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sirensmojo · 3 years

Text

"Collection" - Hubby!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Big fluff, typical wife/hubby scenes.

gif of @mistress-gif {here is the post}

Summary: Tommy ruining your carpet collection.

*Masterlist*

“Tommy, what’s this?” You calmly asked, pointing down.

“The ground, Y/N.”

“On top of it, you idiot.”

“Carpet?” He responded not sure about what your point was.

“Yeah. Now, what’s on top of it?”

“What’s the thing, eh?” Tommy was puffing on his cig while reading the newspaper, as usual for this time of the day.

“Just answer me, Thomas.”

It was around 4 in the afternoon, the only time in the day when he wasn’t too busy these days. He spent most of the time at the House Of Commons, so much that a little routine had settled.

Each day at 3:30 you heard his car outside, a maid telling you your husband was back home. And as each day at that hour, you were reading your weekly book, training your creativity for the novels you were writing.

When Tommy was back at the Arrow house, you weren’t there to welcome him, but you always had the maids put some tea in the living room along with biscuits for him.

“Wine.” He confidently responded, still reading his papers.

You knew your husband, despite whatever he was doing outside the house, he loved his cocoon, this moment of peace you gave him. In the only free hours of his day, he could drink without thinking too much, but Tommy being him, he soon began to read some books about politics, he couldn’t stay too long without doing anything.

You would always let him spend this time alone, sitting on the armchairs of the living room, a drink of whiskey next to his cup of British tea and a plate of biscuits. You let him charge his batteries, so he wouldn’t be too exhausted when coming back late at night.

All you wanted was to nourish him so he could be better at “work”, because that’s what he wanted for himself, and even if you loved him so much, you couldn’t know what was best for him better than himself, right?

It was pretty unusual of you to disturb him like that, and he wasn’t even ready for what was coming.

“No. No.” You shook your head to the left and right, “It’s blood. You fucking stained my expensive carpet with fucking blood.” You accentuated ‘expensive’ and raised your brows to voice your displeasure without even looking at him, which made your husband stop what he was doing to look up to you, blinking.

It’s the first time he lifts his eyes to you since you started this conversation, and an unreadable expression was all over his face.

Your working desk was turned towards him, which means you could still write on your typewriter as you were settling a score with him, you didn’t even lift your gaze to him and this added a dramatic side to the scene.

“So you’re not mad about the blood, you’re mad I stained the carpet.” He said utterly to himself, wrinkles of confusion drawing at the corner of his eyes.

You throw him a quick glance and see that he had dropped his papers on his crossed legs, he was now attentively looking at you.

“My fucking carpet, Tommy.” You highlighted, making him exhaling deeply.

You weren’t usually swearing that much, and the fact you did in this situation made him realize how mad you were.

“I can buy you another one.”

“You offered it to me the day we were coming back from our weekend in Paris.” You said, pouting.

This time you stopped writing and stared at him with puppy eyes.

“Yeah, because a couple days prior to that you made a scene about another carpet, Y/N,” Tommy said outright. He seemed fed-up with your obsession with carpets and came sipping on his drink.

You remember that day as if it was yesterday and couldn’t hold a laugh that escaped your throat, echoing in Tom’s ear that looked back to you.

The face he was making made you laugh even louder, so much he gave you his side look.

Of course, he loved to see his wife smiling and hearing her laugh, but with you, it was always more than just a smile, more than just a laugh, you were pretty dramatic, in everything.

When he would come home late, you used to sit in the armchair of your room and wait for him there, in the dark, lightening up the bedroom as soon as he set foot in it.

You were always lightening up the mood, you brought him something light. He knew that with you nothing was too serious, contrasting with his life where everything was, so no need to say you were succeeding at easing his mind.

He and you first met at the garrison, you forced the barmaid to give you a drink even though you were alone, using the excuse that you finished writing your first book and that it deserved to be celebrated.

When Tom heard that, he was instantly intrigued by you. A woman writing? It wasn’t the type of woman he knew. Of course, there was Lizzie but she was writing secretary things, not a book.

He was impressed, and somehow wanted to know more. That night was the first night since forever that Tommy spent the night with a woman without fucking her.

And a thing leading to another, you grew very fond of each other before the love came, submerging both of you with its violent waves.

Your marriage was still very fresh in your memory, as were your shared memories such as the day Tommy referred to before he took you to Paris for a weekend.

If you were, to be honest with yourself, you would say that the only reason for this weekend together was to make you forget about the time his men wrapped up a body in your carpet.

It was a windy spring day, Tommy was sitting in the garden at the table, his head dropped back to feel the wind fondle his face and embrace his figure.

The area was so calm and peaceful that your voice almost made him fall off the chair.

“Tommy Michael fucking Shelby! I’m fucking going to kill ya!” You were yelling at him, walking towards him in the grass, barefoot.

His eyes opened abruptly and he tilted his head towards you, hands crossed on his stomach.

As soon as his vision got used to the bright light, he frowned and straightened up on the chair, you were dragging a gigantic embroidered white carpet on the grass. And this wasn’t all, you were wearing your almost see-through grey satin nightgown.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” He desperately let out, getting up, ready to reach you.

“You fucking put down your little ass on that chair, Mr Shelby.” You screamed again while breathing heavily from dragging this huge luxurious piece to him.

He exhaled deeply and sat down, passing a hand over his face. He wondered what was on your mind this time.

You ultimately reach the perfect spot so he could perfectly see what you will be complaining about. You dropped the heavy piece of fabric you were holding and pushed strands of hair that were on your face behind your ears.

Sweat beaded on your forehead but you were sure it was worth it.

“What the actual FUCK happened with my carpet, Thomas?” You pointed to the multiple burn marks on your carpet. “Do you know how fucking expensive it was? It came from Italy, mate!” You angrily let out.

Tommy’s jaws dropped when seeing the integrality of the carpet, he knew what happened with this, but he wasn’t sure that telling it to you was a good idea at first. It’s when he saw your scolding look that he cleared his throat.

“Y/N… There was a fucking body in this.”

You opened your mouth in a perfect “o” shape, “There was what, where?” You solemnly repeated, hoping you didn’t hear right.

You didn’t care about Tommy’s business, you’d never showed any reticence toward the way he lived his life. You will never judge him, he was doing what he had to do.

But this… This was too much.

“There was --”

“Ssshh,” You interrupted him, “you fucking crossed the line Thomas, I bought that one with my own money. You owe money to me now! Fucking Blinder Devil.”

“What the fuck are you saying, Y/N? What line?” Tommy frowned even more. He was amused but a bit scared if he was, to be honest, how his oh so tiny wife could spit like that, he’ll never know.

He even thought for a second it was him that woke the monster inside of you by buying you your first carpet on your wedding day.

He coughed at the last part of your swearings. Well, it was true you were a writer so he shouldn’t be surprised you came out with such a nickname for him.

“Don’t forget you owe me carpets still. I ain’t forgotten about my Italian carpet!” You squint your eyes while looking at him, and that’s when you glimpse a smile at the corner of his lips.

You tried your best not to smile, but the vision of a smiling Tommy made your heart flutter more than anything else.

Your warm smile lighted something inside of him, and it was with haste that you got up to join him. Tommy was intently watching each of your movements as if you were mesmerizing him. You came to sit on the armrest of his chair, placing both your arms around his neck, your eyes anchored in his, and stayed there.

It wasn’t the only times he did shitty things to your carpets, and it’ll probably not be the last, but at least you will have plenty of stories to tell your children when you have some.

#Hubby! Tommy Shelby #Husband Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Thomas Shelby x Reader #Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby

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josefavomjaaga · 3 years

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Report from Naples to Metternich, January 1814

So, we’re back in Naples. The armistice during the summer of 1813 in the German theater or war and the Congress of Prague had ended without a result, and Austria declared war on France. When Murat and his Neapolitan troops entered the war on Napoleon’s side in August 1813, Mier had of course left Naples. Next came the battle of Leipzig in October; Napoleon had to give up on Germany.

Murat returned to Naples (that’s the occasion where he lost both carriage and hat in the Alpes and is briefly stranded in Milan). In Upper Italy Eugène - without Neapolitan support - has been unable to hold off the Austrians; as his Bavarian father-in-law has switched sides and joined the Allies, Eugène has had to retreat even further west to at least defend Lombardy.

In the meantime, at the beginning of the new year, the Allied troops have crossed the Rhine and entered French territory. The final months of Napoleon’s empire have begun.

This is when Count Mier returns to Naples, in order to take up his office as ambassador there. He immediately sends a long report with apparently several postscripts to Metternich (who, for his part, is once again busying himself - but by now with a marked lack of enthusiasm - with negotiations for a peace, this time at Chatillon, meeting there with a similarly exasperated Caulaincourt).

I have broken up this extremly long block of text into several paragraphs. All translated from Helfert, “Joachim Murat” once again.

Mier to Metternich (in his own hand)

Naples this 16th of January 1814

My Prince!

The almost impassable roads and the precautions to which I was obliged to resort when crossing the territories still occupied by French troops, only allowed me to reach Naples on the 11th of this month. It was with true pleasure that I learned on arriving that the alliance between the two Courts had been concluded and signed on the 8th of January, in accordance with the instructions Your Highness had given to the Count of Neipperg, who in that occasion gave new proofs of his talents, his skill and his devotion to the service of our august sovereign.

An hour after my arrival in Naples H. M. the King had the Duke of Gallo tell me that he wished to see me immediately. I went to the palace. The King received me with kindness and goodness, and told me many flattering things about my return and the hope he had of keeping me close to him. Thanking him respectfully, I told him my Sovereign had destined me, in the event of the alliance concluded between the two courts, to return to my diplomatic functions close to his person, that it depended therefore only on his Majesty to accept this choice of my master.

"I have charged the Count of Neipperg," said the King, "to ask the Emperor Francis for your return to Naples as a favour; you will therefore understand the pleasure which the certainty of your being accredited to my person must give me... I have done everything", the King continued, "that Austria wanted, I have blindly signed the alliance which the Count of Neipperg submitted to me, putting as much confidence in the friendship and interest which the Emperor Francis is willing to show me, and in his promise to make me obtain at the general peace an indemnity for the sacrifices to which I have subscribed, as in any transactions and stipulations which we might have made in this respect for the time being. I place my interests entirely in the hands of the Emperor Francis, and place myself with confidence under the aegis of the loyalty of the Austrian government, I am convinced that I will never regret it; Austria will know how to support an ally who will remain devoted to her as much out of gratitude as out of the concern for his peoples. But I repeat to you again that you must magnify me, strengthen me so that I am no longer a burden to you. You will get no benefit from all these small states which you wish to establish in Italy. Put me in a position to always maintain an army of 60,000 men, and the repose of Italy and your influence will be assured. Let me be in a position to support the first shock of an enemy who would come to attack you there and give you time to come to my aid, in this state of affairs Austria and the King of Naples, equipped with a common interest, will defy all the hostile enterprises of the other powers against Italy"....

I answered the King that Austria greatly deserved his confidence by the perseverance which she put in supporting and defending her interests with the other powers; that he must be well imbued with the idea that it is only to Austria that he will owe the preservation of his crown; that not only the true interests of his country, but also gratitude must engage him to second the views of my court; that, following a good line of conduct, frankly executing his promises and engagements, showing much uprightness and confidence in all his steps, he could be sure that Austria would support him on all occasions; that I was even authorised to promise him in this case advantages and enlargements to the general peace.

"I will carry out", the King answered me, "my promises and engagements as a man of honour; once my side is taken, Austria will never have reason to repent of the protection she has given me. But could you not assure me in advance of what you promise to grant me in the general peace? This commitment would remain secret and I would have more peace of mind about the future«.

I told him that no such commitment had been made with any power, that everything had been postponed until the general peace, that if we had begun by discussing the interests of each one in particular, the allied armies would not yet be on the other side of the Rhine. "The ease," I continued, "which Your Majesty placed in the conclusion of our alliance, and the complete abandonment of his interests to the benevolent friendship of the Emperor Francis, committed my Master all the more to procure for Him real advantages in the general pacification. May Your Majesty be at ease on this score, for it is His task to merit entirely the confidence of the Allies by a good line of conduct, and He must necessarily share in the advantages which will result from his vigorous cooperation in the cause of Europe."

The King replied that it is only this blind confidence which he has in the loyalty of our sovereign and of his ministry which has determined him to pass over many considerations which are personal to him, and to enter blindly into our views. "I do not hide from you", he continued, "that it is painful for me to have to fight against the French. Your sovereign would not think well of my character if it were otherwise. But I know the interests of my people, I act as King of Naples and silence all other secondary considerations. The Neapolitans must be very grateful for the proof of devotion which I am giving them on this occasion, and my present and future conduct proves and will prove to the sovereigns that I am worthy of occupying a place among them... At first I wanted to wait for your return to sign the alliance, being convinced that the overtures I had charged you with, and the full knowledge you had of my views and the feelings I have for your master, would have given me better conditions and some real and positive advantages. But having thought about it I did not want to put any obstacle or delay in the prompt conclusion of our arrangement. What has not been stipulated for the moment will be stipulated later".

I replied to His Majesty that my instructions and full powers were the same as those of the Count of Neipperg and that my arrival would not have made any change to the negotiations. "I am only authorised to assure Your Majesty that my sovereign would willingly lend her the opportunity of obtaining advantages and enlargements to the general peace, in proportion to the efforts Your Majesty will make to co-operate with the views of the Allies."

Our conversation continued well into the night and everything that His Majesty was kind enough to tell me clearly proves that we can count on him.

Accept etc.

[Postscript No. 3, Mier to Metternich, again in his own hand]

Naples this 16th of January 1814.

My Prince!

Disorder has grown so badly in Rome that the principal inhabitants of this city have decided to send a deputation to H. M. the King of Naples to ask him to take possession of it and to introduce a provisional government there. The three deputies who arrived yesterday in Naples are Princes Sara (Sciarra?) and Barberini and Mr. Potenciani. The commands of General Miollis, Governor of Rome, can no longer contain the rabble, French personnel run the risk of being massacred at any moment. This spirit of insurrection had already spread to the neighbouring countryside. A general uprising of the common people is expected at any moment, who, under the pretext of driving out the French, will plunder the houses of all the rich owners. The Neapolitan troops have been ordered until now not to take any part in the events which are taking place there. This state of affairs would bring great misfortune upon Rome, unless it were brought to an end as soon as possible.

S. M. the King has already given the necessary orders to take possession of all the countries occupied by his troops. I have the honour to be ut in litteris...

#joachim murat #napoleon #austria #metternich #1814 #italy1814 #helfert murat

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bumblebeug · 5 years

Text

Felinette. Nothing Bad Ever Happens to Me Pt. 4

Hello Everyone! I wrote a really long chapter, I hope you enjoy it. @7701deathlyhalfbloodprincess, @captainmac6, @iwantswifttoblessmysoul, @lady-flora-of-slytherin -Thank you so much for your support! And @dargeon-lissa, thank you for replying to my question all the way back at part two!

So without further adieu:

Nothing Bad Ever Happens to Me Pt. 4

“Oh, mother,” Lila whispered hoarsely, “I’m sure I’ll feel much better by lunch.”

Her mother’s brows drew together in concern, “Darling, don’t push yourself too hard. You don’t want to make what you have any worse.”

Lila sat up lightly from her position in bed, “Of course Mother.” She blew her nose delicately, “I promise that if I don’t feel up to it, I won’t go. I’d hate for anyone to get sick because of me.”

Mrs. Rossi bent forward and smoothed her daughter’s bangs to the side and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I know dear, that’s what makes you my special girl.”

Eyes closed, Lila leaned into her mother’s kiss and breathed in deeply. Instead of wearing the perfume that Lila spent weeks picking out, her mother was wearing the one her boyfriend had chosen. She wrinkled her nose. She had forgotten that he was back in Italy. Waiting to take her mother’s precious time away from her again. If Lila got her way – which she was sure she would, he would soon be a forgotten memory for her mother too.

Too soon for Lila’s liking, her mother pulled away softly exclaiming, “Oh my. Is that the time?” as she checked her watch. Mrs. Rossi planted another kiss atop Lila’s head, “Dear, remember to keep your liquids up – I have another late night again, but there’s soup in the fridge.”

Mrs. Rossi paused at her daughter’s doorframe, “I love you. Please feel better.”

“I love you too Mother – don’t worry about me; I’ll be just fine.” Lila called to her retreating back and listened to the click of the front door. Lila meant it too; she always turned up on top. She got what she wanted. And right now, she wanted Felix wrapped around her finger like all the others at school. Yesterday’s research had been a failure, Lila thought as she opened her laptop, but today she would discover what the mysterious new boy liked.

----------

Marinette woke up with her first alarm feeling energized and practically sprang from the confines of her sheets. All thanks to Adrien, yesterday had been amazing, she thought dreamily. Well. It had been overall amazing. At first, everything had been a little stiff and awkward but as the day wore on, she gradually stopped worrying that everything would fall apart. It had felt good to be with everyone again. With luck, she thought as she brushed her hair, today would be a repeat. She caught her eye in the mirror as she was tying her hair into her customary pigtails. Hmm. Maybe she could shake it up a bit.

Marinette held a fresh box of croissants and waved goodbye to her parents as she left the bakery. She was proud of herself – she had finished up the notes that Felix requested, got to braid her hair, and, best of all, there was a chance she would be able to sit with her friends again today. After all, maybe Lila really was sick. The chill morning air hit her face pleasantly as she walked.

With a giggle, Tikki flew up to Marinette’s shoulder, “You look like you’re going to start dancing in the streets, Marinette.”

Grinning, Marinette gave a little twirl, “I can’t help it! Look how well today is already going. I finished Felix’s notes, sketched out a phenomenal jacket for Jagged, and I even woke up with the first alarm!”

“Not to mention enough time to make your hair so pretty.” Tikki stroked a lock of her French plait. “I told you that everything would work out.”

Marinette giggled at Tikki’s smug expression, “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” She stroked Tikki’s forehead with her finger, “Patience and sacrifice pay off in the end. Don’t let it inflate your big head.”

Tikki swatted Marinette’s finger in mock outrage, “My head is not big! It’s perfectly kwami sized!”

Marinette rolled her eyes and held her hands up in surrender, “Of course.”

Tikki nestled against Marinette’s neck, not willing to go back in the purse, but wanting to ward off the morning air all the same.

“Hey Tikki?” Marinette’s carefree attitude slipped a little.

“Mmm?”

“Do you think that Hawk Moth is planning something again? Something big?” Marinette gripped a strap of her backpack and dropped her voice, “Like Hero’s Day?”

Just because the class had become more balanced of late, didn’t mean that the rest of Paris was. Every day it was full of frustrated, upset people. The fact that Hawk Moth had scaled back so drastically made her feel antsy. The lack of akumas made Marinette feel uncomfortable like there was an itch that she couldn’t reach. Tikki plucked at the tense fingers to loosen their grip,

“If he is planning something, we’ll be ready for him. You have grown so much since we’ve been together – I know that we’ll be able to handle whatever he throws at us.”

“Yeah… you’re right,” Marinette straightened her shoulders, “We can do anything as long as we’re together.”

They neared the gates of the school.

“You better hid now though. School awaits.”

Tikki gave Marinette one last pat before diving into the opened purse.

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Gabriel Agreste silenced his alarm before dragging his hand down his face. He hadn’t slept last night. Or the night before last for that matter. As of late, his days were a consistent sludge. The upcoming fashion show was eating him alive. He had spent so much time as Hawk Moth, he hadn’t been designing – brushing it off as a future concern. But now the fashion show was practically on top of him and he had very little to show for it.

Groaning, he rang Nathalie and requested she bring him the strongest caffeinated beverage she could find. Cursing himself, he looked over his sketchbook and cursed himself for ignoring the schedule Nathalie had set up for him so many months back. He couldn’t reschedule the show – it would be too suspicious. Enjoy your free time while you can Ladybug, Gabriel thought bitterly. Right now, there was no time for villainy – not when his reputation was on the line.

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Felix tapped his pen against his desk, thinking. The student representative had certainly been affected by the change in seating yesterday – her shoulder’s, which had been stiffly pulled back in the morning, had relaxed into a more confident pose as the day wore on. Still. There had been something off – just a flicker of unease that held her back. He wondered what it was. A small part of him hoped that it was some kind of epic intrigue. A secret side to her that she was hiding, keeping her from being her true self. But he dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came. Just because he had moved to a place inhabited by superheroes and villains, didn’t mean that everyone’s life was just as fantastical as the city they lived in.

Today his interaction with her had been brief. She apologized for the delay in notes and offered him a croissant. He declined the croissant, he had the model-standard strict diet, but accepted the notes. Then, nonplussed, she left for the seat she sat in yesterday and that was that. Looks like today is another one of observation he thought as he brought his thermos to his lips.

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Alya gave Marinette a sly smile as she took a croissant, “Trying to doll it up for our resident sunshine boy?”

Marinette blushed, she hadn’t had Adrien in mind when she changed up her hair – but now her mind started to race with possibilities. Adrien might compliment her hair and if she could manage to keep her cool, then they might start dating. And years from now today would be remembered as their anniversary of first getting together. And –

Alya snapped her fingers in Marinette’s face, “Whoa girl, careful – don’t get lost in la-la land so early in the morning, we might never get you back.”

“Girl, don’t look now but Mr. Icicle is burning a hole in the back of your head again. You say something to piss him off or something?”

“Pft. No way, Marinette is sweet as sugar – what could she have done to piss him off in the three days he’s been here?” Nino laughed.

Marinette started to turn around only to be stopped by Alya’s firm hand on her shoulder, “What did I just say?”

Alya continued, “Let’s review the facts: first, he’s barely said five words to anyone here! Second, he completely rebuffs any attempt at conversation. Third, he rejected a croissant.” Alya bit into her own for emphasis, “How on earth could anyone with a soul resist one of these? Even Mr. Top Model’s willpower isn’t that strong.” She gestured towards him, “Look – he’s trying to sneak one as I speak.”

Adrien abruptly snatched his hand out of the box, looking abashed, “Well… you said it yourself – Felix didn’t want one, so that means that there’s extra.”

Marinette rested her hands on her cheeks, Adrien was so cute it should be illegal. She knew she wouldn’t be able to speak so she just nodded when he turned a pleading gaze on her.

“Thanks, Marinette!” Adrien said as he helped himself.

Nino glanced up towards the back, feeling uneasy. Felix really was just staring at the group with an unreadable expression. He didn’t like the way that Felix’s gaze lingered on Marinette in particular. “Hey,” he stated cautiously, “Marinette.”

“Mhm?” Marinette replied, still recovering her speaking faculties.

“Alya’s right. He really is focusing some major lasers on you right now.” He pushed his glasses up, “You’ll tell us if he does anything weird…right?”

Marinette’s eyes widened, where was all of this coming from? Did he unsettle everyone that much? Alya flicked the rim of Nino’s hat down, “What this goofball is trying to say is that Adrien told us that he has a bit of a reputation in the modeling world as being a jerk and that you should watch out.”

“The worst thing I’ve done is give him some notes late.” Marinette tried to turn around again only to be thwarted again by Alya.

“Uh-huh, no way – ” Alya was cut off as Adrien interrupted, “Actually, that might be enough to get on Felix’s bad side. He is… a little temperamental.”

Nino drew her attention again, “Look all I’m saying is that he gives off a weird vibe. Alright?”

Marinette felt a warmth blossom in her chest, Nino really was the right choice for the turtle miraculous. All he wanted to do was protect his friends. Marinette solemnly drew her hand up to her heart, “Nino, I promise that if he does anything I don’t like – I will tell you straight away.”

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Sometimes, Felix forgot that books weren’t loud. That no one but he could hear the klaxons blaring as the two intrepid heroes made their desperate escape from the deadly, evil Overlord. For him, once properly engaged, the noise of the action would drown out the meaningless chatter around him until he was running down the hallway with the heroes – listening to them as they planned and worried for their safety.

His total engagement with the text meant that any outside distraction was, to say the least, upsetting as he was jarred back into the real world. The sound would abruptly cut out for a disorienting moment and the characters would fade back into the typeface. It was always incredibly aggravating to be ripped away from a story like that.

“Sorry.” A voice said. Only it didn’t sound sorry at all. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to say how much I loved that novel.”

Felix placed his thumb on the page and looked up.

“I’m Lila Rossi, by the way.” She smiled wide, “I was the last new kid to transfer here, so I hope that we will become best friends!” She thrust her hand out to shake.

Felix flicked his eyes to her hand briefly before returning to his book. Hopefully, if he made an example out of Rossi then no one else would try to interrupt him while he read. Obviously, his hope was in vain; he made it a paragraph before she started speaking again.

“Oh! I can understand why you would want to get back to it – it’s just such a good book!” She simpered, “If you want, I could get you a signed autograph from the author the next time I see him…I was recently selected as the voice for the audiobook.”

That got his attention.

Felix trained his eyes on her, “Do go on.”

Lila grinned like the cat that got the canary, “Oh yes. I was a volunteer reader at a hospital one weekend and wouldn’t you know it? The author also happened to be visiting at the same hospital! He heard me reading his book and loved how I read it so much that I was offered on the spot to read for the audiobook!” She finished brightly.

“Well,” Felix cocked and eyebrow and pulled his lips into a half smile, “Isn’t this just a happy occurrence?”

The five minute warning bell went off and students began to file in from lunch.

“You better go to your seat Miss Rossi.” Felix said sotto voce, “Wouldn’t want to be late.”

Rossi giggled and sauntered away.

----------

Marinette fought off a groan of disappointment; Lila was back. She turned her eyes heavenward as if to ask why the gods hated her. Guess it was too much to hope for a day as perfect as yesterday. But maybe, she thought as she eyed Lila striking up a conversation with Felix, this was a hidden opportunity?

“Do you think it would be alright if I stayed here? Just for today?” Marinette timidly asked her friends.

Alya sighed, “C’mon girl, you know that Lila needs this seat.”

Marinette felt her shoulders sag slightly, knowing it was a lost battle as Adrien averted his gaze and Nino nodded along with Alya. She didn’t understand why he let them believe her lies.

The warning bell rang.

“Oh Marinette,” Lila greeted with false enthusiasm as she approached, “Do you want to finish today with your friends? I could always sit in the back with Felix.”

“Oh, but Lila,” Marinette answered in the same tone, “Don’t you have terrible hearing difficulty?”

She had her! Lila was contradicting herself!

Lila’s smile was shark-like, “It turns out that my hearing issue was a longstanding symptom of what I was sick with yesterday. But I’m much better now and would be happy to move for today! He and I already have so much in common.” Lila continued slyly, “Plus, I would love to get to know Felix more and share some of the things I wish I had known when I first got here.”

Marinette grit her teeth through her smile. She should have seen that coming.

“That sounds like it was serious.” Marinette pulled her phone out, “Would you mind telling me the name of the disease, so I can look at the symptoms? I wouldn’t want to be caught off guard.”

“I – It’s rare.” Lila hand waved, “I must have gotten it from my extensive travels.”

“I just want to know the name of what you had.” Marinette pressed, “Unless you made it up?”

“Marinette!” Alya spoke up, “That’s enough. If it’s rare then the name is probably long and hard to remember, right Lila?”

“I’m sorry I don’t remember Marinette,” Lila’s eyes started to well up, “I’ve just been suffering for so long with it, the relief of having it gone is so strong that I don’t even want to think about it anymore.”

Alya stood between Marinette and Lila to place a comforting hand on the latter’s shoulder. “Hey,” She said softly, “It’s ok. We understand.” And sent a sharp look at Marinette. “She made a nice offer. What do you say? Swap for a day?”

Marinette’s eyes darted from the empty seat to empty seat, feeling her pulse start to ebb. She bit her lip as she thought about it. It was tempting. It was what Marinette wanted. And that’s what so obviously made it a trap. She turned over what Lila said before Marinette challenged her sickness and the big picture clicked into place. Marinette felt her resolve harden – she had to warn Felix that Lila was a lying snake.

She picked up her bag. “Actually Lila, thank you but no thank you – I should sit in my assigned seat.”

Lila’s face crumpled, “I can’t believe you don’t want me to make new friends.”

Marinette placed her foot on the first step.

“I cannot believe that you would be this petty Marinette.” Alya hissed.

Marinette’s shoulders hunched but she continued upwards.

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

“She’s a liar, you know,” hissed a voice in his left ear, “Whatever she told you – it’s a lie.”

Startled, Felix realized that Marinette was sitting beside him once more. When he frowned at her, she tensed like she was preparing for a fight. His frown deepened further in response, “I’m not an idiot, thank you very much. I know a liar when I hear one.”

“How?” she demanded.

“How?” Felix questioned back sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “Pretty easy to tell it’s a lie when the author of my book has been dead for the last 20 years.”

Her laughter caught him off guard.

She couldn’t help it; the relief of having someone know that Lila was a liar paired with his deadpan delivery was too much for her. The laugh that followed came straight up from her stomach and through her mouth.

“Personally,” Felix leaned closer and murmured, “I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she realizes her mistake.”

Tears of mirth formed in Marinette’s eyes as she laughed helplessly. This was too perfect.

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

This was more what he pictured Dupain-Cheng to be like. Mirthful.

He knew that no one who wore as much pink as she did could be as serious a person as she first presented as. Felix found that he liked it better when Dupain-Cheng looked like she fully enjoying herself. He hadn’t actually meant to be funny, but once she started laughing, an impish desire had him leaning forward deliberately to see how hard he could make her laugh.

“Do you think she’ll be able to look me in the eyes once she learns?”

He grinned as the tears started to escape down her cheeks.

“How long do you think it’ll be before she can?” He practically purred.

“Twenty –” Marinette gasped, “Twenty years!” and promptly collapsed back into giggles.

His smile was toothy and full. This was too fun, he thought and raised his voice so Dupain-Cheng could hear him over her own noise, “Now quiet, you are going to disrupt class.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

“It’s nice to actually meet you.” Felix said more quietly now that she had herself mostly under control.

“Nice to meet you too.” Marinette sniffled back. She hadn’t laughed, truly laughed, like that in ages. It had felt good to sit with her friends but it felt better to be believed. Tikki was right again, Marinette thought ruefully, she wasn’t alone.

“Let’s be friends,” Marinette said a little impulsively.

“For twenty years,” Felix said warmly by way of agreement and watched with amusement how red Marinette turned as she tried to reign in her composure once more.

-----------

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Five

Whew! Glad you guys got through it. Gotta admit, there are some parts that I’m not completely happy with, but if I don’t post it now, I never will.

And fun fact! The scene where Felix is making fun of Lila is one of the scenes that initially inspired me to buck up and finally start writing.

Comments, questions, and critiques are welcome. Also, if you want to be tagged for the next part - don’t hesitate to let me know!

#felinette #marinette dupain cheng #ml felix #felix culpa #nbehtm #nbehtm pt4 #miraculous fanfic #alya salt #ml lila #lila Liar #alya is quick to judge #ml tikki #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #long post #no beta #ml salt #ml salt fic

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Brother Dearest Pt 16

It all seemed to be a blur and through a guided tour of Washington DC you took in the sights filling up another few rolls of film until you found yourself here. Once again you were in a dress chosen by another. Gina had been the one to help you choose this dress, light blue with a belt and a low dip in the cleavage with shoulders fully covered while still being sleeveless. Your Canadian uniforms were not to be worn, none were allowed actually. Among the sea of other wounded and notable soldiers you entered the line for the White house between your vest and blazer clad group joining the other men in feeling a bit under dressed while the few females with you were dressed a bit fancier. It was meant to be casual, a garden party yet all the same everyone here felt a bit out of place all the same no matter your achievements.

First Lady Bess Wallace was there in a crème lace gown beside her daughter, Margaret, an actress your age well known also for singing as well as her work on radio and screen entertainer who was well loved by the press in a yellow lace gown. Out of everyone in the line it seemed their grins lit up more in seeing you nervously spreading yours in return to mask your true feelings. You didn’t enlist and after the brief greeting following the others you listened to the tour of the building flowing out into the gardens where eyes shifted your way and those apparently knowing why you were here began to whisper the truth. Into your hand Eddie’s folded and towards your table your group walked flashing grins to the fellow soldiers there.

“Lieutenant Laslow,” with a gesture to his missing arm he said, “Ambush on our platoon in Italy, tank took out half the square we were guarding, you?”

Victor cleared his throat, “Lieutenant Colonel Creed, shot twice, brushed it off.”

That earned an impressed tick of his brow and James was next saying, “Colonel Howlett, shot twice on Normandy Beach that I can remember, saw it through to the end.”

Eddie was looked at next and he said, “Sergeant Pear, I, don’t really remember my injuries. Made it through Normandy though, all the way to the end.”

His eyes flinched to you and you flashed him another rapid grin in his head nod, “Ma’am, my apologies, manners are still rough back stateside, first name’s Lewis. What’s yours?”

“Everyone calls me Bunny Pear.”

He nodded and a smirk ghosted across his lips, “Are you enjoying the party so far? Bet you haven’t seen this many G.I’s in one place.”

“Not since I was awarded the Medal of Valor by King George in London back in September.”

“Pardon me?”

Grinning at him again you replied, “I was discharged as a Corporal Medic in the Canadian Armed Forces.”

His lips parted, “Medic?” You nodded, “How’d you get the medal?”

“I was shot three times, lasted four years, not a bad ratio for how often we were shot at.”

James nodded, “True.”

“How could they let you serve as a Medic?!”

Eddie said, “Our base was attacked first night out. Not much time to argue.”

Lt Laslow asked, “Did you at least complete your ammunitions training?”

“What is it about me wearing a dress that men automatically assume I’m a waste of resources?” You asked glancing at Eddie.

Eddie, “I think it’s the heels.”

Lt Laslow, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to insult you, it’s just, you don’t look old enough to serve. I got two girls at home myself, barely 9.”

“I was a ward of the Hospital and 16 when it was attacked. I’m 21 in July.”

Lowly he repeated, “16..” Up on his right a woman in a floral dress and two young girls showed up causing him and the other men to stand, “Everything good?”

The woman nodded, “Yes, the girls were fascinated with the soaps they had out for us.”

Lt Laslow chuckled and turned saying, “This is my wife, Christine, and our girls Moira and Marien.” Looking you over he named you all, “Lt Colonel Creed, Colonel Howlett, Sgt Pear and Corporal Bunny Pear.”

The girls giggled repeating, “Bunny?”

You nodded with a grin, “When I was little kids used to call me Jack Rabbit to make fun of my name so my mom started to call me Bunny. They stopped.”

Christine looked you over asking, “You are an Officer?”

You nodded, “Yes, I am.”

“I have to ask, if you’re Canadian forces why are you here? I thought it was just our boys.”

His wife patted his arm and Eddie said, “We were born in New York, Bunny and I. Dual citizenship.” A nod came from him and the girls dipped into an adorable round of questions through the tea and snacks being served out until the President came out.

From the moment of being spotted by those around you everyone joined in on the ripple of soldiers standing and greeting him. “Mr President” flowed from table to table he passed returning nods from him to each greeting them in return asking how those there were, hearing, “Very well, Mr President” in return. At your table he paused however saying with a grin, “I am glad you could make it Miss Pear. Mr Pear. Just a few moments.”

You nodded flashing him a grin, “Of course, Mr President.”

Looking to the confused family across from you he said, “Are you doing well today? Glad you could join us too Lt Larkin.”

“Yes, Mr President. Honored to be here today Sir.”

Watching him stroll to the table up front with boxes instantly making your heart skip. “I do apologize for my tardiness.” He said as you all sat down again, “However there seems to be so much to do this weekend for some reason. To cut to the chase we are all here to celebrate and pay our respects to men, and women go have fought honorably in defense of our country.”

One by one each table was called up with medals of distinction and honor being issued out with photographs being taken with them and their families. With yours last you watched him claim a pair of boxes he brought over and around your necks the medals were hung, yours feeling so heavy and parting your lips and those around you noticing you were given the Medal of Honor over Eddie, who didn’t mind at all preferring you getting the higher honor.

“Mr Pear, for your courage and distinction in the line of duty continuing on through several injuries and aiding in bringing down several enemy planes, trucks and tanks disabling them from further use on behalf of the United States of America we thank you and offer you this medal in gratitude.”

“Thank you, Mr President.” It wasn’t believable to many that you had been behind that but with his mechanical background he was the clearer candidate for the credit. But he would hold off on correcting him for now, at least publicly.

But Truman stepped to you lifting the Medal. “Miss Pear, how can I list all of your achievements? To have been 16 and face an attack your first night forcing you into combat with your brother is reason enough for a show of respect. But to have earned your Medic patch and the rank of Corporal is astounding. I have thanked your brother in bringing down enemy vehicles but I am aware you had aided in that feat as well. All of the other women here faced those returning to their hospitals noting the effects of the war while you aided our boys in defending our territories and advancements while patching them up. I have a distinct recollection of an encounter you had with your troop crossing paths with one of our Captains from Texas who I met just yesterday stating you disabled three German trucks and helped to bring down four planes before taking a shot from one of the captured passengers inside. Three times you were wounded in duty and refused to head home until the battles were through. On behalf of the United States of America we thank you, and offer you this medal as a sign of gratitude.”

“Thank you, Mr President.”

He shook his head, “No, thank you. You are the only woman in service to have received this medal and the only woman recorded to have made officer. You have faced terrible times and battles to get here and I am honored to have met you, and deeply saddened to have heard that you lost your brother Steve along the way.”

Another box was brought over and your heart clenched as you accepted it after he had opened it resting it onto your palm, “A Purple Heart. To honor his sacrifice.”

With a timid nod you held a semi calm tone, “Thank you, Mr President.”

A picture later and you were off to mingling keeping hold of the Medal uncertain of why you were on the verge of tears exactly. Victory Ribbons were added to your collection along with Good Conduct Medals. You didn’t need more but between your Medal of Valor and these from Truman you had gained several extra medals you had been awarded once the full reel of your so called accomplishments had been listed in full. None of it seemed to fit right though, the smiles and the clapping and gratitude for your service. Still lowly into your ear Victor rumbled, “Let the people feel big by pinning a medal on you for doing what they would have failed at.” Turning your head you caught his eye and his subtle grin and wink, “It’s just metal and ribbons, we won the battle, let them hand out their prizes and name their heroes. We’ll be home soon and off their pedestal.”

Home was coming, back to freedom and only loving pictures captured from Victor in your casual days instead of these forced poses. Against their sides you stood never feeling a lack of a hand on your side of hand, each sensing you were feeling another build of pressure at being flaunted. By the time you got back to the hotel your ears were ringing at the laughs and smiles of the men and women upon hearing the basics of a comic someone here had seen. Somehow you held your composure all through the rest of the day and the ride to the hotel through more and more pictures reminding you of muzzle flashes. Eyes closed in the elevator you turned to lean into James’ chest at his pulling you close for a hug, Eddie stood by the wall with Victor distracting him with some limerick seeing he was trembling as well.

Warm kisses peppered across your forehead while he held you close ignoring the stolen glances of the hotel elevator operator, who took the medal cases poking out of your bag as the reason for the troubled reaction. It was hard, trying to come to terms with all of this, how it could be medal worthy, what you had done, all the people you had killed. Along with the great big lie and secret you had to hide. It was innocent, a question of how you made Corporal, yet again you were seated against that wall with hot metal tearing through your shoulder after bringing down those planes. Half truths of how you had brought them down, magnets formed from scraps affecting their engines, a thrown dagger instead of a rifle contorting to tear through the shooter’s arm. It still hurt and for a moment it was hard to leave that flicker in time and still not feel that panic when you pulled back to the present again.

You wanted so badly to just go home. But there would be a dinner the following night and from the First Lady herself you heard you were to join in on the party and get a couple more tours before being able to head home again. It seemed the press had picked up about you and here like in London you were to be paraded around a bit longer. Tenderly you were helped into your pajamas and across the bed you listened to the radio station Victor had chosen, all together chatting to calm again waiting for the dinner to be brought up to your suite.

The dress arrived along with the meal, shoes and gloves as well. Off the shoulder sleeves with a tight sparkling navy blue top with accented flowers around the dip feeding into a fold of fabric reaching the layered poofy skirt in the same material with a sheer panel on the back holding the buttons down the top of your back. Matching gloves and shoes sat by them along with diamond earrings, three dangling stones ended with a sapphire each. Tuxes were brought for the men along with shoes and cufflinks.

It was going to be lavish and together you taped up your egos forcing out your best grins trying not to count down the hours until you were back to collect your things and ride the rails to Canada again.

It should have been dreadful but with several great musicians there to supply the music post opening speeches you took to the floor stealing glances up at the trombone player. The action making James purr by your ear, “Should I be jealous? You keep staring up at the stage.”

Weakly you forced out a chuckle, “I think that trombone player, I’ve seen him. I think he’s one of Steve’s favorites. Got enlisted before he could see him play.”

James nodded, “Ah, you could ask for a picture you know.”

“I know.” You said thinking back to the camera in your bag you had been carrying around looking for something worth taking up Steve’s last shot on the roll.

All the same a lull was found and with grins the musicians, fully aware of who you were grouped together expecting a song request only to fix their spots to all be in the picture you thanked the men for. From the piano player a page was torn from his music lined notepad he passed around for all the men to sign and hand over to you widening their smiles in your ample thanks to them. Though the moment of your picture by morning would be splattered all over newspapers and burned into magazines talking about the evening and returned soldiers being honored, copies of which the Brocks would send to you back in Canada.

For all his faults Steve was still your brother and you still felt that pull to try and be there for him when you could. A silent tear would roll down your cheek thinking of how hard Steve must have worked for the pocket change he had left you and how he would have been happy to get back to art school to get better pay as some artist in the few outlets available at the moment. Like a glove the warm green lands molded around you again and cuddled up to James’ side you rode the way home only to end up driving back with Victor when Eddie and James got called to help with some town celebration they were prepping. One firm kiss came in Victor’s hop down and climb into the cab finding the book jammed under the seat to keep you from sliding back.

“You alright?” The question had you glancing his way and you gave a nod, “What’s rolling around up there? You seem a bit blue.”

“Can’t help but think of what Steve would be doing if he made it.”

“Ah,”

“He used to draw in the park and sell comics to the papers to pay for us. Left art school to enlist. He was actually really good, could have been great.”

Victor slid over easing his arm behind your back to kiss your forehead, sighing out, “Brothers. Can’t live with ‘em half the time, even if you hate ‘em you still love ‘em, deep down somewhere.”

“Does it take long to develop pictures?”

You asked stealing a glance up at him and he said, “Not long. Once we get home I’ll help you see what Stevie boy captured with that camera of his.”

Leaving the bags by the door he watched you pull out the camera and held out a hand to guide you to his darkroom. Into the room he switched on the red light and showed you how to pull out the film he then added to the enlarger once the chemicals were measured out. Altering the height and focus. He showed you how to fix the positioning and make the test strip then smirked in your grin easing wider through the developing stage following his instruction to rock the mixture gently. From there you removed the image and slid it into the stop bath you rocked again, after which it would be added to the fixer mixture you would rock as well. A wash came next before he hung up the image you both looked over seeing the image of your group photo making you nip at your lip hoping Steve would have liked it.

Vince grinned saying, “One down, let’s see who else we got here.” Guiding you back to step one through the process again and again expanding the collection a puffy cheeked sax player behind him and Bucky as young teens was next followed by three more like it. Until you paused seeing a picture of you reading a book in the window, just a silhouette of the book on your lap and finger skimming across the page with hair covering almost all but your legs. “Huh,”

“Why would he take a picture of me?”

Victor hugged you kissing the side of your forehead, “It is a moment. Something struck him about it.”

“I remember that book. I’d read the rest, but I read one of her nursing manuals.” Turning back to the others you were confused seeing just another picture of him and Bucky in front of the theater with the film title cut out that they both were pointing to.

An image of a Christmas party you had attended was next, the year your mom had died, you weren’t in this image but the next one, in the dark office seated on the desk reading a book by a lamp where you had spent the night. With your fingers floating in the air just shy of your lips signaling the drop of it to turn the page in moments. A moment you weren’t coated in one of your sweaters showing off the silk dress one of Bucky’s sisters and mother had picked out for you, enough to silence the required color but far less appealing than they would have chosen for themselves. That was next to the end with five more pictures from more shows ending with the first picture taken, your mom holding the bow from the camera he had unwrapped on a random gift out of nowhere.

“I can see where you get it from.”

You glanced up at him and hugged him around his chest, “It never stops hurting does it?”

Around your back his arms looped, “Eventually, you wear the pain like a brilliant pair of shoes. It pinches and you get used to the dull throb, but you get these crystal clear moments where you forget that it hurts. And someone mentions your shoes, and it still doesn’t hurt, but every now and then, you feel a pinch again when someone scuffs them.”

“Maybe we could etch that into a plaque or something,”

Lowly he chuckled saying, “Don’t tempt me, I’ll stitch it into a pillow for you.” Making you giggle to yourself, “Come on, let’s get you changed and unpacked. Catch some fish for dinner.”

Across the counter you leaned with chin propped on your fist on the arm resting up, your body fully supported by your elbow. Foot rocking behind you as a finger on your free hand turned the page in the latest bridal magazine the girls had been leaving out after removing all other reading materials including town papers. Men were lost for their usual printed distractions also left to browsing the glossy pages due to their plotting. Still there was no ring on your finger but it was only a couple weeks since James had confirmed he would propose. From the other end of the room Dot and her cousin smirked seeing your head tilt in contemplation at the dress on the page. The lingering pause luring them closer to see you rotate the magazine so they could see the dress, ruffled skirt with a corseted top with off the shoulder sheer sleeves, one like princesses wear often in books and films.

At their arrival you asked, “Too much?”

Together they looked it over and said, “It’s perfect.”

Dot said, “Real showstopper.”

Looking it over again you said, “I think James would like it.”

Her cousin said, “Honey, he would marry you in a sack and you know it.”

“The others are nice but I don’t think I’d want silk. I do like the ruffles, and James does like how I look in a corseted gown.”

Dot said, “You have a stunning figure. The sleeves are a nice touch.”

“My mom had lace sleeves on hers.”

Dot’s cousin, “You can’t wear hers?”

“Oh, she sold it, when Steve was a kid, said they wanted it for a play, I think. Called for twenty gowns. Got five bucks for it I think.”

They both said, “Oh,” with deflating grins.

You shook your head saying, “It’s alright, wasn’t really my style. Lace shrug with a silk dress coated in strings of beads. Eddie’s aunt said it used to make the most strange noises any time she moved. Would have driven me crazy.” Making the pair giggle at your rolled eyes. Turning a few pages back you said, “I was thinking something like this for bridesmaids.”

Dot’s head tilted sideways at the sequined dress with a sheer back slit in the middle accented by face crystals around the neckline, “But that’s a wedding dress.”

“Well I read into the history of weddings bridesmaids wore wedding gowns as well, veils too so if any demons came in the ceremony they couldn’t be able to find the bride, same as the groomsmen.”

Dot’s cousin smirked at you, “I think it’s lovely. Any clue on who you want for bridesmaids?”

The question leading you with a hopeful tone making you roll your eyes, “That depends on how many guys James can round up. I know I would be expected to at least ask Eddie’s sisters.”

Dot, “Who would give you away?”

“Eddie’s pop most likely, if he can make it. I’m not certain if he can leave New York.”

They asked, “He would have to miss it?”

Softly you giggled saying in a whisper, “Between you and me he’s got a history with the law,” making them giggle, “But who knows, maybe he’ll sneak in inside a trunk or something.” Spreading their grins.

Dot, “I think it’s beautiful. We can all help, pick the flowers and set it all up, including the church, which has a lovely barn next to it for events we could set up just swell for you.”

“You don’t have to go to that much trouble.”

They both scoffed and her cousin said, “Honey, we do this for every couple. It’s sort of a welcome from town, our blessing of sorts. All of us pitching together to spare you all the trouble.”

At the misty eyed grin you gave them their hands laid on yours resting on the counter and Dot said, “We love you. And even if you spend years in the States at a hundred different schools we love you and can’t wait to help you through this. You might not have been here that long but you’re family now, and we’re not taking no for an answer.”

At the truck arriving Dot tore the pictures you chose out of the magazine and folded them to go and slip into your purse she passed to you in your move to gather your tips. You would be here just a couple months until summer would hit and you would be off back to New York for who knows how long to get your degrees. But the thought of having such a nice sendoff from your friends here who just wanted your happiness.

Home again would come with fishing and a hike while Victor insisted on handling dinner to calm down from an argument the brothers seemed to be in the middle of shunning each other afterwards. Usually it would die down after a day or so but confused in the middle of a two day stand off you spent your morning off lounging across the couch while Victor was off collecting wood with Eddie.

Tucked against James’ side your finger tapped his chest and he tried not to smirk knowing you were going to ask again what you had been hinting towards since the evening prior. “About Victor.”

Flatly he replied, “I am not talking to Victor. He could walk off the roof all I care.”

Softly you sighed and asked, “You won’t even tell me what happened?”

“Nope.” In your droop across his chest his smile inched out again knowing your brothers were off perfecting his surprise for you that the trio couldn’t think of a better way to distract you from than by having a blowout fight excusing why you weren’t all together as you usually were. An easy distraction involving little fibbing to keep facts straight on they could easily manage ample time for your privacy and theirs to ensure everything was perfect for you.

Tilting your head up your lips pressed to his jaw and he smirked at your asking, “Not even if I ask nicely?”

“I don’t believe this. Are you trying to control me with physical advances?”

Lifting up you hovered over him leaving a kiss on the top of his nose, “Depends, is it working?”

In a purr he closed the distance answering, “I’ll keep you posted.” Planting his lips on yours is what would end in his carrying you upstairs to keep you distracted while the pair returned to gather more supplies signaling with a special bird call moments prior.

Warm peppered kisses would linger through the morning until a late afternoon when a believably tense dinner would end in a huff from you making the pair both scoff and trade heartless apologies and promises to be in better moods by breakfast. Lowly however Victor said, “Don’t forget the shower tonight Jimmy.”

Flatly his brother replied in your glance between them, “I won’t. You coming?”

Victor shook his head, “Nah, seen enough of the trees for a day.” You glanced between the pair and Victor smirked at you, “Don’t you worry Pipsqueak, we’re not quarreling. You will enjoy it and you can tell me all about it in the morning.”

“Fine. But we’re doing something as a family in the morning. No grumbles.”

Eddie chuckled saying, “Oh no doubt there will be no grumbles.”

Sunset came fast and with your hand in his James led the way through the trees off into the distance stealing a glance back at you still in your blue dress from earlier though in manageable sneakers over heels. “Not far yet, got the perfect spot.”

Giddily he hopped over roots and over low laying logs he turned to lift you in his arms helping you over them stealing pecks on your cheeks making you wonder as to why he was so excited at guiding you to do more stargazing. All the same off into the distance he kept moving onwards, “We’re not going to miss it, are we?”

You asked in another move of his to lift you over another obstacle and he hummed back, “Not a chance. Not far now.” Adoringly his eyes locked onto yours and a hasty kiss was stolen by him and he nodded his head stepping back, “Just a bit longer.”

With another stolen glance your way his eyes eased over you taking in your every detail and he guided you around another set of trees making your eyes shift over the sprawling tree decorated by short candles filled glitter coated mason jars dangling from varying lengths of strands of string. Sweetly with a hand on your side James guided you a few steps to your right making you lift a hand to curl your fingers in front of your lips at the design of lit up hearts surrounding the picnic area under the tree. Walking closer you stepped onto the blanket at James’ side staring up at the branches above with paper stars dangling randomly throughout and you asked, “How are we supposed to see the stars from here?”

Turning your head James wasn’t there making you lower your gaze when James shifted your hand he was still holding to kiss the back of it. “Darling, I am utterly dreadful with this. I love you, more than I could ever say. We don’t need the stars tonight, we can do our own dancing.”

Anxiously a giggle escaped you and you asked, “You brought me out here to dance?”

“Among other things,” his free hand rose with a ring between his finger and thumb, “But you’re a bit under dressed.”

“It seems I am.” Your eyes fixed on his and never left partially ignorant of the ring he eased onto your left ring finger then promptly stood up lifting you in his arms claiming a warm kiss as he did.

Whistles sounded and claps afterwards ending the kiss turning your head to Victor snapping pictures hoping the lighting was enough to capture the moment in more than an oddly colorless blob beside Eddie who was clapping. “Bout time!”

Still staring at you James grinned wider folding his fingers a bit firmer along your ribs never wishing to let go of you again while your fingers traced lines into his upper back with subtle strokes of your other fingers against the diamond coated band on your purple heart shaped stone bearing engagement ring. Down you looked again locking eyes with your awed fiancé deepening his loving grin and gaze as you asked, “When did you manage to do all this?”

Lowly he hummed through a barely there chuckle, “I didn’t.”

“You lied to me.” You said to Victor who chuckled moving closer to you. “All of you.”

Victor chuckled in James’ setting you down and replied, “Well we had to come up with some believable excuse to keep you busy while we got all this right.” Instantly your grin split wider in his move to come closer claiming a tight hug and peck on the forehead from your future brother in law with Eddie right after him. “Had to be perfect for you.”

Eddie’s second hug came after a congratulatory pat on the back for him to deepen the awed grin on the man’s face who kept his eyes trailed on you in your moment of distraction from him, an expression Victor captured in another picture followed by another for when you peered up at him again. “Well you hit perfect on the head.”

Eddie said, “And perfect comes with snacks, come eat.” He said guiding you both over to the blanket on which you all settled, you against James’ side granting him a chance to do something other than simply stare at you. Stolen trails of his nose against your cheek came between gentle peppered kisses while your hands folded on your lap allowing you a stolen brush of your thumb against the stone making Victor smirk.

Leaning over in Eddie’s pulling out the snacks Victor grabbed a spare candle he brought closer turning your head from glancing at James to the candle at his saying, “Go on, take a gander.”

From him to the ring on your hand lit up your eyes dropped and a smile ghosted across your lips. “You picked a heart?”

James purred by your ear, “I hoped you might like it.”

“It’s so beautiful, purple too, must have cost a fortune.”

James shook his head, “My father bought it for my mother.”

Softly you asked, “Really?”

He nodded, “It wasn’t to her taste, refused to wear it, too dark,” his grin deepened with a hint of a blush, “And the cut was absurd apparently. You do like it?”

Closing the distance you kissed him warmly then hummed in a bump of your nose to his, “I love it. Thank you. Certainly won’t see another like it wandering down the street.”

Victor chuckled, “Certainly not.”

Eddie, “Bona fide antique, got to be quality not seen in ages.”

James smirked at him, “You wouldn’t be wrong. Stone’s one of a kind and it’s purer white gold than they sell nowadays.” Contently you melted against his chest treasuring the moments of being held in his arms. True nothing really had changed, it was nowhere near to a surprise to be engaged right now, to some it was just a ring but for you all it was a solid reminder that the family you had formed was becoming more solid by the day. Very soon legally impossible to divide or refute by others.

Pt 17

@changelingkhat, @alishlieb

#James Howlett x Reader OC #Victor Creed #Venom #Eddie Brock #Proposal #Wedding Plans

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lookatmerosalie · 4 years

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Love’s Consequences, Sixteen

For the first time in a hot minute, Austin and I get to just hang out in peace. Even though Tristan is in the house with us, we don't have to worry about anything, considering he knows now.

I lay across the span of the couch, my head on Austin's lap. He's seated himself at the end of the couch to allow me to stretch out fully. While I lay on him, he gently strokes my hair and face. If heaven was a place on Earth, mine would be right here, in his lap.

I look up at his face while he leans down. He makes his subtle double chin more prominent on purpose and I laugh. I poke his neck where he scrunches it together and he smiles. For a skinny guy like him, he sure does make a good double chin.

"Okay. If you could go anywhere right this moment, where would you go?" I ask him.

He thinks for a second. "Probably Italy. Probably have some family I could hunt down. Plus it's got some gorgeous views."

"Can I come too?" I smile in a cheeky way. He boops my nose.

"Yes, you have to. It's required." I smirk.

"That's what I thought."

"I have one. If you never met me and were going to guess my name based on what I look like, what would you call me?" he asks. I ponder.

"Garth, destroyer of worlds," I smile. He laughs heartily.

"Oh yeah? I look like a world destroyer?"

"For sure," I wink. "But I'd probably think you were a Matt or a Will. That seems about accurate."

"What about Austin?" he smirks.

"Even if I didn't guess it, that would be my favorite one," I grin. He leans down and kisses me on the forehead.

"Okay, your turn," he says.

Before I even get the chance to think of another question, the doorbell rings. I sigh.

Tristan comes out of his room, somewhat sleepily. Though it's already past noon, he clearly is up too early.

"I'll get it," he says. I sit up so I'm next to Austin instead of laying on him.

We quickly learn that Jade, Marie, and Josh are at the door. Nothing in this world is louder than Marie's voice, aside from Jade's voice.

I hear the two of them squeal and run up the stairs as fast as their legs can take them.

"We didn't get to see you two together much yesterday so we brought ourselves to you!" Marie cheers, taking a seat and making herself right at home. Josh stays on her arm and sits down next to her. It looks like there's nothing going on in his brain, but he seems content anyway.

Jade ends up taking a chair from the kitchen and pulling it in the living room to join us. Meanwhile, Tristan awkwardly stands in the hallway, leaning against a wall. He doesn't say anything.

"So, give us the details! How long has this been for? Did you kiss? Go on a date? When's your wedding?" Marie asks, sitting on the edge of her seat. I blush, not expecting a barrage of intrusive questions. Noticing my discomfort, Austin steps in.

"Slow down a little, you're going to hurt yourself," he smirks. "Today marks two weeks of being together."

Both Jade and Marie say "aww," nearly in unison. I can tell that this will be a long day already.

"Woah, so you guys are like... into each other?" Josh asks, totally oblivious until now.

"Yeah," I say, a little awkwardly.

"Ooh, so you're both super homo. That's cool. I've never met a gay before. Now I know two," he smiles. What a catch. Austin purses his lips and doesn't even entertain him with a response. From a distance, I can tell Tristan isn't loving him being here either.

Jade notices our awkward body language. "You guys look like you just met yesterday! Come on, show us the love!"

My face goes even more crimson. Austin notices my tension and says, "We're not actors putting on a show, we're people." Jade cringes, feeling bad.

"Sorry, we're just really excited to see you guys together. We think you'd work really well as a couple," she says.

"I agree," I say, trying to break the tension. They laugh.

Marie gasps. "We should all go on a triple date! Me and Josh, Jade and Liam, and you two!"

Tristan glares. "Sounds fun," he chides.

Marie turns around to face him, oblivious. "Yeah! And you can come with... uh... yourself?"

Tristan, even more pissed off, stomps off into his room and shuts the door behind him.

"What's his deal?" Marie asks. I roll my eyes. How can someone be so blind?

Jade pauses for a moment. "Hey, Sammy never showed up. Is she busy or something?" she asks Marie. She shrugs in response. I look down.

"Sammy needs some time away from us," I sigh. Austin looks at me, curious.

"Wait, what did we do?" Jade asks nervously. I shake my head.

"She had a crush on Austin, and he started dating me instead. She needs time to be away from us. Especially us together," I explain. Jade frowns.

"I had no idea."

Austin shifts awkwardly, not seeming to want to dwell on the topic.

"Anyway, we just wanted to stop by to see you guys. You wanna come join us? We're going on some errands," Marie asks.

"I think we're gonna pass. Thanks though," I tell them, lightly rubbing Austin's back.

The three of them get up and we say our goodbyes. Austin lets out a sigh, given the reopened wound about Sammy.

"Is she mad at me? Or you?" he asks, feeling guilty again. I purse my lips.

"I can't say she's the happiest with either of us. But I did talk to her yesterday. You might need to as well," I let him know.

"You're right. I'll get in touch."

The two of us continue to sit together, but both of us linger on all the stress we've been dealing with quietly. I lean my head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around me. At least, through all of the hard stuff, we have each other.

Tristan comes back out, still seeming angry, but a little less than earlier. He sits on one of the couches and says, "It's like she's trying to make me mad. What did I ever do to her?"

"As much as I love Marie, she isn't always the most attentive. She's totally oblivious, man. You have to talk to her instead of getting mad," Austin says, a little irked. Tristan simmers quietly.

We all sit in silence for a few minutes. Once we hear the garage door open, however, Austin and I shift away from each other a bit once again.

Mr. Jacobs comes up the stairs, seeming giddy.

"Oh, hey guys. Wasn't expecting all three of you," he smiles.

"Hey dad. How was your day?" Austin asks.

He grins. "Well, I ran into this woman today."

Austin and Tristan both look at each other, apprehensive. Their dad notices.

"Come on now, listen to this. She noticed my shirt and complimented it. We walked around the store together for a while and I got her number!" he says, leaning against the couch.

"I'm happy for you, dad. I hope it goes well," Austin says, still a little wary.

Tommy Jacobs has been a single dad for 16 years. If you asked either brother to pick their mother out of a lineup, they probably wouldn't be able to. Tommy never had much luck with women, but it doesn't help that his high school sweetheart ended up being mentally unstable and unfaithful. She's out somewhere now, probably across the country, continuing to take the easy way out and bailing on her sons.

From what both Austin and Tristan have told me, their dad has a knack for finding a lot of divorced women looking for a quick rebound. As kind of a man as he is, he hasn't found that right person. I imagine having a failed marriage with two children resulting didn't help anything.

"I know you both think it won't last. That doesn't mean I can't stay positive and keep looking," he sighs. Austin nods.

"We just don't want you to keep getting hurt."

Mr. Jacobs purses his lips. "Life is an uphill battle, and you'll come to realize this more and more as you get further along in it. But if you don't give effort, you'll end up rolling back down the hill and find yourself all the way back at the bottom." He pauses. "Someday I will find that right woman. Even if it doesn't seem like it now."

He walks down the hallway and leaves us back to our own company.

"He's right," I say.

Austin looks at me curiously.

"All of us have to keep trying. Tristan has to talk to Marie. We have to be with each other without fear. Even if we can't come out," I tell them. Tristan's face softens and Austin leans his head on my shoulder.

"Even if we can't come out," he repeats, rubbing my back lightly.

#love #romance #romantic comedy #comedy #teen #teen fiction #fiction #high school #bxb #gay #lgbt #sixteen #love's consequences

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pamphletstoinspire · 4 years

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EXALTATION OF THE HOLY CROSS

September 14 - Today is the feast day of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.

Today’s feast is a triumphant liturgy— a day in which red is worn to symbolize the glorious and saving sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross. The Church sings of the triumph of the Cross—no longer an instrument of death and torture—but the powerful and glorious instrument of our redemption. To follow Christ we must take up His cross, follow Him and become obedient until death, even if it means death on the cross. We identify with Christ on the Cross and become co-redeemers, sharing in His cross.

The Cross could not be decently mentioned amongst Romans, who looked upon it as an unlucky omen, and as Cicero says, not to be named by a freeman. However, the Emperor Constantine attributed his victory in the Quintian fields, near the bridge Milvius, to the Cross of the Christians, the inscription of which he caused to be put under his statue with which the senate honoured him in Rome, as Eusebius testifies. The same historian mentions that in his triumph, he did not mount the capitol, to offer sacrifices and gifts to the false gods, according to the custom of his predecessors, but “by illustrious inscriptions promulgated the power of Christ’s saving sign.”

EXHALTATION OF THE HOLY CROSS. Adapted from The Liturgical Year by Abbot Gueranger

“Through Thee the precious Cross is honored and worshiped throughout the world.” Thus did Saint Cyril of Alexandria praise Our Lady on the morrow of that great day, which saw Her Divine Maternity vindicated at Ephesus. Eternal Wisdom has willed that the Octave of Mary's Birth should be honored by the celebration of this Feast of the triumph of the Holy Cross. The Cross indeed is the standard of God's armies, whereof Mary is the Queen; it is by the Cross that She crushes the serpent's head, and wins so many victories over error, and over the enemies of the Christian name.

“By this sign thou shalt conquer.” Satan had been suffered to try his strength against the Church by persecution and tortures; but his time was drawing to an end. By the edict of Sardica, which emancipated the Christians, Galerius, when about to die, acknowledged the powerlessness of Hell. Now was the time for Christ to take the offensive, and for His Cross to prevail. Towards the close of the year 311, a Roman army lay at the foot of the Alps, preparing to pass from Gaul into Italy. Constantine, its commander, together with his soldiers, already belonged henceforward to the Lord of hosts. The Son of the Most High, having become the Son of Mary, King of this world, was about to reveal Himself to His first lieutenant, and, at the same time, to discover to His first army the standard that was to go before it. Above the legions, in a cloudless sky, the Cross, proscribed for three long centuries, suddenly shone forth; all eyes beheld it, making the western sun, as it were, its footstool, and surrounded with these words in characters of fire: IN HOC VINCE: By this sign conquer! A few months later, October 27, 312, all the idols of Rome stood aghast to behold, approaching along the Flaminian Way, beyond the bridge Milvius, the Labarum with its sacred monogram, now become the standard of the imperial armies. On the morrow was fought the decisive battle, which opened the gates of the eternal City to Christ, the only God, the everlasting King.

“O great and admirable mystery!” cries out Saint Augustine. “He must increase, but I must decrease, said John, said the voice which personified all the voices that had gone before announcing the Father's Word Incarnate in His Christ. Every word, in that it signifies something, in that it is an idea, an internal word, is independent of the number of syllables, of the various letters and sounds; it remains unchangeable in the heart that conceives it, however numerous may be the words that give it outward existence, the voices that utter it, the languages, Greek, Latin and the rest, into which it may be translated. To him who knows the word, expressions and voices are useless. The prophets were voices, the Apostles were voices; voices are in the psalms, voices in the Gospel. But let the Word come, the Word Who was in the beginning, the Word Who was with God, the Word Who was God; when we shall see Him as He is, shall we hear the Gospel repeated? Shall we listen to the prophets? Shall we read the Epistles of the Apostles? The voice fails where the Word increases… Not that in Himself the Word can either diminish or increase. But He is said to grow in us, when we grow in Him. To him, then, who draws near to Christ, to him who makes progress in the contemplation of wisdom, words are of little use; of necessity they tend to fail altogether. Thus the ministry of the voice falls short in proportion as the soul progresses towards the Word; it is thus that Christ must increase and John decrease. The same is indicated by the beheading of John, and the exaltation of Christ upon the Cross; as it had already been shown by their birthdays: for, from the birth of John the days begin to shorten, and from the birth of Our Lord they begin to grow longer.”

“Hail, O Cross, formidable to all enemies, bulwark of the Church, strength of princes; hail in thy triumph! The sacred Wood still lay hidden in the earth, yet it appeared in the heavens announcing victory; and an emperor, become Christian, raised it up from the bowels of the earth.” Thus sang the Greek Church yesterday, in preparation for the joys of today; for the East, which has not our Feast of May 3, celebrates on this one solemnity both the overthrow of idolatry by the sign of salvation revealed to Constantine and his army, and the discovery of the Holy Cross a few years later in the cistern of Golgotha.

But another celebration, the memory of which is fixed by the Menology on September 13, was added in the year 335 to the happy recollections of this day; namely the Dedication of the Basilicas raised by Constantine on Mount Calvary and over the Holy Sepulcher, after the precious discoveries made by his mother, Saint Helena. In the very same century that witnessed all these events, a pious pilgrim, thought to be Saint Silva, sister of Rufinus the minister of Theodosius and Arcadius, attested that the anniversary of this Dedication was celebrated with the same solemnity as Easter and the Epiphany. There was an immense concourse of bishops, clerics, monks, and laity of both sexes, from every province; and the reason, she says, is that the “Cross was found on this day”; which motive had led to the choice of the same day for the first consecration, so that the two joys might be united into one.

Saint Sophronius, the holy Patriarch of Jerusalem, proclaimed: “It is the Feast of the Cross; who would not exult? It is the triumph of the Resurrection; who would not be full of joy? Formerly, the Cross led to the Resurrection; now it is the Resurrection that introduces us to the Cross. Resurrection and Cross: trophies of our salvation!” And the Pontiff then developed the instructions resulting from this connection.

It appears to have been about the same time that the West also began to unite in a certain manner these two great mysteries; leaving to September 14 the other memories of the Holy Cross, the Latin churches introduced into Paschal Time a special Feast of the Finding of the Wood of Redemption. In compensation, the present solemnity acquired a new luster to its character of triumph by the contemporaneous events which form the principal subject of the historical lessons in the Roman liturgy.

A century earlier, Saint Benedict had appointed this day for the commencement of the period of penance knows as the monastic Lent, which continues till the opening of Lent proper, when the whole Christian army joins the ranks of the cloister in the campaign of fasting and abstinence. “The Cross,” says Saint Sophronius, “is brought before our minds; who will not crucify himself? The true worshiper of the sacred Wood is he who carries out his worship in his deeds.”

The following are the lessons we have already alluded to:

About the end of the reign of the Emperor Phocas, Chosroes king of the Persians invaded Egypt and Africa. He then took possession of Jerusalem; and after massacring there many thousand Christians, he carried away into Persia the Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ, which Saint Helena had placed upon Mount Calvary. Phocas was succeeded in the Empire by Heraclius; who, after enduring many losses and misfortunes in the course of the war, sued for peace, but was unable to obtain it even upon disadvantageous terms, so elated was Chosroes by his victories. In this perilous situation he applied himself to prayer and fasting, and earnestly implored God's assistance. Then, admonished from Heaven, he raised an army, marched against the enemy, and defeated three of Chosroes' generals with their armies.

Subdued by these disasters, Chosroes took to flight; and, when about to cross the river Tigris, named his son Medarses his associate in the kingdom. But his eldest son Sisroes, bitterly resenting this insult, plotted the murder of his father and brother. He soon afterwards overtook them in flight, and put them to death. Sisroes then had himself recognized as king by Heraclius, on certain conditions, the first of which was to restore the Cross of Our Lord. Thus, 14 years after It had fallen into the hands of the Persians, the Cross was recovered; and on his return to Jerusalem, Heraclius, with great pomp, bore It back on his own shoulders to the Mount whither Our Savior had carried It.

This event was signalized by a remarkable miracle. Heraclius, attired as he was in robes adorned with gold and precious stones was forced to stand still at the gate which led to Mount Calvary. The more he endeavored to advance, the more he seemed fixed to the spot. Heraclius himself and all the people were as-tounded; but Zacharias, the Bishop of Jerusalem, said: Consider, O Emperor, how little thou imitatest the poverty and humility of Jesus Christ, by carrying the Cross clad in triumphal robes. Heraclius there-upon laid aside his magnificent apparel, and barefoot, clothed in poor attire, he easily completed the rest of the way, and replaced the Cross in the same place on Mount Calvary, whence It had been carried off by the Persians. From this event, the Feast of the Exultation of the Holy Cross, which was celebrated yearly on this day, gained fresh luster, in memory of the Cross being replaced by Heraclius on the spot where it had first been set up for Our Savior.

The victory thus chronicled in the sacred books of the Church was not the last triumph of the Holy Cross; nor were the Persians Its latest enemies. At the very time of the defeat of these fire-worshiping pagans, the prince of darkness was raising up a new standard—the crescent. By the permission of God, Islam also was about to try its strength against the Cross: a two-fold power, the sword and the seduction of the passions. But here again, in the secret combats between the soul and Satan, as well as in the great battles recorded in history, the final success was due to the weakness and folly of Calvary.

The Cross was the rallying-standard of all Europe in those sacred expeditions which borrowed from It their beautiful title of Crusades, and which exalted the Christian name in the East. While on the one hand the Cross was warding off degradation and ruin, on the other It was preparing the conquest of new continents; so that it was by the Cross that the West remained at the head of nations, rather than beneath the foot of the crescent. Through the Cross, the warriors in these glorious campaigns are inscribed on the first pages of the golden book of nobility. The orders of chivalry, which claimed to hold among their ranks the elite of the human race, looked upon the Cross as the highest mark of merit and honor.

O adorable Cross, our glory and our love here on earth, save us on the day when thou shalt appear in the heavens, when the Son of Man, seated in His majesty, is to judge the world!

THE EXALTATION OF THE HOLY CROSS BY FATHER FRANCIS XAVIER WENINGER, 1876

This festival was instituted in commemoration of the day on which the holy Cross of Christ, was, with great solemnities, brought back to Jerusalem. Chosroes, king of Persia, had invaded Syria with a powerful army, and had conquered Jerusalem, the capital. He caused the massacre of eighty thousand men, and also took many prisoners away with him, among whom was the Patriarch Zachary. But more painful than all this to the Christians was, that he carried away the holy, Cross of our Saviour, which, after great pains, had been discovered by the holy empress, St. Helena. The pagan king carried it with him to Persia, adorned it magnificently with pearls and precious stones, and placed it upon the top of his royal throne of pure gold. Thus was the holy Cross held in higher honor by the heathen king, than Martin Luther would have manifested; for, in one of his sermons, he says of it: “If a piece of the holy Cross were given to me and I had it in my hand, I would soon put it where the sun would never shine on it.”

Heraclius, the pious emperor, was greatly distressed at this misfortune, and as he had not an army sufficiently large to meet so powerful an enemy, he made propositions for peace. Chosroes, inflated by many victories, refused at first to listen to the emperor's proposal, but at length consented, on condition that Heraclius should forsake the faith of Christ and worship the Sun, the god of the Persians. Indignant at so wicked a request, the emperor, seeing that it was a question of religion, concerning the honor of the Most High, broke off all negotiation with his impious enemy. Taking refuge in prayer, he assembled all the Christian soldiers of his dominions, and commanded all his subjects to appease the wrath of the Almighty, and ask for His assistance, by fasting, praying, giving alms and other good works. He himself gave them the example. After this, he went courageously, with his comparatively small army, to meet the haughty Chosroes, having given strict orders that his soldiers, besides abstaining from other vices, should avoid all plundering and blaspheming, that they might prove themselves worthy of the divine assistance.

Taking a crucifix in his hand, he animated his soldiers by pointing towards it, saying they should consider for whose honor they were fighting, and that there was nothing more glorious than to meet death for the honor of God and His holy religion. Thus strengthened, the Christian army marched against the enemy. Three times were they attacked by three divisions of the Persian army, each one led by an experienced general; and three times they repulsed the enemy, so that Chosroes himself had at last to flee. His eldest son, Siroes, whom he had excluded from the succession to the throne, seized the opportunity, and not only assassinated his own father, but also his brother, Medarses, who had been chosen by Chosroes as his associate and successor. To secure the crown which he had thus forcibly seized, Siroes offered peace to Heraclius, restored to him the conquered provinces, and also sent back the holy Cross, the patriarch Zachary, and all the other prisoners of war. Heraclius, in great joy, hastened with the priceless wood to Jerusalem, to offer due thanks to the Almighty for the victory, and to restore the holy Cross, which the Persians had kept in their possession during fourteen years, to its former place.

All the inhabitants of the city, the clergy and laity, came to meet the pious emperor. The latter had resolved to carry the Cross to Mount Calvary, to the church fitted up for its reception. A solemn procession was formed, in which the Patriarch, the courtiers and an immense multitude of people took part. The clergy preceded, and the emperor, arrayed in sumptuous robes of state, carried the holy Cross upon his shoulder. Having thus passed through the city, they came to the gate that leads to Calvary, when suddenly the emperor stood still and could not move from the spot. At this miracle, all became frightened, not knowing what to think of it. Only to St. Zachary did God reveal the truth. Turning to the emperor the patriarch said: “Christ was not arrayed in splendor when He bore His Cross through this gate. His brow was not adorned with a golden crown, but with one made of thorns. Perhaps, O emperor, your magnificent robe is the cause of your detention.”

The pious Heraclius humbly gave ear to the words of the patriarch, divested himself of his imperial purple, and put on poor apparel, he took the crown from his head and the shoes from his feet. Having done this, the sacred treasure was again laid on his shoulder: when, behold! nothing detained him, and he carried it to the place of its destination. The holy patriarch then deposited the Cross in its former place, and duly venerated it with all who were present. God manifested how much He was pleased with the honor they had paid to the holy Cross of Christ, by many miracles wrought on the same day. A dead man was restored to life by being touched by the sacred wood; four paralytic persons obtained the use of their limbs; fifteen who were blind received sight; many sick recovered their health; and several possessed were freed from the devil by devoutly touching it.

#exaltation of the holy cross

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gigi-sinclair · 4 years

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Cendrillon (crossover with “Versailles”, Guillaume/Thomas Jopson, rated G)

Blame it on @rubysharkruby, and specifically this gifset. Also, I believe it was @oochilka who said “a Thomas Jopson for every Matthew McNulty character”, and I can thoroughly get behind that.

If you haven’t seen “Versailles”, I would say Guillaume is more or less a 17th century French Edward Little. The poor guy just wants to do his job.

For the @theterrorbingo Free Space, and my third Bingo!!!

“I hear you are cobbler to the King.”

Guillaume looks up from the tannery workbench. In front of him stands the most beautiful man he's ever seen, tall and dark-haired. He's dressed simply, as a servant, but he is as lovely as any aristocratic flower Guillaume has glimpsed at Versailles.

“We work for all sorts of people,” Jeanne calls across the workshop. The man glances at her. “None of our clients have ever been dissatisfied.”

“But you are correct,” Guillaume says, bringing the man's startling blue gaze back to him. “We are fortunate enough to have a position at court.” At least until the King catches wind of Jeanne's disloyal sentiments.

“My master is in sore need of new shoes.” He has an accent, Guillaume remarks. English, although his French is very good. “But I am afraid he dislikes leaving home. I would be most grateful if somebody could go to him.”

Guillaume is far too busy with the King and the orders from court these days to take on such errands himself, but he finds himself strangely loath to assign the task to someone else.

“Where do you live?”

“My master's home is outside Menuls-lès-Saint-Cloud.” A fair ride from the workshop. A trip out there would certainly take more time than Guillaume has to spend.

“I can come tomorrow afternoon.” He can sense Jeanne's eyebrows go up, but ignores her. It's easy enough to do when the man bestows upon him a smile dazzling enough to put butterflies in Guillaume's stomach and palpitations in his heart. He even has dimples, Guillaume notes, with simultaneous despair and elation. He has always been inordinately fond of dimples.

“Thank you, monsieur. He is a very particular gentleman, he only wants the best.” The man gives Guillaume a look that can only be described as meaningful. Even after his experiences at court, where volumes are spoken with looks and gestures, Guillaume does not possess the skills to discern that meaning. He takes the address, and bids the man a farewell which is ridiculously forlorn, given they are complete strangers.

As soon as he is gone, Guillaume hears Jeanne scoff.

“You have something to say, dear sister?”

“Merely that I am pleased to see you taking work for someone other than His Majesty. And that your familiarity with the Duc d'Orléans seems to have affected you in more ways than one.” This meaning could not be clearer, and she could not be more wrong.

Guillaume knows of Philippe's proclivities, naturally. Those same proclivities lived in Guillaume long before he met Philippe. He wonders, at times, if that was what encouraged friendship to blossom between them, even more than their shared experiences in the war.

“If you are short of work, Jeanne, I'm certain I can find you something to do.” His tone is less imperious than he would like, but she says no more.

***

The mysterious gentleman's home is a moderately sized villa, tidy with a well-kept garden. It is not the home of an aristocrat, but nor is it a place for a pauper. The handsome servant himself greets Guillaume at the door.

Overnight, Guillaume almost managed to convince himself he had exaggerated the man's appearance. He, who had seemed an angel on Earth in the tannery, would no doubt appear ordinary or even plain in the light of day.

Guillaume was wrong. The man is as lovely now as he was yesterday. As he greets Guillaume with another of those astonishing smiles, Guillaume hears himself ask, “What is your name?”

“Jopson, monsieur. Thomas.” He says it the English way. Tom-mass. It is utterly delightful.

“I am Guillaume,” Guillaume tells him, as Thomas leads him into the house.

“Yes,” Thomas replies. Amusement colours his voice. “I know.”

A man awaits them in the drawing room. Although the weather is mild, he sits before the fire. Like the house itself, this room is well-kept without being extravagant, with tall bookshelves against several of the walls, and paintings of seascapes on the others. The gentleman is not elderly, but Guillaume recognizes the ravages of drink on his face.

“Captain Crozier,” Thomas says, in English. Guillaume can understand a little, although he would never attempt to speak it. “We are honoured with a visit from the King's shoemaker.”

Crozier casts his eyes across Guillaume's person, then snorts. “All right, then. Let's get on with it.”

Captain Crozier—given the seascapes, Guillaume assumes he is a naval captain, or was one, rather than an army captain—suffers from severe bunions. He winces as Guillaume measures his feet, although Guillaume is as gentle as possible. After marching for years with his own troops, this is a condition with which Guillaume has great sympathy.

“Tell him,” Guillaume says to Thomas, as he wraps up his measuring tape, “I will make him the most comfortable shoes he has ever owned.”

His words make Thomas' eyes light up. At once, Guillaume wishes to do that again, and again. “Oh, that would be very much appreciated.” Thomas repeats the sentence in English to the captain, who laughs derisively.

“He wouldn’t be the first to say that. But I welcome his attempt.” The captain's gaze goes to Thomas. “Why don't you have a pair made yourself, as well, Thomas?”

“Me, sir?”

“If his shoes are as good as he claims, then you surely deserve some of your own. You're on your feet far more than I.”

A fetching blush comes to Thomas' cheeks. “That's very kind, sir.” He turns to Guillaume. “My master has kindly offered me a pair of my own. If you don't mind...”

“Not at all.”

Thomas sits on the nearest chair, and removes his current shoes. They are of very poor quality, badly made to begin with and crudely patched on top of that. Guillaume wishes he had brought a pair of completed shoes for Thomas to wear while his are being made.

Guillaume has seen a lot of feet in his time. In and of themselves, they have never interested him, but Thomas' feet are strangely fascinating.

Guillaume bites his lip, striving to maintain the highest level of professionalism. The level that has kept him at court, even if Philippe's influence was obviously what first opened the door. He takes Thomas' measurements as briskly and efficiently as he did his master's, until he arrives at Thomas' left instep.

It is high. Before he can consider what he's doing, Guillaume traces it with his index finger. Even through Thomas' stocking, Guillaume can feel the heat of his body. He twitches, but does not pull his foot away. Rather, he pushes back, just a little, then raises his gaze to meet Guillaume's.

Guillaume feels his own face heat to match the blush darkening Thomas'. He pulls his hand away.

“I shall deliver the shoes myself, once completed.” The vow is rash. He might be called to Versailles at any time.

“I look forward to it, monsieur,” Thomas replies, in a low voice that does not quite suit a conversation about shoes.

***

As promised, the shoes Guillaume makes for Thomas and his master are among the finest he's created. The leather is richly tanned, supple beneath his fingers, and the stitching is exquisite, if he does say so himself. For all his sins, Guillaume is not usually a prideful man. He is proud of these shoes, and excited to present them to their new owners.

To one of their new owners in particular. He smiles to himself on the ride up to Menuls-lès-Saint-Cloud. He would say he feels as giddy as a schoolboy, but Guillaume was always a serious child.

“Good afternoon, monsieur!” Guillaume did not write ahead to announce his arrival, but Thomas greets him as if he was expected. “I'm afraid Captain Crozier has taken ill.”

“I hope it is nothing serious.”

A delicate frowns settles upon Thomas' forehead. “No,” he says, sounding tired. “It is quite usual.”

There is nothing to be said to that. “I have your shoes.” Guillaume holds up the bag in his hand. It seems an idiotic statement—why else would he have come?—but Thomas brightens, the frown disappearing.

“Please, do come in. I'm so eager to see them.”

He takes Guillaume to the same room they were in before. Guillaume sets aside the shoes made for the captain, and unveils Thomas' pair. “They're wonderful!” Thomas exclaims. “Might I try them?”

“Of course.” The prudent course of action would be to hand the shoes to Thomas, to let him put them on himself. Instead, Guillaume says, “Please, sit.”

Guillaume has spent a great deal of his life as a supplicant. Before God, before the King. It feels just as natural to go to his knees before Thomas, to take one of his stocking-clad feet in hand and slide it into the shoe. The fit, of course, is exact.

“My goodness.” Guillaume looks up. Thomas' cheeks are rosy, his lips parted in a way that makes Guillaume feel quite warm. “That's lovely.” He clears his throat, as Guillaume sets down that foot and takes up his other one. “In Italy, the captain and I heard a story about a lady who flees from a royal ball, and is found again by the perfect fit of a slipper she left behind. Do you know the tale?”

“I have heard a similar one at court.” Guillaume remembers Philippe recounting it to him, thinking, no doubt, that the subject matter would appeal.

Thomas holds his gaze. “Then you will know that the one who returns her slipper is a charming prince. Like you, Guillaume.”

Guillaume swallows. “I am far from a prince.”

“Perhaps.” He reaches out to rest his hand on Guillaume's shoulder. His touch is light. Still, it makes Guillaume's heart beat faster. “But I find you very charming indeed.”

He moves slowly. Guillaume has ample opportunity to shift away, to get up and leave, to reject what Thomas is clearly offering. He does none of that. Instead, he allows Thomas to sit on the floor beside him, to take Guillaume in his arms, and, finally, to press a kiss, soft and tentative, against Guillaume's lips.

Despite the circles he now moves in, despite his close friendship with the King's only brother, Guillaume is a simple man. He is not ashamed of that. There is a natural hierarchy to the world, and Guillaume is well aware of his place within it.

And my place at the moment, he thinks, wrapping his arms about Thomas and returning kiss with ardour, is exactly where I am now.

#theterrorbingo

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tsuki-chibi · 5 years

Text

AU Yeah August Day 19: Roadtrip

This is a continuation of Ladrien June Day 30: Paris.

————

Ladybug spent the night curled up in his arms. But when Adrien woke up the next morning, she was gone. He dressed, ate breakfast alone, and went to school with a lighter heart. If nothing else, he was relieved that he’d eased his lady’s burden in at least one way.

Everyone in the class was chatting when he walked in. Adrien took his seat just in time to hear the tail-end of Lila repeating the same details about her Russia trip as what she’d said yesterday, and privately rolled his eyes.

“What about you, Dude?” Nino asked, punching Adrien lightly in the arm. “Made up your mind? What did your dad say?”

“Yeah. Sorry, Nino, it’s not gonna happen,” Adrien said. As fun as the trip sounded, there was just no way he could go. Truthfully he hadn’t even bothered to ask Gabriel, but his father was a convenient excuse.

Nino sighed but nodded. “I kinda figured that would be the case. I know your dad is a dick but you should really let loose once in a while. We won’t be young forever.”

“I just can’t right now,” Adrien said. He turned his head, attention immediately captured, as Marinette wandered in.

She looked beautiful this morning, her hair pulled back into a messy bun and eyes bright behind a take away cup of coffee. She was wearing black pants and a bright red top, which was unusual for her. She didn’t usually wear red.

Adrien hoped against hope that there was something more behind her decision to wear red today, and sat up straight as she neared. He felt like a puppy wagging his tail for attention, but he couldn’t help himself.

“What about you, Mari?” Alya asked eagerly, nearly knocking Nino’s cap off as she waved her hands. “Did you ask your parents? Our roadtrip is a go, right?”

Marinette set another cup of coffee on Adrien’s desk, along with a small bag that smelled of delicious, flaky pastry goodness. She met his eyes and smiled even as she blushed a little, and this time her smile reached her eyes.

“Sorry, Alya. I can’t go. I’m needed in Paris this summer,” she said.

Alya frowned, looking disappointed. “Why? Don’t you wanna have one last summer of fun together before we have to become grown-ups?”

“Of course I do,” Marinette said. “But -”

“Then come with me! It’ll be so cool. I’ve got it all planned out. We’re gonna start with Italy and then head up to -”

“I can’t,” Marinette said, a little more firmly this time.

“But why? What could be so important that you’re gonna stay here instead of coming with me on an amazing trip?!” Alya demanded.

“We’re planning our wedding this summer.”

The words were out before Adrien could stop them. Marinette’s mouth dropped open. So did Nino’s. Alya made a weird, high-pitched sound that didn’t sound completely human - shades of Trixx, no doubt. Everyone else just stared.

“What?” Marinette said faintly.

“What?!” Alya screeched, so loud that Marinette’s whisper went unheard.

“Dude!” Nino exclaimed. “Marinette is your secret girlfriend?!”

“I think so,” Adrien said, which was probably an odd answer to anyone besides him and Marinette. But that was alright. He turned to her and held out his hand.

Alya, who was almost hyperventilating by this point, grabbed for her phone and held it up to record them. Adrien didn’t pay her much attention. His sole focus was on his partner.

He and Ladybug has been dating for just over two years. Adrien had known for almost three and a half that she was the woman he wanted to marry. Figuring out who she was just made him all the more determined.

There was wonder and awe in those familiar blue eyes as Marinette took his hand. Adrien brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. Her smile broadened until it stretched from ear to ear.

“Silly kitty, you didn’t even ask first,” she chided lightly, and Adrien’s heart thumped madly in his chest.

It was her. It was really her.

“I’m asking now,” Adrien said. “We can go shopping for rings immediately after school.”

“Yes,” Marinette said, blushing.

“Oh my god!” Alya screamed out amongst many other cries of surprise and shouts of congratulations. Chloé didn’t look happy, of course, but it was Lila who was dramatically throwing her hands up and crying.

Adrien was deaf to all of them as he got up and pulled Marinette into a sweet kiss. She tasted of coffee and chocolate, and he couldn’t stop from grinning. She giggled and nuzzled their noses together.

“What gave me away?” she asked in a whisper.

“I always told you I’d know you,” Adrien said confidently. “It just took me a little while longer to figure it out.”

And he kissed her again to prove it.

#auyeahaugust #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #one sided identity reveal #sort of #confirmation of a reveal #proposal #adrien is a romantic goofball

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kaibacxrps · 4 years

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Introducing your partner

Discord thread with @kaibacorpbros / @indioragod ! CW: scandal.shipping.

It was one of his several returning trips since the first time he knocked down the doors to Atem's realm. They had gradually grown a little less arduous, but there were still plenty of bugs to work out with such a jump. Thus, a big reason why he brought along Diva. And besides, if he were getting the help of the ex-Plana member, he should probably at least know that the goal Seto had originally employed him for wasn't just some vague, unreachable dream.

But gods, it was nice to talk to Set again. He'd taken some time alone with the priest to update him on what had been going on in his and Mokuba's lives.

Except... one detail.

The detail they ran into at the end of their stroll. Wait, how long have we been talking? Diva must have gotten impatient and sought them out. It would have been hard to spot, for someone who hadn't grown to know him better, but Kaiba noticed how Diva's fingers were slightly curled and his posture a bit stiff. He was sure if he poked into the vitals the tech he was wearing was monitoring he'd find an increased pulse.

"I was looking for you. I ran into your rival, Seto."

Oh. That was it. Seto cleared his throat. "I see. Well, I'm sure he was glad to finally meet you." The CEO moved on from that point before Diva could say any more. Best to just introduce him, even though he didn't know the two had already run into each other.

"Erm, Set this is Diva, he--" 'Tried to kill me' probably wasn't the best way to introduce him. Or say he once turned into a big rage monster and did kill him, albeit briefly.

"He's a friend helping me improve the Dimension System and set up some way to communicate other than travelling all the way here each time."

It was always a pleasure to receive Kaiba in the afterlife, at least for Set it has always been like that. How could he not? They have been through a lot, and have found a way to stay in touch - something that went against all the odds.

He felt so relieved to still be part of the brothers lives, albeit in a very restricted way. But it always felt nice hearing, what those two have been up to.

Meanwhile, he has been going through a lot lately as well. However, due to the nature of those things and out of fear of Kaiba's reaction, he would keep them a secret... For the time being. Thank the Gods, Seto never had any interest in his culture and costumes, otherwise he would be able to tell something at his first glance on him.

The priest slowed down his walking pace until he stopped, when Diva showed up. They didn't need any introductions, this was obvious in the way they exchanged glances.

The way Kaiba described Diva however, was humurous in the priest's eyes but at the same time pretty telling. Kaiba and friends?... Give him a break

"I see- oh don't worry about any formalities, Seto... Those aren't needed around here." A brief pause came in right afterwards what he had just said. "So... There won't be any trouble then? You'll be able to stay here for longer, right? It would be an honor, to have you for supper. I even went ahead, and have for it an animal I hunt earlier today."

As soon as the words left the priest's lips Diva shot a look at Kaiba. Do not.

But of couse, implication between humans was flawed, and even if it weren't Seto likely wouldn't have said no simply because he got to see Set so little.

"Correct, we should have..." the HUD glowed to life in front of Kaiba's eye, showing the status of the duel dimension machine. "A few more hours at least."

"Kaiba, what about that project?" Diva tried.

"Oh, it'll be fine. I got a lot done on it yesterday." With that dismission of Diva's concerns it was settled.

"We'd be greatful to stay for a meal." Seto gestured that they would follow the priest. "What did you catch by the way?" Not that Kaiba was much into the sport, but he knew Set took pride in it. And everything, seemed to ignore Diva's growing tension. One, if they got found out. Seto hadn't told the spirt yet--at least not that Diva knew of. Two, to add to the awkwardness he's pretty sure now that he met Atem, that some of the Pharaoh's attire was following a certain custom that Set's attire was also following.

Kaiba must not know what it meant.

But Diva just offers a polite smile, "I thank you for your hospitality then."

“Oh, you’ll definetely like it! This is something you most certainly, can’t find anywhere in Japan.” The priest pointed out with bright smile on his face, as he led the way and purposely ignored Diva’s obvious discomfort. Set couldn’t help but wonder, why that was the case. But he simply pushed those thoughts aside, so they wouldn’t waste anymore time around.

Every second counted, in these brief visits. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Atem had joined their reunion a few good hours into it, Mahad alongside with some other guards stood by as they simply followed with their tasks- duties. His bond with Kaiba was used as an excuse, for him to join them in it. “I simply wish to catch up on the news, straight from you Kaiba.” The man said, as he sat on the floor alongside them.

Set followed it with a slurred laughter, as he took another swing from his cup of beer. The priest laid sideways, in a very laid-back position as he kept smiling at his guests.“Anyway, as I was saying. I look back on my time at that boarding school with Kaiba, and what comes to my mind is those kids funny accent.” Another laughter left him, as he sipped once more off his cup.

"It's just British English. I mean, I talk with one when using English by default unless I'm dealing with Americans." While it was true, it was obvious that there was no malice by Seto. Then, imitating a welsh accent, "Just be happy I didn't got to school with the Welsh or the Scottish," he joked in English.

Meanwhile, Diva's eyes discreetly glanced between the pharaoh and priest. Yes, he definitely wasn't seeing things. Of course, he knew it was a different set of customs back then, but he also highly doubted Seto knew.

More importantly though...

"You didn't tell me you went to boarding school," Diva said, keeping most of his attention on his food.

"It's in the past. And besides, it largely slips my mind." There was a shrug from the CEO as he adjusted how he was sitting. It had been a while since he'd eaten in such a way.

Diva decided to drop it for now, bringing his attention back to the priest. "Either way, that does sound like a wild time. It must have been a culture shock to be thrown into a new setting while you were still tied to Seto."

“One day I found myself in some large and fancy looking mansion seemingly all by myself, and the following one I’m suddenly surrounded by kids about the same age as Seto. So I’d say, you’re right about that.” The priest responded in a slightly slurred tone, as a chuckle soon followed his words. The man fell silent so he coul take another swing off his drink.

So far, Atem was extremely quiet. It may not be the first time he heard most of those stories, but he pulled an act that gave off that impression. The pharaoh chewed on his food, as his gaze shifted from his lover priest to their living guests. “Set got to experience a lot more that your world had to offer than me, I only got to travel to America once and it was... Well...” His head shook to the sides, in an attempt to convey that things weren’t exactly what anyone would consider to be a vacation- without saying anything else.

However, he was soon interrupted by Set as he went ahead and named a few of the nations visited. “United Kingdom, France, Italy, America, Germany... Of course, Egypt! I was never truly sure, what to expect whenever we headed out.” Another chuckle left him.

While his spouse spoke, Atem shot a brief glance at Diva- and he noticed something felt off in the way he was staring at him. It didn’t take long for him to piece things together, as he was reminded of the fact that hailed from Egypt as well.

At this point, it was impossible to hide things from Diva... At least Kaiba, still seemed to be oblivious. Hopefully, he should be smart enough to not point out the obvious- between him and the priest.

“What else do you wish to know about Seto, Diva?” Set teased, while he poured some more alcohol for himself.

There's an air of awkward silence from Kaiba at Atem's words. It had certainly been far from a pleasant time for him either--not that he'd ever admit it to the pharaoh. Though, the CEO was starting to slightly worry that Set was getting a little too tipsy for such discussions.

His suspicions were confirmed when the priest volunteered up information to Diva. Ugh, he never should have brought him along.

Diva, on the other hand, was brought out of his scrutinizing of the pharaoh at Set's question. "Well, if you're offering..." his voice was quiet and polite, but Seto knew that tone meant trouble.

"Then I suppose I'd like to know if it's even possible that he acted like he had a worse stick up his ass back then. For I was lucky enough to met him later and skipped most of that."

"Diva, I will poison your food and leave you here."

A chuckle left the ex-Plana. This dance was a repeated and well-practiced one. "Sure you will. And then it will simply be more awkward when you return again."

There was a brief moment of silence between Atem and Set, as they exchanged brief looks with one another while the duo bantered with the other. Then, both men broke into a fit of laughter, which only served to sustain and confirm Diva’s statement.

Atem wanted to say something, but Set got ahead of him before he could even muster anything. “Oh, it’s very possible! After I introduced myself, and he became aware of me. It was nearly impossible to take over the body, I just couldn’t swap places with him!” The priest spoke while laughing, as he remembered those times so vividly.

“And the first time I met Kaiba... I had to rid him, from a bad influence that had clearly taken over him... And I’m not talking about Set.” The pharaoh added.

“All that did, was to get me an earful from him right after it.” The priest pointed out, as he sipped on his cup. “Well, I never said anything about what would happen afterwards, now did I?” The two followed it with another brief chuckle.

“Trust me, he has improved a lot since I got to know him... He changed a lot over the years, Diva. I’m happy for him.” Set added, then went ahead and emptied once more his cup.

"Oh forgive me for not wanting to just rent my body out on a whim," Seto shot back. Though the conversation quickly moved on, and he was unsure whether to feel insulted or touched by the end of it.

So instead, he did the totally socially acceptable thing and decided to stare at some odd fruit laid out before him that he didn't recognize.

"Really now? The great Seto Kaiba can change after all. I supose my timing was lucky then. Well except for when we first met--"

Seto cleared his thoat to cut that statement off. He didn't want Set to strangle someone today. Especially a live someone.

"You know Set, be careful. At that rate you're gonna pass out before the end of the meal," Kaiba said with a nod to the flavored gross liquid.

“Seto, I’m no longer in your body,” A hiccup interrupted Set’s slurry words, as he covered his mouth for a moment before he resumed talking. “I know very well how much I can take of this.” The man even gestured with his hands, as he took another sip out of his cup in order to prove a point.

“There’s no need to be concerned about, he tends to drink a lot more whenever he is with the others...” Atem pointed out in a calm tone, he had more to say but his drunk spouse interrupted him once more. “By the way, I’ve got a question... What’re you two anyway? What’s Diva to you, Seto? You know I won’t buy the friendship answer.” Set asked, it was very easy to tell how intoxicated the man was.

The pharaoh quickly fell silent, as he shot a glance at him then back at the guests. Now that he put some thought into it, Kaiba didn’t really explain his ties to Diva. Sure, he may have informed him that he was simply giving the CEO a helping hand in his work... But it didn’t quite suit, what most expected from Kaiba.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, shooting a disbelieving glance. High tolerance or not, drunk people weren't fun for Kaiba to deal with. Too much and it was hard to get intelligible conversation out of them even if they weren't flat out passed out.

But the gazes of the two immediately made Seto and Diva freeze before exchanging a glance. While Diva expected such a question to come up, he wouldn't have guessed it would have been asked so... directly. But Kaiba instantly responded with sarcasm."What, is it so hard to believe I have some friends nowadays? When you spend so many hours working together it's kind of impossible to not get along on some level."

For a moment Diva didn't respond. The plan had been for Seto to introduce him to the people here honestly, along with helping with the experiments side. But the ex-Plana could see Kaiba was most likely acting on instinct.

"It is true we are friends. It took a while, certainly after well... some difficulties over the past but we eventually got there. And..." he trailed off, carefully keeping his eyes off Seto. Best to leave it to him in his own time, if he wanted.

There was just the noise of Seto taking a sip of his own drink for several seconds. "And... weendedupgivingdatingatry." The words were spat out fast as Seto would read a monster's effect and his gaze snapped back down to his own food. Gods, why did he ever want to do this? Set and Atem would just laugh at him.

Atem and Set quietly listened in to Kaiba’s words, the priest was still sipping on his drink and the pharaoh held onto his cup. At first the answer given to them sounded reasonable, and expected from him even. As such both men didn’t react to what they heard immediately.

Set broke his silence as he stopped drinking for a moment, so he could speak “Oh, I see. So a lot has changed after all...” His voice trailed off, while the lips approached his cup- it seemed like he didn’t care about what had just come out from Kaiba’s mouth.

However, those words finally hit him.

First, the priest’s eyes shot widely open as he spat- choked on his drink and put aside the cup. A coughing fit ensued, as Atem attempted to help him out by giving his back light taps. It was in that moment, Set proceeded to sit up as he tried to muster out any word.

“Excuse me? What did you just-- say, Seto?” The priest asked between his coughs, while he desperately tried to clear his throat. The pharaoh was at a loss for words, he didn’t feel like he was in a position to even say a word about the matter.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Set reassured his partner, as he waved off Atem once he could talk normally. “Come again? You? Him? What-- Since when?” The priest’s gaze shifted between Diva and Kaiba, he didn’t seem to be angry- rather shocked and appalled at the bombshell.

For a moment, both Seto and Diva thought they had safely flown under the radar, or perhaps Set was being kind and trying to not make a big deal of it to scare them off. But it turned out to be a delayed reaction. The reaction could have been better, but they supposed it also could have been much worse. At least Set didn't die from the shock.

"Erm... well even that's a bit tricky. Kind of two months?" Kaiba wasn't sure the exact number of days though with the nature of all that had happened. "Though in the middle we kind of took a bit of a break er--"

"There was a small fight. But we sorted things out eventually," Diva added.

Kaiba was trying his best to not make eye contact with any of them. He wasn't even sure if he was embarrassed or stressed or both.

Diva still had a calm air about him outwardly, but a good part of him was wary of the uncertainty of what would happpen next.

One of his hands ran along his throat, as he was still recovering from his coughing fit. Meanwhile, he took his time to process and put some thought into what had been shared with them.

Due to his young appearance (he somehow, seemed to be about the same age as Kaiba), it is easy to forget that he was an actual father in his lifetime, and despite everything it was obvious he and the CEO shared a bond of that nature. “Dating,” Set uttered out, while he was still thinking on anything to say.

Dating in his time period, didn’t come anywhere near to what is commonly found in the 21st century. Set learned that, very quickly.

“Uh...” Atem tried to fill in the awkward silence in their meal, as he also bought Set some more time to think before saying anything back to them. “Congratulations? Kaiba? I would have never-” Yet again, he was interrupted by his partner.

“Expected something like this out of you... That’s all, mostly.” Set responded in a calm tone, while his gaze landed on Kaiba. Anger is nowhere to be seen on him, it truly seemed like he meant what he had just said.

Either that or the alcohol was still doing it’s magic on the priest.

The priest completely disregarded Diva’s presence, his attention was full on Kaiba who was clearly fighting his own inner demons amidst it all. “Does anyone else knows about this? Or... Am I the first one, Seto?”

"Wow, what are you trying to say?" But the side eye was directed at Atem. "Trust me, we didn't expect it either." But Kaiba did expect both of them to be knocked of guard at the mere thought. The word Kaiba and dating didn't exactly go together.

Diva remained silent, leaving it up to Seto on what to disclose and what not to.

"Mokuba, of course. I mean it's kind of impossible for him to not figure something was up. But we've kept it out of the news and gossip. But you're the first one outside of that."

He figured it was also best to be that way, given the nature of their relationship and Set's role in his life.

"You know, we just don't want people all up in our business just because we're dating." Because boy, woud that be a PR headache.

Set remained in silence the entire time Seto talked, despite his intoxicated state he seemed to have an attentive look on his face. His gaze was fixated on him, and it remained there even for a little longer. However, he had little to no self-control while under the influence of alcohol.

The priest proceeded to pull Kaiba into a tight hug, then bursted into a laughing fit as he repeated the same words “You’re dating! You’ve found someone, Seto!”. It seemed like the man was pretty content, with the news.

Mahad had to look away, this was just pure humiliation - he was cringing at the sight (even though, he also found the scene to be hiliarious).

Atem on the other hand, had to hold back his laughter at the scene his spouse caused. Even though he has heard most of the stories, Set had to share about him in regards to Kaiba. Seeing something like this was still a first time to him.

The next pause was tense, for a moment Seto was worried about the priest not approving of Diva, or perhaps the topic of his sexuality would come up with his seemingly lack of incantation in that area before.

But no, somehow it was worse. No, somehow Set had morphed perfectly into the embarrassing dad.

"Please gods, let me die." He struggled to worm out of the embrace, color rising to his cheeks as he shoved at Set to no avail. He never should have broken the news while the priest was drunk!

"Atem stop laughing! I'll kill you!" Though his glare at the king quickly switched over to his significant other. "Diva, don't just sit there, help me!"

The ex-Plana was barely hiding his laughter behind a hand. "Oh, come on Seto, I think he's taking it quite well. And I'd prefer to not get in the middle of family matters."

“He’s right, especially when it comes to Set. He takes this matter, very seriously.” Atem pointed out with a cheeky grin on his face, as he couldn’t hold back another row of laughter from him.He joined Diva in simply watching over Seto try to handle Set, on his own.

The priest stayed like that- clinging onto Kaiba for just a little longer, until eventually his pharaoh went ahead and managed to free him from the drunk man’s embrace. He was still yelling- exclaiming, repeating the wonderful news as some of the guards and Atem managed to gingerly lay him on the floor.

“I believe he has had more than enough for the night...” His voice trailed off, as he removed his cape and threw it over his spouse’s body. Who laid there on the floor, the alcohol had finally hit him hard. A few more nonsensical words left the man, at least he seemed to be quite happy- cheerful in a way.

When he did that, it revealed he wore an almost identital outfit to what Set had on himself. This detail would likely go unnoticed by Kaiba, but it might be further evidence to what Diva had observed on them so far.

“Once again, congratulations Kaiba. I wish you both happiness together... But I feel like he’s done for the night, you two can take your leave if you’d like. I’ll let him know, you said goodbye.”

"Oh you think?" More sarcasm spat from him once Atem finally pried the priest from him. He really should have been counting Set's drinks. A useful thing to keep in mind. But at least he finally stopped embarrassing him this way.

With a huff Kaiba stood. "When he wakes up with a headache, tell him that's karma." Despite how prickly he was acting he didn't mean any true misfortune, but gods Seto almost wished Set just didn't approve of Diva.

"Come now, don't kick someone while they're down," Diva said as he stood and gave a polite dip of his head to Atem. "Thank you for the... evening? If time works that way here. We're almost out of time anyway," he said, noting the data on his duel disk.

Kaiba gave a nod. "Until next time, I suppose." He didn't have much more to say to Atem, so simply started to walk out with Diva, who now took the CEO's hand.

"Did you see what they were wearing?" Aigami whispered.

"What? Is now really the time? Coordinate your duel disk first--"

And a moment later the duo vanished in a swarm of dark particles.

#AU 03 • ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ғᴏʀᴛʜ sᴘɪʀɪᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴅ • Yami!Set AU #| セト • priest set • saved |#ooc /#kaibacorpbros #indioragod #I forgot to sAVE THIS HERE DFHJBFH #incest mention tw #long post

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stormtrprinstilettos · 5 years

Text

“It’s not like I’m asking you to dinner.” - Roger x fem reader (smut)

Summary: It’s 1983 and Queen is recording their next album at the studio where you work, and things get a little heated between you and the drummer.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

In this “episode”: Roger finally gets Reader to go on a date – an actual, real date. And a question is popped. (No, not that one, calm down.)

Word Count: ~5k

Warnings: age gap (21 vs. 35), language (WTF no smut?)

Tagging: @fixedonroger @a19103 @ginabaker1666 @thickthighsandbasicbrowneyes @culturefiendtrashqueen @imaginesandideas @rogertaylorscar @painkiller80 (let me know if you want to be added)

[A/N: An anon sent me the fluffiest idea and I just had to use (most of) it. And, dammit, I’m sorry, no smut this time, but it needs to happen this way. Keep sending me those ideas because I need them in order to keep this going!]

Sunday. Finally. A day off. And you have tomorrow off, too, since your boss was kind enough to hire another girl to sit in and answer the phones a few days a week to help out. When Roger brought you home this morning he was headed off with the rest of the guys to go do some interviews so you weren’t expecting to hear from him anytime soon. You’re trying your best not to replay the conversation you had with him last night, but it was stuck on endless repeat in your brain. What did he mean – “I’m not giving you up any time soon,” you keep thinking. This is ridiculous. He’s leaving, he’ll be in Munich, then touring… Stop it, Y/N. But you can’t stop. He’s right. You overanalyze everything. This is just fun and he’ll move on when he leaves.

You desperately need a distraction, so you decide to start rearranging your albums again, this time by sleeve cover instead of alphabetically. It was stupid, especially because you knew it was going to get on your nerves the first time you’d go to look for one, but it got your mind off of him. You’re concentrating hard on the task you’ve given yourself when the phone rings.

“Hello?”

“I’m in the mood for Italian food. What’s the best place in this god awful city for Italian food?” It’s Roger, and you can’t help the massive smile that’s formed on your face.

“Dan Tana’s,” you tell him. “But they don’t open until dinner time.” You hear cars rushing by and horns blowing in the background. “Where are you? It’s so loud.”

He starts to chuckle. “I’m on some payphone outside. Dan Tana’s, you said?”

“Yeah, but they don’t open until dinner time and…”

He cuts you off. “Can you be ready for 5?”

“You’re talking to me?” you ask.

He’s laughing at your awkwardness. “Yes, you. I’ll pick you up at 5:00.” He doesn’t wait for an answer and he hangs up the phone.

You start to laugh at his sheer audacity. Part of you wants to be difficult and tell him you’re not going when he shows up, but you know you won’t do that. It’s only noon, but you rush to your closet to find what you’re going to wear.

The hours eventually passed, and you did your makeup three times, changed your clothes four times before finally deciding on your blue dress. You find yourself in the same situation as yesterday evening before he picked you up for that dinner with everyone else – nervous as hell, sitting in your living room, waiting for Roger to knock on the door. And when he did, you had to compose yourself again and not run to the door like you wanted to. And when you open the door, there he is again, wearing a tie – no blazer this time – and those sunglasses. God, do we really need to go to dinner? you groan to yourself, wanting to make him ravish you right there in the doorway.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets you, with a toothy smile and a kiss on your cheek. He holds his arm out for you to hook yours into. “Ready to go?” You smile and grab your purse and head out the door. “Thought I’d take you this Italian place I heard about,” he jokes as he walks you to the car.

You hear the people whisper and feel them staring as the two of you are walking inside the restaurant, trying your hardest to ignore them, but it’s hard to do. Roger, on the other hand, isn’t paying them any attention, instead focusing his attention on you and making sure you’re guided through the crowd waiting to get in as effortless as possible. The restaurant host immediately recognizes him and hurries the two of you to a table, far in the back away from as many people as possible, but you still feel people looking at you. “Ignore them,” he whispers, leaning over the table and taking your hand in his. “It’s just the two of us, no one else,” he says as he’s giving you a comforting grin. He glances down at the menu. “What’s good here?”

“I always get the veal parmesan,” you tell him with a chuckle. “Not that I come here a lot. That’s what I always get at Italian restaurants.”

He starts to laugh. “Not the adventurous type?”

“It’s my favorite,” you shrug. He’s still holding your hand as he looks over the menu, and you sit like that, in silence, watching him, and you can’t stop smiling. He glances up and you and smiles back before going back to the menu. You start to giggle at his deep concentration before realizing he probably doesn’t know what he’s reading and pull the menu away from him. “Pasta, seafood, meat or veggies?” you ask with a giggle.

“Meat,” he playfully growls. “Like a real man.” You roll your eyes and point to the menu section with the meat selections as you push it back to him and he smirks. “I have no idea what any of this is.” He points down. “What’s this?”

“Liver,” you tell him, laughing at his disgusted reaction. When he points to the next one, you giggle. “That’s veal parmesean.” He nods and closes the menu and gives you an impressed look. “I spent a semester in Italy when I was in college so I learned the cuisine. Studied that more than what I was actually there to study.”

He listened to you intently as you talked over dinner. For some reason you were chattier than usual, probably doing it because people kept staring and you were trying to distract yourself. It didn’t matter to him – he loved hearing you talk. After the waiter took your plates, he inched his hand to yours so he could hold it again, and as soon as he grabbed it, you were rendered speechless for some reason. Apparently he was too, because neither one of you spoke, sitting there and smiling at each other instead, until the waiter brought your coffee. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?” he says, softly, looking deep into your eyes. “Because if I didn’t, I just want you to know that you are absolutely beautiful.” You smile and he brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “And not just tonight. Always.”

You’re smiling as you melt inside, a different feeling than you usually get when you see him. It’s not that sexual desire that almost burns. It’s a flutter, a calmness, a… What is he doing to me? you ask yourself. Everyone else disappeared. It’s just the two of you, no one else, just like he said earlier. You lean over the table to get closer to him. “Come here,” you whisper, and he leans over to meet you and gives you a soft, slow peck, your eyes closing as you feel the warmth of his lips on yours. The moment is interrupted when the waiter brings the bill, snapping you both back to reality.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says as he hands the waiter the payment, standing up and holding out his hand for you. You walk out holding hands, this time not caring that people see you with him, ignoring the whispers and quiet gawking everyone is doing. It’s just the two of you, no one else, and you’re floating.

He’s driving around, not sure where he wants to go next, but he does know he doesn’t want to take you home – not yet. The conversation is flowing so smoothly, and you’re both enjoying the evening and the company so much you don’t want it to end. “Turn here,” you tell him at one point, so he listens to you, knowing you can navigate this place much better than he can. A few minutes later, you tell him to pull over, and excitedly jump out of the car, waving for him to join you. Shaking his head and chuckling, he gets out and walks over to you. “Come on,” you smile and grab his hand, pulling him along as you walk out to a view of the city below. “Just in time,” you murmur as he starts to take in the view. “Haven’t been up here in a while. My favorite place to watch the sunset.” He draws you in from behind, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder. He’s done this so many times before, and your insides flitter every single time. As you stand there, wrapped in him, you have no cares in the world. You’re not overthinking things for a change. You’re not questioning his motives or even worrying about what the future will bring. You’re in this moment, and you finally understand why he was always telling you to stop worrying about tomorrow, or the next month, or the next year. Now – that’s what it was all about. Now, the only time you can control, and this is exactly where you want to be.

“Y/N?” he says as he turns you to face him. The sun has just about disappeared from the sky, but there’s still a slight glow that’s making his eyes look even more enchanting than normal. You look at him and smile, his face telling you he has something he wants to say. “I… uhh…Thanks… for sharing this with me…” His words are stumbling a little, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he seems a bit nervous. He runs the back of his hand on your cheek, smiling and piercing your eyes with his. Your heart is beating so fast you can hardly catch your breath, and you sense he’s having a harder than usual time breathing as his smile fades and his expression turns serious. He opens his mouth and takes a breath like he’s about to say something else, but nothing comes out. He slowly leans down, and you can feel his breath on your cheek as your eyes flutter, then close as his lips meet yours. His hands slide down your arms before resting on your hips, drawing you in closer as your arms wrap around his neck, and the entire world starts to melt away. You slowly pull back, your hands resting on the nape of his neck, and you slowly open your eyes. He tries to say something again, but the words don’t come out.

All you can do is smile, finding this nervousness of his endearing. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “Why are you so tense?” you ask him. “Your whole body is tight.” You look up at him, your chin on his chest and and you start to rub his back.

He kisses your forehead and smiles. “Maybe being around you is stressful,” he chuckles, and you push yourself away, pretending to be upset and offended.

“I don’t know why I still like you, knowing you’re an asshole,” you laugh as he pulls you back close, leaning down so his nose touches yours.

“Oh, you like me?” he grunts sarcastically. “I happen to L…” He quickly stops himself and smiles. “I happen to like you, too.” He kisses your forehead again and pushes your head to rest on his chest. You can hear his heart beating, and you start to giggle again. “Stop being cute,” he laughs. “I’m trying to relax and enjoy the view.”

You look up at him again, giving him an adoring look and smirk. “My view is quite nice to look at.” He rolls his eyes and laughs, pulling you in even tighter. Just as you were about to speak, a car pulls up and four teenagers crawl out. “Ugh,” you groan. “It was nice while it lasted.” You slowly pull apart from each other and watch as these jackasses who interrupted your moment start to walk into view.

“Brownies,” he blurts out, out of nowhere. “You brought those brownie things to the studio the other day. Those were good.” You look at him, humored with confusion “I want some.”

“I don’t know where to buy brownies at 8:00 on a Sunday night,” you laugh. “I made those anyway.”

He grabs your hand and starts walking to the car. “Then let’s go so you can make me some.” He’s serious and you’re still laughing.

“I can’t just make them, Roger,” you laugh. “I need the mix and…”

“Well let’s go find the mix,” he says, hurrying and opening the car door and shoving you in. “What?” he asks, starting to laugh at himself when he gets in the car and puts the keys in the ignition.

“The stores are closed,” you tell him.

“Damn,” he chuckles. “Well… Where to next?”

“I don’t know,” you giggle. “You’re the one who invited me out tonight.” He nods and starts the car. “So where are we going now?” He shrugs and pulls out, not knowing which way to turn on the road and looks at you for guidance. “I don’t know where we’re going so I can’t tell you where to go.”

“My place?” he asks, not sure of anywhere else to go. You point in the direction he needs to turn and he starts to drive. He grabs your hand again, bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss it, and you look over at him and smile. You’ve been smiling since the second you opened the door when he picked you up, and you don’t feel like you’ll ever stop smiling again. “Tell me, what does a girl from [your hometown] want out of life? I mean, really want out of life?”

You sigh and lean your head back on the seat and gaze out of the window. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be happy,” you say quietly. “Not that I’m not a happy person or that I’m not happy where I am.” You turn your head and look at him. “I just want to be able to take my final breath, whenever it may be, and know that I’ve lived a happy life.”

“Wow,” he says, impressed by the maturity of your answer. “Usually people will say they want the big house, fancy cars, loads of money…”

“None of that matters to me,” you say, cutting him off. “So many of these people in these obnoxious houses have all of that, but they’re miserable.” You turn your body in the seat so you’re facing him, his hand still holding yours. “It’s not always about material things, you know? I mean, yeah, they’re nice, but it’s about the people you surround yourself with.”

He starts to laugh, loud and heartedly. “I think you’re the only person out here who feels that way.” He stops laughing and starts to grin. “You’re too good for these people.” He raises your hand so he can kiss it again, only this time he holds it there for the rest of the ride to his place so he can keep giving it random kisses.

He starts to loosen his tie as you walk inside and head to the living room. “Do you want to change?” he asks. “Get more comfortable?” You follow him back to his bedroom and he pulls out some sweatpants and a t-shirt. His eyes suddenly light up, having an idea pop into his head. “Change,” he says as he heads out the room. “I’ll be right back!” He rushes out, not saying a word about where he’s running off too.

After changing your clothes you sneak back into the living room, thinking you’re going to catch him doing whatever he rushed off to do, but you don’t see him. You don’t hear him anywhere, so you start to wander around the house trying to find him. You should know better by now than to put yourself in a position where he can scare you, but you forget about every other day before this one. When he sneaks up behind you and grabs you, you scream and slap him. “Dammit, Roger!” you yell and he’s in complete hysterics. It only takes a second for you join him in the laughter. “Stop doing that!”

“Never,” he laughs. You roll your eyes and slap him again. He grabs your hand and walks you to the kitchen where he points at a box of brownie mix on the counter with a proud look on his face. “Got it from my neighbor,” he chuckles. “Nice old lady.”

“Really?” you ask with a laugh. “You want me to make brownies?” He looks at you and pokes his bottom lip out in an over exaggerated pout that makes you giggle. You roll your eyes, smiling again, and walk to the refrigerator. “Well? Get me a pan. You have one of those?”

He gives you a big smile and reaches into a bag. “She gave me one,” he laughs. “Everything’s in here but the eggs.” After you grab the eggs from the refrigerator you start to look through his cabinets, searching for a bowl to mix everything in. He walks up to you holding one and smiles. “Told you. Everything’s in the bag.”

He leans on the counter watching you mix the batter and pour it into the pan. “Do you know how to use the oven?” you joke, but he gives you a blank look. “You’re useless,” you giggle as you set the temperature yourself. “You’re quite sneaky, too,” you tell him with your back turned. “Bringing me to dinner just so you can get me back here to make you brownies. I could have done this…” You turn around to finish your statement, but you can’t, because as soon as you turn around, he plants a kiss on you and smiles. Faking an unamused expression, you stick your tongue out at him and he takes his arm from behind his back and wipes a finger full of brownie batter on your face. “You’re such a child,” you laugh as he stands there with his eyebrows raised and licks the rest of it off of his finger.

When the brownies were finished, you took them to the living room, where you cuddled on the sofa and watched a movie. You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you wake up on the sofa, curled next to him, your head on his chest. He coughed, and that’s the only reason your eyes opened. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“No,” you groaned. “I have to clean the mess in the kitchen.” When you stand up, he stands with you and turns your body in the direction of the bedroom. “That’s not where the kitchen is,” you giggle.

“Go to bed,” he tells you, standing behind you and bending down to give you a kiss on your neck. “I’ll take care of it.” You turned yourself around, ignoring what he said. “I know how to wash, Y/N,” he chuckles. “Go to bed. I’ll be there when I’m done.”

You shuffle into the bedroom and collapse on the bed, and immediately your brain started running its mental marathon. The entire night was perfect. Dinner was sweet and romantic, even with the crowded atmosphere with the gawking and whispering. The sunset seemed like it was almost special ordered just for that moment. And the rest of the night, here, at his house, had an oddly comforting domestic aura. If one of your friends had told you they were the one who experienced all of this, you’d have been nauseated by the sweetness. You were nauseated, but because, despite all of it, all you could do was think about him leaving. You hadn’t thought about it for a second the entire night, but now, being left alone with your thoughts, that’s all you can think about. When he comes to bed, he snuggles up as close as he can to you and holds you tight, entwining his hands with yours. He meant it when he said he wasn’t going to be letting you go any time soon, and this was the first time you believed him. You had convinced yourself that this whole thing was only about sex, but now you weren’t so sure anymore. Not now that the two of you spent the entire night together without it, and especially not now that you’re both laying in this bed and neither one of you are trying to rile the other up. But still, there’s a nagging feeling in your gut kept telling you that you had to let him go, and if you didn’t do it soon, it was going to hurt that much more when you did.

He dropped you off at home on his way to the studio the next morning. You stayed chipper enough on the ride, cracking jokes and laughing with him, doing a great job not exposing the thoughts that are swirling around in your head, when all you really wanted to do was cry. Which is what you did the second you closed your apartment door. You didn’t even make it further than the door before the tears started to flow. It pissed you off that you let yourself feel things for him.

You sat alone all day, wallowing in the tidal surge of emotions that overcame you, feeling like you were drowning with no life preserver in sight. When your phone rang around 5:00 you didn’t want to answer it, but you did, clearing your throat, hoping that would mask the raspiness you knew your voice would hold. “Hey, beautiful,” you hear Roger say when you answer. You can hear his smile on the other end.

“Hey, you,” you say, almost in a whisper, cringing because your voice sounds terrible. “How’s it going over there?”

“Fine,” he replies but quickly changes the subject before it can be discussed further. “Are you feeling alright? You sound hoarse.”

You feel tears starting to well up again when you hear his voice, but you fight them off. “No, I’m feeling a bit icky,” you lie, although not completely. “It just came over me all of a sudden.” You hate lying to him, but you can’t exactly sit here and tell him the truth.

“Do you need anything? I can come…”

“No!” you stop him. “No,” you lower your tone. “I’ll be fine. I just need some rest.” You’re trying so hard to fight back those tears but they’re not holding back and start to slide down your cheeks. “You don’t need to come. I don’t know if it’s contagious.”

He knows nothing is physically wrong with you. There was nothing wrong with you this morning. But he’s not going to argue. He’s going to give you the space you apparently need, and he’s not going to ask any questions, even though he has no idea why you’re blowing him off. “Alright,” he whispers. “I’ll be here until 7 or so, so call if you need anything. The new girl is here so she’ll be around to answer the phone.” After assuring him that you would, you can hear him sigh. “Last night was one of my best, Y/N. I want you to know that.”

You close your eyes, wishing he would stop being so fucking perfect, because all it’s doing is killing you slowly. “Mine too, Roger,” you whisper. “Go on, they’ll get tired of waiting for you,” you giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispers back, and you can hear his smile again. “I L… I’ll see you,” he says and hangs up the phone.

For the first time since the guys have been recording you’re dreading going into work, only because you don’t know how you’re going to react when you see him. What you do know is that if you don’t stop overthinking and worrying about this then you’re going to make yourself sick, for real this time.

When you walk in, Anna, the new girl, greets you, overly cheerful and eager to be your friend it seems. You’ve met her once before, the day your boss brought her in for the interview. She seems nice enough, but a bit too much to handle right now. You’re listening to her dribble on about her boyfriend and how much she misses him since he’s out in New York at college when Roger walks in, much earlier than expected.

“Hello, Anna,” he greets her, smirking and being the flirt that he can’t help but being. “Looking lovely today.”

She starts to giggle giddily. “Hey, Roger,” she says, her cheeks turning a bright pink. You roll your eyes and smirk, finding the whole scene amusing.

He looks over and sees you sitting at your desk and smiles. “And you, Y/N, even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

Oh, fuck, you groan to yourself. Just seeing him ruins everything, because you had your mind set on ending it with him. You were going to tell him today, maybe tonight. Or next week. Or next month. Or the day he left. You didn’t know anymore. That damn smile… “Not looking so bad yourself, Mr. Taylor,” you tell him, still smirking and unable to break free from his eyes.

“Can you come help me with something?” he asks, walking closer to you, not smiling anymore. You hesitate, but follow him into the recording room anyway, closing the door behind you. He takes your hand and guides you to the sofa in the back of the room and sits down. “Let me in, Y/N,” he says softly. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

This is not the conversation you want to have right now. You weren’t ready, but you knew it had to be done. “You make me feel things I’m not supposed to be feeling and it’s infuriating.” You look down at him as he’s sitting there, looking at you, and he has that damn smile on his face. “Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.” He’s tickled by your frustration, but you don’t find it funny. You can’t deny it anymore because that night, in the studio – that was fucking perfect. Sunday night – that was fucking perfect. Every minute spent with him, even if it’s just talking about some minor thing – fucking perfect. But you didn’t want to feel. You didn’t want him to feel. You just wanted to have your fun and move on when he did because you didn’t want to get heartbroken. You were the heartbreaker, not the recipient of it. “I don’t want to feel anything, Roger.”

“But you do,” he says. “I didn’t want to feel anything either.”

“Well, stop feeling it,” you staunchly tell him. “You’re only going to be here another month or so and…” You look at him and sigh. “We’ve already talked about this.”

“Well things have changed,” he said with a bit of force, startling you a little. Your want to walk away, but you can’t. He’s holding on to your arm and pulling you closer to him. “I’m going to Montreux for a few weeks when I leave here to work on some solo stuff before going to Munich. Come with me.”

“W-what?” Shocked. That’s all you felt. Shock and, oddly, sick to your stomach. All you can do is sit down.

He turns his body to face you and grabs your hands. “I need you to come with me.” His face was serious. This wasn’t some game anymore. This wasn’t what any of this was supposed to be. “I fucking need you…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to leave you here.” You can’t even speak. This has caught you so off guard you can’t even think straight. “I never wanted this to happen either, Y/N, but it did. And now, well, now I can’t stop it. And neither can you.” He leans over and gives you a soft kiss on your completely flabbergasted lips and smiles. “I don’t need an answer now, or even tomorrow. Will you just think about it?” You shake your head. “That’s all I ask.” He runs the back of his hand on your cheek, smiling that damn smile you can never say no to. “You said all you want out of life is to be happy. I know I can make you happy if you let me.”

You know he can. He already does make you happy. And you don’t know why you aren’t yelling at him that yes, you will go with him, that you’ll go anywhere with him. You can’t say anything. You’re not even sure if you’re breathing right now. All you do know is that you’re engulfed in his stare, in his smile, and in the feeling he’s giving you with his hand on your face. He’s rendered you completely speechless again, but suddenly you start laughing, confusing the hell out of him. “This is stupid,” you giggle, confusing him even more. “I shouldn’t have to think about this.”

He starts to giggle too, albeit nervously. “No, you should. It’s not like I’m asking you to dinner.”

“Roger, I…” You can finish what you want to tell him because everyone walks in, ready to get to work, but you can’t take your eyes off of each other. He knows exactly what you were about to say, because he replied without even hearing it.

“Me too,” he whispers with a smile.

[part 7>>]

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor x fem reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fic #roger taylor smut #1983 roger

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ionlyreadfivebookslastweek · 5 years

Text

Bless The Broken Road - 32

The next day, the girls flew back home. Jane arrived at the apartment to find Spencer sitting with Shortstack on the couch.

“Hey!” she cheered.

“Hey! How was your trip?” he asked.

“It was a lot of fun!” Jane said as she kicked off her shoes and moved to join them. “What about you? Did you have a fun night?”

“Yeah, it was great,” he told her. He scanned her face. “You look like you want to tell me something.”

Jane blushed and looked down at Shortstack, scratching behind his ears. “Umm,” she stammered. “The girls and I were talking and joking around and, and they ended up daring me to kiss Emily?” She looked up at him briefly to see his eyes had widened slightly. She averted her eyes back to Shortstack again and continued, “So Emily and I sort of kissed last night.”

“Wow,” Spencer said, clearing his throat.

“Are you mad?” she asked him shyly.

“No, ahem, I’m not mad. That’s actually kind of hot?” he stated.

Jane’s head snapped up to look at his face. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

She grinned and chuckled a bit.

~~~~~

The week of the wedding, Hotch gave the team Friday off to prepare for their weekend of celebrating. The rehearsal dinner was that night at Rossi’s place. They enjoyed a beautiful night together with the team as well as friends and family that had come in from out of town for the weekend. Out of town guests included Emily, Jane’s parents, grandmother, and other relatives, and Spencer’s mother.

When the night came to an end, Jane headed back to Garcia’s with her for the night, as she and Spencer thought it best to spend the night before their wedding away from each other.

In the morning, the ladies headed to the salon to get their hair and makeup done for the big day. Jane’s hair was put up in a bun with some strands left loose in the front and a sparkly clip in the back.

After they were all done at the salon, they grabbed a quick lunch before driving out to the wedding location. As it was a rural location, they had set up tents to act as dressing rooms for the wedding party. The men would all be wearing gray suits while the bridesmaids’ dresses were a shade of burgundy.

Outside of the tents, they could hear guests chattering as they arrived and took their seats on the folding chairs set up in the clearing. The area was surrounded by beautiful fall foliage and they’d set up pumpkins and burgundy, purple, and orange flowers to line the ends of the aisle. The front had an arch set up for the couple to stand underneath as they said their vows.

When it was time to begin, the wedding party minus Jane and her father lined up and began their processsion. He’d wait until it was time for her to walk to bring her out so Spencer wouldn’t see her too early.

First, Spencer escorted his and Jane’s mothers down the aisle and seated them in the front row before joining Jack up at the altar. Next, the bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way up to the front. Chuckles of amusement could be heard as Henry walked down the eisle, a pillow with the rings on it in one hand and Shortstack’s leash in the other. While he obviously was unable to drop flower petals as he went, they had Shortstack wearing a flower headpiece in order to be considered the flower dog.

“I think they’re ready for you,” Jane’s father said. “Are you ready?”

Jane took a deep breath before nodding and smiling. “Yeah.”

He embraced her. “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she breathed into his shoulder.

They broke apart from their hug and she linked her arm around his for him to lead her down the aisle. Everyone stood as she made her way out into the open.

As soon as she turned to walk down the aisle, Jane locked eyes with Spencer and smiled.

His eyes widened in awe. Beside him, Morgan heard Spencer take an audible breath in as he saw his bride for the first time.

When they reached the front of the chairs, Jane’s father kissed her cheek before taking a seat next to her mother and Jane made her way up to stand next to Spencer.

He reached under her veil and touched her face. “You look beautiful,” he spoke softly.

Jane smiled but said nothing. The couple looked to Jack to begin officiating the ceremony.

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the love that Jane and Spencer have for each other and the life they are about to embark on together in marriage. I remember the first time I met Spencer and saw the pair together back when they were just friends. Jane insisted they were just friends and coworkers, but I could tell there was more to it. Now today, I am so happy they’ve asked me to officiate this service,” Jack shared. “Without further ado, the bride and groom have both prepared vows to read to each other.”

Spencer and Jane turned to face each other again. They both shared their vows and then Jack asked for the rings. Henry brought Shortstack over to the center, elicited “aww”s from many in the room. They placed the rings on each others’ fingers and said their “I do”s.

“You may now kiss the bride,” Jack told Spencer. Spencer lifted Jane’s veil and leaned down to kiss her. They heard Morgan let out a whistle and many people cheered and applauded.

“It is my honor to present to you, Dr. and Dr. Spencer Reid,” Jack announced.

Spencer took Jane’s hand and together they walked down the aisle, offically husband and wife. Neither one could stop smiling.

They had a few hours to take pictures before the reception started. The reception was held in a barn near the ceremony property. It was a wonderful, fun-filled evening of dancing and celebrating with all of their family and closest friends. At the end of the night, they headed back home, both exhausted.

Jane was unable to hold back a yawn on the drive back.

“Tired?” Spencer asked her.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” Spencer admitted.

“I know wedding night tradition calls for the bride and groom to sleep together for the first time as husband and wife, but how would you feel about waiting until the honeymoon? Honestly, right now I just want to sleep,” Jane laughed. “And I want our first time as husband and wife to be perfect so I’d rather wait.”

They stopped at a red light and Spencer turned to look at her. “I want it to be perfect too. Let’s wait until our honeymoon,” he agreed. He leaned over and kissed her before the light turned green again.

~~~

Monday, October 3rd.

Jane and Spencer took an early morning flight to Vienna Italy to start off their honeymoon. They settled into their hotel before going off to take in the sights.

After they got back to the hotel, Jane took a seat on the bed and smiled at Spencer as he came to join her.

“What?” he asked, trying to read her face.

“I’m just so happy right now,” she told him.

“Yeah? Me too,” Spencer agreed, smiling as he lifted a hand to her face.

He pulled her to him and began kissing her. Jane reached up and tangled her hands in his hair and Spencer moved them so that they could lay down on the bed. They both worked to take off each other’s clothes and then had their belated wedding night.

The couple woke up in the morning to the sun streaming through the window. Spencer drew circles on Jane’s bare back. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him, reaching up to give him a peck on the lips.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“Good morning,” he repeated back, giving her another kiss.

“Mmm, I wish we could just spend all day in bed,” she told him. “But I also don’t wanna miss seeing the sights while we’re here.”

“I know. I feel the same way,” he agreed. Spencer stretched and moved to sit up, pulling Jane up with him. “Come on. Let’s shower and get going.”

~~~

Jane and Spencer had a wonderful time during their honeymoon traveling throughout Europe. After a few weeks, it was time to get back home and back to work.

~~~

Sunday, October 16th.

Jane and Spencer were greeted by Jack and Shortstack at their apartment upon their arrival. They thanked Jack for watching Shortstack before he left so they could get to unpacking.

The next day, the couple came into work holding hands.

Everyone was awaiting their arrival and welcomed them back with hugs. Before they could get to asking how their trip was, however, a case came in. They’d (meaning Garcia mainly) have to get the details later.

Wednesday, October 26th.

The team was on a case in Colorado. Jane was at the sink in the bathroom of the local police station, staring at her reflection in the mirror when JJ entered the room.

“Hey, everything alright? You’ve been in here a while,” JJ asked her.

“Yeah, sorry. We should get back to the case,” Jane replied, attempting to walk past her. JJ put a hand on her arm to stop her.

“Wait, slow down. The team’s fine without us for a few minutes. What’s up?” she questioned her.

Jane sighed, looking at the floor and then back to JJ. “My period was supposed to start yesterday and it hasn’t yet.”

“You might be pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, well. Why don’t we make an excuse to go to the store later before we head back to the hotel for the night. We can get you a test and you can take it in my room.”

“OK,” Jane agreed with a nod. “OK. Thank you, JJ.” She stepped forward and hugged her before the two went back to the team.

That night, Jane made an excuse to Spencer about stepping out to call Jack so that she could head over to JJ’s room to take a pregnancy test.

They waited the alloted time for the test to be complete before Jane took a deep breath and looked at the stick.

She look up at JJ and told her, “It’s negative. I guess it’s just a false alarm,” Jane told her.

“Wow,” JJ breathed. Jane threw the test in the trash and moved to take a seat on the bed. “That’s good though, right? You guys just got married. You aren’t ready for kids yet. Are you?”

“Right,” Jane agreed. “I just...” she trailed off for a moment. “I didn’t think I’d be this disappointed that it’s negative.”

“Ok,” JJ said, taking a seat next to her. “Well, maybe you are ready. Take some time to think about it and then talk to Spencer about it,” she suggested.

“Yeah, I know.”

~~~~~

Thursday, November 10th.

It was weeks later and Jane still hadn’t talked to Spencer about her feelings about having kids. When they had gotten back from the case where she’d had a false alarm, they’d slept together again.

Now Jane was staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. She’d taken another pregnancy test. It was negative again so she tossed it in the trash.

Spencer entered the bathroom and she busied herself with finishing up getting ready for work.

In the mirror’s reflection, she saw Spencer look down to the trash and see the test.

“Jane, is that what I think it is?” he questioned.

Jane sighed and turned around to face him, leaning on the counter. “Yeah. It’s negative. On our first case back after our honeymoon, I thought I might’ve been pregnant but it was a false alarm and now I thought I’d check again since we slept together when we got back from that case but no.”

“OK,” he said, trying to read her face.

“But I realized from it that I’m ready to be a mom. I want a baby, Spencer,” she told him.

He grinned at her and replied back, “I do too.”

It was a paperwork day at the BAU. Jane decided to stay behind during lunch and continue working while Spencer went to go get food for both of them.

He returned to the office and set the food on her desk before bending down to kiss her cheek.

As he had already finished his own paperwork, he returned to his desk to read a book. Jane noticed this but didn’t think anything of it.

At the end of the day, Jane walked over to his desk just as he was setting the book down. She glanced at the title and realized what he was reading. It was a book about ovulation and getting pregnant.

When they arrived home, he began to explain to her how they could have planned sex around her ovulation to increase their chances of getting pregnant.

“We just missed your ovulating time for November, but we could always try anyways. Do you want to?” he asked.

“Yeah, might as well,” she laughed. He stepped closer to her and kissed her. She broke the kiss and chuckled. “Oh, you meant right now?”

“Is that a problem?” he asked.

“Not at all.” She took his hand and led him back to the bedroom.

~ A few weeks later, Jane took another pregnancy test but it was still negative. They planned to try again around the start of December, but a case came up, preventing them from doing so on time. They tried later again anyway.

Wednesday, December 21st.

“Spencer!” Jane called from the bathroom.

“What?” he asked from the bedroom.

She entered the room holding her most recent pregnancy test.

“It’s positive,” she told him.

He stood up from the bed. “What?! Are you serious?”

“Yes!” she said, laughing.

“Oh my god!” he laughed, taking the test from her and seeing it for himself. He set it down on the bedside table then embraced her, picking her up and spinning her around.

“We’re gonna have a baby!” Jane cheered.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” Spencer repeated, equally as excited.

The next day, they scheduled a doctor’s appointment.

The doctor did their own tests to check on Jane before turning to the couple.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but it looks like you’re at home test was a false positive. You’re not pregnant,” she told them.

“Oh,” was all Jane managed to say. Spencer wrapped an arm around her.

“I’m sorry. Keep trying,” she encouraged them. You’re free to go whenever you’re ready. I’ll give you two some time alone now.

“Thank you,” Spencer told the doctor. When she left, he asked Jane, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she told him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. At home tests can be faulty. That’s why we scheduled this appointment.”

“Yeah,” Jane said, unsure what else to say.

~~~

Around New Years, it was time for Jane to be ovulating again. Spencer was expecting them to try again when they got home from work, but Jane wasn’t sure if she could do it.

“Spencer, I’m not so sure about this,” she told him.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I don’t want to try to make a baby tonight,” she told him.

“Oh,” he replied, surprised. “Alright. That’s fine. You’re ovulating for a few more days. We can try tomorrow.”

“No, not just tonight,” Jane told him, shaking her head. “I can’t do it, Spence.” She took a seat on the couch. “I can’t stand the disappointment of seeing another negative test,” she explained.

He stood in front of her. “You don’t think I’m disappointed too everytime it’s a negative or a false alarm?” I hate it too,” he insisted.

“But it’s not you who feels guilty every time. It’s like there’s something wrong with me! What if I’m not able to give you a baby?”

“So you just wanna give up now?”

Jane shook her head. “No, I’m not saying that. Maybe we could just take a break from trying for a while. Maybe we’re forcing something that isn’t supposed to happen yet.”

Spencer sighed and took a seat next to her.

“I know you’re excited to start a family and I am too, but can we wait just a little while?” she asked.

He thought about it for a moment before agreeing. “Alright. We can put it off for a while.”

“Thank you,” she told him, turning to hug him.

“Of course,” he replied.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bless The Broken Road Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@cynbx @neon-deanmon @drw0301bieber @notsosmartbutcute @banananna99 @lydklein1

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mcwriting · 6 years

Text

Nico Di Angelo

Lol I spent the plane and train rides to, through, and from Italy reading The Burning Maze (rip my heart) and rereading MOA and BOO (don't have HOH on iBooks, just print) soooo. Yeah. All the feels returned and I was feeling this lol.

Edit: I just realized I didn’t add ny typical header and word count and background so sorry y’all.

Edit 2: Lord have mercy on me there are probably a million typos

Not Tom holland (sorry not sorry)

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians/ Heroes of Olympus

Ship: Nico Di Angelo x Will Solace (solangelo)

Setting: Camp Half Blood

Word Count: 683

Warnings: 1 bad word lol

Rating: K+

Background: I just really love Nico Di Angelo

After Will calls Nico over to the infirmary, he gets put in an area close to a window (Will wants him to get sunshine).

Every few hours (or less), Will stops by Nico’s space and checks up on him. Will insists on making him actually lay down for the first few hours and is constantly fawning over Nico’s health.

Nico is torn between love and hate for the attention.

After a surprisingly peaceful nap, Nico wakes to find Will standing over him with Gatorade.

“Electrolytes and salt are good for you right now,” Will insists.

Nico thought that was only a Coach Hedge thing.

He sits up and swings his legs around, putting his feet on the ground. Will watches him sip the blue sports drink for a minute before being called to the emergency area (someone just fell and busted his forehead in the arena and needs stitches)

Not long after, Jason appears and takes a seat next to Nico.

“So, uh. Our conversation seemed to get cut short earlier but... I saw you go and, and see, er, talk, I guess to...”

“You don’t have to finish that. But yeah, I decided to clear the air and come out to him. I mean, I’m over him, but I thought he should know, ya know? I figured it was the best way for both of us to become better friends and for me to finally let go.”

Jason put a gentle hand on Nico’s shoulder.

“You, my friend, are one of the bravest, most incredible dudes I know. I am so happy and proud for you.”

“Come on, Jason. You’re too sappy for me,” Nico jokes, lightheartedly pushing Jason’s hand down.

“Hey man, I hate sappiness as much as the next guy, but you know I’m always here for you. And if you ever need help getting a guy, just let me know and...”

“Alright looks like time for another nap for me. Bye Jason see you next week!” Nico says quickly, trying to get out of that awkward situation.

Jason laughs as he stands up and says his goodbye for the time.

Nico, on the other hand, was serious. He goes back to bed.

His second day in the infirmary, Nico is joined by another guest: Percy Jackson.

Nico is sitting up in the stretcher, slowly eating the breakfast Will brought him earlier. Now, Will has opened the curtain once again to announce that Nico has a visitor.

When Percy steps out, Nico doesn’t know how to feel. After yesterday, well, he knew things could be awkward for a little while.

Will gives the other boys space, leaving Percy standing awkwardly with his hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts. His eyes are steely, but expression still light. Nico understands what is behind those eyes. He is one of the only ones who understands what they could have seen.

That’s not the point right now, at least, it doesn’t seem to be.

Nico invites Percy to sit, which makes him relax some more. He won’t meet Nico’s eyes when he starts talking, flustered.

“So, Nico. I... I wanted to talk about, you know, yesterday and just... well first of all, sorry for my reaction back there. I wanted to say something, but obviously that never happened,” he chuckles, finally turning towards Nico again.

“There really wasn’t anything you needed to say. Like I said, I wanted to clear the air and finally admit it. But also, like I said, that’s ancient history to me.”

Percy nods.

“I’m really, really glad you told me, though. I mean, that had to take some serious guts. And I want you to know that you can always tell me anything. And since apparently I’m ‘not your type,’ you can always come to me for boy advice!” He says excitedly.

Nico rolls his eyes, then smiles.

“You’re pushing your luck, Perce. But, uh, thanks for being cool about this. I spent a lot of time hiding from myself, and I’m thankful for the friendship and help you’ve extended to me over the years.”

Percy repeats the move Jason pulled yesterday, clapping a hand over Nico’s shoulder.

“I’m always here. But all seriousness aside...” he leans in to whisper, “Will, eh?”

Nico blushes and gives Percy a joking shove to the chest.

“Alright I think it’s time for you to go, I don’t know, bother Annabeth or something!”

Percy smirks as he rises from the bed. Putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay! I see how it is,” he begins, followed by, “really though, he’s a good guy, just in case you were wondering.”

With that he leaves, and Nico is left to finish his half-eaten breakfast.

Will returns a while later, making a face Nico can’t quite read.

“So I know I told you you’re gonna have to stay here three days but... I need for you to go...” he starts.

Oh no. This is what Nico was afraid of. Surely the other campers knew he was there and were uncomfortable. What were they saying? Did they request for him to leave? Maybe it’s for the better. Gods, what does Will think about Nico?

“Hey, you don’t have to break it to me. I knew when I’m not wanted...”

“What? Gods, no, Nico! I was just gonna make you go take a shower! Hygiene is one of the best healers, you know!”

Nico is dumbstruck by the son of Apollo once again. Will really did want him around still? The other campers weren’t requesting for his removal?

“Wow. Ohhhh, wow. I really am dense. Yeah, though. I will definitely go clean up some and uh, I’ll be back in a half hour or so?”

He gets up and makes his way to his cabin, then the bathrooms, where a hot shower helps Nico clear his mind, and for the first time in a while, things feel... good.

Nico’s last day in the infirmary goes by too fast. Nico has enjoyed spending time with Will, even though his time often got cut short by other campers’ needs. Whenever Will had a break, he had come in and just spent time with Nico, a strong banter running between the two.

Now Will was standing by the bed, wringing his fingers.

“Soooo... this time I really am kicking you out. Your three days is up, and honestly, you’re way better than I would have expected you to be by now.”

Nico grins.

“Yeah I was expecting this.”

“Here’s the deal though. You’re gonna have to have bi-weekly checkups for a while. I need you to come see me Wednesday at 1. Don’t be late.” Will states firmly, though he’s obviously trying to fight back a smile.

Nico feels the skeletal butterflies again.

“Of, of course. Yeah. Wouldn’t miss it.”

With that he leaves.

Over the next three weeks, Nico has found himself with Will more. Of course, he’s making new friends and reconnecting with old ones, but outside of his “appointments,” Nico and Will have ended up at the same training sessions and playing games on the same teams.

Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe someone was doing this on purpose, or maybe the two were just on similar wavelengths.

Either way, Nico can’t stand being around him like this. Spending so much time with Will, he understands the feelings he has, and hopes that Will feels the same way.

Finally, Nico can’t take anymore.

He heads to another check-up with Will, stomach in knots. He steps to the infirmary extra nervous. Today’s the day. He’s finally gonna tell Will. He’s just not quite sure how he’s gonna do it.

“I see you’re messing with your ring, there,” Will observes as he waits for the blood pressure cuff on Nico’s arm to deflate. “Something on your mind?”

How does he know me so well? Nico thinks.

“Just a little distracted is all.”

“Bullshit, Nico. I know you.”

Will is too good.

“It’s just that, these past few weeks, it’s been cool hanging out with you, and...”

“And?” Will grins, removing the cuff from Nico’s upper arm.

This is a lot harder than I expected, Nico thinks, letting out a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding.

“You know what? Frick it.” He mutters, standing.

Will turns around from where he is prepping a thermometer.

“What was tha...”

He doesn’t get to finish, because suddenly Nico has one hand thrown around Will’s back and the other holding his head, and then their lips are pressed together and Nico’s never felt this way before and he doesn’t know if he’s doing it right but somehow, just somehow, everything feels like this was meant to be.

It feels like an eternity before they’ve separated.

“Nico,” Will whispers.

Nico freezes, then quickly steps back, arms recoiled to his chest.

“Oh, gods. I just did that,” he realizes, before putting his hands to his head and further exclaiming, “I just did that! Oh man, Will, I’m so sorry and I need to go and-”

Will steps forward and grabs Nico’s arm.

“Nico, stop. Look at me.”

Nico obeys.

“Nico, do you know how long I’ve been wanting to do that? I had this big plan and I was gonna get you at the bonfire and gods I can’t believe you would ruin my plan like that!” He rambles.

Nico is left in shock, then suddenly the two burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe you! Hahaha!”

“And you! Ha, That was amazing how you moved in on me! Totally caught me off guard! Haha!”

Both boys steady their breathing enough to have a real conversation.

“You know, Nico, I’ve been having you ‘check up’ with me every week so I can hang out with you. I mean, you really were sick for a while but you’re almost better than ever now.”

Nico can’t believe the lengths this boy went to be with him.

“So I should assume that us being at the same training sessions and on the same teams was part of your plan?” Nico questions.

“Wait that wasn’t you? Because it definitely wasn’t me, although I’m not disappointed that it happened.”

After more conversation and maybe one more kiss, the two decide to show off their newfound relationship at the evening’s bonfire.

With everyone now knowing about the sons of Apollo and Hades being together, people keep coming up and congratulating them on finally realizing the chemistry between them.

Nico is surprised that so many campers shipped them. What’s more surprising is when Nico is stolen away by Percy and Jason, wanting to hear all about how they got together, though Nico can’t answer when Percy says,

“Obviously my plan to schedule them in the same training sessions worked great!”

Nico is more surprised when Jason rebutts with

“Well I should take the credit for getting them on the same teams for capture the flag and stuff!”

Nico can’t help but laugh and clear up the situation.

It’s funny how things work out, he thinks. You believe that no one can accept you or understand you, but maybe things are different. Maybe sometimes family does understand, and maybe, just maybe, you find the one in places you never thought possible.

A/N: I don’t really like this ending :/ but oh well. Sorry I’m an inactive loser (esp to all my followers who are here for Tom Holland content whoops)

Love y’all

#not tom holland #PJO #percy jackson #nico di angelo #jason grace #will solace #solangelo #nico x will #Nico di Angelo x will solace #hoo #boo #blood of olympus #heroes of olympus #pjo/hoo

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the-christian-walk · 3 years

Text

THE ENCOURAGEMENT OF FELLOWSHIP

Can I pray for you in any way?

Send any prayer requests to [email protected] In Christ, Mark

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

** Follow The Christian Walk on Twitter @ThChristianWalk

** Like posts and send friend requests to the author of The Christian Walk, Mark Cummings on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/mark.cummings.733?ref=tn_tnmn

** Become a Follower of The Christian Walk at http://the-christian-walk.blogspot.com

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The scriptures. May God bless the reading of His holy word.

After three months we put out to sea in a ship that had wintered in the island—it was an Alexandrian ship with the figurehead of the twin gods Castor and Pollux. We put in at Syracuse and stayed there three days.

From there we set sail and arrived at Rhegium. The next day the south wind came up, and on the following day we reached Puteoli. There we found some brothers and sisters who invited us to spend a week with them.

And so we came to Rome. The brothers and sisters there had heard that we were coming, and they traveled as far as the Forum of Appius and the Three Taverns to meet us. At the sight of these people Paul thanked God and was encouraged.

When we got to Rome, Paul was allowed to live by himself, with a soldier to guard him.

Acts 28:11-16

This ends today’s reading from God's holy word. Thanks be to God.

After their ship ran aground, stranding them on a foreign island, the 276 people who had been traveling to Rome had to expect the worse. They had avoided dying at sea but now faced the prospect of dying on dry land as they went ashore in Malta with no provisions and little to no survival skills.

But God hadn’t brought them to where they were for no good reason. For as we have seen in the first eleven verses of Acts 28, the final chapter in this book, the Lord used Paul to put His power on full display, first protecting Paul from the bite of a viper before placing healing power in His apostle which was used to heal the father of the chief official of the island and then all the people who came to Paul afterwards. Miracles happened that had never been seen before by the islanders and I am sure more than a few committed their lives to the Lord.

Thankful for all the Lord had done for them through Paul, we read in yesterday’s message how the people provided Paul and his traveling counterparts with all the provisions they needed, topped by a new Alexandrian ship they could use to get to Rome.

God had blessed the Maltese people and in return, they provided things He had blessed them with to make sure His purposes could be carried out. It’s a cycle He repeats over and over and over again, and has done so for the ages.

So Paul and the other 275 people with him got back out to sea and the scriptures tell us that the first port they pulled into was Syracuse. No, they didn’t sail to the United States because Syracuse, New York is inland. This Syracuse was on the east coast of Sicily and we know Sicily is an island just south of Italy so Paul and the others were close to where they were heading.

The scriptures tell us they spent three days in Syracuse before departing and sailing north to Rhegium, a town that was on the east side of the Sicilian straits where they stayed overnight. The next day, we read where they were blessed with a favorable south wind that allowed them to reach Puteoli.

Where is Puteoli?

Well, if you know where Naples is in the south of Italy then you’ll have an idea of where Puteoli is for it was located within the Gulf of Naples on the southwest coast. Again, Paul and the rest of those onboard the Alexandrian vessel were making daily progress toward arriving in Rome. But before they went there, Luke shares that there were “some brothers and sisters” (code for fellow Christians) who invited them to “spend a week with them”. Once again, the Lord blessed Paul with the gift of hospitality.

And with that, Paul and the others went to Rome and their arrival was not a secret. We know that because the fellow Christians in Rome had heard Paul, Luke, and the others were coming so they traveled from “as far as the Forum of Appius and the Three Taverns” in order to meet the new arrivals and welcome them to Italy’s capital city, the heart of the Roman empire.

Now Paul had gone through a lot to get to where God wanted him to be. There had been challenges every step of the way and the apostle had to not only be tired but a little anxious over what was ahead. He had appealed to Caesar, the Emperor over the most powerful empire in the world. No one man possessed more power and authority in earth than Caesar. So imagine how much he was blessed when he was greeted by so many brother and sister Christians upon his arrival. We know his feelings because the scriptures tell us that he “thanked God and was encouraged”.

Friends, this is what fellowship does to a believer. We all want to be uplifted and valued. We want to know that others care about us and are willing to give freely of their time and love for us. We all need to feel supported.

I’m sure Paul felt this and so much more. He knew there were people who were pulling for him and keeping him in prayer. He would need this as he was taken into custody and again, placed in what amounted to house arrest. For we read that although Paul was allowed to live alone, he was always watched by a soldier, a member of the palace guard. Paul talks about the impact he had on his sentries in the first chapter of Philippians, a letter written while Paul was going through his Roman captivity.

What would happen to Paul now that he was under custody in Rome? Would he ever get to have an audience with Caesar?

We’ll answer those questions in our final few devotions as we finish our study of Acts and then head to Paul’s epistle to the Romans.

Amen.

In Christ,

Mark

PS: Feel free to leave a comment and please share this with anyone you feel might be blessed by it. Send any prayer requests to [email protected]

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marauders--mischief · 7 years

Text

Summer Revelations Part 2

Request: omg!! summer revelations part two? i need more sirius fluff i’m sorry 🙁

Pairing: Sirius x Reader

Word Count: 2002

Warnings: None, just fluff

A/N: My Beatles obsession may be evident in this fic but oh well. I couldn’t choose between the two gifs, so enjoy them both :) Also this one is just kind of a ‘what happened after’ thing, so there’s not much plot. Let me know if you liked it :)

Previous Parts: Part 1

****

The rest of the week past too quickly for yours and Sirius’ liking. You couldn’t make up for lost time, only managing to share desperate kisses. It was strange at first; transferring from the close friendship you had into an official relationship. Sometimes, the thought alone became too much to handle, because you were dating Sirius Black, and nothing could wipe the goofy smile off of your face. But, your five days were nearly up, and Sirius had already packed, ready to go to the Potter’s. Now, you were both laid on your bed, your back pressed against his stomach while he traced shapes into the side of your arm. Neither of you wanted your time together to end.

“You will write to me, won’t you?” You asked, turning your head to look at him. Since his confession to you, you had rarely missed an opportunity to admire his features because of the simple fact that now you could.

“I’ll see if I can find the time,” he replied cheekily.

“Oh, ha ha,” your sarcastic tone not going unnoticed by Sirius. “Honestly Black, you should be a comedian.” You fling the covers off of you whilst you search through a cabinet in the corner of your room, leaving Sirius in the bed alone.

His eyebrows furrow slightly at your sudden decision to get up, but he disregards it, more intrigued in what you said. “Oh yeah? What’s one of them?” Sirius noticed you were distracted with finding whatever you were looking for so he gave a little cough to get your attention.

“Oh sorry. Erm, it’s pretty much a job where you tell jokes. If you’re good at it, then- AHA!” You exclaimed, jumping up and holding up a blank vinyl sleeve. “I found it!”

He looks at you in confusion. “Found what exactly?”

“You’ll see,” you smirked.

You carefully place the vinyl onto the record player and lower the needle. Soon enough, the static sounds stop and song starts. Climbing back into the bed with him, you see that the puzzled look on his face was replaced by one of fascination. You had to smile at that. “What, you’ve never seen a record player before?”

“No, I have. I’ve just never heard this song before.”

“Oh. It’s ‘Eight Days a Week’ by the Beatles. They’re a muggle band, probably why you’ve never heard of them.”

“I love it,” he beamed. He suddenly lifted himself out of bed and offered his hand out to you, bowing slightly. “Care to dance, sweetheart?”

Giggling, you take his hand as he pulls you up. “Certainly, sir,” putting on your best posh voice as a playful smile tugged at his lips.

At first, the two of you just circle around the room, his hands resting on the small of your back, and yours wrapped loosely around his neck, not caring if you weren’t following the rhythm of the song. But then he began to get more playful, spinning and twirling you around. When the song ended, you were both laughing at each other in adoration, happy that you could be with someone who you could still have fun with. Unfortunately, the effects of dizziness soon took over your body, so you had to sit down in order to stay balanced.

Sirius sits down next to you, still laughing slightly. “You have got to send me some of those.”

“I’ll send a new one with every letter I get.” You coyly smile at him, though he caught on to your thoughts.

“Well, you were reason enough, but now you and Beatles albums? Darling, I’ll be writing to you every hour.” And if that wasn’t enough to make you swoon, he goddamn winks at you.

Merlin, the rest of these holidays were going to drag.

The first letter you got from Sirius was short. He let you know he got the Potter’s safely, and how unused to he was to their kind attitude towards him. He mentioned that James had already decorated his entire room for him with Gryffindor colours and images of you and the rest of the Marauders. Happy he had finally found people he could really call his family, you make your way over to your cabinet where you kept your vinyl records. As promised, with every letter you received from Sirius, you would send a Beatles song, this time choosing 'Kansas City’. You mutter a quick charm to prevent it from scratching and write a quick note to him saying how you hoped he was enjoying it there. You attach them both to the owl’s leg and watch as it flies off into the distance.

It had been three days since you had sent Sirius your reply, and though you had spent almost all your time looking hopefully out of the window, you still jumped in shock when an owl flew into the kitchen, carrying a rather large looking piece of parchment. You rush over to the owl, stroking its feathers once before going to retrieve the letter.

You carelessly tear open the envelope and read the letter.

Y/N,

Just so you know, I will not be returning any of the songs you send me because I enjoy them too much. (Kidding – but please let me keep them for just a while longer).

I love it here. Mainly because Euphemia makes me my favourite meal everyday but also because she’s just generally amazing. Yesterday I told her that I wished I was her real son and she told me to stop being silly, because she considered as much as a part of the family as James is.

It’s been weird not seeing you. I guess I got used to seeing your face whenever I woke up. When I listen to the songs I just imagine we’re dancing again.

James says hi. - He said other things as well but I’m not going to repeat them.

Miss you,

Sirius.

You hurriedly write a reply and find a new record to send him. Eventually you settle on 'I Saw Her Standing There’, and once again, you were left to wait for his reply.

So far, you had sent three more records for each letter Sirius wrote to you. There was no pressure on either of you to respond right away, you both knew that you would be seeing each other when Hogwarts started again. You didn’t really have any plans for this Summer, (Lily was in Italy and Remus said he was too busy studying for his N.E.W.T’s), so to say the knock on your door was unexpected would’ve been an understatement.

You prepared yourself to talk to muggles but instead you were confronted with Sirius, wearing an ear-splitting grin.

“Miss me, Y/N/N?”

You run to him, his large arms enveloping you in a tight hug. “What in the world are you doing here?” You ask in disbelief.

He releases you and bends down to pick up a basket. He holds it up, showing it to you. “Picnic?”

You giggle, still looking at him in bewilderment before giving him a short kiss on his cheek. He tried to suppress his laughter at the fact you had to stand on your tiptoes to reach him. “Let me grab something.”

When you go back downstairs, you hear Sirius humming 'Hey Jude’ to himself, not aware you had returned. You walk past him and ruffle his hair, loving how soft it felt in your hands. He jolted slightly at your sudden appearance but smiled when you called back at him. “Are you accompanying me on this picnic, or are you just going to stand there and look hum the Beatles?”

He shakes his head at your comment, but catches up to you anyway. “You don’t even know where we’re going anyway.” He says smugly, halting you in your tracks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I found a good spot, so you need to be accompanying me, sweetheart.”

Sirius led you through woods, and winding paths until you came to a secluded lake, a large grass bank surrounding it. “Found it on my way to the portkey to James’.” He looks at you anxiously. “So, what do you think?”

You try to wipe the look of complete awe off of your face, though unsuccessfully. “I think it’s perfect,” you whisper. “Thank you, Pads.”

You had to give credit to Sirius; the food he brought tasted amazing. The freezing charm he placed in one of the compartments even allowed you to enjoy eating ice-cream. Well, you say eating. Really you mean Sirius tackling you to the ground and attempting to wipe some on your nose. You talked about his previous weeks with the Potters in more detail, learning that James had bought Quidditch tickets for them both for the following week. When you had eaten as much as you could, you found a spot of shade beside the lake. Grabbing your bag, you rummage through it.

“What are you looking for?”

You answer him by pulling out a book, its spine bent and broken, and holding it out to him. “It’s what I went back for. I was going to read it to you if you wanted?”

He nods eagerly, and allows you to rest your body against his stomach. You manage to read through four chapters before you become too tired to continue.

Eventually, after half an hour of just lying next to one another, you both decided to head back when the heat from the sun became too much, both of you becoming exhausted from the sweltering heat.

The walk back didn’t seem to take as long, probably, you thought, because Sirius had taken you the scenic route to get there.

As you were walking through the village shops near your home, one of the items in one of the shop windows caught your eyes, suddenly sparking your interest. “I’ll be right back!” You shout.

A few minutes later, you come out of the shop carrying a small bag. “What did you buy?” He asks.

“Oh, just food,” brushing off his question. But something about the mischievous glint in your eyes told him you weren’t being entirely truthful.

Sure enough, when you both got back to your house, you had quickly disappeared out of sight, leaving Sirius alone in the garden.

He doesn’t see or hear you approaching, but instead is alerted by your presence by cold water splashing on his back. He swiftly turns around to see you curling over yourself with laughter.

“'Just food’, huh?”

“Hey, water balloons are the best way to cool down. They’re right here if you want 'em,” you remarked.

“Well, I’m definitely in no position to refuse that offer.” He comes over to the bucket where you had placed all the full water balloons and grabbed a few. He throws one which hits your shoulder, and instead of shivering at the cold water, you welcome it as it makes the heat more endurable.

You and Sirius continue the water fight for a few minutes, but the balloons quickly run out. You were both soaking, hair dripping and clothes tightly attached to your bodies. Various different colours littered the grass and the two of you were laughing at each other. You were determined to win, so you slyly go to get the bucket which had a small amount of water remaining at the bottom. When he turns completely away from you, you run up behind him and throw it. You knew you only had a few seconds to run away before he would try and grab you, but he was too fast. You both fell to the ground, his arms pinning you beneath him. The water from his face falls onto your face, and he leans in, sweetly kissing you.

When his lips finally detach from yours, you look up at him. “Love you too, Sirius.”

And even though you knew this summer hadn’t even ended yet, you couldn’t wait until next year.

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lordendsavior · 6 years

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Ruth Capps’ reputation as one of the most hardcore One Direction fans precedes her. In the days before I see her in her pajamas under west London's Hammersmith flyover, I’m told by at least three people that she’s an “angel.” At just 19, she has as many tickets to see Harry Styles through 2018 as years she’s been alive. On Twitter, she posts earnest messages of support for her idol to her 110,000 followers. Offline, she projects a calm rationality that belies the reason she’s become so well-known within the fandom to begin with. Five days before the first UK date of Styles’ solo tour, Ruth is one of nearly 50 girls camped outside the Hammersmith Apollo in sleeping bags and foil blankets. When the Daily Mail stops by to interview them, Ruth diplomatically volunteers to be a representative.

“I’ll make us not look crazy,” Ruth assures the crowd of skeptical girls surrounding her. The reporter kneels down upon the sidewalk and pulls a notebook from her bag as Ruth holds court atop the pallet of £6 Primark duvets, and does her best to explain the situation as plainly as possible. “What’s going on here?” the reporter asks, assuming a “fun mum” tone with the girls in an attempt to get them to open up.

“We’re camping out here to see Harry Styles,” Ruth says, unperturbed by the fact that there are five days until he’ll take the stage. Her honesty with the reporter is a rarity among the camp. The truth is that the girls are waiting for the 23-year-old pop star, but if you ask them why, you’ll get a different answer. One fan tells a passerby they’re waiting for Mary Berry. Jacob Sartorius. A hot dog eating competition. All of which provide a simpler explanation than the reality, which is: it is Wednesday, and they already have tickets to the show on Sunday, but they’re sleeping on the street to perhaps – if they’re lucky – be noticed by Harry himself.

This is “camping culture,” an act of stan devotion in (often uncomfortable) pursuit of the rarest and most valuable fandom currency: proximity and access. For many fans on the street, this will be a one-time thing, an anomalous event only made possible by the grace of its novelty. But for some, camping is merely part of “following” an artist on tour. When the house lights rise in the Apollo on Monday, some will pack up their sleeping bags and head to Manchester. Then Glasgow. Then Stockholm. They will spend several hundreds, even thousands of pounds to see the same show over and over again. But what happens when these fans attempt to take the show into their own hands? What happens after – if, when, finally – Harry notices them?

London, Night One

Grace has spent five days camped outside of the Apollo, but four hours before the show, you wouldn’t be able to tell. In groups of two, Grace and her friends pose for photos in front of the bright red marquee. Last night, they cuddled on the pavement in sweatpants; now they’re made up in florals, high-waisted flares, berets. The temperature is 13°C, and Grace wears a crop top. Now 19, Grace became a fan in 2011, when she found solace in One Direction after moving from the US to Italy. “I wasn’t happy in high school, so I kind of invested in myself fully,” she tells me. What is it about Harry in particular that makes him stand out? “He’s just very accepting. He believes you should be whoever you want to be, and everybody’s going to love you.”

It’s this message of acceptance that makes Harry’s shows both empowering and entertaining. For £35, you can buy merchandise that reads, “Treat People With Kindness.” In the crowd throughout his set, hundreds of mini Pride flags – passed out by fans in the queue for free before the show – wave up at Harry as he sings. And when a larger flag makes its way onto the stage, he holds it up and dances, urging the crowd “to be whoever you want to be”.

“It’s not that I don’t have people in real life telling me that, but it’s different when someone you aspire to be like says it,” Grace explains. As anything might, these messages of support feel more significant when delivered from a stage, and echoed back by a crowd who agrees. From Harry's mouth in a room filled with admirers, such messages feel not only powerful, but genuine.

London, Night Two

Harry Styles, notoriously, doesn’t say much. While parasocial celebrity-fan relationships thrive on Twitter, his tweets read as if randomly generated by an extremely grateful bot. His live show is similar: each night, his between-song banter is near-verbatim to the previous, a carousel on which phrases like “I’m Harry, and I’m from England,” and “My job for the next hour is to entertain you,” spin round evening after evening. To see one show is to see them all. But for those in the front row, following Harry on tour feels like the only way to access the person beneath the persona.

“Because he’s so inaccessible online, it means more in person,” Grace says, “We’ve learned to work around that. If you’re first or second row, he’ll interact with you in some way. That’s your accessibility.”

Yesterday, fans attempted to use this access to bring Harry’s attention to the Black Lives Matter movement. Hoping for an acknowledgement similar to his support for the LGBTQ+ community they brought Black Lives Matter signs which – whether intentionally or not – he didn't pull up on stage to wave as well. By the second night Harry’s lack of attention toward these placards has become a big point of contention among fans; the fact he didn’t respond to the signs the previous night felt, to some fans, off brand from his accepting persona. And yet, once again, his eyes passed over the raised signs as if they read a message in a different language and, for Harry, they might as well have. Aside from a small hat-tip to “all the different kinds of messages in the crowd”, the evening passes without note.

After the show, one fan roasts him online with a photoshopped image of a hand that reads like a cheat sheet of his onstage script: “You all look ____ this evening,” it says, alluding to the slight variation in adjective each night. After a parenthetical reminder for Harry to smile, it urges, as if he were in danger of stating the directive instead of acting, “Don’t say out loud!” But Harry doesn’t need the reminder. He doesn’t, after all, say much of anything anyway. He dances his dance, recites his script, then the lights go off.

Manchester, Night Three

Four hours before doors open, Ruth applies makeup in a hotel room she’s rented to store her things, which is littered with tour merchandise, hair straighteners, and phone chargers. When I ask about the second show in London, she confesses that she left the show early in order to join the Manchester queue. “We had to miss Harry in order to see Harry,” she explains. “I was in the back, having a great time, but I would sacrifice three songs to be able to see him closer for the whole set.”

For fans who follow their fave, going to multiple shows permits this type of comparative economics. But tonight, Ruth is worried more about Harry himself. After 16 nights of the same set, she’s concerned that he’s bored. Each night, Harry performs his new single “Kiwi” twice. Initially repeated at the request of fans on the American leg of the tour, the song’s encore has now become somewhat of a gimmick, as Styles and the band stop and restart the song depending upon the crowd’s level of energy. Tonight, however, Ruth is hoping for a change. “Instead of chanting ‘Kiwi’ again like normal, we’re gonna chant ‘Girl Crush,’ and see if he wants to mix it up a bit. As much as I love seeing it, he must be bored doing the same thing.” Ruth admits that that probably won’t happen. “But I think it’d be nice for him to know that people are interested in change,” she shrugs.

That evening, Harry sings “Kiwi” twice, as usual, and gives the same speech that he gave in London, that he’ll give in Amsterdam and Milan. His job, tonight and in perpetuity, is to entertain us; ours is to be whoever we want to be in this room, and the next, and the next. Injecting variety into this process feels a bit like a Sisyphean task, but the struggle is enough to keep fans coming back each night anyway. One must imagine Harry Styles fans happy. And they are. It helps, in the end, that the show is an entertaining one.

Amsterdam, Night Four

Dani, 21, is showing off her new trousers. After sleeping on the sidewalk, she realised she had nothing fun to wear, and stopped by H&M. Their floral print, she says, reminded her of Harry’s own predilection for flowers and patterns. Though One Direction “weren’t big back then” in her home country of Bulgaria, she’s been a fan since 2010 . Tonight is her fourth and final show, and she compares her three previous ones casually. Night one in London was great, but Harry seemed better the second night – happier, and “less stressed.” Manchester was her favorite because “he was more himself.”

Like many fans, Dani knows Harry’s performance by heart. But she finds the show’s sameness exciting: “He’s so predictable, I love it. I end up talking over him. But you never know what’s going to happen. All you know is, ‘I’m seeing Harry tonight.’ What if he ends up doing something nobody expects?”

Before the show, I’m given a “Black Lives Matter” sign which I hold from my spot in the second row. When Harry sees it, he nearly flinches, either in shock or out of discomfort. Though I expect this, the reaction stings as much as it empowers. Because for a moment, I understand why Ruth, Dani, and Grace sleep on the street – to look at Harry and have him look back is intoxicating. All continues as usual, but Harry Styles and I now share a secret. Few people notice that the show, for a second, teeters on his silence, his adherence to a script that most don’t even realise exists.

Milan, Night Five

Grace has decided against queuing.

“It’s not about the show count. It’s about seeing and being with him. Obviously I’m there for the music, but it’s the same every time. I’m supporting him.”

For Grace, this means holding Harry accountable for what he does and does not say. And though they try to intervene, fans do understand the repetition. When I catch up with Ruth, it’s with the same kind of diplomacy that made them look less crazy back in London that she says, “Concerts are for people to go once, they aren’t meant to go to 500 times.”

In a few hours, the curtain will fall on the European tour without an unscripted word uttered about black lives, the controversy his silence has stirred up amongst fans, or anything else of significant consequence. Instead Harry will wave a Pride flag, silently. Grace will cry when he speaks Italian. For now though she’s visibly frustrated, longing for something that, seemingly, all his travelling fans are waiting for: the moment Harry goes rogue and deviates from the script.

“It’d be nice if he said something you didn’t think he was going to say,” she says, and it sounds a bit like his refrain in “From the Dining Table.” Why don’t you ever say what you wanna say? Styles is the one asking, but fans want an answer.

From Pride flags, to treating people with kindness, a good portion of Harry Styles’ popularity with fans lies in his populism. On stage, he is the embodiment of the will of the fans, the vessel who waves the flag they throw, and in him they find all things from acceptance, to fashion inspiration. But for many fans, his comfortable silence is, to quote the man himself, “so overrated.” For those who see themselves in Harry, urging him to use his platform to speak about issues that matter is as integral to the fan experience as camping and queueing and loving the product itself. The European tour may end tonight, but they will be back in the spring, and in the summer.

“Use your voice, Harry,” Grace sighs. She pauses, then adds, whether in defense of herself or of him: “I’m still here though.”

#harry styles #the pink tour press #this is an interesting read #but tbh my main take from it is 'concerts are for people to go once they aren't meant to go to 500 times'#cause the repetitivenes of concerts is like one of the most obvious and most common things ever #it's not sth that itself can constitute an argument against an artist #also #why talk abt the blm issue when you don't mention that he did address it at one point

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