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wheresmynaya · 4 years

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Lost in the Lights Ch.5 |Brittana

A/N - Hey friends! Homecoming is finally upon us - brace yourselves, it's the longest chapter yet. Big thank you to everyone that's sending in those lovely messages, it's very much appreciated! So much so that I've already got a jump on writing chapter 6. Thank you all for reading and I hope this chapter jingles your bells.

To my fellow Steeler Nation, 11-0 baby!!! (Even if that last game was so horrible🤦🏽‍♀️ )

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x)

Homecoming is finally here and Santana is a bag of nerves.

She’s trying her hardest to keep her cool and do the things she normally would in preparation for the night, but nothing’s able to distract her. It’s actually embarrassing how nervous she feels and she’s so relived that Quinn isn’t around to point it out, Lord knows that girl would get such a kick out of it.

Santana’s nearly done applying the finishing touches to her make up when Maribel knocks at her bedroom door. She lowers her mascara wand and calls out for her to come in while she turns down the music.

“Oh mija,” Maribel coos as she takes in the sight of her daughter all glammed up in her usual choice of color. She brings her hand to cover her heart as a smile stretches across her face, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks mami,” Santana mumbles a bit bashfully.

Maribel reaches out to fix a whisp of Santana’s waves that’s gone out of place, “You know I use to curl my hair just like that when I was your age.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before I did all this?” Santana jokes, “I would’ve opted to go straight.”

Maribel gives her a knowing look and Santana can’t decide if she wants to laugh or hide her face in her hands. She’s already a nervous wreck, but thankfully her mom doesn’t linger too long on her phrasing.

“Hey, your mother was hot back in the day,” Maribel warns playfully, “Who do you think you get your good looks from? Papi?”

“True,” Santana giggles.

“How come you and Quinn didn’t get ready here?” Maribel mentions, “You always do.”

Santana shrugs, “We decided to change things up this time. Her mom was getting jealous you always got to see Quinn first.”

“I see,” Maribel nods, “Well, who did you decide on taking? You never told me.”

Santana bites her lip as she turns away to find her purse She was hoping to avoid the questions until after the dance, but she should’ve known better. Still, she tries to be vague about it all.

“I’m going with someone on the football team like always,” Santana says dismissively hoping that’ll be the end of that.

“It’s not that Puckerman boy, is it?” Maribel warns as Santana comes to sit at the edge of her bed to put on her heels, “Your father hates him.”

“No, it’s not him,” Santana answers easily, too easily that she doesn’t catch the slip-up before it happens, “She’s new to the school.”

Santana freezes as panic starts to settle into her bones. She’s not sure what to expect from Maribel so she just stares wide-eyed at fumbling with the straps. The seconds that tick by feel like hours but then Maribel finally says something.

“Brittany,” Maribel says softly, “That’s her name, right? You said she was new to school the other week.”

Santana takes a peek over at Maribel to find that she doesn’t look angry. She’s just looking at Santana in that soft way moms do when they see their kid struggling with something.

It makes Santana want to cry for some reason; out of relief or out of guilt? She’s not sure.

“Yeah, I – I’m just…” Santana starts stammering for an excuse, “She was going to go alone a – and she…we thought that it would be okay because I’m a– “

“Santana,” Maribel coos as comes to sit next to Santana. She wraps an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, “You don’t have to explain.”

Santana just nods; the lump in her throat too big to get any words around. Her sexuality is still that thing no one talks about – mostly because of her father – but she’s always terrified of alluding to it too. Maribel makes her feel like it’s a little okay though as she just rubs at Santana’s shoulder until she feels the tension slowly start to ease.

“Wait,” Maribel turns to look at her, “You said she’s on the team?”

“Yeah.”

Maribel gives her a sideways smirk, “Now that you have to explain.”

Santana feels herself smiling too, “She’s the new quarterback. She’s actually really good too.”

“Is she now?” Maribel’s brows shoot up as her smile widens, “That’s amazing! Will she come to pick you up?”

Santana’s smile falters, “No. I – I didn’t know if Papi was going to be here.”

Maribel matches Santana’s frown but nods, “I understand.”

Santana gives her an apologetic smile but Maribel just leans over and kisses her temple.

“Well, I’d like to meet her one of these days,” Maribel says kindly, “If she’s dating my daughter the same rules still apply. Girl or boy, they have to come introduce themselves.”

Santana’s eyes bug out, “Oh, no. We’re not – that’s not a thing. We’re just…we’re friends.”

Suddenly Santana’s phone begins to ring loudly, making the pair of them jump at its interruption. Santana scrambles to catch the call, relieved to see the name on the screen.

“Oh thank God. Sorry Mami, Quinn’s calling,” Santana says, “Could be a fashion emergency.”

Maribel only nods as she gets up to leave the room. Once the door closes behind her, Santana answers the call but she doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Quinn’s hitting her with 21 questions.

“Have you asked yet?” Quinn says in greeting.

Santana rolls her eyes, “Asked who what?”

“You know who and what.”

“Ugh. No,” Santana says firmly, “No, I haven’t.”

“What’s the hold up? Are you really waiting until the very last minute?” Quinn groans. Santana can practically hear the girl pacing now, “It’s almost 7, Santana.”

“I don’t know if I will ask, okay?” Santana tells her firmly, “I haven’t decided yet. This is all very, very new to me and I’m scared as shit so just chill the hell out, Fabray.”

There’s a sigh at the other end of the line but it isn’t out of angry frustration. It’s sympathetic and full of understanding.

“Okay. Well, we’ll be there if you change your mind. I think you should come, maybe it won’t be so scary if you’re with your friends, you know?”

Santana nods even though Quinn can’t see her, “Yeah. Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. I’ll text you the place,” Quinn tells her before they’re saying goodbye.

Santana tries to settle her nerves again and looks to the long mirror set up at the corner of her room. She knows Quinn means well – she always does – but right now Santana just needs to focus on getting her head right. She tries remember all the little mantras she use to tell herself to get pumped up.

It worries her when they don’t really have the usual desired effect.

But then she thinks about Brittany and how that’s who she’ll be spending most of her time with tonight and that seems to do a better job of easing her nerves before she has to leave.

When Santana arrives at Brittany’s house, she realizes she actually hasn’t done this before – the whole picking up a date thing. Usually the guys pick her up at hers and Hector grills them while Santana finishes getting ready upstairs. It’s all very traditional – no surprise there.

But this? This is new territory and like she told Quinn – it’s kind of scary.

She sucks in a deep breath though and goes to ring the doorbell. She can hear Brittany’s little brother yell out something before Whitney’s opening the door.

“Oh Santana!” Whitney sighs dramatically, “Look at you, you’re gorgeous! Come in, come in.”

Again, Santana blushes at the motherly tone. Whitney has this way of making her feel kind of shy and at-home all at once and it’s kind of nice.

“Thanks Mrs. Pierce,” Santana answers bashfully as she wanders in to awkwardly stand in the foyer.

Pete is just sitting on the end of the stairs staring up at her in awe. It makes Santana giggle.

“Hey Pete,” She waves.

Pete’s cheeks bunch in a familiar way as he straightens to sit taller, “Hi.”

Santana takes note of the blue and yellow jersey he’s wearing with the number 12 on his chest and smiles, “Nice jersey.”

He looks down at it and his smile grows even bigger, “Thanks! It’s my sister’s from a long time ago. She let me have it. Wanna see the back?”

Santana smirks at his enthusiasm, “Sure!”

He jumps up and does a quick spin, “See? It has Pierce on it and look at the sleeve! It’s a dolphin. That’s Danny the Dolphin, he went to our old school.”

“That’s very cool,” Santana compliments, “I love those colors.”

“You do?” Pete’s jaw drops, “Blue is my favorite color. It’s Brittany’s too!”

“No way,” Santana looks just as surprised.

Pete jumps up to sit on the edge of the coach right next to where Santana stands, “What your favorite color?”

Santana taps at her chin, “I think it might be red.”

“I thought so,” Pete replies, “You wore red the last time you were here and now you’re wearing red again.”

Santana just chuckles at this kid’s amazing memory.

“Britt, come on now!” Whitney calls up the stairs, “Santana’s here.”

“Sorry! I’m coming,” Santana hears Brittany reply followed by quick steps that turn into heavy thuds as the blonde hurries down the stairs.

Santana steps forward, “Oh, there’s no rush – “ but the rest of her words stop in their tracks as she catches sight of Brittany for the first time. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting Brittany to wear – her outfits at school were always pretty eccentric yet tasteful – but this tops all of them.

“Oh,” Is all that Santana manages to get out.

Brittany’s baby blue tulle skirt adds the usual playfulness to her outfit while the fitted white blazer and dress shirt class it up. Santana finds herself smiling at the black bowtie around her neck; only Brittany could pull off such a combo.

Santana’s too busy staring that she doesn’t notice Brittany doing the same exact thing.

Whitney’s laugh breaks up the silence, “Both of you girls are stunning!”

“Yeah,” Pete nods and looks to Santana, “You’re really pretty.”

“Agreed,” Brittany adds as she finally comes down the last couple of steps and closes the distance to Santana, “Sorry I made you wait. I couldn’t figure out how to tie this thing. It took me like three tries. Does it look weird?”

She waves at her bowtie and Santana chuckles.

“It looks great,” Santana goes to give it a straighten before she realizes what she’s done and quickly pulls away, “Uh don’t worry about the wait, there’s no rush.”

“Okay cool,” Brittany smiles then looks around shyly, “So, do you wanna…”

“Oh! Yeah,” Santana straightens, “We can go.”

“Hold on,” Whitney stops them both as she fetches a couple of small boxes, “I’ve got a little something for you both.”

“Mom,” Brittany sighs out of embarrassment, “I told you not to get those.”

“Hush Britt, they’re just daisies,” Whitney jokes, “You can’t go to a dance without accessories.”

Brittany begins to blush as she looks to Santana and whispers, “We can take them off in the car if you want.”

Santana gets the reluctance. Corsages are something dates get for each other, it’s not really a thing friends do. Or maybe it is and Santana just hasn’t ever experience it? But seeing Brittany clam up about it has Santana smiling – at least she isn’t the only one nervous about this whole arrangement.

Santana gives her a look, “Don’t be mean. She’s got a point and I do love to accessorize.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, but relents as Whitney passes her a couple of corsage boxes.

“Hey Pete, will you help a girl out?” Santana asks sweetly as she takes one of the boxes and crouches down to Pete’s level. He’s eager to come over and carefully slides the corsage on Santana’s wrist with her guidance.

“Like that?” He asks.

She admires his work and gives him a high five, “Nice job.”

Whitney smiles at the two and glances to Brittany who’s still looking reluctantly at her own corsage. Before Whitney can offer to help though, Santana beats her to it.

“Come on. Give it here,” Santana instructs playfully, “I’ll do yours.”

Santana isn’t sure where all this confidence is coming from, but she isn’t going to complain about it now – especially when she doesn’t know how long it’ll last. It’s kind of nice having the upper hand for once. It’s rare that she sees Brittany waver, but this sort of embarrassment brought on by her mom is relatable and…kind of cute.

So Santana makes quick work of getting Brittany’s corsage onto her wrist. She’s aware of how her fingertips brush against the soft inside of Brittany’s wrist – it’s probably the first time they’ve really touched. She’s surprised neither of them flinches from it.

“Thanks,” Brittany mumbles once her corsage is secure.

“Sure,” Santana nods and takes a step back to put some distance between them, “So ready to go now?”

“Yup!”

“Wait!” Whitney stops them again.

Brittany instantly pouts, “Mom, please.”

“What? Let’s get some pictures,” Whitney says, “Let me see your phone, Britt.”

That’s when Santana’s confidence streak runs out.

Pictures get posted on the internet and once something is on the internet it’s there forever and does she want this on the internet forever? She’s overacting; she can feel it but there’s that nagging fear at the back of her mind that forces its way to the forefront. She’s been burned before and she’s still recovering from that.

“Wait,” Santana pauses just as Brittany’s handing over her phone. She’s trying to figure out a realistic excuse without making Brittany feel like she’s ashamed to be pictured with her or something like that, but she falls short.

It’s just…too intimate for her liking.

“Oh honey,” Whitney says softly, “We don’t have to if you aren’t comfortable. You both just look so beautiful.”

It’s those simple words that banish Santana’s fear for a moment. It’s the kindness and the consideration that Santana’s not use to and it has her relaxing just a little.

“Yeah,” Brittany agrees with a gentle smile, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.“

Santana shakes her head and tries to box up the rest of that terrifying feeling.

At some point she has to stop letting it win. At some point she has to take back the power. Maybe her confidence streak was spurred on by the being there at the Pierce’s and the safe space that they unknowingly created? Maybe she can practice taking back her power here?

“No,” Santana says, “We can. I just…can you hold off on posting them anywhere?”

“Oh yeah,” Brittany nods, “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Santana says softly.

“Alright you two,” Whitney shoos them together, “Say cheese!”

Pictures don’t take up too much time; in fact, Whitney only snapped a few before Brittany was reaching for the phone.

“She gets camera-happy,” Brittany had told Santana, “I’m saving us both from the blurry pictures and unflattering angles.”

Now they’re in Santana’s car pulling out of Brittany’s driveway. Santana had given Brittany free reign on music choice, so Brittany’s busy scrolling through songs on Santana’s in-dash unit. Now that it’s just them, Santana starts to feel a little nervous again.

Really, she’s caught in between feeling giddy for going with Brittany to Homecoming and feeling guilty that she’s hiding her true self when Brittany’s been so confident and accepting. Santana finds herself wishing she could be like her.

Maybe one day?

“Oh, I love this song!” Brittany cheers as she starts to play something upbeat.

Santana smiles her way even though Brittany doesn’t see it. She remembers what Quinn said about Brittany being a good person to have around – how she’d be a good influence on her – and that has Santana testing the boundaries of her comfort zone again.

“So,” Santana says with a glance in Brittany’s direction.

“So…” Brittany prompts with a chuckle.

“Have you eaten already?”

“Like dinner?”

“Yeah.”

Brittany ponders, “No, I guess not.”

“Well…did you want to?”

She can feel Brittany’s eyes on her, but she focuses on the road instead.

“Quinn and Mike invited us to meet with them if we wanted,” Santana explains shyly, “I forgot to bring it up before. It was a last minute thing. I just wasn’t sure if it was something you might want to do.”

“No, I’m totally down!” Brittany beams, “I mean, if you want to.”

“Uhh, yeah. I think it could be cool,” Santana admits for the first time since Quinn mentioned it last night.

“Awesome,” Brittany grins her way, “Where are we meeting them?”

“Breadstix? Really?” Santana deadpans instead of a greeting when she approaches Quinn.

Brittany rushes over to compliment Mike’s snazzy suit. He and Quinn had been waiting outside of the restaurant for Santana and Brittany to arrive.

“Uhm, you love this place,” Quinn replies but barely hides her smirk.

“Exactly,” Santana says, “You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist coming here. This is a trap.”

Quinn just rolls her eyes, “You ever think that this is the only damn restaurant in Lima that isn’t infested with rats?”

“Oh gross,” Santana crinkles her nose, “I don’t want to think about that before I have my ‘Stix.”

“Okay then, stop complaining,” Quinn jokes before lowering her voice, “Glad you changed your mind.”

“Don’t make it a big deal,” Santana warns quietly, “I’m barely holding it together.”

Quinn just pats her shoulder, “It’ll be fine, Santana.”

“Let’s hope so,” She says as they start to walk over to Mike and Brittany.

“You two look cute by the way,” Quinn whispers quickly.

Santana can’t even say anything witty in reply. She kind of agrees with her best friend for once.

Despite Breadstix being a popular meeting place before and after any McKinley event, the four of them are able to snag a well-hidden booth towards the back and avoid getting spotted by anyone they know. It’s strange how easy it all felt once Santana wasn’t so focused on the fear of someone seeing them together.

She slipped into the booth next to Quinn while Mike and Brittany slid into the one on the opposite side respectively. Santana thought it was a good move sitting next to Quinn instead, but she clearly didn’t think it through because now she’s directly in front of Brittany and it’s kind of hard not to stare when she’s right there.

She still can’t get over how pretty Brittany looks with her hair done up and just that tiny bit more make up on. She doesn’t think Brittany’s the type that really needs to apply much, but man…when she does, she’s stunning.

Santana also finds pretty quickly that Quinn was kind of right about it not being so scary if she’s out with her friends. It’s a weird thought, but she kind of feels safe with them like this. She can actually imagine the four of them doing this again and that thought makes her smile.

Once they order their food, they fall easily into conversation and Santana begins to give in to having a good time. In fact, it might’ve been one of the best times she’s had in awhile.

Usually Santana’s date would bring her here and they’d end up cutting dinner short so that they could make out in his car before the dance. She always hated that part; making out with guys kind of felt like a chore to her so it lost its effect a long time ago, but the messing up of her hair and make up was the annoying part. She learned pretty quickly that if she pinned their hands or told them not to touch it only made them want her more.

Now that was something she could get behind.

It gave her the upper hand and that’s kind of how she established a little reputation for being the dominant one and guys loved that about her. It was like who was man enough to tame Santana Lopez? No one was ever successful obviously because no man ever could.

She lost that power when she was outed though, but things are a lot different for her now in more ways than one.

Even if she is only going with Brittany to Homecoming as a friend, there’s no pressure of having to put out or sacrifice her dinner because she has to go make out with her date. Not that her past dates ever made her do anything, she just did what she needed to in order to solidify her status.

But with Brittany, she doesn’t have to worry about any of that and it’s a fucking relief for a change. Maybe she can actually enjoy the dance for once instead of looking at it like it’s a game that needs to be won? Then again, there’s still the matter of who will win Homecoming King and Queen and that puts things back into perspective for Santana.

She has to win – she has to – especially when there’s so much riding on this for her. It’s not just a crown: it’s her reputation, it’s her image, it’s her popularity. It’s a big fuck you to everyone that has talked shit about her behind her back.

“Santana,” Quinn calls out loudly with the snap of her fingers.

Santana blinks and notices three pairs of eyes staring at her. They all have the same look on their faces – concern, worry, confusion.

“Sorry,” Santana brushes off, “I zoned out.”

“Seriously, you looked like you were in another dimension,” Mike jokes.

Santana forces out a chuckle; she kind of was.

“Mike was just talking about his meeting with Ms. Pillsbury about college application deadlines,” Quinn supplies but there’s still a touch of worry in her brow, “Didn’t you have your meeting already too?”

Santana nods as she nibbles on a breadstick, “Yeah. She got me pretty early on. I swore she’s meant to go in alphabetical order or something? I bet my dad had something to do with it.”

“Right? My dad’s been on my case since Freshman year,” Mike chuckles and then looks to Brittany, “Have you had your meeting?”

Santana looks to Brittany too, suddenly curious about what Brittany’s plans are after graduation. Most of the students here – at least the ones that care about their futures – can’t wait to get out of Lima. She wonders if Brittany thinks the same since she’s new to the area, but she can’t imagine anyone actually wanting to stay here longer than they need to. Brittany doesn’t have to grow up here to feel the same.

“I have, yeah. It’s kind of cool how she’s checking in on everyone,” Brittany says, “With the move and being new, I thought I’d slip through the cracks or something so I did most of my college prep beforehand.”

“Where do you plan on going?” Quinn asks before Santana could.

“I’ve got a few places in mind,” Brittany shrugs as she starts to play with the straw in her drink, “I use to want to go to Florida State because some of my favorite athletes went there but I don’t think I could move that far away from my family now that we live here. I’m hoping to get an offer from Ohio State. If not, Louisville is as far as I’ll go.”

“Makes sense,” Quinn nods, “I’m looking at Yale. The farther from here, the better.”

“That’s a great school,” Brittany notes, “Why so far from home?”

“Most people here can’t wait to get away from their family,” Santana explains. She can see Quinn nod in agreement, but Brittany just shakes her head.

“Not me,” Brittany replies, “I couldn’t imagine being that far from mine.”

“That’s because you’ve got a cool mom and even cooler little bro,” Mike compliments which instantly lightens the mood.

Santana’s experienced how supportive and kind Brittany’s family is and it makes her wonder how different she would’ve turned out if her family acted similarly. She probably would’ve had a way easier time coming to terms with who she is, that’s for sure!

“Here we are kids! Have at it,” The waitress says as she brings over everyone’s meals. Once the plates are down, the previous conversation is long forgotten and they all focus back on getting excited for the dance.

Once they arrive at McKinley, that feeling of safety and security quickly leaves Santana. Now she’s back to being out in the open – exposed – and it makes her feel just a little more unsettled.

Mike happens to park close by so the four of them regroup and make their way to the entrance together. There’s strength in numbers and Santana tries to remember that as she walks alongside Brittany to the end of the line that’s heading inside. Santana makes sure there’s enough distance between them so their hands don’t accidentally touch or something that would make everything weird but knowing that’s even something she’s being weary of is weird already!

She shakes her head at how she’s already overthinking things when Brittany bumps her with an elbow. The blonde doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head at how Mike’s hand rests at the small of Quinn’s back.

Santana sees and they start to smirk. It’s enough to distract her from the meddling thoughts as they continue to wait in line.

“Oh! There’s Kurt and Mercedes,” Brittany says when she spots her friends walking up from the carpark. She then looks to Santana, “Do you mind if I go say hi really quick?”

Santana quirks her brow, surprised by the fact that Brittany’s even asking. Usually if her date saw someone, they’d just up and go to them.

“Uh yeah,” Santana nods, “Go ahead.”

“Sweet!” Brittany beams, “I’ll be right back.”

Quinn glances over her shoulder to smirk at Santana, “She’s so chivalrous, isn’t she?”

Santana narrows her eyes at Quinn before glancing down at Mike’s hand placement. She smirks when she sees Quinn blush and instantly turn out of his hold to face Santana fully. Mike just looks a little confused but turns around too so that they’re all facing each other now.

“Slow moving line, huh?” Mike comments since the two Co-Captains seem to be having a telepathic conversation.

Before either of them can respond, a booming voice calls out from behind them.

“Sup Chang!” Karofsky says and slaps Mike on the back. Azimio lingers beside him and they both look between Santana and Quinn then back at Mike, “No way you scored both of these pretty ladies.”

Santana instantly rolls her eyes and moves closer to Quinn.

“I’m here with Quinn,” Mike tells them simply, “Santana’s here with Brittany.”

Azimio shakes his head first, “Of course she is. A shame really.”

Santana feels her heart start to pound and her fist tightens, “What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Means it’s a damn waste,” Azimio laughs as he waves his hand at her, “Hot piece like you had to go and switch teams.”

“I don’t see you two idiots here with dates,” Quinn challenges. It’s enough to give Santana a boost of courage too.

“Unless you’re here together?” Santana adds.

“Fuck no! Rather come alone,” Karofsky retorts and gives Santana a grimace, “That shit isn’t natural.”

“What the hell did you just say?” Santana snaps. She feels her whole body ignite as her blunt nails dig into the palms of her hands. She can’t decide if she feels like ripping his head off or bursting into tears.

“You heard what I said dyke,” Karofsky bites back and the way the last word falls makes Santana’s skin crawl.

“Hey man!” Mike steps in. He stands a little straighter but he still looks like a twig compared to the hulking guys, “That’s enough. Don’t you two have somewhere else you can stand?”

Azimio waves him off while Karofsky just laughs, “What? You in on it too?”

“Sticking around for a show later?” Azimio adds as he pokes at Mike’s chest.

Mike slaps his hand away, “Back off, dude. It’s not like that.”

Azimio doesn’t take too kindly to being challenged and soon he and Mike start to shove at each other.

“What are you gonna do?” Azimio instigates, “Lady Lips isn’t here to back you up. You’re all by yourself.”

That’s when Mike shoves Azimio hard and it has Karofsky and Azimio fired up. They start to egg Mike on even more while Santana and Quinn try desperately to pull him back before it gets any worse.

“Go ahead, let him go!” Azimio challenges, “Let’s see what the Asian’s got.”

Thankfully Coach Beiste sees the commotion and jogs over. She puts herself between the guys and shouts, “What the hell is going on here?”

Azimio and Karofsky settle instantly, “Nothing Coach, just messing around with Mike here.”

Mike’s fuming still but Quinn’s got her hand in his and she’s rubbing at his arm with her free one. Santana just keeps glancing between the guys and Coach Beiste.

This is exactly why she has been so terrified. The people at this school are so damn ignorant and she’s too sensitive about it all to defend herself. She can’t rope Brittany into this, she can’t subject her to the bullshit she has to deal with.

“Well cut it out or you’re not getting in,” She orders, “Now go! End of the line!”

Azimio and Karofsky just huff before moving on. Coach Beiste glances at Mike but he just gives her a nod before she’s heading back to the entrance.

It’s then that Brittany jogs back over with a cheek-bunching grin on her face, completely oblivious to what just happened. It instantly falls though when she notices Mike still relatively frustrated and Quinn trying to console him – even Santana doesn’t realize she still clenching her firsts until Brittany speaks.

“Hey,” Brittany greets softly and looks to Santana, “What’d I miss?”

Santana looks to Mike and she gives only the subtlest shakes of her head. She doesn’t want to get into this tonight. She doesn’t want her drama messing everything up so it’s best to keep Brittany in the dark.

It’s enough that he understands what she’s trying to say without saying so he only looks away.

“Nothing,” Santana smiles and hopes that Brittany doesn’t try questioning it. She nods ahead of them, “Oh look, the line is finally moving.”

Brittany spins just in time to see everyone begin to move forward and that’s the end of that.

Once they enter the gym, the group moves to find an empty table near the rest of the Cheerios and Titans. The lights are dim and there’s enough going on between everyone arriving and the music that Santana’s able to avoid Brittany’s curious stares.

“There they are!” Sam cheers once the group gets close enough. His date – Sugar – is hanging off his arm while she chats excitedly with one of the girls on the squad. He reaches over to bump fists with Mike and Brittany, “You guys look really great! You all do. Santana and Britt, you guys got the whole fire and ice thing going on. It’s so cool!”

Brittany and Santana glance at each other’s outfits – Brittany in blue and white, Santana in red.

They chuckle at the coincidence.

“Thanks Sam,” Santana answers then glances to Sugar who’s finally turned to acknowledge the newcomers, “Hey Sugar.”

“Hey Lopez. Hey Quinn, Mike,” Sugar waves then looks to Brittany and goes to fist bump her similar to Sam, “Sup Britt.”

Brittany just chuckles, “Hey Sugar.”

“Come sit,” Sugar says to them with the wave of her hand, “We saved you seats near us. Sammy? Can you and Mike grab us some punch?”

Santana rolls her eyes at Sugar’s bossiness. It’s nothing new to her; Sugar’s kind of known for being a brat but she’s mostly harmless. She slips you twenties for a multitude of reasons so no one really complains.

Sam just shrugs, “Sure thing.”

When the guys head off, Sugar leans on the table and lowers her voice, “So I heard that Missy Gunderson is in the lead for Homecoming Queen.”

“What?” Quinn gasps like it’s the most scandalous thing she’s ever heard.

Santana just leans back and shakes her head, “No way. That’s bullshit.”

“Who’s your source?” Quinn questions, “JBI?”

“You know I can’t reveal that,” Sugar replies, “Just know that they’re reputable.”

“So not JBI?” Santana jokes.

Brittany watches the whole thing unfold and does her best to keep up. Santana notices and it has her itching to comment on how hard the blonde is concentrating. It also has her itching to tell her she’s kind of cute for it but she catches herself before that slips out.

“It isn’t JBI,” Sugar tells them, “But they always know the juiciest gossip so I trust it.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Santana says instead, “Remember the last time you heard something? You were completely off.”

“True,” Quinn nods.

“Okay so I have like a 95% accuracy rating,” Sugar brushes off.

“Says who?” Santana laughs.

Sugar looks at her like she’s lost it, “People, duh. Who else?”

“I’m not believing a word you say,” Santana continues to laugh, “I don’t even know how you came up with that number, but if anyone’s going to win it’s either me or Quinn.”

Sugar just looks to Brittany, “Who are you voting for?”

Between Santana and Quinn, they know the answer but it’s a little funny seeing Brittany put on the spot like that.

“Uh well,” Brittany chuckles nervously, “I’ve already sworn my allegiance to Santana so…sorry, Quinn.”

Quinn fakes an eye roll, “I’m honestly heartbroken.”

Sugar just shrugs, “I’m just going to vote for myself like always.”

Santana only shakes her head as Mike and Sam return with their drinks.

“We did not think this through,” Mike jokes with Sam as they hand out cups of punch. They’re both extremely cautious of the red liquid sloshing around but manage not to spill a drop.

“I’ll go up again to grab ours,” Sam offers, “I think I saw some snacks over there too.”

“Thanks guys,” Brittany says before she’s offering to clink her cup with Santana’s.

A small smile tugs at Santana’s lips as she obliges.

“Cheers,” They say in unison before they take a sip.

This is why she decided to come with Brittany; this carefree feeling she emits is something Santana only hopes that she can absorb by just being around her. It seems to be working so far and she instantly feels much lighter than earlier.

“Hey, there’s Kurt!” Brittany cheers a moment later as her kicker takes the stage with some others she recognizes from the Glee Club. Her call out was loud enough for him to hear so he smiles shyly her way.

To Santana’s surprise, no one at the table starts to boo.

That’s usually what the Titans would do when one of their own does something like sing on stage in front of the whole school, but now that Brittany’s Team Captain a lot has changed. Santana eyes the team and none of them say a word – they just watch the performance quietly. She even sees Puck bobbing his head and again she’s surprised that no one’s calling him out for it either.

Maybe Brittany really is changing things around here?

When Kurt finishes his song, Brittany rises and starts to clap. She’s the only one at first, but then Mike and Sam join her along with the rest of the Titans then the entire room is clapping.

Santana just looks to Quinn to see if she’s seeing this too. They’re both pretty shocked.

“Go Kurt!” Brittany hollers then starts to pump her fist in the air.

Kurt just blushes through his thanks and scurries off the stage as Rachel comes out next. The Titans settle back down but Santana’s just staring at Brittany like she can’t believe her eyes.

“What?” Brittany chuckles.

Santana averts her gaze, “I – I’ve never seen the Titans cheer for someone that’s in the Glee Club. That’s like…unheard of. Making fun of them is a core belief.”

“Well not anymore. At least, not for the Titans,” Brittany says simply, “Kurt’s apart of this team and my guys know how I feel about being supportive of him.”

“Wow,” Santana lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “There’s no way that would fly on the Cheerios.”

“Why not?” Brittany asks. Her tone isn’t challenging, she’s just genuinely curious and it makes Santana’s smile falter. “Aren’t you and Quinn Co-Captains? Don’t you have the power to change the culture of your squad if you want?”

Santana and Quinn exchange a look, because it’s not something they’ve ever thought of before. Coach Sylvester makes it hard to do anything different since she’s been coaching the Cheerios from the beginning of time. The culture isn’t something created by the squad or the captains, it was created by her.

“No one on our squad is in the Glee Club,” Quinn comments but it doesn’t exactly answer Brittany’s questions.

“Maybe that’s because they never felt comfortable enough to join?” Brittany suggests, “Maybe that’s something you two can change before you graduate? Something positive to leave behind rather than the same hurtful cycle.”

Santana softens, suddenly feeling a little guilty.

She can admit that she hasn’t always been the nicest and she can try to make an excuse for it but really…there isn’t one. There are certain expectations she has to honor because of her social status, but the same kind of expectations are applied to Brittany too whether she knows it or not.

The only difference is that Brittany doesn’t let those expectations define her. She has no problem breaking tradition if that tradition sucks.

“And that’s why you’re gonna win!” Sam says proudly and goes to high five Brittany.

Brittany just gives him a playful eye roll before meeting him in the middle.

A while later, the Co-Captains and quarterback make their way over to cast their votes. The music is loud and upbeat; Quinn’s leading the way along the backside of the dancefloor with Santana and Brittany following side by side behind her.

Santana doesn’t miss the longing stares Brittany sends towards the crowd. She looks like she’s seconds away from running off to join them and it makes Santana chuckle.

“You know, you can go out there if you want.”

Brittany looks away to find Santana smirking, “Are you going to come with?”

“I don’t dance,” Santana tells her. She hears Quinn huff from in front of her and she can just picture Quinn’s hazel eyes rolling at her answer.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Brittany jokes with her brow quirked, “I’ve seen the Cheerios’ routines. You dance.”

Santana rolls her eyes at Brittany’s teasing tone, “That’s not dancing.”

“Okay then,” Brittany laughs, “Show me what is.”

Santana’s eyes go wide at the challenge and it feels like her heart skips a beat too. Brittany’s giving her that famous mega-watt smile and Santana’s finding herself wavering the longer she stares. Of course she dances, but it’s different if she agrees to dance with Brittany.

Brittany’s her date and they’d definitely turn a few heads if they were to go out on the dancefloor together. She’s not sure if she wants that kind of attention though.

But…Brittany’s also her friend and friends dance together all the time. It’s like the perfect loophole and that’s kind of their thing now, right? Skirting the lines between what Santana will allow and what she’s too afraid to try.

She feels like she’s at a crossroads and has both the devil and angel on her shoulders whispering away. One’s telling her there’s nothing to worry about while the other says she’s crazy if she thinks anyone’s going to make this easy for her.

Really, she just wants both of them to shut up already.

Meanwhile, Brittany’s still patiently waiting for a response so Santana just goes with her gut instinct – which happens to be a complete flirt apparently.

“I’m not sure you can handle that, Pierce,” Santana says.

Brittany just chuckles again, “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

Quinn looks over her shoulder and gives Santana an impressed nod. Santana doesn’t let it get to her head though as they come to the polling booth where Coach Sylvester sits at small table staring everyone down.

“Hey Coach!” Quinn greets.

“Q, Sandbags,” Coach Sylvester gives them a nod before glancing at Brittany, “I don’t have a name for you yet.”

“It’s Brittany,” Brittany supplies.

“Don’t care,” Coach Sylvester shrugs, “You ladies here to vote?”

“Yes Coach,” Santana and Quinn answer almost robotically. Brittany just nods.

“Alright then. Single file, I want eyes on each of you,” Coach instructs, “There isn’t going to be any funny business this year. Not on my watch!”

Quinn, Santana and Brittany do as they’re told and fall in line.

“What does she mean by funny business?” Brittany whispers to Santana while they wait their turn.

“Last year some idiot stuffed the ballot box with write-in votes for Butt-Muncher McGee,” Santana answers, “It was a whole ordeal.”

“Pretty sure that was Puck,” Quinn adds.

Santana nods, “Probably.”

Coach Sylvester then beckons for Quinn to step up so that she can hand her a ballot before directing her into the booth. When the Coach looks back at the remaining girls, her eyes cut to Brittany.

“You,” She points out, “Lady Titan.”

Brittany stands taller, “Yes Coach?”

The Coach’s eyes narrow like she’s trying to analyze the quarterback.

“I saw that no-handed cartwheel you landed at the Pep Rally yesterday,” Coach informs her, “Your execution needs some work.”

Santana glances up at Brittany but she continues to stand as stoic as ever.

“Thank you for the feedback,” Brittany says politely just as Quinn exits the booth.

“If you were on the Cheerios I could turn you into a champion,” Coach replies then looks to Santana, “Come and grab your ballot, Lopez.”

Santana nods and does as she’s told again but she much rather stand and watch whatever’s going down between the Coach and Brittany.

Once inside, she sets her ballot down on the counter and reaches for the pen. It’s weird; she has never really given too much thought when it comes to voting. She just checks off her name and whatever Titan is up for King without a second thought purely because she never cared about who became King just as long as she was Queen.

This time though, the only Titan there is Brittany.

Seeing the blonde’s name diagonally from her own makes her feel…fluttery inside for all sorts of reasons – reasons that she doesn’t want to unpack at the moment. Most of the time these things are just popularity contests, but for once Santana sees someone on the ballot that actually deserves to win.

And God, she’s really hoping that this isn’t some elaborate prank.

She wants to believe Quinn and Sam so bad, but a part of her can’t shake the fact that the students of McKinley have a history of being assholes. If it ended up taking a turn of the worse, Santana doesn’t know what she’d do…maybe trying kicking everyone’s ass?

She’s not sure how far she’d get though.

“What do you say, Blondie?” Santana hears the Coach ask, “Being a Cheerio is quite the privilege…”

Santana’s brows rise at the offer.

It’s rare that Coach approaches anyone so Santana quickly checks off her boxes: a vote for herself and a vote for Brittany. When she slips the ballot into the box and exits, she finds Brittany smiling politely at Coach Sylvester once again.

“Cheerleading isn’t really my thing,” Brittany tells her as she steps up to take a ballot, “Thanks for the offer though.”

Coach Sylvester grimaces and gives a nod to the booth, “Go.”

“She’s so pissed,” Quinn whispers through her smirk as Santana joins her.

“No one turns her down,” Santana replies, “She doesn’t usually offer spots either.”

“Yeah,” Quinn nods then there’s a pause before her tone turns playful, “So can we talk about how you two were shamelessly flirting earlier? You can’t even deny it because I saw that face you pulled. Are you really not going to dance with her?”

“Oh my God. I’m not doing this,” Santana groans although her cheeks instantly flush. She avoids Quinn’s stares by walking away.

“Santana. Santana!” Quinn calls after her, “Stop walking away from me, we have to wait for Brittany. Santana!”

Santana ends up finding an even better loophole and wanders out onto the dancefloor with Quinn, Sugar and Brittany where they dance together in an awkward little circle. She’s probably the only one that thinks it’s awkward though, everyone else is having a blast. Quinn’s doing her usual sway from side to side, Sugar looks like she’s being electrocuted and Brittany’s…just perfect.

Seriously, the way she moves is so fluid and she actually has some rhythm. It’s hard for Santana to keep her gaze moving. If she lingers too long on Brittany, she’s sure those moves would have her hypnotized. All in all though, she really is having fun dancing with everyone. This night might go down as one of the best she’s had all school year.

“Attention students,” Principal Figgins announces as the song fades, “Will the candidates for King and Queen gather on the stage.”

Suddenly Santana’s weirdly nervous again, not only for her but for Brittany too. When she looks to the blonde by her side, Brittany’s just giving her a lopsided grin.

“Good luck,” She whispers with a soft touch to Santana’s shoulder before she’s making her way to the stage.

Santana gives her a single nod before she glances to Quinn who’s gesturing for her to follow in the opposite direction.

It feels like they’ve done this a million times before but the nerves have never been like this. Usually she stands proud with her chin held up high as she awaits the winners to be announce. Usually she isn’t afraid because when you’re popular there isn’t much to be afraid of; you’re at the top of the food chain, none of them can touch you.

But again, this year is different.

They’ve seen her crack before. They know she has a weakness, everyone knows it aside from Brittany. Still, she does her best to muster all the courage she has and finds her place beside Quinn and Missy.

“I love your dress Santana,” Missy compliments but Santana can tell by her tone that she’s being fake like always. It makes her eyes roll.

“Wish I could say the same for you,” Santana quips, “I see we’re recycling last year’s dress.”

Missy’s jaw drops and the fake niceness is gone, “Are you kidding me? I had this flown in from New York. It’s custom made.”

“You should ask for a refund,” Santana smirks; even that little bit of banter has her feeling somewhat normal.

“The votes are in,” Principal Figgins says flatly, “This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for where we announce our Homecoming King and also Queen.”

Santana feels her hands go cold and clammy despite the hot spotlights they stand beneath. She swears Figgins is talking even slower than usual and it can’t just be for the dramatic effect.

She chances a glance towards the other end of the stage where Brittany stands between Rick and Scott. Santana thinks Brittany might look a little anxious too, because her usual mega-watt smile isn’t as big and bright.

“Roll the drum, please,” Principal Figgins instructs as he opens the first envelope, “This year’s Homecoming King is…”

Santana finds herself holding her breath at the long pause. She glances to Brittany again then back at the crowd like she’s trying to guess what Figgins is about to say, but their expressions are unreadable.

“Brittany S. Pierce!”

Everyone applauds; the Titans are the loudest – Santana can hear Mike and Sam over all of them – as Brittany steps up to be coronated. Her cheeks are a little pink but her smile is back to being cheek-bunching and bright.

“PIERCE! PIERCE! PIERCE!” Mike and Sam chant in unison while the other Titans pound their fists against the table in perfect rhythm.

“Quiet down,” Principal Figgins tells them but they keep on going for a few more seconds until Brittany’s waving for them to settle down.

Santana’s surprised; not because Brittany won, but because it doesn’t seem to be a prank.

One look at the crowd has Santana’s mind changing. She watches the edges of the stage for anything out of the ordinary like a group of Puck Heads with extra large slushies or Karofsky and Azimio up to no good, but no one is there.

The only ones that look annoyed are Rick and Scott and the guys from the Hockey team, but they always look like that.

“Congratulations, Miss Pierce,” Principal Figgins says as Brittany does a little curtsey before the crowd.

Santana finds herself smiling proudly as Brittany does her best royal wave before the crown is placed upon her head.

“She really did it,” Quinn whispers to Santana.

Santana’s still too surprised to say anything.

Typically, nominees that attend the dance together usually end up winning together as well so to see Brittany win has Santana feeling giddy. It’s a bittersweet feeling though because this is exactly what she wants, but it would also make her the Queen to Brittany’s King and that both excites and terrifies her.

Then she gets to thinking…maybe the prank isn’t on Brittany?

Maybe the prank is on Santana instead?

“And now,” Principal Figgins continues as Brittany takes a step back, “Your McKinley High Homecoming Queen is…”

Santana’s heart is racing. It would make sense; Brittany’s not phased by being nominated King but the whole school knows what it would do to Santana if they made her Queen.

She’d have a total meltdown!

She’s waiting for a vat of pig’s blood to be thrown on her like in Carrie or the cold whiplash of a slushie facial, but then Figgins is announcing the winner and it’s a weird mix of relief and disappointment when she finds that…it isn’t her.

“Quinn Fabray!”

Santana can hear the surprised gasp from her best friend as the crowd erupts. She feels like all eyes are on her, watching and waiting for a reaction. She gets that same feeling she had just before the Pep Rally like the walls are closing in on her and she can’t breathe.

This is it. This is the end of her reign as one of McKinley’s biggest and baddest.

She feels cold fingers wrap around her forearm and it pulls her from her thoughts.

“Santana,” She hears Quinn mumble.

Santana can feel herself smiling but she knows Quinn can see through it. It isn’t genuine because she can feel the tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m – “

“Stop,” Santana tells her even if her ears are ringing. She can just hear the apology forming and she doesn’t want to hear it, “I rather it go to one of us then that stuck-up bitch.”

Missy Gunderson scoffs at them.

“Miss Fabray?” Principal Figgins prompts but the two continue to hang on to each other.

Quinn shakes her head, “It should be you. I voted for you.”

Santana feels her throat tighten, “Don’t worry about me. Go get your crown, Q.”

Quinn nods and puts on her pageant smile as she approaches Figgins.

“Congratulations, Miss Fabray,” Principal Figgins says as the crown is placed upon Quinn’s head.

Santana claps the hardest, but it doesn’t cover up the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“And now, behold the tradition of our Homecoming King and Queen sharing their first dance,” Principal Figgins announces as the Glee Club takes the stage.

The nominees are directed off stage while the students on the dancefloor create a circular opening for Brittany and Quinn. Santana watches longingly as they make their way down the steps.

She joins Mike, Sam and Sugar standing at the front of the opening as the band starts up with the first chords of Miguel’s Pineapple Skies. Artie’s on lead vocals and Santana would be in awe of how good he actually sounds if she were able to focus on anything else but her best friend and her date dancing together.

And maybe Quinn’s right, maybe it should be Santana out there but Santana doesn’t know if she would be brave enough. Quinn obviously has nothing to worry about, no one’s ever questioned her sexuality before.

But if it were Santana there instead? She can just hear the questions now: So Santana really does play for another team?

And if she were to say yes, what would happen? Would she endure the same kind of treatment everyone else who is different endures? Would they make her life a living hell like they did last year?

“It’s so cool Britt won,” Mike says to her while they watch Quinn and Brittany groove to the music, “She’s awesome.”

“Let’s hope that’s the only reason why she won,” Santana mutters without thinking. A part of her is still paranoid that something bigger is going on and she keeps an eye out for anything suspicious.

Mike frowns though, “What do you mean?”

Santana shrugs as she watches Quinn try to twirl Brittany, “You’ve seen how people at this school treat those that are different. Just look at Karofsky and Azimio earlier. How do you know they didn’t do this?”

Mike instantly softens, “Those guys are jerks, Santana, but I promise they have nothing to do with Brittany winning.”

Santana looks up at the sound of him being so certain.

“Everyone on the team agreed that she should win,” Mike explains, “We all voted for her, couldn’t have a Puck Head as King, but it’s more than that. She’s our quarterback.”

Santana’s lips part but she says nothing.

Once again, she let her own insecurities take her on a joyride.

“Plus, you’ve got to admit she’s a pretty cool person,” Mike shrugs as Quinn lets out a laugh at Brittany trying to do the robot, “Maybe she’s starting to change people’s minds about what it means to be different? Maybe they’re starting to see that it’s okay?”

Santana bites her lip. Maybe Boy Chang is on to something?

“Well…they could’ve at least amended her title,” She replies, “Just because she plays football doesn’t mean she wants to be a King. Female quarterbacks can be Queens too.”

“True,” Mike nods, “But she doesn’t look too bothered by it.”

They both continue to watch Brittany and Quinn dance together. At least it’s an upbeat song so they don’t have to do the whole awkward slow dance thing. They both look like they’re having a blast though and Santana finds herself wishing she could be that carefree.

“She really does look beautiful though,” Mike comments dreamily.

“Yeah she does,” Santana whispers with her eyes still on Brittany.

He glances to his side and quickly amends his previous statement, “Quinn, I mean.”

Santana only smiles, “Yeah. She does too.”

She doesn’t realize what she’s said until Mike’s raising a brow at her and there’s a small smirk starting to grow.

Santana narrows her eyes at him, “Don’t say a word.”

All Mike does is gesture that his lips are sealed before turning away.

Santana really isn’t worried about him. Of all the guys at McKinley, Mike’s probably the most decent one there is so she knows she can trust that he’ll keep her slip-up to himself.

Still, she can’t believe the slip-up happened in the first place.

It’s probably the first time she’s ever voiced her attraction for Brittany out loud and now that she’s said it, it’s harder for her to deny. It also makes it harder for her to watch Brittany dance with Quinn.

Santana recognizes that she’s becoming a little jealous and immediately feels guilty about it. It’s not Quinn’s fault that McKinley chose her, that’s not why she feels jealous. It’s because she’s not the one still struggling to accept a huge part of herself and that makes Santana feel even worse.

She’s just so tired of caring too much about what everyone’s thinking about her.

\\\\\

Shortly after the honorary first dance, Brittany is quickly swept up in people wanting to congratulate her. Kurt is one of the first and he practically launches himself into her arms for a big hug.

“You make a magnificent King, Britt,” He compliments before he pulls away to bow.

Brittany giggles at the display then Mercedes and Tina are congratulating her next. Before she knows it, she’s surrounded by Titans and Cheerios and other students she recognizes from class. She’s polite and thanks them all for their votes – even if she’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that so many of them chose her – but she’s quick to notice a particular someone missing from the crowd.

Brittany’s able to dodge the rest of the students as their attention is drawn to Quinn who has pulled Mike to her side. She bumps into Sam and Sugar as she starts to look around.

“Sorry. Have you seen Santana?” Brittany asks, “I saw her standing with Mike just a minute ago.”

Sugar only shrugs, seemingly unbothered or bored, then goes over to talk to Quinn. Sam scratches his head and looks around too.

“Sorry Britt,” He says, “I didn’t even notice. Maybe she’s gone to the bathroom?”

Brittany nods, but she has a funny feeling that Santana won’t be there.

She saw the look on her face when they were on stage, it was like Santana was about to puke up there. Brittany didn’t get it; wasn’t Santana meant to be a pro at this stuff? Could it be stage fright? No, that’s silly. She’s a Cheerio, she performs for crowds all the time so there’s no way she’s terrified of the spotlight.

It has to be something else and that has her worried.

“I’m going to go check on her,” Brittany tells him.

“Sure thing,” Sam smiles before going to join the rest of his friends surrounding Quinn and Mike.

Brittany actually finds Santana rather quickly. She was on her way to check the bathroom when she noticed someone sitting outside in the courtyard. She recognized Santana’s red dress through the foggy glass of the window and slowly made her way out to join her.

What she doesn’t expect to see is the cigarette in her hand; she didn’t think Santana smoked.

They’re still on school property so to see Santana being so open about it kind of shocks Brittany, but at the same time it doesn’t surprise her at all. With Santana’s bad girl reputation, Brittany wouldn’t expect anything less. Whatever makes you look cool, right?

“There you are,” She says in order to make her presence known. She sees Santana flinch and lower the cigarette from view. It makes Brittany chuckle; as if that would be enough to hide the fact that’s she’s out here smoking.

Santana looks over her shoulder as Brittany comes around to sit on the stone bench across from her.

“Hey Pierce.”

Brittany smirks, “You know I have first name, right?”

“I know.”

“And yet, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it.”

Santana matches Brittany’s smirk before taking another drag, “Nice crown.”

Brittany touches it like she forgot it was there then shrugs, “It’s alright. I’ve seen better ones at the party store.”

Santana gives her a wry chuckle before exhaling. Brittany’s quick to pick up on the tension but she can’t determine what’s the matter.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Santana answers but her voice cracks. It looks like she didn’t expect it too and quickly averts her gaze and focuses on taking another drag.

Brittany ducks her head and softens her tone, “You sure?”

There’s a deep sigh, “No.”

Santana’s still looking everywhere else but Brittany. The blonde isn’t deterred though; eye contact is spooky especially when you’re feeling vulnerable.

“What’s up?” Brittany asks trying to sound casual.

She doesn’t give an answer for a long time. They just sit in a heavy silence until Santana has to stub out her cigarette. Now that her hands aren’t busy, they wind together in her lap.

“I haven’t been very honest with you,” Santana admits so softly Brittany almost didn’t hear her.

“Okay?”

She has never seen Santana look so small and it has her crossing the short distance between them without even thinking about it just so she can sit closer. She’s not sure what Santana could possibly be lying about, but she’s an understanding person. Whatever’s going on, Brittany just wants to show Santana that she can be a good friend.

Santana takes a shaky breath and twines her fingers so tightly together that her knuckles begin to pale. Brittany so badly wants to reach out and ease them from the harsh grip, but that’s sure to be overstepping some boundary.

“So,” Santana breathes out. Brittany watches her lips part before she laughs dryly at how the words seem to get stuck, “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” Brittany whispers encouragingly, “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

It’s then that Santana finally looks up at her and it makes Brittany’s breath hitch. Her brown eyes are tinged red and they flicker between Brittany’s like she’s searching for something there.

Then she’s licking her lips and preparing to speak again.

“So, There’s another shaky breath and an even longer pause then she says, “I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Brittany exhales without thinking. She instantly blushes because that’s not what she wanted to say but she’s so surprised that it was all that came out. Santana’s still looking on edge so Brittany quickly gives her a reassuring smile, “Wow. That’s great, Santana.”

Something shifts for the brunette and it’s like a sigh of relief hits her. The stiffness in her shoulders ease and the anguish on her face starts to fade.

“I can see why people struggle with finding the right thing to say,” Brittany jokes in attempt to lighten the mood. Her cheeks feel hot, “I’m sorry, I’ve never been on the other side of this before. I wish I could’ve thought of something cooler to say.”

That seems to ease Santana yet again, even a small smile starts to form.

“But seriously,” Brittany continues as she ducks down to look Santana in the eye, “That’s really awesome, Santana. Thank you for telling me.”

Santana’s small smile falters as she shies away from Brittany’s gaze, “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Don’t be,” Brittany assures her, “That’s a silly thing to be sorry about. You should tell people whenever you feel comfortable enough. This is about you.”

Santana bites her lip, “I guess I’m not use to that as an option.”

That makes Brittany wonder, but she doesn’t go for a deeper dive.

“Well I appreciate you telling me. It’s a brave thing to do.”

“Brave?” Santana scoffs, “I just wanted to tell you before someone else did.”

So others know? Brittany wonders.

“Well even then,” Brittany replies instead, “I’d still wait for you to tell me yourself. I’d never want to assume, not about something like this. I know how it feels and it kind of sucks.”

Santana looks up at her through her long lashes, “So you are…? Am I allowed to ask?”

Brittany chuckles at how unsure Santana is – it’s a little adorable – but she quiets down and gives her a nod, “I’m bisexual.”

“Okay,” Santana nods too, “I’m…I’m sorry if that was insensitive. I don’t really have much experience when it comes to this as you can probably tell. I’m not friends with anyone else who’s…you know.”

“Gay?” Brittany supplies easily. She softens when she sees how the word makes Santana tense, “You can say it, it’s not a dirty word unless you make it one.”

Santana smiles at that, “I think I’m still trying to get use to saying it out loud. Shit, I’m still trying to get use to saying it in my head.”

“I get it,” Brittany chuckles, “I’m sure the people at this school don’t make it easy for you to be yourself, huh?”

Santana sighs, “Something like that. You’re probably the last to know.”

“Okay,” Brittany goes to bump her shoulder with Santana’s playfully, “You don’t have to rub it in. I know my gaydar isn’t the best.”

Santana chuckles and it makes Brittany feel a little accomplished, but the feeling fades when Santana gets swept up in a deep thought.

“Why do I get the feeling that there’s more to this?” Brittany asks hesitantly.

“Because there is,” Santana answers, “But I don’t want to get into it tonight.”

Brittany respects that, “Is that why you’re out here?”

Santana shrugs, “Kind of.”

“Okay,” Brittany says and goes to straighten up. She opts for a lighter tone, “Well, we don’t have to talk about it then. We can just sit out here if you want? Talk about how cute Mike and Quinn are together?”

Santana glances her way with a quirked brow, “Did you see how they were holding hands earlier?”

“Uh, yeah!” Brittany beams, “The sparks were totally flying before I came looking for you.”

Santana chuckles and after a moment she says, “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to ditch you.”

“It’s all good,” Brittany shrugs as she looks up at the dark sky. A couple stars twinkle above and it makes her smile, “It’s kind of nice out here.”

Santana nods and they fall into a long, comfortable silence. Brittany’s fine with it, it’s a nice break from the crowd that was forming around her inside. It’s nice to just sit with someone.

“You know,” Santana starts quietly, “I’m out I guess but sometimes it feels like I’m not. It feels like I’m still that scared little girl hiding in the closet.”

Brittany frowns at the brokenness.

“I’m just so over being afraid all the time,” Santana grumbles, “It sucks pretending to be someone I’m not. It sucks feeling like an embarrassment.”

The last word is what confuses Brittany the most, “An embarrassment?”

“Yeah,” Santana shrugs and she looks so helpless again, “I just…I wanted to prove to everyone tonight that I still got it you know? So what if last year was shitty for me? I can still rule this place because nothing has changed. I’m still the same person.”

Brittany’s questions are piling up but the way Santana’s voice cracks again grabs her attention.

“I just can’t believe I lost,” Santana croaks and Brittany swears she can see tears in Santana’s eyes, “After all of that, I couldn’t even win a damn crown.”

Brittany frowns at the sound of Santana’s bitter laugh and she’s trying so hard to bat away the tears before Brittany can see them fall. It’s like she can’t let Brittany see her in such a vulnerable state and it breaks her heart.

Brittany doesn’t think before she reaches up to remove the crown from her head.

“Take mine then,” She offers.

Santana goes to argue but her words fall short when Brittany places the crown on Santana’s head instead. She smiles at how it’s a little crooked and a touch too big.

“Looks good,” Brittany compliments.

“I – I can’t take this,” Santana says as she reaches up to remove it, “This is yours, you earned it.”

Brittany stops her hand from moving any higher, “I don’t mind giving it away, especially when it means so much more to you.”

Santana’s lips part and twitch to form a smile at how Brittany’s hand lingers atop of hers but then her brows furrow as she pulls away, “I wish it didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Brittany nods, “But in this moment while we’re young and dumb and care about silly things, it does and that’s okay. It isn’t just a crown for you. It’s acceptance.”

Santana looks at her like she’s surprised by what she hears; Brittany is too if she’s being honest.

Santana catches another falling tear with the back of her hand and lets out a embarrassed laugh, “God, this is so stupid. Why do I have to care so much about what everyone thinks of me?”

“One day you won’t,” Brittany assures her as she reaches into her blazer. She finds a couple tissues there and offers them to Santana.

“Thanks,” She whispers behind a watery smile.

Brittany just nods, “I think it’s only natural to care, especially here. Everyone cares way too much about what everyone thinks of them. It would drive anyone a little crazy I think.”

Santana dabs beneath her eyes, “It sucks.”

“Yeah,” Brittany chuckles, “It kind of does.”

“Were you always like this?” Santana wonders while she tries to dry her tears, “So sure of who you are?”

“I was being called a tomboy from when I was like 6,” Brittany jokes lightly, “People have been trying to tell me who I am and fit me into a box my whole life. I wasn’t very sure of myself for a long time.”

“Oh,” Santana frowns.

“I’m not an angry person but it always made me a little mad inside and that stuck with me as I grew up,” Brittany tells her, “I only made it even worse when I started playing sports in school. It felt like everyone was labelling me before I could even explore who I was.”

Santana sighs, “I can relate.”

“I guess after awhile I got tired of being so annoyed by it all,” Brittany says, “People are always going to talk, they’ll always have their own ideas about who you are, and you can’t really change that. What you can do is change how you react to it.”

“Makes sense,” Santana replies.

“Maybe I grew a thicker skin or something or I finally became immune to listening to what everyone else had to say about me,” Brittany continues with a shrug, “I stopped focusing on them and started to focus on me. I embraced all my awesome and once people saw that, they embraced it too. I was being the authentic me and I’ve been told by at least one person here that it’s kind of inspiring.”

Santana smirks at the sound of Brittany trying to joke with her again, “Was it Kurt?”

“Yeah,” Brittany giggles.

Santana just shakes her head as she takes a steadying breath.

“I’m sorry about this,” She says with wave at herself, “I didn’t really anticipate having a whole breakdown at Homecoming. It’s probably not what you signed up for.”

“I signed up for a night out with a friend,” Brittany assures her with a smile, “It’s been good to me so far. What about you? You know, aside from the obvious.”

Santana chuckles, “It’s been good to me too.”

“Sweet,” Brittany beams then leans back to look up at the night sky as they settle into another bout of silence.

Brittany’s just replaying their conversation in her head.

She learned a lot about Santana tonight and maybe the most important thing she learned is that Santana is pretty sensitive at heart. It’s so unlike the persona she puts on at school around everyone else but it makes sense, because that’s the role she feels the most comfortable playing.

It’s no wonder she’s struggling to adapt.

When Brittany glances at Santana, she finds the brunette staring up at the sky too. Her crown still sits perfectly tilted on Santana’s head and it makes Brittany feel all fuzzy and warm inside. She hopes that she’s able to offer Santana some type of comfort whether its her words or by giving away her crown, because Santana doesn’t deserve to feel so horrible about herself.

Brittany hopes that maybe in some small way she has shown Santana that the things she feels are normal and she isn’t alone and if she needs someone Brittany can be that person for her too.

But just for good measure, Brittany adds one last thing.

“None of this is really matters – you know – like in the grand scheme of things,” Brittany mentions and it has Santana looking back at her, “Years from now when everyone’s moved on, no one’s going to remember who won what. It’s all a stupid game with stupid prizes and none of it is going to matter once you graduate. At least that’s how I look at it.”

Santana softens, “You’re kind of a genius, Pierce.”

Brittany doesn’t think anyone’s ever called her that before and the smile she wears shows it.

“Do you want to go back in?” Santana asks awhile later, “We’ve been out here long enough. You probably want to get back in there.”

“Only if you want to,” Brittany shrugs but as soon as she says that she remembers the horde of people still wanting to talk to her. Maybe she would rather run far, far away instead?

“I usually don’t stay the entire time,” Santana tells her.

Brittany quirks a brow and jokes, “Too cool?”

“Maybe,” Santana smirks, “You want to get a coffee instead?”

“A coffee?” Brittany laughs, “It’s nearly 9:30.”

“What?” Santana teases, “Getting close to your bedtime?”

“Maybe,” Brittany quips before rising to her feet, “Is the Lima Bean even open at this time?”

Santana shakes her head, “I know place.”

Brittany just shrugs before holding her hand out to Santana, “Let’s go then before one of us turns into a pumpkin.”

“If it’s only 9:30 I think we’ll be safe,” Santana giggles as she lets Brittany pull her to stand, “I’ll just let Quinn know we’re going first.”

“Okay sure,” Brittany starts to walk towards the door when Santana catches her by the wrist.

“Uh…you might want to wear this so no one thinks I stole it from you in a jealous rage,” Santana says jokingly as she pulls off the crown.

“I think I could take you,” Brittany laughs then bends down a little so that Santana can place the crown back on Brittany’s head. She makes a few adjustments so that it sits just right before tucking a stray hair behind Brittany’s ear.

“Perfect,” Santana compliments as she pulls away.

Brittany only blushes as Santana opens the door for them both.

\\\\\

As soon as Santana told Quinn that she and Brittany were leaving early to get a coffee, she swore Quinn was going to pass out from all the excitement. She ignored all of Quinn’s usual comments in favor of teasing her about Mike and how they’ll be spending their night instead.

That shut Quinn up real quick.

Now they’re at Elliott’s Fairgrounds – a café Santana found halfway through her Sophomore year – and they’re chatting away over a couple of hot chocolates. Aside from some old guy that looks to be asleep in one of the arm chairs near the fireplace and the two baristas behind the counter, they’ve got the place to themselves.

“Woah,” Brittany breathed out when they first entered the small townhouse that had been converted into a cozy café, “This is so much better than the Lima Bean.”

Unlike their competitor, Elliott’s Fair Grounds was a lot more down to earth and gave off such a laid back vibe. The owner – Elliott – prides himself on creating a safe space for all kinds of people and that’s really what drew Santana in. Most of the time the place is filled with students from the local community college busy studying, but on a Saturday night it’s usually empty – just how she liked it.

Brittany’s still wearing her crown and Santana can’t get over how the blonde doesn’t give a single fuck about it. Not that any of the staff here would ever tease her, but Brittany just carries on like usual and Santana kind of loves that about her.

“It’s so cool being in a café at night,” Brittany comments as she swipes her finger through the whipped cream atop her mug, “It’s like an alternate universe or something.”

“Yeah. No one here to bother me,” Santana chuckles before admitting, “The Lima Bean can get a little crowded. I use to come here all the time last year.”

“Why’d you stop?” Brittany asks as she cleans off the tip of her finger.

“Uhh…” Santana swallows dryly and glances at the baristas behind the counter just so she doesn’t stare but it only further reminds her of the answer. She’s already spent so much of their night talking about herself so she opts for something simple, “I guess I’ve just been busy.”

Brittany seems satisfied with the answer, “Well maybe this can be our new thing then? We can like…come here once a week or something?”

Santana smiles at the thought of doing something like this together on a weekly basis.

“Yeah,” She nods, “I can be down with that.”

After the drinks and the conversations, Santana gets Brittany home at a respectable time even though Brittany said she didn’t really have a curfew. Santana was instantly jealous – if she isn’t home by 11 on the dot, her parents would kick her ass.

That had Brittany laughing as they pulled up to the Pierce residence.

“Well you’ve got about 15 minutes left,” Brittany jokes, “Think you’ll make it?”

Santana chuckles, “Totally. I don’t live too far from here.”

“Okay good,” Brittany grins, “I don’t want to be the reason you’re getting into trouble.”

“So considerate,” Santana teases and then they fall into a moment.

Santana recognizes it the second it happens.

They’re alone in her car at the end of their time together at Homecoming, Santana knows what usually happens next from her past experiences. This is where the guy would put his heavy hand on her thigh and lean in for a messy goodnight kiss. Some dates were better kissers than others – for example, Puck even if he’s an ass – and Santana would oblige because that’s what she’s supposed to do.

Girls kiss boys, boys kiss girls.

Only, that’s not always the case because here she is and she’s not sure what to do. Brittany’s her friend but the things she feels in the pit of her stomach aren’t feelings she gets around a friend. She tries to imagine that it’s Quinn in the passenger seat and they’d usually hug before she leaves.

Is she allowed to do that with Brittany? Should she ask? Is that lame as hell? Probably.

“Wow, you are really spinning those gears,” Brittany chuckles which has Santana going beet red in an instant.

“I – I was going to tell you something but I couldn’t remember what it was,” Santana lies.

“Right,” Brittany nods, “Well, text me if you do. I’m going to hug you now because it looks like you need it.”

“Oh,” Santana chuckles at how easy Brittany makes it all seem as the blonde leans over the middle console. Her long arms wrap around Santana in a warm hug and it’s hard for the brunette to keep from humming at how nice it feels.

“Thanks for a great night,” Brittany says softly and her breath tickles Santana’s ear, “Thanks for telling me about you too.”

Santana’s heart feels so full it’s about to burst. Brittany’s probably the best date she’s ever had. No one’s ever shown her this kind of kindness and understanding. She actually doesn’t want this to end so soon now.

“Thanks for listening,” Santana ends up saying in reply as Brittany pulls away.

“Well goodnight, Santana,” Brittany says as she goes for the door. She gives her a soft smile, “Get home safe.”

Santana just nods, “Goodnight.”

It’s not until Santana’s at home getting ready for bed that she notices she hasn’t stopped smiling since. Even as she’s brushing her teeth and she has a mouthful of suds, her grin is still ever so prevalent.

It only grows bigger when she sees her phone light up on her night stand. She walks over to check it while her toothbrush is still hanging out of her mouth. There’s a text from Brittany and she’s quick to open it.

From Brittany – Here’s all of those pics we took earlier. You can do whatever you want with them, I don’t mind. I think we look pretty good, don’t you?

Santana stands there for a moment admiring each and every one of the pictures attached to her text and she can’t help but agree. Brittany’s beautiful and that smile…man, Santana hasn’t seen a prettier one in her whole life. She looks pretty good herself too, but for once she’s not looking too much at herself in these pictures.

They kind of make a good-looking pair in these and maybe she even sets her favorite one as Brittany’s profile picture in her phone but she doubts anyone needs to know about that.

It’ll just be her little secret.

#Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #this is so long wtf LOL

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sentofight · 3 years

Note

HELP for Chloe and Rebecca

action meme | no longer accepting | @pieman1112

[ HELP ] for the sender to help the receiver clasp/buckle a necklace/watch!

The young princess was getting ready for a ball her teacher--Maribelle had invited her to which would be a good way for her to learn first hand from her. Oh how she was excited! Chloe picked the best dress she has, the best accessories and brushed her hair. She wanted to look the best to honor her name and Maribelle for inviting her over. She cannot be but only the best!

The maids helped her get ready when Rebecca walked in to check on her daughter before she departs to Thames dukedom for the party. “Mother! How do I look?” she did a quick twirl and posed afterwards. Rebecca giggled and told her she would be the prettiest girl in there. “Heh, that’s but of course, Mother! I have not only the best dress but the best lineage.” sometimes what she says can be worrisome. Chrom and Rebecca’s last child is a bit spoiled and prideful. "I am Father and Mother’s child! What else can I ask for? Hehe~” she twirled again not noticing how that worried her mother. Unlike her siblings, she has literally anything she wants plus the attention of both Rebecca and Chrom. “Hmm...” the last piece was a necklace but she was having trouble fixing it so Rebecca stepped forward to her help her then gave her a hug to tell her that she needs to not depend on her mother or father. Rebecca wishes for her to find what she wants, what she is good at. Chrom and Rebecca cannot be there for her all the time, sadly. eventually they will ...die. Her siblings have their paths figured out and Chloe still clings to the names of her parents.

Chloe’s face arched down, hands clenched to the fabric of her dress, not saying a word.

#IN CHARACTER.| C H L O E #pieman1112 #:eyes:!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Mistress of the Sea (3/3)

He comes into the tavern whenever he's docked in Misthaven, always following his crew and settling down at the table in the center of the room, ordering a rum before falling into telling a rousing story that has the entire room roaring with laughter. It's like that for years, and Emma gets used to watching Captain Killian Jones in his element on land, idly wondering what he must be like when at sea. They speak to each other, enough to know names and to be comfortable in conversation, but he's rarely around long enough for her to truly know him, his mistress of the sea always calling him home.

And yet he always returns to Emma.

Rating: Mature (mostly this part)

A/N: I literally have no idea where part three of this came from, but here it is! I was saving it for an event posting later this month, but since I have something else for that now, I figured why not share it now?

You don’t need to have read the first two parts to understand, but they do help💜

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Tag list (those of you who liked the first two parts): @juneqparis @darkcolinodonorgasm @effulgentcolors @xemmaloveskillianx @spartanguard @jonirobinson64 @jennjenn615 @hookedonhiddles @resident-of-storybrooke @bmbbcs4evr @kmomof4 @shireness-says @scientificapricot @onceuponaprincessworld @badwolfandtimelords @nikkiemms @sarart13 @jamif @facesiousbutton82 @emmythedaydreamer @wellhellotragic @captainsjedi @thejollyroger-writer @galaxyzxstark @mayquita @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl

-/-

“You need more rum.”

“Alright.”

“And whiskey.”

“I’ve got it.”

“And I think the sheets upstairs need to be replaced soon as well.”

Emma scribbles the words down on her parchment, the ink of her pen marking her fingertips, before bending down to brush a kiss across Oliver’s cheek, making his cheeks redden in a way that’s only obvious because he’s been cursed (or blessed according to his father) with her pale skin and scattered freckles. He’s the most handsome seven-year-old boy in all of the kingdoms with his dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes, eyelashes as long as she wishes hers were, and a gap-toothed smile that makes her days every time she elicits one from him.

For someone who was never sure that she wanted to be a mother, her son makes her question that train of thought every single day, even on the days where he refuses to eat his dinner and disobeys her orders.

Meeting Killian and falling in love with him in this tavern over months and years changed everything for her, and the kid helping her take stock of the tavern is just one of the many tangible things that prove that.

The small toddler with dark black hair and blue eyes, tanned skin with no freckles to be seen, walking between the tables talking to the dwarves is another one of those proofs.

Her little Maribel.

“Mummy,” Oliver sighs, his shoulders shrugging as he hops up onto the countertop despite how many times she has told him not to do that, “can we have dinner soon?”

“Ruby is making you something.”

“Ruby doesn’t make good food.”

Emma rolls her eyes, unable to stop herself, before she adjusts her trousers on her waist, the pants far too big for her now, and reaches over to pick Oliver up and place him back on the ground. The children spend their days with her in the tavern when they’re not at the school building or at home with Killian, and considering it is the summer holidays and Killian is somewhere miles and miles away, they’ve been constants at her sides. She doesn’t mind. She quite likes that she gets to spend time with them, especially because Oliver truly is such a big help. He gets his meticulousness from his father, and even when it drives her into madness, she loves the way that both he and Killian will sit outside of their front door at the cottage and straighten the fence posts or the way that Oliver will arrange Killian’s novels in his quarters on the Jolly.

Thinking of his captain’s cabin, thinking of the small bed with a warm quilt and soft pillows and the gentle rocking of the waves makes her heart ache with missing him. It’s almost unbearable some nights, her heart and mind attacking her wondering where her husband is, if he’s safe, if he’s coming home soon, if he’s coming home at all. She’s always been an independent person because of her lack of upbringing, someone who never relied on others, and while she gets on just fine without Killian home, she wants him home.

Or she wants to be out at sea with him.

Wherever he is, she would like to be there as well and be by his side every single day.

Life isn’t quite the same without him flirting with her while she works – he often pretends that they haven’t been married to each other for eight years now whenever his crew visits the tavern, and when he does this, he flirts with her much more openly and with more explicit detail than he ever did when he was her patron – or taking the children fishing and teaching them to read in the daylight hours. Her life is fuller with him and the crinkles around his eyes that she likes to trace in the early morning light. He often smiles at her, a crooked little thing, and then leans forward so that his lips can connect with every bit of skin that she has.

Her husband is a man who has killed, who has stolen, who has scars from life that he has taken and given, but in the mornings when the warm sunlight shines through the window in their bedroom and he’s smiling at her how he does, she can see nothing but love in the blue of his eyes.

The blue that is full of a lifetime spent on the ocean and yet is infinitely better than the sea in every conceivable way.

“There’s not a day will go by I won’t think of you.”

“Good.”

Her heart aches for the blue, and even the exact substitute that she sees in the eyes of her children cannot replicate it.

The glint isn’t quite right.

She would know. She can see those eyes even when her eyes are closed and darkness surrounds her.

“Ruby makes perfectly good food,” she tells Oliver, placing her hands on her hips and staring down at him with squinted eyes that she knows make him listen. “Why don’t you go help her cook? She’s always telling me that you’re her favorite partner.”

“Even more than Maribel?”

“Only because you can reach the shelves.”

Oliver nods his head and darts past her and back into the kitchen. Ruby is most definitely going to despise her for sending Oliver back there when she’s trying to finish baking the bread for tonight as well as cooking a stew for them. If Ruby didn’t love them the way that she does, and maybe if she didn’t need the extra help, Emma knows that she would not have this job to return to whenever she’s home in Misthaven for long enough periods of time to need to work to fill her days and her coin purse.

(Ruby has been her closest friend for over a decade now, and under no circumstances would she ever ask her to leave the tavern even if she’s not the most reliable barmaid. Her children and husband? Yes. Her? No.)

“Oi,” Leroy calls out from his spot in the corner, several ale mugs already in front of him, “yer wee lassie is climbing up my boots, Mistress Jones.”

“Maribel,” Emma calls out, already walking out from behind the bar to cross the old wooden planks that need to be swept again. “Maribel, darling, don’t climb on Leroy’s boots.”

“Papa’s boots.”

Her eyes glance down at Leroy’s boots, and while they don’t truly resemble Killian’s, she can see how someone who is not yet three could get them confused with the boots her Papa wears. Killian’s left a pair sitting just inside the entrance to their cottage, and Maribel passes by them, nearly right at her eye level, every time she so much as enters the main part of their cottage.

Her heart could not possibly ache any more than it already does tonight.

“My darling,” she sighs, bending down and scooping Maribel up into her arms so that she rests at her hip, “those are like Papa’s boots, aren’t they? I think Papa’s feet may be too big to fit in them though.”

“No,” she giggles, her eyes scrunching up like Killian’s do.

Heartache.

“Oh, I think so. Papa has the largest feet you’ll ever see. Larger than even a giant.”

“Papa is small.”

“I think you and I are not talking about the same man here, my love.”

“Wench,” a man huffs, his voice dripping with disdain, “I didn’t come here tonight to watch you coddle your bastard. I’m out of rum. Fetch me some more.”

Anger bubbles up under her skin, the desire to reach into the strap inside of her trousers and grab her knife just at the surface. They get assholes in here every now and then, travelers from outside of town and drunks who don’t know any better, and she’ll never not be someone who rises up in defense of her children. She has made plenty of mistakes in her life, Killian too, but their children deserve no hatred.

None.

“Get out of here, you buffoon,” Ruby shouts, coming out of the kitchen with Oliver at her heels. Emma knows that the word buffoon was simply because children are around, and Emma both loves her and hates her for it when the man is a fucking asshole.

“Why the hell should I listen to you, bitch?”

There’s a collective murmur around the tavern, a familiar one really, and Emma grabs Oliver’s hand and tugs him along with her to get out of the way. Graham and Anton will be inside in a minute, the two of them usually making their way inside when there’s a commotion, but in all honesty, Ruby doesn’t need them to handle men like this.

“Well,” she scowls, stepping up to him, “for one, I own this tavern, and I only serve who I want. Secondly,” she holds up a finger as she gets closer, their height discrepancy lessened by the height of Ruby’s confidence, “I know how to use any and all weapons. And finally, and I think you might like this one best, the woman whose child you just called a bastard, is Captain Killian Jones’s wife.” His face pales, and Emma can barely hide her snicker. “Ah, so you know who he is then? I imagine you do, and I imagine you’ll want to leave now and strongly consider never coming back. The Captain is here most nights. I believe he’ll be in later tonight, but he had some business to attend to.”

If the man had a tail like a dog, it’d surely be stuck between his legs as he nearly runs out of the tavern, his hip bumping into tables and knocking over chairs. Emma suspects that’s all intentional, especially when he slams the door with such ferocity that the entire building shakes, but when it all settles down, all of their patrons break out into laughter, the sounds of joy coming back to the Mistress of the Sea.

“You have too much fun pulling that line,” Emma sighs at Ruby as the woman walks toward she and the children.

Ruby smirks, something so similar to Killian that she wonders if all of the people in her life have the ability to do that or if she’s starting to imagine things. “It’s too damn entertaining. Even if your husband wasn’t a seafaring man with good looks you hear stories about, you marrying him would be worth it simply to terrify folks like that.”

“Why would someone be scared of Papa?” Oliver asks innocently. “He’s not scary.”

“That’s because he loves you, kid. Your Papa would go to the ends of the earth to protect us, and sometimes that means he scares people.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I wouldn’t suspect that you do.”

The rest of the night passes quickly, the tavern rather subdued, and she leaves Ruby and Ashley to take care of things as she walks the children home, Maribel sleeping on her shoulder and Oliver holding her hand as they walk down beaten, sand-filled paths. She knows this walk like the back of her hand, and even if they do live a few minutes too far from the tavern and the docks, she likes the way their cottage is secluded enough for them to have safety and privacy, as well as their own strip of sand. The sea breeze wafts past her nose, salt in the air surrounding them, and the smell relaxes her as she opens the front door to the cottage and sends Oliver off to his room to change into his sleep clothes as she lights the lanterns so that they have more light than the simple moonlight.

She’ll bathe the children in the morning and wash all of their clothes, but she’s simply too tired to do all of that right now.

By the light of the lantern, she reads Oliver and Maribel one of their stories, softly recreating the voices of different characters. She can’t do it quite like Killian can, but she likes to think that she’s gotten better. The complaints have certainly lessened.

Maribel falls asleep first, Oliver soon after, and she closes the book and blow out the lantern light before kissing each of their foreheads and closing their bedroom door so that she can move to her own bedroom, changing out of her clothes and into one of Killian’s shirts. She has her own nightgowns, pretty ones that Killian brings home for her, but she likes the way Killian’s shirts fall across her thighs and keep her mostly covered but also cool during summer nights.

She swears that it still smells like him too, and that makes it all the better.

Her hair takes far too long to brush out, and sometimes she’s tempted to cut it more and make it more manageable, but she knows that she’d miss the plaits she can do with it and how Killian runs his fingers through it when they’re talking. It’s a part of her, and once it is smoothed out, she finds that she doesn’t hate it so much.

She loves it.

And she loves how easily she falls into slumber that night when she’s been struggling with sleeping lately.

-/-

There’s a creak against the floorboard, and Emma’s eyes immediately open as she quickly sits up and reaches for the knife that she keeps underneath the bed. Her heart is beating far too quickly to be healthy, and she’s ready to fight whoever has invaded their home in the darkness of the night.

Or not.

Because standing above her is the man whose blue eyes she’s been dreaming about.

The dreams don’t do them justice.

“Killian,” she breathes out on a sigh, dropping her weapon to the floor so that it clatters against the wood. It takes less than two seconds for her to rise from the bed and launch herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and…he’s so solid against her, warm and firm and feeling just like he did when he left. And he smells like he did, inviting and salty with the smallest hint of leather. His hands are welcomed and rough as they move up her bare thighs, holding her up against him, and she can feel her heart still beating wildly in her chest. And she can also feel his as the proof that he’s very much full of life. “Hi, my love.”

“Hello, Swan,” he chuckles into her neck, his breath hot in a way that sends shivers down her spine and his accent so damn pleasant that a sob gets caught in her throat, “I’m glad you decided to embrace me instead of killing me.”

“I thought you were an intruder.”

“I know I’ve been gone for a good while, but I wouldn’t think that your husband is an intruder. Don’t you remember me?”

Emma unburies her face from his neck so that she can look at his face in an attempt to soak all of this in and prove that she’s not dreaming. It’s difficult to see in the dim light, but she can see enough to look at his tanned skin and the thick stubble that resides along his jaw and over his lips. He hasn’t shaved in what looks like weeks, and while she doesn’t dislike it, she much prefers when he’s close shaved, his stubble a pleasant scratch against her skin. He also hasn’t cut his hair, the dark fringe falling messily over his forehead, and she imagines she’ll be cutting it sometime tomorrow.

Tomorrow. He’ll be here tomorrow.

“I think you may need to remind me,” she murmurs before tilting her head forward and gliding her lips over his. He tastes of salt, but that’s not what she truly notices when she can feel the softness of his lips mixed in with the odd feeling of his beard. It’s slow, reverent, thorough, and she can’t stop moving her lips over his while never staying long enough in one spot to keep deepening the kiss.

There are too many places to kiss for her to stay in one place.

“I can do that, my mistress.”

“Can I be your mistress when I am your wife?”

“You will always be my mistress of the sea,” Killian whispers as he leans her forward and softly places her on the bed, the mattress soft against her back as her husband peppers kisses across her jaw while his hands slide up and down the outside of her thighs, pulling her shirt up to rest at her hips. “Have you been sleeping in my shirt this entire time, darling?”

“Some nights,” she answers honestly, tilting her neck to the side to give Killian access as he trails his lips across her skin, sending sharp shivers down her spine and causing heat to pool between her thighs. “Other nights in one of the nightgowns you’ve bought me, sometimes I’m wearing nothing at all.”

He squeezes her thighs then, and his fingers inch over them so that he’s brushing against the inside of her legs where she’s sensitive, the rough pads of his fingers bring her pleasure. “Why Mrs. Jones,” he mumbles into her ear, his beard still scratching at her skin in an unfamiliar way, “how scandalous. Don’t you know that it’s improper for you to wear nothing to bed? It is not the way of a lady.”

Emma chuckles, unable to help herself, and uses her hands to grab onto Killian’s cheeks and pull him to her so that she can see his eyes again and the little red mark on his cheek that she’s missed. Oh, and the quirked brow. She may have missed that most of all.

“Don’t you know?” she mock gasps, pressing a kiss to his scar. “I’ve never been a lady, but I truly ruined my reputation when I married a pirate of all things.”

“You’re my lady,” he says before he captures her mouth with his and presses his body weight further onto hers so that she can feel the hard lines of his stomach and the muscles of his thighs, the comforting weight that comes with him being on top of her. His kiss is somehow gentle and rough, possessive really, and the way that he’s running his tongue over the seam of her lips has her opening up to him so that their tongues can tangle together in a hot slide that has Killian groaning when she pushes her hips up to his to feel the friction that she wants, that she needs.

“You are my lady,” he pants again, pecking her lips before kissing the indent in her chin and moving down her neck to kiss the hollow of her throat. “And you are my mistress.” His lips run along her collarbone now, harshly biting down, and she gasps, pleasure and heat continuing to curl within her as gooseflesh rises on her skin. “And the mother of my beloved children.” He runs his tongue down the concave between her breasts. “My closest companion.” He noses away the fabric covering her now before lightly kissing a tightened nipple. “My wife.” Killian looks up at her now through his long, dark lashes, and she smiles down at him while her hand runs through his thick, soft hair that’s got bits of the sea situated in it. “You are my everything, and I have sailed all of the seas to come home to you.”

Then his tongue is circling her nipple and his teeth are biting down. Her hips arch up in response, and she can feel his growing hardness against her bare thigh. Every doctor in the realm would worry about her heart for the way that it’s beating within her chest, but there is nothing to worry about. She is simply in love with a man who is her everything as well.

She is in love with a man who is home.

The two of them have been intimate with each other for nearly a decade now, and while there are times when it is not necessarily thrilling, she knows from talking with other woman that their intimate times are not quite like what she has. Their husbands and lovers do not always take the time to bring them pleasure as Killian does with her, so she revels in the time that he spends lavishing her breasts, in the time that he spends with his dark head of hair buried between her thighs as he brings her pleasure that cannot be replicated by anything else in the world.

That��s always one of her favorite things.

But so is the way that Killian’s jaw clenches when her lips kiss at his hip, at the inked skin of her name written on his flesh, and how he arches his hips off of the bed when her fingers brush over his length in smooth motions that she knows that he enjoys. The curses that curl off of his tongue, deep and dark, stir her on as she takes him in her mouth and hums around him. There’s something wonderful about how much she can control his bliss, can bring him to feeling so wonderful, but then Killian is gently pulling on her hair to bring her away from him.

“Darling,” he pants, running his hands down her arms and squeezing her upper arms, “I love you, but I have been without you for seven weeks. I will burst if I am not inside you soon.”

She nods her head up and down before crawling up his body and settling herself over his hips, the tip of his cock brushing against the sensitive flesh between her thighs, and she slowly guides him into her so that he can stretch her, fill her, be within her, the two of them connected in every way.

“I love you,” she murmurs while starting to roll her hips. “I have missed you, have missed the feeling of you inside of me.”

“I have missed the feeling of being within you.” His fingers tug at the hem of her – his– shirt until it’s pulled above her shoulders, leaving her bare, and while one hand stays steady on her hip, the other comes to hold her breast. “You are so beautiful, my beloved.”

It’s a subtle, slow rocking of hips. She props her hands behind her back, fingers curling into the sheets, and Killian cants up into her to further sheath himself inside of her. They are experts in a quick fuck, in bringing each other pleasure as quickly as possible when they don’t have much time or the adrenaline is high after a dangerous night out on the waters, but they are moreover experts in relishing in the way that they join, in relishing in the way that their love allows them to fall apart slowly with stolen breaths and muttered words of love and affection.

Never again will she allow him to leave her for this long.

Never again.

It’s what she always says, every single time, and yet at least once a year, she has to watch him go. It’s the life of someone whose husband is meant to spend time on the ocean and with his crew. She cannot keep him with her, with their children, when there is a job to be done, a life to be lived, and what is seven weeks out of a long year when she gets a lifetime with this man?

Later, when they are both sated and there’s an ache between her thighs that she knows she will carry with her all of tomorrow, she curls into Killian’s side, her fingers tangling into the soft hair on his chest and her leg stuck between his calves. It’s perfect, especially with the way that Killian’s strong arm is wrapped around her shoulder and his fingers toy with the tips of her hair.

“Do the children look the same?” he ponders, pressing his mouth to her forehead and lingering there.

“Maribel’s hair has grown and gotten curlier, and I think she might be the slightest bit taller. Oliver is most definitely taller, and he’s lost some of his teeth. He looks ridiculous.”

Killian chuckles into her hair, and she feels his lips again. “Would I be horrible if I went to wake them up now so I can see them?”

She slaps his chest. “Yes! They already had a late night, and not even their Papa being home will wipe away their crankiness. Besides, I want you all to myself for as long as I can have you.”

It’s a quick tilt of her head upward to kiss his jaw before she settles back down against his shoulder.

“Will you take tomorrow off from the tavern? I think I’d like to have you and the children to myself as well. I don’t like traveling without you all.”

“I’m sure you and the crew get to have much more fun without all of us around.”

“Bloody hell, no, Emma. They all love you. It’s a bit disconcerting. It was just us for so long, but now, whenever we voyage without you, every man on that ship whines over not having you to talk with or to tell stories. I swear to you, darling, when I give an order, they look around for you like you are the Captain.”

“I always knew I had a commanding presence.”

“Aye, that’s very true. Scarlet has likely missed you as much as I have.”

“Good. I’ve missed him. The kids have too. I’m going to invite him to dinner when I next see him.”

“He’s already invited himself.”

She chuckles at that, burying her face into his shoulder and breathing in the salty smell of him, both the sea still on his skin as well as the sweat that formed during their lovemaking. “Are you going to tell me about your travels? Where did you go? Did you bring home any gold?”

“Ah, I knew you were only with me for my gold.” “You’ve foiled my plan.”

A sigh passes through his lips, and he straightens his shoulders, curling a bit more into her and tugging their quilt higher on the bed. “I will tell you everything you want to know, but Emma, I think I need you to tell me everything about your time here. I thought of you every day, and I want to make up for every moment that I’ve missed.”

-/-

When Emma wakes, the first thing she notices is the sunlight filtering through the window and the drapes, everything cast in a soft glow as her eyes adjust to yellow glow that’s brighter than she’s used to waking up to in the mornings. The second thing she notices is the lack of her husband in their bed, and when she runs her hand over the spot where he sleeps, it’s cold to the touch. For a moment, she worries once more that last night was a dream, that he’s not truly home, but the ache between her thighs and purpling bruise on her collarbone tell her otherwise.

Surely it was dreamy, but it was not a dream.

Slowly, she rises from the bed, moving over to her chest to find a shift to wear for this morning. She could get fully dressed, but since she doesn’t plan on leaving their cottage anytime soon, there is truly no point in wearing anything other than a pale blue shift that keeps her from walking around without clothes, which is perfectly fine with she and Killian, their children not so much.

The bedroom door is cracked when she goes to open it in search of Killian, and it doesn’t take long to find him. He’s sitting at the table, a plate of sausage and eggs in front of him that he must have gotten up and cooked, and Maribel is curled up in his lap with her arms wrapped around his stomach as much as she can reach and her unruly head of hair resting on his chest while she chews on a piece of bread. Oliver is sitting across from them, his hair sticking up in the back, and he’s very much eating off of Killian’s plate.

For as glad as she was to see Killian last night and as glad as she was to keep him to herself for a few hours, there are few sights like him sitting with his children listening to them talk over breakfast. It’s a routine in their life, one that happens whether they’re on land or sailing the seas, and it’s something that she didn’t know that she missed so damn much.

All of her loves in one place again. It’s the closest to perfection that life can get.

“And then,” Oliver gasps, his mouth very obviously full of food, “the man was loud with Mummy, but Aunt Ruby came out from the kitchen and told him that he couldn’t be mean to Mummy because you were going to show up.”

“Oh, was I going to protect Mummy then, lad?” Killian questions, raising a brow and winking so that she knows that he’s seen her this morning.

“Yes. You’re a pirate, so you have to protect Mummy and me and Maribel.”

“Is that what a pirate does?”

Oliver shrugs his shoulders. “Sometimes. You also drink lots rum and wear lots of jewelry with skulls on them.”

“Ah,” Killian sighs, spearing a piece of sausage with his fork and offering it to Maribel before he takes a bite out of it himself, “you are right on that, but I think you have more that you need to learn about being a pirate. I think I’ll have to take you and your sister to spend some more time on the Jolly Roger soon. Your bunk is waiting for you there.” “What?” Emma laughs, finally stepping away from the doorframe and walking toward her family, the wood cool beneath her feet. “Do I not get invited to spend time on the Jolly Roger and have pirate lessons?”

“You do, darling,” Killian smiles, tilting his head up so that she can press a kiss to his lips, one, two, three times. “Your bunk is waiting for you as well, preferably with me already in it.” He waggles his eyebrows at that, and she slaps his shoulder. The scoundrel. “But I think today I want to go to our beach and do a little swimming, maybe even some fishing, yeah?”

“Shells?” Maribel asks, looking up at Killian so that he can bop her nose.

“Aye, my little love, we can collect your shells as well. I have a jar of them that I’ve brought home for you to display above our fireplace.”

-/-

Emma’s knees are tugged up to her chest as she watches Killian and Oliver stand in the water with fishing poles in their hands. Killian has on a pair of old trousers that have been rolled up to his calves, but the water is still hitting them and soaking through the brown material. Those two have been standing in the water for nearly an hour now, and they haven’t caught a thing.

Not one.

And she’s not entirely sure why Killian hasn’t moved to another spot where the fish are more plentiful, but honestly, she thinks that it’s because Oliver keeps giggling and splashing about and Killian doesn’t care enough about catching them some dinner when their son is having such a good time.

(She doesn’t care either.)

“Mummy, look,” Maribel speaks quietly. She’s holding a handful of red and white shells, most of them unbroken but a few chipped on the sides.

“Those are beautiful, darling.” Emma holds her hand out to take them from Maribel so that she can carefully place them in the basket. “You’re doing so well in your collections. Papa is going to be so happy to see them.”

This gets a big grin out of Maribel, and Emma has to roll her eyes the slightest bit. The man leaves them for seven weeks, and yet he’s still got them wrapped around his finger.

(It’s the same with her.)

“We can keep them?”

“Yeah, kid, we can keep them. I’m going to put them in their home with all of the others.”

“I’m hungry.”

Emma laughs at the sudden change of subject, which is pretty common for this one, and she reaches forward to grab Maribel and start running her fingers over her stomach so that Maribel starts laughing in a fit of high-pitched giggles that could probably be captured in a jar and sold as pure joy.

“You’re hungry?” Emma teases, keeping her fingers moving as her daughter squirms. “What are we going to do about that, huh? I think we need to complain to your Papa and your brother that they aren’t catching us fish for dinner.”

“M-mummy,” Maribel squeals, her entire face scrunched up in laughter. “I want a sweet cake.”

“Maybe tomorrow, lovely,” Emma sighs, picking Maribel up and kissing her cheek. “Tomorrow we’ll go down to the docks and let Papa buy you a sweet cake, okay?”

Emma stands from the ground, the soft sand sinking below her feet, and picks Maribel up to rest on her hip while she walks the two of them out to the water, the bottom of her dress soaking with salt water. She needs to find some shorter pieces to wear when they’re on their secluded slice of the beach because there is really no other way to enjoy the ocean than letting it hit her bare skin as Killian swims around her.

“Darling,” Emma calls as she walks up to Killian and Oliver, “Maribel tells me that she’s ready for supper, and yet I don’t think the two of you have caught any fish.”

“Aye, well, the fish don’t seem to be as welcoming to my return as all of you are. Did you scare them off while I was away by telling them tall tales about me?”

“Papa, fish don’t talk,” Oliver corrects him.

“Fish talk like the ocean does, lad. Just because we do not speak their language does not mean they do not have one of their own.”

“I think you got too much sun on your trip, and now you’re crazy.”

She and Killian both snicker at Oliver’s words, the two of them unable to hide their laughs at him. Or rather with him. He’s such a smart child, one she cannot believe is her own, and one day she simply knows that he is going to grow up to be just like Killian.

They could all be so lucky.

-/-

“Should we move them to their beds?”

“Not now,” Emma sighs, leaning back into Killian’s chest and bringing his hands around her waist to rest on her stomach.

They came inside from the beach not an hour ago, staying out there much longer than anticipated when Killian and Oliver miraculously started to catch a few fish and then Maribel insisted that everyone continue to collect shells with her. All of their skin is a little darker than before and thankfully not red with burns, but Emma can tell that their children’s tiredness stems from a day out in the sunshine with little reprieve. It was wonderful in every conceivable way, but so is sitting in their den with Maribel and Oliver sound asleep on the plush rug while she and Killian sit together on their cushioned chair.

He may have spent most of his time today with their children, as he very well should have, but now that they are asleep, all of his attention is back to her, as it very well should be.

At least for these few moments.

Killian sighs behind her, and she feels his lips press into the skin at her shoulder, his nose moving away the fabric of the nightgown she’s changed into. “They are so wonderful. I never thought – after I lost Liam and Milah, I never thought that I would want to have children or would want to bring them into this world, but I cannot thank you enough for giving them to me.”

Her heartbeat stutters as emotion lodges itself in her throat, and all she can do is lean back further into his chest and squeeze his hands over where they reside on her stomach.

“It was a team effort, but since I did do most of the work, I will take that compliment.”

Killian laughs behind her, his entire chest moving with it so that she moves too. “No one in all of the realms has a wife with as much humor with you, I swear to it. I have asked hundreds of men.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“You are impossible.”

“And you love me for that.”

“Aye,” he mumbles, kissing her shoulder again while his nails trace patterns into her stomach and over her wrists, “I do. I love you and every part of your past and present that makes up who you are. I spent so many nights in my quarters wishing that I had you beside me in bed or that you were sitting at the table reading a book that you’ve already read many times over. I simply want to be beside you at all times, even when you are cross with me, and not having you with me nearly killed me. Every tavern the crew went into was wrong because you were not serving us our drinks and telling stories. Every beach I went to was empty because I didn’t have you to swim with me or the children to collect shells with me. You have changed every facet of my life, and I sometimes I feel inadequate in that I am not as nearly wonderful to you as you are to me.”

“Killian,” she immediately whispers before tilting her head back to kiss at his jaw. Her mind is still trying to wrap around all of his words, of the emotions behind them all, but she does not need time to know that the last little bit is utterly and completely false. “You are my everything, and it’s my wish that you never feel inadequate in how much you mean to me, to us. You are the one who has changed every facet of my life, who takes me on great adventures and shows me how much of the world that there is to discover, but in truth, I need nothing more than for you to hold me as we fall asleep or for you to make me laugh at any and all times of the day. Right now, right here, you are giving me more than enough by simply being who you are.”

His head nods behind her, the scruff of his newly shaven beard pleasantly scratching against her skin, and his warmth radiates over every inch of her body, embracing her as he does.

“I love you, my beloved, and I promise to hold you just like this for as long as I can as I do not have any inclination as to why I should let go.”

Emma closes her eyes and takes hold of his hands once more, bringing his knuckles to her lips so that she can brush a kiss over each one.

She’s never letting go either.

#mistress of the sea #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #Captain Swan

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writtingfiction · 5 years

Note

Not sure if still open but.. May I request a Chrom x Robin where (a year before Lucina was born) the Shepherd finds an abandoned infant in the wagon after fighting off bandits. They go on a quest to find the infant's parents as well as taking turns caring for the infant.

The asks are always open! My response may just be a bit slow, I’ve got finals coming up next month. Cause we all love school, don’t we? Either way, this was fun to write. Didn’t know there could be so many ways to write the word baby. ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

pairing: Chrom x Robin

words: 1.8k

Hearing an infant’s cries, was more or less a surprise for the travelling Shepherds after defeating the bandits. Maribelle was the sweet soul that had found the poor baby, wrapped up warmly in blankets in a basket just big enough. The poor child was screaming their tiny little lungs out the best they could.

“We should try and find their parents.” Lissa said, pinky finger now in the tight grasp of the infant.

“That’s a good idea, Lissa.” Cordelia spoke up. Several of the Shepherds had agreed but everyone could the feel the shadow that was Frederick.

“As good idea as it is, we don’t know where they could have gone. For all we know, they could have done this on purpose.” Frederick spoke, tone firm. Maribelle glared at the knight, ready to counter the man.

“I don’t think so.” Robin spoke up, coming towards the crowded group. A basket of fruits in hand. “They’re traveling merchants with a baby on board, I highly doubt they would abandon their own child along with the goods.”

“I agree with Robin.” Chrom said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Smiling warmly towards her. “The merchants had intentions of coming back, we were able to see where they were able to hide some more valuable goods among the caravans.”

“I see, my apologies Milord.” Frederick bowed. Chrom only waved him off, smile straining just a bit.

“Don’t worry about it, Frederick, but you are right in the fact we don’t know where they went.” Chrom said. “We don’t know which direction they scurried off either…”

“Oh, Cordelia and I can take the pegasi and check if any towns are nearby!” Sumia called. Robin smiled.

“It’s a good start, you two can head out. We’ll figure something out will you two are out.” Robin said. The two Pegasus knights quickly leaving and heading out. While everyone down below started to get the hunt for the infant’s parents ready. Ideas were shared among the Shepherds, however there was still the pressing issue of getting to Regna Ferox. The little bundle of joy wouldn’t be able to survive long either without their mother, never mind the cold weather. After roughly an hour of tossing ideas around, the pegasi knights had returned.

Cordelia and Sumia approached them with good news. There was a town north-east, a few days of traveling but worth the detour. And so, things were settled as they made course for the town, babe in their arms.

However, Chrom couldn’t keep his eyes off the small baby in his sister’s arms. Cradling the gentle babe with Maribelle cooing softly. It had brought memories of when he was younger, even though Lissa wasn’t too much younger than him, she was still so small. The mess, the laughter, the quiet moments when they were together. He hummed to himself when the two young women were able to get the baby to laugh, bringing many smiles to various Shepherds.

“Adorable, aren’t they?” Robin spoke up. Chrom let the smile rise on his lips, shifting his gaze towards his wife. Her own eyes were on Lissa and Maribelle, who was now being joined by Sumia and Nowi.

“Of course.” Chrom said, just taking a little step towards her, weaving his hand with hers. “I believe Lissa would make a good mother.”

“Oh, don’t let her hear you.” Robin teased. The two share a laugh, before enjoying the rest of the walk towards the town.

__-

Seeing Cordelia handle the babe was as if she perfected the art of being a nursemaid. Gregor helped Lon’qu when dinner had come around, laughing louder when the babe had thrown up over his tunic. Panne took care of the child all throughout the night, keeping them warm and quiet all throughout the night. The next morning, Frederick kept the baby busy as he went about his daily routine without too much difficulty. Ricken, Donnel and Stahl all tried to keep the babe from crying after Gauis had tangled with the baby, (he was trying for the candy). Even though he got scolded, his comment was that taking from the child wasn’t as easy as people thought.

Kellam had taken the infant for the afternoon, much to everyone’s surprise. Although, they were grateful as they heard nothing from the infant till dinner. He was a natural lullaby for the infant. Miriel and Libra were the ones to take care of dinner, having a much easier time than Lon’qu and Gregor the night before. Sumia took the babe into her tent that night, although she didn’t manage to get enough rest that night.

The morning that followed Olivia took gentle care of the infant. Humming softly, swaying gently as they seemed to fall asleep, only to reawaken in time for lunch. Virion was the one to help this time, although someone would have to fetch him a new necktie once everything was over. Vaike was next, and he was good for better part of the afternoon, but Sully quickly swept in after Vaike had tried to get the babe to hold a sharp object. Sully was gentle, much to the surprise of others whom had seen her. A gentle smile instead of a hard scowl, a pleasing and calm atmosphere surrounded her and the infant. Dinner was a bit of a shock, Tharja had no problem feeding them. A quiet way of doing things but she was able to get the infant to eat dinner without a fuss. Robin was sure that Tharja was reluctant to hand the baby over to her when she said, she’d take them for the night.

Robin held them in her arms. A little yawn leaving their lips, big round tired eyes staring at her. Robin let out a giggle as the baby reached for a strand of her white hair.

“Don’t see that often, now do you?” She whispered gently, making her way towards her shared tent with Chrom.

She entered the tent with ease, seeing Chrom just finish changing into his night clothes. Indigo blues eyes warming upon the sight. Sweet words were exchanged between the lovers as they exchanged the babe who was falling asleep quickly. With Chrom now having the sweet child in his arms. It was a bit awkward at first, holding the child in the cradled position, but Chrom had quickly settled into the feeling. Thoughts of having his own child filling his own mind. It would be an amazing experience, teaching the babe to walk, learning their first word and reading those bed time stories as they fight to stay awake. He heard his wife giggle behind him.

“Come now, Love. You’ve got this motherly look on your face.” Robin said, carefully pulling him back towards the cot.

Robin helped Chrom into bed with the wandering child in is arms, and once he was settled, she rose to extinguish the candle that was burning. She cautiously settled in, opposite of Chrom, the child in between them. The two of them couldn’t help but stare at the added figure in their shared bed. Such a small body that had been brought into this world with love.

“Chrom?” Robin whispered. Eyes still watching the small infant. Chrom hummed, sleep was starting to welcome him. “What do you think of a family of our own? Our little child running through the castle hallway. Little feet against the floor as they run up to show us something.” Her hand came up, pulling the child ever so close. “A sweet babe of our own.”

“And here I thought asking for a child was rude for it still not even being a year.” Chrom mumbled, smile on his lips. “Although, I’m not opposed to it. A little child of our own, to care for, to love…” Robin hummed in agreement. Their hands locked together, sleep all catching up to them.

The rising sun had quickly rose, waking the Shepherds bit by bit. Robin kept the infant close to her the entire morning. Her own tasks being as simple as marking down what they still had left. When camp had been wrapped up and everyone was ready, they set out for the town again, this time having it in sight. They had arrived in town just before noon, making sure to ask around as soon as they hit the market.

Robin shifted the babe in her arms, turning away from another merchant who couldn’t help her. Chrom by her side, sighing heavily. He didn’t think it would be this hard, who wouldn’t be missing their child by now. There was the slight fear that perhaps they missed the parents on their way back towards their valuables, or perhaps the parents truly had plans to abandon the child. His heart hurt thinking about the latter. He hoped that it wouldn’t be the case for the babe.

“Excuse me! Oh, sorry. Ma’am, Sir, please wait!” A lady called out after them. Fighting her way through the crowd with a man trying his hardest to keep up with her. Robin and Chrom turn to face the couple as they stop in front of them. “Please! Are you the ones asking about…?” She had trailed off, panting heavily. Robin and Chrom exchange a look.

“Yes, were asking if a merchant couple had come here asking for help.” Chrom said, watching the couple in front of them.

“Yes! We were attacked by bandits and escaped with our lives while hiding our babe. It was a mistake to even leave her there in the first place! We should’ve taken her with us.” The lady had looked like she would collapse from how desperate she was.

“Please, Madam, Sir, believe me and my wife. Once we heard that a group in town had come into town asking about the parents of a child… We came as soon as we could.” The man came up, placing a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. Robin gave a small smile.

“Then it would be a crime to not return your child to you.” Robin said, handing the child over into the woman’s arms. The mother had tears coming down her cheeks when she had locked eyes with her daughter. The father couldn’t stop his own as they awed over their daughter whom had the brightest smile they saw since they had taken her in.

“Thank you…! We cannot thank you enough.” The father said. Chrom only shook his head.

“Seeing your child home and safe is enough. Your gratitude is enough as well.” Chrom said. The couple had nodded, thanking them once more before they left. Their child back in their care, safe from the dangers of the world.

The scene had warmed their hearts, happy and immensely grateful that they had the chance to reunite a family. It had only strengthened their resolve of starting a family of their own. A family teaching and guiding one another as they all grew together. It was an experience that they would be proud to have in their lives.

#chrom #chrom x robin #chrobin #chrom fire emblem #robin x chrom #fire emblem #fire emblem awakening #robin #robin fire emblem #request #fire emblem scenario #got the whole crew this time #but family fluff!#fluffy family fun #laziest pie

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convxction · 6 years

Text

Day five of C.hrobin week2018.

Prompt: Books

Mention to: @/stratesia Robin, P!Lucina, P!Marc, P!Morgan

Synopsis: “Alright, alright, children. How about we sleep--or better. I’m reading a story for daddy, would you want to listen?”

“U-uh...it sounds like you are reading me bedtime story…”

“It is, isn’t my lord~?”

“Daddy likes bedtime stories?” Lucina tilted her head and smiled at Chrom.

“U-uhm, yeah haha.” blushing a little bit and scratched his cheek.

DO NOT REBLOG.

“Nggh *yaaaawn*~” Chrom stretched, walking into the chamber room followed by Robin yawning as well. “I’m beat… We should get to bed and rest while we can,” he added.

“Yeah...Tomorrow is going to be a long one.”

“Every day is a long day…”

“Complaining, my lord?”

“Not at all. Anyway, come on to bed.”

“Just a moment, let me grab a book.”

“....Are you serious? You still have the energy to read?”

“I always have a spare energy for books.”

“....”

“Don’t give me the ‘i’m jealous of a book’ look now.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Besides, this is a special book~”

“....Special?”

“Tada~ It’s the one I was translating on my spare time.”

“The Marth’s legend!”

“Yes, hehe. So...Still want me to leave it?”

“Tactics that I can’t win….Fine, just for a bit.”

“Roger~”

The two crawled into the bed, sitting beside each other and Robin started reading. There are many books about Old-time and every one of them has new information, new wonders to be read. Robin opts to translate whatever book they can find since they know Chrom is fond of these books. Chrom kept peeking at the book from the side which was hard on Robin to read if he is going to look at the book too so they got up and sat in his lap which made the lord space out for a couple of seconds.

“This is better. You can see the book and I can read. Chrom?...Chrom??”

“P-Please, continue.”

They turned their head, “You okay?”

“Yes, good. Fine.”

“...Heh, silly. Should I go back?”

He wrapped his arms around them, “Too late. Now, where were we?”

“Heh, sure sure. Yes, hmm..ah, when Marth readied his army for the battle….” Robin continued to read and after a while, the door to their chamber was knocked before it opened which made Chrom a little bit annoyed. Before he could get up, they heard steps--small ones?? And whispers. Robin held Chrom from getting up giggling to themself which confused him but when he heard the whispers he sat back sighing to himself.

“Ssh...bibi and daddy are asleep now shh”

“Bibi!”

“....Bibi asleep?”

“Shhh we sneak to the bed. Make no sound marc, morgan!”

“I wanna sleep with bibi!!!”

“Me...too!”

“Guys….”

The trio sneaked in and peeked behind the folding door to see Chrom with his not amused face and Robin holding their laughter. Lucina’s face turned red feeling that she did something wrong but the twins ran quickly to their parents, morgan immediately climbed the bed while marc struggled a little but Chrom scooped him up to their side.

“Bibi! Sleep together!”

“Y-Yeah!”

“My, my, why are you guys awake till this hour?”

“Morgan did not see Bibi and Papa today …”

Marc nodded eagerly.

Chrom glanced back at Lucina who still hiding behind the folding door. “Honey...Lucina. Come here.”

Lucina did not move from her place, fearing that she upset her father.

“Lucina? Come, it’s alright.”

Few hiccups were heard. She was about to cry.

“*sigh* ….what to do now?”

“Dear, can you go fetch your sister?”

“Mhm! Morgan will!”

“Yeah!”

The twin jumped off the bed and went to where Lucina is. Morgan held her right hand, and Marc held her left hand and then proceed to drag her to their parents. Lucina stood near the bed edge, crystal blue eyes welling up with tears did not look up at her parents.

Chrom extended his hand to gently rub her cheek, wiping any tear “Princess, why are you crying?”

“B-because...I did...a bad thing…”

“Hm? What was that?”

“U-um...w-walking in without waiting a permission...Miss Maribelle said it is unpolite...a-and papa did not look happy.”

“I see. Is Lucina sorry?”

“*sniffles* Y-Yes. *sobs*”

“Awh, come here.” he helped her up, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck, covering him with her tears and snot. “Apology accepted, dear. Daddy is not mad at you, I can never be mad at you.”

“R-really?” hiccups.

“Yeah. Daddy is the one sorry for not spending time with you and Morgan and Marc.”

Shaking her head, “No! Daddy is busy! Daddy is fighting bad people, right?”

“Yes, daddy is working hard.” robin nodded taking Lucina off Chrom to seat her in their lap.

“So does Bibi,” Chrom added.

“Bibi and daddy fight bad people!” Morgan flailed her arms jumping on the bed.

Marc clung to Robin and smiled nodding to what Morgan said.

“Alright, alright, children. How about we sleep--or better. I’m reading a story for daddy, would you want to listen?”

“U-uh...it sounds like you are reading me bedtime story…”

“It is, isn’t my lord~?”

“Daddy likes bedtime stories?” Lucina tilted her head and smiled at Chrom.

“U-uhm, yeah haha.” blushing a little bit and scratched his cheek.

Robin gestured for the kids to sit down. Lucina sat fist to Robin’s side, having Morgan in her lap while Marc remained in Robin’s lap then Chrom wrapped his arms around them all.

Chrom chuckled lightly, “Are you sure you are able to read like this dear?”

“Heh, yeah, don’t worry. I got this. Where were we..again?”

Robin continued to read until the children surrendered to sleep.

“*yaawn* I think this is enough for the night.”

“Y-yea--*yaawn* h...Uh, what about the kids?”

“Uh, right. We should put them between us, dear. Can you grab Lucina and Morgan so I can scoot back to my place?”

“Mhm..sure…” Chrom carefully held Lucina and Morgan down before gently picking them up and laying them between him and Robin.

“Hehe...They are adorable, sleeping like that.”

“Yeah. They are little and pure. Angels…”

“Chrom…”

“Hm?”

“....Um...y-you see….”

“Robin?”

“D-do...you like….um...m-more….children?”

“......more...children? Us? You mean..us with more children?”

“Y-yes, what else?”

“O-oh, ohh..um...it’s...not bad...It does not sound bad. More children heh…” his left hand cupped their face, “But first let’s make sure we are ready for more, alright?”

Blushing lightly, “Mhm!...heh...imagine if we got another twin…”

“....twin...that would be amazing.”

“You really love children huh?”

“Well...a place with no children is empty...plus...they are cute, don’t you think?”

“Yes, hehe. Our children are indeed cute.”

“I feel happy when Owain comes over with Lissa. I know she is busy with her new life but seeing Owain playing with Lucina makes me feel that this world is safer. I don’t want anything bad to ever to happen to them.”

“You and me, Chrom. But now, close your eyes and rest.”

“Goodnight, Robin.”

“Goodnight, my love.”

“Good….nai...te...papa…” lucina rolled to the side, grabbing into chrom’s shirt and the twin holding each other’s hands sleeping soundly. Marc’s other hand holding tightly Robin’s hand and Morgan grabbing onto Lucina’s shirt.

“I could die right now …..”

“Please don’t hehe.”

“Robin...Thank you...Thank you for bringing them to this life.”

“You speak like you didn’t do that work, heheh”

“B-but...you…” he blushed, “you carried them, i just...spend it going around like a headless chicken. Gosh, it was a nerve-wracking time.”

“Yes, but you were brave to stand by me when I needed you.”

“You mean almost fainting when i heard your scream but sure…”

“Heh, silly, who held my hand when I gave birth to Lucina and the twin?”

“.....uh...I think it was me at the start but then Lissa kicked me out for fussing a lot…..”

“Naga’s mercy can you accept that you are a good father and a husband?”

“.....Okaaay.”

“You sounded like Morgan...No wonder where did she take that from.”

Chrom grinned and run his hand through Robin’s white hair, “We’re not going to sleep, are we?”

“I’m not sure. I’m wide awake but we can’t move nor talk or they will wake up.”

“We could….stare at each other.”

“.....T-that’s embarrassing…”

“Y-yeah….we’re married for now what...eight years….”

“Well, the kids are here.”

“The kids...They are learning the tactics from this age.”

“Ta-tactics?...This is not a war, Chrom.”

“It is. It is an ancient war. Man vs his children and the prize is your attention.”

“I think the lack of sleep is affecting you now.”

“Nonsense, these little devils know I want to be with you and show up every time.”

“Uhh...C-chrom? I thought our children were ‘angels’?”

“I knew it. Lissa must have rubbed on them….I was careless to leave them with her…”

“Chrom, I’m sorry but you need to sleep. Night, my king.” they reached their hand and gently flicked his forehead casting a spell on him to sleep. “There...Gods...he would have kept going on about this for hours...Heh, silly…”

“D..omes...tic vio...len..ce…” he mumbled while snoring.

#⚔drabble.⚔ (another possibility)#stratesia #⚔Let's make memories together; today and tomorrow.⚔ (❤stratesia)#⚔ooc.⚔ (faty speaks)#//weho this is early! because i know i will be busy today slfksdlkfjs #//short simple and just wholesome fam time #//yes we love our grandpa marth #//now i can roll away in peace knowing i did my work hahaha

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fireemblemfamiliesff · 6 years

Text

A Moment When

This story is somewhat long and will be under a cut. It is about Gerome and Noire.

Gerome pets Minerva as he waits for Noire and news. They were visiting Lady Lissa. It was by chance that Brady and Maribelle were there as well, though that did not surprise Gerome. Maribelle was often visiting Lissa, but he was somewhat surprised to see Brady. They had made small talk in the hall as Noire was taken back into the second room on the right. They were still talking when Maribelle came and ordered Brady to come back with her and Lissa. Apparently, he was needed to help. Everyone was needed but him. That made him feel anxious.

He did not like not being in there. Left with Minerva in the gloomy hall, even if it was well lit and very clean. Noire was sick and he was stuck outside. Being no help at all to anyone. He had called his mom and asked her if she knew what might be the cause of Noire’s sickness. She would suddenly grow very weak with fatigue, and that would not have struck him as odd if it was not for the fact that it would happen when she was doing day to day activities. She wasn’t doing any extra work, and he made sure that she was never overexerting herself. So it befuddled him as to why she was so tired.

The mood swings were strange as well. Much different from her usual tendencies. She didn’t even notice when these ones would happen. She would grow ravenous and eat more than usual and just as suddenly say that she wasn’t hungry as she continued to eat. Plus she was more violent whenever she was in a bad mood. Well, more so than what she had already been. What once would have been her yelling because of the cursed amulet her mother gave her was turning into a game of hunt and he was the target if he tried to calm her down or she was not satisfied after destroying whatever had caused the out-lash in the first place.

Afterward, she would quickly apologize and help him clean up whatever mess had been made. She would tell him how she had no idea why she reacted the way she did and that she just sorta lost control. Noire’s fears were that her mother’s amulet was growing stronger. He wrote a letter to Tharja asking if this was possible. Her answer had been a curt no. When he questioned Cherche over any possible illnesses that may have been caused by living in wyvern valley his mother assured him that there was none that would cause such symptoms. None that he knew of. However, he was no healer.

So he had packed a few days of food and weapons, for the bandits that still roamed the lands around the valley and beyond, then he and Noire left for Ylisse to speak with the cleric they trusted most. He did not like having to leave the valley. Whenever he and Minerva were gone, was a chance for any hunters to sneak around the edges of the valley and pick off any wyverns they would find. Some would surely try to steel themselves and brave the journey to the center of the valley. Thinking about it even now made his spine shiver with unease and his teeth clench in anger.

“Gerome.” Hearing his name being called Gerome lifts his head and leaves his thoughts of the valley. “How long has she been like this?”

He thinks back. “A few weeks or so.” Seeing that Lissa was smiling eases him if only just a little. “Is it, serious?” He asks a bit nervous about the answer.

Lissa smiles grow larger, just slightly, before it turns into a fake glare. She closes her eyes and wags one finger as her other hand rests on her side. “It most definitely is. I hope you know that it is not going away anytime soon and you better be ready because the next few months maybe even worse than they are now.”

“W-why? What is wrong with her? Is there nothing I can do to help her?” He had always watched over her. How could he have let her get so sick?

Lissa opens one eye and peeks at him through it before quickly shutting it again and with a huff, she crosses her arms. “Only make her as comfortable as you can?”

With that grim sentence, Gerome’s face fell. “Only make her comfortable?” He fell back, onto the bench behind him and rested his head on his hand. Minerva’s muzzle rubs against his knee and Gerome pets her with his free hand. He was doing it subconsciously, not able to truly focus on anything he was doing. What was wrong with his wife. Could he truly not do anything more? Minerva, as if reading his thoughts pushes herself closer to him so her large snouts were against his chest and his hair fell around her as well.

“Yep.”

“Please, tell me what is wrong with her. Is it some unknown disease?”

Lissa couldn’t stop herself anymore after that. She had fooled the poor boy long enough. She giggles.

This causes Gerome to gaze back up at the healer with a mixture of horror and anger at her cruelty. How could she laugh when his poor Noire was suffering? Minerva looks over at Lissa and snorts before nuzzling Gerome’s hand. He had stopped petting her.

“Gerome what she has is well known. In fact, I’ve gone through it myself.” His anger was replaced with confusion. “Congratulations Gerome. Noire is pregnant.” Lissa shouts with cheerful glee and abandonment. As if she had not just scared the boy by making him think his wife was dying.

You could see the fear leaving Gerome’s eyes as he stares at the princess. “She’s pregnant?” He asks again. Had he heard her right? He was going to be a father. A father.

“Yep!”

He quickly stands and walks over to Lissa grabbing her by the shoulders to hold her in place. He squeezes them, looking her square in the eyes. “There’s nothing else wrong with her? Are you sure? She is truly pregnant?” He had to make sure the devious cleric was not messing with him still.

Liss stares back at Gerome, pretending not to notice the increase of pressure on her shoulders. He wasn’t reacting as poorly as Gaius had, he left town for a few days before finally returning. He had gotten in trouble but in the end was forgiven after proving he would not flee again through rigorous trials. Those had cause Lissa to feel sorry for the thief though he should never have run away in the first place. Gerome wasn’t acting erratically as Henry who had literally cast nothing but wards and blessings of safety and good health Libra had taught him on the spot for the rest of the day. He wanted everyone else to feel as happy as he did at that moment. The biggest reaction she had ever witness was when Gregor found out he would be a father. The man took all his money and literally threw a festival. He had everyone contribute and play a part in the festivities. He would not let anyone be left out, and celebrations had lasted for a week before he would let everything be taken down.

Whereas Lissa expected none of those from the boy she did expect him to seem, at least a bit more happy about it. He was just so tensed and on edge. Could he not at least smile though?

“C-can I go in now?” He asks after taking a deep, shaky breath. He releases Lissa from his grip now.

“Yes. You can.” The only reason he had been left out in the hall was that Lissa was not sure if Noire wanted privacy or not when she found out. Lissa had already received mail from Gerome’s mother so she had already suspected Noire was carrying. S she decided to just leave the boy out in the hall with his wyvern and Brady, that was until Maribelle decided this was a perfect learning moment for her boy. She wanted him to know how to tell a lady was ever carrying if he should ever have to.

Gerome rushes past Lissa, roughly pushing her to the side a little, by accident. He opens the door, with a slam as it hits the wall, his hand still on the handle. “Noire?!”

She sat up on a bed, smiling her cute little awkward smile. She holds her hands on the blanket that covered her lower half while she was in the bed. “I’m fine Gerome. It turns out,”

He interrupts her with a kiss. Pulling her in as he held her face gently in his hands. He deepens and holds the kiss until he had to pull away for breath. It had only been for a few seconds for he could not hold it any longer. He now noticed that he had been holding his breath the whole time he sat in that hall. “I know.”

She smiles and places her hand on his as they still held her face. She squeezes it and pushes her face against his palm, more as the tears well up in her eyes. She had been so worried as to how he would react. So nervous about what he would say.

“Noire why are you crying?” He asks, confused as to why she was. He wipes the tears away from her face with his free hand, not even trying to recover the one she held onto with her fierce grip.

“I’m, I’m so relieved.” She says and hiccups. She looks back to him now, still crying.

Gerome didn’t want her to cry. “Hey, don’t cry. Not while you’re smiling. It covers up your beautiful smile. I need that to brighten my day.” He knew he didn’t sound like himself but she still laughed.

She hiccups again, and wipe her eyes with her own free hand. She lowers their interlocked hands away from her face but doesn’t let him go. “I c-can’t.” She says and laughs a lightly.

Gerome pulls her close and sets her head against her chest. “Shh. It’s alright.” Nothing felt more right then holding her there, at that moment.

They sit on the bed, silently for what felt like an eternity, but Gerome didn’t mind. His mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of being a father. Would it be a boy or a girl? What would they name their child? Would it get along with the wyverns of the valley as well? Would it prefer the bow or wyverns in the battlefield? Neither if he could help it, but they would have to teach their child to protect themselves. Anything could happen. He knew that better than most.

“Gerome, what are you thinking about?” Noire questions, her face looking adorable as she looks up to Gerome.

He squeezes the one hand of hers that he held. “Our future.” He answers, with a smile. Her face was one of pure bliss after he said that.

Nine months later

Gerome sits beside Noire as Lissa washes the child. “Congratulations.” The cleric says, smiling down at the bundle in her arms. “It’s a healthy baby boy.” Noire holds out her arms and accepts the bundle. She moves the blanket from covering his face, so she could get a better look at him. She coddles him as Gerome watches. “Though I am concern that he hasn’t cried yet. If he doesn’t soon, we’ll have to make him.”

He was surprised when she suddenly looks up as in a fright. “What are we going to call him? We never decided.” She was in a panic, and over a name. It was as if she hadn’t even heard Lissa.

Gerome had to stop himself from smiling. “Well,” he begins his tone completely serious, “We were thinking about Ignatius.”

“Hehe. Yeah, little Iggy. Still, I think I like Melvyn better.” Noire says and looks now at the soft bundle in her arms. He hadn’t yet opened his eyes. Noire begins humming the song Gerome’s mother use to sing to him. She had always loved that song.

“Farran was also on the considering list,” Gerome says and sits on the bed beside Noire.

Noire stops humming and looks over a Gerome. She carefully moves her arms to hand Gerome the delicate child and Gerome lean over to meet her halfway. With a slight drop in his arms, he was now holding his child. Looking him over he saw the small patch of dark hair on his head. It wasn’t much but he was surprised by the bit of hair, wasn’t babies born bald? No, he guessed not all were. “Agh.” He looks down at the small noise the quiet child had made. His face was contorted and he held it that way for a few moments before he began crying.

“Why is he crying?” Gerome asks Lissa.

“Maybe. It’s actually good that he’s crying.”

“How can it be a good thing that he’s crying?”

“It helps them with their breathing.”

Gerome was about to say something else when Noire calls for his attention. “Gerome look.” The way she says it was so soft and gentle, he was surprised he could hear her over the crying. He follows her fingers and sees she was pointing at the baby. He pauses in his crying and blinks. His eyes were light and carried a hint of grey and brown. “Asher.”

“Asher?”

Noire leans her head against Gerome’s shoulder still watching her their child. “Yeah. Isn’t it perfect?”

Gerome lifts asher up and looks at him from a different view as if checking to make sure it fits. “Yeah. Asher is perfect.” The baby curls up his fist and argues about being lifted. Gerome brings him closer again, to still his protest. “I can’t wait to get him home.”

Three months later

The crying could be well heard throughout the room. Gerome suspected it could be heard throughout the entire valley. He sits up as Noire gets out of the bed. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, wasn’t it his turn to get up? He watches quietly as Noire picks up the child and rocks it back and forth, slowly in her arms. Gerome felt Noire slip back into bed with Asher in her arms. She was humming the song Cherche had taught her again.

Asher calms down and Noire scoots herself back towards the wall by the back of the bed(they didn’t have a headboard on theirs), with one arm while holding Asher still in the other. Gerome listens as she begins singing the lyrics to the old nursery song.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet.

Don’t close your eyes.

Or else you’ll miss a day that’s gone by.

Oh, my sweet.

Don’t close your eyes. Or sleep will claim you.

Oh, my sweet, sweet, baby boy.

Can’t you hear the wyvern’s call outside?

If you close your eyes sleep will claim you and we’ll have to say our goodbyes.

So my sweet.

Don’t close your eyes.

Don’t close them yet.

I’m not ready for that goodbye.” Noire sings.

Gerome watches. She was so good with Asher. She already had him yawning again. Gerome sits up and takes him from her. “You need your rest. Let me finish the lullaby.”

“But Gerome,”

He stops her by setting his arm on her shoulders and resting his head on tops of her own. She buries her face into his neck, already feeling the hands of sleep digging into her. Gerome runs his fingers through her hair as he begins the next verse.

“So with a kiss on your head.

I sing you this melody.

Knowing it will take you from me.

In good faith that you will once again wake.

And send these tears dashing from my face.

On the day when we awake.

I know that you have lived all of our fates.

But until that day.

My sweet.

I beg you to stay, with me just a few more days.

So we may fight off that night

when we meet such a fate.”

Gerome closes his eyes as he finishes the last line. The slow breathing of Noire’s let him know she is deep in sleep again. He opens his eyes and slowly moves his shoulder from under her. He catches the nodding sniper before setting her down carefully back onto the bed. Now he just had to put the baby back to bed. He looks down to make sure Asher was comfortable in his arms and saw that the baby was wide awake. “Heh. Your mother did a better job of putting herself to sleep than you.”

Asher smiles and Gerome felt his chest swell with pride. “Well, I guess it’s just you and I.” As if to correct him Minerva growls outside. Asher giggles and Gerome looks out the window and smiles. “Well, us and Minerva.”

“Gerome,” Noire says her eyes still closed. “Lay down, Asher can lay between us tonight,” Noire says, practically ordering for Gerome to set the child down as she smacks the space beside her.

“Alright, but tomorrow he sleeps in his crib. Maribelle says it’s bad for babies to sleep with their parents too often.” Gerome says being the stern one. If it was in his family’s best interest then he would definitely follow the advice given by the loud noble.

Noire opens her eyes slightly and pouts. She wraps her arm around Asher and rests her head against the side of his. He smiles and his tiny hands grab at her arm. Noire laughs and Gerome smiles, slipping back into his place in the bed and pulling the cover back over himself and Asher. Gerome turns onto his side and wraps his left arm around Noire and Asher, pulling both a little closer to himself. The move made Asher wiggle a little but he soon stopped and was as fast asleep as his mother beside him.

Two years later

At first, it had been so great. He wasn’t sure when things had gone bad, but they had. Once again fate had played with him. Gave him a shred of happiness then stole it away. How was he suppose to win? Was it truly fate that conspired against him or some other entity out there?

“Dada?” Gerome looks away from the picture he held in his hands. It was one taken by Anna with an extra tome of hers. It took pictures, and he was now glad that Noire had talked him into taking it with her.

“Daddy?” The voice came again. Gerome pastes a smile on his face and sets the picture down, as he walks over to the child that stood alone in the hall.

Gerome bends down so that he was now on the boy’s level. “Yes, Ash? Is something wrong?”

“Mommy was here.” The young boy says, casting a fearful glance down the hall. It was the middle of the day, and Gerome was waiting for Minerva to return from the wherever in the valley she had gone to today. So that they may leave.

Gerome sighs and picks up the young toddler. “Yes, she is. Mommy will always be here. In every corner of this house.” Asher had been claiming to see Noire everywhere since her death. Gerome wasn’t sure if her ghost was there or if it was his son’s imaginings. He carries him into the kitchen and sets the boy on the table. “Are you hungry Asher?”

“Yeah.” The young boy looks around as if searching for something, as Gerome opens a shelf and pulls out a small bowl. He watches as Asher stands up and starts walking around on the old wooden table. He watches closely as he pulls an apple from the fruit that sat in a bag hanging up so no sneaking animals that Minerva hadn’t stopped, got to it. He begins peeling it before cutting into thin slices.

Asher stops at the other end of the table, staring at the chair. He bends down and holds onto the edge of the table before leaning over and setting his feet first in the chair. Gerome began to wonder what the boy was doing, and where he was going. Typically he would sit still until his food was ready.

Gerome’s gaze follows his young son as he climbs down from the chair and then goes over to the closest wall to his right. Asher was staring at something. There was nothing to look at besides the window. “Min.” He says and tries to grab the window. He was far too short.

“Min. Min! Min!” The flapping of wings and a call outside announced Minerva’s arrival. Asher was jumping up and down in a flurry of movement, trying desperately to reach the window. Minerva stops right outside the window and pushes it open with her snout.

Gerome approaches Minerva with confidence. He lifts Asher and sets him on his shoulders. Asher laughs and Gerome pets Minerva’s snout. “Ready for the trip?” He asks and Asher nods with such eagerness that the boy began to kick his father’s shoulders. “Okay, okay.” Gerome grabs his bowl of food from the table as he walks through the kitchen and to the front door. Minerva greeted them there.

Lifting Asher from his shoulders Gerome set him on the lower end of Minerva’s neck. The wyvern held very still as the child was placed upon her. She was always careful with Asher and was always watchful when the boy was near. She was as protective of him as she had ever been of Gerome, if not more. It made him wonder if she had acted the same when he was a baby.

Turning away from the two for a moment he acquires the saddle from its spot on the wall beside the door. Gerome saddles Minerva with great ease as he tightens the straps and checks the knots of the bags. Asher was still sitting patiently on Minerva’s lower neck as he ate.

Gerome was surprised at how well Minerva and Asher got along. He shouldn’t have been if he considered how she was when he was a child, but she really was patient with Asher. Asher was always climbing on and over Minerva, only ever getting a reprimand when he would hit her. After her snapping at him a couple times he learned not to hit her and instead would pull on her scales. Gerome had told him not to many times. Too many, but Minerva never seemed to mind. He was sure if it was anyone else attempting to she would eat them alive.

“Are you ready to go?” Gerome asks and finishes tying the saddle down, and adjusting the straps.

Asher nods and tries to stand up but trips. Gerome moves to catch him and caught his arm. He was hanging in the air now, Minerva having caught the sleeve of his other arm. They slowly set him down and Gerom throws away the spilled food before he put the bowl into a pocket on the side of the saddle.

“Come on.” He says and Asher runs over to him. He held his arms up and closes his hands, waiting to be lifted.

Gerome laughs and sets Asher on Minerva’s saddle before climbing on behind him. “Hang on.” He warns Asher and pats his head full of dark black hair, that resembles his grandmother’s.

“Yay!” He shouts and raises his hands up, light sparks of bright light coming from his hands.

“Careful.” Gerome scolds as Minerva begin to pick up speed. He held onto Minerva’s reigns with one hand, while he held onto Asher's waist with his other. This was his first ride, and Asher had been excited about it for days. Gerome was happy. Asher hadn’t smile like this in months after Noire was gone. He was glad that he was smiling again. Even if his powers were acting up a little while they were in the air.

“Do a spin! Do a spin!” Asher shouts over the rushing wind.

“Alright. Minerva.” She begins to flip and Asher clings to Gerome as he laughs.

“More. Can she do more?”

“Of course,” Gerome says with a light chuckle.

“Are you having fun?” Gerome asks after Minerva finishes somersaulting through the air.

"Yeah." Asher laughs and stands up, raising his hands into the air. "I love the sky."

Gerome smiles a fatherly smile. The first time he took Noire up she had been very scared and nervous but was soon thrilled with the trip. He was told that Asher had his facial structure, even though he had Cherche's eyes and Tharja's hair. He also had begun showing signs of magical capabilities. Which made Gerome nervous.

Looking at him now, Asher reminded Gerome of Noire more than anyone. His hair was soft and curled around his face like Noire's did and his skin as fair. He had her nervous enthusiasm and it made Gerome smile and grow concerned for his future.

"-er!" Asher sits down and looks up at his father a huge grin on his face. "Can we?"

"Huh?" Gerome scolded himself for not listening to his son.

"Can we go higher, papa?" Asher asks again his excitement filled his voice.

"Maybe next time. We're almost there." Gerome answers and Asher's face falls. "On the way back," Gerome promises.

"Really?" His small fist was balled up in anticipation now.

"Yes."

"Yay."

Gerome slides off of Minerva with ease and lifts Asher up and sets him on his shoulders. Gerome walks through the empty clearing of grass with solid steps. The ground was muddy from recent rains but it did not bother him much. He did not want Asher outfit to be ruined by the mud.

"Too long," Asher says as his father ducks under some trees so their low branches did not hit Asher.

Gerome sighs. Sometimes his son could be so impatient. He keeps walking without answering the boy until his feet reach a stump.

"We're here." He says more to the stump than to Asher. He gently lifts him up from his shoulders and set him besides the stump. Wiping his hands carefully over the top of the preserved stump.

The stump's roots were large enough to form the perfect seat for Asher. He was too distracted by the dying roots to care though. They would fall apart in his hand. He looks over at the other side of the stump and saw the roots were bright and didn't fall apart under his touch.

"It's dying," Asher says, as he climbs onto the top of the stump and hits it.

Gerome pats Minerva's snout and she drops a bag at his feet. "Thanks, Minervakyns." He opens the bag and pulls out an amulet and a few lilies.

Asher cuddles his knees as he watches his father set the flowers around the edge of the healthy half of the stump.

"It is already dead. Your grandmother had cast a spell to slow the aging of it. On the outside at least."

Gerome frowns as he finishes setting the flowers around it. He closes his eyes and mutters a quick prayer. Asher watches him with curiosity.

After the prayer, he smiles a small, remorseful smile. Then lifts Asher from the stump and sets him down in his lap.

"Dada?"

"Your mother wanted to come with when I took you for your first real flight on Minerva. So I decided we should visit her during it."

"Mmhmm," Asher says agreeing, but he wasn't sure what he was agreeing with. The small tree was pretty, even if the other side looked scary. What was special about it? He really wanted to know.

Asher wiggles out of his father's arms and touches the stump again. The plants around it, start growing taller than the stump. They begin to wrap around the half-dead stump and climb it. Asher wiggles his fingers before clapping his hands and slapping the stump again. almost as if he wanted to see what else he could do.

Gerome watches in awe as his son worked with his magic. When the plants stop moving the stump was completely engrossed in beautiful blue lilies. “Lookie daddy.”

“I see,” Gerome says smiling a little. He almost swore that he heard Noire singing again. He reaches up to his face and felt the phantom feeling of his mask resting there. Seeing magic reminded him of his time in the war. Never had he seen it used in such a simple, pure way before. Gerome is summoned from his thoughts by Minerva who butted her head against his back.

“I’m okay with Minerva. Asher,”

“Huh?”

“Do you want to go visit Grandma Tharja?”

“Reewy?”

Gerome nods slightly.

Asher returns the nod with vigorous speed.

“Come on then. We’ll finish this ride then pack once we get home.”

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leigh-kelly · 7 years

Text

#brittana #hospital!au

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aurora-boring-alis · 7 years

Text

For Safety and Support

lmao tryin smth different here… posting a fic i worked on for a bit gnngnhn…. based off these doodles i did a while back

[Henry & Olivia bc pink haired inigo 👀 Abt 3k. Fluff]

The battlefield was not a place of happiness. For many, it was a place of solitude, of glory and loss. Of remembrance and of power. A place that remained long after the battle. Once, it had been trampled over, mud-ridden, and peppered with the carcasses of the fallen. And one day, in the future, the grasses would grow tall and the trees would stretch to the heavens, barely touching the Gods’ domains. This was a place of hope and loss, where many would lose their lives and those who remained would be forced to bear the scars of war.

To cope with this aching sadness, those who remained would bury themselves into a hobby, attempting to drown out the memories that walked with them through the remainder of their lives. The Shepherds all found their cathartic endeavours. Sumia adored reading, taking her adventures in literature as far as to step into the role of characters, giving her strength she so desperately needed. Others like Libra, devoted himself to Naga in hopes for absolution and guidance. And Cordelia buried herself in her training and chores in both attempts to win Chrom’s affections and to grow stronger to protect her fellow comrades.

However, in any group, there was the odd one out. And the Ylissean Shepherds, this was Olivia.

It was not because she was Feroxi by refuge, for Lon'qu was the same. Nor for her lack of painful reclusiveness; Tharja even managed to forge bonds stronger than steel. And it was not because she was a clumsier woman… Sumia made better efforts than her. Nay, Olivia was the odd one out for her class. She was a dancer, and not a good one in her own eyes. Her sole purpose was to dance, empowering the other troops to strike again and again and again. When Chrom or Robin would call upon her in battle, she would hope and pray she performed just right, lest she roll on her ankle the wrong way or time her leap wrongly. And, even with the finest of swords, she had trouble even striking the enemy; in contrast, she was a single blow away from limping off the battle field and to the medical tent.

In her own eyes, she was clumsy and not well-versed enough with her moves. Khan Basilio had sent her to the front lines after the Exalt’s death; never before had she performed in front of so many people, and on a battle field nonetheless! A place where time was precious and skill was a necessity.

So with her uselessness on the battlefield, Olivia would train harder and harder, barely staying above water. When not in battle, she would find a private alcove away from the current encampment and practice her moves. And while the practice helped the upkeep of her moves and her talent, she did not find herself improving, instead staying stagnant in her performances. Frustrating in the least, the Shepherds still applauded her efforts and her talent, invigorated to strike the enemy again. But with every march came another battle, and with another battle came the tactician and lord calling her to perform. With clouds of Risen and platoons of Plegians around every corner, she was called almost every turn to dance. At a second’s notice, she would be yelled at to perform and she would scramble to start whilst Frederick or Panne shielded her from attacks. She had to be quicker and quicker and quicker each time, lest she calculate her timing wrong and end up calling Lissa or Maribelle to heal from across the field.

I dance like a five year old, she thought to herself as she lifted her hands above her head, her rings gently clinking together. She bent her right leg at the knee and twirled in place, dust swirling up as she moved. She attempted a leap, misjudging the distance and tripping. She stumbled, bracing herself for impact as she fell against an overgrown bush. She frowned, sighing as she checked for bumps and bruises. “I picked wrong again…” She murmured to herself. She shut her eyes, shaking her head. She went over her failings thus far: she’d been late for morning mess and missed out on hot food, then picked a trail leading to a grove with uneven grounds, and even her class. She hadn’t asked to be a dancer. It was her mother who had forced this class upon her: she had noticed how finely Olivia swayed to the music her father played, and thus started on her lessons. Thinking her daughter to be the finest dancer for all the royals, she forgot that the girl was a shrinking violet. Perhaps I should just give up? Take up something more useful, like equine care or tome-wielding? She thought to herself.

She sighed, standing up and dusting the dirt from her pantaloons. Olivia frowned, clutching the rings of her shawl together angrily. If only she wasn’t so scared, she could perform better. If only she wasn’t so clumsy, she could aid her comrades better. If only I’m not the way I am, I would be better. She thought to herself. Her grasp around the rings loosened and she stuck her hands back through them, resting against her wrists. Enough practice for the day. I should rest, that’s it. I need rest. I’ll go back to my tent, rest for a bit and maybe bathe and then I’ll come back. Maybe then I’ll finally land at least one move.

The dancer began towards the thick bushes that obscured her from the outside. She crouched down and pushed her way past, grunting as stray twigs whacked against her lithe shoulders, striking her soft skin. The loud, recurring call of an avian caught her attention as she stopped and looked skyward. A huge raven sat in the trees above her, startling the dancer. She jumped, suppressing a shriek and clutched her shawl tight to her. The raven cawed at her again, as if to say ’take a picture, it’ll last longer’. Still frightened, she pushed ahead, free from the bushes and now desperately wishing to be cocooned in blankets, a-slumber in her tent.

“Cassius! What are you doin’, silly?”

The dancer’s head snapped up, jumping once more. She tucked behind a tree, jsut barely hidden from view. Is that… Henry? She thought, straining herself to identify the speaker. Henry was a walking catastrophe on the fields. A smile always on his face, his presence able to make even the most steadfast uneasy, and his laugh… Gods, that laugh was a death knell to Risen and Plegians alike.

What could he be doing out here? The others usually stay closer to the encampment… She thought worriedly, recalling several battles where Robin had ordered for Henry to remain by her side. The tactician had smiled and said “for safety and support” before pairing away other Shepherds. Hell, his entry to the first battle terrified her! Those ravens swooping in from nowhere and encircling him like some sort of sorcerer of the darkness… The sheer memory of it sent shivers rapidly down her spine.

She tilted her head slightly to peek out of her hiding place. Her eyes falling upon the dark mage. His hand was outstretched towards the sky, the other clutching a tome close to his chest. A raven circled overhead before landing on his hand. It’s claws implanted firmly into his hand as he chuckled and brought the raven closer to him. The bird butted his head against the mage’s cheek, eliciting more giggles from him.

Olivia leaned closer, clutching onto the tree, her gaze focused on him. He had turned away from her view, affectionately rubbing the bird’s cheek. “How was your day buddy? Destroy any other bad crows?” He laughed, examining his coat. “I’m sure you did, you rascal! Yep! There’s some blood!”

The dancer winced at his words before cowering back against the tree. She clutched her shawl closer to herself, brow furrowing once again. She hadn’t expected him to be so… gentle around avians. After all, dark mages were known for their wickedness and ability to master hexes and the dark arts. Yet, here was Henry - an extremely powerful dark mage - talking affectionately to an animal.

This war is making everyone delusional… She thought, shaking her head. Ah well, he’s distracted. Now’s my chance to slip away.

She took a second glance out from her hiding spot to check if he had moved at all. Henry had stayed still, continuing to pay attention to the bird. The dancer took a step out from her haven. Her footsteps, ginger and silent, she strode out and hurried towards the trail leading back to the encampment. The raven let out a loud caw, scaring Olivia. She jumped once more, yelped and tripped over gravel, falling on her face. “Hey, someone there?” Henry called. “I won’t hurt ya!”

Olivia scrambled to stand, her outfit covered in dirt once more. The raven cawed loudly again, scaring her for the umpteenth time. She dropped her shawl, hurriedly trying to pick it up. “Olivia, is that you?”

The dancer looked up wide eyed to the mage, blushing profusely. She wheeled back into the tree. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya!” He said, lifting up her hand to send the raven flying away.

“O-Okay…” she murmured as he reached down to pick up her shawl. He dusted it off, handing it back to her.

“What are you doing out here? You weren’t spying on me where ya?” He jested.

Olivia turned red, taking the shawl from him and looping the rings around her wrists. “N-No, of course not!” She stuttered, shaking her head quickly. “I was just practicing some steps.”

“In the middle of the forest?”

“I have… h-horrible stage fright…”

“Oh. Right. Forgot, sorry.” Henry said before he beamed. “I could whip up a quick hex for you! It’d take care of it nice and good! No more fright!”

Olivia shook her head quickly. “Th-Thank you, but hexes t-terrify me…” she murmured.

“They shouldn’t, though. They’re really nothing… Now curses, curses can scare you. Talk about being six feet under in six seconds or less!” He laughed. The flap of wings grew louder. “Did ya hear me talking to my friend?”

She nodded. “I didn’t think you’d be an animal lover,” she said. “I thought the dog we cared for was going to be a guinea pig for a wicked experiment…”

“Are you kidding? I love animals!” He exclaimed. “And besides, animals don’t deserve such treatment.”

She shifted, bringing her hands to her chest. “So is that bird? Is it your friend?” She asked.

“Of course! I’ve known him for ages.”

“Really?” She asked. The mage nodded, stepping towards the open path. “He’s my family! Him and a lot of others. They tend to keep away from the encampment because of the battles, so I don’t see them as often… It wouldn’t be great if a stray arrow hit them, now would it?”

Olivia shook her head. Her brow furrowed once more. “Uh… How is a bird your family?” She asked, cautiously.

“When I was in wizard school, my parents didn’t want much to do with me. They sent me off to learn boundaries and independence.” He shrugged.

“How horrible!” Olivia cried, clutching the rings of her shawl in her hands. She took a step closer to the mage. “That’s heartbreaking that your parents would do that to you.”

“What? No, no, it’s fine. I had a lot of fun there. To be honest, I had a better time there than with my family! And I learned these bad boys!” He waved a weighty tome and laughed. “But when I was there, there were a buncha ravens that the professors used for classroom experiments, and one night I snuck into the shelters and let them all out. No birdies should have to stay cooped up like that!”

“Wow…”

“Then they just kept hanging around me from then on. I can’t seem to shake ‘em!” He said before turning to her. “Say, you wouldn’t want to meet him?”

“I’m sorry?” Olivia said, brow furrowed as Henry grinned harder. The raven above cawed out loudly as Henry yelled for it to come down. She yelped as he landed and rested on Henry’s hand, watching it’s talons dig into his skin.

“Doesn’t that h-hurt?” She asked as Henry shook his head. “Nah, he’s really gentle.” He said. He moved his hand closer to Olivia, the bird seeming to glower at her. “Here! Give him a pat!”

She looked from the raven to Henry. “Y-You’re certain he won’t bite me?” She asked, nervously.

“Ha! He wouldn’t peck ya even if you were fresh carrion!” The mage exclaimed. He held out his free hand to her. The dancer stared at it for a moment before extending her own. Henry gently rested his over hers and guided it towards the raven’s head.

“Olivia, this is Cassius. Cassius, this is my friend Olivia.” He introduced, pulling his hand away. The dancer let her hands barely graze the bird’s silky feathers before yanking her hands back, eyes wide. The bird cawed again as Henry laughed. “He likes you!”

“Really?” Olivia asked, slightly bewildered.

Henry nodded. “Go on, pat him!” He said. Olivia gently tapped her fingers against the bird’s head. The bird nuzzled into her touch, his smooth beak grazing her skin. “See! You have another admirer!”

The dancer blushed as Cassius nuzzled into her touch once more. “I didn’t know ravens could be so affectionate…”

“Cassius loves people. He likes to be the star, you know? The others are just as kind but Cassius is more outgoing.” He said, leaning towards the dancer. “Between you and me, he’s a little bit of an attention harlot.”

Olivia held back a giggle. “I see.” She said, watching as Henry raised his arm to the sky, sending Cassius flying.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be on my way so you can go back to practicing.” Henry said, waving.

Her brow furrowed. “Henry you’re bleeding!”

“Hm? Oh cool, I am!” He chimed, admiring he ruby speckles on his hand. “Cassius was really needy today.”

“That needs to be patched up right now!” She said, ripping a bit of cloth from her shawl.

“Oh hamburgers, its nothing. Besides, its pretty cool lookin’.”

“What would happen if it got infected? Maybe your spells wouldn’t cast right? Then we’d all be in trouble!” She said, taking his hand. “Mages are incredibly important to the Shepherds! Just like knights and cavaliers and swordsmen and healers–”

“And our dancer!”

Olivia glanced up. “I… I’m not that important. All I do is dance. Or attempt to, and fail…” She said.

“Hey now, you’re the best! If you weren’t, would Basilio sent you to join the Ylisseans?” Henry said. She stopped wrapping for a moment, stuck in thought before eventually nodding.

“I suppose I’m not terrible…” she said, diffidently. She quickly diverted away from his praise. “Still, I am not the best dancer.”

“True, but you can be! You just have to keep practicing.” He encouraged.

The dancer took a pin from her hair and stuck it into the bandages. She blushed. “This… is true,”

“Regardless, I think you’re an amazing dancer. Just having you by my side in battle makes me feel like I can take down the baddest brigands!”

Olivia laughed a little as Cassius circled over head. He swooped down, resting against Henry’s bandaged hand. “Back again compadre? Ah, got something there for me? Now you didn’t steal this again did you?” He said, wagging his finger at the bird. Inside his beak was a yellow ribbon. Henry held out his free hand and smiled at Olivia. “Cassius says it’s for you!”

“For me?” She asked, blushing again.

Henry nodded, handing her the ribbon. “He says it’ll make your hair pop!”

Olivia laughed a little. “Well, thank you Cassius.” She said, patting the raven’s head. She tied the ribbon in a bow over her ponytail. She smiled, standing a little taller. She summoned all her courage, struggling to hold his gaze. “As thanks… I want to show you my new steps!”

“Really? I thought you were overcome with stage fright,”

“It’s the least I could do for both your kindnesses.” She said.

“Well if I can’t stop you– oh wait! I’ll make up a tune!” Henry said, sitting down. He lowered Cassius to the ground and began hitting his hands against the forest floor, creating a beat. Olivia shut her eyes, her hands lowering to ground, fingers stretching out elegantly. The shawl trailed behind her, her wrists angled to keep the rings on her person. The gentle beating of Henry’s hands against the floor served as perfect rhythm. She began padding again the forest floor, her feet bouncing gracefully as she swayed gently from left to right, her hands moving the opposite way.

Suddenly, Frederick’s voice rang out, stopping Henry’s beat. Olivia’s eyes cracked open as she lost her lax demeanour. She clutched her shawl to herself. “Shepherds! To arms!” The two glanced to each other.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to see your dance in battle!” Henry said, smiling.

Olivia smiled nervously. “I suppose so,” she chimed. She held her out her hand to Henry, helping him up. The two began back towards the encampment, Cassius in tow.

#fire emblem: awakening #chewie writes #im v gay for inigo btw what a fuckin babe #also hi i love olivia n henry #lmao sorry to the ppl on moblie #fe:a olivia #fe:a henry #fe:a

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tigereyes45 · 8 years

Text

Picture Perfect

Ricken smile begins to strain. He continues to suffer as he waits for the last few paint strokes to strike and flow over the paper. "H-how much longer do we have to stand here?" Brady says hesitating to talk at first. "Hush Brady." "But ma," "Hush and I told you, you will call me mother. Not ma." "Please stop moving?" The painter pleads as he pauses to stir one of the colors that had started to dry. Ricken couldn't help but wonder how they weren't all dry by now. "Mommy please let me sit." The younger Brady asks. "You should have sat on my lap when we started out then." Maribelle says, still bitter that her youngest son had fled from her arms when the painter was setting up. Ricken laughs. He couldn't help it. He was quickly reprimanded by his dear wife and the painter. "Sorry." He apologizes whispering, as it seemed appropriate in the otherwise silent house. When Maribelle had suggested this weeks ago, he thought it had sounded great. He suggested sending a letter to Anna and requesting to buy and use one of her strange tomes. One of which she had used when they had gone to the beach outerworld. Maribelle had shot that idea down immediately. She wanted a more traditional portrait. One she could have set next to the pictures of hers and his relatives. "But wouldn't it be quicker and simpler to try one of these new tomes? Maybe Anna will show us." Ricken had said hoping to change her mind, remembering his own experience when standing to be painted with his parents. "No. Tradition is how we will have our first portrait done. Now I will write a letter to Brady and tell him to make plans to pause in his performances to come and visit us." Maribelle had said and left Ricken's study without another word. "Pa, tell ma she's lost it if she thinks I'm standing here another hour." The elder Brady says before yelping and bending over. "Don't move or I have to restart." Ricken looks at his eldest with pity. He knew how much it hurt to be at the receiving end on Maribelle's umbrella. Brady's eyes were close to watering over. "Don't worry I am sure it will be done soon." Brady nods, biting his lip. He stands back up, sniffling as he did so. That was when Ricken saw the painter watching them impatiently. Brady noticed as well and glares at him. "What're ya lookin' at?" That made the painter jump. The sudden hostility had surprised him. "Brady please," Ricken begins but was interrupted by his younger son. "Yeah! What are ya looking at fool?" The younger one adds the insult to the end of it as if it made him sound tougher. Maribelle's gaze was the only thing needed to set the boys straight. As soon as they saw it they stopped and stood still again with a muttering, "Sorry ma'am." Ricken holds his smile through it all. Though it began to falter as he watches his sons' outbursts and their mother's furious gaze. He felt bad for his sons but he knew better then to move himself. This was important to Maribelle and he wanted to make her happy. She had been so upset these past few months even if she did pretend to just be busy. He couldn't help but wonder if it was because the Brady from the future was always gone. He wasn't just assuming that though. Miriel had taught him better than to just assume and act on it. No he had evidence. "There all done. I hope it is too your liking Mrs. Maribelle." Ricken and the boys let out a collective sigh of relief. "So do I or you shall have a serious lack of work from now on." Maribelle says as she stands, lifting her umbrella up onto her shoulder. Ricken laughs as the taller Brady sticks his finger down his throat in a mocking gesture. The younger Brady laughs, gaining his mother's view. He stops and covers his mouth with his hands. Maribelle turns her attention back to the painting her pursed lips slowly turn upward into a small smile. It left her as she faces the painter. "This is satisfactory. Thank you. You will receive your payment momentarily." She says and looks back at the painting, fondly. Ricken walks over and leads the painter away. He pulls out a coin purse and hands the man his requested payment. “Thank you for coming today.” The painter gives a slight bow before leaving. Ricken turns around and walks over to Maribelle. “Shall we go hang it with the others Maribelle?” He asks and sets his hand on her shoulder. “No. I think not. I shall go set it in your study. We will hang with the others later." She says and gently lifts the picture. Ricken watches her with a careful eye as she walks by. "What's wrong with ma?" His eldest son asks once Maribelle was out of the room. "I think she feels lonely." Ricken says and straightens his hat. He had, at some point, grown in to it over the years. "Why? Aint we all 'ere?" He asks looking down at the other him then back to his father. "Yes, well you're often gone and Brady just turned five. I think she feels as if it won't be long before he too is old enough to leave then it will just be us in this place." Ricken says voicing his thoughts out loud for the first time. "Eh? That's nonsense. She's got plenty of years before the other me leaves." Brady says and leans on his staff. "True, but she doesn't see it as such. Plus, since the end of the war you haven't come to visit very much Brady." "Ah, well. Um." Brady rubs the back of his neck. "You know you're always welcomed Brady." Ricken says with a warm smile before taking a book away from the smaller Brady. There was a moment of hesitant silence before Brady replies. "I know. Isn't it," he pauses and watches ricken pick the other Brady up and set him on his shoulders. "a bit strange?" Ricken laughs. "Brady there is nothing normal about children coming from the future to save their parents." "Still," "You're always welcomed here and I think it would cheer your mother up if you did stop by more often." Ricken spins around and little Brady giggles joyfully. "Haha. I think that's enough Brady. Here, go to your brother I have to help mommy set up the picture.” Brady says and hands the small boy to his older self. The older one takes him but holds him awkwardly on his side. Ricken leaves them be. Brady had been avoiding spending too much time with his younger self and Ricken knew it. That was why he always found at least one reason to have him interact with each other when BRady from the future visited. Ricken walks through the long halls of the small mansion. It was in no way small when one looks at it or walks through it but when compared to the other royal houses it was certainly considered so. Once he arrives at his study he knocks before openly the door. There was the sound of quick shuffling before he heard the small call, “Come in.” From his wife. He opens the door and notices the picture sat against the small lantern on his desk. He was glad it was not aflamed. He smiles at Maribelle’s back and hums as he starts walking over. She looks up pulling a napkin away from her eye. She saw it was Ricken and sat up a little straighter, turning her head back towards the picture. “They’re growing up so fast.” Ricken nods even though she couldn’t see it and his humming becomes a higher pitch before slowly returning back to the key tunes. He pulls his chair from behind the desk and sits it next to Maribelle. He was taller than her now and her hair was longer and never up as much as it use to be. She let her curls fall onto her shoulders without restraining them into ties anymore and Ricken thought it was a beautiful look for her. “They are getting big. Well one’s already quite taller than us. Heh.” Ricken jokes and looks over at the picture before looking at Maribelle form the corner of his eyes. Maribelle didn’t respond or turn away from it. Ricken sighs and sets his arm around her shoulders. “I talked to Brady. I think he will start visiting more often then he has been.” “That’s good.” Ricken nods again. “I think Lissa is coming to visit with Owain tomorrow.” He mentions hoping to cheer her up. “Really? That is good news. I have been wondering how they have been doing as of late.” “Maribelle what’s wrong? I know something is. I have been with you long enough to tell when something is on your mind. Is it the boys?” “Yes. Brady already doesn’t need us anymore and soon the other won’t either. We’ll be alone in this house and they won’t visit anymore.” “Maribelle he may be growing up and the older Brady may not visit us often but they will always need us and we will be able to be there for them when it happens. We’ll always catch them when they fall and hope that the advice we give them will be enough after we’re gone.” Ricken says pulling her closer. He couldn’t help but become saddened by the thought but he knew one day one of them would leave the other, and he could never imagine her not being there. He had loved her for years and would continue to for the rest of his life and longer if possible. Maribelle looks up at him and he saw the tears that lay in her eyes. He wipes them away with his thumb. "Come on Maribelle. Don't cry. I'm really trying to cheer you up here." She laughs but chokes on it a little. "I know. I know Ricken." She lifts the napkin to her eyes again and dabs at them with it. "Ugh. Look at me. I am a lady I should not be crying. It is unbefitting." She says with only half of her normal conviction in her words. Ricken pulls the napkin carefully out of her hands and stands from his chair. Maribelle gives him a look of confusion but he offers no explanation as he kneels in front of her and raises the napkin to her eyes himself. "Everyone cries Maribelle. Even lords and ladies. I have seen Chrom and Lissa cry before. It is nothing to be ashamed of." "That is different. That was during the war. I am crying over the passing of time Ricken, my dear. It is not charming." Ricken shakes his head and sets the napkin aside. "Maribelle, you are the most charming lady I have ever met or seen, and I am the luckiest man in the world to have you as my wife and my dearest." Maribelle's face grows softer at his words until a small smile graced her lips. She looks from the Ricken kneeling before her to the one standing in the picture. "You have grown into a fine man and lord Ricken. You are responsible, sensible, understanding," "Wow that's two ibles in one sentence." Maribelle sighs at that but continues, "and you are as wonderful as you were the day we married. I love you my darling." Ricken blushes at that but smiles still. He stands up and offers her his hand. "I think we have a painting to hang." "Yes we do." Maribelle takes his hand and once she was standing she took the painting into her hands. "To the hall then." Ricken says and opens the door. Maribelle walks by and leads the way to the other portraits. It was a hallway lined with portraits of Ricken's ancestors. When they married their estates became shared but Maribelle thought it was only right that they lived and raised their family in his. That decision only felt more certain as she places the portrait at the end of the hall on the right side. It filled the last empty spot to even out the walls. One day both of the Brady's families will lie on either side if the hall right across from each other when the time came. It had been discussed. When their time came their sons will share their estates and could either choose to split them between them or share them together, but both portraits would be hanged here. Maribelle walks over and places her arm around Ricken's. He lifts it and they walk with their arms looped through each other. Maribelle lays her head against his arm as they walked. Ricken truly couldn't imagine his life without her. This all simply felt too right to be wrong. "Ricken." "Yes?" "I want another child." "What?!" I wrote this chapter for Ricken's birthday. I meant to finish it on that day but I had to go to a party after starting it and afterwards procrastination and uncertainty stalled me from finishing it. Oh well. It's done now at least. I hope you have enjoyed this Ricken and Maribelle family piece.

#maribelle #Ricken #Ricken and Maribelle #ricken (fire emblem)#maribelle fire emblem #fanfic #fanfiction #fire emblem #fire emblem awakening #Ricken x Maribelle #Maribell and Ricken #Maribelle x Ricken

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thej13579 · 4 years

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Robins Involuntary Makeover - Ending D

Robin decides to confess to Lissa and Maribelle.

Here it is. After over a year and a half since I started, I finally finished Robin's Involuntary Makeover. It's definitely a story that I worked on the most. Suffered from a bit of writer's block on certain parts, which is why it's taken me this long to get everything done. But I am still proud of this story and I hope to keep on improving from here.

If you have any constructive criticism and feedback, feel free to reply and/or reblog.

“Come to my room at seven PM. I have something important that I want to tell you both.”

That was the only thing written down in the note Robin handed to Lissa and Maribelle. Neither of them knew what their friend wanted to tell them, but they were concerned.

Ever since Robin’s training a couple of weeks ago. Lissa and Maribelle noticed that he was acting rather odd.

The first sign was his skin, mainly how Maribelle noticed that Robin has been applying the same brand of skin cream that she uses. His skin now looks so soft and clean. Soft enough that wrongfully handling a paper could give him a cut. Maribelle didn’t consider it a big deal as she thought it was that her tactician friend was taking care of his appearance.

The bigger sign was his attire. As the weeks flew by, Robin wore less tunics and moved towards clothes that were more effeminate. Soft pants, frilly blouses. He wasn’t dressing like a woman, but neither Maribelle or Lissa can recall many men actually dressing like that amongst the Shepherds. Even his hair wasn’t untouched. It was now reaching his shoulders and Maribelle could tell that it was soft, light and flowy. She suspected Robin must have used the same potion that grew his hair originally.

When asked on the subject, Robin simply replied that he wanted a change of pace from his usual attire. Nothing to make a big deal of, he said. He just wants to look more fancy.

Then there was the note. Both Lissa and Maribelle suspected there was something up with Robin lately and they had a feeling that the reason why he wanted them to come to his room had something to do with it. Besides, it would’ve been rude to turn down a possible invitation.

As the two ladies walked in, their eyes set on a fairly shocking sight.

Rather than his usual clothes or even the fancier and more feminine clothing that he wore for the past several weeks, Robin was in the slender white gown that he wore during field training. He was wearing heels, pearl earrings, gloves and makeup. He was even wearing the corset that made his figure look far more feminine.

“Hello ladies,” Robin dipped into a little curtsey. His voice wasn’t artificially raised by the potion, but the pitch was slightly higher than usual. Maribelle suspected he must’ve been working to make his voice more naturally feminine“I know this might seem quite shocking to you. Sit down and have some tea. I’ll explain.”

As Lissa and Maribelle sat down, Robin poured tea for them. He was about done pouring tea for himself when Maribelle couldn’t help but ask a question.

“Robin, may I ask why you are dressed as a woman?”

“Yeah,” Lissa interjected. “Your training is over. You don’t have to wear that dress anymore.”

Doubt crept up Robin’s mind as he took a sip of his tea.

“I honestly wasn’t sure if I should tell you either of you this. Especially you, Maribelle. You were always a bit strict when it comes to gender norms.

“I had been raised as a proper lady by my parents and tutors. I am expected to behave as a lady of my standing should. But I can tell that you are a special case.”

Maribelle gently sipped her tea.

“Explain.”

“It all started about a day after you wrapped up my training. I slipped on my regular clothes and I went about my day doing my usual activities, nothing truly important there. But, for some reason, my clothes felt wrong. At first, I thought it was because of all the creams and lotions you had me put on my body. I thought that, with time, things will go back to normal and I can pretend this whole thing never happened.”

“But you were wrong. Is that right?”

“That’s right,” Robin nodded at Maribelle’s question. “Every now and then, my mind turns towards you. You were so graceful, so elegant, so beautiful. I actually felt kind of jealous.”

“So you started your change in attire,” Maribelle responded. “The more effeminate outfits, the longer hair. That explains it, right? I bet you used the same potion we originally used on your hair.”

Robin nodded.

“It was around that time I began having dreams. Funny enough, when we first started my training, I dreamt of dancing with women in suits while I was the one in dresses. But as time flew on, some of those women became men.”

Maribelle wanted to ask the obvious question. But she knew that it’s likely that all of her questions will be answered by the end.

“What happened after that, Robin?” Lissa asked.

“Of course, one night. I couldn’t take it anymore. In the privacy of my own room, I got myself dressed in that lovely white ball gown you gave me. You originally let me keep it as a little joke between the three of us, but I didn’t have a problem with it.”

Robin sipped the tea daintily, taking to Maribelle’s lessons like a duck to water.

“I slipped on the undergarments, did my makeup and put on my accessories. I even put on the corset. Tying it up on my own was quite a pain, I admit. As I got myself completely dressed and looked at my reflection, I came to a sudden realization.”

“What did you realize?”

“That it felt right. I felt so beautiful and feminine and lovely... I want to stay like this.”

“You mean… as a woman?”

“Yes.”

Robin turned his - her - face away from their shocked looks. She didn’t want to look at their faces of disgust, their faces of anger, their faces of… hatred.

“We didn’t know, Robin.”

At the sound of Maribelle’s voice, Robin turned back to the two ladies to find not disapproving or disgusted looks, but faces filled with concern, of worry.

“Yeah,” Lissa said. “When we started this, we wanted to have a little fun at your expense. We didn’t think that it would end up like this.”

“It’s not your fault, Lissa,” Robin answered. “When I first realized my condition, I did some research. From what little I managed to gather through research and my own experience, it’s not something you can get. It’s not so much of a disease as it is a realization.”

“What is this condition?” Maribelle asked. “From what you said, it does not seem to be terribly common around here.”

“It does not seem to have a name from my research. It is too uncommon and hidden to have one.”

“What would you call it?”

“Well, Lissa, I think I’ll call it Gender Identity Disorder. I try to go for a more professional sort of name.”

“Personally, I find that name to be fairly appropriate,” Maribelle sipped some tea.

“Honestly, if I was in your shoes, my parents would never allow me to make such a big change. I would’ve been the next Duke of Thermis and engaged to a potential wife. If I ever came out, it would cause massive political issues for my father and myself.”

Maribelle smirked.

“But, considering you don’t have such issues holding you down, a transition like this would be little to no problem. You would still have to deal with bigotry.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Chrom will understand. I bet he’ll be more than happy to make you a woman legally.”

“But I-:

“But nothing, Robin!”

Maribelle got up and pointed her pink parasol at Robin.

“You are a woman and I’ll make sure that the people of Ylisse will treat you as such.”

“Yeah,” Lissa got up as well. “And anyone who has a problem with it will have to deal with the two of us.”

“It… I…” Robin stammered, her voice breaking. “You...”

Lissa quickly pulled Robin into a tight hug.

“It’s okay to cry, Robin. Just let it out.”

It was rare that Robin cried at all, let alone openly in front of her friends. Now, she was definitely crying. But with that smile on her face, Lissa and Maribelle knew that Robin wasn’t sad at all.

It was then Robin realized her makeup was smearing from her tears.

“I know I’m smudging my makeup. Let me go clean myself up.”

“Let me help, Robin.”

Maribelle took out a handkerchief and began cleaning up the stains on Robin’s face. She took care to wipe off all the makeup the tears ruined. There was barely any left by the time Maribelle was done. Only a brief bit of blush. Barely noticeable at this point.

Eventually Robin stopped crying, allowing her to ask a simple question.

“Maribelle?”

“Yes, Robin?”

“I know I completed the crash course that started this whole thing. But perhaps you don’t mind if you train me on the details that you glossed over? If I’m going to stay like this permanently, I want to make sure that I don’t miss crucial details. It would be quite dreadful if I missed something that I really should know.”

“I would love to, Robin,” Maribelle smiled. “The lessons may be fairly extensive now that we are done with the basics, but I know a wonderful student like you would pass without too much trouble.”

“Well, I wouldn't have gotten this far if it wasn’t for a wonderful teacher like you.”

As the three ladies giggled, they continued their spot of tea. Any worries that Robin had over her future were forgotten for the time being. She knew that with her friends, nothing will stand in her way.

#fire emblem awakening #my fanfiction #involuntary makeover #robin #maribelle #lissa

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bi-apps · 4 years

Text

Not Accepted - Maribelle Beuton

nessascribbles

submitted:

Original Character Application

OOC Information:

Name/Age/Timezone- Nessa / 25 / EST

Activity Level- 6

Ships/Anti-Ships- Uhhh none atm? I’d like Remus tbh but like yeah I care more about chemistry and so on

Did you read the rules? Yeah my dude

IC Information:

Character Name- Maribelle Beuton/Cardon

Age/Birthdate- 21 / October 29th

Faceclaim- Phoebe Tonkin is my #1, but also Blake Lively or Ana de Armas

Label- The Vengeful

Loyalty- Neutral / Fuck this shit

Former House- Ravenclaw

Occupation- Embroiderer at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions

Blood Status- Half-blood

Patronus- Leopard

Boggart- Her mother’s body and Pierre

Traits- - Best Traits -

Intelligence: Maribelle learns quickly and knows a large array of things. She could have been an Auror, a Cursebreaker, or anything else alike it, but under such a vigilant stare she knows she couldn’t be able to do what she needs to, so she decided to go for something simpler. Plus, if they knew what she was, then they’d never let her in.

Creativity: From making dresses, painting, drawing, to writing, she just enjoys making. Creating. She likes making things that make other smile, and it’s one of the few moments anyone can see a softness to her.

Confident: She knows what she’s worth, wolf or not. She’s still a witch that can and will kick your ass.

- Worst Flaws -

Vengeful: She can’t let things go. She remembers too well, and keeps track of what people have done to her to use in the future against them.

Distant: She likes to keep people at an arm’s length, even those she knows don’t really know her.

Harsh: Life is seen very black and white to her sometimes, and either you agree with her or you’re wrong. It’s quite simple to her.

Aesthetic-

Key Points- I wrote a bio cause I don’t know how to control myself https://docs.google.com/document/d/14A4o6IOPixmxb_yhNSbSpZ65Osdod-Cv-ADBITYJy0k/edit?usp=sharing

Was born in France to Elodie Cardon. She had been unfaithful to her pureblood husband due to his cold personality with a muggle man.

Once her husband found out he began looking for her as she ran

She managed to hide in london with her muggle lover but not for long

When Maribelle was fifteen her family sans muggle man was attacked by a pack of werewolves hired by Victor, they killed Elodie and bit Maribelle.

Maribelle apparated home and called whoever her head of house was who called Dumbledore and thus they helped her and hid what she was. Since Remus was already as the shrieking shack or out with the marauders I imagine they got her another place far from everyone on the full moon and etc etc since she’s in her 6th year and shes against not graduating

She graduates and comes to appreciate the wolf within and once graduated begins working as a seamstress for Madam Malkin and is like YEET at the war

Connections- Anyone who wants one is more than welcome to have one! I’m also open to any being added! Maybe Sybil Trewlaney, Septima Vector, and Ludo as friends? Maybe Ludo as an ex? I DONT KNOW!

Extra Info- See Bio?

Para Sample-

When Link’s mother died it had been an unceremonious funeral, what was left of her group and his father. It’d been private, kept only to those closest to her for the ceremony, and in the end it’d been just him and his father by his mother’s grave, sitting quietly as the sun set.

It was private, they had space to mourn, and cry, and just be silent as they stared at the headstone that now represented a mother, wife, and accomplished Knight that died for her Kingdom. It felt calm despite the pain, and then there was today.

Hyrule Castle was enormous, decorated in black cloth that hung on each wall, table, and Knight alike with the symbol of the Crown on it in gold. He’d been here before, a couple of times, but he’d never gone anywhere but the Knight’s quarters, and it was certainly grandeur Link had never seen and was not used to. He’d been to the Zora Domain once, only once, and while it was much larger, it was open and somehow that made the place look less daunting, and of course, Princess Mipha had shown Link all around the Domain when he wasn’t training with the Knights and they’d gone off on a quest somewhere for something. Hyrule Castle on the other end felt cold, large, and somehow not… welcoming.

It was a funeral, it was to be expected, but it still made Link fidget with the ends of his black clothes as he walked along the halls behind his father that gave commands on keeping the Castle safe due to so many people coming to visit and pay respects. It was strange, so different from the funerals he’d attended, which were more than a child of eight should have attended at such a young age, but when his father was a Knight, death became more of a companion than a shadowy figure looming in the distance.

This was… once more, grand. Public.

“Urbosa should be arriving shortly, make sure to guide her to the Princess’ quarters, she’ll want to see her,” Link’s father says, voice firm and heavy, making Link look up and tilt his head, confused by why he sounded so tired when the day had just begun.

“Yes, Sir,” The Knight beside him says, nodding once and bowing his head in respect before running off to do as told, Link staring after him, imitating the bow.

“Link,” His father says beside him, making him jump slightly and look up with a sheepish smile. “I need to to be safe today, a lot of people will be coming, and I need you to also be on your guard, I will be attending to several guests, making sure everyone is doing as they must, can I count on you, little solder?” He asks.

“Yes!” Link says standing up straight and bowing like he’s been taught, though no where near as practiced at the others, he still managed to look respectful, making his father chuckle under his breath, ruffling his too long dark blonde hair.

“Good, now, make sure not to get into any trouble,” His father says moving down to one knee, a mischievous glint in his eye. “And if you do, don’t get caught,” He says poking Link’s nose who giggles shaking his head.

“Dad, I won’t get into any trouble,” Link says back rubbing his nose, though the fit of giggles doesn’t stop. “I promise.”

“I believe you,” His father says standing back up, saluting his son who mirrors him. “Now go on, I have to go meet Princess Mipha.”

“Can I see her later?” Link asks excitedly, his father already beginning to walk and chuckle at his son’s excitement to see the Zora Princess.

“I don’t see why not, take care, son,” His father says and disappears behind a pair of large doors towards where everyone is arriving.

Link smiles, watching his father go before turning moving to a nearby window. Outside people gather and as his father said, Mipha has arrived, smiling kindly like a Princess always should - or so he thought whenever he imagined a princess, someone soft and good and beautiful.

He sighs, leaning his chin on his arms on the edge of the window, Link hoped he’d be able to swim as well as she did someday, maybe even impress her, though she did seem to be surprised with his agility with a sword and spear.

(etc etc this goes on but I think that’s enough XD also yes it’s present tense but I know this is probably past tense so yeah)

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bigboobshaunt · 7 years

Text

The Girl in Question

For Udobure Week, Day 6: Family

Modern AU

Ao3 Link

“Dad, father! Wake up! It’s today already, stop wasting time!” A little girl beamed, jumping on her parents’ beds and shaking them by their shoulders until they were awake.

“Oh... that is today, innit?” groaned the taller of the two, rubbing his eyes and sitting on the bed. Truthfully, he needed more sleep, a good hour or two, but he knew there was little he could to to stop his daughter’s boundless energy.

Smiling, still half-asleep, he looked to the side and saw that his husband proved a much heavier sleeper than he was, changing positions multiple times before agreeing to wake up for real, with Ophelia’s insistence.

“Fairest maiden of all of the lands, I can hardly believe you are already a young lady of 7!” Owain took his daughter into his arms and squeezed her tight.

“Happy birthday, Pheephee. We’ll have a full day today, just like ya wanted,” Brady greeted her, kissing her on the top of her head, before getting up to prepare breakfast for the family.

Owain wasn’t quite ready to let go of her, however, and launched into a tickle storm, which their kid made no attempt whatsoever to fight, even as she giggled loudly with tears in her eyes and a big smile.

“Pigtails?” Owain asked, poking Ophelia’s cheek.

“You got it!” the birthday girl confirmed, watching her dad go grab her favorite black and yellow hair ties. “First, we’ll head to the zoo, I REALLY miss Mr. Snake and all the others, then we can go say hi to grandma Lissa and grandma Maribelle, and then, oh and then, we’ll have cake together!”

“I was kinda thinkin’ we’d have a good breakfast together, first of all,” Brady intercepted her plans, bringing in the trays with tea and her favorite cookies to his own room and placing them over the bed.

“Sounds wonderful to me,” said Owain, embracing Brady from behind and kissing his neck, obviously the sleepiest of the trio.

“Owain… come on, she’s like, right there,” Brady grumbled, trying his best not to smile at the ticklish kisses.

Both of them were a little bit shocked to realize their daughter paid absolutely no attention to them and their public displays of affection, and had opted to instead wolf down her breakfast at a speed Brady swore could break some records.

“The cookies ain’t runnin’ away,” Brady japed, sitting in front of her and grabbing his own cup of tea and handing Owain the one that was his.

The cups were the ones they used for special occasions, Ophelia’s said ‘World’s cutest daughter’ while Owain’s said ‘World’s best dad’ and Brady had the one with ‘World’s best father’ written on it. Ophelia and Owain had gotten weird looks when they bought them, but neither was exactly the type to mind those very much.

“Activities are all well and good, I’m pretty excited for them too,” Owain said, after a rather large and prolonged yawn. “But I don’t think you’ve realized that your father and I also bought you a gift.”

“You WHAT?” Ophelia asked, wide-eyed. “I said you didn’t have to, we’re already doing so much stuff later!”

“Ophelia, ya know yer father,” Brady smiled, “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least get ya somethin’ fer yer birthday.”

“Besides, I’m pretty sure his mom would drag him by the ear to the toy store if we didn’t,” Owain joked, avoiding Brady’s glare.

“No way! Grandma Maribelle is a very sweet lady, she’s only sometimes a little scary, but she wouldn’t do that!” Ophelia complained, pouting.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Owain admitted. “Sorry for that, Brady.”

Vindicated, Brady shot a smug glance at his husband’s direction. “Wonder if she’s also going into law like her grandma. She’s got the public defender part down pat.”

“And the theatrics!” Owain added, knowing it was his influence to thank for that part.

“So… you were saying about the gift?” Ophelia pulled on Owain’s sleeve, trying her best not to look too excited about it, but failing completely.

“Want me to bring it here, or do ya wanna go get it? It’s hidden in the living room,” Brady offered, helping Owain tie her hair appropriately.

Ophelia put her index finger to her chin, in deep thought. It was a pose Brady immediately recognized, for it was the very same one his husband always did. “Will you call me a treasure hunter if I find it?”

“Hark! With her immense clout in the archaeological society and countless adventures under her belt, Ophelia Dusk embarks in yet another mission into the deep jungles of...” Owain began to narrate.

“Roomania!” Ophelia excitedly completed it for him, gaining an approving look from her dad and a giggle from her father.

Running off, the little blonde girl rummaged through their living room with gusto, looking behind the curtains, under the tv stand and behind the table, before finally finding the gaudy, polka-dotted gift-wrapped package behind the sofa.

“Fast as usual. Good job!” Brady commented, giving her a thumbs up so she knew she could open it.

“Oh, I hope it’s the Vampire Exalt! I love the Vampire Exalt...” Ophelia said, having a little trouble opening the gift, though she was helped by Owain, who quickly knelt beside her and assisted her in opening it.

“It is! Oh wow, I can’t believe you bought the one I wanted!” Ophelia thanked her parents, hugging and kissing both of them in the cheek before she sat by herself in the sofa and played with the vampire-themed doll.

In reality, it was a little hard for them to miss that this was the toy she wanted. She had been mentioning the doll frequently ever since it was first advertised on tv, but both men were quite happy to pretend they knew it instinctively.

“Have ya thought up a name for her yet?” Brady questioned.

Ophelia frowned. “Her name is Comtessa Bloodwhisper… I can’t just give her a new one!”

“You should really catch up on the lore,” Owain winked at his husband.

“Dad, father… have I told you that I love the two of you?” Ophelia said, smiling from ear-to-ear.

It didn’t take long for Brady to start crying after she said it, something Owain quickly helped him with, wiping off his tears with his thumb. “Thank ya so much, Pheephee.”

Letting her doll sit by herself for a bit, Ophelia got up and ran to her parents, wanting in on the intimate moment, quickly pulling both of her fathers for a tight hug.

“You may be growing fast, but you’ll always be our little girl,” Owain noted, kissing her cheek.

“Agreed,” Brady added, kissing the other cheek and turning it into what Ophelia referred to as a kiss sandwich.

#Udobureweek #Owain #Brady #Ophelia #Ylisse #my writing #this one fit both Morning and Family so I had nothing to post yesterday ^^;#it's Oph's bday today so I thought it appropriate

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writtingfiction · 5 years

Note

*trips into submissions* Uh hi again a mere mortal has arrived to present another idea for your brilliant writing. I was thinking: Robin dreams of chrom bc of the alternate timeline split and yadda yadda fea stuff. But what if this split had happened so many times but in each one chrom and robin end up together? What if the same pairing had been repeated so much that robin AND chrom feel familiar to one another? Maybe write about how they come together in a new timelime if they both remember?

Why, hello fellow mortal, I must apologize. I would have written this sooner but I took a hit to the head and received a concussion. :( I had fun writing this though, I hope it cheers you up. (oﾟ▽ﾟ)o

pairing: Chrom x Robin

words: 3k

The first time he saw her, there was such a sense of familiarity he was surprised that he did not recognize her. Her body movements all seemed familiar, her voice for some reason made his heart ache. His heart pounded in his chest, he was so confused, why was she so familiar when neither of them had any recollection of each other?

Despite Frederick trying to warn him, nothing could dissuade him. This familiarity seemed too strong to ignore, so keeping her by his side was something he could trust, body and soul. It felt like déjà vu, being by her side as time had passed. There was a connection between the two of them, that he knew, but it seemed deeper.

“Chrom, stare at me any longer and I’m going to think that I’m truly a Plegian.” Robin’s laughter filled the room. Chrom blinked once, twice before realizing his mistake. He let out a nervous laugh, hand scratching the back of his neck, face lighting up a light shade of pink.

“My apologies, Robin. I did not mean to stare.” Chrom said, eyes trained on the wall of the war tent. He could hear the tiny giggles escape her lips.

“You do no harm. What’s on your mind?” Robin said, her gaze softening as they land on the prince who shifts in his spot. There’s a moment of silence before Chrom opens his mouth to say how familiar she is, but a far-off shout interrupts them. A battle is about to begin. She gives Chrom a quick smile, hands grabbing her coat. “Another time, then?” Chrom can only nod as the two of them walk out, strategies falling from her lips as he listens to every word.

He doesn’t get the chance to speak about it again till much later. Chrom has his eyes trained on the stars above him, twinkling brightly as his feet stay firmly planted on the courtyard soil. He wondered if his father was watching him from the stars, along with his mother. What would they think of their children now?

“Stargazing?” A familiar voice pulls him away from the stars and towards the woman whom he has come to trust whole heartedly. It’s Robin, the white-haired tactical genius that his body aches for in a familiar way. Chrom could only chuckle, giving a shy smile.

“It would seem so, what brings you here, Robin?” He asks, what has her up this late walking around the castle?

“I was on my way to the library…” Robin says trailing off, hand pointing in the rough direction of the library. “however, you seemed a bit lost. Thought I would keep you company.”

“That’s very kind of you, Robin.” Chrom smiles, their gazes lingering before she speaks up.

“Although, is everything ok? You seemed a bit distance after our last encounter with Gangrel.” Robin said worried, brows furrowing. Chrom could feel the tension rise in his body at the mere mention of the Mad King’s name. His fists clench tightly at his side but breathed in sharply, trying to relax.

“Yes, after all, everything is alright, for the moment.” Chrom said, glaring at the ground. “A war is upon us, again.” Robin frowned, hand coming up and placing it against Chrom’s shoulder.

“Everything will work out, Chrom. You have your family, the Shepherds and me. We will be by your side till the end. You can count on us; I promise you that.” Robin said, lips pulling into a smile.

“Thank you, Robin.” He looks at her, eyes locking with hers. He couldn’t stop his own heart from swooning. Her white-hair shimmered in the moonlight, her eyes lighting up with the stars reflecting in her eyes. She is the epitome of beauty under the moonlight, although he was sure she would deny it. “You look—”

“Marth?” Confusion filled the beauty woman in front of him. He turned on his spot, spotting the other young man. He echoed Robin, feeling slightly cheated on the night but those feelings were quickly turned to ash when he found out about the night’s events. He felt his stomach drop when the familiar feeling had settled into his bones as he cut down plegian soldiers that dared to try an assassination on the Exalt.

Days had passed since that night. The attempted assassination on his older sister’s life, her kidnapping, the attempted rescue but, the results were in vain. Chrom sat at the edge of his chair, soaked to the bone with a towel draped over his head as he stared blankly at the floor. His chest ached in pain, his throat dry and eyes red. His arms resting on his knees, as his mind drew a blank. It was a void, he had cried, sobbed when he was alone. Now, here he was, a shell of a man not being able to feel a thing as he replayed the death of his sister, nevertheless, what made it all worse was that it was all a familiar pain.

He heard footsteps come towards his room, stop by the door and then he heard nothing. With how long the pause was, he thought they had left but instead there was a soft knock. He didn’t respond, he didn’t want too. To be left alone is what he wanted, alone with his painful thoughts.

“Chrom…?” Her voice was so quiet, so hesitant. He didn’t hear the door open. She came forward, boots just stepping into his view. She called out to him again, voice filling the room. “Chrom, are you alright?” He felt anger boil inside him, of course not, how could he?His hands bawled into fists.

“How couldI be alright?” Chrom seethed. “She’s gone. I’ll never get to see her again, she– she made the choice for me, Robin. I was too powerless to stop him…!” He could see Robin kneel down in front of him, gently grasping at his hands, unfurling them from his tight hold.

“Chrom, I was powerless too…” Her voice was shaky at best, hiding emotions best she could but failing. Hands gripping tighter, as she tried to reassure the both of them. “My plan didn’t save your sister, and I–“

“You had done your best,” Chrom interrupted her, lowering his head even more. “you didyour best. I only have my failures now left to haunt me, along with this-this-pain.” He hissed. Voice lowering down to barely a whisper. “It feels I’ve gone through this before, like an old festering wound.” A pained expression appears on Robin’s face. Every breath she took started to hurt, heart hammering against her ribs. An odd familiar pain had entered her heart as she heard the prince’s words. She had been getting pieces of the past, or what she would like think is the past but it’s always Chrom by her side. She’s sure she hasn’t seen him before but, why the sense of familiarity? The moment she awoke, his name came to her lips naturally, but her own did not.

There were multiple times when that sense of familiarity had appeared. It was exceptionally strong when she was with Chrom. Battling in the arena in Regna Ferox, meeting Gangrel by the border when he took Maribelle; seeing Marth’s face for the first time when she appeared to warn them about the assassination; even the embarrassing moments they shared together at camp. They all felt familiar, like a sense of déjà vu. But there was also a downside, she had wondered why the pain in her chest was familiar when Emmeryn made the choice to sacrifice herself. She felt worse, just by having that feeling of familiarity, and now to hear Chrom say he had felt that familiarity as well; what does she say now. She took a deep breath and called out to him again, but he refused to look at her.

“Look at me, Chrom.” His head barely rose, lifting just enough to see her face be lit up by the corridor light. Her own eyes were red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears. He couldn’t have looked any better. “You’re not alone in this war. I know you’re scared; everyone is. However, you can’t give up. You may not be like your sister, Gods, I don’t think anyone of us is as half as good as your sister. But, if we try, together, we can make a stand for your sister. If you fall, I’ll be right there to pick you back up. Remember, as the future comes approaching us, you don’t have to be like your sister, you can still stay true to yourself.”

“And if I can’t? What if I’m not worthy of her ideals? What if I can’t do anything to save Ylisse, Robin?” Chrom asked, painfully so. He could feel his eyes burn once again, just when he thought he had cried for long enough. Robin gave him a soft look.

“If you’re not worthy, then you shall keep going until you are. You love your home too much to let nothing be done. I’ll be right by your side, Chrom. I’ll pick you back up every time you fall, without fail.” Robin said determined. Chrom took a sharp inhale, exhaling slowly as he digested her words. His hand squeezed her own in reassurance. Eyes looking down at their hands, tears daring to escape once again.

“Thank you, Robin.” Chrom whispered, tears escaping him quickly. Robin quickly enveloped him in a hug, holding him close. They held onto each other, tightly, fearing for moments if they were to let go of one another. Hours passed them by, crying in her arms as he dropped his worries, his concerns of the future. He was a broken glass, shattered pieces on the ground, seemingly no hope in recovery. However, here she came along, delicate hands picking up those broken shards and carefully putting him back together. Like she had done it a hundred times before, this time was no different.

The next nauseating feeling of familiarity was the few moments before the final battle started, the march on Gangrel’s end which he was going to personally see to. Robin was by his side as they overlooked the area, mindless chatter as they waited for the troops to get into position.

“Do you have any plans when this is over?” Chrom asked quietly, eyes scanning the field. His hand fidgeting with a small pouch he had in his pocket. He heard her giggle. He looked at her confused. “What?”

“Haha, hmm? Oh, nothing.” Robin said, turning her gaze away from the confused look of the prince. “I just thought you would be more focused on Gangrel, is all.”

“That’s true, but I know we will win. We’re not running anymore. The Mad King may have started this war, but we’re finishing it today.” His eyes caught hers. A serious expression on his face as his gut twisted in familiarity and nerves. “Together.” Robin gave a wide smile.

“Of course, now, let’s finish this.”

The fight was exhausting, it took every last bit of strength to make it through the battlefield victorious. The cheers were almost deafening, chorus’ of cheers and song had burst out when they had won. However, the only thing on his mind after he slew Gangrel was his tactician, his best friend. He never had to look far and especially not today. He had turned to her the second there were cheers. He was able to see Robin drop her tome and run into his arms. Her arms had quickly wrapped out the prince crying out in relief that everything was finally was over. There was a relieved chuckle that left his lips as he left Falchion to stand on its own in the dirt as his own tired arms wrapped around her.

“We did it!!” Chrom cried out, pulling away to see her face light up. Large, but tired smile on her lips. “You were amazing, we made this far because of you.”

“Thank you, but we have also made it this far because of your charisma.” Her eyes sparkled in that moment; they were free.

“So, the campaign is now over, war has ended. Do you have thoughts of what you now plan to do?” Chrom asked. Robin’s smile only growing brighter. She pulled away, out and away from his arms. Taking a step back, humming as she thought about it.

“Hmm, who knows. Maybe I’ll travel, visit other countries. Maybe get hired as their tactician and then verse Ylisse as the enemy.” Robin said, watching the prince’s reaction. His eyes went wide, shock filling him.

“What!? You can’t be serious, Robin!” The clear distress in his voice had only made her laugh.

“Don’t worry, Chrom. I wouldn’t do such a thing. However, traveling does sound nice…” Robin said, her smile fading.

“You don’t have to leave. I’m sure as things calm down and Ylisse gets back on its feet, I could use an advisor.” Chrom explained, grabbing Falchion and sheathing the legendary weapon. “Among other things…” Confusion took hold of Robin.

“I’m grateful for the offer and I graciously accept but, what are you talking about?” Chrom could now feel his nerves on edge. He was nervous. His eyes locked his Robin’s, he could do this.

“Robin, there’s something I haven’t told you… something I need to tell you. So please, just listen.” Chrom paused, as the two stared heavily at each other. One in confusion and the other a bundle of nerves, but the awkward silence had gotten to them. Chrom’s face started to flush red. Hand rubbing his neck. “This is more awkward than it was supposed to be… um, so, Robin, I like spending time with you. Y’know, as you do tactics and things. I like having you by my side in battles as we slay our enemies, not that I like killing people… or at all. But like, when you do tactics and you plan– that doesn’t sound right… I mean, having your presence on the battle field as we kill the enemy. Oh Gods, I’m just making this worse.” Robin’s face flushed red as Chrom stumbled over his words. Hand covering her face as she continued to listen to him ramble. “What I mean to say, is that I hope we can keep battling– no, that’s– how about I start over? Wait, why are you laughing?”

“I don’t think, I’ve ever been confessed to in such a silly way. Pfft.” Robin giggled slightly; eyes trained on ground.

“What? Gods, maybe I was wrong to pursue in end.” Chrom covered his face with his hand, embarrassment making his cheeks flush a darker red. “Please, just forget everything I’ve said. I don’t want to make things weird for either of us. It’s probably— “

“Chrom.” Robin’s voice cuts in. Approaching him in three steps, hands cupping his face. Their eyes locking with one another. “Forgetting this moment with you would be a mistake, and I think I’ve forgotten enough things in my life.” There was a shy smile on her lips, nonetheless, Chrom was still a mess. His words slowly processing in his brain, but the conclusion of her words not coming fast enough for the tactician.

Robin leaned forward. Their lips pressing against each other, a kiss conveying the emotions they couldn’t convey into words. The poor prince went stiff, at first but soon melted in the kiss. But it wasn’t quick enough. Robin had pulled away, slowly, their lips only inches apart before she pulled back.

“R-Robin?!” Chrom cried, shock, glee, and everything in between coursing through his body. Robin’s face matched Chrom’s in colour. The red painting their faces as they spilled their hearts for each other.

“I may have been to, reserved with my feelings. But, I guess with this, I love yo-“ Robin let out a grunt as Chrom gave her a bone crushing hug. His laughter filling her ears.

“Ahaha! Robin, you’ve made me the happiest man alive! I love you so much!!” Chrom gleefully cheered. Robin smiled brightly, giggles bubbling in her throat. “It’s great having you in my arms again.” He had said so confidently that she had almost missed the word.

“Wait, again?” Robin questioned; their gleeful moment put on pause. The two untangled from each other, confusion and nervous energy surrounding them.

“Again?” Chrom echoed, realizing his choice of words was, strange.

“Why would you say again…? Unless, you’ve been hiding that we do actually know each other this entire time!” Robin said, mind a haze. Chrom immediately dissuaded her.

“No, no! I would never do that, especially to you. To be honest, a slip of the tongue. It felt natural to say it. Familiar, even.” Chrom mumbled. Hand rubbing at his neck, a habit of nerves. That’s when it seemed to have clicked for her. Familiar. She wanted to laugh, perhaps its fate, or even destiny that they were pulled together again. She doesn’t know, but she’s grateful for it. To have Chrom, as a partner and friend, there’s nothing else she could ask for.

“Hmm, I see. Well, it has done no harm.” She smiled widely as her gaze looked upon Chrom lovingly. Chrom chuckled.

“If you say so, but tonight, we celebrate for Emm.” Chrom spoke his gloved hand finding her own, as he guided the two of them back towards their troops. The largest of smiles on their faces as they continued on their ways, forging on a peaceful path.

However, for Chrom and the Shepherds, they would be fighting for this peace once again. The Marth that had gladly helped them from before now joins them once again, but not as Marth, but as Lucina. That was when it had clicked for Chrom himself, the aching familiarity that had been put to rest when he wed his wife, Robin. His daughter from another future had watched over them, but not saying a word. He knows the ache of familiarity and knowing he shouldn’t act upon it; he knew it very well. He was grateful though, the familiar feeling hasn’t led him astray just yet.

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