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jadelynlace · 3 years

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Hvitserk’s First Tattoo / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. here is the visual reference for the tattoo Hvitserk gets (image isn’t mine and all credit goes to it’s original owner). mentions of brotherly bickering, Hvitserk being scared and Ivar tattooing.

synopsis: You finally talk Hvitserk into getting some ink.

✎

“Did I miss it?” You say, nearly falling in through the main door of the shop. “I almost took the ambulance over here just because it has lights and sirens,” Hvitserk offers you an estranged look, one mixed with him being mortified and slightly impressed with your timing after the over night shift.

“I’ve never seen you this excited,” Sigurd calls from his spot, pulling a record from the shelf as he goes about lining it up, pulling the needle over so the music can fill the room.

“She doesn’t even get this excited when she sees my dick,” Ivar teases from his spot and you offer him a less than kind finger gesture.

“Can you blame me?” You remark back and Ivar only returns your original hand motion. “Did you pick yet?” You the ask as Hvitserk studies Ivar’s portfolio, as if he will be quizzed on it at the end of the session.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” He groans, another turn of the laminated pages.

“All of our best talks happen when it’s in the ambulance cabin at four in the morning,” You laugh, patting his back as you round the small counter. Ivar’s hands are quick to seat you on his lap, wrapping around you almost instantly and you both breathe in relief.

“Long night?” Ivar asks softly in your ear.

“Routine bullshit,” You grumble back, his hands tracing up your back and you could almost fall asleep in the very spot. One hand leaves your spine, reaching along the counter to grasp the tall can of his energy drink, offering it to you but you only shake your head. “That crap tastes like cough syrup,” You add as Ivar downs another gulp.

“Hurry up Hvitserk, we’re here after hours for this,” Ivar calls before he pulls the can back to his mouth.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to pop your cherry,” You say and Ivar looses some of the energy drink through a spray from his lips.

“You can get her name on your ass,” Sigurd says, walking past Hvitserk and tapping his uniform clad back.

“Why? So Ivar and I can match?” Hvitserk grumbles back and you laugh against Ivar’s chest.

“How do they know about that?” Ivar asks you quietly, through a teasing voice and you raise slightly, giggling against his mouth as your catch his lips with yours.

“Oh, for fucks sake—Hvitserk here, do that one,” Sigurd says, tapping his fingers against the page. “Paramedic Ragnarsson gets an anatomical tattoo,”

“Nice choice,” Ivar hums, standing to his full height with you latched still around him and he sets you to sit along the counter.

“Is it nap time for the baby?” Sigurd says, voice taking on a toddler’s tone as he sits back at the front desk, and at the receiving end of the pen that flies from Ivar’s grasp. Leather combat boots stalk along the dark wooden floors, pulling the design from its laminated home before Ivar sends the image through the printer in the far corner. Your eyes catch sight of his back, the muscles in his biceps, the veins on his forearms as he programs the machine to spit out the stencil. Looming your eyes up the gray fabric of the old band tee, over the locks that he’s starting to comb into a bun, and then down the dark wash jeans and over how they end in the tops of his shoes. More thoughts swirl about how you couldn’t wait to undress him when you two would go to your apartment.

As Hvitserk makes himself comfortable in the black leather chair, he rolls up the uniform sleeve, a quick unbutton and folding of the blue material, already deciding on where he deemed the appropriate placement. The curl of his sleeve stops above his elbow and you could see the faint burn mark on his wrist from when he tried to eat a marshmallow that was still on fire. You watched Ivar position himself at his station, a meticulous arrangement of his tools, setting everything in a straight line to connect. There was a squirt of the ink into the containers, a pull of gloves onto his hands, wiggling his fingers into their spots and cracking his knuckles. You bit down on your own tongue to stop that moan that tried so hard to escape. Taking the razor to shave off the blond fuzz, he gingerly laid the stencil on his brother’s inner arm, pressing it gently before pulling it back.

“Double check in the mirror that you like the placement,” Ivar says, tossing his head towards the back wall with the mirror surrounded by an intense wooded frame Floki had built. Hvitserk stands, and you see the slight tremor in his hands, never a fan of any sort of pain—intentional or not. You’ve seen this man cry at the sensation of a paper cut, and all but sob when he jerked his shin against the metal grate on the ambulance’s bumper. But, he was also the man who would tell the patients that it was going to hurt—the realignment, or when he set up the hare for an isolated femur fracture—it was going to hurt and they had his full permission to break his hand if need be. You laugh every time there’s an active labor call, and Hvitserk reassures the mother that he has two hands, and if she needs to break one to push her child out, he’s willing to suffer. It calms the hysteria, even on the worst calls you two had walked into, Hvitserk always knew how to calm any of the demons that danced in the ambulance. Ivar turns to you as Hvitserk gazes, probably far longer than other client has to date, and slides himself over to where you’re perched. There’s a removal of one glove, an index finger and thumb on your chin as he kisses you once, twice, and third time.

“I already know what I want to eat for dinner,” He whispers against your ear, just loudly enough so you’re the only one to hear his words. “But make sure you leave the polo on, baby girl,” He adds, kissing your temple and nudging the badge that’s on your chest, as a slow blush roses over your cheeks while he turns back around. “Alright brother, ready?” He calls, tapping the seat of the chair and Hvitserk takes a final look before plopping both himself down and his arm against the cushion.

“Is it going to hurt?” Hvitserk asks, trying to bite the smile he’s showing while both Ivar and Sigurd are preparing to throw whatever they can reach. “I’m sorry I couldn’t resist,” Ivar offers him another lethal glare, nearly plucking the smile from his lips as he begins to spread a thin layer of the ointment across the purple ink. There’s a buzz from the needle gun and Hvitserk whimpers not unlike a puppy. Ivar’s glove-clad fingers stretch to pull the skin taunt, taking the gun down the first line and wiping it with a paper towel.

“Still alright, sir?” You say to Hvitserk as if he’s a patient in your ambulance and you’re watching an IV start.

“Can you hold my hand?” He whines in a faked voice of concern.

“No,” You say back and there’s a snicker from Sigurd on the far side of the shop. The room dulls to only the noise of the record, the vibration of the needle and you watch Ivar so effortlessly in his element. Eyes watching, concentrating on what he’s doing yet singing lowly to the lyrics of the song that floods your ears alike. He rolls his chair slightly, maneuvering Hvitserk’s arm to his liking as he holds it down with his own. Strength unmatched because his least favorite thing is when the client fidgets, since it sends his work to become sloppy, and he’s grown accustomed to a way to hold the body part down to his liking. And that sight makes you think about him over you, body weight pressing against you like a weighted blanket, one with a smart mouth and curved lip who melts at the sheer stroke of your nails on his skin. Your thoughts rolls from the shift you worked prior, reanalyzing what you had done, gone through, pulling it to part like thread. They roll like waves but crash with thoughts of Ivar, his small comment earlier and then they shift. From work to pleasure and you’re squeezing your thighs before you realize it. Ivar’s voice comes through your ears to halt the dissection, and you move your head to see Hvitserk admiring the piece now forever on his skin and you smile back. Another layer of ointment and then it’s wrapped tightly with Ivar’s instructions to leave it on for an hour.

“See? No need to be a little baby about it,” You tease him and he laughs.

“That’s his default setting,” Sigurd’s voice calls as he stands up. “Ivar you’re closing up tonight, right?” And Ivar just nods. “I will see your smiling face tomorrow morning then,” He adds sarcastically, and with a wave and check of his pockets he’s out the shops front door.

“Wasn’t as terrible as I thought,” Hvitserk jokes. “Maybe I will get your name on my ass after all,” You offer him a faked smile and forged laugh. “I’m going to head out too, I got the over time for tomorrow,” And he’s gone with a salute through his hand and the hundred dollar bill on the desk, leaving you and Ivar alone in the shop.

“I like seeing you in here,” You say softly as you watch him clear his materials, place everything in their homes and he smiles while he works. “You’re so relaxed,”

“I can say the same thing when I see you in that ambulance, baby,” He replies as he casts a look back to you and then he’s standing, arm grabbing you to come into his side. “Now let’s get going, I’m really looking forward to my dinner…”

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emospritelet · 3 years

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Twisted Fate - chapter 26

Last time, Gold started to suspect that Neal might be his long-lost son. Here's what happened next

[AO3]

Belle left hospital the next day, Gideon strapped to her chest in a sling while Gold wheeled the suitcase beside her. The day was pleasantly warm, sun on her face as she walked to the car, and it felt good to be out in the fresh air and away from the hospital, with its hurrying staff and constant noise. She was still in pain, and far more tired than she had expected to be, but she stopped off in the lobby of the apartment building to let Marco coo over Gideon and comment on how much he looked like his father. Gold had a tiny smile on his face all the way up in the elevator.

It was a relief to sleep in what she now thought of as their bed, Gold spooned around her and his scent in her nose. Gideon woke them in the night, but Gold kissed her shoulder and whispered that she should rest. She still lay awake listening anxiously until he got back into bed and assured her that Gideon was fed, changed and sleeping again. There was an urge to go and check on him herself, but she told herself firmly to trust Gold to take care of his son, and her body was tired and sore enough that she soon drifted off.

Gold woke early, just as dawn was greying the sky, and tiptoed from the room to make a pot of coffee and check in on Gideon. Quiet as he was, Belle was stirring when he put his head around the bedroom door, and so he handed Gideon to her to feed before returning to the kitchen to pour out the coffee and make a hearty breakfast.

The first few days were hectic as they tried to adjust to their new life, establishing as much of a routine for Gideon as they could. Gold was enjoying being a father again, and fully intended to do the best job he could. Belle was clearly exhausted, and so he tried to ease the burden as much as possible, letting her nap with Gideon while he cleaned up, made dinner and baked. In between his chores, he dealt with work matters, giving instructions to Mr Dove in relation to rent or enforcement matters, assessing collateral for loans over video calls and countersigning a new tenancy agreement. He got up to feed and change Gideon in the middle of the night, hoping that Belle would get some much-needed rest. A small voice at the back of his mind told him that he, too, needed to rest, but sleep was elusive and his mind far too preoccupied to notice his building exhaustion.

He had been a ball of nervous energy ever since he and Belle had had the conversation about Neal. Getting his family settled into their home held his attention for the daylight hours, but once he was lying in bed, his mind was let loose to agonise over every possible worst case scenario it could dream up. The day after their return he was alert to every noise outside the apartment, every suggestion that a knock might sound and the Cassidys be outside. The knock never came, and over dinner the following evening, Belle mentioned that she had received a text from Emma. Henry had developed a bad cold, and Neal and Emma thought it best that they not visit and run the risk of passing it on to Gideon.

“I’m sorry he’s not well,” said Gold, an odd mixture of despair and relief rippling through him and pricking at his skin. “I’m sure they’ll come over soon. I’ll make a carrot cake this weekend. Maybe some chocolate cupcakes. Just in case they show up.”

Belle gave him a level look, as though she wasn’t fooled by his easy tone. She probably wasn’t.

“This must be hard for you,” she said quietly, and Gold put down his fork, abandoning his pretence at equilibrium.

“I still don’t know what the hell I’m gonna say to him,” he admitted. “How do I even raise the subject? Cupcake, Neal? Oh, by the way, did your mother ever mention that your father was Scottish? Kind of short? Me?”

He grimaced, running his hands over his face, and stilled at the warm pressure of Belle’s hand on his arm. He spread his fingers to gaze out through them into calm blue eyes.

“There isn’t going to be an easy way to do this,” she said gently. “But you could always try talking about your past, see if anything resonates with him.”

The fingers snapped shut, hiding her from his sight, and Gold sighed heavily before dropping his hands back to the table and sitting back.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That seems - more natural, I suppose.”

“You could always ask Archie for advice,” she suggested, and he nodded.

“That’s true. Although we don’t know whether there’s anything there to ask advice about yet.”

“I suppose.”

“If there is…” Gold sat forwards again, threading his fingers together nervously. “If there is, if Neal really is my son, I have a feeling Dr Hopper will be seeing a lot more of my money.”

Belle smiled, squeezing his arm again.

“A worthy investment, wouldn’t you say?”

“If it gets me a good relationship with my family, absolutely.” He gave her a tiny smile, and she beamed, her eyes gleaming.

“It’s already doing that,” she said softly. “I’m proud of you. Facing your pain, your past, your fears… it’s a brave thing to do.”

He smiled, her words making his heart swell with love, even as he endured the discomfort of unexpected praise.

“Well, I have many years of cowardice to make up for,” he said, with an awkward smile.

Belle gave him a somewhat sad smile in return before sitting back, and there was a moment of silence. He picked up his fork again, cutting into the slice of almond cake and spearing it with the tines.

“What about you?” he asked. “Did your father say when he’d be visiting?”

Belle nodded as she cut a piece of her own cake.

“He said next Monday,” she said. “It’s usually a slow day in the shop, so he’s gonna close up at noon after he’s dealt with the flower delivery, and drive down. We’re planning to meet at four-thirty.”

“Ah.” Gold popped the piece of cake into his mouth, enjoying the soft sweetness of ground almonds and the tang of orange zest. “Well, he’s welcome to stay, of course.”

Belle eyed him over her fork, but shook her head.

“He’s only coming down for the day, and to be honest I think that’s a good idea,” she said. “I said I’d meet him at the diner by the park, and I think it’s best if it’s just me and Gideon. I thought we could go for a walk and get something to eat. That’s probably enough contact for both of us at this stage.”

“As you wish,” he said, secretly relieved at not having to play nice with Moe French.

“Depending on how this first visit goes, he might be staying over in future, though,” she added.

“Of course.”

“And you never know,” she said, spearing another piece of cake. “Maybe one day we’ll move back to Storybrooke. You, me, Gid, and - well, we’ll see how things go.”

She gave him a secretive little smile, and for a moment he envisioned entering the pink house with several small children racing past him to fill the place with life and love and laughter. He smiled back.

“That sounds wonderful.”

Belle was enjoying motherhood, but she wondered how single mothers coped alone. Gold had been amazing, racing around the house keeping it clean and tidy, cooking delicious meals for the two of them and helping to feed and change Gideon. He insisted on being the one to get up during the night, even as she said they should take it in turns, but she had to admit that it was a relief to get some rest as her body recovered. He made cakes and cookies and brought her breakfast in bed while she fed Gideon, and made sure she wanted for nothing.

She was worried that he was doing too much; she caught him napping on the couch one afternoon with a pile of laundry in his lap, hands buried in Gideon’s sleep suits and head back against the cushions. She had let him sleep, tiptoeing through to the kitchen to make some tea, and made the dinner herself that evening.

As the time drew nearer for her father’s visit, she found herself getting nervous, and Gideon seemed to pick up on it, growing fractious as she dressed him for the trip outside.

“You sure you don’t want me to come?” asked Gold, helping her get him into the stroller, and Belle shook her head.

“It’s fine, really,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be okay once we’re out and he’s got something new to look at.”

“In that case,” he said. “I’ll make something nice for when you get back.”

“You always do.”

“Well, something special, then,” he said. “What would you like?”

Belle pursed her lips.

“A full night’s sleep and a foot rub?”

He grinned.

“Consider it done.”

“I’ll be eating about five-thirty,” she added. “So I won’t want anything for dinner, but I’ll probably feel like curling up with a glass of wine and something stodgy.”

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

He finished tucking Gideon in, and kissed his cheek before straightening up to kiss Belle. She clung to him a little longer than usual, and he squeezed her tight.

“It’ll be okay,” he said softly. “And I’m only a phone call away if you need me.”

She nodded, taking a deep, fortifying breath, and set her hands to the stroller, pushing it towards the elevator. Glancing back over her shoulder, she could see Gold watching her from the doorway, and she gave him a reassuring smile as she pressed the elevator call button, hoping for a positive outcome.

The apartment was eerily silent without either Belle or Gideon, and Gold didn’t like it. He busied himself cleaning up, folding a freshly-washed pile of laundry and vacuuming the floors. He also made up a pan of chicken casserole, adding a generous glass of red wine, and set it to a low simmer while he pondered what else to cook. He made some bread, pummelling the dough briskly before setting it aside to rise, and wiped flour-covered hands on his apron before poking through the store cupboard again. Belle had mentioned wanting something stodgy to eat, so he decided to make a pan of brownies.

By the time he had finished mixing the batter and put the tin in the oven, it was a quarter to six. He poured himself a glass of the wine and took a large gulp, one toe tapping on the floor as he wondered how Belle’s dinner with her father was going. He hadn’t received a distressed phone call, so he had to assume she was fine. She was more than capable of standing up to her father, but he hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. Surely not even Moe French could maintain his bad attitude when he got to hold Gideon.

A knock at the apartment door made him start, and he set down his glass, wiping his hands on his apron and grasping his cane to head for the door. Looking out through the spy hole, he paused as Neal’s face glanced up, his figure distorted by the curve of the lens. Gold’s heart started thumping high in his throat, blood pounding, and he swallowed, his throat dry, the handle gripped tight. His hand shook as he opened the door, and he licked his lips nervously as Neal grinned at him, hefting what looked like a leather laptop bag up a little further on his shoulder.

“Hello, Neal,” said Gold, unsure where his calm tone had come from, but relieved that he sounded normal.

“Hey,” said Neal, patting the bag. “Belle asked Emma to pick her up a couple of books from the university library. I said I’d drop ‘em off on my way home, since I was in the area.”

Gold made a decision.

“Please, come on in,” he said, stepping back and holding open the door. “Belle’s out at the moment, but you’re welcome to wait. I could make some coffee. Or I’ve opened the wine, if you’d prefer a glass of that.”

Neal’s eyes brightened.

“Really? Wouldn’t say no, it’s been a hell of a day.”

He stepped into the apartment, and Gold closed the door behind him, following him into the kitchen and trying to calm his racing heart. Neal shrugged off the strap of his bag, putting it on the table with a heavy thump of books and wriggling his shoulder.

“Belle should try e-books,” he said. “Less chance of a dislocated shoulder.”

Gold chuckled at that.

“I offered to get her one, but she prefers the feel and smell of real books,” he said, getting a second glass from the cupboard and pouring a measure of wine. “Not that she’s had all that much time to read lately.”

“No, I guess not. Thanks.” Neal took the wine. “You say she’ll be back soon?”

“She took Gideon to go and meet her father, but I’m expecting her back in the next half hour or so.”

“You didn’t go too?” asked Neal, and Gold pulled a face.

“Let’s just say that the peace between the two of them is new and fragile, and my presence really wouldn’t help that.”

“Yeah, I pretty much heard her dad’s a tool,” said Neal, making Gold grin.

“My opinion of him is fairly low, but I have to say the feeling’s mutual.”

“Guess you can’t choose your family,” said Neal, and took a drink. “Wow! That’s nice!”

“A favourite of mine.” Gold hesitated, turning the glass between his fingers. “How’s Henry?”

“Yeah, he’s a lot better,” said Neal. “Totally snot-free, happy to say. We thought we might come over Friday, if you’re up for having visitors.”

“I’m sure we’d love that.”

Another pause. Gold took a mouthful of wine, feeling his pulse thud in his throat, his skin tingling. He almost choked as he swallowed, and blinked rapidly, his eyes watering.

“You okay?” asked Neal. “Went down the wrong way?”

“Yes. Uh - shall we go through to the lounge?”

Gold gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen door, and Neal wandered off, leaving him to follow on feet that felt as though they were made of steel plates. It was a relief to sit down, and he had to stop himself from tapping his feet restlessly as he turned the glass between his hands and tried to think of something to say. Neal was good enough to break the heavy silence.

“How’s life with Gideon?” he asked, and Gold smiled.

“He doesn’t give us a lot of time to sit and take a breath, that’s for certain,” he said, “But it’s wonderful. I’m incredibly lucky.”

“You’re enjoying being a dad again, huh?”

“Very much.”

“Is it like you remember?” asked Neal, and Gold hesitated. Here, at last, was an opening. An opportunity.

“With my first son,” he said. “I wasn’t there for the first eighteen months of his life. A little like you and Henry.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” Gold looked down at his wine, deep red rippling catching tiny specks of light. “It wasn’t by choice, I might add.”

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you weren’t in jail,” said Neal, and he smiled.

“No, not jail. Unless of course you count the one of my own making.”

“Deep.”

“Pompous. Sorry.”

Neal chuckled, and Gold took a drink of wine.

“His mother and I weren’t suited,” he said then. “We were never in a proper relationship, and I wasn’t surprised when she left town. But then she came back two years later, with a child. My child, so she said.”

“You think she was lying?”

“No,” he said immediately. “No, I knew he was mine. At least - at least I thought that I knew. I could - I could feel it.”

He tapped his closed fist against his heart, and Neal watched him silently. Gold gave a tiny shrug.

“Of course I wanted to give him everything I hadn’t - that is - I wanted to do the best for my son as I could,” he said, floundering a little. “I worked hard, earned a good wage - unfortunately, that meant spending more time at work, and less time at home. Milah didn’t appreciate being, in her words: ‘stuck indoors all day with a screaming brat’.”

Neal had gone very still.

“Did you say Milah?” he asked neutrally.

“My ex,” said Gold, wishing his heart would stop thumping so hard. “Anyway, I came home one day, and she’d gone. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised at that, but I never thought she’d take him. I never thought…” He cut off, ducking his head. “I never thought I’d lose him.”

Neal took a swallow of wine, and Gold squeezed his glass in an attempt to still his trembling hands.

“What happened?” asked Neal.

“Well, I found out that without being named as his father, I had no right to find out what had happened to him,” he said wearily. “So I had to search alone. She moved around a lot: from Scotland to England, and eventually, to the US. The last place I could trace them to was Social Services in Phoenix. She’d left him there. Said she’d come back and never did.”

Neal shook his head, looking stunned.

“So - so what happened?” he asked. “Did you find him?”

“No.” Gold eyed him steadily. “No, he’d gone. Run away. I was three months too late. I kept searching, but there were no more leads. He knew how to hide, it seemed.”

Neal swallowed hard, and set down his glass.

“You said you weren’t named as the father,” he said. “So his name wasn’t Gold, right?”

“No,” said Gold. “His last name was Bonny, after his mother.”

Neal pushed to his feet in a rush, agitation making his nostrils flare.

“Who told you my mother was called that?” he demanded. “Was it Emma? What did she say? How did you know that?”

“What?” Gold shook his head, an invisible hand squeezing at his heart and leaving him breathless. “I don’t - Emma didn’t tell me anything, I just - well, I remember Milah’s name, of course I do. And - and your name is Cassidy.”

“Because I changed it!” Neal began to pace, running a hand through his hair and looking shattered. “I don’t - I can’t…”

He shook his head, stomping towards the door.

“No, please!” said Gold desperately, pushing to his feet. “Please, don’t go, I just - I need you to listen for a moment.”

“I can’t!”

“Please!” he urged. “Please, my son’s name is Bailey. Bailey Stephen Bonny. He was born on the first of May, twenty-nine years ago, and - and I’ve been searching for him ever since he disappeared, ever since his mother took him from me.”

“This is - this isn’t possible.” Neal shook his head, looking devastated. “This can’t be real. I have to - I have to go, I have to think.”

“No, wait!”

His hand was on the door handle, and Gold had reached out, wanting to touch him, desperate to touch him. He drew back at the last minute, pain clawing at his chest, as though his heart was trying to tear its way out. Neal’s knuckles were white on the handle, his body shaking with tension, and Gold blinked tears from his eyes.

“Is it you, Bae?” he whispered, his voice breaking a little. “Is it really you?”

The name on his tongue seemed to break whatever spell had fallen over them, and Neal wrenched at the door, barging out into the corridor and slamming it shut behind him. Gold sagged, shoulders slumping as he gripped the cane handle to hold himself upright. It’s him. It’s my son. My Bae.

#fic: twisted fate #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic

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stenbrozier · 4 years

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Adopting a Kitten with the Adult!Losers

Warnings: slight PTSD mention from cat attacks + swearing

——————————————————————————

Bill:

- He’d be a little hesitant about getting a cat

- Not because he doesn’t like them, just because he never had any pets growing up and he didn’t wanna do the wrong thing

- You had found the Calico kitten on the side of the road on the way home from work shaking in the rain storm, and, while he was all for helping the poor thing, he thought that you were going to take it to a shelter after a day or so

- But when you gave him puppy eyes and asked him to keep it, Bill became putty in your hands and immediately ran to the pet store to get the cat a cute lil collar and the other things she needed to live comfortably

- You named her Jupiter and she was very bouncy and energetic, something Bill could simply never get used to

- She’d jump on his desk and slide on the papers or run under his feet when he was coming downstairs for dinner

- But he loved her nonetheless

- Bill didn’t show it, but you could tell he loved whenever she’d curl up in his lap or whenever he heard her little feet running across the hall to come see him in his office

- One time, while he thought you were taking a nap, you heard him playing with her and giggling softly, talking to her in an adorable little baby voice

- He simply loved her, even as she got older and become more relaxed but more clingy

- Jupiter could be most likely found in his lap or in his arms, and it was simply the most adorable thing

Richie:

- He hates cats

- He didn’t have any animals growing up, but he was attacked by the neighborhood stray when he was around 9 or 10, and ever since then, he thought that they were demons

- Richie was walking through LA to get you guys something good for breakfast when he ended up in front of a pet store and he had the crazy urge to walk in

- As soon as he stepped in, there was a cat cage and there was a tiny white kitten with a little pink color on

- Richie didn’t know why but his heart kinda melted and he got all excited

- He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture, sending it to you accompanied by a text that read “please 🥺🥺”

- “Rich I thought you hated cats.” “yeah but this one is pretty” “fine but you better still be getting breakfast”

- He adopted the cat, getting everything she needed and literally going overboard

- After picking up some pancakes at the old diner in the city, he walked back with bags filled with things for her in one hand, your breakfast in the other, and then her sleeping in his shirt pocket

- Richie walked in with a smile on his face and you cooed at the little kitten softly, begging him to name her Marie, like the cat from Aristocats

- “Baby I don’t care as long as she can sit at the table when we eat” “Richie cats sit at the table their food bowl belong on the floor” “No she’s a princess and she should be treated as such”

- And to think that just hours before, Richie refused to let a cat step foot in the house

Eddie:

- When you guys moved into your first house together, he was adamant on no animals

- He grew up believing that he was allergic, despite how many times he went to a friend’s house with a dog or a couple cats and nothing happened

- But one day, as you were exploring the little town you guys moved into, you stumbled upon a pet store and begged him to go in

- Eddie was reluctant but when he saw how excited you got when you saw the little kittens in the cage by the window, he gave in

- “Eddie, they’re so tiny” you reached your hand in and started playing with a solid grey one, the sunlight bouncing off its fur and reflecting a silvery light

- You asked to pick it up out of the cage and when the worker handed it to you, she told you his name was Mushroom

- “Eddie, did you hear” “Yes, Baby, I heard. Mushroom” Eddie had is arms crossed over his chest but when the cat snuggled into your chest his heart melted a little at the face you gave him

- “Ed-“ “What does a cat need”

- You smiled wide and told him the basics: food, bowls, litter box, litter, and you even convinced him to get a couple of quiet toys

- He wanted to get a collar for him, but he decided that he would be a strictly indoor cat and there would be no need

- On the walk home, Mushroom stayed in your arms as you talked to him softly, getting back a few meows in response

- Eddie just smiled and wrapped his hand around your waist, holding everything else in his free hand

Stanley:

- As soon as you guys moved in together after college, he wanted an animal. He was able to work from home with his accounting job, and you couldn’t, so he was always very lonely

- Stanley is a whiner. He whined about you leaving for work every morning or when you were too tired to watch a movie with him at night

- So for his birthday, you decided you were going to get him a lil friend

- You went to the shelter, asking to see all the cats cause he would not like a dog, and you saw this older cat named Margo

- She was about 4, all nice and calm, and she had a pretty black coat with piercing eyes that reminded you of Stanley’s

- You had to get her, and so you did

- You wanted to surprise Stan, obviously so you brought her home through the back door, knowing his was working in his office in the front of the house

- You waited until he had gotten up to go to the bathroom to walk out into main part of your house, letting the cat out to get accustomed

- Stanley walked back in with a glass of water and nearly dropped it when he saw the little fuzzy being sniffing around his wheelie office chair

- “No way” he had tears in his eyes as he calmly went up to the cat, scratching behind her ear “whats her name”

- “Marco” “Holy shit. Hi, Marco, I’m your dad”

- She snuggled right up into his hand causing him to start crying because of how happy he was

- “Now I won’t be lonely ever again. God, (Y/N), I love you”

Mike:

- Since you guys lived so close to the library, you were able to think about getting an animal

- You both worked the same hours together at the library, so a dog was out of the question, but Mike brought the idea of getting a cat

- It just so happened that a few days after you guys talked about it, you found a skinny kitten curled up underneath the awning of the entrance on a hot day

- You took the kitten in, and placed it on the front desk

- “Mikey, we have to keep him” “Okay, he can be our library cat”

- You never really gave him a name, just always called him “Baby”

- You guys bought him everything he needed and got him a collar, knowing that he’d probably be happier as an outdoor cat as well

- You guys attached a little cat door to the front of the library

- You also started taking donations for the local animal shelter in honor of the new kitten

- You guys also got more visitors because they all came to see your kitten

- As he got older, he’d wander a lot and would bring back friends, sometimes pregnant friends

- There were many times that you guys had to replace the pillows of the couches because there were little kittens born on them

- But, since you and Miek had no kids, “Baby” and his friends were always welcome, even if you told them no because they’d get in anyways

Ben:

- Ben always wanted a dog, but it was difficult to get one with your busy schedules

- So you ended up getting a cat from the shelter, a big 5 year old Maine Coon named Ziti

- He was big and cuddly enough for it to seem like there was a dog around the house

- But easy maintenance cause it was still a cat

- Ben would be gone for weeks at a time and you worked 8 hour days, so it was the best option and it was nice on your end to not come home to emptiness some days

- It was really strange having such a small animal in such an expansive house, but you wouldn’t trade it

- He’d lay with you and Ben during movie nights and would beg for attention with harsh, deep mewls

- Ziti would sit on Ben’s lap while he did conference calls, and it was really funny to you because he would have this stern look on his face that would just scream “I’m involved too”

- “Baby, come take Ziti” “Mr. Hanscom...you named him Ziti?” “That was his given name...(Y/N)!”

- Ziti was attached to Ben, like he was always with him and it was so sweet to watch Ben prepare dinner and have Ziti sitting on the counter next to him

Bev:

- She had always wanted a cat. It was you who was hesitant

- While you were both home for work, she still wanted another companion around that would make your small studio apartment feel a little more like home

- You felt bad for keeping an animal cooped in your apartment

- But Bev argued that cats were made for apartment life

- So you went to the shelter and adopted a ginger cat named Rocky

- He was big and tough and liked to cuddle

- He was also severely distracting because he was talkative and it annoyed you to no end

- But Bev wanted him because he would sit with her while she sewed dresses together

- He would sit with you in the couch against your laptop because he liked the heat emitted from it

- But he was very large and it was hard for you to focus because he looked so content and you just wanted to kiss him all the time

- He had that effect on you

- He was your guys’ baby and he knew it

#stanley uris x reader #richie tozier x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #bill denbrough x reader #beverly marsh x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader #it chapter one imagines #it chapter two imagines #masterlist

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blackrosesfanfic · 3 years

Text

Chapter 240

Chris

"Christopher, this is fucking real." Amber snaps.

I sit up in bed. "Bae."

She stands in front of the mirror. "This is going to be fucking... There's so much shit. I will be having a baby next year. What are we doing? Tell people? Not?"

"Girl, go to damn sleep."

"I can't." She blows. "Do you want to go with me to tell my parents? I mean like you going with me. So when we going?"

I sigh. "Arrange it and let me know. I don't fucking care. Go to sleep."

She walks towards the bedroom door. "It's fucking late. Get out the bed, FatHead."

"Walk faster." I groan.

"Aye, Chris." Trey says walking in the room.

I sigh. "Yeah."

"Cammie's mom made gumbo."

"For breakfast?"

"Bitch it's fucking 11."

I look at the clock. "I thought you were leaving."

"We all leaving tomorrow. You got the place till tomorrow. Plus Cammie's stepfather is here and Cammie acting like a human. I mean... me and Caden just woke up but anyway. She doing better."

"I thought it was you that needed fixing."

He shrugs. "My shit good."

"Where my baby?" I say looking around.

"Probably eating." Trey shrugs.

I sit up. "Is it wrong for wanting Amber pregnant and giving her a hard time about not wanting it?"

"What woman you know happy to be pregnant once she pregnant? You see Leah. You knew Cammie and MiMi. She pregnant. You take the happy days and you fucking go with it any other day."

"She not that far along."

"She pregnant. Who cares? They feel that shit."

I start to get out of bed then grab my balls when I feel a shit load of air. I chuckle at the face Trey makes. Before he could say anything Lane runs into the room.

"Chris you butt out!" Lane yells.

"Lane?" Cammie snaps.

Lane grabs Trey's legs. "Daddy, get me. Daddy?"

Trey picks him up as he scrambles from what might have been Cammie coming. Trey turns around walking out. I get up and walk to the bathroom. I'm not fucking getting rid of my baby. Amber can shut the fuck up and deal with life. She knew we were once trying. Nobody has been doing shit not to get pregnant.

"Mama Cammie can cook her ass off. Taste this."

"No." I snap.

She makes a lot of noise. I look behind me at her.

"Why are you being mean?"

"I feel like you putting all this stress on me about this baby when you and I both know you keeping it. Why argue?"

"Are you high? What are you talking about?" She snaps walking out. "What's happening? Chris acting mean to me because I'm not trying to kiss his ass today. Chris! You have a plane in the morning! I told him."

I'm fucking pissed off at the way she is acting right now. Like who the fuck is this when you been acting so shitty yesterday? I feel like she is acting fake as shit. But I don't know which Amber is fake. Is it this nice as person that seems to be okay with being pregnant or is that hateful bitch from last night fake? I walk into Cammie and Trey's room. Nobody was in there. I sigh.

"Nooo." Lane cries.

"Yo, what are you doing?" Trey asks walking past me into the room.

I realize that I was just standing there. "Ain't no way they can flip like that."

"Man, you don't know shit about little people then. But we woke up like this."

"Huh?" I retort. "Pregnant women."

He laughs. "Oh, yeah. I told you."

"I need to work on my attitude." I shake my head.

"Go talk to Rollie. I'm still working on my fucking attitude." He snatches Lane up from the bed. Lane starts crying. "Boy, what are you doing? Let's take a nap. Wait til your mama gets back."

Lane cries. "No tell Mommy."

Trey lies down on the bed with Lane. "Now is a good time to talk Chris. Go."

"Huh?"

"Talk to Amber while she feeling good, nigga. Do everything while she feeling good."

"Oh." I say turning to walk out. "You seen my daughter?"

"Getting spoiled by Cammie's mom. Cammie's nice twin."

Amber wasn't anywhere in the kitchen or front part of the house. I won't hunt her down to disturb her from her bouncy attitude. I'll wait til after I eat. I sit down at the table with Marco. He looks at me.

"Chris Brown right?"

"Nigga." I snap.

He chuckles then shows me his phone. There's a half naked woman on Facetime. I lean forward looking at the screen. I guess the nigga was showing me to someone not showing me his phone. She smiles faintly. I narrow my eyes at Marco. I guess all men are fucking dogs.

"You bold." I say looking down at my phone.

"She ain't shit to me." Macro's ass says out loud. Damn.

The girl says nothing. What the fuck? I didn’t think that was Marco. I just saw him as. Well shit. The motherfucker is never around. His baby mama is never with him or his kid. Hell they been together for a long as time and not married. It all makes sense. He hangs up the phone randomly. Like he had said bye.

"Marco you work?"

"Military."

"Who was that?" I nod towards the phone.

He kinda shakes his head. "I used to be in the military. I work at a gun manufactory company, which I got through my military clearance."

Hilda walks into the dining room. Oh shit. "Why you never do what I tell you?"

"What didn't I do?"

"Where is your son?"

Marco picks his phone up then puts it in his pocket. This man is clearly not paying attention to shit Hilda is saying. She slaps his dreads then she sucks her teeth walking out of the room. What kinda relationship is this? Marco chuckles to himself then he stands up.

"Thought you were different." I say to him.

"From who?" He shrugs.

I shrug back. "Don't know any faithful people nigga."

"I'm faithful." He nods. "Devin faithful."

"Devin not."

Marco makes a face. "This last time they been together. That’s been like 3 years. He a pretty good motherfucker."

"How you fucking faithful my nigga? I saw that fucking girl. I know you fucking loud ass girl. She ain't gonna go for you talking to some bitch on the phone."

"You right." Marco nods. "Aye, Baby!"

The sliding door opens. "Marco, go get your fucking son. Why are you calling me?"

"Tasha calling me again. I answered."

"I can't stand your childish ass shit." She says closing the door.

Marco laughs and walks out the door. "I tried."

"I thought I was fucked up." I say to myself.

I could hear him laughing still. I got a feeling he didn't say shit about that girl on his phone. I don't think I'm close enough to Hilda to start some shit about a girl on her man's phone. Let me mind my business. Weird ass guy.

Rollie

"Daddy, I... Daddy, you listening?" Jordan asks.

"Yes, Baby." I reply.

She hugs my neck. "I love you."

"I love you too." I say eating my food.

"Grandpa?" Jordan says funny. "Daddy, me and Grandpa going to look for seashells down by the big rocks. Oh Daddy, I have to tell you about my new grades. 3 A's and a B cause I didn't know we had a test and I missed school. I mean I didn't do the make up work. That's why. Is the B okay?"

I kiss her arm thats around my neck. "It's not okay that you didn't turn in work. So you didn't do everything you could but I like B's. I think you can try harder next time."

"Yes, sir, I can. Cause Mommy say I can't miss school if I can't make up my work. I want to go to California with you whenever I can. Or wherever you go."

"Can I eat?"

She let's go of my neck. "I'm going to ask Lexi if I can braid her hair like mine."

"Okay." I say relieved.

"God always has a way." Lonnie says.

I look at him. "What you talking bout, Preacher?"

He smiles at me then eats his food. After a few seconds he nods. "I think we can be friends on different terms now. You see how you can love a child that isn't yours. God teaches lessons all the time."

"Yeah."

"You still pray?"

I stare at him for a minute. He just casually talking and eating. Not caring if he talking to himself. Aight Lonnie. I do see how you can love a child that isn't yours. I don't need him and I never needed him to become the man I am today. But it was never any disrespect between us. I just simply needed him to know I didn't need a daddy. I guess we agree.

"Maybe not enough." I nod.

"Trey?" Lonnie says standing up. "Won't you have a sit? Talk a bit."

I glance at Trey. He looks at me then he walks into the room. "Sure."

"I like to be blunt." Lonnie says sitting and continuing to enjoy his meal.

"Good." Trey says.

Lane comes in the room whining. He wedges himself in between Trey's legs and watches me. What little boy? You got your daddy. Why you staring at me?

"I try to mind my business. That's not always best. Jayla needs a better man. More specifically a better husband then you. One who is complete."

I chuckle then look at Trey. Of course he had his face balled up mad. But Lonnie kept eating his food. I chuckle at that as the awkward pause feels the room. What are you going to say next Lonnie? You come here thinking you the fix to everyone's problem. What's going to fix this nigga?

"You aren't complete without God."

"Oh." I whisper. "Deep."

Lonnie looks at me. "Living in sin is equally as wrong as murder, in this case, suicide. You did good by getting married. God isn't going to punish you for doing right. He won't punish you for being rich either. But you have to acknowledge him and include him in your marriage. Complete yourself with God and you will be a better man."

"God?" Trey says like he never heard of God.

"Do you think your wife wanted to get married because of her family or because of her relationship with God."

Trey frowns. "Because of her reputation."

"Her reputation?" Lonnie frowns. "Well back home she is the sweet God fearing daughter of Gwendolyn. You know the good one. The one that's always in church. Until things happened at school 6 years ago. If I would have known then maybe she wouldn't have her sweet kids by you. So I won't go back in time. Because God makes no mistake when it comes to the lives that he puts on this Earth. Those boys were meant to be your boys. You were meant to be her husband."

"Yeah." Trey says.

Lonnie stands up from the table. "Would you like to pray with me later? Maybe I can give you some personal advise."

"That's cool." Trey says low.

"Good. Lane?" Lonnie says nodding then he chuckles.

Lane climbs into Trey's lap. "Daddy?"

"Okay, fine, Lane." Lonnie says walking out. "We will continue our game."

"I don't get why you and Cammie hate them so much. They don't seem all bad." Trey frowns.

I shrug. "Cause you older, wiser. Would you have honestly listened to that bull... BS as a teenager? A teenager that recently lost their parent? No. That's your answer. I answered for you."

"Maybe I do need to focus my marriage around God."

"Should have been done that." I say standing up and slapping Lane lightly.

Lane just hugs Trey. "Leave me alone."

I chuckle. "What is this man problem?"

"I don't know." Trey says hugging Lane back. "You okay Lane?"

"I okay." Lane says hugging Trey still. "Uncle Rollie hitting me."

Trey smiles at me. "Rollie don't hit him. He doesn't want to play right now."

I smile. "Sorry."

Bad ass gonna look at me to see my reaction. I leave out of the dining room going into the kitchen. Lonnie was sitting with April talking to her. Of course about God. He can't help take the church everywhere with him. But hell if it help Cammie and Trey then he needs to bring the whole church in this bitch. They need God.

"Rollie." Leah says walking into the kitchen. She touches my arm. "I don't know."

"Okay."

She grabs a bowl. "Did she make some that's not spicy for the kids?"

"My mama doesn't make hers spicy. She also makes the rice on the side." I say taking her bowl. "I'll do it for you."

"Oh..." Leah says frowning at me. "Thanks."

I nod my head at her. She hugs herself just staring at me. "Oh, did Jordan tell you about her grades? She wanted to be the one that told you. She was proud of her grades because she said you would be happy. Like I'm not happy when she makes good grades."

"Cause you fake." I say kissing at her.

"I tell that girl all the time how proud I am of her. She just really soaking this Daddy business up. Don't break my baby's heart."

I hand her the bowl. "I would never. Yours maybe."

She doesn't take it. Instead she eats some out of it cautiously. I look down her shirt as she leans forward. Her titties done grown like she already has milk in them. She snatches the bowl from me then turns my head towards the fridge. I look at my mother. She smiles slightly.

"Didn't hear me, TumTum?" She chuckles. "Did you like the gumbo?"

"Yeah, it was good." I nod.

She nods back. "April said I should have made my curry chicken. I didn't want to make anything too spicy. Plus gumbo can feed a lot. Maybe I'll cook her some another time."

"You should have made a cake."

"You want me to?" She nods. "I can get the stuff for it."

I shake my head. "Don't do anything special for me."

"Gwen, Lane is acting like he doesn't know me."

"I told you not to play that game with him. He doesn't stop his little games. Such a trickster like his mother was."

Lonnie chuckles to himself not saying anything. He rubs her arm then walks away. I leave out of the kitchen. I feel a lot differently towards Lonnie and my mother than I did years ago. I stop in front of Cammie and Trey's room.

"Lane!"

"No!"

I step inside. Cammie wasn't in the room. It was just Trey laying there with Lane on his chest. He was whispering something to Lane. Cammie comes out of the bathroom carrying a medicine bottle. She hands something to Lane. This girl gave him a damn pacifier. He puts it in his mouth then he takes it out looking at it.

"You giving him a pacifier?" I ask.

"He wanted to take his medicine like Caden. His ass wasted it all over the floor." Cammie snaps.

Lane a fucking spoiled ass little boy. I swear.

"That ain't gonna be my child. Imma show you how to raise a man."

"Bitch." Trey says then looks at Lane. Lane stares at him sucking on the pacifier. "You can't even stand to hear someone else child cry. It's a boy?"

"I'm saying it is." I shrug. "She doesn't want to know. She doesn't believe that we should know before the baby is born."

Trey narrows his eyes. "You have a girl it's over."

"You know it's different having Lonnie and GeeGee around as adults. Seems like shit changed. But ain't shit change but me." I say.

"Yeah."

Lane screams. Trey hands the pacifier to Cammie. "Stop."

"That mine!"

"Stop boy." Trey says sternly. Lane just lies there quiet. "Cammie talked with her mother about everything that happened in college. Peacefully. It's a lot of shit we got to get through as a family."

I chuckle. He being fucking modest. Bitch ass really saying he fucking told me so. Fucking prat. Throwing it in my face how he made that happen like he said he was. Then again the nigga didn't say that so I can't fucking say any of that shit. I nod my head at him. He smirks. See this bitch. Lane moves on his chest then gets off the bed screaming. He walks into the bathroom crying.

"Lane?" Cammie says. He just screams. "Okay, okay. You have to talk. I don't know what you want me to do. Tell me."

"I want Daddy."

Trey chuckles. "I'm so ready to be right. Again."

"Bitch." I say walking out.

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novalucitor-blog · 5 years

Text

A Change of Fate Ch.5

Read through chapter 13 now on AO3

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Star Butterfly, princess of the Kingdom of the Moon. Marco, her best friend and right-hand knight. Tom, prince of the Kingdom of Fire and Star’s fiance. Star would do anything to get out of a marriage that will form an alliance between the two kingdoms but she can’t change her fate without also changing the fate of those around her.

Chapter five

Marco wasn’t really surprised that Toms’ castle was huge and dark from the outside. But he was surprised by how green everything was. When you hear “Kingdom of Fire” you tend to picture embers and flames everywhere and very, very, hot weather. Instead, the foliage was bright and colorful, and the breeze was pleasant. It really wasn’t all that different from the Kingdom of the Moon.

Marco accepted Tom’s offered hand, as much as he hated it, to help him get out of the coach. His legs were pretty numb after the long ride and he still wasn’t used to the heels. His body ached, and he resisted the urge to stretch and crack every tense muscle because that was probably something princesses didn’t do in public. Instead, he stealthily turned his upper body both ways as if he was looking at the scenery, not enjoying that loud pop that just went down his spine.

He followed Tom toward the front door where a lone if servants were waiting. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Surely, he had set up some display of his wealth for Star to admire when she got there. It was wasted on Marco. It would have been wasted on Star too. She didn’t care about that kind of thing.

The entry way was big and brightly lit with chandeliers. Flares had been carved into the trim around every wall and he couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship. It was pretty cool, but he couldn’t tell Tom that. Not as Star anyway.

The servants all bowed, and it made Marco feel weird. Did Star always feel this weird when people bowed to her? He didn’t know what he should do or say, but thankfully they quickly stopped and a small girl in a maid’s uniform stepped forward.

“Milady, my name is Genevieve. I will be taking care of your every need during your time here.” She said, bowing again.

“Oh…um…thank you.” Marco said, unsure if that as the right response for a princess.

Before he could worry about it any long, Tom ushered him forward. The tour began, and Marco debated kicking off the heels as they walked down the first impossibly long corridor. Tom showed him the library, the barracks, the sitting room, the dining hall, the kitchen, his office, the courtyard and finally, after what felt like an agonizing three hours of walking around in heels and listening to Tom talk about what he loved about each and every inch of the castle, to Star’s room.

“This is where you’ll be staying for the first few weeks until the wedding.” Tom said, opening the door for him.

Marco stepped in and immediately realized the implication. After the wedding they were expected to share a room and a bed. Marco would do a lot of Star, but he would not have sex with her husband for her. As tired as he was, and as much as that bed was calling his name, he knew that he couldn’t rest yet. As soon as he was left alone he needed to start figuring out a way to get back home.

Marco faked a yawn. “Your castle is very…beautiful, but that tour left me quite exhausted. I think I’m in need of a nap.”

Before Tom could say anything, Marco closed the door with a slam. He took a moment to sigh and enjoy the quiet before looking around. The room wasn’t all that bad. The walls were white, and a white canopy bed sat in the middle with the headboard against the wall. Gold designs had seemingly been painted on the wooden columns but when Marco got a closer look, he could see it was actual gold imbedded in the wood. The bedding was yellow, Star’s favorite color. Marco sat on the edge of the bed and could have cried it was so soft.

He’d only been in Star’s room once and that was just that morning when he was confused and didn’t have a chance to asses the quality of her bedspread. His own bedding was warm but scratchy. He’d never laid down on something so soft. It called to him as he fought the urge to sink into the mattress for. It was a losing battle as within minutes, he was fast asleep still in the blue gown.

----

The following morning, practice didn’t go much better for Star. Of course, this time she was distracted. Her conversation with Glossaryck hadn’t gone the way she planned. She was hoping to find a solution quickly and have Marco back in his rightful place by the end of the week. Now, it all seemed hopeless.

“What do you mean there’s no spell?” Star had asked the day before.

“I mean just what I said.”

“So, how do I get back to normal?”

“That’s up to you.”

“What does that mean?” Star was getting frustrated at the man who seemed to speak in riddles.

“You wished to be a knight like your friend. You have to unwish your wish.”

“Ok, then I wish to be Princess Star Butterfly again.”

Nothing happened.

“It’s not going to be that easy.” He closed his eyes and began to meditate, annoying Star even further.

“But I wished it!”

“Saying the words and truly wanting it are two different things.”

“I do want it! I want Marco to have his body back!”

“That may be true, but you do not want your own. You still do not wish to be queen or to marry the prince. Only when you truly want your old life back, will you be able to wish for it.”

Star dropped her arm to her side, the end of her sword thumping to the ground. She’d tried for years to make herself want that life and it never worked. What could she possibly do now to make her want to be herself again? Hard work, adventure, this is what she wanted. She looked down at the callouses on Marco’s hands and longed for her own hands to look this way. A life worth living, that’s all she wanted.

“Slacking off cause he’d the captain’s son.” One of the nearby knights whispered to another.

Star looked in their direction and they both laughed. Star rolled her eyes. She’d heard stories from Marco of all the things they said about him. She knew they were all jealous of his talent and good fortune. If only they knew it was really Star they were looking at now.

“He’s so weak, he can barely even lift the practice sword” The same knight whispered.

Something is Star began to boil. Her frustration with the spell, her anger at herself for damning Marco, her life that she had to find a way to want. All of it was beginning to rise up within her. Violent bubbles spilling over the edges.

“Is there something you’d like to sty to me?” Star asked.

One thing Marco had that Star did not was self-control.

“Oh no, we wouldn’t want your father disciplining us because we hurt your feelings.” They laughed.

Star looked to the knight captain, he was on the other side of the field with his back turned to them as he watched a spare between two knights.

“He’s busy right now. So, go ahead, tell me what you think of me.”

The two looked at each other. It was the kind of look that said they had been preparing for this day. The day when they could unload all their insecurities onto Marco and make it seem like it was his fault. It was an ugly thing to do and something Star had seen so many times before. It made her stomach sick to think this was happening to her best friend. She was glad it was her in his place.

“With your little girlfriend gone, you don’t have anyone to cry to anymore. What will you do when we’ve upset you?” One asked, making a face to appear as if he was crying in mocking way.

“That’s the best you’ve got?” Star scoffed.

“You think you’re so much better than use because your dad is the captain and your best friend is the princess. We can’t wait to be rid of you.”

“Is that right? So, I guess the bruises, scares and callouses are just the marks of my pampered life.”

“You don’t work as hard as any of us! WE all know you got the day off yesterday just because the princess left!”

“I work harder than any of you! Do you know how many nights he…I stayed up practicing until I was passing out from exhaustion?! How many of you can stay you’ve done the same?” Hearing the hatred these people had for her best friend first hand was too much. She thought she could handle it. Absorb it for him, fight his battles.

“Is that what you call spending the night crying in your daddy’s lap?”

The smug smile on his face, the way he looked at Marco like he was a smudge of dirt on his armor, the hate he spewed. All of it caused Star to snap. She threw her practice sword to the ground and lunged forward toward the one speaking. He seemed taken off guard. What Star didn’t know was Marco’s dad’s stance on fighting. If it wasn’t with a sword, it would get you suspended from the guard.

Even if she had known, there was a good chance she would still have done it. Landing on top of him knocked the wind out of the man’s lungs and he gasped for breath as Star hit him with a right hook. She was going for a second punched when strong hands grabbed her around the arms and lifted her into the air as if she weighed nothing. The next thing she knew, she was being dropped on her butt a few feet away.

Marco’s dad stood over her with fire burning in his eyes. He may have had a soft spot for his son, but she had crossed the line. Another thing added to the list to apologize to Marco for.

“Get up.” He said, his voice gruff and angry.

Star rose to her feet, dusting dirt and grass from her backside. She felt small, even with Marco’s height, under his stare. She prepared herself for the worst.

“What are you?” He asked.

“Sir?” Star asked in a respectful question.

“What ARE YOU?” He asked again, his voice growing louder.

“A…a knight?”

“On whose guard?”

“Yours, sir.”

“What don’t I tolerate on this guard?”

“Fighting.” It was a guess but likely correct.

“Precisely. You are suspended. You may return as a knight in my guard when you can act like a man worthy of protecting this kingdom.”

He turned his back on her, telling her she was dismissed. She looked over her shoulder as she retreated to assess that damage she’d done. She was glad when she saw the blood dripping from his nose as the other helped him to his feet. Star might have a lot to apologize for but wait until she could tell Marco about beating up one of his “admirers”.

#svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #tomco #fanfic

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my-muses-in-op · 5 years

Note

🎂 @askyuivalanaki (they will always celebrate her birthday)

@askyuivalanaki and @pops-and-kids

Casey was woken when the door to her bedroom was opened a little harder than she was used to. Blinking, she sat up, only to get pushed back into the mattress bby an eager freckled woman. Val gave her a big hug and wished her a happy birthday. First her sleepy brain didn’t catch up. Happy birthday? Then she realized. it was her birthday indeed. That meant it was Blenheim’s birthdaay too and she had to bring him his gift. After she was allowed to leave her room.

“Thank you, Val.” She chuckled and hugged the other back. Val let go and Casey sat back up, smiling to Yui, who gently sat on the bed and gave her a hug and wished her ahappy birthday too. Anaki came to her too, placed his forepaws on the bed, lifted himself up and nuzzled his face against Casey’s, also wishing her a happy birthday.

“Thanks, Yui, Anaki.” The young fox smiled brightly, before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “I better get ready for breakfast.Thatch is surely waiting with a special treat for me.” He always did that on her birthday. Normally, only the commanders were celebrated on their birthdays, but somehow -Casey wasn’t sure why - the entire crew had decided that she should be celebrated on her birthday too, alongside with Blenheim. She didn’t really complain much, as she had accepted that there was no way around getting celebrated. Not when they knew her birthday.

Val grinned brightly and was already at Casey’s drawer, while Yui placed a gift on Casey’s lap. “It’s from Izo and Val.” She said with a chuckle, watching her sister rummage unceremoniously through the drawers and wardrobe of Casey - the young fox not bother by it, as she was used to Val or Izo going through her clothes and accessories.

Shrugging, she opened the gift and found an ocean blue shirt in it, with a red ribbon on the sleeves. There was also a red skirt with a blue ribbon around the waist and edge. First she didn’t notice it, but the ribons had golden stitches in it and as she looked closer, she saw they formed words. Whitebeard Pirates and Straw Hat Pirates was written on it, showing where her heart belonged.

“Oh Val. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Tears were in her eyes, as she gotup and hugged Val, just as said woman had found what she was looking for. “You’re welcome. Now go get washed and freshened up a little. You’re going to wear that and I’ll style you up.” Val shooed Casey into the bathroom.

Yui chuckled and made Casey’s messy bed, just to do something, as Val found the rest she needed to make Casey look like the birthday girl she was. It didn’t take long before Casey was back - she wasn’t much for long showers. Quickly she put on her new shirt and skirt and twirled around once, before transforming so two of her tails were out and her fox ears.

Val urged her to sit and soon she had styled Casey’s hair, a long braid - she had braided a red ribbon in it - with a blue bow to hold it together. She ad also found a necklace Marco and Thatch had giving her the year before and a bracelet Ace gave her at Christmas last year.

“Perfect. Now for the shoes…” Val trailed off. Yui let out another chuckle. “I think that was my clue.” She rose from the now made bed and handed a box to Casey. “From me and Marco.” Yui said, a small blush dusting her cheek, making Val chuckle and Casey smile. Inside the box where a pair of black sandles, plain and with no heels, just as Casey liked it. “Aww thank you.” She hugged Yui and put on the shoes.

Both woman smiled, seeing how good the fox looked in her gifts. Aniki nuzzled the hand of Casey to get her attention. “My gift is together with Thatch’s.” He said, as to tellher he hadn’t forgotten to get somethign for her. “Thank you, Anaki. Let’s get breakfast.” She smiled, before getting a arge wooden box from her drawer.

With a big grin on her lips, she followed Yui, Val and Anaki to the galley. As expected, Blenheim was standing outside, waiting for her. While the other three went inside first to tellthe others that the birthday ‘kids’ were waiting, Casey handed Blenheim the wooden box. “Happy birthday, big bro. Enjoy this.” It was to finest and biggest sake bottle she had bought the last time they were on an island.

“Thank you, foxy sis. Here, for you.” He gave her a package and she opened it right away, not wanting to wait. A joyful screech left her lips, before she jumped onto his shoulder and hugged him. “Thank you.” He’d giving her a picture of her and Ace taking a nap with Stefan. She knew that the crew had various of pictures of her, but she had only a few, not really bothering to ask for more. That made it easier for them to frame the best pictures and give it to her for Christmas and birthday.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s not let them wait too long.” He smiled and walked into the mess hall, with her on his shoulder. As soon as they entered, their ears were blasted with the loudest and un-organized HAPPY BIRTHDAY cheer. Casey had changed her ears back to normal, to not hurt her ears by the loud cheer.

Still smiling, the two let everyone wish them a good day, until Thatch yelled that they better eat or he would kick asses. Laughing, Casey went to sit with Yui and Val - after having thanked Marco and Izo properly for the gifts. Thatch placed a special breakfast in front of her, just as Ace sat across her. “Happy b-day sis. Enjoying it?” He smirked, knowing her too well. “You know there’s no way around it and they do make it enjoyable. Just see my breakfast.” She chuckled with glee.

Thatch had made her breakfast muffins, eggs, bacon, smoked sausage, red bell peper, toast and barbequed chicken slices. Ace looked a little jealous, but a look at Thatch and the others told him to not try and steal anything from her plate. “True they do make it bearable.” He nodded thoughtfully, only to earn an elbow in the side from Thatch, while the cook called him a buzzkill.

“Oh sis, here. From Anaki and me.” Thatch reached a small box to her. Eagerly she opened and gasped. “Lovely. Thanks.” She smiled brightly, eyes shimmering with pure happiness. The two had giving her a pair of click-on earrings with the symbol of Whitebeard. A custom made gift indeed. “You’re welcome, sis. Now eat. Or now cake for you later.” He half-hearted threatened her.

He didn’t have to tell her twice, as she dove into her breakfast. Time flew by, as she was enjoying the morning with her family. It was first later she was left a little alone time or so she thought. “Hey sis. Happy birthday. Here.” Ace handed her a book size package. “i didn’t want anyone around when you open it. It’s not only from me, but from three other people too. You can see from whom inside.”

Unlike with the other presents, she gently and slowly opened this one. Inside was a note book and as she opened it, she couldn’t hold back her tears. On the first page was a picture of four children - each with their own pirate outift. Ace, Sabo, Luffy and her. Under the picture was a note. The four of you are precious and I will always remember you. I look forward to hear about your journey - Makino.

“Oh Ace. It’s perfect.” She cried, as she flipped thorugh it, seeing more pictures from her childhood and not only the one she shared with Ace, but also only with Luffy and later at the base of the Revolutionaries. Makino and Sabo had provided Ace with pictures. “Lu made this one before I set sail, telling me to hand it to you. I didn’t forget, but I wanted it to be special when doing so.” Ace said softly, as he pointed at a really, really badly drawn picture of what probably should be their old tree house.

She chuckled and then hugged Ace. “Thank you. It’s the best gift ever.” Sure, everyone had giving her great gifts, but this one had more meaning to her. So many memories were in this book and she was so happy that now she could always look at them, when time was hard on her.

“You’re welcome. Come, let’s get back to the party. I’m sure half of them are drunk already and that’s always fun.” Ace grinned, dragging Casey back. Laughing she followed him, holding the notebook closely. This surely was a wonderful birthday and maybe she could get used to be celebrated and even thinking it was okay for her to be free.

#askyuivalanaki #pops-and-kids #the life of an ice fox (casey)#casey's birthday #which was august 6th #i just didn't have time yesterday #long drabble #my fanfic

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ruthsheart · 6 years

Text

comfort

While Marco is flying the wolf pack to Scotland, @ava-x-park stays with Ruth to comfort her hysterical best friend. To her surprise, she learns that being a good friend isn’t always gossip, shopping, and compliments.

tw: blood

Ruth: Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. Marco hadn’t picked up his cell all day. Last night he’d flown off like some geeky superhero in a trench coat, pack of wolves floating around him like little deadly clouds. He’d simply flown off, alone, and left her, alone, and not once had he picked up his cell in twelve restless hours of calling and sobbing into her pillow and smashing whatever she could smash in her anxious rage. The least he could do is send her a text. Hey Ruth, I’m in Edinburgh, be home soon, in his typical careless, no-big-deal way of saying things that mattered. No. Idiot had gone off to be the hero and get his throat torn out as he starved himself of sleep and food, all alone, in boring ol’ Scotland of all places. Selfish jerk would get eaten by wolves and the only thing she’d know for sure was that he never picked up the phone ever again. In the meantime, Ruth had thrown enough fits to exhaust herself and trashed enough of her flat that she couldn’t properly sit or lie down anywhere except the floor. So on the floor she planted herself, pretending to nap between ragged sobs and panicked, ferocious text messaging.

Ava: As Ruth's self-proclaimed best friend, it was Ava's duty to comfort and soothe poor Ruth in her brother's absence - to be a pillar of strength and consolation during Ruth's time of deep distress and loss. To bring a sense of calm and clarity into the midst of the chaos of Ruth's desperate situation.

However, Ava being Ava and Ruth being Ruth, it was never going to be quite that simple.

The little silver spoon sang against the glass cup as Ava prepared some sweet chamomile tea. Stevia, of course, no sugar. Sugar was for breakups and when people died, and as far as Ava knew - despite Ruth's fears for the contrary - no one was dead just yet. There was no sense in adding to the dramatics by giving the poor girl sugar.

"Here you go, darling," she said in a soft, sing-song voice, as she padded back to Ruth. "Usually when mummy feels stressed she has a tramadol and takes herself to bed, but I don't have any tramadol." She took a seat on the floor opposite Ruth and offered out the cup. "So I made some tea. Apparently it's soothing. If it doesn't help, we can move on to wine, I'm sure I saw some Chardonnay in your drinks cabinet."

Ruth: She sniffled miserably as she poked a few more words into a text message. Please don't leave me here alone. I can't do this without you. Send. As Ava's nimble feet moved with an almost inaudible patter across the wooden floor and over the throw rug, Ruth weakly pushed herself up to sitting. Her hair hung limp and tangled over her face. Her wrinkled white blouse was smeared with blood and her jeans had dark mud-stains across the shins. She hadn't changed or showered or eaten in almost 24 hours. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Marco was the only person who mattered and he was gone.

"Thank you." She muttered as her hands wrapped around the little cup, her voice low and rough from crying. She didn't want tea, but she was raised to be polite whether she wanted it or not. Instead, she held the heat close to her chest. It was something warm in this cold, dreadful world. "I don't want to sleep. I don't want anything." Everything was wrong, from Ava's adorable little socks to the spinning ceiling fan above their heads. The world was wrong without Marco in it. "Why won't he answer me, Ava?" She already knew the answers. He's focusing on telekinetically flying himself and a pack of wolves. He's too high up for proper cell service, which was spotty over the wild parts of Great Britain to begin with. He didn't want to get distracted and mess up. He'd dropped or forgotten his phone somewhere. He fell, or he was attacked, or he was dead. "Why is he such a selfish jerk?" Her throat squeezed tight and her ragged voice turned to a squeak as she gripped the tea cup tight and sniffled back aching tears.

Ava: "Well, that's what the tramadol was supposed to be for," Ava explained with pronounced patience. She tucked her long legs neatly under herself and rested her now-empty hands in her lap. "At least get changed. A nice, hot shower and some fresh pyjamas. You'll feel a hundred times better, trust me."

At Ruth's questioning, she gave a exaggerated, sympathetic sigh. "Because he's a man," she explained. "And they're all the same. Brothers, boyfriends, dads... they all go to the same school of self-absorbedness and awful communication. It's just what they do, and we love them anyway for some reason. I'm sure Marco will be in touch with you again just as soon as he's finished dealing with those ghastly flea bags. He's probably off scrubbing himself with a wire brush as we speak and he'll be home before you know it." She folded her arms, forgetting herself for a moment and frowning deeply. If her mother were here, she would scold Ava about wrinkles.

"I still don't really understand what that boss wolf was even doing. Like, what on earth was he planning to do with Faye's body? Go to uni and drink at the weekends? Use his new thumbs to finally surf the net on an iPhone? What was the master plan, exactly?"

Ruth: Ruth’s eyes lifted from the little glass cup hugged in her hands to give Ava a deadpan, exhausted stare. She was too tired to argue. Last night, she might have thrown a fit if someone told her what to do, she might have screamed and tossed her mug of tea across the room. She didn’t have the energy to fight like that, not after a long, sleepless night of crying into her throw rug. Now she could only stare with sore, watery eyes, as if silently begging Ava not to force her up from the rug where she will decidedly lay until she dies.

Ruth sipped at her tea, then frowned at the boring herbal taste, like water and leaves. On second thought, that was all tea was, water and leaves. She set the cup aside and drew her knees up to her chest. Her focus faded in and out while Ava chattered on about fleas and scrubbing... Blood and dirt-stained fingers picked unconsciously at the mud on her jeans. Her mouth answered before her mind had even caught up. “He wanted power.” She blinked at the distant invisible place she’d been staring at for minutes before turning to look at Ava. “He was nothing more than an animal before Faye, just a wild dog, but inside Faye, he had power. He could communicate, he could manipulate, he could walk among us and nobody would throw him in a kennel and move him to the zoo. He was angry, and he wanted the power to do something about it.” She thought back to the night in the woods, dancing and feeling each other’s bodies under the full moon. She’d been asking herself the same question for days��what had Ulfric wanted out of that night? Was it really him in control, or had Faye shone through for one evening? Ruth hugged her knees tighter. “He wanted to hurt people. That’s reason enough to destroy him.”

Ava: "Well, he got one thing right, I suppose," Ava mused with a non-committal shrug. "People tend to underestimate the gift of the gab, but if you've got it, you've got an awful lot of people under your thumb. I guess he could talk to us and move around our world and still talk to all of his gross little friends." It was the best of both, really.

Oh-so-casually, she took her phone out of her pocket and brought up Marco's number. There were exactly two WhatsApp messages to him saved in her history: one from like a million years ago asking why his sister wasn't answering her phone, and one from last spring asking him when his birthday was, because she had been tipsy on champagne cocktails with Ruth and thought she was being dreadfully witty. Neither message had elicited a response from Marco, though the two blue ticks confirmed that he'd read them. She keyed in another message.

would u hurry up?? ruth planning ur funeral xx

Still smiling sweetly for Ruth, she put her iPhone away again.

"Anyway, like I said. Men. Even men who are wolves, or dogs, or whatever. Selfish."

Ruth: Ruth sighed, a long dramatic rush of exhaustion. Normally, she'd agree with Ava. They'd laugh about how terribly irritating men were--selfish, rude, ignorant... Ruth couldn't count how many times she'd told Ava stories of how Marco was impossibly frustrating and unkind to her, but for every tale of woe, there were two more stories of his generosity and love. Things had never been easy for them, father always had his expectations of them, but they held strong because they had each other. Without Marco, she would be utterly alone for the first time in her life. He had to come back. She needed him back in her arms, because if he didn't come back, she wouldn't know how to live without her other half.

A silence fell between them, exhausted and painfully aware of itself. Again, Ruth found herself staring at Ava with a blank, lifeless expression of disappointment. Everything was wrong. Words came out wrong, the carpet under her bum sat wrong, Ava's watery tea was wrong, Ruth's aching violated skin was wrong, the air felt wrong. Ava's presence only sharpened that sensation from a dull blade to a slicing edge.

Slowly, Ruth uncoiled herself and fell onto her back. She shut her eyes. For a moment she thought if she pretended to sleep again, maybe Ava would go home, leave Ruth to suffer in loneliness as loudly and as mud-caked as she wants. Then a strange thought popped into her head. Without getting up or opening her eyes, Ruth muttered. "Why are you here, Ava? What do you want?" Her hands felt heavy, as if someone rested a 20 kg weight in each palm. They sank into the fluffy rug, blood-stained fingers curling in on themselves. "I thought we weren't talking anymore."

Ava: Ava watched her friend mope with concern, a tiny crease appearing between her perfectly-maintain eyebrows. Ruth was acting like her brother was already as good as dead. None of them had died yet. They'd all come up against the wolf pack in one way or another, and they were all still alive. Even Des, and all he had to defend himself were flashy lights. Marco could literally move things with his mind. He could even fly. He was going to be fine.

Ruth's question, however, threw her slightly. "Hmm?" She tilted her head to one side and tried not to sound as miffed as she felt. "What d'you mean, why am I here? You can't be all by yourself in this state, can you?" She fell silent for a moment, the hurt worming its way into her chest as she scrambled to find something else to say.

"Of course we're talking, Ruth! What on earth are you going on about? Honestly, all this stress has made you really confused. You're my bestie, babe. Just because we've been, like, super busy all year doesn't mean you're not still my fave, yeah?" She smiled at Ruth's supine form and folded her arms across her chest. "You know, I read this thing on Instagram the other day, about how really close friends can, like, not see each other for ages and then just pick up again right where they left off. I think that's totally us, don't you?"

Ruth: Eyes shut and body laid out like a skinned animal rug, Ruth tried not to sigh too loudly at Ava’s trite response. Tried, and failed. There were nine other people who could have come to comfort her, but Ava was the one who’d come. Ava, who’d been avoiding her for months. She had an angle, a motive, something. She wouldn’t just show up now to play nurse to someone she didn’t want to see without a reason. The idea that Ava was only here to watch her settled bitterly in her chest. Just another watcher, another person she thought she knew, wasting their time making sure she doesn’t do anything reckless. Slowly, Ruth explained with only a little venom. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m a grown woman. I can eat, and sleep, and poop when I want to. That’s not why you’re here.” Again, she asked. ”What do you want?”

The reply was not what she’d been expecting. Ava, as she always did with her perfect knack for being perfect, smiled and brushed away Ruth’s concerns as easy as swiping left. Ruth’s eyes eased open to stare at the whirling ceiling fan. Confused? God, she really was confused. The world felt like it was crashing down on her head and nobody else could even feel it at all. Was she really losing it this time?

Her face scrunched up as a hiccup of a sob escaped, hot tears spilling free once again. “I’m s-sorry, Ava. I don’t know what I w-was thinking. Of course we’re still besties. Besties forever.” She swiped her hands across her cheeks to brush her fat, heavy tears away. Her fingers left brown smudges across her face. She gasped another quivering breath and squeaked as she stifled another sob. “I thought... I had my accident, and then you s-stopped messaging me, and I... I thought I scared you away. I thought you didn’t like me anymore.” She buried her crumpled, crying face in her hands, too embarrassed to share her gross snotty tears with Ava. “I love you, b-ballerina babe. Please don’t hate me for what I said.”

Ava: Honestly, Ruth's super-suspicious line of questioning was confusing - not to mention the rudest. Here was Ava, making tea and offering a listening ear like the amazing friend that she was, and all Ruth could do was shout at her and like some snappy... snap... McSnappington.

"Well, my darling. You're very upset right now, so I'm going to let that..."

She trailed off when Ruth suddenly dissolved into a puddle of tears and heartfelt apologies, and her own heart softened, kneaded with a strangely upsetting combination of genuine sympathy and gnawing guilt. "Oh, sweetie..." she said quietly, shuffling across the floor to draw alongside Ruth before lying on the floor next to her. "I was scared. Super scared. I wake up one morning to like, fifty billion WhatsApps all telling me to ring back, it's an emergency, you've tried to..." She paused, hesitating and blinking back tears. "That you've tried to... to hurt yourself. And then some of the others are saying it was to do with this... this stupid magic nonsense."

She fought to get a grip on herself before she started crying too. It wouldn't do to cry. This wasn't a big deal. They were best friends, just like they always had been. Nothing had changed.

"T-totally spooked, babe," she went on, with a nonchalance she's perfected over countless years. "And it was so not cute of me to ghost you like that. Completely selfish. I am so, so sorry for being such a hideous flake." She rolled on to her side to face her friend her head resting on her arm. "I love you too, gorgeous. It's you and me, yeah?" She reached out a perfectly-manicured hand and brushed away a tear. "Best friends."

Ruth: Buried in her hands, Ruth tried to swallow down the tide of tears that kept rising up, stinging at her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. She heard Ava move, her motions graceful, quiet, gentle. Everywhere she went was a dance, an expression of her perfect lithe shape. Someone like Des or Imogen would have plopped down beside her like a great sack of potatoes, announcing their arrival with fanfare and perhaps a little endearing clumsiness. But Ava, she moved with elegance, like a flower opening to the morning sun. In many ways, her best friend was like her twin brother, a rather inevitable turn of events considering how close she and Marco were. Just like him, Ava was almost always perfect. She was always smiling, always controlled, determined and practiced, talented and beautiful. Just like Marco, Ava was gifted. Her beauty inspired Ruth, and it tormented her. She could never be that graceful, that naturally smooth and gentle. Wiping her face roughly with long fingers, Ruth sniffled back the soggy tears and blinked at her effortlessly gorgeous friend.

"It was so, so scary." She nodded in mopey, pathetic agreement. "I thought I could make it disappear, get these horrible images out of my head, if I threw it all away and left this awful place, but without the paint..." Without the paint, there were so many other ways to pour her soul out onto the canvas. Her wrists itched painfully where the scars knotted her fair skin. "I wanted to d-do everything on my own, to prove I was s-strong and smart enough to control it, that there was nothing wrong with me. I..." Her throat tightened, but she pushed onward in a small, whimpering voice. "You're right. I can't be alone. I'm not strong enough."

Slowly, Ruth shuffled closer, reaching out to rest a soft arm around Ava's petite waist. "Best friends. No matter what. Even when... when... I'm not..." Even when I'm not pretty, or strong, or smart, or funny. Even when I'm falling apart. Please, please love me. Tell me I'm enough. She wriggled in closer, trying to hide her messy face against Ava's chest.

Ava: Ava shook her head. This was so typical Ruth. So independent and stubborn. So hell-bent on doing everything herself, even when it was a disaster waiting to happen. Still, she couldn't blame her. Their powers scared Ava, too. Ava, as much as she avoided this truth, had been frightened into inaction. Ruth had had the guts to attempt an escape.

"Oh, darling," she sighed. "Your painting is in you, like my dancing is in me. You can bin your paints all you like but I'm afraid there's no running away from how devastatingly talented you are!" She allowed herself to smile again. "Maybe this magic thingy is the same. It just sort of is."

She hugged Ruth close to her, not sure what to say. Her usual go-tos when comforting her friends were to tell them they were just so pretty, that they didn't need so-and-so in their lives anyway, or that they should go clubbing or shopping. Somehow, in the face of Ruth's raw pain, with her friend's thick, tangled hair between her fingers, none of her pre-programmed responses seemed adequate. That quiet, growing panic that had become increasingly familiar to her since beginning her studies at Durham made it's presence known once again, and she fought to contain it.

"Even when you're not quite up to yourself, yes. Of course. What are friends for, after all? Darling, you've been so brave. But the wolf thing is gone now. Marco will be back in no time, all fussing about being hungry and having dog hair on his jacket. Faye will be up and about in no time and we can all get back to normal. That's all we want, really, isn't It?"

Ruth: “Devastatingly talented? That’s your choice of words?” Ruth wanted to slap Ava’s cheeky mouth, so she did, gently. Rolling onto her side, she lifted a hand to pat Ava on the cheek, leaving a muddy smudge in her wake. A smile threatened to pull at her lips as she noticed the dirty handprint on Ava’s flawless cheek, a little bit of artful juxtaposition. At least she’d left her mark somewhere in the world before the end of it all. “Devastatingly something, I wouldn’t say talented, maybe foolish.” Rolling again onto her back, she blinked her aching eyes at the whirling ceiling fan. Her smile faded, sharpening into a little frown of contemplation. Maybe it just is. That bit of logic went against everything the authors had told them, but that could be why it sounded so appealing. Of course, anything sounded more appealing than cursed to die horribly. For some of them, they had taken to their powers like a fish takes to water. For Ruth, it felt more like her powers had taken to her. Overwhelming waves that crashed on her head before receding away into the depths of the unknown future, leaving her smeared with paint, sore and confused. All she could do to control it was keep her paints and pencils nearby for those moments when the levee broke and time came flooding in. Was that what Ava meant by “it just is”?

It was easier to ignore the gnawing fearful questions when she was pressed up against Ava, wrapped in her slender arms with the sweet floral scent of her filling Ruth’s head. Fingers brushed into the thick matted hair at the back of her head. Finally, her ragged breathing began to settle into a rhythm. Her quivering relaxed into a heavy exhaustion. Ava’s fingers curling into her hair sent waves of warm, tingly sedation through her. She snuggled against Ava’s chest, relieved to feel cool skin against her burning hot cheek. Her breath swept across Ava’s skin in quiet little hiccups. Ava’s voice was like a melody, light and dainty as birdsong. Again, the flimsy ghost of a smile floated on her lips. Marco would saunter back in complaining about hair on his jacket as if he’d only been gone minutes, rather than days. “Marco...” Her giggle was a tiny breathless wheeze. “I miss him.”

Faye, too. She missed Faye’s careful fingers, her soft lips, her watchful eyes. That Faye was gone. This new Faye wouldn’t dote on her every movement, wouldn’t drink in her every word like poetry. The wolf was dead. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Ruth nodded against Ava’s chest. “Normal,” she whispered. Her head was immensely heavy. Simply the act of breathing took all the energy she had left after her violent fit of tears. She shut her eyes. “I’m not sleeping.” She insisted in a small groggy mutter. “I’m just resting my eyes for a minute.”

Ava: Ava laughed as Ruth gently cuffed her cheek. So relieved was she to see her friend show even a glint if her usual cheerful banter that she was even willing to let the muddy smudge on her face go. Either way, she was still the cleanest person in the room. That would have to do. "Devastatingly gorgeous, then," she offered.

Ruth had become calm, and Ava shut her own eyes in the soft silence that came with the likely-brief island of tranquillity in the sea of her friend's emotions. "I know you do, babe," she replied softly. "He misses you too. That's why he's going to hurry back."

She opened one eye and glanced down at Ruth's head, profoundly unconvinced by Ruth's claim. "Darling, if I blew on you right now you'd be off. Why don't you go to bed? I can wait here and wake you up if Marco comes back, yeah?"

Ruth: “God, I hope he hurries back.” Ruth grumbled sleepily into Ava’s chest. “I can’t live like this. I can’t keep living like this. Always on edge... waiting for the next attack... the next bout of bad news...” Her voice hummed low as she babbled her drowsy worries. “Every time I think I can trust someone, they hurt me or they leave me, everyone but Marco... but he’s run off, too.” Weakly rubbing her watery eyes, she sighed. “For once, I just want to feel safe, like there isn’t someone waiting to jump at me from the shadows.” She sniffled miserably. “The stress is killing my complexion.” Some mornings she didn’t even recognize herself in the mirror.

Sleep. She was so unbelievably tired. If Marco would just come marching victoriously through her door, she would finally be able to let everything go and let sleep take her. Until then, her thoughts stuttered between sluggish disappointment and frantic bursts of fear and anger. “Noooo...” She moaned quietly, squeezing a little tighter at Ava’s waist as if to hold herself there on the floor with her. “What if he calls?” Her voice began to tighten and turn high-pitched with panic. “What if he doesn’t come here first? What if he shows up on the news? I don’t want to miss anything!” Her breath faltered. Her voice wavered into a plea, rather than a demand. “I can’t sleep. Marco might need me at any moment. I have to... I have to stay... awake.” Again, she hid her face in Ava’s chest, shielding her friend from seeing how her eyes could barely keep open, despite her worried protests.

Ava: Ava sighed deeply. "It's not fair, is it, darling?" She replied. "Do you ever think maybe life would have worked out so much easier if we just... hadn't all gone down to the beach that first night? I mean... " she smiled, abashed. "I only went out that night because I was meant to meet some boy from History of Art - you remember the fit one with the ponytail that dropped out last May?" Her smile faded at the memory, her free hand moving unconsciously to rub at the muddy streak on her face. "Anyway, I stood him up. Got to the bar and just, like, kept walking. And the beach looked so lovely that I wanted to take a picture and put it on my Instagram." She glanced sideways at Ruth and raised her eyebrows. "Should have just gone on the stupid date, shouldn't I?"

She'd gone off on a bit of a tangent, but she didn't really mind. Ruth probably didn't care too much either. The poor girl was almost out cold.

Ah, skin. Something Ava could actually help with. "Perfect, then. We'll do facials at my apartment once all of this is finished... just... just as soon as you aren't muddy anymore." The carpet in her bedroom was cream, after all.

Ruth's sudden protests caused her to sit up. "Ruth. Darling. Marco is going to be such a pain if he finds I didn't look after you properly," she said. "He'll know, too. No amount of eye cream is going to fix this, babe."

Ruth: Ruth remembered the boy with the ponytail. He’d been smart, but lazy, uncommitted. Ruth had several classes with him in her first year. She had glared at him from across the room every time she noticed his nose buried in his phone in the middle of lecture. Maybe all that glaring had injected him with some terrible illness, or maybe he’d finally decided he was too smart for school, either way he’d dropped out suddenly and Ruth had never seen him again. Ava’s chest slid out beneath her cheek as the girl moved to glance at her. Ruth blinked the tears from her eyes and raised her head to meet Ava’s dark, sweet eyes. A slight smile tugged at Ruth’s lips. Ava was so naturally lovely, even smudged with dirt and shadowed with somber emotions. Ruth imagined painting that soft, radiant face, smoothing delicate pinkish porcelain-colored paint onto the canvas with her sharp painting knife to get the clean, flawless reflection of her beauty. “He was pretty, but that guy had no dedication to anything. It’s good you stood up that cheeseball. He’s no good for you.” Even exhausted and upset, Ruth knew without a shadow of a doubt that Ava would have abhorred dating that loser. It was obvious.

“We were star-gazing,” Ruth began in a dreamy, far-away mutter. “Marco and I, we were already at the beach together, looking at the stars. We do that in the summertime when school gets out, just lay back and talk about cabbages and kings while the night turns all around us for hours and hours and hours...”

Every time she thought she had gotten the tears under control, they began to creep back up again. Her eyes welled up with wetness at the simple suggestion that they do facials together, something they used to do regularly before her accident had driven an awkward wedge between them. For perhaps the first time in twenty-four hours, Ruth paused to look down at herself. Her clothes were caked and smeared with dried sticky muck. The dried blood on her hand was falling off in ragged little chips. Her hair hung in thick, matted tangles, rather than her usual luscious waves.

When had she become such a horrible mess? How had she let it get so bad? With Ava here, no less—perfect, gorgeous, well-composed Ava, who never looked less than completely stunning.

Mortified, she hid her face in her hands, wishing she had Cleo’s gift to disappear. “Ohmygod, I’ve lost it. I’ve really lost it. I’m on the floor in day-old clothes with dirty hair and blood and... and Marco’s going to have a cow. Oh god, what do I do? I’m such a mess. No wonder everyone thinks I’m totally mental.”

Ava: Ava smirked. "Yeah, definitely. He probably thought he was God's gift to women, too. The way he used to peek around sometimes in lectures to see if anyone was looking at him. I mean, he was hot and everything, but I'm actually fairly sure that he was so in love with himself that going out with anybody else would have counted as cheating."

As Ruth's eyes began to well up with tears again, Ava lay back down next to her again. "Yeah, and it's like, June now. You'll be doing it again this time next week, I promise. Just lazing about chatting about.... about cabbages in the sky and all those lovely things." Probably twinspeak. She didn't ask.

"You have a little bit, darling," Ava admitted with a twinkly laugh. "It's so not like you but let's face it, you're still hotter than the majority of people on their good days. What you do, is get a shower and have a nap. I don't care which one you do first - although I'm sure you'd be far more comfortable with all this dried muck off you." She got to her feet and put her hands on her hips. "Right. Chop chop. You decide what you're doing first and I'm going to get you a towel and some nice clean pajamas."

Ruth: Ruth sniffled and gasped, trying to suck back the tears, collect them inside herself where no one else could see them. It only made her sounds more miserable as she struggled to breathe. Ava's closeness beside her was a troubling comfort. Rub her face and sniffle all she wanted, she couldn't hide her pathetic sobbing enough for Ava not to notice. Ruth had tried so hard for so long to be strong, to be independent, but her best friend's closeness and understanding left Ruth's exhausted strength feeling as flimsy as a wall of dry leaves. A little shove sent her spiraling off in all directions, scattered powerlessly on the wind. She had missed Ava in her absence far more than she had thought. Being smart and strong was so agonizingly boring sometimes.

She missed facials and shopping and moaning about gross people in their classes. She missed wandering in new places and laughing at each other and staying up until the run rose. She missed riding bikes down hills and splashing paint on each other and arguing over what to eat for lunch. She missed having friends. Without Marco, her life had become lonely and loveless. But she hadn’t truly lost Ava, not like she lost Des all those years ago, only frightened her best friend. She prayed to the heavens that she wouldn’t lose Marco this time. She opened her mouth to argue that Ava couldn’t promise her that it would happen. People kept promising to her that Marco would be back, but they weren’t actually doing anything to bring him home. Hypocrites, the lot of them. Her breath wobbled out a small hiccup. While she swallowed down that wave of tears, she decided she’d argue another day, one where she wasn’t barely keeping herself together.

It’s not fair. Ruth was tired and muddy and fighting to hold back tears while Ava was glowing with laughter and kindness. Ava was effortlessly perfect. Like Marco, she never tripped and fell on her face, never lost her cool. Rory, too. Stupid air signs and their stupid flawless smiles. It’s not fair.

“Th-thanks,” she muttered into her hands. Pulling her fingers away tentatively, she looked down at her hands and grimaced. “Shower.” She nodded. “He can’t see me like this he’ll throw a fit.” She looked around her at the rug, spotted with crumbles and smears of mud, then at her filthy hands, then up at Ava. Her eyes still puffy and watery, she held out her hands for Ava to help her up off the floor. ”Ohmygod I’m so gross.” She whined once she climbed to her feet. Her skin stung as she peeled the jean jacket from her shoulders. In the hours she’d been fussing and screaming and lying there, the jacket had nearly adhered itself to her back. She winced as she dragged it over her aching muscles, then dropped in it a heap on the floor. The white blouse beneath the jacket cling to her skin in filthy patches, splattered with blood. She didn’t hesitate for a second, curling her fingers under the hem and lifting the soiled shirt over her head before throwing it to the ground. She didn’t care what happened to the shirt now. Wash it, burn it, throw it in the rubbish, it was all the same as long as she didn’t have to look at it again. Her steps were slow and unsteady as she fumbled with the button of her skinny jeans while she wandered toward her bedroom.

Ava: "Oh you know he will, darling. He'll come strutting in here and he'll be like..." She plastered an exaggerated frown on her face and deepened her voice. "Oh, Elizabeth, you look just simply frightful, what the devil have these - these nincompoops been doing with you while I was gone? If I can fly to Scotland whilst juggling a pack of wolves, one would think that they'd be able to to look after you between then. I shall have Jeeves lop their heads off!"

She was talking nonsense now. Anything to lighten the mood. Anything to coax her to do something - anything - that wasn't lying on her floor in floods of tears. Ava had no idea what to do with that. She knew how to gently tease and gossip and giggle. She was a good mate. As this conversation went on, however, she was becoming ever more sinkingly aware that she wasn't a particular skilled friend. She'd never really practiced it.

Her existential crisis was put on hold briefly as Ruth undressed right there and then, dripping with her trademark nonchalance at being stood in front of someone as she peeled her clothes off. Soft, tanned skin brushed futilely at patches of dirt and blood, her normally silky dark curls hanging in a matted, scruffy mess around her face as she bemoaned the state she was in. Even filthy and bedraggled, she was gorgeous. Ava was sure that in the same position, she herself would look like something that had crawled out of a swamp. Ruth's dark gaze and fascinating softness would shine even through anything.

She blinked as Ruth turned away and made her way out of the room, and realised that she'd been staring. Ruth probably thought she was being rude. Or worse, creepy. God, she wasn't a creep. She was just - well, tired. They were all tired. It was bound to be making them all peculiar.

Sighing, she got to her feet and picked up the dirty shirt, bundling it up in her arms and hovering for a moment, unsure of what to do. Finally, when Ruth had left the room, she tiptoed to the kitchen to find the bin to dispose of the shirt. And make some more green tea. God, she needed a cup of tea.

Ruth: Ruth winced as her first name left Ava's lips. She could hardly stand it when Marco called her by that name, as much as he was accustomed to using it for some godforsaken reason. When anyone else called her Elizabeth the feeling changed from a frustrated fondness to a sour taste that strangled her throat. Even if it was just a joke, a silly impersonation, Ruth couldn't help but wear a theatrical pouty frown. "I don't need to be looked after," she grumbled quietly. "I just need a slap over the head from time to time." Maybe a kiss on the cheek and a handful of compliments too, but she wasn't going to admit that to anyone. With a small sniffle, she attempted to fix her hair, tucking wild strands behind her ears and combing fingers through thick snarls at the back of her head. She was fine. She could take care of herself, when she wasn't swept away in the floodwaters of her anger and fear. Lifting her chin proudly, she dammed up the levee. She had appearances to keep, a reputation to uphold. Too many people were already questioning her sanity. They couldn't see her like this.

Ruth squeezed her eyes shut as she wriggled out of her tight jeans that gripped at the curves of her hips and thighs. Hopping precariously on one foot, she worked off her tiny striped socks one at a time, then peeled the trousers from her legs. It felt good to be free of the binding clothing that stifled her skin. She left a trail of stripped away clothes strewn about behind her as she meandered toward the bathroom. Her breath froze in her throat as she caught a glance at herself in the mirror, haggard and stained, with dark circles set deep under her puffy pink eyes and hair in an ugly knot at her neck. With a heavy sigh, she started the shower, waiting for the hot water to steam over the horrifying image in the mirror. In the distance, she heard the kettle bubbling to life again. Ruth plucked a cotton pad from the cabinet and doused it in makeup remover before she set to work wiping the streaks of black eyeliner and soft shimmery eyeshadow from her face.

A thought kept flitting in and out of her head as she dabbed at her face. Ava stayed. Even when Ruth looked like a walking nightmare, and wanted to scream at everything and everyone, Ava stayed. Ruth had snapped at her and told her to go, still Ava stayed. She wasn't sure what that meant, but it meant something. Staring at her pinkish, bare face with sunken dark eyes, Ruth was at a loss for reasons. Maybe there wasn't one. Ava didn't need to have a reason to be there. Without a second thought, Ruth padded back to the door to her bedroom so she could poke her head through and call to her friend. "Hey, Ava? I'm glad we're best friends." Then she slipped back to the washroom to climb into the shower.

#ava-x-park #// besties forever //#omg I love these sweet shallow babies

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bedbellyandbeyond · 6 years

Text

Sick Day

Long Post, Art At End

“We're home.” The keys jingled gently as Dante opened the door, summoning two little fluff balls yipping to the door. Yori came in after him and happily scooped up the children into his arms. Rowan and Marco quickly turned back to human form and gave him hugs. Dante chuckled. “There's our big boys. Where's Dad and Skylar?” The boys both perked up and looked back down the hall, babbling a bit. Yori put them down and let them turn back to puppies. They bounded off towards the living room.

Dante followed but Yori decided he was going to head to the bedroom. In the living room, Ruben was lying on the couch, dead asleep. The boys jumped up on top of his stomach and curled up. Dante frowned. “Rube,” he said sharply. Ruben groaned awake. “Hmm, what?” “You're supposed to be watching the kids,” Dante said. “I was… I am.” Ruben rubbed his eyes and scooped the boys up to his chest. “We were napping…” “The boys were all over the place,” Dante sighed. “Where's Skylar?” Ruben yawned. “She went down in the bedroom so she's not with the boys.” Dante rubbed his forehead. “She's not feeling any better?” Ruben shook his head. “'Fraid not…” “You'd think Yori's children couldn’t get sick… Well, they are half human… And Skylar's half ‘you' so it's not like she's getting the best,” Dante said. “Hey, immunodeficiency runs in the family…” Ruben huffed. “She's going to be fine though. It's just a cold.” Dante rubbed his nose. “Just thinking about it makes my nose itch…” “We gotta be careful not to catch it ourselves,” Ruben said. “At least there's three of us…” Dante nodded and sat himself down on Ruben's legs. “So… Yori's pregnant again.” Ruben sighed. “Oh god, my nap almost let me forget… So you took him to Vi's doctor… What was that like?” “Frustrating… But that's just because my brother was there…” Dante stated. “It was quick. Not something I'd ever have expected to see in my lifetime, but it was quick.” “So that's it? Yori's pregnant that quick?” “Technically, we're supposed to wait a week to check that it took, but Yori said it worked already so I figure he knows…” “Yori knows his own body better than anyone,” Ruben said. “He could probably read out his own genetic code…” “If he has one,” Dante said picking up Rowan and Marco before lying himself down against Ruben's chest. “We are going to need to buy a lot more cake…” Ruben wrapped his arms around him and started playing with his ear. “Did you and Vi pick out a house yet?” Dante shook his head. “Narrowed it down to a couple places… It's not easy when you need so many rooms.” “And a pool.” “Right.” “Well, we don’t really need six rooms, do we? The triplets will share a room for a while.” “I hate to say it, but they'll be teenagers at some point. They'll probably want their own space.” Ruben winced. “Ugh, why you gotta bring up teenagers? My kids will be little forever… Teenagers suck. And I know because I sucked. And you know because your brother sucked and still does.” “I sucked too…” Dante said. “Insecure, pimply, shut-in…” “At least you weren’t out in the streets, breaking into cars and smoking three packs a day,” Ruben said. “I probably shaved two decades off my life expectancy. There's no way I'll let my kids be teenagers like me.” Dante smiled and rubbed Ruben's cheek. “Don’t worry. A wise man learns from his mistakes. A wiser man learns from other’s mistakes.” Ruben rolled his eyes. “Proverbs are excuses in disguise.” Dante shrugged. “Whatever. What are you making for dinner?” Ruben lifted Dante off of him, shaking his head. “No way. It's your turn for dinner.” Dante pouted. “But I like watching you cook… It's so funny.” “I'm still healing from my burns,” Ruben stated. “I checked the calendar. It's your turn.” Dante groaned. “…Ugh, I don’t feel like cooking… Can we settle on pizza?” “Then you're paying.” “Only if you tip.” “Deal.” Dante kissed his cheek and pulled his phone out. “Medium Bruschetta and barbecue chicken?” “You know it.” “Funnel cake sticks or Brownie Bites for Yori and the kids?” “Just get both. Yori'll like the brownies, the kids can suck on the funnel sticks…” Dante placed the order, coughing a bit as he swiped away on his phone. Rowan crawled into his lap and reached for his phone, making the adult lean back and hold his phone over his head to complete the purchase without interruption. “And done. Forty minutes or it's free.” Ruben had started tickling Marco in his lap. “Awesome. You got root beer with it too, right?” “Yeah. You and your root beer… You're addicted.” “Hey. It’s better than drugs and alcohol.” “I know. And I'm proud of you,” Dante said, going in for another kiss but Ruben's hand came up to block him. “Oh no, don’t think I didn’t see you coughing,” Ruben said. “I am not getting sick.” “Neither am I,” Dante huffed. “It was barely a cough. I just got dust back there. This place is due for a really good cleaning.” Ruben turned his head. “I'm not taking chances. Make yourself some tea or something.” “Fine. Take Rowan,” Dante said passing over the little redhead so he could get up and go to the kitchen. While he was doing that, Yori walked out with Skylar in arms. Their daughter was sniffling lightly as she snuggled against him. “We're hungry,” Yori stated. “Dante just ordered food. It'll be here soon,” Ruben said. “How's Skylar?” “Her head is hot,” Yori stated. “She sneezed on me.” “Join the club,” Ruben said. “You should let her sleep.” “I will. She needs to eat,” Yori said going over to their armchair and sitting down. “She won’t nurse.” “The food I ordered isn't going to help,” Dante said. “She needs fluids and lots of it. I'll make her a bottle. She might take to more watered-down milk.” Yori nodded and went over to get a bottle out of the fridge so he could make it. Dante shook his head and attempted to take it. “Yori, I'll make it. Don’t worry. Just chill.” “No, you're sick,” Yori said, pulling the bottle away and doing the preparations himself. “Why does everyone think I'm sick?” Dante asked. “Hey, if Yori can sense it, you should probably listen to him,” Ruben said. “Just cool it, and let Yori deal with Skylar. He can’t get sick.” Dante huffed and took his tea back to the couch. “I'm not sick. My throat's just dry. This winter has been so dry…” He cleared his throat, clearly trying to hold back a cough. Ruben put Rowan and Marco on the ground before leaning over and placing the back of his hand on Dante's head. “You're burning up. Wait here.” He got up and went to the bathroom. Dante moped while he waited, not at all liking being treated this way. “You guys are ganging up on me.” Ruben came back with an ear thermometer and turned it on. “Hold still.” He placed a hand on Dante's head to steady him while he placed the probe end of the thermometer in his ear. It beeped after a couple seconds and he took it out. “Hmph. 38.5 degrees Celsius. 101.4 degrees Fahrenheit. That's a fever.” “I don’t feel anything, Ruben,” Dante whined. “You probably did it wrong.” “Just admit it. You're sick.” “I haven’t had a fever in years,” Dante said, placing his tea on the coffee table. “Well then… Your body got cocky and let down its defences. It didn’t expect germ covered triplets.” Ruben patted his cheek. “If you don’t do anything about it now, you'll just get worse. Go lie down.” Dante looked defeated so he pulled out his wallet and put his cash on the table. “For the pizza… Get me change because you're tipping.” Ruben nodded. “Go.” Dante stood up. “I'll be better by tomorrow.” “You're not going to work tomorrow.” “Rube. I gotta work.” “I will call your boss.” “You will n—” Dante was cut off by a small fit of coughing. Ruben got up. “Gross. Go to bed or I'll put you there myself.” Dante recovered from his coughing and glared at Ruben. “You don’t need to threaten me, I was going.” He stuck out his tongue and marched off. Ruben sighed, realising he forgot his tea. He quickly picked it up with the tips of his fingers and took it to the bedroom. Since the birth of the triplets, they'd all been sharing Ruben's room most nights but Dante's room was left as it was so he sometimes went in there to be away from everyone else. Now that he was sick, it only made sense to find him there. Ruben walked in with the tea to find Dante sitting on his bed with his laptop out. “Hey, I said lie down.” “I'm not incapacitated. I can still use my computer,” Dante said. “You need to get over yourself and take a fucking nap,” Ruben said, snatching the laptop and replacing it with the mug of tea. “I need you to get better. I can't do this parent stuff without you.” “You have Yori,” Dante said. “Yori's good for basic nurturing things but not the big picture,” Ruben said. “He's not good at planning things and keeping us organised and neither am I. All I know is how not to get our kids killed. And even then, this job challenges me. So you need to drink your tea then lie down and nap.” Dante looked away, clearly upset. “What about the pizza?” “I'll wake you when it gets here, I promise,” Ruben said. “Just rest, okay? Seriously.” Dante nodded, sipping at his tea then placing it on his nightstand. He curled up with the blankets. Ruben sighed. “Thanks.” He turned off the light and left.

The pizza arrived in twenty minutes which frustrated Ruben just a little because it meant he had to wake up Dante. He suspected he'd still be up and on his phone or something, but Dante was actually fast asleep, snoring with a stuffy nose. Ruben really didn’t want to wake him while he was getting quality recuperation in, but he knew Dante would hate him if he made him sleep through dinner. Gently he rubbed his shoulder, causing a sickly groan. “Dante… Sorry, but the pizza's here,” Ruben said, pushing hair off his boyfriend's forehead. Dante nodded. “Pizza…kay, I'm up…” “Are you sure you want to come out? You’re really stuffed up…” “I gotta eat…” “I'll bring your food,” Ruben said. “But I want to be out there with you guys,” Dante snuffled. Ruben shook his head. “If you don’t want to be alone, I can come eat here with you…” “I don’t want to get you sick too…” “Kay, then I'll send Yori in. You know he loves a good snuggle.” “What about the kids?” “I can watch the kids. It's fine.” “You sure? You had them all day,” Dante said. “Come on, what's another couple hours?” Ruben said. “They go to bed soon…” “They'll have to be changed and bathed and read to…” “I know the routine, Dan,” Ruben said. Dante frowned. “Don’t call me that.” “Alright, Don.” “Rube!” “Dental.” “Don't.” “Don't-eh.” “Fuck you. You're terrible.” “I love you too.” Ruben got up and went to the door. “Just BBQ Chicken, or do you want some of my Bruschetta pizza?” “Are you going to steal some of mine?” “Probably.” “Then bring me a slice of both.” “Kay.” Ruben disappeared for a moment. Dante sighed and sat himself up. He attempted drinking his tea, but he had trouble with his nose so congested. He couldn’t believe how quickly it had all settled in. He felt like the apartment was in part to blame for just being poorly ventilated and dusty. He was so glad they'd be moving soon. The door was pushed ajar and a little black shiba pup pushed his nose in and ran over to Dante's bed, begging to be picked up. “Marco, you sneaky little… Come here,” Ruben said, carrying a plate with him as he came back in. He set it down on Dante's nightstand before scooping up the puppy. “Sorry.” Dante shook his head. “It's okay. Marco just wants to be with Papa.” “Well, I'm not having three sick people on my hands,” Ruben said, petting Marco's head before putting him down outside the door. “I talked to Yori. He'll come in once he's done eating.” “Did Skylar take her bottle?” Dante asked. “She fussed but she did,” Ruben said. “Good…” “Do you need more tea?” “That'd be awesome right now, Rube,” Dante said, taking his plate and sliding it onto his lap. Ruben nodded and took Dante's mug so he could make more tea. Dante took a couple bites of pizza and turned on his TV. He found a half decent sitcom and started watching that. When Ruben came back with the tea, he'd barely had more than a few bites of pizza. “You need to eat, Dante,” Ruben said. As he said that, the doorbell rang and the pups started barking. “Ugh, it's probably my brother…” Dante groaned. “Why?” “It's always my brother.” “I know, I mean, why is he here?” “I don’t know. Get the door.” Ruben set the tea down before going back to the hall. “Eat your food.” As expected, when he opened the door, there were the pair, Lino and Vi, loitering outside. Vi was carrying a Tupperware container. “What's up?” Ruben asked. “Is Dante alright? He appeared ill at our appointment today,” Vi said. “Oh. Uh, yeah... He's caught a cold,” Ruben said. “Probably got it from Skylar.” Vi's eyes widened. “The little one as well? Are they going to be okay?” Ruben nodded. “Yeah, they'll be fine. They're resting.” “Well, Lino informed me that humans make soup to help with illness, so I made this,” Vi said handing over the container. Ruben looked to Lino. “You're worried about us?” “I'm not worried. It's just Vi,” Lino said. “He asked me what to do so I told him. And anyway, we don’t need my brother getting his germs on our kid.” “Well, Yori can’t get sick so your baby should be fine.” Lino crossed his arms. “Are you going to invite us in, or what?” Ruben sighed and moved to let them pass. “Dante's in bed. Yori's out there with the kids.” “I put Skylar to bed,” Yori said walking over with Marco and Rowan in his arms. “Hello.” “Nice to see you again,” Vi said. “We're still very grateful to you for agreeing to carry our child.” Yori nodded. “It's no big deal.” “It is though,” Vi insisted. “Without your help, Lino and I wouldn’t be able to start this next part of our life as parents.” Yori smiled. “I'm glad to help.” “You're helping us get a new home, anyway,” Ruben said. “This place is small and a dump. We can’t wait to get out of here.” Dante managed to hobble out of his room to wave to the visitors. “Hey guys…” “Dante! You're worse than I thought,” Vi said. “I brought you soup. Please get well.” Dante nodded. “Thanks. I'm trying.” “Not hard enough,” Ruben huffed. “Get back to bed.” Dante groaned and retreated into his room. “That seemed a little harsh,” Vi observed. “I'm sure being up and about a little won’t hurt him.” “I don’t like doing this to him, but I know Dante,” Ruben said. “Given the chance, he'll work himself to death.” Lino scoffed. “You're kidding, right? My brother is lazy as hell.” “Not after the triplets,” Ruben said. “I swear, he adopted this drive with them that I've never seen before. He works so hard for these kids. He just doesn't turn off. But we need him. So he needs to get better.” Vi nodded. “Ah. This is an example of ‘tough love'. Lino was explaining that to me.” “Yeah I guess,” Ruben said. “But yeah, without him, we’re outnumbered so I'm trying to make sure he rests properly.” “Well, we'd be glad to lend our services should you need extra help with the children,” Vi offered. “Thanks… Might take you up on that,” Ruben said. They could hear a faint ‘no' come out from Dante's bedroom. Ruben chuckled. “Ah… I think he's just worried about the last time you guys babysat.” “I promise you, should we take on that responsibility again, I will make sure we do not lose any of the children.” “Thanks, but I think we have things handled for now,” Ruben assured. “Alright, well… We just wanted to check in,” Vi said. “We'll be off.” “So soon?” Lino nodded. “Vi has his show in a minute. Even though we are very capable of restarting it…” Vi pouted. “I want to see it live because Fay always sends me spoilers…” Ruben chuckled. “Alright, I'll see you later.” “Bye now.” As those two headed back to their own apartment, Ruben closed the door and went back to check on Yori and the kids. He found them in the bathroom, getting ready for the boys' bath. Marco and Rowan were fussing a lot which was nearly unheard of when Yori was dealing with them. Usually the triplets were really calm for him and he was clearly getting frustrated as he attempted to get them undressed. “I don’t understand,” Yori huffed. Ruben knelt down with him and took Rowan to undress him. “They're probably just upset that they're not with Skylar.” “Oh…” Yori sighed. “They miss being with her?” Ruben nodded. “I got them, alright? You can go snuggle up with Dante.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah. Dante's getting lonely. Go on.” “Okay.” Yori kissed Ruben's cheek before getting up and leaving the bathroom. Ruben closed the door so Marco wouldn’t run off while he was undressing Rowan. Once he got them both out of their onesies and into the tub, he let them play a bit before starting to wash them up. Things were going well until he heard Skylar start crying. Ruben sighed and took the boys out of the tub onto a towel so they didn’t drown themselves while he went to check on her. Yori met him in the hall as he too was going to get Skylar. “Hey, I got this,” Ruben said. “Relax.” “It's okay,” Yori said. “I don’t want you to get sick too.” Ruben shook his head. “What about Dante?” “He's asleep.” Ruben sighed. “Good…” “I'll get Skylar,” Yori said. “Don’t leave the boys alone.” “Right, okay.” Ruben leaned down and kissed Yori's head. “Thanks.” “No problem.” The boys had turned into pups when Ruben came back in but they had waited until he was in there with them before they shook themselves dry. “Aw, come on, guys!” Ruben groaned, picking up a towel and wiping down his pants. “That’s not fair.” He toweled them down and wrapped them up, carrying them out to the living room. Yori walked past again, carrying Skylar and a bundle of blankets this time. “Where’s she going?” Ruben asked. “She’ll sleep with me and Dante,” Yori said. “So she doesn’t get the boys sick.” “Oh, okay.” Skylar whined reaching for Ruben and the boys. “I’m so sorry, baby girl,” Ruben said, giving the sleepy girl a quick kiss on the head. “You can snuggle up with your brothers as soon as you feel better.” “Say goodnight, Sky,” Yori said, using Skylar’s hand to wave. The boys whined too, waving to their sister. Ruben hefted each one up against his shoulders. “Goodnight, Yori and Skylar.” “Goodnight.” “I really hope things get better tomorrow.” “Me too.”

Ruben: *sighs* Why do they have to be so cute when they sleep?

Yori: *Shrugs* Evolution to make you want to protect them instead of killing and eating them?

Ruben: ...It was a rhetorical question, science side of Tumblr.

Yori: What’s a Tumblr?

Ruben: It’s a... No, you’re not ready.

#lore #mpreg #Yori #Ruben #Dante #Marco #Skylar #Rowan

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welcometophu · 7 years

Text

Not Your Destiny: Chapter 18

Marked Book 1: Not Your Destiny

Chapter 18

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Ángel gets a text late in the day that Emerson is home with Tanner. He has Luca leave him at Tanner’s place, but he doesn’t stay long, not wanting to exhaust anyone further. It’s enough to see that Emerson’s okay, the bubbles few and far between, dull in color.

Ángel hugs Tanner before he leaves, holds on tight while Tanner clings to him in return. “Get some sleep,” Ángel murmurs, and hesitates before he steps back. “You know, if you want Hayley to come over here, all you have to do is ask her. I’m not trying to keep her away from you. Everything is up to her, right?”

Tanner’s gaze drops for a moment. “Yeah. Well. I don’t want to ask and make it awkward.”

“More awkward,” Ángel says dryly, and it takes a heartbeat but they both laugh.

“Look,” Ángel says. “Just talk to her. Talk to her like she’s not my ex-girlfriend. Like she’s not my other best friend, and forget about the part where she’s staying at my house. Or don’t forget that, since it means you can walk over there, and she can walk over here. Treat her like a girl you want to date, if you want to date her.”

“I think we’re getting there,” Tanner admits. “I like her, Ángel. She’s like you, except a girl.”

“We’re not that much alike.”

“She talks more.”

Ángel tilts his head, agrees silently. Hayley talks more. Ángel’s thoughts just run in circles a mile a minute, and he does his best not to let the inside voice become the outside voice. Years of practice. The fact that Hayley doesn’t have a filter, and doesn’t let it bother her, is one of the things Ángel loves about her. “Call her,” he says quietly.

Tanner turns away, phone in his hand, as Ángel starts to walk down the street. He doesn’t even get to his house before he sees the door open and Hayley emerge, her phone pressed to her ear. She has a small grocery bag over her arm, swinging and bumping her hip as she walks quickly. She stops abruptly, mouth slightly open, shifting to a bright smile when she sees Ángel.

“Hey,” she says, then shoves the phone in her pockets so she can throw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. “I love you, you know that, right? I mean, I really do love you. And you’re a really good friend, and you know I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But Tanner needs someone there, and I’m not that someone.” Ángel nuzzles her hair above her ear. It’s still familiar, still comforting. He kisses her temple, lets her go. “I get it, Hayley. It’s getting easier. Is it getting easier for you?”

“I like him,” she says.

“I feel like I’m back in middle school,” Ángel grumbles. “You like him, he likes you. Maybe you like like each other, but you don’t know. Should we pass notes next?”

“You did, when you told him to call me.”

She has a point. Ángel rubs his forehead, shakes his head. “If you need anything, call. Apparently if you keep calling, it gets through the volume being turned off because they think it’s an emergency. So, if you have an emergency, break through.”

“I’m going to be fine. They have a guest room, and a couch,” Hayley points out. She darts back in, gives him one more quick hug. “I’ve got a book, and my phone, because I think Tanner’s probably going to sleep early because he’s still super tired. I got a nap today when the kids napped, which was really kind of awesome. They, like, do this whole puppy pile thing and we built a blanket fort and we all cuddled. They’re really good kids.”

That reminds him. “We’re invited to that party Zita’s setting up at Tony’s place,” Ángel tells her.

“Oh! Right, I know, I was supposed to tell you that. Tanner, too,” Hayley says.

It’s nice to know they’re all on the same page, even if they’re not passing messages consistently. Ángel shifts his weight, leans back, suddenly awkward, and not sure what else to say. He’s never felt like this with Hayley before, never not had words for her.

She raises one hand to touch his cheek. “It’s all going to be okay,” she says, and he can see the ink on her wrist before her hand falls away.

“Go,” he says, and there’s no pain in his voice, just that tight feeling twisting in his chest.

He envies her. She knows what her potential is, she knows that all she has to do is settle in and see what happens. Ángel knows that his potential is out there, and instead of looking for it… he thinks he might be starting to crush on someone he can’t have, instead.

Because he needs his heart broken twice within a month, right?

He heads inside, and Abuela is there, just pulling the leaves from a fresh pot of tea. She sets them aside neatly on a plate to catch the drips, then pours two cups, and adds a healthy dollop of honey to Ángel’s cup before handing it to him.

“Not coffee?” he says, blowing on the hot liquid before taking a cautious sip. Jasmine green, sweet and potent, exactly like he’d started drinking at Teas Please.

“This is to give you comfort, not me,” she says with a small smile. “Besides, I’m old enough, and it is late enough, that I should like to sleep tonight without insomnia.”

“They make decaf.” Ángel takes another sip, and wonders what magic Abuela has to know exactly how sweet to make it. It’s probably just a grandparent thing, like remembering favorite colors and preferred brands of ice cream, along with the fact that he likes his tea sweet even though he prefers his coffee black.

Abuela snorts. “No. I would rather drink tea. And your green isn’t bad.” She walks away, carrying her cup into the living room and taking a seat at one end of the sofa.

Ángel could take his tea, go upstairs. She might not follow him. Or he could do what’s simplest, and take the offered seat.

He slumps in his space at the other end of the sofa, his tea cradled in his hands, legs sprawled out. “Emerson’s tired, and missing some time, but he’s mostly okay,” he says.

“Hayley mentioned, before she left.” Abuela sips at her tea slowly, lowers it to keep it in her hands, resting against her lap. “How do you feel, Ángel?”

Like crap, overall, but Ángel gets the feeling that she’s asking a specific question. He touches the thought in his mind, tries to roll it over, tease out his own emotions. “It hurts,” he admits. “Is it always going to hurt, Abuela? Because right now, it feels like she’s still a part of me. But at the same time, it’s getting easier. They deserve to have a chance, and if they’re better than she was with me, then that’s a good thing. And I still… I have a chance. Somewhere.”

She’s silent at that, and he wonders if she’s absorbing the information or quietly waiting for him to say more.

“What happened with Emerson scared the shit out of me,” Ángel says quietly. “I figured he wasn’t going to die. Talent doesn’t kill you, right? But at the same time, I didn’t know what was going to happen, and maybe I was wrong. And he’s only fourteen. We’re too young to be mortal.”

“Everyone is mortal,” Abuela says quietly. “And Talent can kill you, depending on what your Talent is. I have seen Mages burn from the inside from the strength of their power.”

That is an incredibly disturbing image. Ángel tightens his grip around the cup, forces himself to take a sip and relax. Release the tension from his shoulders, reach out to set the cup on the table instead of clinging to it like a lifeline.

Abuela mirrors his motion, sets her own cup there as well.

“Just tell me you get over your first love,” Ángel mutters, drawing his feet up to sit cross-legged and sideways on the couch, facing Abuela.

She makes a soft sound, and he meets her gaze, sees sorrow drawn there. Her fingers slide over the skin inside her wrist, from fletching to tip of the arrow.

“You still miss Abuelo.” It’s been a long time, almost as long as Mami’s been gone. Ángel wonders what it would be like to still feel that ache after nearly a decade. It sounds like the kind of pain he could drown under.

“I still miss him, yes,” Abuela says. She looks at a point on the wall, seeing something that isn’t there. “And I miss the one I loved before him, too. It has been a very long time, Ángel, and you will always remember your first love. But you will move on, and you will live without her. And you will be able to let another in your heart.”

Ángel leans forward, reaches for her wrist. “You loved someone before Abuelo?”

She smiles slightly, covers his hand with hers. “Very much. I do not regret loving and marrying your abuelo, but I do think of my first love as well. And wonder, at times, how things might have been different.” She touches his cheek with her free hand. “For one, neither you nor Marcos would be here, and I would regret that to the depth of my soul, to unwrite you from this world.”

A small smile almost quirks free. “Dramatic,” he says, and she snorts softly.

“I am dramatic, yes,” she admits. “But it is still true. This is the path I took, and that path brought me your father and you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He has his thumb on her mark, and he taps it lightly. “Why an arrow?”

Abuela tugs lightly, and he lets her go, lets her pull her hand back to her own lap. “He was a protector,” she says, lips pressing slightly. That space on the wall fascinates her again, and even when Ángel coughs slightly, she doesn’t meet his eyes. “He kept our family safe,” she says.

“Was there a reason we wouldn’t be safe?” Ángel asks.

Abuela blinks, smiles gently when she looks at him. “Of course not, mijo. That is just who your abuelo was.”

There’s a piece to the story missing here, something that she’s not saying. Ángel is pretty damned sure she’s not going to say it, either, even if he tries to push. “I guess maybe we all just think about mortality at some point, and maybe he worried about it earlier.”

“Perhaps.” She turns his wrist now, touches the cat. “And you? Have you found the match for your mark?”

“I’ve found a lot of people who aren’t my match,” Ángel mutters dryly. “And there’s one—” He hesitates, breath tight.

“Yes?”

Ángel huffs out the breath, forces it through tight lungs. “There is one guy that I think I might be attracted to, who is (a) straight as that arrow, and (b) something that’s not Clan but still hates Magic. So.”

“And he’s not your soulmate,” Abuela says gently.

Ángel blinks at her, trying to read something past those words. “He’s got plenty of ink, but none of it mine,” he says slowly, licks his lips after the words come out, just to see how they taste. “But Abuela, if he were my soulmate, it wouldn’t be a problem for me. I’m bisexual.”

The smile never leaves her expression, the gentle fondness stays in the way she pats his hand. “Thank you for saying it,” she tells him.

“Wait.” He pulls back. “Did you know?”

“You talk about boys as easily as you talk about girls,” Abuela says. “And then there’s Tanner.” She tilts one hand up as if to say of course, and Ángel has to agree with that assessment. “But until you said, I didn’t want to push you to talk about it. When you hadn’t made a fuss, I didn’t think we should.”

“Papi and Joey know.” Ángel’s always figured they had no idea, that they hadn’t paid attention to the way he used inclusive pronouns, to the way he tried not to specify male or female. He’s grown so used to everyone just assuming, especially after he started dating Hayley.

“We know, and we love you.”

“But the church—”

“The church is a place, and it is filled with men, and sometimes those men make mistakes,” Abuela says. “God made you, and God loves you; I have faith in that. Now, tell me about this boy.”

It startles a laugh from Ángel, both the thought of Tony as a boy, and the way Abuela leans forward slightly, her expression as open and intent as when Ángel first told her about Hayley over Skype. He leans forward, meets her in the middle of the couch and hugs her, holding on for a long moment. “Thank you,” he says.

“Not everyone is as understanding, I know,” Abuela murmurs, patting his back. “But we will be with you, Ángel. They only fear what they do not understand.”

When she offers her arm, Ángel curls in close to her, as if he doesn’t stand so much taller than her now. He’s no longer a child, but when she’s so willing to take the weight of his worries, it feels good to just be able to let them go. “Okay, so, the problem is… it’s my boss.”

“Which one is your boss?”

“Well, Gabi and Zita own part of the shop, but I’m talking about Tony. I don’t think you’ve met him yet.” Ángel curls a hand over his center, like he can try to pull out the strange feeling he’s been getting. “He’s… he’s hot. I shouldn’t say that, I know, but he’s so hot.”

Abuela’s laugh shakes them both. “Your abuelo was attractive.” When Ángel winces, she laughs again. “You see, I can embarrass you in return.”

Ew. Just… while Ángel has seen the pictures, and can academically understand that both his grandparents were attractive people when younger, he really doesn’t want to consider how his abuela thought that his abuelo was hot. Just. Ew.

“Let’s move beyond physical appearances.” Because while Tony is really good looking—well built, muscled, lean, tall, strong, and that’s not even getting into the scruff of facial hair that somehow seems to pull Ángel in—that’s not all of it. “He’s a good person. He’s working on things for charity, and he goes beyond what people ask for. Like with Helga—we’re practically rebuilding her. And he says he’s doing it because he’s making me help him, because I’m doing my own labor, but I don’t believe him.”

“And how do you know he’s uninterested in you?” Abuela says it as if she can’t believe anyone would look past Ángel, and while it feels good to have that kind of support, he knows the truth.

“Because he’s been dating this girl for something like eleven years,” Ángel tells her, his voice going flat. “She’s a bitch, and apparently they’ve split up plenty of times, but all she has to do is call and they’re back together. So. Pretty sure he’s not going to dump her for me.”

Abuela pulls her feet up to sit cross-legged as well, her knees bumping Ángel’s on the sofa. For a moment her hands rest on her knees, then on her ankles as she leans forward, before she finally grips his hands in hers. “Ángel,” she says, voice low. “If there is something you would truly regret, something that you would think of in the future the way you think of Hayley now, do not simply walk away.”

“It’s not like Hayley,” he protests. “It’s just a crush. Besides, my mark—”

She squeezes his hands tightly, and he goes quiet. Watches her. She holds on for a long moment, then uses his hands to push herself back to sitting upright. “The things most worth having are often not at all easy,” she reminds him. “You will find someone to complement you, and to challenge you, but do not ever expect it to be simple.”

She said that before, but now he sees Hayley and Tanner and the way they simply flow together, as if they were always meant to be. Ángel shakes his head. “It’s not that way for Hayley.”

“She is not you, and her story is not yours,” Abuela says. “Follow where your path leads, Ángel. You know we will be with you along the way.”

There are times when Ángel suspects that Abuela knows more than she says. “Do you know who my soulmate is?”

She smiles slightly, shakes her head. “No, but I have no doubt that you will find them, whoever they might be.”

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#welcome to phu #welcometophu #not your destiny #phu marked #marked

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