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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Be Forever Young (Reid Fluff Fic)

Summary: After Penelope’s resignation from the BAU, she attempts to set up her tech protégé, Reader, with Reader’s intellectual match yet much older counterpart - Dr. Spencer Reid.

A/N: The POV switches between Reader and Spencer, just use context clues to detect who the narrator is. Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: 21 year age gap, headcannon proposal Playlist: Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny Word Count: 6.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Prologue

Events like these weren’t exceedingly rare. They weren’t anything like Halley’s Comet, by any means, where it only happens once in your lifetime - if you’re lucky. But they weren’t exactly sunrises - something that you can count on occurring every day without fail.

The best celestial phenomenon I could compare it to are blue moons. Rare enough to still have an element of surprise when they came, but not so rare that I should never expect them.

These ‘blue moons’ are actually the events in which I meet an intellectual match.

It’s not too often that I find a mind quite like mine, so you’ll forgive me for the reaction it elicits to watch them transcend the physical level and connect with me on the psychological one. There’s only been a handful of people who’ve ever had the exact standard of aptitude to be permissible into this metaphysical world with me, but now - there’s a handful and one.

The newest addition to the list is her.

_ _ _

Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia is nearly impossible. Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia about Dr. Spencer Reid is impossible.

I couldn’t tell you when the first time she brought him up was, but I could probably tell you just how many times since then she’s mentioned him.

A trillion. At least.

For months on end, he was the only thing she would talk to me about. Morning, noon, and night. Every single day she’d gush about him with the same unrelenting zeal as she had the day before and the day before that. It was both scary and impressive how she never seemed to run out of good things to say about him.

“You would just die for his apartment. It’s got this super chic dark academia thingy going on. You’d be really into that,” she would say. Or something to that effect. I was never really listening.

Not that I wasn’t interested in learning about Dr. Reid - I was very interested in him.

As a superior.

I first learned of him when he taught my Psych 101 class. Freshman year me was simply enthralled with him as a speaker, probably due to the charm of his awkward humor. I found it eerily relatable and touching, in a way. That was probably my favorite class, minus the assholes who made it less than enjoyable at times. (That’s a story for later).

The next interaction I had with him happened not even a year later when he came back after temporarily teaching to sit in on a philosophy class. Even though he was only auditing the lecture, whereas I was enrolled in the course, he ended up sitting in the seat right beside me. Had he not been gifted with an eidetic memory - a fact I found out during one of my obsessive research sessions - I doubt he would’ve even remembered sitting next to me.

Our shared field of work helped to bring us back together repeatedly throughout college. I would run into him at seminars, workshops, once even at a library where we were both looking for the same book.

But for the most part, our relationship was parasocial. It largely consisted of me learning from him at a distance. I would use his brilliant research to support my own assignments, read the books he recommended, audit the classes he would teach.

Rather than accurately interpreting my very limited, very professional connection to Dr. Reid, Penelope was deliberately using it as ammunition for her arsenal of reasons why I should consider dating him.

“You guys are basically already friends, and nothing is cuter than the friends-to-lovers trope!” Now that she actually did say, and the only reason I remember it verbatim was it was so outrageous I couldn’t not remember it.

And probably because she just said it to me right now.

“We’re not friends! We’re ... acquaintances. Colleagues, if you will.” My attempts to gain distance from Penelope and this topic of conversation were crashing and burning. The more I tried to walk away from her, the faster she would chase me. It was inconceivable how she managed to do that and continue to pelt me with her perky persistence.

“Even better! You know I’m no stranger to workplace romances.”

That I did. One Derek Morgan or one Luke Alvez ring a bell?

“Dr. Reid and I don’t work together,” I reminded her, if only to burst her bubble of insanity.

“Exactly my point! If you two don’t work together, then there’s nothing keeping you apart.”

I was stopped dead in my tracks, almost causing Penelope to trip since she was right on my heels.

“Nothing? Really? Try 21 years.”

That surely kept us apart.

Our age gap was one of those glaring disparities Penelope couldn’t wave away with her magic wand. Frankly, it wasn’t an age gap so much as it was an age Grand Canyon. He was a whole person of legal drinking age older than me!

Hell - our age gap itself was older than me!

Maybe there weren’t any contracts or agreements or supervisors to keep us apart, but there was still one significant thing doing that.

Time. Arguably the most important thing you needed to get right for a relationship to work.

If there were any chance that he and I were good together, that was squandered by our divergence in age.

Right person, wrong time ... but wrong time by more than two decades.

I could see the smallest fragment of hope wither away in Garcia’s eyes, and it actually hurt to have known that I caused that. Her voice was more solemn when she said, “You don’t have to date him, I just want you to go on a date. Get to know each other better. Who knows? You might finally graduate from colleagues to BFF’s.”

Not that I was seriously considering the possibility of growing closer to Dr. Reid, but there was one question lingering in my mind.

“Does he even want to go on this date? Have you asked him how he feels about it?”

Part of why I was wondering was on the off chance that she’d tell me he had the same objections towards this that I did, which would be good news for me since it would mark my reluctance as a sound judgment. If there was anyone whose opinion was worth something, it was his, right? After all, he was the provable genius in the same compromising position as me.

“Trust me, he’s been dying to do this.” In spite of her preface to trust her, I didn’t. I couldn’t be sure if she was suggesting that he’d been dying to go on a date with me or if he’d been dying to go on a date in general.

No offense to him, but I guessed it was the latter, and if that was the case, he was only being a team player because she hadn’t told him it was me she was setting him up with. Already suspecting that I’d probe further to navigate through her vagueness, she cut in with one last Hail Mary. “One date! That’s all!”

Whether you believe me or not, 100% the only reason why I said what I said next was to put an end to this madness. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Maybe 99.99%.

_ _ _

I never knew how I could lose so much time. Sure, if anyone asked, I could probably account for everything I’d done in my day, second by second. But still, there was this cloudiness, a fog, inhabiting my brain, casting this haze on whatever else dwelled in my mind, too.

I couldn’t focus on anything for more than 4 seconds at a time, and while that wasn’t incredibly concerning for the average human, it was disconcerting for me.

What was going on?

What is going on?

“What’s going on?”

Suddenly, a hand began to wave in front of my face. “Yoo-hoo? Anybody in there?” JJ wondered aloud, causing me to realize it was her voice that asked the question from before.

“Yeah, sorry,” I shook my head to regain some clarity, but that did me no good. My foggy brain still remained. It goes without saying my words were worth nothing as well. JJ saw right through me in a way that never failed to scare me shitless. I could never conjure up a lie good enough to follow that look she’d give me. So I settled for the truth. The question that cast the haziness in my brain to begin with.

“What do you think about me dating again?”

If I thought that first look was bad, then the one she was giving me now was something of a nightmare. At least with the first, I knew what she was thinking. With this one, I hadn’t a clue.

To relieve us from some of the insufferable silence, I found myself speaking again in my defense. “Garcia mentioned something earlier about setting me up with someone and it got me thinking.”

Thinking about Max that is.

Being my most recent girlfriend, it made sense why she was freshest in my mind. That being said, we’ve been broken up for 14 months, which in any other context would seem like more than enough time to start dating again, but therein lies the catch.

We didn’t just break up. She said “no” when I asked her to marry me, which, if you ask me, is one hell of a way to break up.

So from that perspective, it obviously begs the question: is 14 months too fast to move on from something like that?

JJ sharply inhaled. “Well, are you ready to start dating again?”

I still didn’t have an answer for that myself. “I don’t know. There isn’t exactly a rulebook on how long you have to wait until it’s socially acceptable-”

“Lemme stop you right there, Spence,” She placed her hand on top of mine. “You can’t just do whatever statistics or studies or science say is right all the time. You not only need to be more in tune with your own needs but accepting of them, too. Screw what anyone else has to say about you dating again - including Socrates, including Einstein, including Aristotle ... including me. Do whatever you think is acceptable by your standards - not society’s. Do what you wanna do and I’ll support that.”

There was something special about having JJ’s approval. It was like getting permission to be excited, something I didn’t know I needed or wanted.

“I’m ready.”

Born ready, as Penelope herself would say.

_ _ _

I was starting to get suspicious that maybe I had an invisible string attached to me and on the other end of that string was Penelope. It was the only explanation as to how she managed to trail behind me at an isochronal pace. Perfectly equidistant, perfectly equal intervals of time. Must’ve been some form of magic that she was able to synchronize that connection for as long as she did as we pranced around the office, basically chasing me.

“Okay, I know the date isn’t until Saturday, but I really think we need to amp up your wardrobe choices ... like stat.”

Hearing that I was seeing my superior still didn’t settle well with me. I don’t think I could ever get used to the thought.

I should’ve been offended at her suggestion to change my clothing taste as it implied my stylistic choices weren’t up to par, but a part of me, a very small part of me, knew she was right. And just because I wasn’t keen on the idea of going on a date with Spencer didn’t mean I didn’t want to look nice for him for it.

“I’m assuming you’ve got some ideas in mind,” I said in a teasing voice, knowing that’s precisely why she brought it up.

“See! You are a genius! Exactly why you and Spencer are meant to be together!” Her exclamation was just as loud as it was outlandish.

“Alright, calm down sparky,” I shot a warning look. “It’s just one date - we’re not soulmates.”

Then, talking in the quietest voice I didn’t think Penelope was capable of speaking with, she said, “Not yet.”

I knew the minute I showed even the littlest bit of interest in Penelope’s fashion guidance, I’d end up draped in ruffles, sequins, glitter, tulle, rhinestones, or all of the above. Nothing again Penelope’s personal style - it’s just not mine.

I was scared to ask, but I had to know. “So what were you thinking?”

Before my very eyes, Penelope’s constantly-there smile transformed, something akin to the mischievous grin of the Cheshire Cat. “I was thinking …”

In a Mary Poppins-esque fashion, Penelope produced a dress that in no feasible reality should have been able to fit within that little Hello Kitty side bag.

I suppose it must’ve been absolutely backbreaking for Penelope to refrain from choosing a multicolor or at least pattern-riddled dress, so as compensation for the fact that it was only one singular color throughout, it had to be a bold one.

Red.

“Not too shabby, right?” Her eyebrows jumped on her forehead, knowing she’d made a good choice.

And a part of me actually died saying this, but it was pretty perfect.

_ _ _

My life didn’t flash before my eyes, per se, the moment I finally arrived at the delicatessen. It was more like a very specific, singular memory had flashed before my eyes.

That story for later? This is the one.

Psych 101 was my best class in Freshman year ... by a long shot. Come rain, wind, or snow, I was always excited to go. It was a standout course on its own, but not because it was terribly spectacular or the most fascinating subject in the world, but more so because of how it changed my own person. It challenged me, like all worthwhile things do.

There were more judgmental meatheads - boys, if you will - than not, who would jump down my throat for being a smart ass or a teacher’s pet if I so much as answered one of Dr. Reid’s questions. Par for the course, really.

As a result, I had a proclivity to avoid raising my hand. It wasn’t that I was hyper-fixated on managing my reputation, just that participating wasn’t worth the eventual harassment from my dimwitted classmates.

Nonetheless, one day, I felt compelled to answer Dr. Reid when he asked what our thoughts were about the sampled, pretense manifesto.

No one else was jumping at the chance to speak, perhaps they were just as cowardly as I was, and it was clear that he was going to stand there waiting until someone finally would. The silence was painfully awkward for everyone and so I felt obligated, as a student who was actually enrolled in the class for credit and not just to audit like 90% of the other girls here, to break it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, my hand hesitantly inched up into the air until it floated just high enough above the student in front of me’s head. As soon as I knew he saw it, I let it plunge straight back down.

“Yes, Ms. (y/l/n)?”

I could already feel the dirty looks and snide comments coming before I even said a word.

“I know we’re all collectively referring to this unsub as a man, and while that might just be a general assumption or Freudian slip perhaps ... I think the language is steeped in betrayal and contempt. And it would be ignorant not to notice how it reads more like the wrath of a woman scorned than your typical jilted male lover.”

“Lover?” Someone two rows back snickered quietly, clearly to mock my choice of words. I didn’t even have to look to know it was Brad who had said that. Nevertheless, Dr. Reid was impressed with my answer. His lips curved into the faintest smile as he nodded his head. If he had heard the commentary of one Brad Sterling, he made no visceral reaction to it.

With an extended hand, palm facing up, he gestured for me to, “Please. Stand up.”

I fumbled my way up and out of my seat to possibly delay the shit I’d get for this mere action.

“That, ladies and gentleman, is what it looks like to have courage,” He underlined his words with a grand flourish of his hand in my direction. “Putting yourself on the line even in the event you’ll be mocked and ridiculed or deemed wrong. That’s something you’ll need if you are seriously considering being part of the BAU, or the FBI at any capacity.”

My face was flushed from the acclaim he was showering me with. Suddenly, I was glad I volunteered.

Taking me completely by surprise, Dr. Reid wasn’t done yet.

“So, Mr. Sterling,” He began, directly calling out the boy in the back who without a doubt made the remark. I wouldn’t have had any reason to believe he heard it since his attention never diverted away from me long enough to catch the comment, much less the culprit. I wonder if he’d heard all the times Brad made jokes at my expense. Was he finally at his wits end with the sarcasm? “Make fun all you want, but might I suggest that if you like a girl, you do the opposite of that.”

His sickly sweet drawl was followed by a short wink at me as if to say ‘I have your back’, and I was lucky to have already been in the process of sitting back down because my knees would’ve given out underneath me from the sheer exhilaration of his praise.

The thought never once crossed my mind that Brad was so fixated on me because he had a crush, but it all made sense once it did. And if I didn’t know any better, Dr. Reid only humiliated him and brought it up because the realization dawned on him, too.

Was it possible that Dr. Reid was ... jealous?

In the spirit of complete transparency, that suspicion may have lit the tiniest wildfire imaginable in my chest. A wildfire that, even now, has yet to extinguish. Perhaps that little flame is the 0.01% of the reason I said yes. I could only imagine what kind of omnipotence it would soon gain if this date went well.

If he could light such an enduring kindle with simple praise, think about what would happen if he smiled at me. If he laughed at my jokes. If he held my hand.

If he kissed me.

Dr. Reid’s validation would be something I actively sought from all walks of life, I knew that much. What I didn’t know was how far that desire would take me.

I would have never guessed it would lead me here.

Standing in front of a fancy restaurant in a pretty red dress with the tenuous hope that the professor inside might just like it so much that he’ll end up liking the girl wearing it, too.

_ _ _

No matter how many times I adjusted the bouquet of poppies, they sat perpetually crooked on the table. Much like the dark gray tie around my neck that tightened around my throat with every passing second. I had to keep messing with it to loosen the noose-like grip it had on me. Who knew if it actually was becoming more restricting or it was the flourishing bundle of nerves in my stomach that made it harder to breathe.

I was never very good at lying in wait patiently. Especially if I was expecting something. Now that I was expecting someone? I could say with perfect clarity - I was not good at waiting.

I don’t wanna seem the way I do

Every time the door opened, my eyes flashed to it instantaneously. And every time it wasn’t her, a little part of me was disappointed. It was still too early to say for certain that she was standing me up, but my mind was doing what it did best. It wandered. There was nothing else to do after all.

Except maybe adjust those blood orange poppies one more time.

I’d picked them out specifically because Penelope slipped in a not-so-subtle comment about her dress being “a perfect match to the color of papaverales” - her words exactly. I thought if she went through that much trouble to find a color coordinated plant and say the scientific name for me to decode, it was worth picking up a bouquet of them on the way.

It was only the most ironic occurrence in the world that when I went to rearrange them one last time, I devoted my full attention to the action, missing the very moment I was on the lookout for the past hour and a half.

I didn’t even see her until the red poppies camouflaged into the identically colored setting of her dress.

Then there she was.

All the disappointment in the world was worth that first time I saw her with fresh eyes.

I was dumbstruck for a moment, long enough that it warranted an apology for not standing up sooner.

“(Y/n)! Hi!” I accidentally squealed. I couldn’t control myself, let alone control the pitch of my voice apparently.

I could see, in her, youthful naivete where, in others, I saw their age. She paradoxically had not aged a minute, and yet a new womanhood was piercing through her ultimately adolescent appearance.

“Hi, Dr. Reid,” She said through a laugh and a smile, shaking my hand politely and professionally. She was greeting me like I was still her professor and she’d just happen to run into me on an errand. Next, she’d be attempting small-talk for as long as it took for me to let her go.

Unfortunately for her, I had no plans for that.

But I’m confident when I’m with you

“Please, it’s just Spencer,” I reminded her, hoping to break down that governing image of me she surely maintained.

“Spencer,” She tried again; doing it more to be obedient to my instruction than to satisfy her own desire. It sounded so unnatural to her, just as it did to me. I found it adorable, actually. It seemed like she was breaking this unspoken, and very much illusionary rule to say my first name. “It’s nice to see you again,” She added after I pulled out her chair for her.

“Is it?” I asked when I rounded the table to get to my seat. “I get the feeling you’re a little disappointed.” The only reason I pointed it out was that it was true, not just that I’d observed the notion grow more poignant in her face for the past minute.

“Not at all,” She shook her head, which luckily for me, drew a line of congruence between her body language and verbal language. At least, she was being truthful. “It’s just that I’m sort of embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” I repeated in astonishment, unable to cultivate a list of reasons that would justify her feeling that way. I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done to provoke that emotion, and it nearly broke me to consider her internal being substantiating it.

“Embarrassed isn’t the right word, but I can’t find a more accurate one for what I’m feeling,” She shied away from my eyes when she lowered her head as she spoke.

“You could try to explain it to me?” I offered gently. It took an overwhelming amount of self-restraint to not offer my hand with it. It would’ve been so easy to slide my hand across the threshold to enter her territory of the table, but who knows if doing so would just make her that much more uncomfortable.

“Well for one thing, I don't really go on dates,” From this alone, I could already relate to her enough to laugh at the fact. “Don’t laugh at me! You know how dangerous first dates can be,” She swatted her hand in my direction to chastise me.

“I do! I do! I think it’s really good that you’re protecting yourself to the point of avoiding dates,” I was teasing the implication that she wasn’t asked to go on very many, which was thankfully delivered well enough to make her laugh again.

“Hey! Many people have wanted to go on dates with me, thank you very much. You included.”

“Me included.” I nodded in approval. We sat in a short period of silence while we exchanged one soulful glance, borne from the insinuation of what I just said.

“And for another ... I respect you too much as a figure of authority to see you in that way.”

_ _ _

“In what way?”

Rather than tossing me a lifeline, he was feeding me to the sharks. Forcing me to dive into the deep end. He wanted to see me struggle to stay afloat in the sea of his sticky toffee eyes. He knew I'd get suspended in them when he gave me that look. How much I’d be willing to get lost in them just so I could wander in the depths of his honeyed orbs for a little bit longer.

That look ...

“You don’t find it weird?” This was the most honesty I could’ve demonstrated.

“Find what weird?” For someone with such a high IQ, you’d think he’d be quicker on his feet.

“This! You - me. On a date!” I gestured to the space between us. “You’re ... well frankly, Spencer, you’re old enough to be my father.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” He genuinely cared about the answer.

“Only in theory. Not in actual life,” was the most precise response I could give.

“So what is making you uncomfortable?” Again, I could tell my answer mattered to him.

“You were my professor once, and now I’m just supposed to go on a date with you and see you as my equal when I’ve spent the entire time I’ve known you, putting you on a pedestal? Do you know how much pressure that puts on me? To be perfect?”

“Who says you have to be perfect? Who says you’re aren’t already?”

That one caught me off guard. I had to gulp down the lump of shock.

“You think I’m perfect?”

“That, or you’re pretty close to it.”

Lately all I feel is bad and bruised

I could’ve smiled, I could’ve thanked him, I could’ve fallen at his feet and thrown my dignity down there along with it, but I just laughed. I laughed.

“That’s ridiculous! You barely know me.”

“You’re wrong,” He simply replied with a firm shake of his head and a cavalier sip at his drink. It showed just how confident he was in his answer. How cocky he was.

“How am I wrong?”

He cleared his throat as though he were preparing to deliver the world’s greatest speech. Then, he leaned forward, motioning with his fingers for me to do the same.

“If I’m remembering correctly, which you know I am, you were the student who had the gall to raise your hand and correct me on my gender identification of the unsub, right?”

The second the sentimental thought, ‘aww he remembered’, came into my head, it was soon followed by, of course, he did, idiot. Eidetic memory, remember?

Tired of tripping on my shoes

“What does that have to do with me being perfect? Or so you claim?”

He was piercing deep into my eyes now, his gaze overwhelming my senses and sending shockwaves akin to the feeling of butterflies everywhere … and I mean everywhere.

“Bravery is the audacity to be unhindered by failures, and to walk with freedom, strength, and hope, in the face of things unknown.”

I recognized the quote as one of Morgan Harper Nichols, but the words went right to my chest like they were his own.

That damn wildfire just got a whole lot bigger.

“I’ve always thought about how if I could be unfazed by failure or even just the prospect of it, if I could just be strong enough or have enough hope to face what I couldn’t predict, I’d be set. I’d be golden,” He paused. “I’d be perfect ... but you? You, little one, have already got that figured out. So whether that means you’re perfect on your own because of your bravery or you're a perfect match for someone fainthearted like me, is up for you to decide. Whichever interpretation of being perfect you choose would be correct, but you should know - I meant both either way.”

But when he loves me I feel like I’m floating

When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody

Even when we fade eventually to nothing

You will always be my favorite form of loving

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked when he finally refound his voice.

“Since the minute I walked in.” I replied after refinding mine.

_ _ _

“You always take girls to your apartment on the first date, Doctor?” Asking this in the name of taking a jab at him was the most clever way I could think to conceal my underlying motive of trying to gauge how giddy I could let myself feel about the fact that he’d taken me to his ‘super chic dark academia’ themed residence - Penelope’s words, remember?

“Well, in my abundant dating history,” He sarcastically began, “I can’t say I ever have, no. You’d be the first.”

That shot another quick bolt of lightning to the wildfire in my heart that I’m ashamed to admit made the heat reinvigorate. The flame must’ve been too much for my chest to contain so it had to relocate to my face, where my cheeks were left to burn under his gaze and thanks to his admission.

I was the first.

He must’ve seen the glint localizing on my countenance and decided to speak on it. “Why does that amuse you?”

“I don’t know,” I dumbly but truthfully replied. He didn’t need any more information to get his answer, though. Because even if I didn’t know what amused me about being his first, I never denied that it did, and that was more than enough confirmation for him.

“You promise to be here when I come back?” He wagged a cautionary finger at me like it might persuade me to stay and hold me accountable if I didn’t.

Spencer needed to go into his room to collect an item that ‘shall not be named’ but was apparently essential for our super secret plans tonight (secret to even me) and he was leaving me in the living room while he did so. I guess being the initial girl he took home on a first date was okay, but being the initial girl he took into his bedroom on a first date was crossing a line.

That was alright with me, though. I was in this for the long haul.

“I promise I pose no flight risk, Your Honor,” I taunted with a coy tone. “But I can’t promise I won’t snoop around some.” Hey, at least I was telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

“Snoop around all you want,” He laughed ruefully, demonstrating an openness I quite envied and admired. “You’ll probably learn a lot about me that way. And you won’t even have to talk to me to do that!” I knew he was only saying that out of self-deprecating tendencies he harbored, but I couldn’t help feeling that a small part of him actually believed that I wasn’t interested in talking to him.

“Spencer, you know I do like talking to you right?” I caught him just before he ran into his room. Already halfway in the door, I could still catch the megawatt smile on his face.

“So stay then,” His smile grew impossibly bigger. “We can talk all you want when I get back.”

The door closed, and then suddenly reopened to let just his face through, a face that said, ‘Don’t go anywhere.’

After a few minutes of loudly sorting through his room, I heard the sanctimonious cry of victory. “Found it!”

I could hear the little pad of his feet and he happily trotted out of the room. “Ta-da! My stargazing kit.” He said it as though he were introducing the basket he was holding to me, and me to it. Like it was a real person he wanted me to know. I almost felt obliged to say, ‘Hi stargazing kit! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m (y/n)!’

“Let’s go,” He smiled, reaching for my hand.

I unabashedly took it, because although it meant that I was truly leaving his apartment, I had a very strong feeling that I would be back here again one day.

_ _ _

We were lying there on this big quilted comforter that was stashed away in that stargazing kit of his, staring up at the sky, drunk on the sound of our occasional fits of laughter.

“It’s Earth Day, you know that?” I wondered aloud in a state of complete euphoria.

“I actually did,” He said through a sheepish laugh, almost as if he was admitting the knowledge of it against his own will to protect my fragility.

From out of nowhere, there was a small tug on the skirt of my dress. I looked down to find Spencer’s hand there, playing with the fabric until it lay perfectly on my leg.

I coughed to possibly relieve the tension brewing in my loins. “So then you know the Lyrid meteor shower is tonight,” I moved the tiniest bit closer to lean into his touch.

“At exactly 4:33 a.m,” He moved too.

“Is that why you brought me here? To watch the shooting stars? To make a wish?” I thought for a second that I would appear exceedingly childish - more so than I already did being 21 years his junior. But he didn’t judge me at all for the kid-like notion of making a wish on a shooting star or the implication that I still believed in those things.

In fact, I piqued his curiosity, telling by the way he moved only his head to the side to watch my reaction. “Say I did. What would you wish for?”

In the throws of dreamy elation, I softly murmured the only honest answer. “To be older. But not the unfulfilling 9 to 5, loveless marriage, ‘I do my taxes for fun’ older. I want to be old in the ways that the stars and the sky are old. I want to be infinite.”

“...To be infinite.” He whispered my wish back, sounding sort of in awe of me.

Just then, the overhead horizon grew larger. With no buildings or people to block the view, it was just us, the stars, and the sky. I could actually feel that I was lying on a planet. It was so wide. So infinite.

“Can I hold your hand?” I asked softly, in a manner so vulnerable it scared me.

Without any words or hesitation, he put my hand in his.

“The universe seems so big right now. I just needed something to hold onto.” I explained quietly, practically with the hopes that he wouldn’t hear me. But he heard.

“I’m here.”

We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two people, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. We weren’t divided by power, or age, or space. We were ourselves and no one else.

My eyes fluttered shut again and a smile stretched across my face. “Stargazing was a good idea.”

The world and the sky and the stars and I - we were all infinite. I couldn’t have felt bigger in my own body. In the best way possible, I was taking up so much space. I was occupying the earth. I was made up of matter. I mattered.

Just as I began to open my eyes, I caught a glimpse of a fading shooting star. Though I had wished to be older, I still felt like a child. Then it hit me. I didn’t feel older because I wasn’t older.

I was infinite.

Yes, I was a child, but not in the pinch your cheeks, bottles and pacifiers, babyish way. I was a child in the ‘you have a life full of possibilities ahead of you’ way.

You are young. He tells me with his eyes. And that is a good thing. Be forever young.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

https://wiypt-writes.tumblr.com/post/644486634874847232/stark-spangled-banner

Ch58: You Have To Go Through The Worst, To Get To The Best.

Intro: In the aftermath of the battle, Katie grieves for Tony as the world comes to terms with the fact that people they lost five years ago have reappeared.

Warnings: “Language!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: This is it! We head into the last part and as such, a brand new banner again from @angrybirdcr. Only a few chapters left.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 57

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Sorry for your loss.

Four words that Katie was already sick of hearing. Sorry. What did people have to be sorry for? It wasn’t like it was their fault. Still, she acknowledged the sympathy that came her way, completely automatically, almost emotionlessly. She barely registered the fact she had spoken to Fury and Hill, two people who had been dead five years ago, she didn’t have the energy to wish she could knock Ross’ head off his shoulders and had no idea how long she had walked what was left of the compound, maybe an hour or so? Who cared anyway? She simply did what people asked her to do to help out, whilst Steve hurried around organising everyone and barking orders.

Nevertheless, when the crowds of Emergency Services, Armed Forces and Support Staff that had flooded the Compound left, she suddenly felt alone and found herself in their compound apartment, which had miraculously survived bar from a smashed window in the living area. She glanced around before she headed to the bedroom and slumped heavily on the large bed, staring at the wall.

Just staring.

It was quiet, but her mind was anything but. Her brain was screaming all sorts of stuff at her, a jumble of words and sounds and visions, but she couldn’t really understand any of it.

She simply felt broken.

“Katie?”

A voice broke through her reverie and she looked up to see Steve in the doorway.

“Hey.” She gave him a soft smile. “Pepper just spoke to Happy, the kids are fine. All three are fast asleep. He’s going to wake them in a few hours and bring them back.” “No.” Katie shook her head. “I want him to bring them now.” “Honey its almost two am.” He said, and Katie frowned. Okay, so she’d been walking around a little longer than she thought, then. “Let them sleep. We can go, get cleaned up and…” “Plan how we tell them their Uncle is dead.” She swallowed, gazing back down at her hands.

Steve took a shaky breath. He felt beyond guilty. Guilty that he got to go home to his kids because of the fact that Tony didn’t. Steeling himself, he made his way to the bed, sat down next to his wife and wrapped his arm around her as she lay her head on his shoulder.

“What’s everyone doing?” She asked softly.

“Rhodey is in with Ross and President Ellis…” “Ellis is here?” She looked at him, frowning.

Steve nodded. “Rhodey’s giving him a brief on what’s happened. They’re gonna need to put an announcement out so…”

“Suppose it was probably a shock everyone re-appearing again.” She reasoned, quietly. “What about everyone else?”

“Well Lang, Parker and Bruce already left.” Steve explained as his hand gently rubbed up and down her arm. “And there’s a chopper on the way to take Pepper home and a couple more following to take the rest of us to the Tower. The roads are completely jammed, apparently there’s impromptu parties taking place all over. Might be a while before we can get back through to Brooklyn.” The thought of partying seemed alien to Katie, but as she thought about it, it wasn’t surprising. People would be greeting lost loved ones, celebrating the fact the world has returned to normal.

For them anyway.

“Clint will want to go home.” Katie nodded. “He’ll be desperate to see Laura and the kids.” “We’ve got a jet on the way for him so he can go as soon as possible.” Steve soothed, dropping a kiss to her head.

If ever Katie was grateful for having a husband with Military organisational skills it was now. He’d literally thought of everything. She closed her eyes and nuzzled into him even more, seeking out comfort like a child, before Steve reached around and pulled her onto his lap, holding her close to him, as they sat in silence.

****

“I guess this is strange for you too, huh?” Steve said as they made their way into the Tower. “Yeah you could say that.” Sam shrugged, “One minute everyone was in Wakanda and then the next minute it was just us, and the jungle had changed.” He paused, scratching his head. “Then that Strange dude turns up and tells us it’s been five years and we needed to go fight one last time.”

“Has it really been that long?” Bucky asked and Steve nodded. “So now you’re older than me?” He grinned. Steve chuckled as Katie gave a small smile. “Shut up.”

They made their way into the elevator and FRIDAY greeted them, somewhat forlornly, as Katie asked for their floor. The elevator fell silent as it scooted upwards, pinging open. Katie stepped out first, followed by Wanda then the men.

“So, where do you want-“Bucky began but he stopped dead causing Sam to bump into him.

“What the hell, Frosty?” he spluttered, frowning as he followed Bucky’s eye line, his own eyes growing wide as he saw what Bucky was staring at. Wanda was also gazing, her mouth open, and Steve immediately knew what they were looking at- the large framed photo on the wall in the living room.

Even though their home was in Brooklyn this was still very much their apartment. Katie sometimes stayed if she had a big meeting, or on occasions they would crash here when they grabbed a rare night out in Manhattan. And it was for that reason that the photos in the apartment had been updated over the past five years as their lives had moved on. The wall their friends were gazing at contained two prints. The first was one taken by Katie at the hospital when Jamie was hours old, the same photo also adorned the wall in the lounge at home and it showed Steve asleep in the chair by her hospital bed, hair unkempt, shirt crumbled, stubble on his chin as his baby son was clutched to his chest as they both slept. He remembered the moment like it was yesterday, one snapshot moment out of God knows how many, all of which the three people stood in front of him had missed.

The second was from last year, and showed Emmy with Alex as they sat on the sofa at home, both grinning at the camera.

“You…” Sam gasped as Wanda and Bucky turned to them, mouth hanging open.

Steve nodded, “Yeh, err, did no one tell you?” He asked, rubbing his neck.

“No.” Bucky breathed.

“But then it never really cropped up in conversation, you know, on account of us being in the middle of a battle and all.” Sam said, a little sarcastically and Wanda thumped his arm before she turned to Katie.

“How old?” She asked softly.

“Emily is sixteen next week.” Katie said, looking at the photos smiling softly. “We adopted her after the snap, it’s a long story.”

She then looked at Steve who smiled, knowing she was allowing him the task of revealing their boy’s name to two of the men he was named after.

“And Jamie’s three.” He turned to look at Bucky and Sam.

“Jamie?” Bucky asked thickly.

“Or to give him his full name James Anthony Samuel.”

Bucky and Sam exchanged a look, the pair of them floundering for words.

“Cap,” Sam swallowed, his eyes misting over. “Wow, I’m so happy for you guys.” “I can’t wait to meet them.” Wanda beamed.

“You might regret saying that.” Steve chuckled. “Emmy’s a sass bag and Jamie can be a handful. He’s only three but he’s stubborn, opinionated- don’t even say it.” He pointed at Bucky who had opened his mouth to comment, a grin spreading across his handsome face.

“They’re awesome.” Katie spoke softly as her eyes moved round the apartment and fell on a photo of her and Tony taken at her wedding. Suddenly she couldn’t be there anymore. Excusing herself she headed into their bedroom where she flopped onto the bed, now feeling utterly overwhelmed, still struggling to make head or tail of her emotions. She should have been celebrating like everyone else in the streets was doing. Their friends and trillions of other people were saved, but she couldn’t because again, just like the other week when they had grieved for Natasha, there was one person who wasn’t coming back.

Her brother.

Taking a deep breath, she shed her boots before she stood up and peeled off her cat suit before she made her way straight into the en-suite.

She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand, an attempt to sooth the pain she now felt in every inch of her body. But whilst some of it was bruising from the multiple blows she had taken, some of it was coming from inside. The pain of losing her brother was physical, and hard. Closing her eyes she lay her head against the tiles, allowing the water to beat down on her, lost in her memories. “I got full marks on my English essay Tone!” Her 10 year old self grinned up at him as he leaned against the car, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

“Get you, you little brainbox!” He ruffled her hair. “That’s awesome, so awesome in fact I think we need to stop for pizza and a shit load of ice cream on the way home. Sound good?” “You’re the best!” She beamed as he took her pink back-pack off her and dropped it into the trunk as she climbed into the passenger seat of his BWM.

“Oh no, you are not going out wearing that!” Tony stod up as she walked into the living room of the house. Sixteen year old Katie rolled her eyes.

“Tone its boiling hot outside, what you want me to wear? A pair of jeans and a fucking coat?” “Anything but that!” He scoffed, looking at the rather short denim skirt. “Young Lady, I can see what you had for breakfast!”

“Oh bite me, Tony.” She shot back, hearing the guffaw that Rhodey gave out from the sofa before she shot out of the front door to greet her boyfriend who had just pulled up the drive.

She was eighteen…, cruising along the cliff in Malibu, laughing, her hands on the steering wheel of her convertible bug, Tony in the passenger seat sipping an iced tea as the pair of them sang as loudly as they could to Drops of Jupiter- their song.

“Mr Rock and Roll over there, listen to you!” She laughed as the song finished and it changed to AC/DC ‘Thunder’.

“If you ever tell anyone about my love of Train I will kill you.” Tony looked at her over his sunglasses and she snorted, grinning.

“I’m so telling Pepper.”

“Err you know I can still pull my funding.” He glared “You can kiss goodbye to going to Oxford…”

And speaking of Oxford, at twenty-one, she was there, accepting her first class honours in English Literature and Mythology. As she smiled for the camera, she could see Tony stood up in the middle of the hall, whistling before he punched the air. “That’s my girl!” He yelled “Katie Maria Stark. That’s my girl! No I won’t sit down…what did you just say?” And he began arguing with the person behind him.

At twenty-six she was crying, tears of happiness as the ramp on the aircraft carrier opened to reveal her brother. His hair was longer, he looked thinner but he was alive. He was barely at the bottom before she flung herself at him, not caring that his arm was a sling.

“Hey Kiddo.” He said softly as she buried her face into his neck.

“You fucking asshole!” She sobbed, “Next time, you ride with Rhodey, you got that?”

“Trust me, there will be no next time.” He chuckled as she pulled back. “Afghanistan is a shit hole.”

A year later she was crying again, sobbing even, as Tony sat with his arms around her, gently shushing her as she sat up in her bed. “How could he do that to me Tony?” She sniffed, her tears dampening her brother’s t-shirt as he rubbed her back, laying his head against hers. “I thought he loved me…but…” “He isn’t worth your tears, Kiddo.” He sighed “Grant Ward doesn’t deserve them, or you. No one ever will, you got that? No one will ever be good enough for you.”

And then she was walking up the aisle towards her future husband, her arm linked tightly around Tony’s. He pressed a kiss to her head.

“Remember, just because I’m giving you away doesn’t mean I won’t kick his ass if he ever hurts you.” Tony mumbled and she snorted, turning to look at him. “I love you to the stars and back, Katie, remember that…”

Like she could ever forget. Tony hadn’t been to everyone’s taste, hell, at times he hadn’t be hers, and they’d been estranged for two years. But Katie had never, not once, stopped loving the man who had brought her up as his own. Her brother and father all rolled into one.

She finished washing her hair and stepped out of the shower, the tears still not arriving. She began to wonder if there was something wrong with her. She’d cried more when Natasha died. She pulled on a towel robe that was hanging behind the door and began to dry her hair, squeezing the water out of the long strands.

“I remember when you used to do that for me.” She grinned, watching Tony as he sat with Morgan between his legs on the lounger round the pool at her Brooklyn home, rubbing the little girl’s wet hair ferociously with a pink beach towel, making the three year old cackle with laughter. I remember…but Morgan won’t.

And then the cry ripped from her chest, like someone had reached down her throat and pulled it from the very depths of her heart.

***** Steve made sure the guys were settled in a spare apartment a few floors down, the three of them opting to share, none of them particularly wanting to be alone. Making his way back into theirs, he headed straight to the bedroom and heard Katie turn off the water to the shower. With a groan he stripped off the top half of his uniform, dropping the grubby item to the bed. His eyes were drawn to the silver star in the middle, and he ran his fingers over it, the material torn in places having seen better days, much like him.

With a deep breath he reached to pull off his compression shirt, but before he got chance, he heard a noise from the bathroom, a primal, raw, broken scream that chilled his every bone. Quick as flash he crossed the room and pushed open the door to the en-suite and found his wife slumped on her knees on the floor, screaming and crying uncontrollably.

“He’s gone! He’s gone, he’s gone!” Steve had known this was coming and it broke his heart that he could do nothing to help, nothing to take away the utter desperation and pain and anger his wife was feeling. Without hesitation he dropped to his knees and she turned to him, fisting her hands around his top as he pulled her close, one arm round her back, the other in her hair.

“Let it out,” his voice was croaky as he rocked her, gently stroking her hair as his cheek pressed against the top of her head, “I got you, sweetheart, I got you.” How long they stayed there for, with Katie screaming and crying over the soft sounds of his soothing, Steve had no idea, but eventually her sobs became sniffles as she regained some form of composure.

“Steve,” she managed to stutter as she pulled back to look at him, “Tony’s gone, he’s gone, why? Why did he have to do that? There had to be some other way!” “Oh, Doll.” Steve’s voice cracked, his own heart ached with grief and sympathy and love as he dropped a kiss to her forehead, pulling her onto his lap as he sat back on the floor, making no attempts to move her. He buried his face into her hair, his own sobs catching in his throat.

“All my life Tony has been there.” She whispered gently as kissed her head. “Even when we were apart those years I knew that if I needed him, he would be there…but now…he’s gone and I don’t know what to do.”

“You do what you always do.” Steve whispered softly as he pulled back, cupping her face in his hands, wiping her tears with his thumbs. “You get up, you dust yourself off and you act like the amazing, strong, beautiful woman you are. My wife, my baby momma.”

“I don’t know if I can. Katie spluttered.

“Yes, you can. You’re the strongest person I know.” He implored her, sniffing a little.

“I don’t feel strong.”

“You won’t.” He shook his head. “Not yet. But I’m here. Okay? And we’ll do it together.”

Katie looked at him for a moment before she moved once more to bury her face into his t-shirt again, simply breathed him in. His warmth and familiar smell, even if he wasn’t as fresh as he could be after the exertion of battle, was a comfort, a balm to her broken soul.

Tony was gone, she knew that, but she wasn’t on her own. She’d never be on her own as long as she had Steve.

****

“Don’t be sad Momma.” Jamie whispered, as Katie’s tears tickled down her cheeks, her son on her lap. TO her right, Emmy sat on her father’s, despite her age meaning she was normally way past that stage, as she cried into his chest, his arms gently cradling her. “Uncle Nee isn’t on his own.” “What do you mean, baby?” Katie asked, sniffing as he played with a strand of her hair.

He looked at her with his baby blue eyes and shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Because he’s with Auntie Nat-Nat.”

“Yeah,” Katie stuttered, a soft sob escaping her. “You’re right. But I’m still sad, but you don’t need to be worried about that okay?” Jamie nodded, before he blinked and frowned. “I can kiss it better, like you kiss my ouches better.”

Katie smiled as he leaned up, connecting his lips to hers with a loud smacking noise.

“That’s it, you just made it all okay.” She smiled, wiping her eyes.

“When can we go home?” Emmy asked, sitting up slightly, her voice croaky.

“Soon, I promise.” Steve looked at her. “I think we’ll stay here for tonight, your mom and I both need a rest.”

Emmy nodded “I expect kicking alien butt for hours takes it out of you.” Steve snorted. “A little.” “You did it though. Everyone came back.” “Yeah, and on that note,” Katie picked up, “we have some people we’d like you to meet. That’s if you’re feeling up to it.” “Is it them? Bucky, Sam and Wanda?” Emmy asked, her wet brown eyes opening wide.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled. “And, if it’s ok with you, we thought we could all have breakfast together.”

“Pancakes?” Jamie asked hopefully and Katie nodded, dropping a kiss to his head.

“Pancakes” She affirmed.

“Now?”

“Do you ever think about anything but this?” Katie chuckled, prodding his tummy. He pondered for a second.

“Legos.” he said, nodding. “I think about my legos sometime.”

Emmy snorted and Steve let out a little laugh “Pancakes and legos eh, son?” he reached out and ruffled Jamie’s hair. “What more could a three year old want?”

****

Manhattan was in utter chaos and going out in public was the last thing Steve or Katie wanted for fear of being mobbed. However, the kitchens in the tower were well stocked and after sending Emmy to forage what she could, it was easy for Katie to whip up a batch of batter and throw some bacon into a pan.

She set Emmy to work chopping some fruit, and never one to miss out, she stood Jamie on a chair in front of her and gently guided his hand as he held the whisk to stir the batter. Katie was literally grabbing the ladle to drop the first load into the pan, when the door to the apartment opened and Steve’s voice carried in to the kitchen.

“Hey guys?” Jamie squealed in excitement and Katie moved so he could get down. He shot out of the kitchen, barrelling into the lounge where he skidded to a halt by his dad and gazed up at the three strange adults in front of him.

The first thing that hit Bucky was just how like Steve the little boy was. Stocky, bright blue eyes and a shock of dark blonde hair.

“He looks like you.” He smiled, nodding to Steve as Katie stepped into the room with Emmy and smiled.

“Jamie, Emmy, this is Bucky, Sam and Wanda.” Steve introduced them all, as Emmy raised her hand shyly in greeting.

Meanwhile, Jamie simply gazed up at Bucky, his attention focussed directly on his metal arm and Bucky suddenly began to worry that it would scare him. He was attempting to move it out of view by standing side on, until Jamie stepped forward with all his usual boldness and pointed.

“Is that metal?” “Jamie.” Steve spoke, his tone soft. He couldn’t scald his son for being curious, but at the same time he had seen the apprehension in Bucky’s eyes. Apprehension that had now turned to amusement.

“Yeah it is.” Bucky chuckled, crouching down so he was eye level with his namesake. He held his left hand up, wiggling the fingers. “Wanna touch it?” Jamie reached out and placed his palm against Bucky’s prosthetic and grinned, “Cool,” before he looked up at Steve. “Can I have one?”

“Absolutely not.” Steve shook his head with a grin.

“You think that’s cool you should see my wings.” Sam crouched down next to Bucky, smiling at Jamie.

“You have wings?” The little boy’s eyes grew wide “I want…”

“No!”

“Fine I’ll just ask Santa.” Jamie shruggged and Sam let out a loud laugh.

“I like this kid!” he grinned, standing up.

“You can have him.” Steve winked, as Bucky stood up straight and grinned. “Saves us sending him to The Children’s Prison.” “Morgan told me there’s no such place.” Jamie looked at his Dad and Steve let out a sigh. The threat of the Child Prison was their biggest bargaining chip when he was being naughty. Especially as the naughty step wasn’t an option, because the first (and last) time they tried that they caught him climbing up the staircase and sliding down the bannister.

“I told you titch, it does.” Emmy gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I lived there before mom and dad adopted me. And all they give you to eat all day is slugs and slime…” Steve shared a look with Bucky and let out a loud laugh.

“Don’t.” Bucky shook his head with a grin.

“You gave Becca nightmares for days with that story!” Steve laughed as he recalled Bucky telling his sister about a hole in the ground where bad kids went. “She wouldn’t go near a manhole for months!”

“I can still feel the blow round the ears my Pa gave me.” Bucky automatically reached up to rub at the back of his head. The well natured chatter continued as they made their way into the kitchen. Steve went to brew the coffee as Sam, Wanda and Bucky took seats round the table with the kids. Occasionally he caught the odd snippet of their chat as Jamie told Bucky about his toys at home, informed Sam all about his friend at day-care, whilst Emmy was busy talking to Wanda about school and what she wanted to do in the future. But all the time Steve had one eye on his wife as she stood, silently, cooking enough pancakes to feed a small army.

Which, to be fair, was probably what they would need with two super soldiers and a hungry three year old to feed.

Moving over towards her, he slipped his arms around her waist and dropped a kiss to her cheek.

“You ok?” He asked, before he sighed “Sorry, stupid question.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “No it’s not stupid, I know what you meant. And honestly, no. I’m not. Not really. But I will be, in time. I hope.”

Steve dropped another kiss to her cheek and winced as a loud “GET A ROOM!” sounded across the kitchen and he turned to glare at his son. Bucky and Sam exchanged a gleeful look as Steve raised his hand and pointed at Emmy accusingly. “That was not me!” She scoffed, indignantly “It was Bucky that told him to say it.” “If this is the impression you have on my kids after all of fifteen minutes, James Buchanan Barnes, then I’m going to have to seriously consider letting you near them again.” Katie shook her head as she dropped the plate of pancakes into the middle of the table.

“Why did you just call him James?” Jamie asked, frowning

“Because my name is James too.” Bucky answered for Katie.

“No, it’s Bucky.”

“He only gets called James when he’s been bad, bit like you, pal.” Steve chuckled, placing Jamie’s plate of food in front of him. “Now eat that, and then you can show Buck your legos.”

“My legos are here?” Jamie said, grinning.

“Yeah they’re in your bag, we brought them from the compound.” Steve answered, dropping a kiss to his son’s head.

“What the hell is a Lego?” Bucky asked, his face contorted in confusion. The room feel silent as all eyes turned to the man who glanced around, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “What?” ****

Rhodey called later that morning to give them a heads up that the President would be addressing the nation later that afternoon, and to also inform Katie that they were talking about honouring both Tony and Natasha posthumously. Katie had merely snorted, not entirely sure what Tony would have said about any of that, until Rhodey made her laugh about the last time he had received an honour, getting stabbed with the pin by the Senator awarding it to him, Senator Stern.

Who had turned out to be HYDRA.

True to his word, just as he had done five years ago, President Ellis’ address rang out across the nation at precisely three that afternoon, on every TV and Radio channel there was.

“I know there is much speculation surrounding the events of the last 24 hours, and it is for that reason I find myself addressing you all once more, with regards to the Decimation. Only this time I am happy to greet you all with much better news. Thanks to the brave actions of the Avengers and countless others who fought in a ferocious battle Upstate, the Vanished have been returned to us in the same state in which they left.

But it isn’t without cost.

Unfortunately, I have the very sad job of confirming to you all that the rumours are true. Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff both lost their lives in the mission to bring everyone back. My sincere condolences and thoughts are with the rest of the Avengers, in particular the Rogers and Stark families, and I’m sure I speak for the entire world when I say we will be forever indebted to the two fallen heroes for their brave sacrifices which ensured that friends and families across the globe could be reunited.”

Katie glanced down at her hands as she took a deep breath, the tears falling into her lap as Steve’s arm curled round her shoulder, sniffing a little as his own eyes were once again misted over.

“I know you will all have many questions, some of you will be at a loss as to what to do, and unfortunately I don’t have all the answers, so it is for that reason, if I may, I’d like to address those who have been returned to us.

Over the past five years the world has become a very different place to the one you knew. People lost entire families, friends, husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends. We had to rebuild, make sense of living without you. So I ask you , please be patient with us whilst we try once more to make sense of events, only this time they are a lot happier as you have all been returned to us. Don’t take it too personally if we seem a little, well, astounded.”

Ellis paused, wiping his eyes as he smiled, licking his lips.

“Thank you all, God Bless America, and God Bless the Avengers.”

****

That night fireworks exploded across the skies all over the country. The current occupants of the tower sat on the roof watching the symphony of colours and explosions as it light up the Manhattan sky-line, Jamie opting to sit on Bucky’s knee instead of his father’s, because of course Bucky was now his favourite person on the planet.

But Steve didn’t mind, well, not too much anyway.

The next few days passed them by in a bit of a blur. They moved back to the house in Brooklyn. Sam and Bucky came with them. However, surprisingly to Steve (but not to Katie) Wanda opted to head to Clint’s after the archer called and offered her a room. Steve’s time was divided between speaking to the UN, various people in the senate and government alongside Rhodey as they started to make plans to help those people who had returned because reversing the snap had raised a whole cacophony of different problems, just as Tony had predicted it would.

Some of the vanished had come back to find their wives or husbands had re-married. Others found themselves with no-one left as they’d passed away. Some found themselves homeless as new occupants had moved into their apartments which had been left vacant. Two of those people were Peter Parker and his Aunt May, who were now residing in the Tower until Katie could find them somewhere permanent.

And then there were the kids who had been adopted, suddenly finding themselves with two sets of parents.

Katie, on the other hand, had no time or energy for anything other than planning Tony’s funeral with Pepper, and a service of sorts for Natasha with Clint. Natasha’s was to take place first, a small ceremony at Clint’s farm where they would be planting a red maple tree in her honour. Tony’s, however, was slightly more tricky.

Her brother had, at one point, led a very public lifestyle and naturally (even if unfairly) he was attracting the most public interest. They’d been approached by President Ellis, who had asked if they would be open to a full, state public funeral. Katie had been horrified at first, until Pepper had snorted and reminded her that the Old Tony would have loved the attention and fuss.

But New Tony wouldn’t.

Which was why, in the end, they compromised and chose to celebrate the two sides to Tony’s huge personality.

For the Genius, Billionaire, Play-Boy, Philanthropist they would hold a service at St Patrick’s Cathedral and for the husband, father, brother, friend they would then hold a more intimate wake at the lake house, where his ashes would be scattered eventually.

It was draining, emotionally and physically, so it was no surprise to Steve that Katie was constantly tired and a little irritable and the Solider felt the harsh side of her tongue on more than one occasion. But he never bit back, he knew how she was feeling. He’d had to do it with his Ma. Instead he listened to her bounce ideas off him, helped with the organisation where he could, and simply comforted her, holding her close whilst she cried when she needed to.

A week post the return of the Vanished, people seemed to have reached a half-way point, so to speak, between what they had been like before the Snap and what they had become post. But what was noticeable to all of them was that they were persistently mobbed in the street, people wanting to thank them constantly.

Jamie found the whole thing hilarious, waving to people as he walked with his Father one morning to the play-ground. Steve, however, after half an hour had returned home because he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“It’s mad.” He shook his head with a sigh, flopping onto the sofa next to her. “I mean…”

“It’ll die down.” Katie yawned. “Just gonna take a while. People still don’t know what to do. Hell, half the time I don’t know what to do.” She took a deep breath, the back of her hand pressing to her mouth as a queasy feeling washed over her for the umpteenth time that day. “You still feeling crappy?” Steve asked, watching as Jamie sat on the rug with his trucks.

“A little.”

“You thrown up again?” “No.” She shook her head “I don’t feel sick anymore just a little funny, drained almost. I don’t think it’s anything serious. Probably just the stress of all the organising and stuff.”

But as she said the words something in her mind clicked and she sat bolt upright, Steve giving her a curious look.

“What’s wrong?”

“Bruce’s Snap.” She whispered. “The one where he brought everyone back.”

“What about it?”

“What if it brought everyone back?” “Well we know it did…” Steve frowned, not following her line of thought.

“No I mean,” Katie took his hand and placed it on her stomach, “everyone.”

It took Steve a second to cotton on, but when he did he blinked, looking into his wife’s eyes, a faint buzzing ringing in his ears.

“Shit.” He spluttered out.

“Language.” Jamie reprimanded him almost immediately, but both parents ignored him.

“I didn’t,” Steve swallowed, “I mean, I didn’t even consider that a possibility. Do you think it has?”

Katie took a deep breath. “I dunno, I mean the first snap took it away…”

They stayed still for a moment, simply looking at each other, both thinking the same. If one snap had taken their baby, the second snap could quite as easily have brought it back.

“I think I need to go to the store.” Katie muttered.

**** Less than an hour later husband and wife were stood in the bathroom looking down. Down at four different tests. Four different tests that all told them the same thing.

“I can’t believe it.” Steve whispered, his arms wrapping around his wife from behind as he stared down at the test in her hand.

“Me neither.” She whispered, turning to face him, tears in her eyes.

“I’m gonna be a daddy, again.” His hands fell to her hips, blue eyes shining as she gave him a smile, the tears falling down her face.

“And I’m gonna be fat again.” She spluttered, a watery laugh. There was a pause, before Steve’s face cracked into a huge grin and he pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms round his neck and he hugged her close, the pair of them laughing through their tears.

“I like you fat with my kid.” Steve pulled away, wiping the tears that were trickling down her face with his thumbs. She smiled and returned the gesture, brushing the back of her hand over his wet cheeks.

“I love you. So fucking much.” He whispered softly as he dropped a kiss to her lips.

“I love you too.” Her voice croaked before Steve pulled her close once more, his huge arms holding her tightly to him, as he breathed her in, his face pressing into her hair.

And for the first time in a week, Katie’s heart felt a little less broken.

**** Chapter 59

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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fridayfirefly · 3 years

Text

Lost and Found [Part Eleven]

Masterlist | Ao3

Despite the fact that he didn't get to bed until 2 AM that morning, Damian still woke up at 6 AM with the sunrise. Sleep deprivation was the last worry on his mind when his Soulmate - beautiful, breathtaking Marinette - was sleeping just one hall down from him.

He met Alfred in the kitchen, already preparing for the meals of the day. The waffle batter was already mixed, coffee was already brewing, and butter was already softening on the counter. "Do you need any help preparing breakfast?"

Alfred shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, but I pride myself in my ability to keep this kitchen under control, no matter how many visitors we have. Besides, I'm sure you would rather spend your morning getting ready for your day with your Soulmate than in the kitchen with me."

Damian nodded. "I'll see you at breakfast, then."

"I look forward to meeting Miss Dupain-Cheng."

Damian left the kitchen and made his way to the gardens, thinking about the night before.

They had gotten back to the Manor at 1:30 AM, too late for the Parisian guests to meet the Wayne family. Damian walked Marinette to her room to let her get some rest, wishing all the while that they could stay up together until the sunrise. Rationally, he knew that Marinette needed her sleep, especially with the drastic time change, but his emotions refused to let her go so soon. However, logic won out in the end, and he kissed her cheek and wished her goodnight. As Damian walked Chloé to her room, taking over for Jason while his brother packed his bags back in his Gotham apartment, Damian asked Chloé for a favor. There was a certain plan he wanted to put into action, that he needed some assistance with. Chloé agreed to help him out and their plan was set: in the morning, Chloé would bring Marinette to her room so that the two girls could get ready together, while Damian brought to Marinette's room a vase of fresh-cut flowers and a handwritten letter asking to take her on a date.

Chloé called his plan "sickeningly romantic", but said it with the sort of wistful smile that made Damian send a text to Jason advising his brother to bring flowers for his own Soulmate. Maybe it was sickeningly romantic, Damian thought over the concept, but he knew that it wasn't a bad thing. Emotions had been difficult for him at first, growing up the way he did, but he now knew better than to try and hide that part of himself from Marinette.

Damian already picked out which flowers to cut days in advance, fragrant purple wisteria and delicate white roses, which he got from the garden before the morning dew had burned off of them. He placed them in the glass vase, arranging and re-arranging them the whole way up to Marinette's room. He knocked on the door, and when there was no reply, he nudged it open. A flash of red by the window caught his eyes, but by the time his eyes focused on the spot, nothing was there. Shrugging it off as a trick of the light, Damian placed the vase of flowers on her bedside table and set down the note beside it. The note, which despite its simplicity had taken several drafts to perfect, read: Dear Marinette, I hope you slept well last night. Breakfast will be served at 8:00 AM. With your permission, I would like to spend today showing you around the city. Once the wedding approaches, I'm certain that we will both be busier, so I would like to get as much time with you now as possible. Sincerely, your Soulmate, Damian

With his plan completed, Damian left the room to go get ready for his first day with Marinette. He quickly sent a text to Chloé, giving her the all-clear to let Marinette return to her room.

Damian had just gotten out of the shower when he saw a note sitting on his bathroom counter. In what was unmistakably Marinette's handwriting, Dear Damian, I would love to go on a date with you today. Sincerely, your Soulmate, Marinette.

Damian breathed out a sigh of relief as the lingering doubt that Marinette might have changed her mind in the last six hours faded away. It is a silly fear, one that Damian wasn't used to indulging in. However, Marinette seemed to bring out all the little human characteristics that the League of Shadows had trained out of him when he was young. A younger Damian would have hated Marinette for it, but in the present day, in the privacy of his room, Damian smiled and let the feeling of relief wash over him.

——————————————————————

Marinette, Chloé, and Nino were all at the dining room table with Jon when Damian entered the room. Marinette brightened up as soon as she saw him. "Damian!" If Damian thought that Marinette looked beautiful last night (which he did) with tangled hair and tired eyes from a seven-hour plane ride, she looked downright breathtaking that morning, in a pretty pale pink dress, with her hair done up in a bun, tendrils curling around her face.

"Good morning, Marinette. I hope you slept well."

"I slept great." A look of annoyance took over Marinette's face. "Even though someone woke me up early on someone else's orders." Marinette's expression shifted from indignation to a bright smile. "I did appreciate the flowers, though, so thank you for those."

"You're very welcome." Damian was pleased that she liked them. He was a little troubled by how intently he was watching her facial expression. "Concerning our date tonight-"

Damian was cut off by the sound of voices coming down the hallway. Richard walked in beside Babs in her wheelchair, the couple having a lively debate about what to do for their respective bachelor and bachelorette parties. "We have to hire one. How often in your life do you get the opportunity to hire a stripper?" argued Babs.

"Alright," conceded Richard, "We get one stripper, and we have him split time between both parties. Now onto decorations - I'm thinking we each pick the decorations for each other's parties, and then it's like a surprise when we get there. And I'm not only saying this because I found the best bachelorette decorations on eBay and I already placed a bid."

Chloé broke the silence that followed in the dining room, as a muffled laugh escaped the hand she had pressed over her mouth. "I'm sorry, but aren't you Waynes billionaires? Can't you afford to hire two strippers?"

"Not billionaires," Tim chimed in as he walked into the room with Connor. "Every time Bruce comes close to being a billionaire, he increases the wages of all Wayne Enterprise employees except for himself and donates a ton of money to charity."

"I suppose we could hire two strippers, but then what if one of them is better than the other. That wouldn't be fair," mused Barbara.

"We could have them switch halfway through, that way we each get the same experience," Richard added.

"How about, instead of arguing the logistics of strippers, you greet the Soulmates who just arrived last night?" asked Jon, with a tone of voice that very clearly demonstrated how absurd he felt their conversation was. Damian had spent too much time with Richard and Babs over the past few weeks of wedding planning - nothing that came out of their mouths phased him anymore.

"Oh, hello Soulmates of my brothers and Soulmate of my brother's Soulmate's brother. I'm Dick."

"Babs," said Babs with a wave.

"Tim."

"Conner."

Richard started pointing to each of the Parisians. "You must be Marinette, Damian's Soulmate. You're Nino, Jon's Soulmate. And you are..?"

"Chloé, my platonic Soulmate," said Jason as he walked into the room.

"I can introduce myself," snapped Chloé, glowering at Jason, who looked a bit sheepish as he sat down in the chair next to her.

Jason picked up his fork and waved it between Chloé and Marinette. "So you two know each other."

Marinette nodded. "We've all known each other since we were kids. Chloé, Nino, and I have been in the same class since maternelle - which you call kindergarten in America. We've been best friends for years now."

"Now that's a coincidence. Both sets of three Soulmates knew each other before they met up with their other halves." Richard nodded, looking the three Parisians up and down.

"Coincidence is putting it mildly. Statistically, it's incredibly improbable. I didn't run the numbers, but I'm sure if I did, it would be in the range of one in a trillion," Tim piped up.

"Good luck, I suppose," said Marinette with a shrug.

"Luck, coincidence, statistical improbability - call it whatever you want to call it. It's still mind-boggling that out of 7 billion people, you three - best friends who go to the same school - end up with Soulmates who are all family."

The conversation turned to other topics as the table waited for Bruce to arrive before they started breakfast. Richard got Marinette talking about her aspiring career as a designer, and it instantly brought Marinette out of her shell. Her passion and enthusiasm were contagious; Damian couldn't help but smile softly to himself as he watched her explain to Richard and Babs the inspiration behind her latest collection of dresses named The City of Lights, which incorporated elements of Parisian fashion throughout the ages, with a focus on finding innovative ways to incorporate light into the dresses. As Marinette was explaining in depth the pros and cons between tea candles and real candles (according to Marinette, an open flame near your hand-crafted creation is a very big con, but she felt so strongly against tea candle that she would rather her dress catch on fire than ruin the integrity of her design), Bruce walked in, wearing a bathrobe with the words World's Best Dad on the back, plaid flannel pajama pants, and fuzzy slippers. Overall, he looked nothing like the intimidating Batman and everything like a regular Dad on a Saturday morning. Damian had to admit, it was a good strategy for putting their new houseguests at ease, especially Marinette and Chloé, who were meeting their Soulmates' father for the very first time.

"Good morning everyone," said Bruce. He grabbed his coffee mug off the counter, filled it to the brim, chugged it all in one go, then refilled it and took it to the table. "What's for breakfast?"

"Pancakes," Alfred replied as he walked in with a platter stacked full of them. "Please don't spill any syrup on the tablecloth, it's a pain to get out. And before you ask, yes, I am talking to you, Richard."

"One time," Richard grumbled. "You spill an entire bottle of syrup on the tablecloth one time, and suddenly that's all anyone remembers."

Marinette laughed. "I take it I'm not the clumsiest person at the table, then."

"I'm not clumsy. I'm just sporadically situationally unaware," Richard defended.

"Clumsy," teased Babs, flicking Richard's nose and stealing the last bite of pancake off his plate. They were so effortlessly domestic, affectionate with each other all the time in a way Damian was beginning to envy. Damian kept his expression still as he sat in internal shock at the realization that he was jealous of what Richard and Babs had together. Damian was a naturally private person; he had assumed he would despise public displays of affection. However, with Marinette, he could see the appeal. Marinette had flipped his whole worldview on its head. Now he wanted romantic outings and for everyone to know that she was his. It was a strange and foreign feeling, but deep down it felt right.

——————————————————————

As breakfast winded down, Damian offered to show Marinette around the house. The first place he took her was to the gardens. Damian knew that Marinette didn't like surprises all that much, so he planned on explaining to her exactly what they would be doing for their date.

"The gardens are so pretty!" exclaimed Marinette. "Is this where the wedding will be held?"

"Yes. The ceremony will be at the gazebo in the center of the rose garden."

"I'm sure it will be lovely," said Marinette with a soft smile on her face.

"For our date today, I was hoping I could show you around some of my favorite spots in the city. If you would rather stay at the Manor, I understand but-"

Marinette cut him off. "I would love that. I might need to change my shoes though." She gestured to the three-inch heels on her feet."

"I would advise bringing along a pair of good walking shoes. I would hate for you to get hurt."

"It would be a shame to break my ankle on our very first date," agreed Marinette. "I'll just go grab a change of shoes and my purse, and then we can go."

Damian smiled at her. "I'll wait for you here."

Damian watched Marinette leave, thinking of all his favorite things he could finally show her, and all of her smiles he could finally see.

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#maribat #daminette #maridami #miraculous ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #marinette x damian #lost and found #my work #fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfic

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kyberphilosopher · 4 years

Text

Tʜᴇ Nᴇᴘᴇɴᴛʜᴇ

part ii of ‘the Caim’.

word count: 4790

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*. Nepenthe... (n.) one that brings a pleasurable sense of forgetfulness, or the erasing of an unwanted memory.

It felt better than last time, at least.

No, it wasn’t perfect. Nothing was ever perfect when it came to wartime- least of all emotional well-beings. But you had once been at the lowest of all points, and now you could say otherwise. Now, at least, your emotional state was better than others. Better than comrades, friends, and those who you dearly missed without even being allowed to.

You had known it was a silly thing to do from the very beginning. For one, it was against the code you had sworn to uphold and heed. You knew the Jedi would never have approved of what you allowed to take place, but the sincerity of it all had admittedly clouded your judgement. Secondly, it was simply ridiculous enough of you for encouraging it to begin with. It was even more ridiculous to continue to cling onto what had happened, all within the confines of a slim, onyx box.

The parchments were fragile from time, but protected from how well you’d treated them. You’d been sure not to crinkle the pieces anymore than you’d needed to. Even taken extra care in not smearing the ink when your thumbs were rubbing over top of it. With a rather unrealistic fear of the papers turning to dust at the very mention of the air, you rarely took them out to see with your own eyes.

But what in the wide open galaxy could’ve been so precious, someone would never take them out out of fear of oxygen?

Treasures from your worst time, of course. From Umbara, when you had been called to fill in for General Kenobi and Skywalker on a month long mission in retaking the shadowy world. It hadn’t taken long for you to lose any notion of spirit to exhaustion. Your body and soul had turned sour with a dull ailment, as if you were dressed in the feeling of dry throat. But, of course, you had been prepared to ride this feeling out until the end of your task.

And then something had made it far more bearable. First only a little, then a lot.

No, you were never able to prove it. But you knew. And in return, Rex knew that you knew. Whether he noticed your demeanor and mood or not was irrelevant. What mattered was that the man had taken time out of his rather busy schedule to write you small, but simple, declarations of his admiration for you. It was probably the nicest things anyone had ever done for you, and the Captain had done it purely out of his own golden heart.

So, that was what you kept in the box. Notes from the man who had touched you deeply, and therefor carried you to the end.

You hadn’t seen Rex since the second siege of Umbara- the mission you’d been involved with. But that was about five months ago now. You had already returned to your own battalion, returned to your own battles, returned to the people who were already counting on you. You still saw Anakin and Obi-Wan fairly often, even aided the latter in a space battle against Grievous. Other than that, you worked with General Plo Koon in guarding the skies. And all was well.

You never asked about Rex. Though you desperately wanted to inquire of his health, it would’ve been too off putting for both your colleagues and your own men. After all, nobody knew what had transpired between the two of you. And even then, neither you nor the Captain acknowledged it. So it wasn’t like you had much of a right to any concern for him anyway. You weren’t his lover, or even his friend. You were a superior, and it was not much allowed to act as though there was anything more to it.

Though as your fingers ghosted over the last slip of paper he had written to you, a certain fondness was hard to deny.

“ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ.” How were you just supposed to forget that? Though you supposed that must’ve been the mans intention. He hadn’t wanted you to forget it, even if it was a bit of a distraction to both of your duties.

With a slow exhale from your nose, your thumb strokes the corner of the parchment a final time. Then, you fold the paper back up, stack it up in line with the other pieces, and carefully place them back in the black box. You only have to lean over in your sitting position to place the box under the shelf you call your bed. Once you sit up again, you’re met with the boring gray walls of the inside of a Venator. And without realizing it, the last thing you think of before you lay down for sleep, is how you’d much rather be looking at a certain Captain instead.

You would get your wish.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You grip the table in front of you as your ship jolts. Overhead, lights lining the ceilings and walls flash red like sirens. A few of the officers and men around you stumble as well, and you just know a trillion more problems are arising.

“C’mon Plo...” you urgently hiss under your breath. “Hurry up, please.”

As if on cue, you watch his star-fighter spin outside the bridge window, closely followed by a spray of enemy shots. A low trill from in front of you grabs your attention instead, and you raise your head to meet your fellow Jedi.

“General Y/N?” Anakin inquires importantly. “Are you there?”

Another shake runs through your ship, causing your knuckles to pale from the intensity of holding on. “I’m here,” you answer. “Our forces are overpowered. General Koon won’t be able to hold out for much longer. I suggest we-” another shake of your ship. “I suggest we pull back.”

General Skywalker nods his head firmly, then looks around with darting eyes. “We’re coming out of hyperspace now, General. Whether or not we’ll be in one piece is up for debate, though.”

You raise an eyebrow in question. Your fellow Jedi know your lack of speaking enough to understand that this quirk is encouraging them to explain. “We’ve been... badly damaged. Admiral Yularen is out cold. If we stay on this ship, we’re done for.”

You nod as you get the message. “Understood,” you say, and the hologram disappears. “Open up the hanger and lower rear shields. Prepare for incoming escape pods,” you say to one officer. As he nods his head curtly, you raise your communicator to your lips and turn to the bridge window. “You hear that, Plo?”

“Affirmative,” the Kel Dor answers through blasts.

“As soon as everyone arrives, I want us in hyperspace,” you say to your Admiral.

It only took three moments before the giant window you looked out to was painted with blue and white streaks, and then a tunnel of indigo. A slow breath escapes you as anxiety quietly builds inside. Skywalker’s plan went horribly. He’d known the Separatist ships had outgunned you and Plo this time, but he insisted you hold your position. You had attempted to warn him against this, but clearly to no avail. Now you’re down a ship, Yularen, and several men. Not to mention all the shots your own cruiser had taken.

“Plo,” you say into your communicator, slowly. “Do you read me?”

Silence.

“Plo?”

“I’m here.” You exhale in relief at the sound of his voice. “I’ve met General Skywalker in the hanger bay. They have wounded.”

“I’m on my way.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“General Y/N!” Anakin exclaims. His notorious smirk is creeping against the edge of his lips, and his hands are outstretched to make his words all the bolder. Despite his warm greeting, clones are being carried away in stretchers all around him, and your once clean bay is now streaked with skid marks.

“I have to say, this is one of your worse landings,” you tell him once you enter earshot. Unlike the man in front of you, you were not one to shout your half of the conversation from across the room. You nod once to General Plo as he passes you by.

“Yeah, well, I improvised.”

Clearly, you think as you watch a Clone remove his helmet and gasp for air.

“We lost a whole squadron of men,” Anakin continues. “Yularen was injured while we were out flanked. And Obi-Wan...” Anakin sighs and squares his jaw. “Obi-Wan’s gonna kill me.”

What about Rex? You resist the urge to scream. Instead, you say, “I can cover you for this one.”

“No,” the man says quickly. He folds his arms somewhat bitterly, though you know it’s not directed towards you. “No. It’s my mistake.”

You’ve barely opened your mouth before someone else steals your attention again. Behind you, a distorted voice rings clear and true. “General Skywalker,” it calls, and your heart gives a great pound, even though you’ve heard the voice over a thousand times today.

You shift your body so you’re half facing the voice. You watch a trooper in blue marked armor march up to where you and your comrade stand. Helmet scarred with tally marks... Blasters on both hips... The appearance only confirmed what you had already known.

Coming closer, Rex lifts his hands and removes his helmet from his head, revealing his face.

Maker, had he always looked like this? Or was this a trick of your brain from a new addiction to him?

Bleached hair cut close to his head, striking features and golden eyes. Angular as ever, but symmetrical nonetheless. You hadn’t really experienced attraction much in your life. The Jedi code kept barred you from it, and you hadn’t much of a desire to really seek it out. But you had spent so much time wondering about the man that when you saw him again, even after all this time, you knew at once that not only was Rex attractive, but you were attracted to him.

“Ah, Rex,” Skywalker says in turn. “Good to see you’re in one piece. I was just about to mention you to our host here.”

You watch the Clones pupils dilate as he bites the inside of his right cheek. Although you’re feeling the same amount of both excitement and anxiety as he is, his discomfort means more to you. In a quick but meaningful attempt to quell his rather put-on-the-spot feelings, you speak first.

“Captain,” you say steadily. “I’m glad to see you well.”

What a poor thing to say. Could you truly not have thought of anything better to say to the man?

“How are the men?” Anakin asks from beside you, nearly making you jump. You’d momentarily forgotten where you were, and the fact that other people just so happened to exist.

Rex dips his head. You can see the weight of stress against his shoulders, and a darkening shadow within his eyes. In the pit of your own stomach, a prick of guilt and empathy sparks. Is this how he had felt seeing you in such a state? Had it truly felt this jarring?

“They’re... heavily injured,” the Captain answers. A thumb rubs against the side of his helmet like a ghost, just over the tally marks. “We’re still counting the casualties.”

“If you’d like to help your men...” Anakin trails off.

Rex snaps back to attention, his voice as clear and strong as any soldier. “I would. Will you be alright without me?”

“Rex,” Anakin assures with a lighthearted smile. “We’ll be fine. I’ll contact you if we need anything.”

Rex is sure not to make eye contact with you again as he goes. He silently questions Skywalker a few seconds longer with his large, amber eyes. Then he puts his helmet back over his face, turns around in uniform fashion, and heads to assist Kix in the corner.

You knew how dedicated of a man he was before. He had his conflict, but he always put it aside for the greater good of those around him, meaning he was selfless as well. Rex remained hardworking and level headed, which didn’t surprise you much, but still. He impressed you with how he walked and talked and treated other people, you being one of them. Focused, diligent... there was so many things you could say about him. All of them flattering. Instead, you muttered:

“He always was a good man.”

“Well he hasn’t changed much since you saw him,” Skywalker elaborates. “I was hoping to promote him to Commander this year, but I doubt it will happen now.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you turn back to your fellow Jedi. It’s a silent question of ‘why? what makes you say that?’.

Anakin takes a small step forward, which allows you to inhale his scent. It’s an intimate act, though not in a sexual nor romantic way. It’s an intimate act of secrecy, and you’re sure to give him your full attention in the coming moments.

“Rex tends to... self deprecate.”

Your first instinct is to be somewhat offended on the clone Captain’s behalf. But your mind is quick to quiet this instinct, giving way to the logical answer.

Skywalker isn’t wrong. Though his phrasing may not be the most accurate, it gets the point across. Rex does self deprecate. He shares the loss with everyone as if it were his own. As if he were responsible for the failure or wrongdoing whether he really was or not. And, sadly, most of the time he’s not. But he’ll never see it that way.

The Captain considered all the men lost on this mission his fault. Anakin could offer Rex the position of Commander all he wants, but the clone would never accept after a mission like this.

You turn back towards his direction. Rex crouches down next to his medic friend, occasionally nodding his head solemnly. Even now, in a state that tugs on the edges of your heart, he looks pretty.

“How long do you expect to stay?” you ask with focused eyes.

“I don’t know,” the Skywalker says with a sigh. “But you don’t mind if my men stay here while me and Obi-Wan do some recon, right?”

“No,” you answer slowly, the idea solidifying as you watch the Clone push himself to his feet. “Stay as long as you need.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You wrote it out carefully. The grip around the pen was tight and secure, and the letters that bled from it were tiny and neat. In an age where holopads ruled the galaxy, you’d almost forgotten what your handwriting was like. It was nice to remember.

Writing was simple. It was more peaceful than holding a lightsaber, and you didn’t destroy anything through your hands movements. When the letters appeared at your will, you could imagine a life where they did this all the time. A life on the countryside maybe, or the beach. You’d heard Scarif was beautiful often. Maybe there?

The feeling of sullen peace doesn’t last long. As soon as you finish your statement, you’re back to being a Jedi knight. It saddens you in it’s own way, but you tell yourself it’s for the best, as you usually did. Then, you read your gift over in your head.

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴀɴ.

It didn’t seem like it was enough, so you flipped the parchment over to the other side and wrote more.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ.

And you meant what you had written, too. Rex, like any other Clone, didn’t deserve the guilt that war brought. He didn’t deserve the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, but he had to bear it anyway. Maybe your little words with alleviate some of it for him, just as it had for you.

I slip the paper between the folds of your robes. At nightfall, you creep into the darkness, a messenger of your own terms.

You knew that Rex had received and read your offering. The moment yours eyes met, it was done for.

You weren’t going to act out. Your face didn’t change in the slightest. Rex’s, however, has shifted his eyes into a widened state, and his lips are parted as he realizes what you have done. Whatever doubts he had about it were now quelled, for at first he had assumed it was a simply a kind soldier.

Instead it was you, the Jedi he had thought about every day since first sight.

Slowly, you raise your breakfast bread to your lips. Your teeth break through the little cloud of dough, savoring the dry taste. Rex seems to be paralyzed on the other side of the room. He doesn’t even seem to recognize that he’s in public, in a sea of clones and officers who would be able to read the look on his face if they squint enough.

You hold the man’s stare for a few seconds longer. Then you turn away, just in time to catch Plo and Anakin approaching you.

“General,” Anakin greets. You bow your head in recognition.

“We received a transmission from General Kenobi and Windu this morning,” Plo booms. “They’re on their way to support us best they can, but they estimate they won’t be here for the next three days.”

Three days. You have three days to calm Rex’s nerves.

You swallow down your bite of bread before you respond. “Any news of the enemy?”

“None so far.”

“We should send out scouts in all directions,” Anakin steps forward. “We have to locate Grievous before he escapes again.”

“He could’ve already jumped into hyperspace by now,” you urge. “Unlike him, we may not have that fuel. Not until Obi-Wan gets here.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Rex found the second note that evening.

He’d already struggled to push the first from his mind, but now his head felt like it was filling with clouds. What should he have focused on? Your lingering scent on the cards? The cleanliness of your handwriting? The fact that it was from you? For him? Maker, he hadn’t even said thirty sentences to you, and he was already drunk with love.

Not infatuation. Not lust. Love.

With a shaky hand, the soldier purses his lips. He bends over in his blue painted armor. He feels the paper against the fingertips of his gloves. At once, he feels you too. He can’t turn it over fast enough.

ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ, ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ. ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛʟʏ- ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ? ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ.

Rex’s throat dries fast. The light in his ambers eyes resembles the embers of a fire, alive and awake with the spark of a promise. But the man knows there may be more, and he turns the parchment to the other side, nearly giving himself a paper slice.

ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏ, ʀᴇx.

It’s you. This confirms it.

You’ve addressed him by name now. You’ve made it solid with the motion of your wrist and the ink of a pen. So how does Rex respond? Confront you directly? No. You’re his superior. Rex isn’t even fully sure he’d have the courage to do that yet. Lead his men into battle? Any day, no problem. Speak to you, with your piercing eyes and your analytical mind? His tongue would tie itself before he’d be able to get any words out.

Should he write a letter in return? That’s not how this works. Rex remembers he’s out of paper at the moment anyway. He can’t talk to Anakin about it without getting you in trouble. Confiding in his brothers would’ve only led to frustration, lame advice, and court marshals. That’s not an option.

The only other path is simple: no confrontation at all. Rex rides out the wave of your words until you split paths again. You disappear to do whatever it is Jedi do, and the Captain is forced back into having to find ways to inquire about your wellbeing to Anakin without seeming unnatural.

But that doesn’t totally seem like an option either.

Unknown to the man, you sit on security cameras. You watch as he stands outside the doorway of his barracks, clutching the note close to his chest, before you head to your sleep.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Rex is happier the next morning.

His broad chest is puffed out further than before. It’s not noticeable for most people, but it’s noticeable for anyone who’s memorized the walk and posture of their lover. The same goes for the corners of his lips, which aren’t as dragged downwards as usual. His eyes are bright from a well rest.

He is physically healthy. You can only hope his head is beginning to follow suit.

You write him one note, which is read before lunch time. A simple:

ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡ.

Which you could swear resulted in softer expressions on his part throughout the day. No smiles. The atmosphere was too grim and crowded for a full, cheery curve. It’s a bit of a shame, because you meant your words. The thought alone of Rex grinning in sheer joy is enough to make you want to grin too. Still, you understand. Disappointment and understanding tend to go well together.

After overseeing some construction, you receive a cut along your palm. It is sharp and deep, and the crimson blood seeps into the crevices of your fingers. Despite the stinging, you offer little outside reaction. You are quick to carry yourself to the infirmary.

Rex leaves the infirmary at the same time.

You tell yourself you won’t turn to look at him. But then you hear him speak “General, are you alright?” and you abandon your internal swear.

The promise of seeing his face is too tempting. You turn smoothly, meeting his eyes. “Yes,” you tell him, as if nothing ever existed between the two of you. “I’m alright.” Then your brows crease together. “Are you?”

Rex takes a split second to respond. He is distracted, trapped in his own thoughts thanks to you. “Oh- yes, General. I was just, ah, visiting Jesse. Some friends of mine were injured in the crash, sir.”

Your gaze softens considerably. Your next lines come out without thinking, but they flow as freely as a stream regardless. “You always were a kind man.”

Which isn’t a bad thing to say to anyone, by any means. But in relation to you and him, it feels like a big step. The words sound like something that should’ve been kept in between the folds of paper, and left by the side of a door.

Both Rex and yourself tense up at the exact same time. Eyes widen, shoulders square.

But Rex is true to his nature. “And you always had quite the way with words, General,” he says. The end of his sentence is capped with a clipped up smirk, and a charismatic glint in his eyes that is too raw to be untruthful.

So the Captain finds another letter addressed to him that day, right before bed.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴄᴀʀɪɴɢ.

And on the other side,

ɪ'ᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʟᴀxʏ.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

And then it’s the last day that you’ll be together. The day you’d been dreading. The day you’d been putting off.

You hadn’t meant to get so attached. It goes against your training, your code, everything you’ve sacrificed yourself for. But you’re too far in now. You are absolutely star struck, invested, and trapped in a rabbit hole created by Rex himself. Not that you blame him. You’re glad for it. You could be happy like this.

You don’t want to lose him. Therefore, a line of thinking pops into your intelligent little brain. It wouldn’t solve all the problems. In fact, it would probably create more. But it would be binding. It would be official. You could escape.

You wanted to. You wanted to go forward with your line of thinking. But Maker, it was a leap. Would it be worth it?

Yes. If you had to answer now, the answer would be yes.

An entire section of your brain was dedicated to mulling it over the entirety of the day. Even as you commanded your troops, signaling and training and clutching the end of the holotable with your bandaged fingers, about seventeen percent of your brain power was stuck on the future.

The answer was reached at the very last moment.

As Obi-Wan emerged from hyperspace, along with several fighters, your mind went blank. And then the blankness washed away, and all you could feel was the simplicity of a crackling fire, the waves on a beach, and the promise of safety. You imagine yourself writing every day with pen and paper, creating whimsical works for yourself and your lover. There is nothing but peace. No war, nor responsibilities. Only the beach, the parchment, and Rex.

Rex.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Your lover already received what he had assumed would be the last letter from you. He’d seen it in the morning. It was simple and sweet, and while it didn’t do much to soothe himself from the thought of parting from you, it had made him feel warm inside.

ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ. ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ, ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

So you can imagine the way his dark eyebrows knit together at the sight of another.

Perhaps it was an accident. The Captain had been returning to his quarters to gather whatever belongings he’d left inside before transferring over to Obi-Wan’s cruiser with General Skywalker. No. That was a ridiculous thing to think. You were simply immune to making mistakes.

Rex bends over. Again, his black gloved hand stretches out and clasps the parchment up. He is always careful with it, as to not crinkle the memories and sentiment wrapped within. Like you, he is sure to keep everything you send to him in either a box or an envelope for future reference.

Your last note is not a statement. It is not a compliment to be taken at face value. It is a question, a proposal. It is a leap of faith.

You got your answer the next morning. Before loading himself onto the transport, your Captain is sure to meet your eyes. You step forward with one foot, searching for any signs. And for the first few seconds you are concerned that he has answered with a simple ‘no’, but then you realize that he is simply teasing. Something you’d have to get used to, it seems.

Rex gives you a smile. A soft one, but a sincere one. His right hand reaches up, and pats against his armor, right over his heart. He does this one, two, three times, before slipping his handsome face inside his helmet, and disappearing behind the visor.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You are married on Obi-Wan’s cruiser. General Koon sends you over the next day to obtain information in person instead of holograms for fear of bugs and spies. And, yes, you were true to your mission.

But where no one could see you, you met Rex in a humid hallway. The lights were dimmed and near glowing red, but the area was totally cleared out. Neither clone, nor Jedi disturbed the lovers, whose shadows were looking into each others eyes.

Rex has your hands in his. They are rough, and a reminder of how you observed them and thought he had stood out at first sight. He still has the scar on his palm, though this time you have your own to match it. This time, you also match in terms of jewelry, for both of your left ring fingers are tethered by simple, silver bands.

The kiss that sealed the idea was chaste at first. You hadn’t known what to do, though it hadn’t taken you long to through that thought to the wind. Kissing Rex felt good, even if you had nothing to compare it to. It was the kiss you had been waiting for, and the tongue prodding at your lips had only confirmed your suspicions that Rex was an adventurous man.

And so, in the hallway where the lovers met, all was well.

At least until Order Sixty-Six came.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

finally.

might edit though, but i always say i’ll do that and then don’t.

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo @chokemeanakin @anakinswhore @haztory @fanficsforheartandsoul @kit-jpg

#captain rex x reader #captain rex imagines #captain rex angst #captain rex imagine #rex x reader #rex imagines #rex angst #captain rex fluff #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #clone wars x reader #tcw x reader #captain rex fanfiction #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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xivu-arath · 3 years

Text

the taste of salt

for @synnthamonsugar! you requested, among other things, the possibility of savathun and lavinia conversing, and this idea just about consumed me afterwards (and shoutout to nem who managed to mention this exact same idea idly during lorechat and terrify me immensely). I also just associate these two with you at this point, as I think you were the one to point out lavinia had met savathun at the end of her journey to me!!

anyways, I think it’s only been this year that we’ve known each other but I’m very glad that we’ve met!

(AO3)

“My nephew died,” the witch continues, as if talking about the weather. “Just a little while ago.”

“Oh,” Lavinia says, before she can think better of it. “I’m sorry.”

Lavinia is in a cage. She worked that part out very quickly. But it is a cage made like a dream, and it works like a dream, and that makes it difficult to resent. Either the witch is not there, or she is, and might well have always been. Lavinia has tried thinking of her in other terms, even by the few names she can dredge up from pre-Golden Age myths, but they slide off as if oiled. The witch refuses all other titles.

Today – if there are days here, as the only way she can tell time is by the witch’s visits – the tea the witch pours for them both is a dark, smoky blend that she remembers from her time as a student, poring over every new secret and mystery in the archives.

It is also a blend that no longer exists; the plants, the supply chain that brought it to the city, the process and the knowledge behind it all lost, excised by a raid by one species or another. One infinitesimal loss out of trillions. Yet here it is, rewound, warming her hands. The flavour makes her eyes sting, and when she is done blinking the feeling away, the witch is watching her, smiling.

The witch’s eyes are very green, and pin her like knives.

“I really must thank you, Lavinia. You’ve been such a help. But you won’t mind a change in plans, will you?” she says, the question relentlessly rhetorical.

(Lavinia still wonders about Nasya. What things would have been like, if she could have gone with her. Would things have been different, or would she be a pawn in a different set of schemes?)

But at least someone is listening. Someone cares about the truths she has uncovered. Someone who very much does not want to be discovered.

“My nephew died,” the witch continues, as if talking about the weather. “Just a little while ago.”

“Oh,” Lavinia says, before she can think better of it. “I’m sorry.” The mention of family has jarred her out of any sense of caution, even with her thoughts scrambling for how long a while could possibly mean in such a place, what else she might possibly glean from such a short statement. She still has to say something.

“How kind of you.” There is something heavy and ill-fitting about the words as she says them, but the smile remains. “It wasn’t entirely unexpected,” she adds, almost confiding. “He was a clever child, but precocious. He took risks. It made him much like his father, though they would both have hated to hear it. You know how family is.”

Lavinia bites her lip, thinking of her mother, voice shaking through each syllable of her names when they argued. “I am sorry about your nephew, but I don’t see what this has to do with me –”

“We had made a great deal of plans, and it is up to me now to carry them through,” the witch continues, serenely ignoring her input, and her eyes glitter with what has to be laughter. “And it has occurred to me that you’ve been rather neglected here, after everything you’ve brought to my doorstep. You have been wasted for far too long, haven’t you? By your City, of course, and the Reef after that.”

Lavinia swallows, and sets her cup down. The flavour of home has encountered a large lump in her throat, and cannot seem to get past.

“I do,” says the witch, pensive, “hate to see waste.”

“I’ve told you so much,” she says, shying away from her certainty of how terrible a choice – was it a choice, really? – it was to do so. “I’ve told you everything I know. What more could you want with me?”

Maybe it’s still the thought of her mother, and the City, and an entire beautiful, ransacked planet she’ll never see again, that makes Lavinia fling the teacup right at her captor’s face.

The tea spills in a beautiful, gleaming arc. The cup catches on nothing as the air stutters, and she tastes salt and seawater for an instant – and then the world resumes.

They are sitting at the table. The wind howls and makes the branches of the trees outside tap at the windows. The fire crackles. The teacups sit, now empty.

“Feeling better, dear?” the witch asks dryly.

Her shoulders hunch. “No.”

“But you had to try it, anyways, didn’t you? Even though you’ve already learned the rules for this space.” She is still speaking more slowly, thoughtfully, and Lavinia finds she hates it. The conversational pleasantries and veiled condescension are... well, not fine, but they are a game Lavinia has a chance at keeping up with.

This is the witch slowly baring the blade of her intellect, and it is terrible – because of how deliberately she does it, because Lavinia is afraid and yet at the same time, she’s blundering towards trying to understand –

“You too are bound by your nature, after all.” The witch’s eyes are impossibly bright now, almost burning. She is reminded of the auroras over areas blasted by radiation, their very brilliance an implicit warning. “So our cycles continue onward.” She leans forward, and Lavinia scoots back without meaning to.

“If I had left you with the Nine, yours would have ground you to dust by now.”

“And captivity is so much better,” she says, desperately bold. If the witch needs her for something else, she’s scarcely going to get rid of her now.

The witch beams, and Lavinia knows she has somehow set her foot right back into another trap. “In this case, you’ll find it is.

“Tell me, Lavinia. How would you like to go home?”

All her fleeting bravado drains away. “Home? You can’t mean – I’m an exile. The City cast me out. I can’t go back.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, even if this whole unfortunate journey started to fix that, to prove something so true and important the City would have to allow her to return....

“Oh,” the witch says. “I think your knowledge is exactly what they need right now. Your City will be grateful enough to welcome you back with open arms.”

Questions boil up with more than a tinge of urgency, and Lavinia chokes them down. Either the witch won’t answer them, or she will, and those answers will lead her further astray. She has to stay focused, clear-headed. Never her strong suit when cornered, but she rather thinks all the perilous situations have toughened her nerves just a little since she had crept into the Cryptarch’s vault. Would she have stared down those Guardians, maybe –

(Rambling again, Lavinia. Focus.)

It’s rather like phrasing the right question to get her master’s approval – not a task she was very good at to begin with – but the stakes are so much higher. Her pulse pounds in her ears. “Just sending me back for my own sake would be another waste, wouldn’t it?”

The witch smiles at her like the most terrifying grandmother she’s never had. “It just so happens that I am in need of an envoy to the City, since my last one was so rudely killed –”

“Killed?”

“Do keep up, Lavinia,” she says impatiently, and several pieces fall together in quick succession. Her nephew. Of course. “You’ll have a far more merciful reception than he did. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Lavinia almost wishes she had the simulated tea back just so she could busy herself while thinking very, very fast. Why would an enemy of the City – and she refers to the City and the Reef with such airy distance, like they are such small things – want to speak to it? There’s no question that going to the City on her behalf would be a bad idea. No question that, just as before, she has little choice.

So much for luck.

“And what would I be saying?” Her voice doesn’t quite waver. The witch is offering her what they both want. “As your envoy.”

“All sorts of things. Some of them may even be true.” The witch’s eyes narrow, and Lavinia feels the threat in her drifting attention.

“I’ll do it,” she says quickly, before she can think long enough to regret it. She can hear her master and Rahool and Ikora Rey all despairing of her in the back of her mind. So quick to make choices, so reckless. “Take me back.”

“First,” the witch says. “You must speak my name.”

She reels. “What? But – but you haven’t told me your name. I don’t know it.”

The look she gets is pitiable and mocking, a teacher exasperated by a favourite student. “Surely that shouldn’t be a problem for you. I’ve given you more than enough to find it.”

With growing dread, Lavinia realizes that this is true. How many enemies of humanity have notable relatives? The only ones she can think of are Oryx and his sons, all dead. But Oryx had sisters somewhere out beyond the solar system, circling with their armies and fleets out in deep space....

“Savathûn,” she whispers. “You’re Savathûn.”

“The pact is made,” Savathûn says, and her smile is decidedly sharp-toothed. “Let’s get you to where you belong.”

The warm and pleasant cage of a room shreds itself apart, and Lavinia tastes salt for the last time.

#my words #gift fics #destiny #the hive #savathun #lavinia #synnthamonsugar #sorry I tend to get wordy when I post gift fics #I am a big sap and need to express feelings as much as sum up how the request has been formed #anyways this ended up very ambitious and I have like 200 ideas that didn't make it in so #I hope you enjoy it and I will happily lob them all over to you on discord

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myluciferiscody · 4 years

Note

Aw~Imagine this! The reader came with Dandy when he buys the freakshow (them being his trusted loving friend) and defends him as the freaks are beating him up! (I'm sorry you feuled my Dandy fire and now I cannot be stopped!) ~signed yet again your Dandy loving anon~

here you go, lovely

______

You knew that Dandy always had dreams of being in the limelight. Ever since you were kids, he insisted on daily performances with his puppets or acting out scenes with just the two of you when you were older. He always had a deep love for theatre and acting, which soon rubbed off on you.

He had been obsessed with the local Freak Show in Jupiter; he had taken you a few times, mainly to gawk at the conjoined Tattler sisters. You always thought it was cute, seeing how his eyes lit up throughout the show and his pure excitement after the fact.

Dandy had all of the money a young adult could only dream of. While you both were close friends, you never expected that he would actually buy the show from Elsa Mars, a thin blonde who had her own dreams of being in Hollywood. While you were convinced it was to get close to the Tattler sisters, you didn't question it. Dandy seemed to be the happiest you had ever seen him.

It was only days into his recent investment when you noticed that his fellow performers weren't as welcoming to him as they were to you.

As far as you could tell, most of them liked you. You were always kind, and you had a genuine interest in their daily lives as performers. You had some great conversations, and you started to learn the ins and outs of running a carnival.

It was a muggy afternoon when you sat in the front row in front of the stage, quietly observing as Dandy attempted to practice his newest routine, Anything Goes. It was one of Dandy's favorite musicals, and he adored Cole Porter.

While you never had many criticisms of Dandy, you knew that not a whole lot of people would be flocking to see him perform. While Dandy looked like a motion picture dreamboat in your eyes, and in the eyes of many, you knew it was not enough to boost ticket sales. His singing voice was okay, nothing too spectacular, but there was something there.

Dandy was growing increasingly frustrated as time ticked by, and you were becoming anxious as it seemed that the crew was always messing things up. They would start the music too early, interrupting Dandy's opening monologue, or the music would skip, or the lights weren't the correct shade or position Dandy wanted them to be.

"No! No! No!"

Here we go-

"Turn it off!"

Here it comes-

"I told you a million trillion times, the blue light, is for Night and Day, blue symbolizes night! For Anything Goes, I need the MAGENTA light to accentuate my spirited rendition-"

There it is

"I'm surrounded by amateurs."

You stood up, listening as the crew mumbled to themselves, once again fearing a Dandy tantrum. Dandy rolled his eyes so hard you could see the whites of his eyes. He glanced down at you as you approached the stage, your hands behind your back.

"I want y/n to be in charge, all of you are terrible at your job!" Dandy exclaimed, gesturing to your now red face as the other performers slowly started approaching from the tent entrance. "She understands my impeccable taste."

You wanted to ask him to leave you out of it, but his attention was quickly captured by Paul, who was leading the pack.

"Flipper boy! Did you hang the banner in clear view for all to see?" Dandy asked, stepping down from the stage, grabbing your arm and pulling you along.

"Yes, sir, just as instructed," Paul responded.

"Good, good," Dandy said, "How many tickets have we sold?"

There was an awkward silence as the foursome in front of you looked at each other. Dandy was smiling, releasing his grip on you, yet you stayed close. Your presence always comforted him.

"As of this time, none..." Paul said warily. "Quite yet."

The smile instantly wiped off Dandy's face as he stared at them in disbelief. "You haven't sold a single ticket?"

"We've only put the banner out half an hour ago!" Paul said, "The town just hasn't gotten wind of your new act." he said, his words striving to be encouraging and maybe even patronizing in the slightest.

"Give it some time, Dandy," you whispered to him, giving him a gentle smile when he looked at you, "We'll be selling tickets in no time."

"I don't understand," Dandy said, almost ignoring your words completely. "You must have done something wrong." he accused, now glaring at Paul and the others, their faces also becoming void of any emotion.

Paul tried to assure Dandy that it would be alright, his words similar to your own. You were about to pitch in again, but Dandy was mad.

"You think you're so smart. You don't know anything, you stupid freak."

"He's only trying to help," Eve said.

"Oh, shut up, you ugly cow!" Dandy responded, causing the girls to gasp in disbelief. You knew they were in for it now.

"Dandy, come on, stop-" you said, taking his hand, only for him to step forward, dropping your hand as if you caught the plague. You loved him, you understood him, but you wanted to avoid this argument at all costs.

"-I'm in charge here, and I say it's your fault. No one's coming to the show because you are boring. The town has had its fill of your mediocre oddities. You're done. You're yesterday's news." Dandy said to them, going on about his new ideas for their acts.

"-Don't you touch her!" Paul shouted suddenly, and you saw him shove Dandy away from Penny. She stumbled back, watching them in fright.

"This is my show! I'll do whatever I want!" Dandy retorted, getting right in Paul's face.

"Stop this!" you said, taking a few steps closer, but was knocked to the floor as Eve stepped forward, punching Dandy directly in the nose. He fell over and, in the process, knocked you on your ass. You lost your breath, hitting the hard dirt, and you winced as a tuft of dust rose in the air and causing you to choke.

Penny had gasped, rushing forward to help you up, but the others held Dandy down as Paul spat in his face.

You didn't want to do it, but you found yourself breaking from Penny's grasp, almost shoving her as you scrambled to your feet.

"Knock this shit off, all of you!" you said, glaring from Barbara all the way to Penny, who had just placed her foot on Dandy's hand.

"y/n, I like you, but please keep your mouth shut!" Paul said, looking you up and down as you brushed the dirt from your clean clothes. "This doesn't concern you."

"Anything involving Dandy concerns me." you breathed, brushing your hair out of your face as the others stared at you. From below, Dandy was breathing heavily as blood slowly started trickling from his nose. You could feel his gaze burning into you.

"With all due respect," Barbara pitched in, "You babying him only makes it worse. It's really weird."

You knelt down, cupping Dandy's cheek in your hand as you maneuvered his head around, checking for further damage. He was still fuming but allowed you to touch him, his eyes fluttering shut. You pushed their legs off him, telling them to back off, before helping Dandy to his feet.

"How I treat him doesn't concern you!" you glared. "It doesn't concern any of you."

"y/n-" Dandy began.

"No, I'm not going to just sit around while they beat on you!" you said.

"How does a nice girl like you end up with rubbish like him?" Paul asked, and the others nodded in agreement. "He is a rude, selfish, entitled child."

"He might be all of that to you," you said, standing your ground as they all looked at you with distaste. "But not to me. Dandy is different; he's different like all of you. That doesn't make him defective, or any less of a human than the rest of you here."

The others watched quietly as you reached into your bag sitting on the chair, before pressing a handkerchief to Dandy's bleeding nose. He gave you a solemn look, holding it for you as you deduced that his nose wasn't broken, thankfully.

"You say all of you want to be respected for things you cannot help. If you knew any of the shit Dandy went through growing up, or the things that were going on before he was even born - before he was even a thought to this world, then maybe you'd show a little shred of sympathy."

You realized you were tearing up during all of this. Dandy was becoming upset, seeing you distraught over him.

"I treat him as I see him as someone who never had a chance at a normal life."

You gave them all one last glance, before gathering your stuff and grabbing Dandy's hand. He allowed it this time, holding you tightly as you led him out of the tent. You could feel their eyes follow you out. You could hear them start to talk amongst each other as you disappeared from sight.

"I love you, y/n," Dandy sniffled, wincing slightly at the pain in his nose.

"I love you too," you said, looking up at him with a small smile, “Don’t irritate it too much. We need to get you fixed up before curtain call.”

#dandy mott x reader #ahs freak show #tristan duffy x reader #ahs imagine #request

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner Ch 58:You Have To Go Through The Worst To Get To The Best

Intro The Time Heist worked, but at a cost. Natasha gave her life for the Soul Stone. Following a promise to make her sacrifice worth something, the Avengers continued their plan and succeeded in reversing the Snap. But along with everyone else, the biggest threat the Avengers have ever faced re-appeared.

Thanos.

Now Steve and Katie, along with the rest of their team are locked in a fearsome battle, between light and dark, life and death. Simply put, it’s a battle which they cannot afford to lose because they’re in the Endgame now…

Warnings: “Language!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

Sorry for your loss.

4 words that Katie was already sick of hearing. Sorry. I mean...what did people have to be sorry for? It wasn’t like it was their fault. Still, she acknowledged the sympathies that came her way, completely automatically, almost emotionlessly. She barely registered the fact she had spoken to Fury and Hill, two people who had been dead 5 years ago, she didn’t have the energy to wish she could knock Ross’ head off his shoulders and had no idea how long she had walked what was left of the compound...maybe an hour or so? Who cared anyway? She simply did what people asked her to do to help out, whilst Steve hurried around organising everyone and barking orders.

Nevertheless, when the crowds of Emergency Services, Armed Forces and Support Staff that had flooded the Compound left, she suddenly felt alone and found herself in their compound apartment, sat on the bed, staring at the wall. Just staring. It was quiet, but her mind was anything but. Her brain was screaming all sorts at her, but she couldn’t really understand any of it. She simply felt broken.

“Katie…”

She looked up to see Steve in the doorway.

“Hey.” she gave him a soft smile. “Pepper just spoke to Happy…the kids are fine. All 3 fast asleep. He’s going to wake them in a few hours and bring them back.” “No.” Katie shook her head “I want him to bring them now.” “Honey its almost 4 am.” he said, and she frowned. Ok, so she’d been walking around a little longer than she thought, then. “Let them sleep. We can go, get cleaned up and…” “Plan how we tell them their Uncle is dead.” she said softly, gazing back down at her hands.

Steve took a shaky breath. He felt beyond guilty. Guilty that he got to go home to his kids because of the fact that Tony wouldn’t. Steeling himself, he made his way to the bed, sat down next to his wife and wrapped his arm around her as she lay her head on his shoulder.

“What’s everyone doing?” she asked softly.

“Rhodey is in with Ross and President Ellis…” “Ellis is here?” she frowned.

Steve nodded “Rhodey’s giving him a brief on what’s happened. They’re gonna need to put an announcement out so…”

“Suppose it was probably a shock everyone re-appearing again.” she said quietly. “What about everyone else?”

“Well Lang, Parker and Bruce already left.” he said as his hand gently rubbed up and down her arm. “And there’s a chopper on the way to take Pepper home and a couple more following to take the rest of us to the Tower. The roads are completely jammed, apparently there’s impromptu parties taking place all over. Might be a while before we can get back through to Brooklyn.” The thought of partying seemed alien to Katie, but as she thought about it, it wasn’t surprising. People would be greeting lost loved ones, celebrating the fact the world has returned to normal.

For them anyway.

“Clint will want to go home...” Katie nodded “He’ll be desperate to see Laura and the kids.” “We’ve got a jet on the way for him so he can go as soon as possible.”

If ever Katie was grateful for having a husband with Military organisational skills it was now. He’d literally thought of everything. She closed her eyes and nuzzled into him even more, seeking out comfort like a child, as they sat in silence until they were ready to leave.

****

“I guess this is strange for you too, huh?” Steve said as they made their way into the Tower, Bucky and Sam each carrying one of the bags of stuff they’d brought with them from the Compound, Steve the other. “Yeah you could say that.” Sam shrugged “one minute everyone was in Wakanda and then the next minute it was just us, and the jungle had changed and then that Strange dude turns up and tells us it’s been 5 years and we needed to go fight one last time…”

“Has it really been 5 years?” Bucky asked.

Katie nodded

“So now you’re older than me Stevie…” he grinned.

Steve chuckled a Katie gave a small smile. “Shut up.”

“Where do you want-“ Bucky began but he stopped dead, Sam bumping into him.

“What the hell Frosty?” he said, frowning as he followed Bucky’s eye line, his eyes growing wide. Wanda was also gazing, mouth open, and Steve immediately knew what they were looking at- the large framed photo on the wall in the living room.

Even though their home was in Brooklyn this was still very much their apartment. Katie sometimes stayed if she had a big meeting, or on occasions they would crash here when they grabbed a rare night out in Manhattan. And it was for that reason that the photos in the apartment had been updated as their lives had moved on. The wall their friends were gazing at contained two photos. The first was one taken by Katie at the hospital when Jamie was hours old, the same photo also adorned the wall in the lounge at home. It showed Steve asleep in the chair by her hospital bed, hair unkempt and he was unshaven with his baby son clutched to his chest as they both slept. He remembered the moment like it was yesterday, one snapshot moment out of God knows how many, all of which the 3 people stood in front of him had missed. The second showed a younger Emmy with her then 6 month old brother, both grinning at the camera as they sat on the sofa at home.

“You….” Sam gasped as Wanda and Bucky turned to them, mouth hanging open.

Steve nodded “Yeh, err, did no one tell you?” he asked, rubbing his neck.

“No.” Bucky breathed.

“But then it never really cropped up in conversation whilst we were fighting Thanos…” Sam said, a little sarcastically and Wanda thumped his arm.

“How old…” she asked.

“Emily is 16 this year.” Katie said, looking at the photos smiling softly “We adopted her after the snap…long story.”

She looked at Steve who smiled, knowing she was allowing him the task of revealing their boys names to two of the men he was named after.

“And Jamie’s 3.” he said, looking at Bucky.

“Jamie?” Bucky asked thickly.

“Or to give him his full name James.” Steve said, nodding at Bucky who swallowed as he looked back at his best friend. “Anthony-“ then Steve turned to Sam “Samuel.”

Bucky and Sam exchanged a look, the pair of them floundering for words.

“Cap…” Sam swallowed, his eyes misting over “Wow, I’m so happy for you guys.” “I can’t wait to meet them.” Wanda beamed.

“You might regret saying that.” Steve chuckled “He can be a handful. Stubborn, opinionated, won’t back down- don’t even say it.” he pointed at Bucky who had opened his mouth.

“He’s awesome.” Katie said softly “They both are.”

Her eyes moved round the apartment and fell on a photo of her and Tony taken at her wedding, and suddenly she couldn’t be there anymore. Excusing herself she headed into their bedroom. She shed her boots, cat suit and made her way straight into the en-suite now feeling utterly overwhelmed, and still struggling to make head or tail of her emotions. She should have been celebrating like everyone else in the streets was doing. Their friends and trillions of other people were saved, but she couldn’t because again, just like the other day when they had grieved for Natasha, there was one person who wasn’t coming back. Her brother.

She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand, an attempt to sooth the pain she now felt in every inch of her body. But whilst some of it was bruising from the multiple batterings she had taken, some of it was coming from inside. The pain of losing her brother was physical, and hard. Closing her eyes she lay her head against the tiles, allowing the water to beat down on her, lost in her memories. “I got full marks on my English essay Tone!” her 10 year old self grinned up at him as he leaned against the car, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

“Get you, you little brainbox!” he ruffled her hair “That’s awesome, so awesome in fact I think we need to stop for pizza and a shit load of ice cream on the way home…sound good?” “You’re the best!” she beamed as he took her pink back-pack off her and dropped it into the trunk as she climbed into the passenger seat of his BWM.

“Oh no, you are not going out wearing that!” he said, standing up as she walked into the living room of the house.

16 year old Katie rolled her eyes “Tone its boiling hot outside, what you want me to wear? A pair of jeans and a fucking coat?” “Not that!” he scoffed, looking at the rather short denim skirt “Young lady,I can see what you had for breakfast.”

“Oh bite me Tony.” she shot back, hearing the guffaw that Rhodey gave out from the sofa before she shot out of the front door to greet her boyfriend who had just pulled up the drive.

Then she was 18, cruising along the cliff in Malibu, laughing, her hands on the steering wheel of her convertible bug, Tony in the passenger seat sipping an iced tea, the pair of them singing as loudly as they could to Drops of Jupiter- their song.

“Mr Rock and Roll over there, listen to you!” she laughed as the song finished and it changed to AC/DC Thunder.

“If you ever tell anyone about my love of Train I will kill you.” Tony looked at her over his sunglasses and she snorted, grinning.

“I’m so telling Pepper.”

“Err you know I can still pull my funding.” he glared “You can kiss goodbye to going to Oxford…” And speaking of Oxford, at 21, she was there, accepting her first class honours in English Literature and Mythology. As she smiled for the camera, she could see Tony stood up in the middle of the hall, whistling before he punched the air “That’s my girl!” he yelled “Katie Maria Stark. That’s my girl! No I won’t sit down...what did you just say?...” and he began arguing with the person behind him.

At 26 she was crying, tears of happiness as the ramp on the aircraft carrier opened to reveal her brother. His hair was longer, he looked thinner but he was alive. He was barely at the bottom before she flung herself at him, not caring that his arm was a sling.

“Hey Kiddo.” he said softly as she buried her face into his neck.

“You fucking ass hole!” she sobbed “next time, you ride with Rhodey, you got that?”

“Trust me, there will be no next time.” he chuckled as she pulled back “Afghanistan is a shit hole.”

A year later she was crying again, sobbing even, as Tony sat with his arms around her, gently shushing her as she sat up in her bed “How could he do that to me Tony?” she sniffed, her tears dampening her brother’s t-shirt as he rubbed her back, laying his head against hers. “I thought he loved me…but…” “He isn’t worth your tears kiddo.” he sighed “Grant cunt-face Ward doesn’t deserve them, or you. No one ever will…you got that? No one will ever be good enough for my Kiddo.”

And then she was walking up the aisle towards her future husband, her arm linked tightly around Tony’s. He pressed a kiss to her head.

“Just remember, just because I’m giving you away doesn’t mean I won’t kick his ass if he ever hurts you.” he mumbled and she snorted, turning to look at him. “I love you to the stars and back, Katie, remember that…” Like she could ever forget. Tony hadn’t been everyone’s cup of tea. Hell, at times they’d been completely at odds with one another, siblings estranged for 2 years at one point. But she had never, not once, stopped loving the man who had brought her up as his own. Her brother and father all rolled into one.

“I remember when you used to do that for me.” She grinned, watching Tony as he sat with Morgan between his legs on the lounger round the pool at her Brooklyn home, rubbing her wet hair ferociously with a pink beach towel, making the 3 year old cackle with laughter. I remember…but Morgan won’t.

And then the cry ripped from her chest, like someone had reached down her throat and pulled it from the very depths of her heart.

***** Steve made sure the guys were settled in the spare apartment, the three of them opting to share, none of them particularly wanting to be alone. Making his way back into theirs, he headed straight to the bedroom and heard Katie turn off the water to the shower. With a groan he stripped off the top half of his uniform, dropping the grubby item to the floor and then reached to pull off the compression shirt.

But before he got chance he heard a noise that chilled his every bone. It was a cry. A primal, raw, broken scream. Quick as flash he crossed the room and pushed open the door to the bathroom and found his wife slumped on her knees on the floor, screaming and crying uncontrollably.

“He’s gone…” she screamed “He’s gone, he’s gone…” He’d known this was coming and it broke his heart that he could do nothing to help, nothing to take away the utter desperation and pain and anger she was feeling. Without hesitation he dropped to his knees and she turned to him, fisting her hands around his top as he pulled her close, one arm round her back, the other in her hair.

“Let it out…”his voice was croaky as he rocked her, gently stroking her hair as his cheek pressed against the top of her head. “I got you…I got you…” How long they stayed there for, with Katie screaming and crying over the soft sounds of his soothing, Steve had no idea, but eventually her sobs became sniffles as she regained some form of composure.

“Steve…” she managed to stutter as she pulled back to look at him” He’s gone…he’s gone…” “Oh sweetheart…” his voice cracked, his own heart ached with grief and sympathy and love as he dropped a kiss to her forehead, pulling her onto his lap as he settled on the floor, making no attempts to move her. He buried his face into her hair, his own sobs catching in his throat.

Eventually she stopped crying, and she truly thought at that time her body had run out of tears to shed. She pulled back to look up at Steve, his eyes wet as she took a ragged, deep breath.

“All my life Tony has been there…” she said gently as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, brushing away her stray tears, “Even when we were apart those years I knew that if I needed him, he would be there…but now…he’s gone and I don’t know what to do.”

“You do what you always do.” he said gently “You get up, you dust yourself off and you act like the amazing, strong, beautiful woman you are. My wife, my baby momma.”

She gave a watery splutter of a laugh before she buried her face into his t-shirt again, and simply breathed him in. His warmth and familiar smell, even if he wasn’t as fresh as he could be after the exertion of battle, was a comfort, a balm to her broken soul. Tony was gone, she knew that, but she wasn’t on her own. She’d never be on her own as long as she had Steve.

****

“Don’t be sad Momma…” Jamie said, as Katie’s tears tickled down her cheeks, her son on her lap, Emmy sat on her father’s, despite her age meaning she was normally way past that stage, as she cried into his chest, his arms gently cradling her. “Uncle Nee isn’t on his own.” “What do you mean baby?” she asked, sniffing as he played with a strand of her hair.

He looked at her with his baby blue eyes and shrugged, as if the answer was obvious “Because he’s with Auntie Nat-Nat.”

“Yeah…” Katie said, a soft sob escaping her “You’re right. But I’m still sad, but you don’t need to be worried about that ok?” He nodded “I can kiss it better” he said, and she smiled as he leaned up connecting his lips to hers with a loud smacking noise.

“All better.” she smiled, wiping her eyes.

“When can we go home?” Emmy asked, sitting up slightly.

“Soon, I promise.” Steve said. “I think we’ll stay here for tonight, your mom and I both need a rest.”

Emmy nodded “I expect kicking alien butt for hours takes it out of you.” Steve snorted. “A little.” “You did it though.” She said softly “Everyone came back.” “Yeah, and on that note…” Katie picked up, “We have some people we’d like you to meet. That’s if you’re feeling up to it.” “Is it them? Bucky, Sam and Wanda?” Emmy asked, her wet brown eyes opening wide.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled “If it’s ok with you, we thought we could all have breakfast together…”

“Pancakes?” Jamie asked hopefully and Katie nodded, dropping a kiss to his head.

“Pancakes” she affirmed.

“Now?”

“Do you ever think about anything but this?” Katie chuckled, prodding his tummy. He pondered for a second.

“legos.” he said, nodding “I think about my legos sometime.”

Emmy snorted and Steve let out a laugh “Pancakes and legos eh son?” he reached out and ruffled Jamie’s hair “Sounds like a perfect combination.”

A short while later Steve, armed with a selection of his clothes and Katie’s for the 3 adults headed down to fetch them, whilst Katie started to make breakfast. Pepper, as caring and thoughtful as ever had sent Happy back with a selection of food knowing that Manhattan was in utter chaos and going out in public was the last thing Steve or Katie wanted for fear of being mobbed. That, combined with the stash they had in the kitchen meant it was easy for Katie to whip up a batch of batter and throw some bacon in the pan.

She set Emmy to work chopping fruit, and never one to miss out, she stood Jamie on a chair in front of her and gently guided his hand as he held the whisk to stir the batter. Katie was literally grabbing the ladle to drop the first load into the pan, the door to the apartment opened and Steve’s voice carried in to the kitchen.

“Hey guys…” Jamie squealed in excitement and Katie moved so he could get down. He shot out of the kitchen, barrelling into the lounge where he skidded to a halt by his dad and gazed up at the 3 strange adults in front of him.

The first thing that hit Bucky was just how like post-serum Steve the little boy was. Stocky, bright blue eyes and a shock of dark blonde hair. But his nose, his nose was distinctly like his mother’s.

“He looks like you.” he said, nodding to Steve.

Katie stepped into the room with Emmy and smiled.

“Jamie, Emmy….this is Bucky, Sam and Wanda.” Emmy raised her hand shyly “Nice to meet you all.”

Meanwhile, Jamie simply gazed up at Bucky, his attention focussed directly on his metal arm and Bucky suddenly began to worry that it would scare him. That was until Jamie stepped forward with all his usual boldness and pointed.

“Is that metal?” “Jamie…” Steve said, his tone soft. He couldn’t scald his son for being curious, but at the same time he had seen the apprehension in Bucky’s eyes. Apprehension that had now turned to amusement.

“Yeah it is.” He said, crouching down so he was eye level with his namesake. He held his left hand up, wiggling the fingers “Wanna touch it?” Jamie reached out and placed his palm against Bucky’s prosthetic and grinned, looking up.

“Dad…that’s really cool. Can I have one?”

“Absolutely not.” Steve shook his head with a grin.

“You think that’s cool you should see my wings.” Sam said, crouching next to Bucky.

“You have wings?” Jamie’s eyes grew wide “I want…”

“No!” Katie said with a snort.

“Fine I’ll just ask Santa.” Jamie shruggged and Sam let out a loud laugh.

“I like this kid!” he grinned, standing up.

“You can have him…” Katie winked, as Bucky stood up straight and grinned “Saves me sending him to Kiddie Prison.” “Morgan told me there’s no such place.” Jamie looked at his mother, and Steve let out a sigh. The threat of Kiddie Prison was their biggest bargaining chip when he was being naughty. Especially as the naughty step wasn’t an option, because the first (and last) time they tried that they caught him climbing up the staircase and sliding down the bannister nearly giving the pair of them a heart attack.

“I told you short stuff, it does.” Emmy said, with a roll of her eyes “I lived there before mom and dad adopted me. And all they give you to eat all day is slugs and slime…” Steve shared a look with Bucky and let out a loud laugh.

“Don’t…” Bucky shook his head with a grin.

“You gave Becca nightmares for days with that story!” Steve laughed as he recalled Bucky telling his sister about a hole in the ground where bad kids went “She wouldn’t go near a manhole for months!”

“I can still feel the blow round the ears my Pa gave me…” Bucky said, reaching up to rub at the back of his head. The chatter continued as they made their way into the kitchen. Steve went to brew the coffee as Sam, Wanda and Bucky took seats round the table with the kids, chatting away. Occasionally he caught the odd snippet as Jamie told Bucky about his toys at home, Sam all about his friend at nursery, whilst Emmy was chatting to Wanda about school and what she wanted to do in the future. But all the time the soldier had one eye on his wife as she stood, silently, cooking enough pancakes to feed a small army. Which, to be fair, was probably what they would need with 2 super soldiers and a hungry 3 year old to feed. He slipped his arms around her waist.

“You ok?” he asked, before he sighed “Sorry, stupid question.”

She chuckled and shook her head “No it’s not stupid. And no, I’m not. Not really. But I will be, in time. I hope.”

Steve dropped a kiss to her cheek and winced as a loud “GET A ROOM!” sounded across the kitchen and he turned to glare at his son, Bucky and Sam exchanging gleeful looks with one another. Steve raised his hand and pointed at Emmy accusingly. “That was not me!” she said, indignantly “It was Bucky that told him to say it…” “If this is the impression you have on my kids after all of 15 minutes James Buchanan Barnes then I’m going to have to seriously consider letting you near them again.” Katie said as she dropped the plate of pancakes into the middle of the table.

“Why did you just call him James?” Jamie asked, frowning

“Because my name is James too.” Bucky answered for Katie.

“No, it’s Bucky.” Jamie frowned.

“He only gets called James when he’s been bad, bit like you pal.” Steve chuckled, placing Jamie’s plate of food in front of him “Now eat that, and then you can show Buck your lego.”

“My legos are here?” Jamie said, grinning.

“Yeah they’re in your bag.” he dropped a kiss to his son’s head.

“What the hell is a Lego?” Bucky asked. The room feel silent as all eyes turned to the man who glanced around, suddenly feeling very self conscious. “What?” ****

“I know there is much speculation surrounding the events of the last 24 hours, and it is for that reason I find myself addressing you all once more, with regards to the Decimation…only this time I am happy to greet you all with much better news. Thanks to the brave actions of the Avengers and countless others who fought in a ferocious battle Upstate, the Vanished have been returned to us in the same state in which they left. But it isn’t without cost. Unfortunately, I do bring some sad news amongst the happy, as I can confirm the rumours are true. Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff both lost their lives in the mission to bring everyone back. My sincere condolences and thoughts are with the rest of the Avengers, in particular the Rogers and Stark families, and I’m sure I speak for the entire world when I say we will be forever indebted to the two fallen heroes for their brave sacrifices which ensured that friends and families across the globe could be reunited. To allow you all some time with those who have been returned to you, I’m declaring today and tomorrow a national holiday. So be with your loved ones. And now I speak to those who have been returned to us. For the past 5 years the world has become a very different place to the one you knew. Please be patient with us whilst we try to make sense of the fact you have all been returned to us and don’t be too hard on us if we seem a little, well, astounded. Thank you all, God Bless America, and God Bless the Avengers.”

President Ellis’ address rang out across the nation at 3pm that afternoon. On every TV and Radio channel there was. Rhodey had popped by to give them a heads up, and also inform Katie that they were talking about honouring both Tony and Natasha posthumously. Katie had merely shrugged, not entirely sure what Tony would have said about any of that, until Rhodey made her laugh about the last time he had received an honour, getting stabbed with the pin by the Senator awarding it to him. Senator Stern. Who had turned out to be Hydra.

That night fireworks exploded across the skies of Manhattan. The current occupants of the tower sat on the roof watching the symphony of colours and explosions as it light up the sky-line, Jamie opting to sit on Bucky’s knee instead of his father’s, because of course Bucky was now his favourite person on the planet. But Steve didn’t mind, well, not too much anyway.

The next few days passed them by in a bit of a blur. They moved back to the house in Brooklyn. Sam and Bucky came with them but, surprisingly to Steve (but not to Katie) Wanda opted to head to Clint’s after the archer called and offered her a room. Steve’s time was divided between speaking to the UN, various people in the senate and government along with Rhodey as they stared to make plans to help those people who had returned and found themselves in tricky situations. Some found their wives or husbands had re-married, others found themselves homeless as new occupants had moved into their flats post them being vacant in the past 5 years. Two of those people were Peter Parker and his Aunt May, who were now residing in the Tower until Katie could find them an apartment. And then there were the kids who had been adopted suddenly found themselves with two sets of parents, although Emmy’s foster family never came looking for her. And it was a good job, as they would have been met not only by her parents but a former deadly assassin and an ex Para Rescuer ready to kick the shit out of them having learned from Steve and Katie one evening about the girl’s past.

No, reversing the snap had swung up a whole cacophony of different problems, but for the time being Katie had no time or energy for anything other than planning Tony’s funeral with Pepper, and a service of sorts for Natasha with Clint. Natasha’s was to take place first, a small ceremony at Clint’s farm where they would be planting a red maple tree in her honour. Tony’s was slightly more tricky. The Billionaire had led a very public lifestyle and naturally (even if unfairly) was attracting the most public interest. They’d been approached by President Ellis, who had asked if they would be open to the service being shown on larger, outside Televisions across Manhattan to avoid public crowding the area. Katie had been horrified at first, until Pepper had snorted and reminded her that the Old Tony would have loved the attention and fuss. But New Tony wouldn’t. Which was why they compromised and chose to celebrate the two sides to Tony’s huge personality. For the Genius, Billionaire, Play-Boy, Philanthropist they would hold a service at St Patrick’s Cathedral and for the husband, father, brother, friend they would then hold a more intimate wake at the house. Pepper was also going to plant a tree by the lake house, where his ashes would be scattered eventually. And there was also the matter of his will to go through as well, but they decided that could wait.

It was draining, emotionally and physically, so it was no surprise that Katie was constantly tired and a little irritable, Steve feeling the harsh side of her tongue on more than one occasion. But he never bit back, he knew how she was feeling. He’d had to do it with his Ma. Instead he listened to her bounce ideas off him, helped with the organisation, and simply comforted her when she needed it.

On the 6th day post the return of the Vanished, things on the surface had returned to some kind of normal. Almost a half-way-house between what it had been like before the Snap and what they had become post the Snap. But what was noticeable to all of them was that they were persistently mobbed in the street, people wanting to thank them constantly. Jamie found the whole thing hilarious, waving to people as he walked with his Father one morning to the play-ground. Steve, however, after half an hour had returned home because he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“It’s mad.” he said with a sigh, flopping onto the sofa “I mean…”

“It’ll die down.” Katie yawned, “Just take a while.” “You still feeling crappy?” he asked, watching as Jamie sat on the rug with his trucks.

“A little.” she said

“You thrown up again?” “No” she shook her head “I don’t feel sick anymore just drained. I don’t think it’s anything serious. Probably just the stress of all the organising and stuff.”

But as she said the words something in her mind clicked.

Tiredness. Sickness. Haywire emotions.

“Shit…” she whispered, sitting bolt upright and he looked at her. “Bruce’s Snap…”

“What about it?”

“What if it brought everyone back?” “Well we know it did…” he said, not following her line of thought.

“No I mean…” she took his hand and placed it on her stomach “everyone…”

It took him a second to cotton on, and he blinked, looking into his wife’s wide eyes.

“Shit…” he stuttered.

“Language.” Jamie said, almost immediately, but both parents ignored him.

“I didn’t…” Steve swallowed “I mean, I didn’t even consider that a possibility…do you think…”

Katie took a deep breath “I dunno, I mean the first snap took it away…”

They stayed still for a moment, simply looking at each other, both thinking the same. If one snap had taken their baby, the second snap could quite as easily have brought it back.

“I think I need to go to the store.” Katie muttered. Less than an hour later husband and wife were stood in the bathroom looking down. Down at four different tests. Four different tests that all told them the same thing.

“I can’t believe it…” Steve whispered, looking at his wife as she glanced up at him, tears in her eyes.

“Me neither…” she whispered.

“I’m gonna be a daddy…again.” he reached out to Katie, his eyes shining as she gave him a smile.

“And I’m gonna be fat again.” There was a pause before Steve’s face cracked into a huge grin and he pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms round his neck and he hugged her close, the pair of them laughing through their tears.

“I like you fat with my kid.” he said, pulling away and wiping the tears that were trickling down her face with his thumbs. She smiled and returned the gesture, brushing the back of her hand over his wet cheeks.

“I love you. So fucking much, my baby momma.” he said softly as he dropped a kiss to her lips and she whispered into his mouth

“I love you too, my baby daddy.”

And for the first time in days, Katie’s heart felt a little less broken. Tags

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @icanfeelastormbrewing @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #sam wilson #falcon #tony stark #iron man #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye

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the-villa-x · 4 years

Text

One Year On from 2018

It begins well,

Hull away and we start with a win.

Elphick, Elmo and Hutton the unlikeliest goalscoring combination.

In comes John McGinn to become part of the midfield conversation.

Wigan are dispatched, Elphick and Steer are shipped away but that’s not the end of their story.

Draws with Ipswich, Brentford, Reading slow down our quest for Championship glory.

The natives are getting restless, calls for the manager to depart.

Knocked out the Cup, horrific, uninspiring, gone for a Burton.

Decimated at Bramall Lane, it’s looking like Bruce’s final curtain.

He clings on with a Abraham inspired 2-0 win against a poor Rotherham.

But despite a Mcginn masterclass, Sheffield Wednesday is a sham.

Enter the cabbage,

2-0 up against Preston, and Brucie’s Villa are cruising.

Chester sees red and it looks like we’ll end up losing.

Bolasie pegs them back, then a chance from the spot.

Glenn Whelan steps up, Steve Bruce that’s your lot.

His press conferences becoming agitating, calling Villa fans the “mad few”

Bruce had little left to offer,

No style, little substance, we never looked like keeping a clean sheet.

A new man in the ascendency, ready to step into the hot seat.

Enter Dean Smith.

A new dream team with O’Kelly and former Villa Skipper John Terry.

Villa connections, Villa history, looking to galvanise the players and the Holte End,

Tammy sees off Swansea and Villa looked on the mend.

2 defeats followed, but they’re only a mere stumble.

Villa went on a winning run but after that we would crumble.

Jack was flying in tandem with Conor and McGinn.

All three scored as Derby were blown away on their own patch.

Blues had their 9 minutes in dreamland, we won 4-2 they were no match.

Alan Hutton transformed into Messi, Jack lived out his dream by scoring.

A 5-5 with Forest, Dean Smith’s Villa were far from boring.

Boro thrashed down by the Riverside,

But at the Hawthorns, Jay Rodriguez was to become a thorn in our side.

The hand of Rod, taking away a vital Villa win.

But bigger problems were to come in the form of Jack Grealish’s shin.

Problems.

2-0 up against Leeds but we ran out of steam.

Leeds win 3-2 to put a dent in our promotion dream.

Reality check but heads, Conor wins it for us at Swansea.

But that kind of win was all too rare in those long Winter months.

Draws killing us, 3-0 defeat at Wigan not a good look.

January needed reinforcements but we know how long that took.

Welcome Tyrone.

Mings in at Reading yielded that much needed clean sheet,

But no goals scored meant 0-0 and Villa still missing the boy with magic feet.

Then chaos against the Blades, Villa in disarray, struggling 3-0 down.

First Mings, then Tammy and Andre Green’s head at the back post turned it around.

Smith returned to Brentford, late defeat, play off hopes in tatters.

Baggies stroll past us at Villa Park, just let this season end, why does it matter?

Shoots of recovery at Stoke, with a half time rally.

We play well, Albert equalises, his first of the season, madness after last season’s tally.

Is this the turning point? Play offs still seems so far adrift.

The whole Football Club then gets a massive lift.

Jack is back!

Not only is he back, but Dean Smith names him leader.

Armband on, it needs to be the start of a new era.

Tammy yet again, and Conor at the double,

Derby 3-0 down, sinking, in all kinds of trouble...

Whelan pings the corner, and Jack connects with the volley first time.

Villa Park erupts, we are clicking, but so far to get over the line.

St Andrews a test, sorry Trillion Trophy Stadium, whatever.

No matter the name, the occasion you can’t teach class.

Jack attacked, knocked over but he has the last laugh.

Scenes of bedlam and carnage in the jam-packed away end.

Three points, standard.

The Villa boys from Aston enjoy another derby weekend.

2 wins in a row, becomes 3 at Forest’s City ground.

It’s our Hause, as Kortney scores, season turning around.

Boro seen off again, Blackburn beaten at Villa Park.

We feel invincible, it’s easy, this Championship lark!

Next up is Brucie, first time since he’s gone. He’s carted off Jed Steer, but he’s back and by now he’s our number one.

Hillsborough 1-1 and Jed faces Fletcher from the spot.

It’s saved! Massive moment, probably play off defining.

Albert is on now, it’s all about timing.

He tucks away the winner, celebrates like a pensioner.

Tammy finishes it, 3-1 I was always gonna mention ya!

What a goalscorer!

Tammy won’t appreciate the fact I have to mention him missing a pen.

One nil down to Rotherham, Mings sent off, we’re down to 10 men.

We’re in trouble, unbeaten run on the line, looking in danger...

Talking of danger, Smith pulls of a tactical masterclass and brings on Jimmy D.

He comes on scores, as Villa get another penalty.

Jack seals the deal with the goal of the season.

We won because of spirit, desire amongst other reasons.

Playoff Rivals Bristol City, Villa Park, the atmosphere is rocking.

Their keeper had a worldie, but Conor’s goal he weren’t stopping.

A statement victory, wins against Bolton and Millwall follow.

We’ve done it Play Off’s secure, has this season been real?

Dean Smith I love you, I almost want to bow down and kneel.

Deanooooooo!

Elland Road escalated into a complete farce.

Anwar El Ghazi see’s red as Bamford falls on his arse.

Bielsa to his credit let us have a goal back.

However bad feeling was rife, Leeds fans weren’t particularly chipper.

Would we meet again again in the Play off picture?

We’ll gloss over Norwich defeat, but we’ve done what was requested.

Baggies in the Play offs to come whilst five players were rested.

A chance for local pride and a chance at a return to the top tier.

2 legs, one winner, the play offs is always a rollercoaster that’s full of fear.

2-1 up from the first leg West Brom clawed us back.

They were so deep and turgid, but stifled our attack.

Then Brunt saw red, but the Villa winner wouldn’t come.

Extra time and penalties, I felt like my heart was done.

After 120 minutes of pain, watching the Football Club we all love.

We owe most of what came to Jed Steers gloves…

Jedinak scored as well, gave the away fans a glare.

Even with Albert's miss, we were very nearly there.

Up stepped Tammy, it felt like an eternity.

I cant put it into words...

Back at Wembley again, this time let’s get it right.

Is this the year we return to the top flight?

One Year On

#aston villa #avfc #jack grealish #tammy abraham #up the villa #utv #vtid #playoffs #2019

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blueyesandleatherjacket · 4 years

Text

The Fallen, 9/17

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 9/17.

Pairings: Nine x Rose.

A/N: Tagging @thebookster on her demand.

“We've all fallen, but at the same time we're not broken. There is the hint that we are going to get up again.” - Amy Lee.

CHAPTER 9:

The Doctor woke up a few hours later. He was feeling groggy and nauseous. He tried to get up but his limbs weren’t responsive. He slumped back on the floor. Waited a couple minutes. Or hours. Tried to sit up. His mind was clouded, he couldn’t think straight. Whatever they had drugged him with this time, it was a strong one and it wasn’t wearing off easily. He groaned and rolled on his side so he wouldn’t choke on his vomit if he was sick. His head bumped against the foot of the busted bed. Pain exploded; black dots filled his sight. He stayed still. That was for the best. Stay still and wait until he felt better. He had expected Jeremy to attack again on the next day. He didn’t see him, nor any of his pets. Nash didn’t even come. Jeremy was certainly keeping her away. Isolating the patient when he was gonna need help was a strategy to have him getting desperate. Deprived from food, water and from a person checking on him while he was recovering from torture and a strong dose of drugs was dangerous but it could be worse. The Wolf didn’t show up. The drugs had weakened the Time Entity. Worse than when they had weakened his human host. But the worst was yet to come. Indeed, his biggest problem wasn’t to see no one. It was quite a relief actually. He could be in peace in that tiny cell that stunk like Hell. No, his biggest problem was the drugs. Lately, they had taken him out of his cell regularly. Scared of what he could do, they were drugging him to make him as innocent and soft as a kitty. His body had developed an addiction to those substances and now he was gonna get detoxified the hard way. For days, he was as sick as a dog. He was vomiting and trembling and sweating. Whenever he was getting a bit of sleep, he was dreaming of Jeremy getting what he wanted; of him torturing Rose to get him; dreaming of all the bad adventures when he was traveling through time and space. He was dehydrated and in a rough shape. However, he never begged for water and food. Not even meds. He handled it all by himself. When someone finally opened the door days later, he was lying on his side on the cold dirty ground. He was barely awake. He didn’t move at all – couldn’t really – when he was kicked in the ribs. Not even a sound. There was a laugh that would have given the chills to anyone able to react and he was chained up again. No drugs. What did they have in store for him this time? Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t gonna please him. Someone pulled him up. He was so weak that he couldn’t stand on his own. He collapsed on the person beside him, closed his eyes. The walls of the room he was in were pale lilac. He smiled. It reminded him of the flashy pink of Rose’s walls in Jackie’s tiny flat. The woman would never know how many nights he really spent in that room with Rose, how many nights he had spent, sat in the dark, watching Rose sleeping. Humans needed a ridiculous amount of sleep. It was annoying. He was always so bored when she was sleeping. He could have gone on an adventure alone but it was better with two. He couldn’t stand solitude anymore. Having Rose by his side was all he desired. “You look rough, Doctor.” This time, he was the one lying in a miserable condition with a glassy look and block up ears and she was the one sitting on the edge of his bed with a mocking smile. She was getting her revenge for all the times he had mocked her for her weak condition. “Time Lords don’t get sick.” “You’re gonna tel me you’re burning up because of your superior biology?” “My body adjusts its temperature.” “You just forgot that you’re human now.” The Doctor blinked. It was true. Even with a part of the Time Vortex in his mind, he remained an ordinary human who was vulnerable to every germ. Rose had a strong immune system. She wasn’t falling sick that much. But she was always in a rough shape whenever her period hit. Something he would never understand. “You have to wake up, Doctor.” Her voice was an echo. Yet, she was just beside him. Her hands were touching his naked body respectfully. Caring gestures: a hand on his forehead to check for fever, a hand holding his. She cleaned his face with a cold wet rag. Everything he would have done for her. “You wouldn’t miss the birth of this new star! Come on, Doctor. It won’t happen for another trillion years.” “What do you know about stars, little human?” he croaked. “More than you if you sleep for another full day.” “I do not sleep. I meditate.” “It’s time to wake up now.” He opened his eyes reluctantly. The walls were grey and the bed was more comfortable than usual. He scanned the surroundings. There was no one around. The place was unfamiliar. It wasn’t Rose’s room, not even his. There wasn’t the usual hum of the TARDIS. He wasn’t in his ship. He slowly sat up. His body was still but it didn’t hurt. Not anymore. Strangely, he felt quite good. Exhausted as if he had gone through Hell and back, but good. He laced around the room. The only way out was locked. The other door was the door of a bathroom. A very tiny bathroom. He was wearing a white cotton outfit. “You have gone through a terrible week. I understand that you might be confused.” He turned around. There was a woman in the room. He hadn’t even heard the door. He was disappointed to find out it wasn’t Rose. The woman was older. She was relieved to see him awake. He was supposed to recognise her. His mind was making attempts to send him signals. He rubbed his face, tapped his forehead with his thumb but nothing came. Nothing until she put a hand on his shoulder. Her aura hit him. She was not a human being. She was a shapeshifter, and one of the most dangerous. “I don’t know what you’ve done to Jeremy but he has left after your last meeting and hasn’t come back yet.” Jeremy. The flash of a man looking just like him. But in his eyes… nothing but the darkness. A dark void. The devil in person. Or almost. He was there to hunt the Time Lords and steal their secrets, their technology, their longevity. Other species had just been a funny exercise but now was the time to beat the final boss. If you could find the secrets of the universe’s keepers, you would be unstoppable. But the Wolf had preferred ruining his brain than giving in. “Where’s Rose? What has he done to her?” He moved away from her touch. He was uneasy around her. His mind was trying to retrieve his missing memories. Rose was there. She had been taking care of him. She had been talking to him. Or had they made him believe she was there? Had they brought her here and taken her away from him? “She’s not here,” answered the woman. “She has never been here. Your friend… you’re keeping her safe. You refuse to tell Jeremy where she is.” The Doctor remained silent. His brain was overwhelmed with thoughts. It was too much. The woman gently led him to the bed and forced him to sit down before he felt bad. The last few weeks had been hard on him. He should go slow. She didn’t want him to dive back. He was still recovering. “They initiated your detoxification. They were planning on giving you drugs again when you’d be the most vulnerable. But you ruined their plans and I stepped in. Brought you up here, helped you through. You’ve been hallucinating.” “I do not hallucinate.” “With the fever you had, you definitely were.” “Why am I here?” “You won’t be here for much longer.” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. Her tone was determined. She was gonna get him out of here. Today. He just needed to trust and follow her. Jeremy was away and she had distributed laced coffees to his pets. The path was free from obstacles but they had little time. She took him all the way down to the basement, to the deepest core of this asylum. His mind was flashing memories he had tried to forget. The yellow room, the purple room, the red room. All rooms of torture. That was why he hesitated to enter the green room. It was pretty naked compared to the others. Just a table with a computer and headsets to monitor a brain’s activity. He had come here before. Once or twice. This was all a blur. “We will make them believe that we did a monitoring session.” She was already working on launching the computer and headsets. She wanted a telepathic conversation with him but couldn’t do it freely. This room was the only way to do it without suspicion. The wolf inside him trusted this woman, this Nash, so the Doctor stepped in, placed the headset on his head and let Nash connect him to the system. There was a whole recording room behind the green room. Nash was fake-recording. She had gone through this process before. Not here, but it had happened. The Doctor let her in his mind and she was surprised by the nakedness and austerity of the place. She had expected it to be livelier, more colourful, but it was just a dark room with locked doors. There were two men. They were identical. A perfect copy of each other. One of the them was the Doctor, the other was Maxence. One was asleep in a corner, the other was standing straight, his arms folded on his chest, next to a silver Wolf. From the look in his eyes, he was the human host and not the Time Lord. Another surprise. ‘The Doctor has been off for a long time,’ he explained. ‘It has been me all along.’ ‘You were convincing. No one noticed anything.’ ‘We share the same memories. I know everything about him and he knows everything about me.’ ‘You all played your cards wonderfully but we don’t have much time. We need to talk.’ Her gaze was on the Wolf. It was the one in charge there. None of them blinked when Maxence collapsed to the ground. The Wolf had temporarily neutralised him to have a proper conversation with Nash. She was right. Maxence had done a fantastic job at taking the Doctor’s place. The two of them were the two sides of the same coin. That was why Maxence had been chosen to be the incarnation of this Doctor who survived the Time War. He was a strong man who had survived the worst in human terms, who had handled the burden of the Doctor like no other would have been able to. It was time to reward him for all the sacrifices he had made for the sake of the universe…

To be continued...

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#doctor who #ninth doctor #rose tyler #doctor x rose #dwfic #the fallen

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angryinternetduck · 4 years

Text

Good Years

1.7k words on Zayn in One Direction and potential inspiration for Good Years. Warning: this fic deals with anxiety and also a little bit of alcohol abuse! Please stay safe! Also - slight use of bad language. When she was little, Walihaya Malik loved to sing karaoke. She loved to sing her heart out, and the only thing that made the whole experience that much better than a fancy microphone was singing with her older brother.

Which meant Zayn was constantly roped into the singing festivities. And most of the time, it was fun. It was only less than wonderful when she asked him to play about every other night. Singing the same songs over and over again multiple nights in a row wasn’t exactly Zayn’s idea of a good time.

It was exhausting. There was nothing worse than that heavy feeling of weariness that came with the lack of energy that it took to have fun. Or worse, to look like you’re having fun, which happened any time Walihaya gave Zayn the puppy eyes when he’d collapse on the couch after a song.

Going on tour with the band was trying to look like you’re having fun constantly.

Constantly meaning every single night.

For a year. Straight.

And then again.

And again, and again.

_____________________________________________________________

Zayn felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He felt like his ribs were contracting, like his chest was caving in on his lungs.

They had a show in a few hours. He didn’t think he could do it. He felt light-headed and sick and he had a headache. Liam kept telling him to eat, but Zayn couldn’t even look at Niall’s jumbo platter from Nando’s without wanting to hurl.

All he wanted to do was go outside. He wanted to sit in front of a tree and draw and just be alone in the silence and the sunlight. He wanted to breathe, to feel the wind and the sun and the nature and watch the clouds and the birds and the flowers.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even open a bloody window without hearing the screaming masses. He loved the fans, he really did, but they got on his nerves when they stopped him from going outside and suffocated him.

He went through the motions during rehearsals and sat in the toilets during the in-betweens, almost wanting to throw up just to get the feeling of nausea out of his stomach. It didn’t work, and Zayn wanted to call quits on the show.

He didn’t. He couldn’t.

_____________________________________________________________

1 AM, GMT+1 - 2 HRS. POST-SHOW

LONDON, ENGLAND, UNITED KINGDOM

ROOM 112, THE RITZ

“You think we’ve wasted all our good years?” Zayn asked quietly, staring at the ceiling of Niall’s hotel room. “No doubt about it,” Louis replied. There was a clink, and Zayn looked up to see his glass of whiskey magically refilled.

“Ah, cheers,” Zayn murmured, taking a sip.

“Bloody hell,” Harry sighed, reaching for the bottle himself. “We’re gonna be dead tomorrow.” Zayn gave a wry smile. “Wouldn’t mind that all that much,” he said, and Liam nodded. “Be a bit of a relief, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s too late for this shit,” Niall murmured, and Zayn smiled, knowing that he was curled up in his bed, practically already asleep. “Go to sleep, Ni,” he said. “You’re just -” Niall cut him off with a pillow thrown in his face.

“I’m trying,” he insisted. “You lot are too bloody loud!”

“Oi!” Louis exclaimed. “You’re the one who invited us!”

Niall groaned. “No, I didn’t! I said I had a few bottles of Guinness, and if you wanted to come up for a few minutes, you could! Not that we should stay up talking shit until two in the bloody morning!”

“You should really know better by now,” Harry said through a yawn.

“We really should sleep, though,” Liam murmured, but he didn’t make any moves to get up. “Maybe we should just… not,” Zayn said. “We could just… refuse.” That got a laugh out of Louis, who chuckled and stood up with a stretch.

“That,” he said, heading for the door, “would be quite entertaining. Good luck with that. Night, lads.” Zayn yawned, shifting into the sofa he was lying on. “I’m not moving,” he grumbled, and Liam sighed. “You’ll get yelled at tomorrow…”

“You know how many fucks I give?” Zayn asked, and Liam sighed again, evidently already aware of his answer. “How many, Zayn?” he asked tiredly.“Zero, Payno,” Zayn said. “Zero. No fucks. Nada. I could not care less if I tried. And I’m not trying.”

“Right,” Liam said. “Night, then. Harry? Comin’ with?”

A clink. Zayn peeked an eye open to see the bottle of whiskey, empty on the table, and Harry dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely,” he slurred, and he followed Liam out of the hotel room.

“Night, Ni,” Zayn mumbled.

Niall gave him only a loud snore in reply.

Zayn got in trouble the next morning.

He still didn’t give a fuck.

_____________________________________________________________

Zayn closed his eyes, gripping his mic tight and holding back the tears. Just an hour more, he told himself. One more hour, and he’d be in bed. No more people, no more screams, just him and the silence.

The music began. The crowd roared.

Zayn bit his lip as the tears threatened to spill over.

A crowd of tears, he thought miserably, forcing a smile to his face.

A crowd of a thousand tears.

_____________________________________________________________

“Honestly,” Louis said softly, watching the crowd with a frown, “I would rather be anywhere else right now. Like, the North Pole sounds about perfect at the moment.” Zayn gave a weak attempt at a smile. “Imagine leaving, right now? Just… walking out? Think there’d be a scandal?”

Louis laughed. “Oh, you bet. World would probably go up in flames, it would.”

“If only,” Zayn murmured.

“If only,” Louis echoed.

And then he was smiling, running down the platform with all the energy in the world, and screaming and bouncing and jumping up and down and singing with all his heart like it was no big deal.

As he walked down the platform himself, barely keeping a smile on his face, Zayn wondered how the bloody hell Louis could agree with his miserable notions one moment and be beaming and laughing the next.

For the life of him, he just could not figure it out.

_____________________________________________________________

MIDNIGHT, PDT - 1 HR. POST SHOW

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES of AMERICA

A CLUB SOMEWHERE IN BEVERLY HILLS

Zayn felt like

he was on top

of the world.

Everything was spinning, everything was blurry, he heard voices screaming loud as bloody hell and Zayn loved it because nobody liked silence after a good show. He was drinking some sort of alcohol, dancing with the boys, drunk off his face.

He was a superstar, he kept thinking.

He was at a club, in Beverly Hills, in the United States of America.

Him. Zain Javadd Malik. That little boy from Bradford.

Was a star.

Who’da thunk?

Not Zayn, that’s for damn sure.

He wished he could feel like that forever. He was absolutely content, bouncing and laughing drunkenly but somehow completely calm and still and collected at the same time. He could breathe, he could think (mostly), he didn’t have a worry in the world.

Nothing in the world could ever bring him down.

He was sure of it.

The hangover the next morning brought him down.

It was rubbish.

Zayn vowed never to drink again.

He broke that vow the next night, after the next show.

The next morning brought another vow, and the next night brought another broken one.

It was a vicious cycle.

_____________________________________________________________

A fan.

Zayn couldn’t remember her name.

She was nice, and proper fit, if Zayn recalled that much, and had a nice smile.

And she asked Zayn, Are you okay?

And she said in such a way, in such a tone, that Zayn almost broke down and started crying right then and there. She’d touched his elbow, just a bit, and looked into his eyes, and asked, and it took all of Zayn’s strength not to collapse in sobs.

“‘Course I’m alright,” he said instead. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Shows in your eyes,” she said quietly, “when you’re upset. If somebody holds pain, deep inside them, they can usually keep it off their face. But you can’t keep it out of your eyes, Zayn.” She paused, giving him a smile. “Don’t keep it all in, eh?” she told him. “Can’t have you dying on us.”

Zayn swallowed back the tears and nodded.

“I’ll do my best,” he said truthfully. “Just for you.”

_____________________________________________________________

Zayn stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, a little drunk.

He watched the ceiling fan spin round and let himself think.

He was done with One Direction.

They’d go off, do their thing, and Zayn would do his.

ZAYN.

They were already starting the album process.

Zayn hummed a melody they’d pitched, remembering that drunken conversation in the Ritz of London. He thought of all the crazy times he’d had with the boys, all the insane concerts and ridiculous fan experiences. He thought of the amazing fan mail and the countless compliments, of the trillions of Tweets and colorful signs. He thought of the kindness of the fans and the love they’d given, of their loyal support and unrelenting adoration.

But then he thought of the drugs and alcohol and hung-over mornings spent face-first in the toilets. And he thought of all the mornings spent face-first in the toilets not because of hangovers, but because of pressure and tension and fear. He thought of the panic attacks and stomach-wrenching stress and suffocating afternoons spent trapped in screaming-mass surrounded hotels.

Staring at the ceiling fan, Zayn realized with a start that he was already 22 years old; he’d basically reached his prime in life but was only just beginning his career as a soloist and - dare he say it - his career as a serious artist with respectable music.

All he could do now, he thought tiredly, was pray he hadn’t wasted all his good years.

_____________________________________________________________

Tell me:

1. your thoughts on Icarus Falls 2. if any of the boys’ solo songs makes you cry 3. if you’ve ever been to a 1D or solo concert 4. your thoughts on panera bread or! 5. Tell me anything!!! Feedback is always much appreciated :)

#zayn malik #zayn malik drabble #zayn malik blurb #good years #stream icarus falls #!!!!!!#zayn #zayn fanfic #zm #zayn drabble #zayn blurb #idk #one direction #fanfic #anxiety tw #kinda sad #protect zayn malik!!!

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wildflower-alex · 4 years

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not my ordinary day 1/2

Looking from the other side of the street I could see the tram parking and awaiting for the people to get inside. I started to run, hoping I would still make it to the green light, missed a few puddles, the umbrella still open above my head. I got inside and realized the puddles weren’t really missed, because I had splashes of water all over my legs. I tried to calm myself and took a seat. It was a cold autumn day, the rain was covering all the buildings and a slow wind started to blow. You could sense the autumn was nearly over and winter was waiting in line. I thought I couldn’t wait for the snow to appear, for the days to be shorter and the streets to be emptier than usual. Because that was my thing, I never really enjoyed being around people, I never liked massive gatherings and people screaming, talking too loud, running around and so on. So winter was the perfect time for me to just look outside the window and see the nature taking it’s revenge and conquering back the streets.

It took me about 20 minutes to arrive at the college. My friend awaited me outside, with two cups of coffee.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she asked. This was just the way we used to speak to each other. It was funny at that time.

“Nothing major, just wet myself trying to catch a tram. What about you? Pass me the coffee, please”

“Same, a little bit overworked, I tried to finish that essay last night and I got two more pages. I can’t wait for this day to end and go to sleep. Actually, I think I’m gonna sleep on the couch”

“Oh, common, it’s not that long of a day. We’re gonna get through this”

“Yeah, I know. You know, the professor told us just a few moments ago we are having a guest today”

“Really? Whats her name? Or his?”

“Dunno, that’s all I got. She left just a few seconds before you came”’

“Good thing, at least we’re gonna chill for today”

We took a few minutes to finish our coffees and then proceeded to the classroom. It was such a boring day that I wished I was home, in my bed, listening to some chill music and maybe reading a book. But little did I know what a turn will have.

I was on my phone, reading something, half an hour passed and then the door opened. I couldn’t be bothered, I wasn’t interested in another guest telling me how big of a deal he did last year and the projects he was working on and blah blah.

“Y/N...” my friend said.

“What?” I said back, never taking my eyes off the screen.

“Hey” she said and poked me.

“Just a second, let me finish reading this” then I looked at her. It only lasted a few seconds, but she had a smirk on her face and she pointed in the direction of the professor. I never in a million, trillion years could have expected this. My heart started racing, shivers down to my spine and a sudden feeling of cold sweat in my hands. It was him. He was looking right at me, his blue eyes sparkling a sweet feeling. I think his lips formed a little smile, but I could never tell. Then his voice surrounded the room and I had a feeling of fainting, though I was sitting on a chair. My friend looked at me and I slowly said to her “I have no air”. She looked back and understood I wasn’t lying.

“Relax, it’s nothing, keep breathing. You got this”

“I got this” I said to myself.

I don’t know what he was talking about, my ears were filled with a tingling sound and the deep tones of his voice.

“Why is he here?” I asked her. I could not believe it. It was a soap opera, it was a dream, it couldn’t been real.

“He’s talking about finances and the things he studies at his college. The professor wanted to help us with the future project she has for us” she replied.

“There are thousands of people attending that college or who attended it and he was the best match? Fuck it, I can’t believe it. Something’s sketchy” I said.

He took a seat and responded to some questions, but never stopped looking at me. For me it seemed obvious where his eyes landed on and I expected everyone to see it. His body was positioned facing mine, his long legs stretching under the table. He looked at his watch and then at his phone. While answering a question one of my colleagues had, he texted something on his phone and then looked at the professor, talking something to her.

Then a text popped on my phone.

<< What were you reading?’>> and a new number.

I thought he was crazy if he still got my number. He was arrogant, I could sense that. He demanded me to me submissive. But I was not.

<<Tell me, was it more interesting than me?>> he added. I decided I would never respond to him, as if he got the wrong number. He wasn’t going to expose me again, I wasn’t going to allow that. But still, his lips moving, I wanted them to move on mine, I wanted his hands on my body, touching it, grabbing it, tasting it. I wanted my hands in his hair and my legs wrapped around his body, his bulge pushing on my skin. I wanted it so bad, but I could never have that. He was too arrogant, he wanted me docile and to listen to him. He knew I was weak, but my anxiousness kept me away from a deceiving relationship.

So I decided to look him in the eyes, to kinda say “I am tired of your bullshit, move on”, even though I wasn’t and the inside of my crotch was slowly getting heated up. I felt my nipples harden just thinking about his length inside me. I stood there, trying to focus on the conversation they had. After ten minutes, I felt I wasn’t getting enough air.

“I’m not feeling well” I said to my friend.

“Then go to the bathroom, go get some air. Your face is pale, go and relax a bit”

I looked at her, but not really hearing what she was saying. My vision started to blur and darkened. I then excused myself and left the classroom and headed straight to the hallway, getting myself another coffee. Good thing the cigarettes were still in my back pocket, so I went outside and lit one up. I finished it in a few minutes and then lit another one up. I was looking at the pavement beneath me. Little patches of grass were poking through the spaces between them, but they were slowly turning auburn. The rain partially stopped, only a few droplets touching the pavement. Strangely enough, a bird’s chirping could be heard from above the trees. It was a quiet day for a situation that awkward. I closed my eyes and tried to think about the quiet, ordinary life I had for the past few months. Then, slowly, the droplets started to hit the leafs.

“I love it when it rains”

My lucid dream was interrupted by his voice. He scared me, because I didn’t know for how long was he beside me and looking at me. He wasn’t the usual person, to just tell the things as they are, besides his arrogance, he had a strange way to keep a conversation with you. His usual phrases would mock you, make you feel stupid. I thought for a second he had a miserable personality and I hated him and myself for feeling attracted towards him. I never wanted it cheesy, but yet, here I had a cheesy story about a boy.

“Am I supposed to believe it is just a coincidence that you... I mean... YOU are here?” I asked him. Oh boy, how much I wanted to jump into his lap and kiss those juicy lips. As if he sensed my thought, he licked his bottom lip and looked at mine and then deepened his voice and quietly said:

“It was... or maybe not?”

His voice, his eyes... gosh, I really wasn’t feeling good. It was suddenly way too hot outside and my head was dizzy. But I had to be strong and resist him.

“How come you only appear when things settle down and I try to move on?” I would’ve added so much more, but I felt I was only embarrassing myself and he would’ve enjoyed it.

“How come you are still so nervous around me? We’ve seen each other so many times, we talked, we flirted, we were drunk... I mean, we never did anything else, but still...”

“But still...” I repeated. And I lost myself. For a split second I had a whole conversation in front of me and it was clear, I had to get it out of my chest, or else I would still be struggling with it. “But still... “ I said again, “I probably am the only one between you and me who feels there’s something strange here. I feel we’re so into each other, but you never wanted more, you never thought just for a second that maybe we should try... something else” I said.

“You’re wrong. I said it back then, I wanted a relationship with you, I even said to you I felt you were the one. You really were. I never lied” he added.

I stumbled upon his words. I remembered he actually said it, or, at least, he wrote it. I looked at the pavement again and the grass seemed greener this time. Then, I looked back at him, his lips were plumped up and they kinda trembled to his heartbeat.

“Come with me” I said. I got up and started walking in the rain, trying to reach the secret spot between the trees. He followed me and caught my hand, trying to stop me from walking. “No” I said, “Come, now” and dragged him with me. The rain touched both of us, but I couldn’t care. Under the branches, where most of the trees were positioned, students almost caved a spot for sweethearts. I used to think it was silly and childish, they were grown up, they didn’t need a secret spot inside the college, they had their own rooms. But yet, here I am, with the man I craved so much.

“Y/N...” he tried to say

“Shut the fuck up. It’s time for you to shut the fuck up and listen to me. I’m only gonna say this once. Enough with the arrogance, enough with your games. From now on, I am the master and you’re gonna listen to me, copy that?” I furiously said. His eyes were wide open, sparkling a greenish tone in them. His jaw dropped, but then he smirked and put his hand on my throat and slowly choked me and said:

“Baby girl, you are fucking delicious right now and I’m gonna taste every bit of you, including that sweet pussy I know you got” and then he licked my ear. His other hand unzipped my jeans and slowly made it’s way to the core. His eyes never stopped to look into mine, but his lips were still apart from mine.

“Kiss me” I said. My heart was beating so hard, I had goosebumps and shivers down my spine. His hand never let go of my throat and it only made it harder for me to not feel extra aroused. I wanted it hard, I wanted to feel him inside me, pounding every bit of my body, touching, kissing, loving me.

“Oh, I will” he said back to me, “But not here” and he nodded to my face. He let go of my throat, put down my jeans and lifted my legs around his shoulders. He started to lick it and I started to tremble. It was so crazy just to think of where we were and what we were doing. He kept me suspended with my back resting on the trunk. Then I could feel his fingers slowly increasing the sensation, making me explode. It was so good, that I pushed his head further and with a smirk on his face he said “You fucking like it, don’t you?” then licked it a little bit more and added “Just as I said, juicy and sweet, you have the perfect pussy, babe” and continued to lick there. My breasts were swollen, my nipples were hard and I never wanted it to end. The sensation was too powerful, my heart was beating fast.

“H/N... fuck me. Please, just fuck me, now” I said.

“Yes, love” he responded and got up in his feet, unzipped his jeans and revealed his veiny bulge, pumped up and ready to be inside me. He started to stroke it and put his other hand on my throat, again. He looked at me and smirked again, showing his big, strong teeth and as he got inside me, he pressed his lips onto mine. My insides were exploding, the taste of his full lips was so sweet, his tongue exploring mine was so hot I almost melted right there. He pounded hard and I let go of my power. I couldn’t move anymore, he fucking me was so good I was speechless, I was a mere body enjoying getting fucked between the trees inside my college yard. My mind cleared up of everything, the thrusts were so powerful that my pussy was getting hotter and hotter. He fucked me like no one before. He parted our lips and looked down at his dick getting inside me, his face getting red and frowning at the sight of that. Even if I said I was in charge, he really was and I enjoyed him taking advantage of me. My body was his, I wanted it, I wanted to be explored by him, so I unbuttoned my shirt, leaving to his sight my breasts. Good thing I wasn’t wearing a bra that day, as if something beyond me knew I was gonna get fucked.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Why are your tits so good looking?” and started to suck on them. That was it, my body was his now, I was complete and wanted to let myself go.

“H/N... I’m getting there” I said. I could no longer breath.

“Come on, baby girl, cum on my dick” he responded and started to thrust harder, while stroking my clit. His face was stuck on mine, he was so dedicated and really wanted me to cum, that I knew for sure. “Cum, baby, cum with that lovely pussy of yours, I wanna know how to please you, love”

“I...” and the thrusts were getting sweeter, hotter than ever. “I... fucking... love...it... H/N” I tried to say.

“Let go, Y/N, cum on me” and continued to thrust harder and harder. With his hand on my throat, he slowly started to choke me and a few moments later my crotch burst out. The shock was so big, I opened my eyes and looked straight at him and tried to catch something to hold onto. It lasted so long, I felt I was gonna give my last breath cumming right there. He never stopped to pound me, he actually smiled at me, pleased that I came on his dick and, in a few seconds his face got relaxed and I could feel his hot fluid inside me. He trusted a little bit more, my clit feeling numb from the sensation, then lift his head up and smiled at me and kissed my lips once again, letting go of himself and slowly stroking my cheek.

“Was it good, baby girl?”he asked me, but this time, his face got a little soft and I could sense he was really doubting himself.

“It was amazing, it really was” I said back to him.

Then he got out, looked at his length and smiled once again, then looked at me and said:

“I’m still hard, it never happened before”

I chuckled back at him and put the jeans back on.

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” he asked.

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fortheheavenssake · 4 years

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PG MM Anon Interpretation Collection - 17

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

108: Nov 5

MM ANON …… A prospective congressional candidate ……caLiforniA voting …… bankrolled by Bubba…… 🎼” ain’t nobody Straight in LA”🎼…… Nov.14th , liftoff !! …… “ don’t come back, general consensus ma’am”. //… “ William’ you’ll love the break darling “…… “ 🦄can I come daddy, pleeeeeez!!”…… “bring me back a 🦎”…… “ Well, rather you than me squidgy” …… “ I’m reading these balcony jokes old thing” ……” 🤣🤣 Philip, look at this one ‘ wicked!!”… “make it there problem, it’s her decision “ … “Ad Nauseam.

🔥🔥🔥🔥HAPPY GUY FAWKES DAY AND BONFIRE NIGHT HAVE FUN AND BE SAFE ESPECIALLY WITH YOUR FUR BABIES🔥🔥🔥🔥

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

November 5/2019 Riddle #108 1050 hrs CST

A prospective congressional candidate

Rumours abound of madam seeking elected office in America once she leaves the U.K. Isn’t this marvellous, we are at the point of realistically talking about her being gone!!🤣🤣🤣😂😂😁😁😁😁🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😁😁😊😊😊😊!

She certainly has the nonsense speak to be a politician. However, in this digital age, this madam has more secrets hidden that anyone else that l 🔒 🔐 can think of. In America there is no relationship between the media and elected officials to embargo news or comply with the request of the Palace to not run certain stories. At least l don’t think there are. Every little inconsequential and massively consequential behaviour, hobbies, financial “borrowing “ from foundations allegedly, charging for appearances, not reporting income to the IRS, the Internal Revenue Service THAT oversees the tax system in America. Good luck Rachel! Oh yes, ah, there is that pesky little matter of manipulation to marriage allegedly, ⚖️ Treasonous crimes, allegedly, violating the “of the body”law allegedly and a long long list of other possible illegalities, ALLEGEDLY!!

caLiforniA voting

LA, Los Angeles, California is where madam allegedly hails from. Might this be where she has voted, or has she ever even voted? I wonder if she ever has because that would entail her having to think about something and someone other than herself. If she does run for Congress, seems that would be where. The left leaning celebrity driven politics in that state are in her wheelhouse. We have had celebrities, public allegedly lie for and about her. EDG talked about visiting the Sussexes at FC, feeding baby Archie and how much red hair he has, SERIOUSLY PINOCCHIO??SERIOUSLY?? You going to stick with that story??🤥🤥🤥🤥🤥🧐🤥🤥🤥🤥🤥, GC, OW , HRC all chimed in.

bankrolled by Bubba

On twitter, archificial is bubs or bubba but a doll cannot bankroll anything. Bubba is Bill Clinton’s nickname. Are we to surmise, MM ANON, that she will be a paid candidate on behalf of the Clintons. This is unbelievable! But London Scoop warned two years ago, down is up, up is down, wet is dry, dry is wet. Her backers are very very obvious now in who they are! Get rid of any conservative Christian values, let the top 1% keep their trillions and manage the worlds money. The Commonwealth is quite a spanner in the mix isn’t it? This is scary stuff kids!!

🎼” ain’t nobody Straight in LA”🎼

Song by The Miracles, content of the lyrics is all about the prevalence of homosexuality in Los Angeles. Who is this referring? Doria?? I know she has a partner, but l don’t know if male or female. Is this pornography? Has madam done videos of this nature? Might this be the excuse she uses to leave the marriage, that she finally has “woke” to who she really is as a woman and is gay? I hope none of this comes across as homophobic, that’s is not my intention💜. Madam just poisons anything and everything!

Nov.14th , liftoff !!

Liftoff usually means a 🚁 helicopter or a spaceship 🚀 taking off! I am spinning that around! BIG TIME! Is November 14th the day the palace will liftoff the hold on the media 📰 and tell them go ahead DM print that million dollar dossier you have been sitting on for two years. Let the media explode the headlines with each and every bit of alleged filth, evidence, alleged misdeeds, financial and others!

“ don’t come back, general consensus ma’am”. //

LG telling HMTQ, if/when madam goes to L.A. or wherever for her six week break/ American Thanksgiving, the consensus, the agreement or majority opinion is she SHOULD NEVER COME BACK!!! All in favour, raise your hand!!!! Oh l see some people raising both hands, up that’s ok😁😁😁😁😁😁

“ William’ you’ll love the break darling ““ 🦄can I come daddy, pleeeeeez!!””bring me back a 🦎”

I have not read this or heard but l am going to suggest something. Prince Harry will have six weeks leave after RS, madam will be going to America, or so it seems just now, l don’t know where archificial will be. I wonder if the brothers are going somewhere to be together, spend time, talk over the horrors of the past two years. Maybe to Balmoral, hunting, fishing, drinking 🍺, just 😎 chilling out!! Prince William is going to Kuwait and Oman December 1 - 4/2019, the first week in December. I can hardly see this as a break but it will be away from the stress and truly with as it seems madam has been all but dealt with and contained, it would be a break! Sounds like our shy, 😁quiet😁 Princess Charlotte🤣🤣😂😂🤣, wants to go along! Prince George continues his love of all things reptilian 🦎 and wants a reptile brought back as a souvenir.

“ Well, rather you than me squidgy”

Way back when, there were the squidgy tapes. Anybody remember those? Anybody remember cassette tapes even??🤣🤣😂😂. Secret recordings privacy of Princess Diana and her lover who referred to her by that name. Squidgy can also mean soft, wet, something that when you squeeze it, it can change shape, like play-doh. According to the urban dictionary has a meaning that l refuse to type or share! I think this is Prince Charles and Camilla discussing her appearance on the 7th of November with Prince Harry YES HE IS ROYAL NOT NOT NOT A COMMONER🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬 and madam. The Duchess of Cornwall is the Patron of The Poppy Factory . They will visit The Field of Remembrance at Westminster Abbey. It will be very very interesting if madam shows and what she wears and how she behaves, or make that, misbehaves. We know she has no respect for The Fallen or anyone else except SELF!! Charles is joking with her saying better you than me having to spend time with madam!! I LOVE visualizing these conversations!

“ I’m reading these balcony jokes old thing” 🤣🤣 Philip, look at this one ‘ wicked!!”

My favourite it is, but you are all tired of it by now but, 🔥 firelight, relaxing clothes, 📺 on, cocktails 🍸, relaxing time talking. PP is very much enjoy the lampooning nature of the political comics with various drawings of madam and how she will look 👀 in a cartoon version on the balcony🤣🤣🤣😂😂. Don’t you just love political cartoons? At one time, a cartoonist was murdered when he did a cartoon of a head of a certain religion, so there is a limit on what’s prudent. He points out one, l think l saw one similar, of madam portrayed as a witch! Wicked is a stage play about the witch characters from the classic film, with the gorgeous Judy Garland, The Wizard of Oz!

“make it there problem, it’s her decision “

Regarding having a VISA to return to England, l know you have to return to your home country every certain number of months, l have no idea what or where her VISA status is at. So if she goes to America, will she be allowed to return? Sounding like they are letting the staff at the airport deal with her. It’s also her decision if she wants to return to the U.K.

“Ad Nauseam.

Ad nauseam from the Latin, means one is repeated something verbally or by action, like pounding a door, so often that it has become endlessly annoying or tiresome.

Madam making endless demands over and over and over. Pleads over and over and over. Don’t make me attend anything public, l can’t do it please, please, please. Ad Nauseam. I think the phrase Ad Nauseam perfectly describes the general feeling towards madam just now, although l would argue there are stronger adjectives some would use.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

November 5/2019 1210 hrs CST

What fun…..thank you dear PG…so appreciated…..😁💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Skippy submission

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109: Nov 6

MM ANON ………” the pest is fleeing the rented nest” SO-HO HO HO !!!………”🎼” don’t give me that do goody good bullshit”🎼…… I’ll catch him , you talk him round” …… “ don’t be naive, it’ll be longer than 6weeks.”……… “I’ve got a cunning plan”………… Mmmm’ money but NOT title!!…… “ the Privy Purse won’t finance that”. …… “ I’ll have a chat with the LCJ, ol’ Netty will fix it.”…… “ done and dusted darling”. …… 🎼” we’ve already said “ so long”🎼………🎼” With a Little help from my friends”🎼. Amen!!

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU SO MUCH MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

November 6/2019 1115 hrs CST Riddle #109

” the pest is fleeing the rented nest” SO-HO HO HO !!!

Well, madam is done, leaving. She has been kipping at SoHo, probably worn out her welcome!😁🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 Never to return!! The Ho stayed at SoHo🤣🤣🤣😂😂🤣! This is bloody fan-diddly-tastic!!!😁

”🎼” don’t give me that do goody good bullshit”🎼

MM ANON taking us back to Money Pink Floyd! Yep all about money, living the highlife, not having done anything of consequence for it, except wrong things, violence even. Madam is DEFINITELY not a goody good! I am so excited, l am trying to type so fast! Forgive any of my usual typing errors!

I’ll catch him , you talk him round” “ don’t be naive, it’ll be longer than 6weeks.”“I’ve got a cunning plan”

Like William and Catherine, maybe more intimate family discussing rehab for Harry after this horrific tour of duty of unprecedented nature and length of time. Sounds like they will have him come for that tagliatelle recipe of Catherine’s. I wonder if l could be invited? Anyhow, the length if time in rehab varies, depending on any medical issues and what substances need to be weaned off of. It’s harrowing. After medically stable, 90 days is a usual. They have a plan, all done out of love. Harry has PTSD from losing his mum, his military service and worst of all, this assault on him and his body, mind and soul. He is going to need a lot of love and l know he has that in spades. Harry, l never doubted you, NOT ONE SECOND!! You have been daily in my prayers 🙏🏻, it will continue as you rehab, recover, get your bearings back and start a whole new wonderful life!

Mmmm’ money but NOT title!!

So dealio here is, she will get some sort of financial settlement in the divorce but NO MORE HRH , NO MORE DUCHESS! She can return to her title of evil succubus! Anything to be rid of her and no title!I LOVE THIS! Guys, this is REALLY HAPPENING!! After RD she is gone, and the shit will hit the fan when the media starts printing all their dossiers that they have sat on for TWO YEARS!! Next week is going to be AWESOME!!! God bless you LG and your entire team!!

“ the Privy Purse won’t finance that”

Prince Charles is in charge of doling out money to various royal family members. It’s called the Privy Purse. So they won’t finance any settlement?? Her private jet? I think to be rid of her likely yes. Maybe it’s her divorce lawyers fees? Or some stupid demand she’s making, never ending yammering woman!

“ I’ll have a chat with the LCJ, ol’ Netty will fix it.”…

PP is long long time friends with the LCJ, Lord Chief Justice, Ian Barrett, Baron Burnett of Maldon. This was in a riddle a long time ago. Sounds like PP will speak with him and sort out this aggressive attack against the palace by ABC regarding PA. PP will set things to order with Netty aka Baron Burnett

“ done and dusted darling”.

Done and dusted, meaning everything is done, sorted, over and out, sayanora, goodbye, move along folks nothing to see here, you get the idea!🤣🤣🤣😂😂 l am giddy l am so happy about this!!😁😁😁😁😁😁🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 prayers answered, thank you dear Heavenly Father🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻. Madam is done, her stranglehold is no more! Two more appearances, tomorrow and RS, if she shows! Then forever out , she will NEVER EVER EVER BE ALLOWED ENTRY IN THE U.K. AGAIN EVER!! She will be on a watchlist so she cannot sneak back for whatever nefarious reason she might have!

🎼” we’ve already said “ so long”🎼

Closing song from the Carol Burnett show, remember that? I’m so glad we had this time together, just to share a laugh and sing a song, seems we just got started and before you know it, it’s time to say so long. The only lyrics that apply are so long, but l was singing as l was typing. Remember she dressed up as a frumpy maid with the mop and bucket as she sang? Oh l am over the moon excited! HMTQ looked STUNNING today in the bright ROYAL PURPLE and gorgeous brooch. She was DEFINITELY sending a message, l am the Queen, l Reign and the Crown has won! 🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻 GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

…🎼” With a Little help from my friends”🎼. Amen!!

I love this song, l’ll get by with a little help, this is our Harry. He will and is surrounded by loving family, can reconnect with all his close mates that he was forced to shut out. He will be just fine, in face more than fine. He is so well loved and everyone will be so glad to see that woman gone! As we used to say, let the door know hit you where the good Lord split you🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂 BYE RACHEL!!!

November 6/2019

1200 hrs CST

GSTQAOBC

This sounds great! Exciting days ahead….I have more I would love to say, it can’t because don’t want her to know….thank you PG this is great! Thank you for doing this much appreciated….and you MM Anon thank you for sending in these fantastic riddles! 😊💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

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110: Nov 7

MM ANON …… Royal blue class…… navy blue @ss……… royal winning ……… smug grinning …… “ a quiet word in your shell-like Harry, she embarrassed you”…… “Sunday night ma’am, alone!!”…… Royal Trinity …… 🎼” leaving on a jet plane , don’t know “🎼……… “Exeter airport, not far from Babington ma’am”……”What!! a brotherly tour LG?”…… SANDRINGHAM sand pit…”one disaster at a time,old thing”……” Melania has royal discretion Philip”…… “ God knows Philip, money?”…… “whatever’ but not in bloody black and white “

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🐼🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

Prayers for mr🐼 and our dear 🐼🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

November 7/2019 2250 hrs CST Riddle #110

Royal blue class…… navy blue @ss……… royal winning ……… smug grinning

Appearances today at various Remembrance ceremonies. Catherine looked stunning in her Royal blue. Might l suspect a pregnancy just based oh how very tired she looked or is it just all the crap with madam etc, plus having three children. She looked every bit the Royal Duchess and future Queen she is. She carries herself with this innate elegance, you cannot buy nor fake it. She was, as always, stunningly beautiful.

Madam on the other hand, oh where do l start. Copycat massive wig, trying to match Catherine’s gorgeous hair. Coat half open, a coat not fit for the occasion. Fake hair covering the poppy. Boots?? Really?? And that constant blanking smug look and emu attitude, this too one cannot buy, it’s her innate sense of entitlement. She’s just so inappropriate!!

“ a quiet word in your shell-like Harry, she embarrassed you”

Someone offering Harry support for the way madam behaved today. He even had to tell madam, or rather signal to her to close her legs as she was again standing as if she were going to straddle something! Poor Harry. Harry had to quietly signal this to her. He looked so official and outstanding in his dress uniform!, doing his duty today, ignoring her keeping focused yet a side eye monitoring her behaviour. He was in his own shell, focusing on the solemnity of the occasion and sick and tired of being tethered to her. Almost done Harry, Sunday she’s gone!!

“Sunday night ma’am, alone!!”

Madam will get on the plane and leave the U.K. FINALLY AND PERMANENTLY! Pending possible alleged treason or charges. No RPO, no security, no one to carry her bags, ALONE!!!😁

Royal Trinity

Without a doubt, Prince William, Duchess Catherine and Prince Harry. They will resume where they were before madam came onto the scene. Harry will need time to recover but getting back to being Royal and amongst people who love him will go great lengths. The people will be so glad to see madam gone, Harry will soar in popularity, the love for him will soar.

🎼” leaving on a jet plane , don’t know “🎼……… “Exeter airport, not far from Babington ma’am”

Great old song, l used to play this on the piano and sing a lot. Don’t know when I’ll be back again, oh babe l hate to go, YEAH RIGHT RACHEL! You’re happy as a pug in a sty to be getting out of England! Exeter is a city east if London l think, sounds like her alleged private jet to L.A. will be leaving from there.

”What!! a brotherly tour LG?”

Sounds like, remember a previous riddle where l interpreted William and Harry may take some time at Balmoral to hunt, fish etc, celebrate madam being gone. The. Cambridge children wanted to go, remember? Well it sounds like LG has a smashing idea to show the solidity of the brothers relationship and help Harry readjust, the two boys, l call them goys in my head, the two Princes May do a few appearances/occasions together. Banner idea LG, banner l say!!!!

SANDRINGHAM sand pit

Sandringham is where the Royal family goes to enjoy their family Christmas time. Catherine, despite having been with William for years was not invited until after they married. Somehow, and it perplexed many of us, madam was included before she and Harry wed. Sand pit can be a sand pit to play in or it can be a metaphor for sink ing in quicksand, burying things in a sandpit, keep things buried like secrets etc. I wonder what madam did there, did she go in areas she wasn’t meant to? What is the secret from the sandpit there?

”one disaster at a time,old thing”” Melania has royal discretion Philip”“ God knows Philip, money?”…… “whatever’ but not in bloody black and white “

HMTQ and PP, gorgeous relaxing evening clothes, today l picture her in velvet of a purple colour, and a lovely throw over her knees of a lovely plaid wool. The 🔥 fireplace is full, warm and crackling, can you feel it? So cosy and warm. PP is wearing black, cozy wooden sweater. Sharing cocktails 🍸, maybe some cream caramel for PP. he was hankering first some the other night. Close time, talking over the concerns they share. PP is reassuring her, one crisis at a time, madam and yet another attack on the royal family through PA. I truly think that was the original plot but the backers couldn’t get through.This is a decade or more long plot to destroy the Monarchy. This is only what we know, IMAGINE all that has happened that is top secret!!! As earlier riddle said Melania Trump has had foul things printed about her that were lies, she sued and won! So seating her next the Harry at the NATO banquet will be very appropriate!

They are talking about something madam has done or will be doing, possibly politics and pondering if her motifs money. Well that’s her motive for every filthy thing she has ever done so…,likely YES!

Talking about a family portrait for Christmas, again mantis previous riddle. PP funny, a blithe attitude but tired of madams black and white photos, 🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂, only colour portrait!

November 7/2019 2345 hrs

I absolutely love how you turn the riddle into exciting tales! One can so easily visualize the scenario. Thank you so much, so appreciated….good times are coming!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy

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111: Nov 9

MM Anon

MM ANON … beyond the bathrobe..…hit the spot(not)…never on a Sunday …… 🎼Sun-day my Prince will come🎼…LA Confidential …… morning TV. …… The Late shows …… “And now a surprise guest ‘Princess Megan and Prince Archie”…… “And now a word from her sponsor”…… A Meg-a endorsement … “you can have my jet”…… please!! a little decorum”…… Who’me

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK GOD FOR ANSWERED PRAYERS AND MR 🐼 HEALING🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

💜💜💜🙏🏻THANKS SO MUCH MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

November 9/2019 1630 hrs CST, Riddle #111

beyond the bathrobe

Well madam attended the The Poppy Factory Field of Remembrance at Westminster Abbey with Harry on Thursday , Camilla was dr ordered to bed with a chest infection. Now that was odd because Wednesday she had an appearance and tonight she was there. I think she just was not well enough to deal with the unpredictable madam!! She wore a boucle fabric coat by her favourite, Canadian company Sentaler, boy l bet they wish she would STOP!! The nature of the fabric and style of the coat really had the appearance of a cozy bathrobe, certainly nothing near appropriate for such a solemn occasion. As a matter of fact, the hooker boots, massive amount of makeup, FALSE eyelashes, weird belt etc etc shall l go on? I think we all agree! For the longest time she has loaded on the bronzer especially in Africa. We have been told repeatedly she likes the natural look and her freckles aka she doesn’t have any decent makeup nor money to buy. Wow was she decked out on Thursday! I just cannot get over false eyelashes which l don’t fancy anyway, but the smug face at this solemn occasion, she never fails to fail. That cross of hers was like a child had stamped it, VERY clear which two were royal and hers was not. Then there were the games of her not standing where she was directed too, at one point Harry had to motion to her and at another point she stood so close that HE had to move to take the salute at last post. If he hadn’t moved his elbow would have smashed her in the face. Wow did he look and do well. I love how the papers said he was so protective of her🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. Watching her was more like it, so she would behave! Huge wig, l could go on and on.

hit the spot(not)

As above, l should have included this, she was told where to stand, then moved, Harry had to signal to her. After she put her cross in, she returned standing too close et etc etc. Never hit the spot she was meant to be standing. Surely madam would not purposely do that would she???🙄🙄🙄🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂

.never on a Sunday

Old song called never ever on a Sunday, Petula Clark. I always thought she was the prettiest girl ever. This song is all about loving, no loving on a Sunday because that’s her day of rest, used to be Sunday was the day of rest, was it really? For some l guess, farmers never, nurses, ambulance, firefighters, police, factory works and on and on. Well Sunday is madams last royal performance, off to America after that! Hallelujah?? No loving for her tomorrow, or any other day. People just are so beyond sick of her and her behaviour. Tomorrow bye bye Rachel. Get on that sweet old airliner and fly to L.A. l have no doubt Justice will catch up. BUT at least with her gone, the Royal family especially Harry is done with her filthy smug presence.

🎼Sun-day my Prince will come🎼

The Sun, what will they be printing in tomorrow’s edition??? This song is from Disneys animated classic Snow White. Someday my prince will come, she sings it awaiting her true love, as all the old Disney cartoons ended. Sunday is madams last day for an appearance with Harry!!! My he has conducted himself so well at these services!! I am still waiting madly for liftoff day, the 14th!! I used to tell this lame joke, all my jokes are lame🤣🤣🤣😂😂 but here it is. What did Snow White do while waiting for her pictures to be developed?(oh you have to be old enough to remember when we had to mail our thingy from the camera to process our film and a week or two later we got our photos! Does anyone else remember that?) Anyhow back to Snow White, whilst waiting she sings SOMEDAY MY PRINTS WILL COME,,🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣Lame, l told you😁

LA Confidential

This is a fantastic modern, well 90’s version of a classic film noir, excellent movie. More to the point here, it is a magazine about the goings on in L.A. etc. Has madam got a tell all interview planned for her return home? I wonder how much she is going to charge for that? Lies, lies, and more lies. Lies infinity!

morning TV. …… The Late shows …… “And now a surprise guest ‘Princess Megan and Prince Archie”…

Yes, l have no doubt she will be raking in the money making appearances. Probably GK morning show, plus ABC morning show that attacked Prince George for taking ballet and the Palace, madam will be going for the jugular. She will be on home turf, and she will lie more than you have seen up till now! There are a bunch of late night chat shows in America, l am certain she will do the rounds. Introducing herself as Princess🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮, how is she going to come up with Archie??? That should be very very interesting. We KNOW she will be on EDG (Ellen de Generes )show, liar also.

And now a word from her sponsor”

This in old time radio and tv, is how they used to announce the ads, usually the radio shows had one sponsor. This may mean madam will be do some adverts. I think more likely, some big name ie GC, AC, BC, HRC, OW etc etc will come crawling out of the woodwork, supporting her publicly and quite like financially as well. People at this level could make all her IRS problems disappear!!

A Meg-a endorsement

Mega means huge! Meg is short for madam.So l am assuming or interpreting that BO, MO, HRC, BC, one or all will raise from the swamps and announce an endorsement of her for some sort of political office. This is far far FAR FROM OVER kids!

“you can have my jet”

Someone is giving her their jet. Is this just to get her out of England? I don’t think so. I think this is one of her backers, in this scheme, who will now switch to backing her us U.S. politics giving her their jet to use to travel about, make appearances, politic nature and likely endorse her as well. I sure hope Lady Justice wins here because if she is swimming politically with these big fish, she’s untouchable! How scary is this? I have contemplated writing your president because he will definitely be attacked by this cabal and her! Of this l have no doubt!

please!! a little decorum”…… Who’me

The dress she wore tonight was a repeat of the red/auberguine she wore at OYW at Windsor Castle. Huge open neck, barely a spot to pin her poppy, not that she cared. That dress was so unflattering. Decorum and madam do not go hand in hand. She has no manners, respect, elegance etc. Then when challenged she bats her false eyelashes who me??🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄. No respect for the fallen, none. The amount of time she kept her head sort of bowed after she placed her cross was so fast, if you blinked, you would have missed it! But kids let’s take heart she will be gone. Don’t watch American news, l really pray ⚖️ is done.

November 9/02019 1745 hrs. CST

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you! Looks like she thinks she will be successful in the US! Oh her backers have an agenda…..I am so relieved she is moving on….don’t fret US….she will face justice….she just doesn’t believe it. Thank you so much PG! Awesome job once again.😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Skippy submission

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112: Nov 10

MM ANON …… game,set and lies…… “ that royal DR conversation actually took place “……… game, set And Siberia …… William isn’t enamoured …… “Bare legs, ever ready Rachel “🤣🤣🤣🤣………”So-Ho hook-up?? really”……… “the RPO HAS to keep quiet!!! …… “ a scandal to far old thing “…… “ pray it stays!!”…… “extra protection , NO , let her pay!!”……… “ her little friends ‘ it’s a called a sleepover William “ …… “Yes,Edward and Sophie “…… “wheels up ma’am ,… thank god LG

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

SHE IS GONE SHE IS GONE HALLELUJAH SHE IS GONE!!!

November 10/2019 Riddle #111 1320 hrs CST

May I first say how gorgeous HMTQ, Catherine, Sophie all of them, the boys in their dress uniforms, amazing! Tears from HMTQ we’re for a multitude of reasons and to see Catherine lean in , l assume to ask if she was alright was the most amazing photo!

game,set and lies

Game, set, lies, in tennis it’s game set, match. Everything throughout this entire ordeal with this woman has been a game and full of lies. I do not think she would know what truth is, if she spoke it or lived it she might self-combust!

“ that royal DR conversation actually took place “

DR could be dining room, Doris Ragland, Divorce rules, . A royal conversation could mean a heated conversation or quite literally involving royalty. I know last Christmas there were rumours that Doria Ragland was invited to Sandringham for Christmas, but she did not attend. Then it was put down as gossip. Is this what MM ANON is referring to? But why now?

game, set And Siberia

Games on the balcony, remember TTC??? Well madam was on a separate balcony at the Foreign and Commonwealth Trade building today called the Siberian balcony. Actually quite funny, but not. In Russia, or the previous USSR, people who were unliked for various reasons, protesting or various other political reasons were sent to the gulags in Siberia. It’s the harshest, coldest environment. So appropriate that symbolically, HMTQ ha her be on the Siberian balcony!

William isn’t enamoured

What is this regarding the sleepover that Princess Charlotte wants? It’s not next to that clue, so l think it’s something else.

Well he obviously has never been enamoured with madam, does he have concerns about how she left? This clue confuses me in that there are so many possibles. Maybe he thinks madam should have flown commercial, but the private jet was part of the negotiation to get rid of her.

“Bare legs, ever ready Rachel “🤣🤣🤣🤣

Wore boots on Thursday even though she was told to wear tights/pantyhose. Naked legs at the dress evening last night and l am assuming a repeat today. Continues her big finger up to HMTQ. Why be different now?

”So-Ho hook-up?? really “the RPO HAS to keep quiet!!! …… “ a scandal to far old thing ““ pray it stays!!”

My goodness who did she hook up with? The RPO knows, saw all and must be kept quiet. Must be something huge if it’s a scandal too far and must be kept quiet. Good heavens, might explain where her new clothes have come from. Whoever she hooked up with, must be very wealthy, famous and something that must be kept quiet! Wow madam never misses a chance to sin does she? I am not going to say who l think it might be but l certainly have a very strong suspicion!

“extra protection , NO , let her pay!!”

No protection, she can pay for her own after the ceremonies today. No RPO to go with her to America. She will have to look after herself but l am quite certain she already has that handled. Wild cats like her know how to scrape and scratch for what they want. HMTQ is very clear in what she is saying, refusing extra protection and that she can pay for any regular protection out there in the big bad world.

“ her little friends ‘ it’s a called a sleepover William “

Sounds like little Princess Charlotte and her friends are keen to have a sleepover! Oh those were such fun! I would love to be a fly on the wall. I know how my six year old niece runs her family🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. Little girls with strong personalities have a way of doing that. I love it!!

“Yes,Edward and Sophie “…… “wheels up ma’am ,… thank god LG

Countess Sophie was previously scheduled to visit New York and Toronto this week, solo. Now l wonder if Edward will fly with her and madam will be supervised by them to make sure she deplanes in New York! What a rude awakening that will be. No security, on her own, unless whoever the nig wig she hooked up with at SoHo is footing her bills. Madam is very adept at that. Wheels up, means the jet has taken off. SHE IS GONE!!! Thank God LG, HMTQ very relieved.

Now l picture, the family, in their own ways celebrating that this day has finally come! HMTQ and PP, we look in, again we see, the 🔥 blazing, warm and crackling, the scent and feel of the flames instant comfort. Lovely evening dress, pondering the memories revisited today, intertwined with the hell of the war with madam and her backers. Suddenly cream caramel for two arrives along with special cocktails 🍸. They toast one another to have survival yet another war. 🥂 Cheers to you both! God bless you both.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

November 10/2019 1415 hrs CST

I thought this day would never come. Congratulations and a million thanks to LG and his team!!

Thank you dear PG….I wonder when the articles coming out will start saying she is in the US? Or will she continue to play…gaslighting is her favourite PR strategy….but we know…she is gone. Thank you PG great job….always appreciated…🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜

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113: Nov 11

MM ANON …… “H’ phone Oprah , NOW!!…… “ we’ll stay with SW for a while”…… “ my mother’s already here”. ……… “ Lottie’ tell your little friends to stop jumping on the bed.” …… BREAKFAST!!…… “ OK’ who’s for sticky maple syrup and waffles?”…… Charlotte!!!! behave. …… “ We’re outnumbered George!!”……”NANNY HELP!, …… “Wait and see,ma’am, wait and see!!”…… “yes, my friends in the service!!”… The banquet would be a good time. ……Embroil him in duties to his regiment ……’seven for a secret never to be told

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MADAM IS GONE!, Riddle #113 1250 hrs CST

November 11/2019 l took the morning to remember the fallen as today is Remembrance Day in 🇨🇦🙏🏻 LEST WE FORGET

“H’ phone Oprah , NOW!!

Prince Harry has been involved in a Mental Health initiative with Oprah for Apple TV. I do not know how much they have done of it or even started, however sounds like he is meant to call her and back out of it.

However, there is only ONE IDIOT IN THE WORLD THAT CALLS HIM H!! and orders him around like that!!! I hope he changes his phone number M! Madam is barely out of the country and she’s yammering for him to find her a place to stay or wanting something from OW! Good God Harry CHANGE YOUR MOBILE!!!!! ASAP

“ we’ll stay with SW for a while”…… “ my mother’s already here”.

As l had proposed yesterday in the riddle, a wild cat like madam finds soft cushions. Well, it does not get any softer that a billionaire like SW and her husband is worth more than that, who we KNOW has been a backer and obviously STILL IS! Now we know where Doria has been kipping to avoid SPLASH news that they hired😂😂😂🤣🤣😂😂 paparazzi and why Doria needs an assistant l I couldn’t get that last week when a photo of her ‘assistant ‘ walking her dogs made the rounds. I was saying in a riddle then, why does she need an assistant.This might also explain why she has eight million dollars in her bank account! So this is where madam will have ‘Family Thanksgiving’,OW BO MO HRC BC, the whole entire “family”. How precious, l almost shed a tear NOT,🤢🤢🤮

“ Lottie’ tell your little friends to stop jumping on the bed.” …… BREAKFAST!!…… “ OK’ who’s for sticky maple syrup and waffles?”…… Charlotte!!!! behave. …… “ We’re outnumbered George!!”……”NANNY HELP!, ……

Well little Princess Charlotte had her sleepover. I assumed it would be at KP due to security issues. Waffles, giggly girls, William seeking solace in George, little Louis is too young yet😂😂🤣🤣. William screaming jokingly for Nanny Maria Borollos, but she likely is with Prince Louis. I would love to have been a fly on the wall, l know l say that in every riddle but it’s true each time l say it!By the way William, l am still waiting for my waffles!😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣😂🤣🤣😁😁

“Wait and see,ma’am, wait and see!!”“yes, my friends in the service!!”

LG in conversation with HMTQ. She is wondering or commenting on media release of info date LIFTOFF!!!!NOVEMBER 14 according to a previous MM ANON riddle! How will things be released, all at once? LG supportively saying just wait and see, excitedly by the exclamation marks. I am sure after all this waiting the press has done, sitting on all this golden horrible but news breaking secrets of madam, it’s going to be brilliant! I am certain LG has been involved.

HMTQ also voicing concern over madams next move, as obviously once a narcissist always a narcissist, and even though madam never LIVED with the a Royal family she was privy to many events including Sandringham. I have no doubt throughout this entire ordeal the family, spoke to her only as politeness would require and never ever EVER shared information. Nonetheless, she was in the palace, observed how they do things, etc, she holds a lot of information and l don’t know what her departure agreement included but l definitely see fee doing the tv rounds, magazines, PR will continue and a book of my life if she was a duchess or some such garbage!

As we know LG has many connections in the world on intelligence, all over the world. He will be in touch with some of these individuals and keep track of what madam gets up to. I am certain President Trump who brought such valuable intel on his state visit last time, that he has has his homeland security department monitoring her and her backers!!!

The banquet would be a good time.

The NATO banquet is December 4/2019. HMTQ will host NATO leaders, it will be an all out elegant affair. I can hardly wait for the photos. This would be a good time to what. Perhaps put out a notice of formal separation on the day if the banquet? I cannot see HMTQ doing anything to overshadow such an event. I wonder if , as has been mentioned twice in riddles, that Prince Harry will be seated next to Mrs. Melania Trump for the evening. Perhaps some announcement may be made that day about a position for Harry to serve in the military. A huge part of me would love a formal announcement of separation, but that’s unlikely but l still want it, hey maybe annulment? Something!!!

Embroil him in duties to his regiment

HMTQ is pondering how best to have Harry era climate to his life now that madam is gone. How glorious. The public will want to see him and know he is finally regaining his health and happiness. Sounds like involving him in his past military career is the answer. Given his Invictus Games and involvement in mental health issues and his own, this is a phenomenal idea. I do believe it will be a bespoke role, created especially for him, non-combat of course. He has so much experience and it will help him rebuild his confidence tremendously. I can foresee a number of roles for him. This is fantastic!

…’seven for a secret never to be told

This is from an old rhyme about magpies. Great big beasts of a bird, black and white, they extremely loud and eat others eggs etc. I remember one Sunday afternoon a friend of mine and her husband live on a farm and she has a bunch of us for dinner. We got talking, they were saying how many magpies they had and the great annoyance they are. Well right after dinner, out came the rifles and we all spent a good few hours riding them of the problem. It was marvellous. DONT JUDGE until you have lived on a farm and had these massive rats with wings stopping at your or your children’s heads!! They remind me of ravens, always made me think of Poe, Edgar Allen Poe. The Raven, read it! Wow sorry kids, l REALKY DIGRESSED there, but l think you like my elaborative writing!

Anyone, back to the clue, the nursery rhyme is below.

One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret,

Never to be told.

Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten for a bird,

You must not miss.

Seven for a secret never to be told. This was in yesterday’s riddle. HMTQ feels imperative, RPO MUST KEEP SCHTUM(quiet), the manner of how Prince Harry Met madam, as MM ANON put it yesterday in PP words, a’a scandal beyond a scandal’.

What hell hath this succubus wrought on or beloved Queen and Prince Harry, the entire royal family, England, the U.K. and our beloved Commonwealth. We have many many friends in other countries who share the horror with us as faithful friends and we so love them for it!!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

November 11/2019 1350 hrs CST LEST WE FORGET

Thank you dear PG! Fantastic read once again….your personality shines through, and I love that…interesting days ahead! Thank you🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

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114: Nov 13

MM ANON ……… 🎼” let the Sunshine”🎼…… who pulled the short straw?……… palm trees at Sandringham …… “ pass the Dorito’s darling “……… Sophie’s surprise ……“ I love the belt sweetie”. … Preg-nont…… “ I love the belt sweetie” ……… “yes , smile and serve them gru-el”…… Christmas?” Musical chairs old thing” ……… more of a 12 by 6 ……… small expectations …… Kate’s red carpet …… “ bet she goes for the lovers knot.” …… Hobson choice.

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻💜��💜THANK YOU MM ANON LOTS OF 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜💜

November 13/2019 1730 hrs CST , RIDDLE#114

🎼” let the Sunshine”🎼

Old song let the sunshine in, face it with a grin smilers never lose and frowned s never win. Also from the age of Aquarius. Either way SS, Sunshine Sachs, madams PR agency, one of them known for using ‘dark arts’, deeply dark things. They have in overdrive going back and forth with the Palace today is battling statements. They have absolutely NO IDEA WHO THEY ARE DEALING WITH RIGHT LG????

who pulled the short straw?

Usually when there is a task needing done and no one wants to do it, tour draw straws and one straw is shorter and THAT person gets or has to do the thing no one wants. What might this be. RPO babysitting madam? Royal sitting next to madam at the Christmas? Who knows where Christmas will be, but this is involving madam for sure and no one wants to do what needs done! Maybe it’s who sits next to a Doria at a Christmas!

palm trees at Sandringham

Rumours of madam on the beach in the Caribbean. Are they going to put some pal trees in so madam feels like she is in L.A. when she is there for Christmas??? This is so ridiculous!!

pass the Dorito’s darling “

Oh, is Doria coming for crimbo too?? Oh dear, Dorito has been the way madams is referred to by many. Prince Charles and Duchess Camilla are dining and Camilla, l can see her all dressed for dinner, making this cheeky comment to Charles, and Charles’ red face getting redder as a broad smile and chuckle ensues. By the way, l am NOT joking at his red face, l have several times here written my concern about that along with his red and swollen hands. His birthday is tomorrow let’s remember! He is on tour in India now.

Sophie’s surprise

Sophie was meant to fly to NYC with madam. Something happened and madam didn’t show up for the flight. I looked online earlier l could find nothing about Sophie in NYC. She is also due in Toronto for a women’s empowerment conference/anniversary.

“ I love the belt sweetie”

Madam wore a Gucci belt on RS , worth a few months rent! Is this a catty comment or a genuine from MA or the crying makeup artist? Most public comments were scathing and many think she is trying to look like she’s pregnant or let people think she may be.

Preg-nont

Madam has been wearing her belts very high, tight clothes etc. The last few days PR talking about a second child and she was seen holding her tummy at Royal Hall for RD evening service. Yes yes games games games .

“yes , smile and serve them gru-el”

Another SS doozy PR crap, madam volunteering🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 at a homeless shelter near Frogmore, millionaires homeless now!??🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 on Thanksgiving, in a country that doesn’t celebrate it🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. Sorry you just cannot make this garbage up. It’s like they have a room full of zoo animals pressing buttons for ideas! No offence to zoo animals! Gruel is slop, if you ever read a Dickens that’s what they fed the children in Oliver, tastes terrible but enough to keep you alive,

GRU or GRU is the name for the former USSR KGB secret police. Surely GRU is not at play here?!

Christmas?” Musical chairs old thing”

Madam for Christmas?,Doria for Christmas?, lots of moving around so everyone takes a turn politely talking to Doria and madam. Oh come on, MM ANON, we all know THERE US NO POSSIBLE WAY they are going to be there! I have explained the game of musical chairs in a previous riddle.

more of a 12 by 6

💜💜💜💜This, l firmly believe, is where madam is. Contained , either by bars or in a psychiatric a facility, her mind having fractured and split apart by the stress all of her own doing. Good luck to all those minding her!!!💜💜💜💜

small expectations

Great Expectations, by a Charles Dickens about the French Revolution…it was the best of times, it was the worst of times…..explains everything happening in England/the U.K. now. Here we have small expectations, that is what we have or of madam and she is cornered yet her OR is working overtime and each time today BP has countered played the PR. This is a public game of chess with someone who cannot even play checkers!

Kate’s red carpet …… “ bet she goes for the lovers knot.”

This is a reference to the NATO gala banquet that HMTQ is hosting. Catherine, as usual will wear The Lovers Knot Tiara, l hope she wears a red or green Christmasy gown. I can hardly wait for the photos!!!

Hobson choice.

This goes way way back, even a film made. I haven’t seen it though The phrase is said to have begun with a livery stable owner, Thomas Hobson in the 1700’s England, who offered customers the choice of either taking the horse in his stall nearest to the door or taking none at all. A Hobson’s choice is a freely made choice only one thing is offered. Because a person may refuse to accept what is offered, the two options are taking it or taking nothing. In other words, one may “take it or leave it”.

Madam is in a pickle, so to speak, a tight sour situation. She, wherever she is, although l have a confident idea exactly where she is, is cornered with only one choice and she loathes to accept it! TICK TOCK🕰 TICKITY TOCK RACHEL! THE BELL HAS ALREADY TOLLED FOR THEE!!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

November 13/2019 1820 hrs CST

Thank you dear PG…much appreciated….🙏🏻💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

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jackabelle73 · 5 years

Text

Daddies!Klaine fic: Message

Fandom/Pairing: Glee, Klaine

Word Count: ~1,800 words

Rating: PG

Summary: A panic-inducing phone call.

A/N: This is an old fic that I’m reposting b/c it seems to have disappeared from Tumblr. The titles in this Daddies!Klaine series came from Klaine Advent prompts from several years ago.

AO3 link. Glee fic masterlist.

* * *

He loved his city. Loved, loved, loved it. But at the moment, he needed his noisy hectic city with its trillion inhabitants — at least a million of whom were between him and his destination — to give him a break already. Stepping aside to let a mother with a toddler on her hip go up the stairs before him, because even a near panic attack was no excuse to be rude, he pulled out his phone and dared fate by texting as he walked up the subway stairs. He hit send as he hurried up Broadway toward 43rd Street.

Blaine to Kurt: What are you doing?

The answer came almost immediately.

Kurt to Blaine: Stuck in mtng w/ morons.

He stopped in front of the Conde Nast building, fighting his urge to barge in.

Blaine to Kurt: Chk your msgs & call me. Important.

He waited by the door as people revolved in and out, rushing in with briefcases to attend their important meetings, rushing out to the curb to wave down a taxi. A group of schoolchildren passed in a blur of red shirts and high-pitched snatches of conversation which were swallowed by the city before he could hear anything they said.

When his cell rang, he barely allowed Kurt’s picture to flash on the screen before he had the phone to his ear.

“Did you–” he asked, breathless, as Kurt spoke at the same time.

“Yeah. What do you think–”

“I don’t know. She can’t take him away, right? It’s been too long.” Blaine had to swallow down a whimper at the very thought.

“No, no way. She can’t take him. It was finalized months ago, she had the chance to change her mind. She can’t take him,” Kurt repeated.

“Right. Yeah, I know that.” He felt slightly calmer just having Kurt to share the news with, but there was still an impending panic attack building up in his throat. He knew the law was on their side, but logic meant little against his fear. “Then why did the lawyer say she wants to talk to us?”

There was a long pause. “We did say we were willing to stay in contact,” Kurt reminded him.

“Well, why’d we do a stupid thing like that?” At this exact moment, sweaty palms slipping on his phone and needing a building to hold him up as his legs threatened collapse, Blaine couldn’t imagine what their rationale had been.

“As I recall, someone thought it would be best for Gil.” There was an edge to Kurt’s voice now.

Right. Kurt had been in favor of severing all contact. “Well, someone didn’t know that it was possible to have a heart attack from a simple phone message!” Blaine defended, drawing a glance from a young woman taking her cigarette break on the far side of the door. He tried to lower his voice. “I was braced for this the first few months, but why now? Why hit us broadside with no warning?”

Another pause before Kurt answered with a calm that Blaine knew was forced. “I think we need to take a breath, call the lawyer back, and ask her if she knows anything else. It’s probably nothing. We’ve been sending pictures and videos for fifteen months, we knew the birth mom could ask for them at any time.”

“Right.” Breathe in. “Okay,” as he exhaled. Breathe in again. “Can you come down so we can call together?”

“Come down? Blaine, where are you?”

“Umm….right outside your building?” He pictured the patented Kurt Hummel eye roll. “I was too upset to stay at work, so I took an early lunch and headed your way. I was going to barge into your office and tell you in person if you didn’t answer the text.”

Kurt sighed. “Give me a moment to tell my boss.”

When Kurt stepped out barely five minutes later, Blaine met him at the door, a bundle of high-strung nerves in need of a hug.

“I feel like I need to go pick up Gil from daycare right now, and hold him the rest of the day just to make sure he’s safe,” Blaine murmured to Kurt’s shoulder. He felt himself moving backward and realized Kurt was easing them away from the door. New York City rushed by them, oblivious to his turmoil.

“Honey, I need you to calm down,” Kurt said softly to his ear. “The adoption is final, it’s legally binding. No one can take Gil away from us. And that’s what you’re scared of, right?”

“I can’t bear the thought of losing him. Any more than I can bear the thought of losing you.” Blaine lifted his head from the sanctuary of Kurt’s neck to look at him, knowing he had tears in his eyes and not caring who saw it. He’d lost Kurt before, he knew that pain well and wasn’t sure he could bear that — or an equally devastating loss — ever again.

“You’re not going to lose either one of us.” Kurt’s thumbs wiped under his eyes. “So just relax, and let’s both go back to work, and we’ll call the lawyer when we get home.”

“The law office will be closed by then, you know that.” The physical contact was helping to ground him. Blaine was finally breathing easier but still felt like he’d been punched.

“You want to call now?” Kurt waited for Blaine’s shaky nod. “Come on then, let’s go inside and see if there’s a space we can use.”

Five minutes later they stood huddled over Blaine’s phone in the recently vacated conference room, the smell of coffee and pastries still prominent enough to make his stomach roll.

“Weston, Blake, and Associates, how may I help you?” the receptionist’s chipper voice answered.

“Hi, it’s Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel,” he answered quickly. “We got a call from Ms. Blake about our adoption paperwork, we were really hoping she was available to elaborate?”

“Just a moment,” still in that annoyingly optimistic and professional voice. A click and then silence. They looked at each other, Kurt still holding the phone up as they waited, Blaine wiping his hands on his pants. “Don’t do that, honey, you’ll stain the fabric.”

“Right now I really don’t give a rat’s ass–”

“Hey Kurt, Blaine, you both there?” Their lawyer’s voice crackled from the phone and Kurt fumbled, nearly dropping it.

“Yes, yes, both here,” Kurt said as he brought the phone back up again.

“My assistant said you sounded worried. Hope I didn’t frighten you with that message. I did say it was nothing bad, right?”

“Yeah, you did, but I got worried anyway,” Blaine confessed, voice tight. Kurt’s arm came around his shoulders, pulling him in close.

“No reason to stress,” she said with the ease of someone not facing total upheaval in their life. “Your son’s birth mom came in to my office and asked for the pictures and videos you’d been sending me all this time. That was three days ago. Today, she called and asked if the two of you would be willing to talk to her on the phone.”

“That’s it?” Kurt asked. “Just a phone call?”

“Well…” she hedged, and Blaine’s heart clenched again. “It’s my experience that once a birth mom gets that far, she usually wants to meet in person at some point. But I don’t want you to worry about that right now, okay? All she’s asking for now is a phone call.”

“Okay, maybe we can handle that,” Kurt answered for them, rubbing at Blaine’s upper arm. “It’s just a phone call.”

“Look, if you guys are nervous about this, I want you to remember that the only contact you’re contractually obligated to maintain are the same letters, pictures, and videos you’ve been sending me all along. Talking to...” They heard the clicking of a keyboard. “Brianna. Talking to Brianna on the phone is totally optional. If you’re willing to talk to her on the phone but not willing to meet in person, that is also your choice. You’re the legal parents, you’re in control of how much contact the birth mother gets to have with your son. Understood?”

“So you’re saying the law is definitely on our side?” Blaine asked. “No ifs, ands, buts?”

“Yes. The law is 100% on your side. You are the legal parents of your child. Trust me on that, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Got it.” Blaine swallowed the fear down, turning his face into Kurt’s shoulder for comfort, going limp as the anxiety loosened its hold on him.

“So...that said, just tell me how you plan to proceed,” Ms. Blake asked. “I can facilitate a phone call between the three of you, or call her back and say that you’ve declined to speak with her.”

Blaine looked up at Kurt, questioning.

“Just a second, Ms. Blake.” He put the call on hold. “Your choice, Blaine. You heard her, we’re in control here. If you can’t handle it, we don’t have to talk to Brianna.”

He stood up straight again, pulling his vest down and slipping hands into his pockets as he thought for a second. Panic abating, he tried to think clearly again. What was best for their son?

“We agreed to keep in touch with Gil’s birth mom because we thought it would be best for him, right? We didn’t want him to have questions about where he comes from or feel we were keeping secrets from him.” Kurt nodded. “Even with my meltdown just now–” Blaine shook his head at himself, acknowledging his own crazy. Kurt smirked just a little, rubbing Blaine’s arm to take the malice out of it. “I still think that’s the best choice. For Gil,” Blaine finished.

“Agreed. Is it the best choice for us?” Run of his fingers down to catch Blaine’s hand in his own. “I don’t relish the idea of single fatherhood if you die of a panic-induced heart attack, Blaine.”

Deep breath, turning his hand over to lace their fingers. “I’ll handle it. For Gil.”

“Okay then.” Kurt brought their hands up to kiss the back of Blaine’s before he lifted the phone again, turning the speaker back on. “Ms. Blake? You can give her both our phone numbers and say that we’ll be waiting for her call. After 8:00 pm would be best for the first call, and we can discuss future contact.”

Blaine nudged close again as Kurt finished the call, arms wrapped around him by the time he hung up.

“Think she’ll call tonight?” he murmured into his shoulder.

“I think it’s very likely.” Kurt murmured into his hair. “But no matter what happens, Gil is ours, we’re a family, we’ll handle anything that comes our way. Agreed?”

Family. As long as he had his family, he could face anything. “Agreed.”

* * *

#glee #klaine #daddies!klaine fic #jackabelle writes #fic: the greatest journey #my birthday 2019 #shameless self-promotion #re-posting old disappeared fic

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