know if you have a list or not. But I just thought up a prompt and I would give my firstborn child to read the story. I know you may not have seen the Originals but Esther tried to body-switch Rebekah and Klaus said 'take me instead.' So the prompt is Esther grants Klaus’s request and body-switches him instead of Rebekah. He’s put into a teenage boy not much older than Caroline, he finds Caroline in Mystic Falls. Chaos ensues.

Ummmm, sorry this took SO long!! I’m slowly working through my lists, I swear. Thanks for your patience, and I really hope you like it! Takes place near the beginning of TVD S6.

Familiarity || Klaroline

“I’m going to fix this.” Rebekah’s voice was steely as she cupped his face, looking for any resemblance to the brother who had selflessly taken her punishment instead. Her thumb traced the new line of his cheek. “I promise, Nik.”

Klaus smirked, the familiar expression almost eerie on his human vessel. “It’s only temporary, Rebekah,” he murmured quietly.

She glanced just behind him to glare at their mother. “I don’t trust her,” Rebekah hissed.

“As if I don’t already have a plan.” Rolling his eyes, Klaus turned to face Esther. “Satisfied, Mother? Here I am, human and non-threatening.”

Esther’s eyes remain cold as her smile spread to something almost like warmth. “It’s for the best,” she nodded sagely. “The mere lifetime ahead of you will be worth more than the millennium you’ve already lived, Niklaus.”

Stepping toward the body he once inhabited, Klaus swallowed back an odd, hollow feeling when faced with his desiccating form. “Rebekah.”

“No!” Esther screamed.

In a second, Rebekah flashed both Klaus and his body away from the compound. Too focused on the body swap, Esther had failed to maintain the barrier spell on the house, allowing her children to escape.

With his too human senses, the sudden speed was disorienting for Klaus. By the time Rebekah stopped at the compound, his chest was heaving, the urge to vomit nearly overwhelming the dizziness. “Now-” He had to pause, focusing on deep breaths to remain steady. “We’re going to need a witch for cloaking spells. Elijah has one of his computer techs working on a false identity I can assume in the meantime, just out of sight of Mother Dearest.”

Nodding, Rebekah had yet to look at him in his new body; she pushed back the hair against his graying skin, instead. All the times he had daggered her, yet she couldn’t take any joy in him forced into submission. They’ve all lost each other too many times, and by their own family. “Where will you go?”

“Once the spells are done and my body is reasonably secured,” Klaus shrugged, “I have an idea where I can lay low, the last place Esther would think to look. There’s even a built-in resistance should she manage to find me.”

She frowned, finally turning to face him. Her eyes looked for any sign of her devious brother among the unfamiliar features. “Tell me you’re not that stupid.”

His smirk fell into a stern glare, the resemblance becoming clear in the violent expression. “Careful, sister. I may be human now, but-”

“Shove it, Nik,” Rebekah snapped, steel in the reminder that she was more powerful than her brother for the first time in her long, long life. “What could you possibly hope to gain by going back there?”

Klaus narrowed his eyes, a cunning smile curving his lips. “It seems the quarterback hasn’t been keeping in touch,” he teased, enjoying her angry hiss in response. “My sources say that Mystic Falls is protected against magic.”

“And Mother can’t get to you,” Rebekah realized. “But you’re magically in a human body.”

Sighing, Klaus ran a hand through his hair and startled at the smooth, dark strands. “I don’t know, Bekah. It’s merely an option should Mother make herself a further nuisance. Plan A is to ingratiate myself nearby.”

Rebekah blinked, irritation rising in her expression. “Oh, you must be joking.”

“Whitmore University Academic Advising Office, Caroline speaking.” Her fake smile stretched like elastic with the standard greeting, voice strained between professionalism and complete irritation with the human condition. The office job seemed like a good bet for work-study hours, even if the endless phone calls panicked over registration made her want to eat everyone who didn’t understand basic instructions. “Yes, you received an email with that information, I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you,” she answered tightly. “Then check your student portal, it’s also listed there.”

Sighing at the barrage of angry explanations for why that was so hard, Caroline mentally reminded herself that murder was bad. Even if she was short on blood and super hungry, hunting down some freshman who got snippy with the wrong vampire was so not worth the effort and resulting guilt.

Not so much about the feeding; since she’d been magically locked out Mystic Falls all summer, Caroline goaded her mom into taking advantage of the relative peace with a long vacation. The beach resort had plenty of booze for her to sublimate, but blood bags were few and far between. Liz managed to grin and bear the glassy-eyed guests on their way to sleep off the blood Caroline gave to heal them, but not without a stern reminder for her daughter to use good judgment once back at school.

“Mystic Falls might be safe from the supernatural, but Whitmore isn’t,” Liz had warned just before crossing the border back into town. “Getting sloppy can get you killed, draw the wrong attention.” What she left unsaid had Caroline nodding back grave tears. The Travelers were finally gone, but not without losing Bonnie to wherever she and Damon ended up when the Other Side collapsed. Stefan fled to grieve his brother, Elena walked a fine line between miserable and losing it on a good day, and Matt seemed to enjoy his exclusively human experience.

Once Caroline made it to campus for her sophomore year, then, all that left her with was-

“Hello, gorgeous.” Enzo appeared before her desk, handing off a coffee cup that didn’t smell like coffee. “Thought you might be needing a pick-me-up.”

“Enzo!” She kept her admonishment to a harsh whisper, glancing around the open office to make sure no one noticed his too sudden entrance. He’d become an unexpectedly reliable companion, though she still wasn’t sure why he stuck around. After a hundred years in a cell, Caroline half wanted to send him on a world tour. But he brought her blood and let her vent about statistics homework, so…only half. “Some discretion would be nice.” His roguish smirk told her exactly what he thought about discretion, but she accepted the cup anyway; her crabbiness would only get worse without blood. “Suspiciously warm,” she noted. “Anyone I know?”

Shrugging, Enzo made himself comfortable in the waiting area next to her, legs kicked up on her bookshelf until she shoved his feet away. “One of the parents passing through, per your request. No one likely to build a lingering grudge over time.”

Caroline sighed in relief. “Thank you.” The scent of blood darkened the veins under her eyes, and the tips of her fangs just grazed her lip when a student knocked at the door. Ducking her head to fake a cough, she took a calming breath to greet him with a more human face. “Hello, can I help you?”

He just stood there, staring at her for a too long moment. “Uh, hello?” Caroline asked again, ignoring Enzo’s amused recline as he watched the show.

“Sorry.” The guy seemed to straighten his leather jacket before folding his hands behind his back. “I wasn’t expecting- Hello. I’m a new transfer from Tulane, and I received an email to confirm my schedule here.”

Enzo perked up in his seat. “New Orleans?” Wincing, Caroline reminded herself to never drink with him again. New friend bonding time had turned into story time, which included a fair amount about the Mikaelsons, the havoc they wrought, and the greener pastures they apparently found down South. “I hear it’s a great town to get in trouble.”

“And then some, mate.” He glanced between the two of them, though, his fond smile turning into something darker.

Her eyes narrowed, some wave of suspicion dawning upon her. “Name? I’ll need it to find your advisor.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t waver from her gaze, instead meeting it with a challenge of his own. “Nicholas Mills. Call me Nic.”

He had forgotten what it was like to truly be in the presence of Caroline Forbes, the whirlwind that she was. For a whole month, Klaus had been able to chat, flirt, and even befriend her in his new body. She invited him to movie nights, caught up with him at the library, it was the utterly human life he had wanted her to leave behind.

As much as he hated his own humanity at times, he could admit that this glimpse of another life was…tempting.

Klaus knew he would have to tell her the truth at some point; the excuse for protection would only hold her attention - and her patience - for so long. He would have to explain when the time was right. Unable to contact Rebekah without drawing their mother’s attention, though, Klaus could not begin to guess when the right time would be.

Until then, he simply tried to enjoy the time she spent with him as Nic Mills. Dreadfully bored from the rest of his college experience, Klaus couldn’t help but allow bits of himself bleed through the mask. He spent his days in art classes, rolling his eyes through poor interpretations and misinformed history lessons. Often, he would duck into the music wing to while away at the piano. Whitmore had more to offer than he’d expected, but too much longer in this game would surely drive him insane.

But watching Caroline dance, smile bright among the party lights of the frat house, was a different sort of hell entirely. A red Solo cup of cheap beer was shoved into his hand, and he glanced over to find Enzo smirking at him. “Thanks,” he bit out, taking a sip. The strange vampire had been an unpleasant surprise, to say the least. It had only taken Klaus a day to catch onto his supernatural status, what with the unsubtle jokes about going for a bite and bloody t-shirts. Finding him so close to Caroline was even worse. Those nicknames. She had brooked no such casual friendship with Damon; why she put up with this fellow, Klaus didn’t understand.

“Following our girl again, huh?” Enzo drank from a flask instead, his eyes darting around the room. “Gorgeous has a tendency of collecting hangers-on.”

“Apparently so,” Klaus noted, none too generously. “Where’d she get you, then?”

Shrugging, Enzo waved back to Caroline who’d noticed both of them in the corner. “Would you believe that I was held captive for a hundred years, only to be abandoned by the closest thing I had to family, with just a gorgeous blonde to pester me back to fighting shape? Of course not, that’d be impossible.”

Klaus blinked, suddenly wanting much more of that story. But with Caroline approaching, he had to quash his instincts to threaten Enzo for information. “Hello.”

“Just in time, Gorgeous,” Enzo teased. “I was telling Nic here all about how we met. See, she pretended to hate me for a bit, but I grew on her. I hear it’s a habit with her, actually.”

Rolling her eyes, Caroline stole his flask before turning to Klaus. “Don’t believe a word he says. You don’t strike me as the frat party type.”

“You’re here,” he answered simply, much to Enzo’s amusement.

With a hoarse laugh, Enzo barely dodged an elbow jab from Caroline. “Careful, you’re a bit more breakable than her usual boyfriend. Don’t have fur, do you?”

Her hand pushed him away until she could slip between them like a barrier. Klaus wanted to push on that, wondering if he was included in that usual. Her smile turned placating, a reminder of all the times she acted as the distraction for him. “Seriously, ignore him. He’s already drunk. Do you want to da- Hold on.” Caroline reached into her pocket, frowning at the display as it buzzed. “This is…weird. I should take this.”

Lifting the phone to her ear, Klaus tried to decipher the sudden pinch in Caroline’s expression, only for the reason to become all too clear. “Rebekah?”

Klaus froze and wished he had his supernatural hearing. He didn’t want to show his hand too soon, both his safety and Caroline’s good favor depended upon him play his cards right. Worse, Rebekah might be in trouble when he was in no position to help. As his brain ran wild with the possibilities, he forced his face to remain passive. After all, he was just a human with no clue as to the Original family’s existence.

Thoroughly concerned with her conversation, Caroline didn’t seem to pay him much mind. Her eyes went wide; Klaus assumed Rebekah told her of Esther’s return and his own sacrifice. “No, Bonnie’s-” She choked up a bit, likely taken off guard. He hadn’t been pleased to discover the joy of Damon’s death cost a Bennett witch as well, though he knew Caroline was impacted on a more emotional front. “She’s gone. Where did Klaus go? Is he okay?”

Warmed at the note of worry in her voice, Klaus figured he had best be the one to come forward with the truth. Holding out his hand, he let himself fall back into his natural accent. “I’m fine, love. Give me the phone.”

Caroline hesitated only a moment until her eyes slid shut. He could practically feel the frustration rolling off her as she pressed the phone into his hand. “Unbelievable,” she muttered seconds before flashing them both out of the party. When they arrived in her off-campus apartment, Klaus took deep breaths to prevent vomiting. She scoffed at the utterly human reaction. “Seriously? Start talking, Nic.”

“You wanker,” Rebekah’s tinny voice yelled through the phone. “Is it really you, Nik?”

Sighing, Klaus held the phone up to his ear. “Yes, Rebekah. It’s been a dull few weeks. I assume you’ve been trying to reach me.”

“Your voicemail is full.”

“Phone’s locked in my studio at the compound,” Klaus answered. “I didn’t want to give Esther’s minions a means to track me.” He watched as Caroline crossed her arms, clearly unsettled.

Rebekah mumbled some obscenities at the holes in that plan, not that they’d had much time to develop it. “Well, I have you now. Elijah and Marcel have brokered a truce with Mother, I was going to bring your body up to Whitmore to avoid any interference with the spell.”

“What truce?” He certainly didn’t approve any such agreement, especially given their mother’s ill will toward their very being.

“We have Finn, it’s a trade. His life for your freedom. If the Bennett can’t do the spell, however, I want Caroline to escort you back to New Orleans. Davina will have to be the one to return you.” With a click, Rebekah hung up before either of them could protest.

Playing idly with the phone, Klaus struggled to meet Caroline’s eyes. “Sweetheart-”

“Please, don’t.” She sounded tired. “This is just…weird. Why would you do this? You made me a promise.”

I will walk away, and I’ll never come back.

Klaus opened his mouth, only to close it again. Dragging his tongue across his bottom lip, he bowed his head. “Where else would you have me go?” He glanced up to see the indecision on her face. “I wanted to tell you. Several times.”

“And yet, you didn’t. Several times.” She combed her hands through her hair, and Klaus watched forlornly as paced the room. “Well, it looks like you finally got me to New Orleans. Let’s go, we can make it there by lunch.”

“Caroline-”

Pressing her hands to her mouth, Caroline shook her head. “We’ll be trapped in a car for hours, I swear, we’ll talk about boundaries and honesty and common courtesy, I just…need a little time to process for myself. Okay?” She stared expectantly until he nodded in answer. “Okay. And I get to pick the music, it’s my car and I haven’t been lying for weeks.”

“No arguments here, love.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Stop that. I need to pack.” Flashing around her apartment, she came to a sudden stop with a suitcase in her hand.

A flare of hope clenched his stomach, though he wisely stayed quiet; still, a suitcase seemed more appropriate for an extended visit than a mere delivery. Soon, curiosity overwhelmed him. “Did you like him? Nic?”

Caroline, half buried in her pantry looking for road trip snacks, turned to face him in speculation. “I wanted to,” she finally said. “It’s been a while since…” The woods. “Plus, dating a human is such a recipe for disaster. I always kind of knew it would only be a temporary thing, which is fine. But I don’t like being temporary.”

Immortal. Fearless. “For what it’s worth,” he breathed, almost scared to invite her derision once more, “temporary is the last thing I want from you.”

“I know.” She didn’t sound sad or resigned as he’d expected. Rather, Caroline stated it as a matter of fact - that what they might be, would be forever. Shrugging, she managed a small smile. “Not yet.”

Klaus blinked, all too human heart pounding in his chest. He was about to have Caroline all to himself for hours, then in New Orleans, in his own body. She wasn’t ready for forever.

Not yet.

Read on: AO3 and FFnet

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #to rely on the kindness of strangers #fic: familiarity #my writing #thedisdainfullysilentvisitor #thanks for the prompt!#i hope you like it!#this dragged on for weeks; i've had 4thewords for three days and actually finished #miracle writing tool

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green-violin-bow · 6 years

Text

{7} – {6} – {5} – {4} – {3} – {1&2}

"Happy to just – walk towards the river, then?” asks Greg, descending the steps at the front of the bar with casual, fluid motions.

So comfortable in his own skin. “Certainly,” returns Mycroft, motioning to his driver not to follow them.

Greg nods at the car. “They follow you around and wait for you everywhere?”

“Almost everywhere,” returns Mycroft calmly.

“Security,” says Greg, without really asking a question.

Mycroft does not respond aloud; he turns the corner of his mouth up wryly. Why does his presence make me want to smile? He flexes his fingers slightly. His gloves are back on, but the feeling that his hand should be in Gregory's stays with him.

“We'll come out near the Tower if we go this way,” says Greg. “Actually not the worst time to walk along there. Not as busy as usual.”

Mycroft assents by turning towards the river. He feels terribly self-conscious; and awfully aware of the man by his side.

“You can stop me buying cigarettes on the way,” sighs Greg.

Mycroft looks at him obliquely. “You assured me that you had given up.” He had intended it as a slightly facetious remark, but to his own ears it sounds merely stuffy.

“Yeah, well, nervous, aren't I?” says Greg amusedly, startlingly forthright.

Mycroft looks away, down the street. He is nervous?

“Aren't you?” asks Greg, with an awkward huff of laughter.

Horribly.

How does he so easily share his emotions with others?

“Perhaps,” murmurs Mycroft, hardly moving his lips. They walk in silence for a few moments.

“So...what are you up to this weekend?” asks Greg.

Mycroft presses his lips together, and rolls his eyes.

“What?” Greg is grinning now. “You got to have Sunday lunch with Sherlock or something?”

Mycroft sighs. Am I truly – “perhaps worse,” he says, reluctantly.

Greg laughs. “Worse?”

Mycroft suppresses the temptation to smile. “Our parents.”

Greg's watching him sidelong as they walk. “Visiting?”

“Yes.” Mycroft sighs. “Naturally Sherlock will not house them, so I shall do so, as usual.”

Greg snorts a laugh. “God. Sorry.”

“As you can imagine, I am not eager to face their questions –” he looks away. “A national emergency is planned.”

“What, so you're spending all weekend working, just to avoid questions about your mark?”

Mycroft shoots him a look, eyes narrowed. “It is evident that you have never found yourself subject to interrogation from my mother.”

“Ha. Alright.” Greg nods towards the river. “Talking of. Getting near the Tower.”

Mycroft clears his throat slightly. “Perhaps –” he says, hesitantly.

“Mm?” Greg’s brown eyes are deep as he looks up at him.

“There is – just down this road –” Mycroft pauses. “It is quiet.”

“Yeah?” asks Greg. They approach the unassuming stone doorway. “What is it? Park, or something?”

“Effectively, now,” murmurs Mycroft, as they step inside. It is silent, a haven of quiet in the centre of the city.

“A ruined church,” says Greg, wonderingly. “I never knew this was here.” His hand on Mycroft's arm almost makes him jump. “C’mon. Let's sit.”

The light from the surrounding streets glows through the ivy-clad fretwork of stone, a yellow city gloaming.

“Can't believe how quiet it is in here,” says Greg, taking a seat on a wooden bench.

“It remains surprisingly so, even during the working day,” returns Mycroft, calmly. “It was bombed, and never rebuilt.”

“You come here sometimes?” asks Greg, and he's turned towards Mycroft on the bench.

Mycroft feels suddenly very watched. “Sometimes,” he says, looking away.

An awkward pause.

“Listen, Mycroft,” says Greg, in a rush. “Thanks. For this.”

Mycroft longs to examine Greg's hand, his mark. Sometimes he thinks he will feel the imprint of Greg's kiss on his own fingers forever.

He keeps his gaze firmly set on the rough, broken stone of an archway.

Greg's voice, when he speaks again, is full of – fear? Yes, fear. Mycroft's heart could burst from his chest. He wants to assuage.

“D’you think – is there…” Greg takes a breath. “We could – keep doing this. If you wanted.”

Mycroft's heart squeezes. “The marks,” he says, through a dry throat. “They are –”

“I know you don't believe in it,” says Greg, quickly.

“It is – disconcerting to find myself in such a situation,” says Mycroft, firmly, and perhaps the whisky has loosened his tongue because he continues to speak. “There is, of course, the – biological draw, which I understand is natural –” he presses his lips into a flat line. I want to take his hand. Kiss his mark in return. “Does it not –” his voice sounds cold in the ivy-clad ruins. “I find it disturbing to be directed in so – animal a fashion.”

He glances to Greg, briefly, almost afraid to see his expression. Light falls across his face, creating deep pools of shadow. His silver hair glints nearly gold in this light.

“Kind of like any attraction though, right?” asks Greg, thoughtfully.

“Yet invested with such –” Mycroft swallows, “– weight of expectation.” Greg does not speak, and he is afraid to look up again. The calm twilight of the ruins breathes silently around them. “I am by no means soulmate material,” says Mycroft, at last.

Greg leans forward, and his left hand touches the back of Mycroft's right. Gloves. Oh for the love of all that is good, why did I put them back on? Even in this light, Mycroft can see the edges of the bright splashes of colour on Greg's fingertips.

“This means you are,” says Greg, quietly.

“It means I have a –” Mycroft stops short of the word. “Not that I am in any way equipped to form a – some sort of – lasting bond.” The darkness, the intimate silence of the ruined church at night, is dangerous. I could tell him anything, here. Tonight. Greg's eyes are dark, and terribly trusting.

“Please,” is all he says, and Mycroft looks down at his own hand, held gently between both of Greg's.

Yes. Or – no, but – Mycroft nods, once, and pulls his gloves off. He attempts to hide the catch in his breath, his shaky exhale, as Greg takes his hand again.

Gentle, bright-stained fingertips run over his mark, back and forth. Relief floods through Mycroft's body, and he frowns.

“’M’sorry,’ sighs Greg. “I know it's – ’s’weird not being able to control how you feel. I – I get that.”

Mycroft smiles sharply in the darkness. “My apologies that it should be me.”

Greg pins him with a look. “Don't be stupid.” Mycroft fights the urge to bristle. “I know my soulmate. I – we've got a chance. I couldn't be luckier.”

Mycroft almost laughs, at that. “There are many people with whom this would be a much simpler and more pleasant experience.”

“Why d’you think I need ‘simple’?” asks Greg. “I don't. And –” he looks at Mycroft, holds eye contact. Their fingers lace together, between them on the bench. “Don't think I don't get it. Someone as busy as you, as much to worry about. I know the value of your time, a night like this. I know it's not nothing. It – could be more difficult, too.”

Mycroft’s heart races. “You know nothing about me.”

“More than you get, maybe. The important stuff.” Greg's smile is complicated. “And I – you said there's so much expectation – let's just look at this like normal dating, yeah? It's the same, really. You like the look of each other, so you meet up and see if you like each other as people, too. Or you’re already friends, but there's something else there too, so you try it out. ’S’just the same.”

Mycroft's hand feels warm and safe in Greg's. His body seems to purr with a bone-deep sense of rightness.

“Gregory…” he murmurs, in the darkness. Greg's fingers tighten slightly on his. “I do not – relationships are not –” Deplorably expressed. At least attempt to finish your sentences.

“I haven't been with anyone in ages, Mycroft,” returns Greg. “There's no right and wrong here.” He swallows, audibly. “It doesn't have to be – it can be whatever you want. Anything. For the record though –” he hesitates, and Mycroft can hear the warm smile in his voice, the way he dares himself to speak. “I think you're gorgeous. Always have.”

Mycroft's mouth goes dry, heart skipping a beat. I had assumed – the wife – and there are platonic soulmates, of course –

“Sorry,” says Greg, sounding worried, seeking out Mycroft's gaze. “I wasn't – Christ, I wasn't trying to add more pressure, or –”

Mycroft shakes his head. “No. Gregory.” He cannot find words. Instead he squeezes Greg's hand.

“I like the way you say that.”

Mycroft looks up, and finds himself caught in the dark warmth of Greg's gaze. “Pardon?”

“‘Gregory’. No-one calls me that.”

“I – my apologies –”

“No. No, I meant –” Greg smiles. “It's yours.”

#soulmates au #mystrade ficlet #mystrade #i really need to name this at some point #i'm the worst at titles #my fic

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liminoidal · 7 years

Note

All the 50 qs for Icio

My fish kid?? 0^0 im stoked

Their age? - They are 420 (blaze it)

Their sexuality/sexual preference? - They can be interested in anyone, but let’s be real, they have only ever been interested in Juni (so Junisexual?)

Any siblings/Only child? - They are an only child by birth, but they like to think they have a found family rn.

Their favourite season? - There aren’t seasons on Dryas like Earth? But they prefer the colder months cuz they prefer long skirts and that lifestyle is not hopping during the warm and humid months.

Who were/are their parents/guardians? - Their birth mother was a bitch, their birth father likely didn’t know they existed, but the Templar Koda (who raised them) was pretty chill.

Their gender? - They are a fish person who was raised by a bunch of trees, gender is the least of their problems.

Their date of birth? - October 23--yes they are the dreaded Scorpio.

What clothing style? - They love long skits and crop tops, and since they don’t need the templar cowl, they love sleeveless shirts.

What is their favourite food after a break-up? - They’ve never had a break-up? The closest they got was when they weren’t able to talk to Juni, and then they just kinda... Didn’t eat lmao.

Their favourite thing to do after a break-up? - They are a meditation freak normally, but when Juni is mad at them they meditate like constantly. Also, painting nails is super relaxing in their opinion.

What happens in the ‘honeymoon phase’ for this character? - I mean them and Juni are soulmates, so they just tease her and also privately worship her, and also like. So much sex. Seriously it’s kinda embarrassing at some point.

How many serious relationships have they been in? - One? With Pan, praise be to him. Lmao, jk, they have only ever been with Juni because templars take a vow of celibacy.

What is their nationality? - They are Dryad by nurture, but half-Theuthidan half-human by nature.

What languages do they speak? - They speak Dryad, Common, Binary, and learned Theuthidan curses just to curse them out.

What is their profession/Education? - They were educated as a templar, so they have extensive magic and religious education.

Their favourite comfort food? - They drink tea to be comforted.

What’s a food they hate? - They hate the idea of fish. Even if they hate Theuthida, it just makes them viscerally uncomfortable.

Their music taste? - They are the person that turns on the “lo-fi beats to study to” playlist and listens religiously.

Is there a story behind their name/meaning? - Their mom didn’t want to be associated with them, so she gave them their father’s surname and picked a random first name.

Something they do that seems childish to others? - Their first time sleeping with Juni was... Rough, to say the least. And overall, they missed out on a lot growing up with templars, so their excitement for parties is kinda childlike. They are also stubborn in their self-hatred, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary.

What is their all-time favourite TV show? - They’ve never seen a TV show? But if they were gonna like anything, it would probably be Steven Universe or Adventure Time.

What is their all-time favourite movie? - They love Finding Nemo. They might have a few issues with their family.

How big is their family? - 16? Their found family is pretty big.

Are they close to anyone specific in the family? - They are closest to Juni obvs, but they are getting really close with Castor and Ciri. Them and Nivviah have a bond through shared heritage (that took a bit to get used to), they are good friends with Val, and Venus (and soon Flor) and them have weekly spa nights where they gossip about the ship and give fashion tips.

Have they got any allergies? - They are allergic to weed. The irony hasn’t stopped hitting them this entire year.

Are they an emotional person? - They specifically are not, mostly because their wild magic and their emotions are tied in odd ways. Sometimes it can lead to gross things like a third eye. Sometimes it can be more... dangerous, like lightning in their hands or poison in the air.

Do they get angry/lose their temper quickly? - No, they have meditation for that.

What are some of their guilty pleasures? - They really like standing in front of the mirror and just... adding spells to make it seem like they are full human, or dryad. It’s a nice thought, but then the spell fades and they get a bit sad.

Do they have pets? Do they want pets? - They don’t have pets and they don’t fully understand the concept like... You just own little creatures? And call them names? Why?

Do they like kids? Do they want kids/have kids? - They have loved kids for years. Between away missions, they would read stories to the orphans and help them go to sleep. They do have kids, and they are working on accepting that. One of them is literally a soul attached to a locket, and the other two are snilds (snake childs).

Who’s cuddle buddy are they? - They are Juni’s cuddle buddy, and sometimes the rest of the team in they feel like they need it.

Do they have any tattoos? - Nope, unless you count the scales.

Do they have any piercings? - Nope, they are not into pain like that.

What is their hair colour? Is it their natural colour? - Their hair color is light auburn and yes, it is that way by nature, despite all evidence that might point otherwise.

Do they like musicals? - They hadn’t heard a musical until [insert name here] introduced them to the concept. Now they listen to Next to Normal religiously.

Do they like marmite? - They don’t know what a marmite is and at this point they are too afraid to ask.

Do they like glitter? - They love glitter but like it’s not very good for their scales cuz if you think it takes forever to get off of human skin, you have never had glitter stuck between a couple of scales.

Do they believe in the supernatural? - They are a religious person, and even if they weren’t, at this point they’ve seen too much proof to refute it.

Have they ever seen a dead body? - Bitch, they’ve caused dead bodies.

Have they ever had a near-death experience? - Yup. It ended in their first son dying and being put in a necklace. They don’t really wanna experience that shit again. Knowing Castor, it probably will happen again.

Have they ever broken a bone? - Nah, they’ve been super careful about that stuff.

What are they like when they’re drunk/what kind of drunk are they? - They are an honest and giggly drunk. It’s not as fun as it sounds.

Have they ever drunk underage? - They barely got to drink overage, they are 420.

What is the first thing they do when they wake up? - They meditate for awhile, usually talking to Heron but sometimes just on their own, pondering… Everything.

Do they consider themselves popular? - Not really? That was always Juni. Their inferiority complex has always been a barrier to them seeking out friendships, and they genuinely like alone time. (They say to themself, quietly dying of loneliness on the side when Juni is with other people.) But they’re working on it. They’ve got the Freedom Vessel now.

How do they like their tea/coffee? - They like that plain leaf water, and can’t drink coffee.

What do they smell like? - Slightly fish-y? Not a lot because they don’t like go in water very much, but a little. Also a lot like trees, specifically Juni.

Are they a virgin? - Not since they left Dryas they’re not. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Do they wear glasses/contacts? - Nope, they got that good fish eyesight.

Are they good at remembering significant dates? Anniversaries, birthdays etc? - Normally yeah. Sometimes it slips their mind, but they are also four centuries old, so they sometimes ask for some graciousness. (*eyes Juni freaking out a hundred years ago for accidentally forgetting to say “happy birthday” one freaking time)

#dnd #icio #reformatted

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rhodesasha · 7 years

Photo

L.A. TASK: Sasha’s character study. 📝

ORIGINS & FAMILY

Full Name: Sasha Maya Rhodes

Reason for name: Her grandmother gave her the middle Maya after her favorite writer Maya Angelou.

Nickname(s) and how they got them: Sash.

Date of Birth: 3/10/96

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Place of birth: Los Angeles, CA

Places lived since: She’s remained in LA her whole life.

Social Class: Middle.

Parents’ names, backgrounds, occupations: Mother: Louise Garcia - Dominican - occupation is unknown. Father: Dwight Rhodes - Black - Jamaican descent - occupation: business owner.

Siblings: A brother, Dinero Byrne (@durtydinero).

Relationship with family (close? estranged?): She’s estranged from her mother and her side of the family and close with her father and his side of her family.

Children of his/her own?: No.

If so, relationship with child’s mother/father?: N/A.

Age he/she became a parent: N/A.

PHYSICAL

Height: 5′5.

Weight: 115lbs.

Build: Slim build.

Race: Dominican/Jamaican descent.

Nationality: American.

Face Shape: Round.

Distinguishing Facial Features: None in particular.

Hair Color: Black.

Usual Hair Style: Sasha usually leaves her hair out in it’s natural, curly state.

Eye Color: Brown.

Complexion (freckles, acne, skin tone, birth marks, scars): Pale, clear, lightskinned complexion.

Disabilities (physical or mental, including mental illnesses): N/A.

Health (usually sick? or very resilient? allergies?): Quite resilient.

What do they consider their best feature?: Her eyes.

Worst they’ve ever been injured (what, how did it happen)?: Cracked the back of her head open doing hyperactive shit as a kid.

Ticklish: Yes, lol.

APPEARANCE

Style of dress/typical outfit(s): Typically quite relaxed. T-shirt, jeans or leggings. Dresses (sometimes).

Typical style of shoes: Slides, sneakers, heels (if she wants to be fancy, lol).

How does he/she dress up?: Dress down?: She dresses up usually in a nice dress and heels. Dresses down in t-shirts, leggings, jeans or sweats.

Favorite outfit: She doesn’t have one in particular.

Glasses? Contacts?: Contacts, or glasses when her eyes are irritated from contacts.

Personal Hygiene: Sasha holds a high standard of personal hygiene, like most people (I’d like to think). She’s deep into self care, face masks, bubble baths. Allat. That’s what her and Marcel bond over lmao.

Grooming (makeup? shower daily? wear only clean clothes? pluck eyebrows?): She wears make-up everyday, showers everyday, twice. Who the hell wears dirty clothes? Lol, she gets her eyebrows waxed.

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: She always wears her name chain necklace, a ring @moneymarce gave her as a birthday gift, her watch, earrings. No tattoos but she has her ears and belly button pierced.

What does their voice sound like?: Softly spoken.

Style of speech (loud, mumbler, articulate, etc.): Articulate.

Accent?: She has a classic LA/California accent, I guess?

Unique mannerisms/physical habits (bites nails, talks with hands, taps feet when restless): She taps her false nails against every hard surface when bored or out of habit. She literally can’t help it, lol.

Left handed or right?: Right handed.

What does their writing look like?: Neat, cursive.

Do they work out/exercise?: No, unless she’s waiting tables at work or.. asdghdkdg you know.

BELIEFS & INTELLECT

Level of self esteem: Not all the way high but definitely not low.

Known Languages: English.

Zodiac (sign and if they lend any credence to it): Libra + somewhat. She doesn’t think she has all the Libra traits.

Gifts/talents: N/A, lmao. She’s good at stuff but nothing she’d consider a talent per se.

Shortcomings: Sasha likes to act like she doesn’t care when she deep down she probably cares the most. Can’t ever swallow her pride.

Most sensitive about/vulnerable to: Her relationship with her mother.

Happiest memory: Spending summers with her dad when she was a kid.

Life philosophy: Just to never let anything hold her back, because shit happens for a reason and just let shit play out the way it’s supposed to.

Religious stance: She doesn’t really have a firm religious stance but she does believe/pray to God.

Political stance: Again, no firm political stance but the current president.. lol, trash smh.

Pet peeves: She hates when people butt in her conversations with other people, liars - especially people who lie about SMALL things.

Vices: None.

Bad habits: None that come to mind.

Neuroses: She’s suffer(s/ed) with anxiety previously. But as of lately she’s been good.

Disgusts: Rude people, liars, people with bad hygiene.

Superstitious: Yes.

Sense of humor: Yes? Lol.

How do they deal with stress?: She tends to deal with stress on her own or if necessary, she talks to her best friend (@ayorome).

What do they do to get pumped up?: She needs a playlist on to do almost anything.

What do they do when upset?: She goes quiet and wants to be alone so she can go cry to herself, lol.

What about angry?: It’s hard for Sasha to get angry but when she is, depending on the situation she gets so mad that she cries or raises her voice. No in between lol.

How do they react to frustrations (get worked up, calm down and think through it logically, give up, etc)?: Vent all her frustrations to Roman more than likely.

How do they accept failure (both from themselves and others)?: Life goes on, she’ll leave it alone if it fails.

Level of comfort with technology: Eh, lol.

Believe in the supernatural: Yes.

Believe in an afterlife: Yes.

Believe in happy endings: Somewhat.

How do they want to be remembered?: Someone who’s loving, kind-hearted, thoughtful.

Good with their hands (if so, practical/crafting or fine arts)?: I guess so.

How fast do they learn new things? Better with book knowledge or hands on approach?: She’s a quick learner. It depends on what she’s learning so.. both.

How do they feel about asking for help?: Sasha HATES asking for help, even when she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Lol. Too much pride smh.

“Left brain” or “right brain” thinker?: Right brain.

Optimist or pessimist: A slight mixture of both, depending on the situation.

Extrovert or introvert: An introvert with extrovert tendencies, like it says in her bio lol.

Leader or follower: Follower.

Makes decisions based mostly on emotions, or on logic?: Emotions.

Cautious or daring: Cautious.

Spontaneous or planner: Planner.

Thinker or doer? Thinker.

Organized or messy: Organized.

Worrier or carefree: Worrier.

Artistic?: No.

Mathematical?: Yes.

SEX & INTIMACY

Current marital/relationship/sexual status: In a relationship with Marcel, (@moneymarce).

Sexual orientation (is it something they question or a secret): Heterosexual.

Past relationships and sexual partners (if applicable): None that anyone would know of.

What is their “type” in regards to looks in a partner?: Doesn’t really matter as long as he’s clean cut.

Ideal mate/qualities they look for in mate: Patience, thoughtfulness, intelligence, someone who’s caring, loving.. you know the rest.

Primary reason for being broken up with: Her pride, and how nonchalant she can be pisses people off at times.

Primary reasons for breaking up with people: If the other person is overwhelming or does too much for her liking she can’t handle it.

Views on sex (one night stands, promiscuity, etc): Sex is considered to be something special/sacred to Sasha so she ain’t out here just throwing her pussy everywhere with just anyone, aghsghds.

Age and story of first kiss (if any—if not, how does he/she want it to happen?): 14, she kissed some lil boy she liked from school.

Age and story of loss of virginity (if any—if not, how does he/she want it to happen, if at all?): 17, had sex with her high school sweetheart.

Level of sexual experience: Idk how to answer this, um she’s had sex enough to know what to do??? Lmao.

Do they have any unfulfilled sexual fantasies?: No.

Wildest/strangest sexual experience? Would they do it again?: None that come to mind.

Do they have any fetishes or kinks?: No.

Have they lied about their previous sexual partners to current/potential partners?: Lmao, nah that’s wack.

Love or Lust: Love.

Ever been in love?: No.

Do they fall in love easily?: Not really.

Do they take relationships seriously?: Yes.

Worst thing they’ve done to someone they loved?: Nothing that comes to mind.

Do they desire marriage and/or children in their future?: Of course.

Believe in true love or soul mates?: Yes, especially soul mates.

Thoughts on public displays of affection?: Sasha is really weird with PDA lmao, especially if it’s around a lot of people. She’s shy smh.

How do they flirt?: She can’t really flirt unless the other person starts the flirting, or she really likes them.

How do they show affection/love to their partner?: Physical - kisses, hugs, cuddling. Loves to boost her partner's head UP lol, tells them how good they look or make her feel.

Thoughts on cheating/cheaters? Have they ever cheated?: You’re trash if you cheat. She’s never cheated.

Idea of perfect date: Anything that includes chilling and/or eating. She’s lazy she doesn’t like active shit.

RELATIONSHIPS

Social Habits (popular, loner, some close friends, makes friends and then quickly drops them): The only person she considers friends are her best friend Roman, her brother Dinero or her boyfriend Marcel. Just people she holds close to her heart, other than that everyone else she talks to are acquaintances.

How do they treat others (politely, rudely, keep at distance, etc)?: Polite but she can be a lil passive aggressive sometimes with certain people though lmao.

Do they trust people easily or tend to be wary?: Wary.

How often do they see friends and family?: Sasha and her brother live SO close together but they only see each other every so often smh. She tries to visit her dad every so often, otherwise they FaceTime each other.

Are they good at keeping in touch? If not, does this bother loved ones?: Somewhat, it depends on how busy she is, but they understand.

What is relationship with parents/family?: Her relationship with her mother is next to non-existent. But very close to her dad.

Any roommates or close neighbors: She has roommates, but when she moves out she’s gonna be living with @ayorome.

Person most dependent on: Her dad.

Most comfortable around (person): @moneymarce.

Oldest friend: N/A.

Closest friend: @ayorome.

Worst enemy: N/A.

Rival (at what and why): N/A.

Most important person in their life?: Her dad.

Who do they most respect and why?: Her dad, again simply because when she left home (her mother’s) he took on the role of being both mom and dad to her.

Who would they turn to if they needed help and why?: Her dad or her brother.

How does he/she think others perceive him/her?: Idk? Lol.

How do others actually perceive him/her?: ..Idk.

Argue or avoid conflict?: Avoids conflict, but will argue if she’s real mad. Which is rare.

Thoughts on large groups of people?: She doesn’t mind if it’s just family and friends but it can get overwhelming for her.

Main quality they look for in people: Kind-heartedness.

Have they ever lost anyone close to them? How did they handle it?: Cry and attempt to handle it alone.

How do they show affection?: Answered.

Do they act differently around strangers than friends? If so, how differently?: She’s introverted around strangers, but she’s open around her friends.

Would they ever consider adopting a child? Why or why not?: Of course. Children should have a family or someone to feed, clothe and love them.

VOCATION

Level of education: Working towards finishing her college education.

Profession: Waitress/Server @ BOA Steakhouse

Describe their work space: A restaurant.

If no job, where do finances come from?: N/A

Past occupations: Other waiting jobs, retail.

Dream occupation: PR/Marketing Manager.

Passions: If she had to pick one, fashion. That’s the sector she wants to go in with her (future) job.

Attitude towards current job: Blah. It’s a job that pays.

Attitude towards current coworkers, bosses, employees: She gets along with most co-workers. Her manager doesn’t like her since she always asks for days off lol.

Salary: $21,900.

Spender or Saver? Why?: Saver, but she does like to spend sometimes.

Which is more important – money or doing something they love?: Money. She’ll work anywhere within reason if she has the skills and it pays well.

SECRETS

Phobias: Insects, snakes.. shit like that.

Life goals: Graduate and get her dream job, travel and see the world. Babies, marriage, the white picket fence. Lol.

Dreams: See above.

Greatest fears: Never re-building a relationship with her mother.

Most embarrassing thing ever to happen to him/her: Her dad catching her out past her curfew, he cussed her out and dragged her ass back to his car in front of all her high school friends and took her home. 😭

Something they’ve never told anyone: Lol, can’t think of none.

Biggest regret: *shows her “No Ragrets” chest tatt* Lmao, but nah. Everything happens for a reason so no regrets.

Compulsions: Hm, none.

Obsessions: Her man. 🌝

Secret hobbies: None.

Secret skills: None in particular.

Past sexual transgressions: No.

Police/Criminal/Legal record (Crimes committed? If so, were they caught? charged?): Never been arrested although she’s done some scammer shit over the internet in the past, never caught though.

What he/she most wants to change about his/her current life?: She wants to move out of her current apartment so bad.

What he/she most wants to change about his/her physical appearance?: None.

LIKES & DISLIKES

Hobbies: Reading, studying, anything surrounding self care (face masks, relaxing etc.) She’s really lazy as shit.

Indoors or Outdoors?: Indoors.

Favorite color: Baby pink.

Favorite smell: Rose water.

Favorite and least favorite food: Pizza is her fave, least fave is grits/porridge/anything with a weird texture.

Favorite and least favorite book: And Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. Doesn’t really have a least fave.. she doesn’t like reading novels though?

Favorite and least favorite movie: Belly is her fave. Doesn’t have a least fave but hates horror movies.

Favorite and least favorite song: I Miss You - Aaliyah is everythinggg to her lol. She doesn’t have a least favorite song.

Favorite and least favorite holiday (and why): Favorite holiday is Christmas.

Coffee or tea?: (Iced) tea.

Crunchy or smooth peanut butter?: Smooth. Only crackheads and serial murderers eat crunchy.

Do they watch TV? If so, what?: Insecure, Atlanta, LHH, Black Ink Crew + any black shows from 90′s/2000′s.

Favorite place to hang out: Her man’s house.

Do they like music? What kind?: RnB/Hip-hop. Throwback shit in particular, but she likes some new artists too.

Favorite type of weather: Summer weather.

Favorite form of entertainment: Listening to music.

How do they feel about traveling?: She hasn’t traveled a lot but she loves it and wants to do it more often.

What sort of gifts do they like?: Meaningful, heart-felt gifts.

MORALITY

Ever been in an argument (with who, about what, what happened): Who hasn’t been in an argument? But if she does argue it’s usually with her mom about their relationship or small triggers that come out in conversation. She argues with her dad sometimes, but nothing major.

Ever been in a physical altercation (with who, about what, what happened): Yes, in high school with another girl about petty high school shit, lol.

What trait do they find most admirable and why?: Intelligence, she likes when people can teach or put her on to other things/views etc.

Thoughts on violence: Doesn’t like it but if it’s necessary then.. yeah.

One act most ashamed of: She dissects her food before she eats it, asjdsj so damn weird.

Most proud of: Herself.

Evil – born or bred: Bred.

Is redemption possible (if so, are there limitations): Sure.

Does the end justify the means?: Hm, depends.

Good of the one or the many?: What. Lol.

Can they be manipulative?: Hm, sometimes. Mostly with her dad.

Do they think it’s okay to cry (if not, why)?: Of course. Sasha is a crier.

When did they last cry and why?: She last cried to Roman while venting.

Would they be able to kill (if so, under what circumstances)?: Not gon lie.. probably not lmao.

Who or what would they die for (or go to extremes for)?: Immediate family.

Anything they refuse to do under any circumstances (and why)?: Just generally doing people wrong. There’s no need.

Biases/prejudices?: None, she doesn’t discriminate.

What, if anything, shocks or offends them?: People who try and insult her intelligence.

What is their reputation?: ? Idk.

Cusser?: Yeah.

How do they react to unwanted sexual advances?: Never really experienced that so she wouldn’t know.

How would they react to stranger being bullied/abused?: What about an animal?: Stand up for them. She doesn’t like to witness shit like that. Not gon do shit for an animal tbh, unless it’s her pet.

How susceptible are they to peer pressure?: She can be easily encouraged by her friends. So.. yeah smh.

How do they react to conflict, both verbally and physically?: It depends on the person, sometimes she’ll raise her voice back, sometimes she shuts her ass up lol.

Easily forgive or hold grudges?: Hold grudges unless it’s someone she holds close.

Forgive self or live with regret/guilt?: Forgive herself.

Would they ever cheat someone? Under what circumstances?: Never gon cheat. EVER.

Have they ever been betrayed? By who? How did it affect them/their relationship?: Betrayed by her mom, her dad has done some shit to her too such as not telling her she had a brother for how many years. She forgave her dad, her mom.. eh lol.

Would they ever betray a friend/loved one? If so, under what circumstances? Never.

Do they respect the belief of others, even if it’s at odds with their own?: Yes.

Stand up for own beliefs or hide/avoid discussing them with people who have opposing views?: Stands up for her own beliefs.

DRUGS & ALCOHOL

Thoughts on drugs and alcohol: She smokes weed so. She wouldn’t do anything else. She doesn’t drink often.

Do they smoke? If so, do they want to quit?: She doesn’t wanna quit weed.

Age of first cigarette: Tried one at 16, and never again smh.

Age when they first got drunk (what happened, consequences): 19, she was peer pressured into drinking smh. She got in trouble with her dad and she was slumped over the toilet with a hangover.

Do they drink on regular basis: Nope.

What type of alcohol do they prefer: Cocktails. Drinks that taste good.

Have they ever tried other drugs (which, what happened, consequences): No.

Do they have any addictions?: No.

DETAILS

Most important/defining event in life to date: Meeting her brother for the first time.

Daily routine: Wake up, shower, get dressed, class, come home, go see Marcel, fall asleep (whatever comes first lmao) or if it’s a weekend she goes to work.

Sleeping habits (Night owl or early bird? Light or heavy sleeper? Fall asleep anywhere or need specific conditions?): Heavy sleeper, she can sleep anywhere lol.

Typical Saturday night: Chilling with Marcel.

Most used word or phrase?: Idk lol.

What is home like (messy, neat, sparse): Neat.

Type of car he/she drives (or wishes he/she drove): A white or black g-wagon is her dream car.

Pets?: If not, do they want any?: No, but she wants a puppy lol.

Most prized possession: The initial ring Marcel gave her for her birthday.

One word to best describe them: Um.. lazy lmao.

What are you likely to find in their pockets? Purse/bag/backpack/wallet?: Her phone, wallet, pencil case, laptop, notebook, a hair brush, lip gloss, blotting papers.

What about their fridge? Medicine cabinet? Glove compartment? Nightstand?: She shares her fridge and people be eating her shit smh so not much lmao. Left overs, hot sauce, orange juice, water. Medicine cabinet, she has anxiety medicine, cough syrup, heat strips, tylenol etc. As for the glove compartment, the shit that comes with the car, insurance papers and shit like that. Baby wipes, lotion and more lip gloss tbh lol. She keeps her bonnet and silk scarf in her nightstand, a little brush for her hair, other important letters and shit.

What makes them laugh?: Anything, she finds shit funny that’s not even funny.

Any special holiday traditions?: No.

Can they hold their breath for a long time?: Uh.. no.

Do they know how to swim? Yeah.

Can they cook (if so, how well and do they enjoy it)?: Yes, she enjoys it but.. she’s lazy so she doesn’t cook all the time.

Is there anything they always carry with them? If so, why?: Just the normal stuff. Phone, keys, wallet.

Ideal vacation: Hm. Bali, Indonesia with Marcel. Relaxing in a spa by the beach.

If they wanted to hide something, where would they hide it?: Her room, down the side of her bed more than likely.

Do they keep a journal?: No.

Are there any places that hold special meaning to them?: Her dads place.

SITUATIONAL

24 hours to live – name 3 things they would do: Spend time with her loved ones. Cry lmao. Try and do one thing she’s always wanted to do.

If they could choose, how would they want to die: In her sleep.

What would they do if they received large sum of money?: Not gon lie, she would splurge. She’d save some too.

What would they wish for if they found a genie?: More wishes lol.

If they could have one super power, what would it be and why?: Invisibility, it’d give her a chance to be nosey shjdjf.

How do they deal with insects?: Scream. Get someone to come and kill it.

How would they react to death of loved one?: Cry. Grieve, alone.

If they were outnumbered in a fight, would they stand ground or run away?: If it’s more than two people.. run for her life tbh. 😭

Granted opportunity to change one thing in their past – would they do it? If so what would they change?: Her relationship with her mom.

If they could rescue one thing from a burning building, what would it be?: Nothing that important to go rescue something inanimate.

Would they be comfortable sharing a bed with a person they didn’t know well?: No.

CHILDHOOD & ADOLESCENCE

First memory: How her mom would act towards her as a kid.

Favorite toy (when did they stop playing with it, do they still have it currently): A Sasha Bratz doll, she stopped playing with it at 9. She doesn’t have it anymore.

Favorite game: Monopoly.

Best friend as child: A girl she knew in preschool, Miracle.

Fondest childhood memory: Summers with her dad.

Worst childhood memory: Verbal abuse from her mother.

Childhood trauma: Trauma? Nothing sticks out.

How were they disciplined? Did that change as they got older?: Yeah she used to get her ass beat but nah, not now.

What did they want to be when they grew up?: She wanted to be nurse until she realized she can’t stand the sight of blood.

Any non-family adults stick out in their mind? (Who were they, how did he/she know them? Why do they stick out)?: Nope.

Age of first date: 16

View of authority? What affected that view?: Not fond. Her parents, political views, the media etc.

What clique in high school were they associated with?: She wasn’t really associated any clique.

High school goals: She graduated.

Did they enjoy high school: Hm, yeah.

Any extracurricular activities: Sasha was a nerd lowkey, in the book club and on the debate team. Lmao bless.

How well did they do in school?: Very well. Got good grades.

#L.A. task #rhodesasha #didn't know what to put on the collage so it's blank for now lol #& i didn't proof read shit

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