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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

Text

Sad nessian part 3

Nyx pov

This is not a super popular fanfic of mine but I had this written (truly it is not edited) but I hate leaving anyone hanging so this is for you! @haepaw

Nyx loved pissing off his father. Even at the young age of 137 (young in fae years) Nyx found any excuse to disobey his father, including participating in underground fighting rings. He wouldn't lie, he also liked the boost to his ego his undefeated title gave him, but mostly he did it because his father told him not too.

"Remind me why I come to this again? Mom would kick all of our asses if she knew about this." Velaris grumbled from her seat next to them. Nyx's two younger sisters came to these fights with him. They always said it was because they didn't want him hurting himself, but he thought part of them wanted to disobey their father as well.

"Mom won't find out." Violet rolled her purple eyes- the only one to receive that trait from their father. "And because we can't let him get killed. It would be terrible for the night court's image."

They all sat side by side on a bench, waiting for the next fight to begin. Nyx was fighting someone new tonight and he was excited about it. He was tired of easily defeating the same fighters every week. He began to wrap his hands while his oldest sister, Velaris, continued to ramble.

"I'm a terrible liar." She groaned. "One look from Azriel and I'll jabber like a canary. I cannot believe I have managed to keep it a secret this long. I have to avoid everyone for at least a day after. Ugh why must you be on a mission to piss off dad at least every five seconds. Could you not try getting along for moth-" Thankfully Velaris was cut off by the announcer. Nyx jumped to his feet, hopping from one foot to the other as his fight was about to start. He began walking to the ring when Violet called out.

"Good luck."

"I don't need it." He sent her a cocky smile before stepping on the mat. He cracked his neck then looked at his opponent. It was a female- Illyrian by the looks of her wings. He was surprised to find they were not clipped. As much as his father tried to put a stop to the outdated practice, most females found themselves being clipped at some point anyways. She was beautiful, almost looked familiar to him. He felt as though he knew her, but at the same time knew he didn't. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a way that showed off her sharp cheekbones while her large eyes were hazel- a typical Illyrian trait. He was trying not to seem thrown off by the pretty female, however, that was much easier said than done. He had only fought one other female and she closely resembled a troll, so her looks had not played much of a factor. The female sent him a wicked smile before tapping both wrists. Illyrian armor began to cover every inch of her as seven, red siphons appeared. Nyx finally let his astonishment show. Not a single Illyrian female was awarded siphons. So how did she get seven of them?

"Where did you get those?" He narrowed his eyes at her. She didn't appear as thief's normally do. She also didn't appear to be a female to participate in an underground fighting ring, so perhaps his radar was off.

"I didn't steal them if that is what you are insinuating." That same coy smile graced her lips. Her voice was low for a females, but once again it sounded almost familiar to Nyx.

"Fight." The announcer sounded off, and the female was instantly a whirlwind of movement. Before Nyx could even reacted, she slammed her fist into his face.

"Fuck." After that stunningly powerful punch, Nyx focused himself into fight mode. He found it hard to keep up with the raven-haired female though. She was using a blend of fighting skills that Nyx was unfamiliar with, and he felt as though he was playing the game of catch-up the entire fight. He was always one step behind her.

"Come on, Nyx! That was pathetic." The oldest brother rolled his eyes at the shout that could only have come from Violet. It was not until the female back-handed Nyx that he realized she was toying with him. His face burned with embarrassment.

"Fucking fight. No need to go easy on me." He grunted as he spit blood from his mouth. The female- he realized he did not listen when the announcer said her name- laughed. She was bruised up pretty badly herself, but Nyx knew it was nothing compared to how he looked. Her siphons flared brightly.

"Aww. Poor High lord's son. Has anyone ever fought you with all their strength?" She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout to continue to tease the male. It struck a chord with him though. He was tired of being babied. He was the oldest son of the two most powerful fae in Pyrinthian and heir to the night court-dammit. He suddenly realized why he liked this fight so much though, she had gone harder on him than anyone else ever had- except for his dead cousin. It fueled him to fight harder. He threw out a fist that connected with her temple. She was definitely seeing stars from the way she stumbled. He guessed she was not expecting that. It had Nyx snickering. She returned with a few well placed jabs that the male knew would be sore in the morning.

"You look Familiar. Do I know you?" Nyx found himself saying as they circled one another. They were both breathing heavy at this point.

"No. Might know my sister though." She threw a kick that connected with Nyx's head. His body splayed out on the ground as he groaned. She did not let up. She sent punch after punch to his face while locking his arms down with her legs. He knew the knockout punch was coming, and so did she because her mouth was by his ear as she whispered.

"Tell Rhysand that Amara sends her regards." His eyes did not even have time to widen before she knocked him out. His last thought revolved around Amara.

Amara was dead and had been for 37 years.

When Nyx finally came too, his sisters pounced on him instantly.

"Oh thank the cauldron! I had no idea what we were going to tell mom and dad if you did not wake up within the next thirty minutes." Velaris practically screeched. He realized then that he was in his room, laying in his bed. Both Velaris and Violet were sitting on the end of it staring him down.

"What happened?" He groaned. Last thing he remembered was the mystery female telling him something about his dead cousin. Violet snorted.

"You lost dumbass. Velaris and I had to fly you to the house of wind by ourselves after you refused to wake up. She knocked you out cold." That would explain why his head was pounding. Fuck, she destroyed him.

"Yeah and you are heavy as shit." Velaris felt the need to chip in. He rolled his eyes before sitting up.

"Did either of you manage to catch her name?" It was impossible for her to be Amara. He remembered what Amara looked like and it was not that. Though, now that he thought about it, he realized why she looked so familiar. She looked similar to Amara. Perhaps a sister? Not impossible, but severely unlikely. His aunt Nesta struggled to conceive any children the entire time he knew her.

"I think it was Elle something? They did not announce it like normal, but I overheard someone call her that." Velaris answered while beginning to look over his injuries, her blue-grey eyes a mask of concern. Nothing seemed to hurt quite as bad as his head.

"I think I could sleep for three hundred years." He muttered.

"Good thing we have dinner at the house in thirty minutes." Violet chirped up. She was looking way too perky for someone who just watched their brother get the shit beat out of him.

"There's no way I'm going to that." He fell back in his bed and pulled the covers over his face once Velaris was done with his exam.

"Too bad." Violet replied in a sing-song voice. "Mom said she had something important to share with us and I am putting money down that she is pregnant again." Velaris groaned.

"She better not be. I am much too young to be taking care of their child while they galavant off to gods knows where." The oldest of the high lord's daughters had always taken on a motherly role. Even though, Nyx was five years her senior, she found herself babysitting both Nyx and Violet more often than not growing up.

"You better get your ass up, so Velaris can cover those bruises with makeup- wouldn't want to keep mother waiting." The younger sister strolled out of the bedroom, her purple dress sashaying behind her.

Nyx did not know how to broach the conversation about Amara. There was no sly or subtle way to insert it into the conversation. He did not want to discuss it at all, however, he felt this was too important to keep from his parents. They all sat around the dinner table while discussing very unimportant matters. Mor and Velaris were squabbling excitedly about something, Gwyn and Azriel were discussing daggers with Violet, and Feyre and Rhysand were murmuring quietly amongst each other. Only Nyx remained silent. That was enough to catch his mother's attention apparently.

"What troubles you, Nyx?" Feyre's eyes brimmed with concern for her oldest son. He was hardly ever quiet, usually deciding to pick a fight with his father.

"There is no way Amara could be alive right?" He spit out. The silence the befell the room was deafening. His mother's concerned look turned to a sharp one- almost a glare while his father ground his teeth together. Both his sisters gave him a look. A look to say shut up before it is too late. Mor finally spoke up after almost five minutes of silence.

"Amara is dead. I saw Koschei kill her myself. We all did." He looked toward the beautiful female. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.

"Why do you ask, son?" His mother responded in a defeated tone. He did not mean to cause all of this, but apparently time had not lessened the pain of her death.

"I met a female." He started. Both his sisters' eyes widened as though they thought he was going to out all of them. They clearly did not need to add underground fighting rings to the list of things that will piss off mom and dad tonight. He also did not miss the look that Gwyn and Azriel shared. "She said to tell you," he gave his father a pointed look. "That Amara sends her regards." His father's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his son. Rhysand wanted to make sure this was not another ploy to piss him off.

"What was her name?" Feyre interrupted her mate before he could say anything. Nyx began to shift in his seat uncomfortably. Clearly he should have kept his mouth shut.

"Elle something? I did not catch all of it. She looked like Amara. I mean she looks different than her, but similar enough that maybe they are sisters?" Nyx suggested. He watched as his mother and father shared a meaningful look.

"Who is Amara?" Violet had the courage to ask. She was much braver than Nyx. If their positions were switched, he would have kept his mouth shut. He always forgot that Violet was born the year after Amara died. While Velaris was only five years younger than him, Violet was one hundred and one years his junior. She was practically an infant in fae years at only thirty six years old. Technically, fae reached full maturity at twenty-five years, but when you live an immortal life, thirty-six seems young.

"Your cousin." Feyre whispered. Nyx's attention was caught by Azriel's shadows that were clearly hard at work. They were moving around much more than they had been earlier, indicating they were on a mission for information.

"I did not know Aunt Elain had another child." Violet offered to ease the tension. It only seemed to make it worse though.

"She does not." Their mother began. She finally set her silverware down and pushed her plate away. As if she knew that she would be unable to eat anything else for the rest of the night. Her voice was filled with such sorrow and regret that Nyx wished he never brought it up. If only to avoid hearing his mother sound that way. "I have another sister, Nesta. She is mated to Cassian, who I am sure you have seen pictures of around the house. She struggled to have children and when Amara died, it destroyed her. She blamed all of us and denounced us as family. We have not heard from her since."

"Do not leave out why she blames you." Gwyn snapped. It was the first she had said since Amara had been brought up. She was clenching her knife tightly. A stray shadow wrapped around her wrist causing the mates to have some sort of silent conversation.

"She blames all of us because of me." Rhysand finally admitted. Not even Nyx knew the whole story and Amara was his best friend at the time. Nyx sat at the edge of his seat, anxious to finally hear what happened to his cousin.

"I sent Amara on a mission she was not prepared for. She was captured by Koschei and killed in front of Nesta and Cassian, killed in front of all of us." His father's voice was tense- for obvious reasons, but he could see the hurt behind his eyes. Nyx could see the pain his father felt about the role he played in Amara's demise. "Your mother and I thought Amara was immortal- more so than the rest of us anyways. Nesta had great power that was passed to Amara and it manifested in such a powerful way that we assumed she was more immune to death. We were wrong. Nesta was a dangerous female with unknown power. She had threatened to take your life, Nyx, in retribution for the role I played. Cassian, himself, threatened to kill me. However, when the opportunity presented itself, the mates left and have yet to return. I suppose Nesta being pregnant at the time would explain why neither of them have sought revenge after all this time." Rhysand let out a long, contemplative sigh at the end of his explanation. Nyx was more than a little shocked to discover his favorite Aunt had threatened to kill him. He was devastated by her disappearance especially since no one would explain why they left. He found it hard to believe that his uncle Cassian would allow his mate to do something so drastic, but perhaps grief makes monsters of us all.

"Befriend the female, Nyx." His father suddenly demanded. His tone changing from one of grief and regret to his commanding High Lord voice. Nyx found it grating. "Many fae learned of Amara's demise. Someone could be trying to trick us. Best to keep the enemy close, yes?" Rhysand lifted an eyebrow at his son. The entire table knew that Nyx could not disobey the High Lord command. They also knew he would try his damnedest to piss off his father.

"And what if she is Nesta and Cassian's daughter? What then?" Nyx held his breathe as his father contemplated.

"Then we kidnap her and hope the couple will hear us out before killing the entire city of Velaris."

#nesta acheron #cassian #nessian #nyx acotar #acotar #acosf

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mindofharry · 3 years

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in which you and grayson find yourself in the most absurd situation.

set in the 1800s, based on bridgerton.

a little bit of everything!! enjoy - feedback welcome as always! <3

“so, let me get this right, your grace”

“it’s grayson” he interrupted clearing his throat as you both promenaded along the river, your mama and his aunt following behind.

“you want us to pretend to court? may i speak freely, grayson” you asked looking up, grayson rolled his and nodded, loaning you were going to speak to him whatever way you wanted with or without his permission.

“we have nothing in common. and i do not like your manners and the way you treat me and others around you” you rambled looking around at the people, also promenading and looking for potiental suitors.

You also noticed how the men were gazing at you in a way you’ve never seen before. Like you were a prize, the feeling didn’t feel good, it felt as if you were some trophy.

But you guessed that is all what women are to certain men, a trophy they can win and put up high in their house. sometimes you didn’t feel opposed to being someone’s trophy, but with the duke beside you, that feeling never came. All that came was disgust and wanting to cover up your body even more than your mother already made you.

“do forgive me if i’m wrong, but have you the way the suitors have been looking at you, and all we’ve done is look at eachother and smile a few times” grayson said, moving his hand over towards the group of men to prove his point.

“you’re a duke, grayson. I’m not yet prepared enough for that” you say and he nodded, obviously agreeing.

“that’s why courting exists, and i’ve seen how impatient your mama is. It might get her off your back for a little bit. You have a little more time to properly talk with the pointer suitors.” grayson argued, stopping infront of you.

“so this is a rouse then?” you asked placing your un opened umbrella infront of you, leaning your hands on it. Grayson nodded and stepped a little closer, your breathe hitched as you felt his breathe close to your face. “an agreement if you will. you get more time, i don’t have any mama’s trying to wed their daughters to me. It’s a win win.” he said trying to convince you.

“it’s not like we’ll actually get married. tell your mama you’re leaving your options open, or tell her you’re madly in love with me” he teased earning a slap on the arm from you and wide grin. he looked around and smirked.

“so are we in agreement?”

“i think we are��

Soon enough people started noticing you and grayson together — more people meaning more potential suitors for you. your drawing room was filled with men and your papa was not one bit happy about it, and suprisingly neither was your mama.

They had both taken a liking to grayson.

You weren’t sure if it was his charm or because of his title, but nevertheless they were set on you and him courting for more than a week. you even overheard your mother talking to the head maid about a wedding sometime in the spring.

A wedding in the spring sounded superb.

A wedding with grayson in the spring sounded traumatic.

“Grayson” you asked both of you sat beside each other, eating a rather delicious piece of cake. Grayson even bought the most expensive one, just for the both of you. That rather impressed you, you admit.

“Y/N” he mocked leaning back in the seat.

“I’d like to know you a little better. I mean, i know your name, your title and that you have a twin brother. That is all, your grace”

“just how i like it to be” grayson replied. Grayson was rather young when he became the duke, his brother didn’t want this life (grayson had to be the bigger person). The stress of being a duke, has made him sour and cold, and not up for anything to do with marriage. If he was ever to marry he’s sure it would be the most awful thing to come to his short life. He doesn’t understand what the fuss is all about, if you love someone, why do you have to go through all of the dramatics, surely just saying it enough?

Grayson didn’t understand the fascination and he’s not sure he ever will.

“Well, what’s your favourite colour?” you asked earning, a loud laugh. you smiled at the sound, it was nice to see him smiling for once. You knew he had it rough, so you could take the coldness and moodiness if this it was came out at some points of the time you guys are ‘courting’.

“It’s green. like forest green. It’s a dark but rather happy green”

“just like you, grayson” you added, grayson raised any brow making you blush “i just met, that you seem rather broody and dark but once you actually sit down and talk you’re a very warm man” you rambled. God, you were just trying to make some sort of conversation and your witty comebacks were not helping you.

“Let’s get you back home, shall we?”

you frowned standing up, you saw the governorness walking slowly behind you both. even though you were very much out in the open, you still had to be chaperoned, a part you hated very much.

“forgive me, your grace. I didn’t mean to be so rude” you say touching his hand ever so lightly. Grayson cleared his throat shaking his head “never mind that. shall we finish the game of 20 questions?” he teased, easing the butterflies in your stomach.

“my brother is called ethan. Smart man. Married last spring. I still don’t understand how i’m the duke, the man is quite smart and orderly. And a sister Cameron, who moved to the country with her family some years back” he said you nodding and listening very carefully.

“I think you’re quite smart, grayson.” you smiled, you reached home a lot quicker than expected. And for some reason, you wished he would ask you out again.

“Hmm. Have a good evening, y/n”

And with that the duke left, only you and your governorness. “i think he’d make a great husband” your governorness, anna, whispered.

“yeah. i do too”

You were in the drawing room playing piano when the duke was announced.

“Lady Y/L/N, The duke of jersey”

you turned around to see the duke, your parents bowing and praising every move grayson took. you stood from the piano and met grayson halfway.

you smiled and bowed “your grace” you teased earning a laugh. you looked behind grayson and saw the smiles on your parents face and the nod the both gave you before sitting back down.

“i came here to formally invite you and your family to the ball i’m hosting.” he said his hands becoming weirdly sweaty and his heart beating rapidly awaiting your answer.

you looked magnificent today, you hair was up in braids and your dress was simple but beautiful. The necklace that adorned on your neck was something he wished he bought you himself, it looked rather beautiful on you. Grayson had to remind himself numerous times during the two weeks you have been courting that it’s not real, that this will end soon and you will both go seperate ways. But a part of him wants to just pretend it’s real, he wants you to look at him the way you do without any agreement or rouse.

but of course, that would never happen.

you were both too different, he was a duke for christ sake. It just wouldn’t work out. So he pushed those feelings deep, deep down. And hopefully they’d never reappear, like they are doing right now.

“oh, of course! i’d never say no to a ball!” you squealed, your mother cleared her throat to remind you of your manners.

“forgive me. It would be an honour”

“I was thinking i could buy you a dress? Go to the tailors, pick out anything and i’ll get it for you” he said, grayson insisted on spoiling you. Buying you flowers and now dresses, your mother thought it was sweet, you did too. But it was very unnecessary, you didn’t want him wasting his savings on you.

“Oh! my grace, i couldn’t ask that of you”

“i’m buying and that’s it” he smiled bringing your hand up to his lips, making your breathe hitch and your heart speed up.

“see you there, y/n”

The next couple of days were spent preparing for the ball and of course accompanying you in picking a gown. He never actually knew how much went into making and choosing a gown, he’d never speak bad about shopping how, he was exhausted.

“i like you better, grayson” you say browsing the fabrics. Grayson snorted causing some of the people around him to stare.

“and why is that?” he asked leaning against the wall as you picked out a few fabrics. It was honestly quite relaxing seeing you in your element. It made him happy to see you happy.

“you’re more open. you smile” you grinned looking over at him “and i must say you’re manners are magnificent, your grace” she giggled making grayson shake his head. “you’re strange” he mumbled, his heart doing that weird thing again, and this time he doesn’t push those feelings away, he lets them stay. And it feels pretty good.

“how many dances should we have tonight? i think two should suffice” you mumble looking up at your ‘suitor’. You wished it was real, there, you had admitted. you wanted to know what his lips felts like and his felt like without gloves. you wondered what he was like early in the morning and late in the evening. what he had on sundays and did he ever eat too much he was sick? all these questions would be answered if you just admitted your feelings, but no, you knew grayson did not want to marry.

And sadly, you don’t think you’d be an exception.

“Not too worry, my lady. I’ll take these from you. My grace” the lady bowed taking the fabrics from y/n.

“i shall have this complete in no time, i have your measurements and such, so i only need you to try it on again”

You had already tried on the main part of the dress, but you wanted some sparkly fabric to add to it and maybe a bow. It was just last minute (anxiety induced) details, you wanted to add before the ball.

“thank you so much. we’ll be back in an hour”

“i don’t know how you do it” grayson said as you put your arm around his. “well, i like to shop, i like design” you smile “it’s quite fun actually.”

grayson thinks it’s quite fun too.

“I can feel the glare of your governess. how about some miniatures?” grayson asked getting a smile out of you. you nodded “that sounds lovely, grayson”.

The ball looks so amazing, it’s not like anything you’ve ever been to before.

There’s chandeliers and lights everywhere and the paintings are the most magnificent things you’ve ever seen, why had grayson been hiding such an extraordinary home from you? You could love in this room, ignoring the massive castle the duke resided in. This room was something you could only wished you could pull off when you finally marry.

Maybe, one day, you sighed.

“why the long face, ms Y/L/N?” a voice called out, making you turn around with a grin.

grayson looked just as beautiful as the lights and paintings, dare you say handsome. Something about the way his hair feel and his skin glimmered did something to you.

Grayson could say the same about you — god, your smile and the way your eyes lit up just for him was nearly enough for him to propose on the spot. Your hair was done up, but grayson just wanted to run his hands through it and head you sigh in complete relaxation.

“No frown. The ball is so beautiful, your grace” you say bowing causing grayson to laugh.

“Come with me, i have something you might like”

The duke dragged you out of the room ignoring the looks of mamas and debutants. He pulled you into what you could only describe as some sort of exhibit. Paintings adorned all over the walls and a fire place right in the middle of the wall. This had to be your favourite room thus far — excluding where the ball is taking place. The paintings were absolutely extraordinary and somehow even with a handsome duke beside you, you couldn’t take your eyes from them.

“My mother painted most of these — i think all, forgive me if i’m incorrect” grayson started moving to a beautiful painting off the sky. “She used to go to this cottage every summer, she brought me down last year when i became the duke. I painted with her and we talked. She’s extraordinary at art a shame my father never let her sell any or earn any money” he said with a shaky breathe. “She died this fall, along with my father. So these are the only things i have as a reminder of her, or of them. My sister took all of their belongings for safe keeping. Ethan does not care too much. I wish i was trusted more” grayson admitted, basically knocking the wind out of you.

You knew his parents had died, but you never knew how much hurt he still felt. Of course, thinking back that was such a stupid thought. His parents had died one after the other, leaving such a young duke behind.

“Your mother is very extraordinary indeed. Just like you” you say getting a smile out of the duke. “i must say the clouds and the river one must be my favourite.” you say easing the tension.

grayson nodded in agreement.

You turn to the duke, only now realising how close you actually were. “i trust you. a lot more than i should, my grace.” you whispered looking up at him, a flush appearing in your cheeks.

“i wish i had gotten to know you sooner” he admitted making your breathe hitch. “i wish i never came up with this agreement. i wish i just asked you to marry me then and there. Because you are the smartest, most beautiful woman i have ever had to privilege of meeting”

your eyes filled up with tears, as grayson held your hand. He started to pull down the sleeve of your glove, you eyes widening but there was no objecting. You felt your glove fall down the ground and the duke big, soft hand take its place.

“We will be married”

“And you will be my dutchess”

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nanashiii · 3 years

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Heron x queen!reader

So this is my first fandom contribution ever and even if it sucks I'm happy with it lol, it's kinda of a wip and since english is not my first language...well, it may just worsen the whole thing :,)

@zen-gordon I'm sorry it took so much time to write it 😖😖

↠ Wc: 1.7k

↠ Chapter 1

↠ Warnings: none yet

There was something to be revealed to you, the new queen of the polis, your mother wanted to warn you about who you really are.

She seemed to be delirious that night, it was a celebration, everyone was partying, the Palace in an uproar for some successful hunt or something of the same relevance for the nobles.

"Y/n, my ... daughter, listen to me, please ..." she was disheveled, so different from her usual self, eyes trembling. You thought it was the drink's fault, the wine must have been too strong.

It was a foolish judgment, the queen had been poisoned that same night, during the feast.

You guided her to the royal quarters, your mother's speech becoming more and more vague. And waiting for her to fall asleep, you stared at the night sky.

An eagle watched both of you from the top of a tree, which years before, had been struck by lightning. The bird was abnormally big, aside from the fact that it was nothing nocturnal.

The observation lasted a few minutes - a clash of swords and shields made you jump from the bed, which you have sited next to the queen - the woman lulled into an apparently peaceful sleep.

A maid - Lamia, the queen's most old and loyal lady, entered the room like a gust of wind, her eyes wide and blood on her robes matching her panicked face.

She was crying, her hands trembling as she grabbed yours in an attempt to get you out of the room.

You were on your feet instantly.

"My sweet child." The maid sobbed. "I can't let them kill you too."

"What?!" You felt the air escaping your lungs way too fast.

"The king is dead ... the queen ..." the woman staggered, trying to contain her crying. "Poisoned. There was poison in her food and drinks and ..."

The world seemed to shatter around you, at least, you world, the servant's words becoming distant murmurs. You turned, almost falling on the queen's bed, grabbing a hand that was already cold and purple with some grotesque poison.

Before a scream broke from your throat, someone covered your mouth, dragging you out of the room. You couldn't tell if it was the maid or a guard. Everything looked like a blur between tears, howls and a metallic smell that was beginning to approach.

The guards who remained in the stable placed you at the maid's side upon two black steeds, assuring that they would follow the new queen, you, soon. But first they would need to find the murderer.

The night had never seemed so terrifying to you, but Lamia tightened her knuckles, her eyes red with tears lit by the moon.

"We will take refuge in the Palace of your Aunt, in the neighboring polis." She will give you all the support you need." Lamia said, looking back one last time, you followed her movement.

Something in your heart seemed to sunk, as if someone had staked it there, tears flowed hot, sobs broke out and somehow now your horse was on the trail of the other steed.

It was a nightmare, Phobetor was playing with you.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

He wasn't.

The next morning was so real that you almost felt ill. Taken by the shock, you arrived at your Aunt's palace in the polis that had heavy rain clouds but, strangely, didn't let not even one drop touch the soil. Even so, nothing seemed to matter at that moment, you were guided to a new room, an aunt dismayed and angry at what they did to her brother, shouted orders to your own remaings guards and when things calmed down days later, she decided that you coronation should be done there and soon.

The aid of a noble should always be questioned, she would probably ask for favors during the next years, but you couldn't even bear the thoughts of dealing with it, so the best option was to ignore your aunt's apparently innocent help.

"My queen, may I suggest something?" Lamia mumbled, she have spent more time by your side since that cursed night.

She couldn't ignore your current state, the sleepless nights and nocturnal fears were claiming it's own price. There were always creeping nightmares waiting for you, so the wandering nights inside your aunt's palace seemed much more appealing than a nightmare filled sleep. Soon both of you would need to go back to your truly palace, it seemed that your aunt's mercy was coming to an end more quickly than what you have expected.

"What is it?" You didn't even blinked an eye as you replied to the maid, one commotion down the plebe stands catching your attention as the sound of shouting voices started to reach your ears.

It seemed like a group of men harassing a lonely woman - well she looked a bit like an outcaster there, with everyone turning their eyes to the explicit violence against her.

"A guard's switch, my queen." Lamia approached your side.

What was making her so absorbed after all? The servant questioned herself, seeing nothing but a normal day at the polis.

"I think that, with a personal guard selected by yourself will bring you some peace, most nobles do this when they ascend to the throne" Lamia explained.

When the woman was brutally pushed by one of the five men, an young man appeared, he came running and as fast as he reached the group, he punched and even used a knife at some point. Almost slicing someone's throat.

He helped the woman to rise again, with some caution.

The two left, disappearing from your view.

I may need warriors like this one.

No...

I need this one.

He was ...

"I accept your suggestion, Lamia, can you organize everything so I can meet and choose them during the next week?"

"Of course my dear queen, I'll start it immediately." Lamia bowed, now questioning what could possibly have happened for the queen's complexion to light up. Nonetheless what has caused it she was glad for.

"And Lamia, make sure that they know about how generous the new queen is when it comes to payments."

"Yes, I'll be sure they hear about it" the servant bowed a second time and then left you, it didn't take too much time to another servant to come and replace her.

Your thoughts seemed to run more wildly as the day passed by.

The sudden attraction to the man made you question yourself, was it because he was the one who made you wake up from an aphatic state?

You weren't sure.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Zeus, in this case and in this form, Elias, was once again wandering drunkenly through the streets of the polis, enjoying the few pleasures that an old mortal could give himself and also maintaining his disguise.

He had overheard the conversation of one of the servants of the new queen, queen who was Demeter's and a mortal's daughter mortal which the goddess decided to deny the existence, handing her daughter over to a sterile human queen.

A demigod, just like his own son.

The two shared a strangely similar past, even when it came to traumatizing nights.

The disguised god walked back to his lover and son's home, the new queen's offer was too tempting for Heron to refuse, no matter how stubborn he could be. He had declined Alexia's offer, and perhaps the regret would make him choose right this time.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<

Lamia had organized everything just as the queen asked, her aunt did not hide the relief that you were leaving soon and wandered happily around the room in which the three of you were.

"The men in my polis make great guards, excellent warriors." the mourning for her brother had dissipated quickly, and it also increased your desire to leave that place, now the cloudy clouds seemed to worsen your mood.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

You were waiting for them inside a kind of canopy like bed, Lamia had murmured something about only the selected ones seeing your face. It was a strange security issue and the day was particularly hot making you hate the stupid idea even more. But there was something, making your afternoon a little more tolerable.

The chance of seeing him again.

A few remaining men from your old guard positioned themselves near the door and soon it was opened, the first candidate entering the room, an undoubtedly strong man, but it wasn't the one you're seeking to see.

Your frustration almost materialized right there, and a doubt arose, what made you believe that he would appear?

As you were selecting the most competent ones, or at least apparently competent, your hope of seeing him again was being drained as the hours passed by, soon you would have to leave the polis and perhaps you should have to accept the fact that you would not see him again.

Besides, as a new queen there would be more important things to deal with, and soon this sudden...

The door opened again, the last one to be chosen and you had to control yourself not to tear the canopy.

It was him.

You were silent for a while, observing every possible detail through the fine fabric, his frame but what has made you literally frozen were his eyes - a vibrant blue, as if the sky and the ocean were inside those irises.

"My queen?" A servant called, waking you from your almost trance.

You composed yourself. Continuing with the same questions I had repeated so many times earlier.

"Your name?"

"It's Heron."

"Well Heron, you must already know I'm not from this polis, even so, are you willing to work as one of my guards?"

Tension filled your brain, after all he could simply deny it, you remembered the woman he helped, could she possibly be a relative?

He stayed silent for some seconds, his face was doubt itself but soon with was replaced by calm and determination.

"Yes, I'm willing too." Heron replied.

"Great." your response didn't matched the sheer happiness that you were feeling. You proceeded with the other questions about what weapon could he wield, combat experience...

You weren't really listening to Heron's answers, still mesmerized simply by seeing him close enough, even so, you managed to inform him that you all would be departing soon and he should prepare for doing so.

"You can go now."

He left the room and so did you, watching from a safe distance as he kept walking down the aisle, there was definitely something different about him.

Something that seemed weirdly familiar to you.

What was it?

#Heron #Blood of zeus

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

Text

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Eight: The One With the Party

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3083

Now, nothing in Lily's life ever really came easy, quick, or without some sort of repercussion. It was as though the universe had decided that she hadn't been through enough in her fairly young life already. Hence why it didn't surprise her when the communication between her and Bucky fell off, or more so, never really started. The day at the cafe had been nice, they didn't exactly speak and they were at separate tables, but even Rose noticed the shy glances her older sister would send to the man across the way. Which of course lead to teasing and taunting the rest of the night and for a few days.

Three weeks later, she hadn't seen him. It didn't help that the hospital had scheduled Lily for multiple shifts of overtime and staying late. Which resulted in Hunter spending extra days at Scott’s, and Lily not being at the cafe as often as she typically was. Flu season had come around and all parents believed their kid may have something more serious, but it was simply a lot of flu vaccinations, the odd time an appendicitis surgery. Routine procedures, just a lot of work.

On a chilly day at the end of September, for once, Lily could wake up without having to go to work for twelve hours or more. Her son snoring gently beside her after crawling into her bed from a nightmare the night before, and Joey snuggled at the end. Her deep green eyes fluttered open as the phone on her nightstand buzzed like crazy. Rubbing her eyes, Lily's other hand reached out to grab hold of the device, blurry eyes seeing Bucky's contact pop up on the screen.

With a groggy voice and a confused expression, Lily slid her thumb across the screen to answer, "Hello?"

"Lady Lily! It's Thor! Son of Odin!" a booming voice yelled into the phone, startling the young blonde. Her eyes glanced to her right to check to see that Hunter still laid fast asleep, and to ensure it stayed that way, the doctor slipped out of the bed and out into the hallway. When she closed the door, Thor continued his yelling, "I have stolen sergeant Barnes’s cellular device! I have overheard him and Captain Rogers discussing his feelings towards you!"

Lily winced at the loud voice radiating through her ear. She hadn't met Thor officially, just seen him with the others at the table weeks before. Personally, Lily wasn't interested in blondes, but no one could deny an attraction to the god. You could be the largest lesbian in the world and still would not mind getting down and dirty with the son of Odin. But of course, for the most part, Lily had only been staring at Bucky. And it didn't go unnoticed to many, especially the other Avengers

"I'm sorry? His attraction?" Lily muttered, still attempting to wake herself up from the much-needed sleep she had been woken up from. She wrapped one arm around herself while resting the other elbow on her hand, shivering slightly at the cool temperature of her home.

"Yes! This is lady Lily correct? If so, then I have an invitation for you! Sergeant Barnes does not know about this, nor does anyone else. But it is our dear friend Sam Wilson’s birthday!" he continued to boast, resulting in Lily holding the phone an inch or so away from her ear, "and I believe it would make Sergeant Barnes happy if you came. And bring your friend and sister! Sam has a small thing for lady Rose."

Before Lily could even answer, there was a crash on the other end of the line and the call went dead. Lily could only assume that Bucky had noticed the conversation taking place and shut it down, leaving Lily with a possibly life-changing decision on her plate, but she didn't know that yet. All she knew, was that Gen and Rose would go to any lengths to get Lily to attend the party, saying things like 'it'll be good for you' or 'you can see your loverboy again'. And Lily couldn't deny, she'd love to see Bucky again. But she'd be damned if she admitted it out loud.

-----

After walking joey, the three Osborne’s loaded into the car and drove down the busy roads of New York to Gen's cafe. Scott was picking Hunter up for the weekend, which meant that Lily was free for the night anyway, so maybe the party wasn't such a bad idea? But if you could deduce anything about the blonde, it's that she hated large gatherings and commotion. It made her anxious and paranoid about something that could go wrong. Plus, last time there was any real party like this in her life, she had been shown a video of her husband locking lips with a young brunette who looked about half his age.

"Hunt why don't you go see if there are any treats you can bring for Leila in the back," Lily whispered to her son with a gentle smirk on her face, "I have to talk to aunt Rose and auntie Gen for a few minutes." she continued, ruffling the boy’s hair and sending him on his way to the kitchen around the corner.

The two girls that were sitting opposite of Lily looked at her with matching skeptical expressions, both of their left eyebrows perked with interest as Lily sent her son away. Whenever this happened, Lily usually seemed to drop a ball on the two. Whether it was when she announced her pregnancy, being chosen as valedictorian, or when she shared the news of her divorce. Typically things that Hunter wouldn't understand, or wasn't old enough to know or mature enough to hear. But this was mostly so he didn't grow saddened at the idea of his mother hanging around his idols.

"So I was woken up by a strange phone call from Bucky Barnes," Lily began, and the two girls across from her simultaneously dropped their jaws. Lily held her finger up to signal that she wasn't finished with her story and for them not to jump ahead and get crazy ideas, "but on the other end was actually Thor. He invited us to Sam's birthday party tonight."

This caused shit-eating grins to replace the curious smiles on Gen and Rose's faces. Rose clapped her hands together, while Gen just shook her head in disbelief. These two women were Lily's closest companions in life. Rose was her biological sister that she had no choice but to deal with, sure, but their relationship was more than that. It was deeper and held more meaning than a simple sister relationship. They could lean on each other in times of need and never kept secrets, as far as the other knew. Most kids with multiple years between them aren't as close or never really bond, but Rose and Lily always clicked. Mostly because of their opposing personalities, which was the same as Gen. Gen was Lily's sister from another mister. From the moment they met, they were perfect, and things hadn't changed in all those years leading to this.

"Well, obviously we're going!" Rose exclaimed, pulling out her phone, "I will get the best dresses from my agency and ensure we look unclockable!" the younger Osborne sister beamed while excusing herself to make a few calls, to make sure they looked as good as she pictured. Rose seemed to forget that Lily hadn't agreed to go, but deep down, the eldest Osborne knew she didn't ave a choice.

"This is great! It'll give you a chance to see Bucky again," Gen winked, sipping her coffee. This was typically how the cycle of Gen's setups began, sort of. Lily would stumble across a guy that seemed interested in her, and Gen would stop at no end to get the two on a date. Of course, Lily never really seemed to have any interest in the guy that her best friend set her up with, but maybe this time was different. Maybe Bucky was different. And that's what Gen prayed about as well, "Maybe get to know him a little more. You get chatty when you're tipsy."

Lily Osborne drunk was a sight to see. All of the fear and anxiety she felt seemed to melt away with the ice cubes in her cup. That's why it was called liquid courage. One of the main signs of Lily being intoxicated was her desire to sing. for years, Lily sang in the choir, but always turned down solos, despite being one of the most talented singers that her school had ever seen. She was terrified that people would laugh at her, but if she was home alone, she sang like an angel. Her voice was soft and supple, and her ability to harmonize was unrivalled. Both Gen and Rose secretly hoped that the avengers would be able to be blessed with the sound of Lily's voice because it truly was as angelic as she was.

"I don't know if I even want to go. You know I don't do parties, let alone one hosted by the king of parties himself, Tony Stark." Lily sighed, twisting the straw in her lemonade around as she nibbled on her bottom lip. Her eyes glanced up to see Rose beaming out the window of the cafe, saying something to a designer or somebody on her phone. She looked so excited, and Lily didn't want to be the one to take that away.

Not after the past few weeks, Rose has had.

"C'mon, Lil," Gen sighed as if reading her best friend’s mind. the brunette reached her hands out and cupped Lily's frail and nimble ones, a soft and gentle look on her face, "Rose is excited. For the first time in weeks. Plus, nothing will happen. I'll be there, and so will Rose. Plus, I doubt Mr. Winter Soldier would ever let anything happen to you anyways. Buddies totally whipped."

"Mr. Winter Soldier? really?"

-----

After Scott had scooped Hunter up from the cafe, Lily stole the two adult women away from whatever they were doing, leading them to the car. But, Lily apparently wasn't allowed to drive. It was around two now, and Lily had to get back home to take joey out on his afternoon walk. But no matter the protests she gave, the younger sister was the one behind the wheel and had control over where they went either way. Lily accepted her fate and leaned back in her seat, attempting to figure out where Rose was have taking them.

Recognizing upstate new york, Lily glanced over towards the blonde that sat next to her. The young mom had figured out exactly what Rose was planning in that mischievous head of hers. One thing with all Osborne’s is their ability to not only think on their feet but figure out what was happening around them without anyone telling them. the art of deduction, in a way. But not that advanced, just piecing together their surroundings and doing the math. And with where they were, Lily knew that Rose had the genius idea to take the two other girls to a hair salon to get all nice and done up.

"Yeah no, I can do my hair," Lily stated, crossing her arms over her chest and putting her foot down. No way in hell was she letting another person that she didn't know, do her hair. She had a perfectly good hairdresser down in the suburbs of Manhattan and was fine with just going there for when she needed a haircut. And today? She did not.

"Let me check again...Gen?" Rose swivelled in her seat to look at the back where Gen sat, attempting to hold back a laugh, "Which one of us is the doctor and which one is the stylist?"

This caused Gen to let her giggles escape as she rested her velvety hand on Lily's shoulder, leaning forward towards her best friend, "Rose makes a fair point. You specialize in children's health, she specializes in adult fashion. C'mon, it'll be fun."

Once again, despite her protests, Lily was overpowered and dragged into the salon. The moment she was asked what style she was looking for, she answered, beating out her younger sister in deciding what would look best. She requested a simple hairstyle, possibly a ponytail of sorts. The hairdresser nodded along and got to work. Luckily, no hair was cut off or changed, and it was a simple styling appointment for her and the other girls.

Half an hour later, the three were back in the car, this time, with Lily behind the wheel. The three sang along to the radio as they returned to lower Manhattan, where the suburbs laid. Lily had managed to convince Rose to do her makeup instead of a hire professional, claiming Rose had the same talents as they did. It was true, Rose was a wizard with a makeup brush. Plus, it was fun to see her sister so focused on something like this. All of the pain of the past few weeks forgotten as she created a beige smokey eye on Lily, an a darker version of the same thing on Gen.

After she glanced in the mirror, Lily didn't believe it was her. She looked matured and awake, instead of the typical baby-faced ball of stress she was on a day-to-day basis. She stared into the mirror with a shocked yet elated look on her face, enjoying the feeling of confidence that rushed through her. She was Lily Osborne, full-time doctor and mother, older sister to two siblings, and a survivor of a toxic relationship. But it seemed that all of that confidence shattered when Rose pulled in a rack of dresses for Lily to try on. All tight around the hips and bust, made for girls with hourglass figures who hadn't given birth to a baby. Something that Lily wouldn't be caught dead in.

"Not happening. I refuse."

-----

Compromise. that's the lesson of this section. Taking other’s options or opinions and your own, and finding a common ground. That was the foundation of Rose and Lily's relationship. Learning to compromise with each other to keep the peace. And that was the result of their dispute of the dresses Rose had brought in. Most of them were sleek and tight, almost like a second skin. And as pretty as Lily felt all done up, she didn't have near enough confidence to rock one of the body-con dresses her sister had brought.

In the end, she decided on something a bit more classic and Lily-like. A lake blue dress with spaghetti straps holding it up. It had silver lace decals spread all across both the lower plunging neckline and a-line tulle skirt that hit just below Lily's mid thigh. A piece of mesh fabric kept the cleavage that Lily had tucked in, instead of placing it on display like the majority of the cocktail dresses Rose had brought in. The deeper blue helped extenuate the green of Lily's eyes, which was complemented by the light golden shimmer that laid atop of her eyelid. Her lips were a pink nude with a touch of gloss to create a shiny effect, and her hair was pulled into a pony connected by two criss-cross pieces of hair, with two strands falling forward to frame her face. One word to sum it all up, breathtaking. Lily radiated in her outfit, and anyone who saw her would have no choice but to agree. And if they didn't? They were either delusional or lying to themselves because she was stunning.

Rose, on the other hand, was embracing the small window of time she had left without showing the baby bump. She adorned a burgundy lace dress that hugged her curves like a glove and came to a halter top point around her neck. Her golden blonde hair laid across her shoulders in a curly river, with deep red lips to compliment the dress. Her eyes were done a bit darker than both Lily and Gen's, making her forest green eyes stand out as well. Rose and Lily were blessed with the looks of their mother. High cheekbones, plump lips and a perfectly sculpted nose that tends to make most jealous. Although Rose knew her worth and understood her beauty, Lily had a harder time coming to terms with it due to the anxiety that plagued her mind. It created a constant reminder that she just wasn't enough, and to try harder.

Gen stayed true to her out-of-the-box aesthetic and wore a suit jacket dress that reached her mid-thigh, with a pair of bright yellow pumps to create a splash of colour in her outfit. Her braids were pulled into a high ponytail, and a darker smokey eye created a glowing ring around the amber eyes that she was blessed with. Her plush and plump lips were painted a deep maroon, and she looked like a businesswoman who had men falling at her feet. When in reality, she was the most easy-going and relaxed person you would probably ever meet, and would rather die than ever be stuck behind a desk at a corporate job.

The three ladies corralled themselves into Lily's car and began their journey towards the avengers compound a bit before the event started. Rose had instructed Lily to leave at a time that would make them fashionably late, to keep Thor guessing whether or not his invitation was accepted or not. Plus it built up the suspicion of the others around the man. Somehow Rose knew all of this, and Lily guessed it was because of her extensive work in the fashion industry. Having to tell people what will make them look their absolute best. Both fashionably, and socially. And who was Lily to argue?

When they did arrive, Lily let out a shaky breath before turning off the car. There was no turning back now. They had drove all of this way, and Lily knew Rose and Gen would be pissed if she chickened out now. Plus, she doubted that they would even let her. Honestly, the two would drag her in by her toes if they had to. Out of Lily's best interest of course. They wanted her to move on and live her life outside of work and Hunter.

"Come on Lil, let's go get the tinman to fall in love with you."

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alexhogh7137 · 3 years

Text

Rule The World with Me-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Forty-Three

Chaptet Forty-Four: A Long Day in Kiev

Word Count 4k

Warnings: some angst, some fluff

On this day, Torvi told you that she would speak with Ubbe about rethinking the siege of Wessex. You made sure to keep yours and her children very busy while her and Ubbe went out on a walk to talk. At first, you were going to be the one to tell him but Torvi insisted on being the one to tell him. Hvitserk kept Ivar busy while you handled the children. You did not mind it, however, you love being a mother. You feared not being able to become a mother while you were married to Oleg. With the way he used you, abused you, you thought that the possibility was nonexistent. But when you discovered that you were carrying Baldur, your dreams had come true. And then Freya came along and well, you and Ivar are in your own little slice of paradise. They are at the age of training to be warriors one day and Hvitserk has taken the pleasure in training Baldur while you are training Freya. When Ivar has time, he teaches Baldur how to strike and shoot arrows at his opponent. Baldur is learning very fast, but Freya gets distracted fairly easily. You have talked with Ivar and he says that his brother Ubbe Sigurd was the same way at her age, but he became a strong warrior later in life. So every day, you train her and everyday she gets better and better at keeping her focus. Besides the point, you have the kids while the boys are handling their own challenges.

Freya is dancing in the treeline with Asena while Baldur walks with you hand in hand. Even though he acts so mature for his age, he still loves to hold your hand, cuddle, hugs and kisses. Freya is a mommy's girl, that is what Ivar has told you since she was born. You have this little joke with her to make her father a little extra jealous: when Ivar is 'hogging' Baldur, Freya will climb on your lap and let you tickle her so that she laughs extra loud, making Ivar extra jealous of yours and her relationship. Ivar loves his children equally, but his fear that his children do not love him the same as they love you, is one of his fears. So when you notice that he is more down than usual, you have to reassure him. You do not know why you are having all of these thoughts right now, but you are just glad that it is not about the siege.

Freya "Look momma, apples!' She points up at an apple tree.

"Oh my! Would you look at that, I have not seen an apple tree in years."

Baldur "Can we pick some, mother?!"

Freya "We can give some to Papa!" She stammers.

"Oh that sounds like a lovely idea! Come here, little one." You pick your daughter up and you raise her high enough for her to grab a few apples from the tree branches. You and her giggles as she grabs more and more.

You place Freya down, "Baldur, would you like to pick some?"

Baldur "Yes!" You pick him up and let him grab as much as he can carry before you place him back down on the ground.

"They look delicious, your father will be delighted to eat these." You say as you take a bite of one. "Mm, fresh and delightful."

Baldur "Can I give one to Messiah? He looks hungry." You look down at Messiah, who is licking his lips and staring at the apple in your son's hand.

"I'm sure that one apple couldn't hurt, go ahead." You allow Freya to give Asena one as well. "Do you think that aunt Torvi and your uncle's would like some?"

Baldur "Oh certainly!" You can't help but giggle at his choice of vocabulary. He gets his big words from the boys, that is for sure.

"Okay, let's head back now. I am sure your father could use some company from his favorite little one's."

Baldur "Are you always going to call me little?" He says with a pout.

"No, not always. But no matter how old you get and how tall you get to be when you are all grown up, I am still going to see you as a baby."

Baldur "But why?"

"You were my first born, Baldur. You were my first baby! And same with your sister, I will always see her as a baby because you two are my babies."

Baldur "Even when I am fighting..you will see me that way?"

"I will see you as the strong and courageous warrior that you will be but yes."

Baldur "And Freya?"

"Of course. Your father will say the same thing, Baldur. You and your sister are our world."

Baldur "I love you mother."

"And I love you, son." He runs off then, after his sister. You watch them run hand in hand together, through the grasslands with their protectors and you can't stop yourself from smiling. You watch your legacy laugh and skip in front of your eyes and all you can say to yourself is; "thank you gods..thank you."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Ivar has been spending the morning with Hvitserk. Hvitserk had told you that he would keep Ivar busy while you watched over the kids because if Ivar got involved in the discussion with Ubbe, it would not end well. So he did just that, stayed with Ivar all morning and half of the afternoon just talking to him.

Ivar "What is taking them so long?"

Hvitserk "Who?"

Ivar "Y/n and the kids. They've been gone all morning."

Hvitserk "She told you where she took them, yes?"

Ivar "Yes..of course she did."

Hvitserk "Then why worry, aye?"

Ivar "Because I cannot stop myself from worrying Hvitserk. They are my everything."

Hvitserk "They are my everything too, brother. But you get free time away from home, so does she."

Ivar "Well what about our brother, hmm? What are your thoughts about her vision?"

Hvitserk "I believe every word that she said. I fear that if he goes along with this siege, we won't have the same brother afterwards."

Ivar nods, "That is what I fear as well. Not only that but Y/n would be fighting with us."

Hvitserk "I know-"

Ivar "And the kids, who would watch them?"

Hvitserk "Torvi..if she does not fight."

Ivar snickers, "She will fight."

Hvitserk "Then we would have to take the kids back to Kattegat. We have more men there to watch over them and keep them safe while we are gone."

Ivar puts his head in his palms, "What if something happens to one of us..or all of us?"

Hvitserk "Y/n said that we were all in her vision."

Ivar "Yes but visions are not always exact. We both know that."

Hvitserk sighs and takes a bite of his food, "Everyone takes that risk of not making it through a battle, brother."

Ivar "I know that, but this is our family that we are talking about. My wife, your sister..our brother-"

Hvitserk "I know, I know."

Ivar "If Torvi does not get him to stop this siege, I will."

Hvitserk "And how exactly would you do that, hmm?"

Ivar thinks for a second, "Talk to him, try to reason with him. Tell him what all is at stake here."

Hvitserk "We both know that if Ubbe wants to fight, there is nothing that we can do to stop him."

Ivar "If I can't stop him, I can stop my wife from fighting."

Hvitserk "If you are fighting, then Y/n will fight-"

Ivar "I am not fighting. I have too much to lose."

Hvitserk nods, "Then why worry any longer, my brother?"

Ivar "Are you fighting?"

Hvitserk "I have not made up my mind as of yet. I love our brother, he deserves someone to fight alongside him on that battlefield."

Ivar "So if he goes, you go?"

Hvitserk looks down, "I don't really have a choice Ivar. I left his side once..I have abandoned him once, I won't do it again."

Ivar "I don-"

Freya "Daddy!" She shouted as she jumped onto her father's lap while Baldur clung to Hvitserk's side.

Ivar "Oh my sweets," he kisses her cheek, "Where is your mother, huh?"

Baldur "She told us to go ahead. She should be in any minute.."

Hvitserk "Ah, where have you guys been aye?"

"We were in the field." You say entering the room, out of breath.

Ivar "There you are, what happened?"

"I will tell you later..we brought back a sweet gift for our boys, didn't we?"

Baldur "You are going to love it!"

Hvitserk "Oh yeah?"

Ivar "What is it?" You pull the basket of apples from behind your back and Hvitserk's jaw drops.

Hvitserk "My favorite!" He says as he takes one from you.

Ivar "That is so sweet of you, my love. Thank you." You walk over to him and kiss his lips before handing him an apple.

"What did I interrupt in here?" Ivar looks at Hvitserk before answering you.

Ivar "We were just talking about all of the things we could do this evening."

Baldur "Like what?"

Hvitserk "We can have a nice bonfire by the pit!" He said before Ivar could.

Freya "Oh yay!" She shouted and started clapping. You notice that your husband did not laugh nor giggle even though his daughter started jumping for joy. Alarming you that he was not telling the truth but lied for the children's sake.

"Well I think that that sounds like an amazing idea."

Ivar nods, "Hey, could you take your sister and go find uncle Ubbe for me please?"

Baldur "Yes, come on Freya."

"They are by the east entrance." He nods and runs off with his sister joint at his hip. You wait for them to close the door behind them before you sit down next to your husband.

"I overheard them, Ivar."

Ivar "W-what did you hear?" You hesitate to answer because you are saddened by what you overheard.

~•~

When you got to the east side of your kingdom, you could hear Torvi's voice. You immediately stop in your tracks. You tell Baldur and Freya to go on without you and that you would be in in a moment, so they agreed. You hide in the treeline to avoid them seeing you listening in on their conversation.

Torvi "You could hear the fear in her voice, Ubbe. Why are you not listening-"

Ubbe "I am listening Torvi. I heard what you said."

Torvi "And yet you are not taking it seriously-"

Ubbe "No, I guess I am not."

Torvi "Why?!"

Ubbe "If it were true, why has she not told me herself?"

Torvi "She wished to do so, but sinc you are my husband, I insisted that I be the one to tell you."

Ubbe sighs, "What is it that you want me to do?"

Torvi "Don't fight. We have Kattegat, isn't that enough?"

Ubbe "I rule Kattegat but not alone. Hvitserk is also the ruler of Kattegat. I wish to rule my own kingdom."

Torvi "So you will not reconsider.."

Ubbe "I will rule Wessex, Torvi. With you by my side. Isn't that what you want?"

Torvi "I don't wish to lose my beloved husband over a kingdom that is already being ruled. I heard Y/n, I heard her voice break as she told me her vision. So no, I do not want you to fight."

Ubbe clears his throat as if he was aggravated, "I am going to talk to Y/n myself. If I do, maybe I will reconsider. But as of right now, my mind is set."

Torvi's eyes start to water, "I see." He walks closer to her and cups her cheeks.

Ubbe "I love you. You are my world. But I have ambitions, as every viking does. I hope that you can understand."

Torvi "I love you too." Ubbe starts to walk towards you so you make a run for it and go into your kingdom.

~•~

Ivar grunts, "Why is our brother so stubborn?"

Hvitserk "All of us are stubborn, Ivar. Not just Ubbe."

Ivar "Well it looks like I have to talk to him."

"He wants to talk to me Ivar. I can persuade him to not fight, I am sure of it."

Ivar "You can talk to him, my love. But I am going to talk to him..I have to. I can't lose any one. I can't lose anyone else." He looks at his brother when he said that. He lost his two brothers and his parents, he does not wish to lose anyone else that he loves.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

When you hear the pitter patter of your childrens feet and the laughter of Torvi, your heart rate skyrocketed. You fear that even after he talks with you, that he still won't change his mind.

Baldur "We found him!"

Ubbe "I have arrived!"

Ivar "Thank you, son. Why don't you go play with Igor?"

Freya "Oh can we Baldur?!"

Baldur "Alright then." They walk off and Ubbe stands in front of you.

Ubbe "Can we talk?"

"Of course."

Ivar "I would like to talk to you afterwards, brother."

Ubbe "That might not be necessary-"

Ivar "I wasn't asking."

Ubbe "Alright fine, but I am taking your wife first." He takes your arm, making you laugh. Torvi stays with Hvitserk and Ivar while Ubbe takes you outside.

You two sit down on a bench near some flowers.

Ubbe "So, Torvi has told me."

"About my-"

Ubbe "Vision..yeah."

"And what do you have to say?"

Ubbe "Is it true?"

"Of course it is true."

Ubbe "Then tell me..talk to me."

"You change. You are not you anymore.."

Ubbe "That is not talking to me Y/n-"

"I am trying to talk to you, it is just very hard for me to tell you this Ubbe. You are my brother and I love you."

Ubbe "And I love you, but you need to tell me what you know." You take a deep breath and tell him absolutely everything: every detail, every word said, even the surroundings. When you were done telling him, he was speechless.

"Now do you believe me?"

Ubbe "I never not believed you, Y/n."

"So what now?"

Ubbe "I am not sure."

"You are still considering it?"

Ubbe "I have ambitions-"

"And what happened to your family? Huh..what about them?"

Ubbe "They will join me."

"Not if you are dead!"

Ubbe "From your vision, I do not die."

"Visions do not show everything Ubbe. Why are you not reconsidering?"

Ubbe "I have to think, Y/n. This is my future I have to think about."

"What happens to their future?" He looks behind him to see Torvi, his step daughter and his son in her arms. His heart breaks in his chest. What is he thinking? How could he take such a risk?

Ubbe "You are right Y/n. I..I don't know what came over me." You don't really know how to respond. "Can you forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive. I am only looking out for you. I do not wish for you to have that fate. Because if you do this, you could gain a kingdom, but you could lose everyone that you ever loved." And that is all he had to hear.

Ubbe "You are right. Thank you for telling me."

"Of cour-"

Ubbe "But I have to ask..why did you hide it from me for so long?"

"I was going to tell you sooner but I told Torvi first-"

Ubbe "And why is that?"

"She noticed how quiet I have been recently. So she pulled me aside and I told her." He nods, "I told her that I was going to tell you but she wished to be the one to tell you herself."

Ubbe "Alright, I understand. Go be with your children now." He pulls you in for a hug and then he lets you go. He thinks to himself, "What do I do now?"

~•~

You go inside to see Ivar playing with yours and his children. Freya is on his shoulders while Baldur cackling him.

"Baldur, don't-"

Ivar "He is fine, my love. I promise, he isn't hurting me." You breathe for what felt like th first time in hours.

Freya "Mommy, Daddy ate all the apples!"

"He did!?"

Ivar "I kind of did.." you burst out laughing and so does he. "They were so delicious, I couldn't help myself."

"I'll go get some more for Hvitserk-"

Ivar "That can wait until tomorrow, please stay."

"Say no more." You kiss him over and over, until you hear your kids shout 'ew'.

Ivar "You know, one day you two will be married to your own lover and you will be doing to the same thing your mother and I do."

Freya "Yuck!"

Baldur "I'm excited!"

"Oh are you?" You giggle.

Baldur "Oh yes! Seeing how happy you are with father, makes me look forward to what the gods have planned for me." You are in shock by the words your son just spoke. He isn't even a teenager yet and he speaks like he is a thirty year old man.

Ivar "Your mother makes me very happy, son. But your mother had to go through very rough times before she met me."

Baldur "Like what?"

"I will tell you when you are older, my son."

Baldur "But why not now?"

"Because what I went through before I met your father is not age appropriate."

Baldur "Oh.."

"But I can say that I was not in a good marriage. I was married into this kingdom, not by my own will. My husband was Igor's Uncle-"

Freya "No way!"

"Mmhhmm..And he was not a good man. But after a few years, your father came into my life and saved me."

Freya "Daddy, the hero!"

Ivar chuckles, "I am glad to be your hero, my love." You smile at him.

Baldur "Will I ever find love like yours and mother's, father?" He says with a pout. Ivar takes Freya from his shoulders and hands her to you so that he could get down to Baldur's level.

Ivar "There is no doubt in my mind, son. You will find love one day that will sweep you off your feet and make you realize how amazing life is it live. You see son, life isn't just about winning and losing battles. It is about establishing yourself and finding love along the way."

Baldur "Did you love someone before mother?"

Ivar "I did, for a time. But I fell out of love with her, and then I found your mother-"

Ubbe "Look at you four.." Ivar looks up to find him and Torvi standing in the doorway. He forces a smile and gets himself off of the floor.

Ivar "Hello, Ubbe."

Hvitserk "Y/n, can you show me where you got those apple's from? Ivar ate them all.."

"Sure." You laugh and you walk out with him to give Ivar and Ubbe some time to talk.

Ubbe "What is it that you wanted to talk to me about, brother?"

Ivar "I can't let you fight, Ubbe. Too much is at stake."

Ubbe "I have reconsidered the siege but I have yet to make my final decision."

Ivar "After everything that you have heard, from Torvi and from Y/n..you can't say you won't?"

Ubbe "No, I won't say that. I deserve time to think. You have Kiev-"

Ivar "And you have Kattegat!"

Ubbe "Not to myself Ivar. That is not my own kingdom. I wish to have my own kingdom, does not every viking dream of that life?"

Ivar "I think that you are being greedy."

Ubbe "Greedy?"

Ivar "Yes," Ubbe chuckles, "Because look at what you have! You have Kattegat, you have a wife and children.. why is that not enough for you huh?"

Ubbe "It is enough-"

Ivar "Then stay." Ubbe walks away from his brother and Torvi. Ivar looks at her, speechless.

Torvi "Give him time, okay? That is all that we can do right now, is give him time."

Ivar "I can't lose anyone else-"

Torvi "Neither can I, Ivar. Neither can I." She walks away to go after her husband, leaving Ivar with his thoughts. All he can do is pray to Odin that his brother does not go through with this siege.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Nightfall came over Kiev and even though Hvitserk was telling you a fib, you all still came together to have a bonfire by the pit. Freya sat on her Uncle's lap and Baldur sat on his father's lap while Torvi and Ubbe held onto their own children. The warmth hit your skin, soothing your aching muscles from lifting your kids up and into a tree earlier today.

Ivar "My love.."

"Mmm?"

Ivar "You are quiet.. you are never quiet."

"I am never quiet?"

Ivar "Not very often," you two giggle, "what is it, my sweetheart?"

"I am just relaxing. I have not relaxed all day. I am pretty sore-"

Ivar "You are in pain?" His eyes got wide.

"Only my arms and legs, my love. I am fine-"

Ivar "Why are you in pain?"

"Our children wanted to pick their own apples today so I had to lift them up to reach them. That is most likely why. And my legs, well, that is because we were in the grasslands for hours and hours."

Ivar "Oh my sweet, come here." He offers his arm, inviting you to lean on him. Of course you do just that. "Rest now, my love. And tonight, I will give you a message..how does that sound huh?"

"Or we can just take a warm bath together-"

Ivar "Your plan sounds better." He smirks and you blush.

Baldur "Fatherrr!" Ivar ruffles his hair, making the three of you laugh.

Hvitserk whispers into Freya's ear, "Look at those lovebirds, aye?"

Freya "They always like dis.."

Hvitserk "Well that is good, little one. One day, you and your brother will be with someone who makes you just as happy as your parents make each other happy."

Freya "That is was Daddy said earlier!"

Hvitserk "You see! If your father says it, then it is absolutely true." He tickles her sides, making her bolt out with laughter.

Ubbe "Are you tickling my niece?!"

Hvitserk "I am tickling my god daughter..yes!" Ubbe laughs and takes a drink of his ale.

You pucker your lips so Baldur reaches over and kisses you. After he does, you lean back down and into Ivar's arms and took in this incredible moment in time. Your family sitting around the pit, with your people's laughter in the background, your children's laughter and your wolves playing just beside you. Everything about tonight has been perfect, making you feel a little extra grateful.

@hvitserkmarcosource @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @a-mess-of-fandoms @heavenly1927 @saldelys @conaionaru @krissydclayton93 @readsalot73

#rule the world with me #alex hogh andersen #vikings #hvitserk #ivar the boneless #marco ilsø #ubbe lothbrok #hvitserk lothbrok #torvi vikings

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Field of Poppies Part 9

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 9: The subject of family is very fragmented in the Shelby household, but it doesn’t mean it can’t be repaired and maintained.

“There he is, grown-up and responsible Tommy. A family man now, aye?” Barney Thompson grabbed Tommy the second he came into the betting shop and put him in a headlock to rile him up. “You ain’t gonna be fun, anymore are ya, Tom?”

“We’ll have Mel walking up and down the streets of Birmingham all hours of the night looking for him.” Danny laughed. “She’ll drag him home by the ear.”

Tommy shoved Barney off and punched him in the arm.

“Eh, Barney’s just jealous ‘cause he could never get a girl to even look his way.” Arthur used the newspaper in his hand to smack the young man.

“How do the numbers look today?” Tommy asked, leaning over to glance at the ledgers.

“Going well, Greta’s outside waiting for you though. I told her you’d be down soon.” His brother answered.

He frowned. “Did she say what it was about?”

Arthur just shrugged.

Curious, Tommy stepped outside of the shop where Greta Jurossi was waiting for him. She looked up at him with a polite smile.

“I heard your son was born last week.”

Tommy nodded. Despite the inconsistent timelines, it was generally accepted by everyone except close family and friends that Tommy was the biological father of Max. It made things easier and, in a way, it drew attention from Amelia’s past. He wanted to protect her from any ruthless comments, like the ones she got from her parents in London. If he had to take the heat for having a child out of wedlock, then he would do that. But he had a feeling that people in Birmingham were wise enough to know not to bring it up.

“What did you name him?”

“Max,” Tommy answered. “After a friend of Amelia’s.”

“Such a cute name.” She glanced down at the paper in her hand. “Well, I hate to bother you, I know you’re probably busy with him and everything else.” She unfolded the newspaper and handed it to him.

“What is this?”

“Information about the revolution that’s going to happen in Russia. They want to overthrow the monarchy, let the government be run by the people, for the people.”

Tommy wasn’t overly optimistic, even in his younger years. He’d seen enough hardship to know that the world wasn’t fair. “Is that so?” He took the paper from her. It appeared to be somewhat of an organization’s print instead of a national newspaper. He scanned the first few lines. “And you think they’ll be able to pull it off.”

“They have the people’s support.” Greta shrugged. “I suppose it’s a bit what we’re looking for, isn’t it?”

He glanced up at her. “We’re looking for better working conditions and labor laws.” He reminded her as if she’d forgotten what she’d dedicated so much time and effort toward.

“And that can be accomplished by allowing the people to decide what’s best. Not those who are wealthy who’ve never worked a day in the factories. Who’ve never lived in the slums.”

He nodded. It made sense. His sense of justice and integrity was all for it. “What can I do?” He asked.

“You’re causing a stir in Birmingham.” She noted. “Everyone’s talking about the betting shop and the caps. The name’s caught on, by the way. The Peaky Blinders.”

“Are they afraid of us?” Tommy folded up the paper to hand back to her.

“No. At least, not the people here who need you. I think they’re sick of waiting for the Commons to make things better. They see you as a man of the people. They want you to succeed. Don’t you see, Tom? You’re the right person to make this happen. You have the skills to gain influence.”

A soft wailing sound from an open window upstairs carried down to the street. Tommy felt conflicted. He had tried to assure Amelia that he would make things better for everyone. If he gained influence and power was he better than any of the men sitting in the Commons? Would that give his son a better life?

“I’ll be at the next meeting.” He promised her. “I’ll let you know what I think.”

She smiled hopefully. “Thanks, Tommy. And good luck with the baby.” She stepped back from the betting shop. As she went to walk away, she coughed into a handkerchief.

~~~~~~~~~

Tommy returned to the betting shop and found Amelia had come downstairs. Arthur was holding Max looking like a proud uncle. The baby boy had stopped crying and looked content in his arms. It made sense. Arthur had basically raised all of his siblings.

Amelia had a smile on her face but it looked partly forced. When she saw Tommy walk in, it faded slightly. Tommy was worried she had overheard his conversation with Greta.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” She asked.

“Uh…sure.” Tommy ignored the snickering from the rest of the men as he followed Amelia into the kitchen. He closed the curtain shut. “You trust them with Max?”

“You don’t?”

Tommy shrugged and sat down at the table. “They can be thick.”

Amelia didn’t respond. “Were you ever going to tell me Polly had children? Or that they were taken away?” She asked in a hushed voice.

He grimaced. The topic was a particularly sore one in the family. Polly refused to talk about it and would not listen to anyone talk about it. Even though it was unresolved, it was best to not speak about it. “She told you?”

“No, a neighbor told me while I was out walking with Max.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why wouldn’t she tell me? Why wouldn’t anyone tell me?”

“Because no one in the house talks about it, Mel.” He ran a hand over his face. “It happened just last year. Michael was born the year you left. Anna was born a year later.” He explained.

Amelia’s brow was wrinkled with worry. “What happened?”

“The police took them. They had no fucking reason; Polly was a great mother. They just targeted her because we’re gypsies.”

She slowly sat down next to him; a bit taken aback by the story.

“They said she could get them back. We’ve tried everything. They won’t tell us where they are, where they were brought. One police officer even said there was no record of them anywhere.”

“If I had known. I should-”

Tommy shook his head. “Don’t mention any of it to Pol. She can’t handle it. She copes by not speaking about it.”

Amelia chewed on her lip. She couldn’t imagine raising Max for a couple of years only to have him ripped away from her.

And it seemed like Tommy could see that fear in her eyes. “It’s not going to happen again.” He promised her, gently taking her hand in his. “No one will ever take Max from us. And I’m going to bring Michael and Anna back home.”

She nodded, too concerned to speak. She just leaned forward to let Tommy kiss her knuckles and pull her into his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re doing so well with him.”

On the first snow of the winter, Polly and Tommy were up early, sitting together in the kitchen. Max was in Tommy’s arms, having woken up the whole house at the crack of dawn. Everyone else had grumbled, turned over and shoved a pillow over their heads to block out the noise.

But Tommy was up to grab his month-old-son. Max nursed while Amelia was half awake, leaning against the headboard. Meanwhile, Tommy got dressed in the small space and took his son after Amelia was finished. The new mother went right back to sleep, too exhausted to get up.

Polly was already in the kitchen, preparing to go to an early mass before she worked on the accounts in the betting shop.

Tommy smiled. “He’s easy, don’t ya think? Much easier than Ada was.”

Polly sighed at the memory of Ada being colicky so often as an infant. “Much easier.” She agreed. “But still, I’m very proud of you. You’ve stepped up and have been very good to both of them.”

“Thanks, Pol.” Tommy let Max grab a hold of his index finger.

“So,” His aunt sipped her tea. “When are you going to marry her?”

“Pol!” Tommy’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you on about?”

“Thomas, you cannot hide things from me very easily. You lie the exact same way your mother did. Terribly. Now, I’m only asking because I’d like your union to be witnessed by God. Don’t want you two eloping behind my back.”

It was too early to argue about God with Polly. But Tommy had a feeling she wouldn’t drop the subject of marriage so easily. “She’s just had Max; I think she deserves a bit of time before she has to make another big decision.” He said defensively.

“But you’d be willing.”

“W-I…why are you bringing this up now? I don’t care what people think.”

“It’s not about what other people think. It’s about you, Tommy.” Polly gently touched his arm. “I know you’re in love with her. I know she’s in love with you. This flat is too fucking small not to notice the way you two are together. But I think you’re denying yourself this commitment because you’re afraid.”

Tommy looked down at Max. The newborn was slowly starting to fall asleep, his eyelids fluttering a few times before sliding shut. “We’re raising him together, Pol, I think that’s enough of a commitment.”

“Then marriage shouldn’t be a big deal.” She shrugged.

He hesitated because he knew she was trying to snag him on a technicality. “I suppose it isn’t. But it’s about what she wants. Pol, she’s been through a lot since she left. The pregnancy, how it happened…” He knew he couldn’t tell his aunt because he’d swore to Amelia he wouldn’t tell anyone what happened. “She’s not overly trusting right now. I think…y’know maybe she’s relying on trust we had before. When we were just kids. But it’s different now. I want to make things work but I think we have different ideas for the future.” He admitted. Max let go of his finger, lifting his little fist up with a yawn before settling again in his swaddle. “She said I should work with horses and just…forget about the betting shop. She’s worried I’ll get hurt.”

Polly could understand the young woman’s dilemma. It was the same issue she had with the start of the shop. But she’d begun to realize that they were Shelby boys, not choir boys. They would get into trouble no matter what. A pretty face couldn’t sway them from that. So, Polly figured that, if they had structure, a proper operation, maybe it would help them. Maybe it would keep them safer if they were let loose. She wasn’t perfect either. “Then maybe you two ought to figure out how to settle these differences. I know no one could ask you to change, Tommy. They’d only be wasting their breath. You have a plan and you want to see it through to the end. I suppose the only thing I can do is ask you to think about your family first. That family includes her and the baby now.” She reminded him gently.

Tommy nodded. “I know. Family comes first.” He echoed in agreement. “Always.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a tentative arrangement and happened very slowly, to begin with. But when Max was born, Tommy and Amelia found it was difficult sleeping in two separate bedrooms. He wanted to help out as best he could even if it was the middle of the night. As time went on, Amelia got comfortable with having him in her space. When initially she was wary. It started out with Tommy coming in from down the hall when he heard Max cry. Sometimes Amelia would assure him everything was okay, or she’d ask for some help. Tommy would either go back to bed in John’s room or sit in the rocking chair by Max’s cot. When things were quiet again, he’d return to bed down the hall.

Then, the nights became longer and sometimes he’d fall asleep in the rocking chair with Max in his arms. Sometimes he’d sit up on the floor near the cot, watching Max fall asleep. And oftentimes, watching the newborn fall asleep would make him doze off too.

Eventually, Amelia noticed Tommy started to complain about his neck or back in the morning. She knew it was because the majority of the night he wasn’t sleeping in a bed. She felt bad but allowed herself the time to get comfortable with him.

One night, when Max had settled down, Tommy had started to nod off in the rocking chair. Amelia got up and scooped Max out of Tommy’s arms so she could lay him in his cot.

“Tom.” She nudged him gently.

“Hm? Yeah?” He stirred and opened his eyes with a yawn.

“Come to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He stood up and stretched. He reached into the cot to affectionately touch Max’s cheek before heading to the door.

“No, just…” Amelia grabbed his hand before he left.

He looked back at her, a bit too tired to read between the lines. “Hm?”

“Just stay here.” She didn’t want to sound like she was begging for him to stay, but she really was. After reassuring herself that Tommy would never harm her, she understood her deep need for his affection. A chaste kiss or holding her hand every once and a while wasn’t enough. Now that they were settled with Max, she wanted to grow their relationship.

Tommy’s eyes flicked to the bed. “Are you sure?” He asked. It had been months since they were huddled up together in the vardo that summer at the fair. He had longed to be close to her again for longer periods of time in the day. But it was such a small flat and he knew his siblings could be merciless with their teasing. He didn’t want Amelia to be self-conscious about their relationship. So, he kept his distance and waited patiently for her to allow him closer.

She nodded. “Yeah. I think I need you to stay.”

“Alright.” He held a hand out to the bed, allowing her to lay down first so she could get comfortable first.

But she didn’t let go of his hand, pulling him with her to the bed. He followed her lead, laying down beside her, his chest pressed to her back. She adjusted his arm, making sure it was locked around her waist and their hands were intertwined.

It felt perfect. Tommy was suddenly wide awake, his heart beating too quickly to fall asleep.

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boat-dock · 4 years

Text

“Knowing You is for the Better” chapter 14

Long time no update... sorry guys. this was surprisingly hard for me write and I’m still not completely happy with how this turned out but I hope yall enjoy!

Today’s the day. Hope had spent two weeks dealing with an anxious Raf, a worried Landon, and her budding relationship all while trying to do school work and keep the school safe. To say she was overwhelmed and exhausted was an understatement, but today finally arrived. Visiting day.

Keelin, Freya, and Nik should arrive within the hour and everything has already gone to shit. To be fair it started yesterday when the twins got sick. Josie swears that she’s not actually sick, that Lizzie’s sick and she just feels the symptoms because of twin magic, whether that’s true or not they have both have been shut up in their room to recuperate since yesterday morning. Hope stopped by and brought them breakfast first thing this morning and Josie is very adamant that she will still be able to join her for family dinner tonight.

Rafael’s father, Walt, decided to surprise his son and come to family day so they could spend time together, so now they had another player in this already confusing game. Landon, on the other hand, was convinced that he was going to lose the only family that he has but instead of talking to his brother about this he kept it all bottled up so he always looked like he was going to vomit.

Hope liked to think that she was good in high-pressure situations, she literally fought monsters for a living, but something about this situation was just too much for her.

She was waiting in her room, absentmindedly tidying, but with her supernatural hearing, she could here Raf pacing around downstairs. She made her way to her mini-fridge and pulled out a blood bag, she’d skipped her dinner last night and now she was hungrier than she was comfortable being in a school filled with potential food.

Her ears and nose prick up as she senses her family arrives downstairs, her instincts say to rush down, but she wants to give Keelin and Raf a chance to get to know each other without her around, so instead she walked at a forced slow pace out of her room and downstairs.

The school was filled with strangers. Parents, siblings, and grandparents roamed the halls, those who were aware of who she is, eyed her warily as she walked among them, she wanted to shy away but her pride kept her head held high and a classic smirk on her face.

She rounded a corner and found her family standing in the halfway mingling politely with Raf and his father. Hope paused, still unseen so she could watch them. Keelin was smiling brightly, her hands moving as she talked and Freya stood slightly behind her with Nik asleep in her arms. It was still early and they had been driving through the night so she isn’t surprised that the young boy is still asleep, though she is sad that he isn’t awake to greet her.

Slowly she moves forward, hoping to seamlessly appear without drawing any attention or interrupting them, but of course, things never go quite as she plans. Landon spots her over Keelin’s shoulder and smiles while motioning her forward. Heat flares on her cheeks as eyes flick to her and she slumps as she makes her way to them. Freya quickly gives her a tight awkward hug as they work not to disturb Nik and Keelin presses a kiss to her cheek. “Hello, young lady,” Hope recognizes the man who speaks vaguely, she’d seen him briefly when he dropped Raf off at the school months and months ago, but she’d never been introduced to him, “ Who are you?” there’s a charm to him that she can’t deny.

“I’m Hope, sir,” she answers, politely, with a small practiced smile.

Freya cuts in,” this is my niece, Walt, she goes to school here too,” he grins and shakes her hand firmly. Raf visibly tenses next to her. This is what she’d wanted to avoid, she feared that her presence would make this entire situation much more awkward. People were beginning to swarm around them, Kaleb and his sister were nearby but Kim seemed more interested in Mg than him.

They stood there making polite tense conversation as long as Hope could stand it before she tried to excuse herself. Her family, however, was having none of it, “ What about Josie, where’s she?” Keelin asked shooting her an embarrassing look. Hope’s cheeks flamed as she did her best to explain the whole magic twin sickness situation.

Freya scrunched her eyebrows, “ well that’s a shame,” Nik shuffled in her arms but remained asleep, “ maybe she’ll feel better later and can join us for supper.”

“Hopefully,” she answered, then turned to make her leave.

A loud clash rings through the hallway and Hope snaps her attention toward the noise. Across the hall, a man had shattered a glass case holding their many second-place trophies and he sliced his palm open on the jagged piece. The smell of blood filled the air and Hope goes light-headed for a second. She was still drinking human blood unlike the rest of the students here but still the smell of blood so fresh hit her hard. All the other vampires around felt it too.

As her eyes went dark and veins snaked down her face, Freya gripped her arm with a vice-like grip. Blood roared in her ears as she yanked away her eyes flashing dangerously golden.

She snapped back into herself, fighting back the bloodlust like she’d been trained to do by the many vampires in her family with their many years of experience. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, backing away. Across the room, Kaleb was holding Mg back and forcing him to get under control. Many of the students were experiencing similar things but none of this seemed to be completely losing control. The man was ushered away before anyone even had a chance to question how or why he broke the glass.

When she turns her attention back to her family she is met by worried eyes, “ How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” Freya questioned clearly distressed by how easy her niece lost control. Her mind flashes back to the discarded blood bag in her room that she abandoned this morning so she could handle drama.

Before she could answer Keelin cut in,” How long has it been since you’ve shifted?” both of her aunts were worried for her for completely different reasons. But she couldn’t blame them, she hadn’t been taking good care of herself recently, choosing o focus on others instead.

Hope took a deep steadying breath, “ I’m sorry,” her words were slow and calculated,” I’ll go upstairs now and eat and I’ll go for a run tonight I promise.” she must have spoken louder than she intended while trying to escape the spotlight because she is overheard by Kaleb and Mg.

“Upstairs?” Kaleb called in a joking manner, “ why would you go upstairs when all the blood bags are in the kitchen?” the comment was innocent but it was exactly the kind of thing that nobody needed to notice. Dr. Saltzman was aware that Hope was drinking human blood, but honestly, he couldn’t do anything to stop it, her family was insistent that she needs to be at full strength at all times. No bunny blood for her. Her normally skilled facial expressions must have faltered because Kaleb’s face changed as he realized that his comment had actually uncovered something.

Mg’s eyes narrowed at her and she sucked in air through her nose. “Why do you have blood in your room Hope?” he asked much more serious, borderline accusatory. Her walls flew up and she prepared to defend herself.

“Oh my god, your drinking human blood aren’t you?” Kaleb said his voice in a low whisper. His temper flared as he recalled what he was put through after he had been caught doing the exact same thing. When she didn’t answer he took it as confirmation and his eyes nearly rolled back into his head as he spoke,” Of course you are, why would the great Hope Mikaelson have to follow the same rules that the rest of us do.”

It was a fair jab. To an outsider, it would seem like she was allowed to do anything she wanted with little fear of punishment. She was going to try and salvage this situation but Freya spoke up before she could,” My niece does not need to explain herself to you,” she said with the calmness of someone who knew that she was one of the most powerful beings in the room.

Mg scoffs loudly, “ Not surprised,”

Hope’s lack of food and shifting was affecting her and her temper was running thin. Her hands twitched at her side as she struggled to keep herself under control. “Of course I have to follow rules here,” she nearly growls,” they just aren’t the same rules you have to follow.” her own privilege in the eyes of the other students was not lost on her but there was very little she could do about it.

“Like what?” Kaleb said smugly, arms crossed in front of him in a way that infuriated her.

Her mind was spinning as she spilled all the things she was never supposed to tell the other students, “ Oh I don’t maybe me having to live here under a fake name for most of my life, or maybe its the fact that for me to even attend this school my mother had to make a deal with the mayor saying that seventy-five percent of my family couldn’t set foot in the town.” she rambled.

“And you’ve been so good at following that rule,” Kaleb shot back motioning to Freya. It’s true that all of Hope’s remaining family had been on campus recently but that didn’t stop her vision from turning red.

“We decided that rule was stupid because the mayor shot me,” she screamed,” he murdered me, right there in those wood, in case you’ve forgotten.” her words sank like stones as the lights flicker above her. Whether it was her magic or Freya’s she was wasn’t sure. The two vampires stepped back, put off by her fury and lack of control that was so unlike the Hope they knew.

“What?” Freya growled, she seemed calm except for her stormy eyes. Keelin stepped in and removed a still sleeping Nik from her wife’s arms, she recognized how quickly this situation had gotten out of hand and she knew how Freya was going to react.

The secret Hope had worked so hard to keep was now out in the open and if she didn’t rectify it quickly her entire family would soon know and the streets of Mystic Falls would run red. “Freya I can explain,” she spoke trying to regain some kind of control.

“Mathew Donovan shot you,” she stated plainly but the lights once again started to flicker. Hope knew what was going to come next. The mayor would suffer some kind of painful death that would get covered up as an animal attack or something else equally ridiculous, but no one would be able to do anything about it.

“What’s going on?” Raf mumbled behind them as Walt glanced around warily. This was not how this meeting was supposed to go. If she could get Freya alone she could try and calm her Keelin would still have time to get to know Rafael and his family.

Nik lifted his head groggily and mumbled something Hope couldn’t quite make out, but Keelin shushed him and he fell back to sleep with ease. “Please calm down aunt Freya,” Hope pleaded,” he doesn’t deserve to die for this.”

“Oh but my darling he does,” Freya responded. Hope might not want any more death but her family was dead set on eliminating anyone who posed a threat to her and now Matthew Donovan fits straight into that category. “And he will.” Hope was now used to hearing her family speak of death and killing as nonchalantly as they do but the other people here were clearly unnerved by this.

“Alright let’s take it down a notch,” Keelin interjected, placing a hand on the back of Nik’s head,” I shouldn’t need to remind you that we have small ears here.” Nik, of course, was her way out of this.

Hope stepped quickly and took Nik into her arms, reveling in the way his little arms wrapped around her neck. “Freya let’s go upstairs and put Nik to bed and then we will take a walk and talk about this calmly and like adults.” she seemed calmer now that her attention was on her son, but Hope doubted it would be that easy.

They left the stunned group and walked silently up the stairs. As much as Hope tried to block out all the sounds around her, her supernatural hearing didn’t have an on and off switch. As they walked away her ears lingered on the conversation below between Keelin and Raf. “Do you think Hope should have special treatment?” Rafael asks.

Keelin hesitated before answering,” I think that Hope’s enemies have infiltrated this school to hurt her before and that she always needs to be at her full strength to protect herself.” Raf didn’t respond.

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slytherin-puffskein · 4 years

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don’t cry, snowman.

Don't cry, snowman, not in front of me Who'll catch your tears if you can't catch me, darling If you can't catch me, darling Don't cry, snowman, don't leave me this way A puddle of water can't hold me close, baby Can't hold me close, baby

summary: Instead of celebrating Christmas at Hogwarts as he usually does, Laurent King decides to help out at his aunt’s bakery. A surprise comes to him, hilarious for many, despicable to him. Oscar Whelan is here to give him support, but Laurent realizes that he might be the one to give support instead.

notes: Merry Christmas, you guys!!! Here is a mix of fluff and angst!

- - -

Hey Laurent.

Are you having a good time at Hogwarts? I sure hope so. I can’t say I’ve been having a lot of fun, honestly: Exams, studying, exams, studying. Oh, wait, I forgot something else. Exams again. There you go. Now you can understand what I have to deal with.

But let’s turn these frowns upside down! I often say that, huh? And you seem to hate it an awful lot, judging by the way you roll your eyes whenever I say it. Heh! What are cousins supposed to do, besides annoying each other? Anyway, I’m getting off topic. Christmas holidays are coming! Are you staying at Hogwarts, or coming home to your dad’s? I’m not twisting your arm or anything, but if I’m honest, the bakery could really, really use your help. We’re about to face the Christmas rush, after all… but fear not! We have an idea to deal with it. And believe me, it’s going to be really, really fun. You like fun, don’t you? So think about it, please! Mum, Dad and I will greet you with open arms. How about you spend Christmas with us as well? Your old man doesn’t seem to appreciate the holiday as much as he used to… anyway. Write me back!

Love,

Cyril.

Laurent should have expected that his cousin was manipulating him as soon as he had read the words ‘it’s going to be really, really fun’. Of course such sentence would be used to catch his attention, how had he been so blind? I promise you, Cyril had said as soon as he had set foot into the bakery, coat still on and heavy luggage numbing his fingers, it’s going to be a blast. Like a fool, Laurent had believed him, because hey, it’s Christmas. No one gets tricked on Christmas, right?

Newsflash: Laurent has been extremely, terribly, badly wrong. He has been, as unlikely as it sounded, tricked, and the fact that it was coming from Cyril came across as a huge punch on his pride. Since when was he able to do such thing? Wasn’t he, like, too earnest to pull this sort of thing? Decidedly, Laurent didn’t really know his cousin. If at all.

As he pulled out the Christmas Elf costume out of a fancy, shiny bag, Laurent went quite close to grab his stuff and leave. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Somehow, his brain had done all the equations needed, and he had exactly figured out what was about to happen. Remnants of memories came to him, ones of a conversation he had overheard between his aunt and uncle:

The holidays are always a good time to promote our bakery. Just what could we do, hm? Organize some kind of event, perhaps?

He had paid little thought to these words, but, Merlin, he should have. Maybe then, he would have answered differently to Cyril’s letter.

“I’m dead serious, Lau. Mum got the best of the best of ideas! I swear, let--stop walking away, let me tell you, sit down and have a croissant and just listen!” Reluctantly, Laurent did so, but took himself a macaron instead. “Now, what do kids like, huh? Sugar! Of course they like that! And what does our bakery sells, you ask?”

“Cyril.” A sigh heaved from Laurent’s lips as he titled his head, half annoyed, half fearful. “Just tell me what I have to do… though I think I have it figured out by now.”

A smile came to grace his cousin’s features. What a handsome man! anyone would have said. What a prick, Laurent was currently thinking. He knows exactly what he is doing. Oh Merlin, I should have stayed at Hogwarts. I could have been sipping hot cocoa with Barnaby. BARNABY! And now-- “Well,” Cyril spoke again, brandishing the costume proudly. “We made a deal with the local mall, we’re gonna host a Meet Santa stand! Isn’t that, like, the best idea ever? I’m tellin’ you so! Dad’s gonna dress as Santa, Mum’s gonna be Santa’s wife. And I will be the kind man offering free pastries to children to encourage them, and their parents, to visit our bakery! Which leaves you--”

“As the lovely Christmas Elf.” Despite how disarrayed he seemed, a smile curved his lips, because even he had to admit it: the situation was hilarious. Anyone would have laughed at Laurent, so why not do the same, huh? Maybe it will help me deal with this. Just… smile and laugh, my guy. Smile and laugh.

“The lovely Christmas Elf indeed! You’ll take pictures of the kids when they sit on Dad’s— Santa’s lap. You’re going to be great!”

Smile and laugh. Smile and laugh.

* * *

Smile and laugh. Smile and laugh. Despite repeating himself these words like a mantra, shame kept blossoming inside his chest, spreading through his entire body until it even reached his fingertips. I. Look. Ridiculous. This is the day I die, most definitely. Oh Merlin. Wait a second. Do people from my middle school come to this mall…? Oh NO, they definitely fucking DO, this is the fucking local fucking mall. Dear Merlin, this is it. Leave orchids on my grave. My life is over. And it’s going to end with me wearing shorts and thighs.

Striped thighs with the colors reminiscent of a candy cane, along with a bright green shirt and shorts as well as a ridiculous hat. To top it off, he had to wear pointy shoes… and fake elf ears. Not to mention the glitter his aunt insisted to put on his cheeks.

My, you look lovely, she had said while combing his hair with her fingers, trying (and failing) to make them look more proper. Your mother would be proud. You know, she had quite the Christmas spirit! She wanted to name you Noel, but eventually settled on Laurent. Laurent hadn’t said anything, had simply forced a smile, but only one comment only floated over his mind: she wouldn’t have been proud to see me wear such a ridiculous outfit, believe me.

Prideful, much?

Seeing the kids happily yelling at the sight of who they believed to be Santa Claus made all of this somewhat worthy, however. After photographing kid after kid sitting on his uncle’s lap while listing to him the gifts they wanted, he had almost, almost forgotten about his ridiculous outfit. Hell, he even became sort of playful; chatting with children and pretending to be an actual Elf from the North Pole. They were mesmerized, needless to say, and none of them had seemed to notice just how fake his ears were. Well, I’m making them dream. That’s good. Dreaming is the best thing to do.

He had forgotten about one tiny, tiny thing, however. The day before, he had been… well, no need to sugarcoat it: he had been horrified at the thought of looking so ridiculous. And so, in the depths of his despair, he had called his best friend Oscar Whelan and had… well, ranted quite a lot. And made sure to apologize at the end of the conversation once he realized how had been acting. God, I must seem like the biggest drama queen, huh? You’re not seeing it right now, but I’m blushing like hell. He had heard Oscar’s laugh, then his voice. Come on Lau, I called you to whine when I lost my favorite book. I was almost crying. Tell me who is overreacting, now? Alright, maybe still you because it was an amazing book, but you get my drift.

That had made him laugh. Oscar always made him laugh. But as he showed up near the stand, his little sister propped up on his hip, Laurent wasn’t laughing at all. In fact, he was pretty sure his features had gone white. Oh. My. God. Of course he would show up, his sister loves Santa Claus! The thought of hiding behind one of the fake Christmas trees crossed his mind, but he ultimately shoved it away. No, come on. I can do this. I handled kids seeing me like this, why not Oscar? Why should I be embarrassed? Ignoring his heart that was hammering against his ribs, he made a step towards the lineup only to notice Oscar had vanished… and had, actually, made his way over the fake snow to him.

“Hey—”

Laurent cut him, however. Since they were standing a few steps from Santa’s chair, he immediately grabbed Oscar’s wrist and pulled him away so that people won’t think he was thinking of cutting the line.

And as they were far enough, Laurent’s burning cheeks came to hit him full force. “Why are—”

Oscar’s smile was already present, and wasn’t about to leave, Laurent was quite sure of it. As opposed to Cyril’s smile, however, it wasn’t annoying him. Not at all. In fact, it warmed him up, and made him believe that, hey, maybe Oscar seeing me in that costume isn’t that bad after all.

“Aw come on, you exaggerated on the phone! You’re adorable!”

Nevermind. Laurent playfully smacked Oscar’s arms, a smile on his lips. “Don’t say that! I look like a huge idiot, have you seen my hat? The glitter?”

“When Aine begged me to go see Santa at the mall, I firstly knew I couldn’t resist to her smile. And then, it dawned on me: I had to accept anyway, I couldn’t miss the opportunity of seeing such an adorable elf~”

At the mention of ‘elf’, Aine finally pulled her face away from her brother’s shoulder, landing her gaze on Laurent. Immediately he got ready to put on his Christmas Elf act, but was most surprised when the girl blew a raspberry, clearly unimpressed.

“You aren’t a real elf! You’re Laurent, Oscar’s friend! I know, because, because he tells me a lot about you and--”

“And suddenly you aren’t tired anymore, little one?” Oscar piped up. Laurent was so busy shoving back his embarrassment as far as possible, he had made no notice of his friend’s blushing cheeks. “Shall I assume that you pretended to be so that Big Brother Oscar would carry you? Hmmm?”

Little Aine giggled, and began grabbing at Oscar’s hair. As messy as always, just like Lau’s. “Sorryyyyyyyyy.” And then she shifted her attention back to Laurent, staring with wonder at him. “You’re really cute!”

“Isn’t he?” Oscar commented. “Look at that costume. Makes me want to pinch his cheeks.”

“Oscaaaar!” Aine suddenly exclaimed. “We need to get in line! I don’t wanna miss Santa!” Her excited expression just made Laurent realize how adorable children were. Maybe he could have one, someday.

If he ever finds someone to love. Right now, he has very little hope, but that was surely stemming from typical teenage angst, to think you aren’t made for anyone.

Oscar pretended to let out an exasperated sigh, but never did his smile leave his lips. Aine giggled, then yelped as Oscar put her on his shoulders. “Alright, kiddo, let’s go meet your idol. Do you think he accepts autographs? I’ve got a friend, she loves Santa and would love an autograph… what d’ya think, Lau?”

Aine’s giggle only became greater, and Laurent couldn’t help but play along, scratching his chin. “Mhm, that’s a good question, Oscar. I am no true Elf, so I cannot say for sure since I do not know Santa that well… but I’m certain he’d be glad to.” And he winked.

Oscar winked back. “Got it. See ya, cutie.”

Laurent’s reply was instant: “I’m not cute! Not in this costume! I’m ridiculous!”

"Hmm, alright, Ridiculous.” Oscar titled his head, and while many would have told him to shut up, Laurent was too busy admiring the glitter of joy in his eyes. And after all, despite how he was acting, he wasn’t annoyed at all. Oscar would never do anything to truly annoy him, he knew very well of his boundaries. “No, I don’t like that nickname. Nuh-uh. What can I call you, I wonder? How about Elf Man? Got a nice ring to it if you want my opinion. Alright then. Elf Man it is!”

Laurent’s reaction came so suddenly, it even took him by surprise. One minute he was smiling, the other he was roaring with laughter, hands on his ribs and eyes squeezing shut. Oscar Whelan truly was able to make him feel happy, wasn’t he? He tip toed to ruffle his hair, then, with a flick of the hand, gestured him to go. “Go, now! My lunch break’s soon, how about we all grab something together?”

Oscar’s smile was the softest thing he had ever seen. “I’d love that.”

* * *

Right, they didn’t immediately eat. Oscar’s little sister was so excited about the fact that she had finally met Santa Claus that they had to tire her a little before they could sit in peace, and so they had visited some of the many, many shops that the mall held… while Laurent was still in his costume. He has been so enthusiastic about spending time with Oscar, the thought of changing clothes hadn’t even brushed his mind.

Another thought did, however, but he quickly shoved it away: the desire to tell Oscar everything. About himself. About his friends. About his school. About what was, basically, his secret life. The life he was hiding from his best friend. Maybe we can just sit there, and, after we eat, I tell him everything. Hey, Oscar. I’m a wizard. I’m a wizard and I go to a school for wizards. My friends are wizards. Oh Merlin, I’m saying the word ‘wizard’ an awful lot, am I? Anyway. Please accept me. Please remain my friend. Please don’t be freaked out. And don’t tell anyone. I know you won’t do such thing, but still.

The bitter truth, the one that he cannot tell him anything, quickly hit him, tightening his chest and making him stop in his tracks to breathe deeply, thus birthing Oscar’s concerns. Are you ok, Lau?

Yes I am. Don’t worry about me. He remained still for a moment, shoved all of his fears aside, and kept on walking. In order to make him laugh, as they visited a toy store, Oscar decided to joke around with a teddy bear, holding it and talking with a ridiculous voice. It worked, and even Aine began to laugh as well, and eventually got hungry. They all finally sat down to eat at the food court, savoring the delicious pizzas they bought. Dessert came fairly quickly, and while Oscar paid Aine a delicious chocolate milkshake, he and Laurent found themselves enjoying a bowl of candy cane flavored ice cream. Each holding a spoon they happily ate, and conversation came soon enough.

“How are things with Alyssa?”

Alyssa Buckley, known to Laurent as Oscar’s girlfriend. According to his letters they have been dating for two months, but Laurent had never gotten the opportunity to ask questions about her. After all, he would rather talk of this girl with Oscar while face to face… and that was exactly what he was doing at the moment.

Unexpectedly, his friend’s smile wavered, and he took himself a spoonful of ice cream. “We broke up. About a week ago. I got so caught him in the Christmas craze, getting gifts for everyone, that I forgot to tell you… sorry.”

Oh Merlin. I fucked up. Now he’s going to be sad over his breakup. Stupid Laurent, stupid Laurent! An apology immediately came, but he was surprised to see Oscar shrug.

“I’m not… I’m not as hurt as I think I am supposed to be, oddly enough.” He took himself some more ice cream, but didn’t eat it immediately. He simply stared at his spoon, the usual sparkle in his eyes flickering, threatening to die down. “I must sound like a jerk, no? I just… I had the feeling it will end up like this. I had time to prepare myself for it. After all, it always ends up like this with people I date.” That last sentence held great bitterness, and Laurent could only helplessly stare. He had never dated. Never kissed. How could he possibly be of help? “No matter how hard I try,” Oscar spoke again, lowering his spoon and looking down at his hands. “My… My mind always turns back to the same person. Every time. Even though I know I have no chance.”

Now, he had to say something. The words naturally came, without him having to think them through: “You don’t know that, Oscar.” To punctuate his words he reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers slowly.

Oscar took a brief look to their linked fingers, sighing. “Believe me, I do.” His gaze went to meet his, and Laurent’s heart bled with disarray as he saw the look in his eyes.

The joy had vanished, giving way to pure despair coupled with a silver of acceptance. He was heartbroken, but willing to endure it, to give up on his love, as if he felt he wasn’t worthy enough. How painful, Laurent told himself. I can’t imagine how that must feel...

A horrible silence, caused by Oscar’s sadness, settled in and Laurent knew one and one thing only: he could in no way handle seeing his best friend like this. I need to cheer him up. That’s what I gotta do! I’m his best friend, it’s time to fucking deliver! His mischievousness provided him with an idea, and he was quick to take a spoonful of ice cream. He moved as if to eat it… but then suddenly pressed it against Oscar’s nose. “Y’know, if your nose gets red because of the cold, you could be Rudolph for the Meet Santa stand~”

Merlin. It’s a terrible joke. Fuck. He had feared his plan wouldn’t work, but his shoulders relaxed as Oscar began to laugh softly, previously flickering lights of joy steadily going back to life in his eyes as he reached for his own spoon. “You want to play that game, King? I’m sure you will look adorable covered with ice cream~”

He inched closer and Laurent raised his arms to protect himself, pure laughter shaking his shoulders. “Ack, no! You’re gonna ruin my makeup, Whelan! And the costuuuuume!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your amazing costume.” Oscar giggled, moving his spoon towards Laurent. “I insist however, you take it, I’m not that hungry.”

Laurent was fairly quick to eat the ice cream. After all, how could he possibly miss such opportunity? He gave Oscar a smile, one that, he hoped, conveyed all the love he held for him.

“Keep hope, Oscar.” He said. “You’re an amazing man, anyone would be lucky to date you. I’m sure the girl— or guy that you like reciprocates your feelings. If not, they’re an idiot.”

Silence clung to the air again, but it was a comfortable one. At last Oscar turned to his sister, who was drowsing on her chair. “Well, I guess I have to bring this kiddo back home. How bad do you think my mum will kill me if she learns I let her drink that monstrous amount of milkshake?”

“Really bad. I’ll bring flowers to your funeral.”

“You better.”

They stood up and while Laurent expected Oscar to pick up his sister, he instead stepped forward to pull him into a hug. Right, it’s true, we always do that before we leave. But this hug… it’s… It was the most loving hug he had gotten from Oscar Whelan. Right, all of his hugs were loving, but that one’s love felt stronger. Much stronger, and Laurent allowed himself to sink into that love by hugging him as tight as possible. They swayed together for a while, just a little.

I love him so much. He’s the greatest friend.

As they pulled away, Oscar pressed a kiss on Laurent’s forehead, then carefully picked up his sister. “See you, Lau.”

#my writing #laurent king x oscar whelan #oc: oscar whelan #laurent king

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gumnut-logic · 5 years

Text

V. T. Green (Part 5)

Title: V. T. Green

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Author: Gumnut

21 - 22 Sep 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “Did you discover this, Brains?” He frowned. There was something familiar about this. Maybe they had discussed it recently.

“Oh, no, this is V. T. Green. The man is brilliant.”

Word count: 3282

Spoilers & warnings: None.

Timeline: Standalone

Author’s note: Ooh, two parts in two days. I’m on a roll :D I hope you enjoy it :D

This is one that I have been meaning to write for some time. I hope you enjoy it :D Many thanks to @scribbles97, @vegetacide and @thunderstorm-bay for all their wonderful help with this.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Scott was staring at him as if lost for words. The medbay suddenly felt very small.

John’s voice interrupted. “Virgil?”

Virgil cleared his throat and shifted where he sat. “Yes, John.” His arm twinged and he grit his teeth. Damn it.

“I have something you will be interested in.”

“Tell me you’ve found who did it.”

“I think you know who did it.”

What?

“Well, I don’t know. Tell me.” Virgil’s revelation had obviously sunk into his brother. His eyes were glittering with anger.

“About a month after we saved the dam, Windemere ordered a check on the nanocrete. A crew was sent out, but the results were inconclusive. Records show that there was no concern regarding integrity, but a sample of the nanocrete was taken.”

“They messed with our stuff?” Scott was building up a fine head of steam.

“Hardly our stuff, Scott. Besides, Brains has molecularly masked the nanocrete anyway. They had no way to reverse engineer the formula.”

“So why take a sample? It would have been a bitch to hack off.”

“Diamond cutter coupled with a microlaser.”

“Microlaser.” Virgil jumped on the word like a life buoy in the middle of the ocean. “Windemere did this?”

“According to the dam records.”

“Did they go out again?”

“Yes, a month later. Reason was recorded as another integrity check.”

“That’s when they did it.” Virgil bit his lip.

“I concur.” There was something in John’s voice. “I have several images from Global Two on that day.” Images were shunted down to the medbay’s holoprojector.

There were only four and the camera had been focussed on the town, not the dam, but when John looped them into sequence, the crew, dark against the stark white concrete wall moved in a familiar pattern, touching first the central position of the nanocrete followed by the weak points Alan and Gordon had shored up earlier in the day.

“Windemere.”

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“An opportunity, perhaps?”

“By sacrificing his own dam? His own career?”

“A gamble that is still to pay off?” John’s voice wasn’t quite as calm as usual.

Virgil straightened where he sat. “It is not going to pay off.” He threw himself to his feet. “We need Aunt Val and I need to see Windemere.”

He turned to leave and ran slap bang into his brother. The shock shook his frame and his arm.

“What the hell, Scott?”

“Where do you think you are going? I told you to get some rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not even supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be home in bed.”

“I’m fine! This needs to be done and it needs to be done now.” He glared up at his brother. Of all the frustrating...

“Goddamnit, Virgil, you have to push it, don’t you.” Scott’s voice had dropped rather than risen which meant he was beyond pissed and well into apoplectic. “I will speak to this guy. You sit your ass down now.”

“Scott-“

“No! And don’t you think I’m ever taking you out on a rescue injured ever again.”

Virgil straightened, his glare a physical heat between them. “Do you think I enjoy doing this? Do you think I am into self-flagellation? I do this because it has to be done. I do this because I am the only one who can do it.”

“Bullshit, Virg! I can fly Brains out here in no time.”

And there it was, the core of the matter. “Brains is a mechanical engineer, Scott. He’s a goddamned genius, but when in the hell is this family going to realise I have my own specialities. I may not have a pile of blasted paper to prove it, but you’ve always trusted me. Always. Why not now?!”

It took Scott down a peg, his shoulders shifting as he let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re injured.”

“I have a weakened arm. There is nothing wrong with my brain, Scott, and that is what is needed here. No heavy lifting, no mechanical aid, no Thunderbird Two, just me and what is between my ears. For god’s sake, trust me.”

“I do.”

“Then let me do this.”

“Virgil...”

“Oh, for the love of... no wonder most of you haven’t worked it out.” Frustrated, Virgil used his left shoulder to push past his brother. “Thunderbird Five, could you please put me through to Aunt Val?”

“FAB.” Whether John had overheard their discussion or not - he probably had - he did not react to it at all.

Virgil strode out the medbay, heading for the hatch so his girl could let him down onto the worn asphalt his ‘bird was parked on. Scott followed without a word. Whether or not what had been said made a difference, Virgil did not know. Chances are Scott would pick up the conversation later and rip strips off him, but too bad. This had to be done now.

-o-o-o-

Scott was furious.

He followed his brother out of his ‘bird and into the evening light. Far down below the dam, water gushed into the stream, desperate to empty the reservoir.

Whatever John said to their Aunt, it had her appearing in a GDF flyer almost immediately, the vehicle hovering to allow both brothers to board.

“Scott, I have to say I am happy to have you boys here on this one. Thank you so much for all your assistance with the evacuation and shoring up the town.”

Keeping a polite face, Scott buried his anger at his brother to maintain civility. He would save it for later. “It is what we do, Colonel.”

“Well, I am very happy that you do it. Now, John said your request was urgent.” The flyer lifted slowly.

Scott looked at his brother. Okay, Virgil, this is your play.

A flash of brown in his direction. “Colonel, we need to speak to Windemere. I have some suspicions I need confirmed.”

“Windemere is in the brig. He did nothing but hamper attempts to prevent this disaster. I have questions of my own.”

Virgil straightened his shoulders. “I need to see him. It is important.”

Casey flicked a glance at Scott, who tilted his head just a little. Virgil’s shoulders tensed beside him.

Okay, maybe Virgil had a point.

“Virgil needs to speak to the dam supervisor. He has some technical questions.”

Casey lowered her eyes to the younger brother, her lips pursed just a little. “Very well.”

-o-o-o-

There was an empty cabin and a couple of chairs. To be honest, Virgil was quite happy to sit down. Scott was right. He shouldn’t be here, but it was no good wishing for what he couldn’t have. Work with what you’ve got. It was a Jeff Tracy motto, one Virgil Tracy kept close to his heart.

Of course, the pissed off mother hen beside him, didn’t fail to notice his sag into the chair. Even Aunt Val was eyeing him with concern.

Fine! He had a bent wing, but for god’s sake, he was okay.

Scott furrowed his brow.

Virgil turned away and ignored him.

Windemere was led into the room. Both the GDF and Thunderbird Five were recording this interview. Virgil desperately needed an independent eye that wasn’t IR to see what this man had done.

“Mr Windemere, these two agents of International Rescue have requested to speak to you. Please answer their questions fully and to the best of your knowledge.”

The man snorted. “I know my rights. I don’t have to say anything.”

“That is your choice, but you will find that the charges being laid against you will go kindlier if you help.”

“Is that a threat?”

Casey straightened, an eyebrow arching. “No, Mr Windemere, a simple fact.” The Colonel turned and took another seat towards the back of the room witnessing the interview as Virgil had requested.

Windemere turned to Virgil. “So, have you finished destroying my dam.”

“As I have repeatedly said, Mr Windemere, the dam’s disintegration was not caused by our repairs.”

“Prove it.” It was almost a snarl.

Virgil arched an eyebrow. “We have. It must have taken you some time to laser bore all those holes into the dam wall.”

“What holes?”

Virgil poked at his holoprojector and his scan results appeared for all to see.

He didn’t miss the quietly indrawn breath of his Aunt behind him.

Windemere was suddenly very still. His expression wasn’t perfect, the man was too stupid for that.

But not stupid enough.

“And I suppose you put that together with your little proprietary gadget that no one else knows anything about?”

“These scan results were achieved using a standard IR structural scanner, a device we use to locate structural defects, load points and hidden support mechanisms. I used the same scanner last week to calculate the weakest point in a brick wall in order to save a toddler from a fire. Yes, they are proprietary and no, you can’t see their schematics. The scan, however, is correct and true to fact.”

The snarl returned. “Why should I believe you.”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“Because you destroyed my dam.”

“We did not destroy your dam.”

“Prove it.”

“I just did.”

“Well, isn’t that just perfect for you. All that data that no one else can prove right or wrong, we just have to believe you are not lying.” His lip actually curled like a dog’s. “But you are.”

Virgil let it wash over him. Beside him, Scott was stiff as a board.

“What possible reason would International Rescue have to want to destroy the Grand Sequoia Dam?”

“To hide your own screw up.”

“What screw up?”

“The damage that your fancy concrete did to the dam.”

“There was no damage.”

“Prove it.”

Scott’s knuckles creaked as his fist tightened.

Virgil didn’t dare look in his direction.

“Mr Windemere, what are your qualifications?”

The man blinked, the question coming out of left field, but he straightened somewhat, obviously proud of his own achievements. “I am a graduate of the highest ranked engineering college in the world, Denver, of course.”

Virgil knew this; John had briefed them both on Windemere’s background prior to this little interview, but the engineer was still caught between laughing and cursing the fact this idiot was a product of the same educational institution he was.

Goes to show that education is certainly not everything.

“Were you there when Abby Applegate blew up the Chem Lab building?”

The man actually snorted. “I dated Abby Applegate.”

Well, that explained a lot. Abby Applegate was legendary at Denver. She was a genius, but not too bright on so many other fronts. Her theories were breakthrough, her execution catastrophic. The woman had been at Denver forever and yet she still hadn’t graduated. Virgil suspected the College kept her on campus as a public service while farming her for her brilliance.

Windemere frowned. “You went to Denver?!” His eyes widened. “You’re Virgil Tracy!”

“Yes.” The man was an idiot. Their attendance only overlapped by one year, but then Windemere had been there long before Virgil ever set foot on campus.

“Son of Jeff Tracy.” And there was the inevitable.

“Yes.”

“You work for International Rescue?”

Virgil’s arm was aching and his patience growing short. “Abby Applegate is brilliant. She was a core contributor to today’s hover technology. Did you know that?”

Windemere stared at him. “Sure. What has that got to do with anything?”

“Do you remember the Pacific seaquakes several years ago? The Tsunami Disaster? Abby Applegate was responsible for designing the technology that enabled the Hood to create those seaquakes. She didn’t know, or, I suspect, care, who got their hands on the technology. She released the designs as a theoretical. The Hood got his hands on them and the world suffered for it.” He pinned the man with his eyes. “This is why International Rescue technology is proprietary. This is why we don’t release our designs or formulas. Everything we do is for the good of everyone. But not everyone cares like we do.”

“Have you finished preaching?”

It was Virgil’s turn to tighten a fist under the table. “What did he offer you?”

“Who?”

“The Hood.”

The sudden silence was telling, but far from proof.

“He wanted the formula for the nanocrete, didn’t he? Offered you money in exchange for your career and integrity?”

Windemere’s lips thinned. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

God, the man was a pathetic liar. Beside him, Scott shifted in his seat. Virgil reached out and placed his hand on his brother’s knee. Blue flickered in his direction.

“Mr Windemere, we have molecular proof of artificially instigated concrete cancer, we have the delivery method, we have your service records, we know you did this. You do not have the technology the Hood requested and we are not going to give it to you. Your better option is to own up to your crimes and hope the courts are kinder to you for it.”

To Virgil’s surprise, the man smiled. “But to prove it, you will have to reveal your technology to those courts.”

Virgil eyed the man. What was his motivation? He stood to lose everything in this scheme. What could possibly be driving him to career suicide?

The man’s smile widened.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. It couldn’t be as simple as that, could it? Really?

“You know, Scott, I don’t think he knows anything. I don’t think he is bright enough to pull this off.” He flicked a glance in his brother’s direction, hoping he’d pick up on his train of thought.

As always, his big brother read his mind, eyes drilling into his for just that split second. “I told you that. He has to be a puppet of a smarter mind. We are wasting our time.” Scott stood up.

“I am no puppet!”

Wow, that was quick.

Acidic blue cut the man down. “There is no way you are smart enough to pull this off, Windemere.”

Virgil stood up. “He dated Abby Applegate. Perhaps she inadvertently released another of her ‘ideas’. Colonel Casey, the GDF will have to do something about her.”

Aunt Val rose, eyes darting between Virgil and his brother.

“It wasn’t Abby!” Windemere threw himself to his feet.

Virgil ignored him, taking a step towards the door. “Did I tell you about the time Abby set fire to her dorm by exploding a donut?”

Scott followed his lead. “A donut?”

“Pumped it full of homemade C-4 equivalent. Blew out sixteen windows and burned down half the building.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, it was spectacular.”

“It wasn’t Abby!”

“No one was hurt, fortunately. Though she did revolutionise the explosives market. Come to think of it, I used a derivative just last week during that mine collapse. It is an excellent product to work with.” He latched onto his brother’s eyes. “This corrosion would be right up her alley. I don’t know why I didn’t think of her earlier. It’s not like she hasn’t supplied the Hood before. He does only work with the best, I’ll give him that much.” A dismissive hand thrown in Windemere’s direction. “There is no way Windemere would make the grade.”

“Hey!”

Virgil hit his comms, knowing John was already listening in. “Thunderbird Five, could you give me a current location on Abby Applegate. She should be still housed at Denver College grounds.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Two.”

“Abby didn’t do it! I did!”

The room fell silent except for the harsh breathing of the man at its centre. His face was red, skin gleaming in the overhead light. “I’m just as smart as Abby, Just as smart. Smart. I’m smart.” And something in the man’s angry mind clicked and he realised exactly what he had done. He went still as stone for a moment, staring wide-eyed at Virgil.

An inarticulate scream and he threw himself across the table, hands clawing.

One hooked Virgil’s sling before he could react and, for a split second, all he saw was Windemere’s wild face and a flash of pain striking across his vision in all its colour variegated glory.

A blur of blue IR uniform and Virgil found himself falling back into his seat with a jarring thud as Scott intervened between him and the raging engineer. GDF guards piled in, and the man was dragged off the IR operatives, still screaming incoherently.

“Lock him up.” Aunt Val’s voice could not have been more disgusted. Windemere was bundled out of the room. His screams echoed down the hall.

“Virg, you okay?”

Virgil blinked and found Scott crouching down at his side, worry in his eyes. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. Didn’t expect him to completely explode.” He straightened up and winced. “Should have reacted quicker.”

His brother looked up at their Aunt. “Do we have enough?”

A sharp nod. “We have enough. Thank you, Scott. Thank you, Virgil.” She frowned down at him. “I think it is time you went home, young man.”

Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Scott immediately straightened up. “I agree.” He held out his hand. “C’mon, Virgil, Grandma is waiting.”

This time he did roll his eyes. “I’m fine.” But as he took Scott’s hand and his brother helped him to his feet, he realised that, yes, he was beyond tired, he was sick of being in pain, and yes, all he wanted to do was go home.

For just a moment, Scott drew him close. “You did good, Virg.” A squeeze to his uninjured shoulder. “You did good.”

-o-o-o-

The ride home was a blur.

Scott hauled him onto TB2, dragged him to the medbay, and produced the dreaded painkillers, glaring at Virgil until he swallowed the necessary dose down.

There was a brief ‘discussion’ on whether Virgil should lie down on the gurney, but ultimately he ended up in the cockpit.

He must have fallen asleep because next he knew Scott and Gordon were gently pulling him from his seat and lying him down. A flush of cooler air had him breathing in deep, but another sigh and he drifted again.

Murmured words, the familiar scent of his own cotton sheets, and he let himself go.

Job complete.

Now he could sleep.

-o-o-o-

The afternoon sun was crawling across his bed when Virgil woke the next day.

Its brightness had him blinking and shifting stiffly in his bed. A yawn, creaking fabric and he discovered he was still in his uniform, his baldric draped over a chair and his boots out of sight. It had obviously been impossible to remove the blue coverall simply because of his sling.

A whiff and he realised his odour wasn’t the most pleasant. A shower sounded divine.

Movement, however, was a whole different matter.

He sighed.

His ceiling invited thought as he traced the meditative swirls, his mind skipping over the events of the day before. Windemere’s stupidity, Abby’s brilliance. The nature of genius.

Gordon’s proud grin as he realised Virgil was V. T. Green.

He smiled, a fondness for his younger brother swelling in his gut.

But those thoughts returned his mind to the situation with his website, Brains and what the hell he was going to do about it all.

Yesterday had shouted all kinds of issues at him. So many examples of genius and stupidity and the abuse of knowledge and power. He pursed his lips.

Reaching for his tablet, he brought up his blog, only to find his inbox once again bursting at the seams with notifications.

Quiet words under his breath.

A decision and he flicked through his dashboard until he found what he was looking for.

He swallowed and, with a touch of a finger, shut the website down.

Permanently.

-o-o-o-

End Part Five

Part Six

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy

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adelinadelmar-blog · 5 years

Photo

( kristine froseth, cis-female, she/her ) — - ̗̀ it was great seeing ADELINA DELMAR around barcelona today! the TWENTY year old is originally from perpignan, france but they’re here to study chemical engineering as a LOCAL STUDENT. i heard the SECOND YEAR got into barcelona university because they’re radiant, but some say they can also be insincere. no wonder people are starting to call them THE MISSIONARY.

When reflecting upon her childhood, Adelina can’t remember anything more than the warmth of her adoptive family’s love and the weight of a cross hanging firmly upon her neck. Graced with angelic features and doll like eyes, the Delmar’s were sure that Adelina was heaven sent. With God as their pillar, the Delmar’s were permanently knelt at their heavenly Father’s alter. The Delmar’s relationship with God ran deeper than the veins in Adelina’s body. Hours upon hours were dedicated to praying and spending time at the local church but with every holy breath Adelina took, she couldn’t help but feel wrong. Her parents described having a beautiful relationship with God but no matter how hard Adelina squeezed her eyes shut, she only found emptiness.

Adelina never mentioned her lack of belief, she could obviously see how much attending church meant to her parents, and she was so thankful to be apart of their lives. And so Adelina breezed through the sacraments of her church and excelled in every course in private religious schooling and she was on the track to attend a university in England. But just a few months before she was to leave for university, things took a turn for the worse. Adelina and her childhood best friend were drunkenly celebrating finishing their schooling when Adelina revealed she was thrilled to no longer have a religious obligation. Within the blink of an eye, it was the next morning and who Adelina considered to be her best friend informed the Delmar’s about Adelina’s drunken confession. With emotions high and a slight hangover, Adelina confessed her unholy truth. Her parents were more calm than she had ever seen them when they gave her two options; she could leave or she could attend Barcelona University and continue her studies as a chemical engineering student. She had no other options and so Little Adelina worked at church for the rest of the summer and when the time came she packed up her bags and relocated to the dorms in Barcelona.

With her aunt as a professor at the university, Adelina has been kept under a close eye for the past year. But quickly into her second semester of schooling Adelina discovered a new, raw passion of art. While attending the class, Adelina found herself challenged in way that she hadn’t ever been before. With this new found expression of her emotions, Adelina is torn knowing that she is unable to study her passion. Adelina can hide her art classes with the excuse of just completing her prerequisites but she isn’t how much longer that excuse will work before her aunt catches on and reports back to her parents.

Adelina’s parents act almost as if the whole ordeal never happened, but she sees a deep sadness within her mother’s eyes and disapproval within her father’s gaze. Her emotions have been thrown into overdrive after she overheard a conversation between her parents and her aunt; they were considering no longer financially supporting Adelina. With the stench of desperation following her every move, Adelina has organized a club for students looking to strengthen their relationship with God. But as the only steady member of the club, Adelina was ironical enough, praying for a miracle… until she found one, a group of thirty exchange students were coming to Barcelona. She would sweep a couple of the students under her wing and get them to join her religious club. Adelina would get them to fall in love with Barcelona and because she will have created a beautiful community, they’d never want to leave. As much as Adelina longs to be free and not have to go through the charades of convincing new students to join her religious club, she knows that she has no choice. A dainty cross presses against Adelina’s chest, pulsating with every heartbeat as a reminder that her chains are still bound.

PINTEREST BOARD;

hi i’m lili and i’m in the CST!

this is my lil child adelina/lina. adelina is a pisces sun, aquarius moon and cancer rising.

im going to be working on connections for adelina but currently there’s an open spot of adelina’s childhood best friend (local) who told her parents about adelina’s disbelief in god. this would entail some great angst of betrayal.

adelina needs friends but she’s also trying to save her ass by getting students to join her religious club in order to continue her time studying at BU. PM me if you want to plot bc i always want to plot!

#abroad.intro #biography

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butmomilovepeter · 5 years

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you taught me the courage of stars before you left

another one??? another one?????

There’s a boy on the screen. He’s handsome—in the teenager kind of way—and with soft brown eyes. But he looked young, too young to be showing up on the screen.

And why he was even on this screen, Steve didn’t know. It was made by FRIDAY for those in contact with...the Avengers? Or at least whatever they make up now.

So why is there a kid here?

Peter Parker

Missing

So not confirmed dead. Good. Whoever the kid was, he was definitely a kid, and going missing was better than...going.

But who—

“That’s Peter.” Rhodey’s voice startles him. Steve turns sharply on his heel to look the other man in the eye. He looks exhausted. Who wasn’t? But Steve guessed that having your best friend lost in space did a number on you.

“Who is he?” Steve asked. Rhodey shows somewhat of a smile before tapping on the screen again to show multiple pictures of the Peter kid. A better look showed him being very young, sixteen at most. There were a couple candids of him laughing, a few videos of him talking, but multiple with Tony in them.

And honestly? Steve had never seen Tony happier.

“The two of them…” Rhodey begins. “They had something. Did them both good. They had a cute little mentor/mentee thing going.”

When Rhodey senses Steve doesn’t really understand, he sighs and continues.

“Peter was a good kid. A genius. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone combined you and Tony’s dna to make him.” Rhodey chuckled a bit sadly. Steve returned with a smile.

“A reckless genius with a hero complex?” Steve inquired.

“Exactly.” Rhodey paused and the smile faltered. “Kid lost his parents really young. Lived with his aunt and uncle...until he was about 14. His uncle was shot one night.”

“Shot?” Steve asked with wide eyes. Rhodey nodded.

“Right in front of him. In some Queens alleyway. Tony says he still blames himself.” Rhodey’s voice was wispy.

And then it hit Steve.

“Is he Spider-Man?” Everything would make more sense if he was. Rhodey sighed before nodding.

“Before you go off on Tony for bringing a kid into this, he didn’t know until it was too late. The kid would have done it anyway. The day Ben Parker died changed him.”

“How old?”

“He would have turned 17 in August.” Rhodey’s voice caught in his throat a bit.

“Would have?” Steve wondered mournfully. Rhodey didn’t respond, instead changed the screen slowly to a different picture, this time of one of Peter and Tony both passed out at their respective lab stations, and by the look on Rhodey’s face, Steve figured he took it.

“Neither of them have great self preservation skills. The kid can go days without sleeping and doesn’t even realize. Tony says he gets nightmares a lot.”

“Nightmares?” Rhodey nodded again.

“It’s complicated. Peter got a building, sorta, uh, dropped on him. By his homecoming date’s dad.”

“He what?” Steve exclaimed. “A building?”

“Again, complicated. Kid just hasn’t really come back from it.”

“Not sure that’s a thing you can come back from.” Steve concluded, and Rhodey gave him a hum in response. Something faltered in Rhodey’s demeanor suddenly.

“Pepper got a message from Tony. He’s...we don’t know where he really is. We’ve got an idea but…”

Steve hated this feeling. He thought he had gotten somewhat over it (half the world dying isn’t something you completely get over), despite him missing Bucky late at night. When it’s too dark to see and his last words echo in his dreams.

He’s lost a lot of friends, too many friends.

And suddenly he realized, he couldn’t really afford to lose another. Despite everything that happened between him and Iron Man.

“His oxygen runs out tomorrow morning.” Rhodey’s voice truly broke for the first time. “Or maybe it already has, we don’t know when the message sent.”

“Jesus, Rhodes. We can’t lose him too.”

“You’re right.” Pepper’s voice spoke definitely from the doorway. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her hair a bit frizzled. “I haven’t been planning this wedding for a year for nothing.”

“Hey Pep.” Rhodey said softly. “How you holding up?”

“Been better.” She was a wreck, and rightfully so.

Steve begrudgingly rememberers the conversation he overheard last night.

“I can’t raise my kid without him, Rhodey. I just can’t!”

“We’ll find him, Pep. I promise.”

“Why didn’t I... tell him?”

“Pep, how could you have known?”

He had forgotten she was pregnant for a moment...and he doesn’t want Tony’s child to grow up without him either.

“We’ll get him back.” Steve says with shaky confidence, which earns him a grateful look in her eyes. Her eyes then trail to the screen, and more tears fall.

“Oh God.” She whispers. “Peter—he wasn’t—he wasn’t in the video.”

“Pep…” Rhodey seemed to have realized something as well.

“What? Should he have been?” Steve said, trying to read their faces.

“Yes. God, yes he should.” Pepper cried, hastily wiping fresh tears away.

“Steve,” Rhodey turned and faced Steve. “Peter went up with Tony.”

“Against Tony’s will.” Pepper supplied with a fond eye roll. “Rhodey...you know what that means.”

Steve did too.

Peter was dead.

He went up and didn’t come back down.

“What are we going to tell May?” Rhodey asked after a moment.

“What can we tell her?” Pepper replied tearfully.

“Is May his aunt?” Steve asked quietly. Pepper nodded.

“Basically his mother. Peter...Peter was all she had left.”

And then no one talks.

“I can go tell her. If you want.” Steve offers.

“No, it should be me,” Pepper said. “I’m her friend. And he was her baby.” She subconsciously rubbed her stomach. That’s her baby.

“I hate this.” Rhodey’s voice choked again, summing up just about everything Steve was thinking.

Buck, wherever you are, take care of the kid. Of Peter.

It’s the middle of the night when Carol Danvers comes to them and tells she can get them to Tony. Steve doesn’t hesitate when she makes them a portal to jump right through. There’s light for a moment before he sees the ship. He knows he’s followed by Rhodey and Bruce, but he’s the first one to see Tony. He’s obviously broken. Starving and pale, with tears evident down his cheeks.

“Tony!” Steve has to admit he missed the man. Tony doesn’t wait, he runs into Steve with minimal energy, but wraps his arms around him.

“Who’d you lose?” Steve already knows.

Tony takes a deep shaky breath.

“I lost my kid.” He sounds older.

And Steve doesn’t respond out loud, instead he kept the grip on the man he once thought was his enemy.

Rhodey follows suit, and when Steve lets go, Tony goes right into Rhodey’s arms.

I’m getting my friends back. I’m getting Sam, Wanda, all the Wakandans...Bucky. Especially Bucky.

And I’m getting Peter back. For Tony.

I can’t wait to meet this kid.

#peter parker #tony stark #mcu #infinity war #steve rogers #rhodey #irondad #spiderman #avengers endgame #avengers 4 #this is like #the other side of the one i wrote the other day

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curiousdamage · 5 years

Text

Drabble Prompt #13

49: “Who Hurt You?”

For @thatsweetbobbyfacetho

Fandom: Karate Kid Becca Verse

Pairing: Terry Silver/ Mikey Sullivan

Warnings: Use of period relevant homophobic slurs and attitude. These do not reflect my personal feelings. ****Violence to a person for being homosexual depicted*****

Summary: Mikey’s brothers aren’t happy to discover his relationship with Terry.

It was pouring down buckets of ice-cold rain. Suitable for a funeral, especially this one. He was still in a bit of shock. He still couldn't believe she was gone.

For such a tiny woman, his mother had always seemed so strong and indestructible. He looked down the line of his siblings. Nick was there in his uniform, as was Luke. They looked so closed off and cold. Did he use to look like that in his uniform?

Cara was next to their Dad in a plain black dress. She'd been so strong through all of this, taking care of the arrangements, tending to their Dad, keeping things running while waiting for her siblings to fly in from all over the country. She was so much like their mom.

Addy always thought she was, but she wasn’t nearly as strong as Cara or their mom. She was strong, sure, but she was too loud about it. Too look at me, while Cara never called attention to it. She just did what needed to be done, like Mom always had.

Addy and her husband Jack were next to him, both in their uniforms. And there he stood, in a rumpled suit and muddy shoes. He had left in such a hurry; he hadn't really packed well. DD was pressed against his side, looking fabulous as always. She squeezed his hand.

He lifted his head and looked at the gathered crowd. Aunts and Uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, service members. John was standing nearby with both twins wrapped around his waist, hiding their faces in his coat as he held an umbrella over them and one arm around them. Good on him for showing up. Cara needed some help, even if it was just with their girls.

Next to them was the face he was looking for. Terry was standing with Becca, holding a dark umbrella over them. At some point, he'd wrapped his overcoat around her thin shoulders. It was dragging in the mud, but he knew Terry didn't care. If Princess was happy, he was happy.

He caught his eye and Terry nodded ever so slightly, so slight that no one else would even notice. It was then that the ridiculousness of the situation struck him. There he was, wrapped in the arms of a very married woman and his family could accept, even encourage that, but he couldn't even acknowledge the man in front of him.

Don't look too long. Shake hands but don't linger. Laugh but don't smile. Never let anyone know. His last conversation with his mother had been her lamenting that it was time for him to settle down and find someone to grow old with. Stop running around chasing models with that silly friend of his.

Terry.

He couldn't tell her that he and Terry had never really been chasing models, they'd just been too stupid to admit they were chasing each other. She would have never understood. He didn't want to think about what the rest of his family would think. They were strictly, traditionally Catholic, sometimes he was pretty sure they would see his very existence a sin.

He knew his brothers. If they knew he was, well, what he was, they'd kill him. It was bad enough to them that Cara had been an unwed mother and was now divorced. Nothing like having a queer for a little brother to complete the set.

Nick was sleeping with his unit's secretary. They had been cuddling in a back room at the wake for God and all to see, especially Nick’s wife. Luke was an alcoholic that put the rest of them to shame. Addy and Jack's oldest was one of those nine-pound preemies, but he and Cara were the bad kids. This was so ridiculous.

He flinched at the sound of Taps. Thank goodness this debacle was almost over.

Deidre snaked her arm around his shoulders. "I’ve got you," she whispered. He squeezed her hand. He hated this song. He hated it so much. It was so finalizing. And he couldn’t cry because the Sullivans are good little soldiers and good little soldiers don’t cry.

"Come with Terry and me when we leave. It'll give you a few minutes to relax," she whispered, again. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. Chuckling to himself at the sheer hypocrisy that his brothers and Dad would rather see him kiss a married woman than the man who loved him.

"Thanks, DD. You're an angel, like always," he whispered. And she had been. It had been her idea to have Terry fly up to Stanford to get Becca and fly her out to Virginia. He couldn't be there for Mikey, but no one batted an eye that Becca's godfather had flown her out and back. It was stupid, really. And he was the worst because he was letting them get away with it.

------

Deidre was a genius. It was just thirty minutes from Arlington cemetery to his parent’s home, but it was enough. Sitting between the two people he loved most had recharged him. A cup of coffee and a few cigarettes later, and he could deal with his family for the rest of the evening.

Shake hands. Smile kindly at the words of sympathy. Listen to another old story. Rinse. Repeat. If one more person asked him what he’s been doing since he'd left the Army he’d scream. It had been four years.

All too soon, he saw Terry tap Becca on the shoulder and whisper something in her ear. He guessed it was time for them to go. Becca was in the middle of finals and had to be back the next morning to finish them. If it hadn’t been for Terry flying her down in his plane, she wouldn’t have gotten to come. Commercial flights put her either missing the funeral or her last two finals.

“Want to grab a smoke before you go?” he asked, walking over to him.

“Sure thing,” he said, flashing that smile that still had the power to make Mikey senseless.

“Come on.” He led him outside to a small garden. Once they were far enough from the house, both to smoke and to not be overheard, he stopped.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, taking out a cigarette, just to have something to do with hands that wanted to reach out for the other man.

“What else was I going to do?”

Mikey shrugged, letting his head fall back against the garden fence.

“You look tired. Why don’t you come home with DD and I now?” he asked.

“I’m okay. I got a flight out tomorrow. I figure I’ll stay tonight. Help Cara clean up after everyone leaves. John’s taking the twins with him, so I don’t want her to be alone,” he said. “She might need some help with Dad. It’s been stressful on him.”

“How’s he doing?”

The General had a heart attack a few years before that had left him with declining health. He still got around on his own, but Cara came over at least once a week to make sure he was taking his medications and everything was well.

“He’s just tired. He never expected to outlive Mom. I don’t think he’d even considered the possibility. Hell, knowing him, he’d ordered her to outlive him,” he laughed, lightly.

“Let me pick you up tomorrow.”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “It’ll be late. I’ll probably just go home and crash.”

“Well, if you’re sure?”

The two men turned to face each other.

“Yeah, it’s just a few more hours of family togetherness, then we can go back to ignoring each other,” he smiled.

“Power through,” Terry laughed.

“Yeah.” With his cigarette gone, he reached out to touch Terry, straightening his tie, his hands lingering as they slid down his chest. “There. Now Margaret won’t harass you about looking disheveled.”

“Me? You look like you slept in that suit.”

“You’re not supposed to do that?” he teased.

“There are better ways to sleep,” Terry shot back, smiling that smile again.

He laughed, his eyes sweeping over his boyfriend’s frame. “You’d know all about that. I’ll see you on Wednesday?”

“For sure.” With one last look at Mikey, Terry walked back towards the house. Mikey waited a moment or two before following him.

A figure stepped out of the shadows, having gone out to smoke a few minutes before Terry and Mikey.

“Fucking disgusting,” Jack muttered to himself, shaking his head. “I always knew Mikey was a fucking fag.”

————

Nick was in the front yard, speaking to everyone as they left. He was the oldest. It made sense for him to speak for the family.

He saw Becca and her godfather, Terry, he thought his name was. He’d seen him a few times through the years at Becca’s events, and Mikey’s girlfriend leaving. He didn’t care what those two said, they were definitely a couple.

He walked over to greet them.

"Are you sure you can't stay and visit with Grandpa longer?" he asked her. "I know he'd love to spend some more time with you. He tells everyone about his granddaughter at Stanford. I don't think he'd be prouder if you had gotten into West Point."

"Well, I don't know about that," she smiled. "He's still pulling for one of us to play in the Army-Navy game."

Nick laughed at that. "Honey, those Navy boys wouldn't stand a chance against you." He hugged her before turning to Terry, "Thank you for getting her out here. It was bothering the old man that she wasn't going to be here."

“No problem. I'm happy I could help her,” he replied, shaking Nick's outstretched hand before leading Becca to a waiting car.

“Why are you thanking that queer for shit?" Jack asked as he and Luke joined Nick.

"What are you talking about?" Nick asked. "Silver ain't a queer. He was a Cobra Kai Green Beret."

“I don't give a rat's ass what he was. I'm telling you what he is. He's a fucking homo and he's fucking your brother," Jack snapped.

"You better watch your filthy mouth," Nick warned. "This is my mother's funeral. I don't want to have to kick your ass now."

"I saw them together," he insisted, "They were out back, and they weren't acting like no Army buddies I have."

Nick looked around and grabbed both men by the upper arms and dragged them into the garage. Making sure all the doors were shut, he turned back to his brother-in-law.

“Now, you want to make this claim, you'd better tell us exactly what you saw.”

"They were in the backyard, smoking and talking about seeing each other later," he said. "Then Mikey fixed Silver's tie and was running his hands all over him." Seeing his brothers-in-law weren't convinced he continued, "Look it's not just what they were doing, it was how they were doing it, how they were looking at each other. I mean, trust me. Something's going on with them."

They were quiet for a while before Luke spoke.

"Nick, you know we've always kind of known he was a little light in the loafers with girls. I mean look how long he’s known Deidre and they’ve never…," he shrugged helplessly.

"Yeah. I guess you're right," he conceded. "But not being serious with girls doesn't mean he's screwing some guy. You're going to have to show me more proof before we do anything else."

“I'll get your proof" Jack promised.

"What about John?" Luke asked, "Should we let him in on this? He knows the guy better than anyone."

"No. This is a family matter and he ain’t family anymore," Nick said. “No one tells him anything. Whatever this guy may or may not be now, he was a Cobra Kai and John takes that shit seriously."

Three weeks later, Nick had his proof.

------

Mikey was getting ready to leave his condo. He had two lessons this morning, then he had volunteered for the air ambulance that afternoon. and he was meeting DD, Peter, and Michaela for lunch in between and

Terry for dinner. He had just thrown the last of his things in his flight bag and was looking for his shades when he heard someone knocking on his door.

He was cautious when he saw his brothers and Jack on the other side, but he managed to hide it.

“Hey, guys. What are you doing here?” He stepped back to let them in.

“We need to talk,” Nick said.

“Why? What’s wrong? Is it Dad?” he asked, concerned.

“No, it’s not Dad. Dad is fine,” Luke said. He rubbed his neck. This wasn’t really his scene. Nick was supposed to do most of the talking.

“We know about what you’re doing,” Nick said. “We know all about you and Silver.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Mickey,” Nick pleaded. “We have proof. Don’t make us do this to you.”

“Proof of what?” Mikey’s blood ran cold. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Proof that you’re a fucking faggot,” Jack snapped, slapping an envelope against his chest. “That’s what the fuck we’re talking about, Asshole.”

He opened it and glanced at the photographs inside, feeling sick.

“You had me followed? Why would you do that?” He was confused and hurt.

“Because, after the funeral, we had to know,” Luke answered. “We had to know if our baby brother is a goddamned cocksucker! I can’t…, I can’t even look at you now.”

Mikey looked from one man to the other to the other. His brothers. His blood. He took an almost involuntary step back.

“Get the fuck out of my house!”

“Be reasonable, Mike,” Nick said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You know you have to stop this. It’ll kill Dad if he finds out. You don’t want to hurt Dad, do you?”

“I said for you to get the fuck out of my house,” he snarled, slapping Nick’s hand away. “My personal business is mine. Leave!”

“I told you all the faggot wasn’t going to be reasonable,” Jack scoffed.

He took a step forward. Mikey swung at him instinctively. His fist connected with Jack’s chin, knocking him back a few steps, but Luke caught him pinning his arms behind him as Nick punched him in the stomach. Mikey fought them off as long as he could, but he fought fair and three on one was never meant to be a fair fight. Too soon he was on the floor while they took turns hitting, kicking, and punching him.

“Okay! Okay!" Nick shouted, stopping the other two. "He's had enough, we don't want to kill him. He’s still our brother and he’s had enough."

Before leaving Nick knelt down beside him. "Mikey, Buddy?" His voice was soft, the way it had been when they were kids. "You know we did this

for your own good, right?" He brushed the hair back from Mikey’s face tenderly. "Break things off with Silver and come home to Virginia, okay? We're you're family. We love you, Silver doesn't. He's just using you until the next woman comes along. Think about it, okay?" He leaned down and kissed his temple. Mikey thought he was going to be sick.

After they left, he tried to get up. On the third attempt, he decided the floor was just fine. He laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling. All those years, all the forfeited happiness, so careful, so cautious, and it was his own brothers. His own damn brothers.

-----

Five hours later, Mikey was late for lunch. Once DD had called the airfield and found out that Mikey had never come in, she rushed to his condo.

After getting no response to repeatedly banging on the door, she used her key to let herself in.

"Mikey, rise and shine, Babe," she called, heading towards the bedroom.

Peter caught her arm and stopped her. He motioned to Mikey's feet visible on the other side of the sofa.

"Michaela, get out of here," he demanded. "Wait for us in the hall,"

"But Daddy…,”

“Now, Honey," he answered. "Mom and I will take care of Uncle Mikey, but you need to wait outside."

“Yes, sir."

"Mikey?!" DD knelt beside him. "Mikey, honey? Oh, God. What happened?"

Peter knelt beside him and felt for a pulse.

"Is he?" she asked.

"He has a pulse. It's weak, but it’s there," he replied. “I'm going to call for an ambulance. You keep trying to wake him."

"Mikey! Mikey, sweetheart, you're going to be fine," she cried. "Wake up, Darling. Please wake up."

It seemed to take too long for the paramedics to get them to DD. She'd sat on the floor, holding his hand, alternately telling him it was going to be okay and begging him to wake up. It wasn't until he had been loaded into an ambulance that she remembered.

"Terry! I have to call Terry. He,…, Oh God."

Peter put a hand over hers on the phone on the counter. "DD, I hate to even ask this, but is it possible that Terry did this? I mean, it’s obvious that he let his attacker in. Maybe Terry is the last person

who needs to be with him now."

Deidre considered this. "Could he? From what I've been told, absolutely. Would he? Never. But God help the fool who did."

-----

Mikey was awake by the time Terry made it to the hospital. His fist clenched in rage at the sight of his lover's beaten and bruised body and face. He swallowed his anger and forced himself to walk over to the bed softly.

"Mickey? What happened? Who hurt you?" He reached out and touched his cheek.

Mikey flinched and pulled away from his touch.

"Don't you touch me," he snapped. When he looked up, Terry could see it. The man he'd known even just this morning was gone, locked again behind that wall of pain and shame and fear that he’d spent the last sixteen years taking down one brick at a time.

Buttoned and buckled up. Untouchable. Unreachable.

The man who had loved him through the lowest point in his life, who had

helped him let go of the guilt of simply surviving, who had never given up on him no matter how much of a bastard he'd become, was gone, leaving Daddy's perfect little soldier in his place again.

"Don't do this, Mikey," he pleaded. "Don't go back there."

"Do you think I ever really left?" He questioned, before his anger at the situation boiled over. "God! You are such an overgrown child! Did you really think we could ever be anything? I had it right and I should have never let you in, to begin with. It's over, Terry. I don't want you anymore. Please leave."

"Mickey, please! Mickey, don't, please don't do this,” Terry whispered, not trusting himself not to shout.

"Go! Get out!"

"I'll go," Terry said, quietly. "I'll leave. Just tell me who did this? Who hurt you?"

Mikey shook his head and looked away. "Goodbye, Terry."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he muttered. "Goodbye, Mikey."

He turned and left the room.

DD looked up when he came back to the waiting room.

"Terry? What is it? Why are you out here?"

"Everything is fine, or as fine as it can be. He just doesn’t want me here," he answered.

“Oh, Terry," She put her hand on his arm. “You know it’s just because he's hurting and scared. Give him time to process it all.”

"Yeah, I know."

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"I'm going to find who did this and make them pay."

The look in his eyes worried her. She wasn't sure if she should hand over the envelope, finally deciding that withholding it would only delay him getting the information he wanted. Not stop him.

"Here. I found this at his place. I took it because I knew he wouldn't want anyone else seeing it, but I think you need to."

He thumbed through the photos, coming to a slip of paper at the end.

"Here's the information you wanted, Sarge. I'm sorry it wasn't better news."

His jaw clenched. He should have known Mikey's family was behind this. He nodded and stuck the envelope in his pocket, "Take care of him, DD. You're probably the only person that he'll ever let near him again."

------

Seven hours later, Terry was in Virginia.

It took three days for him to track them down when they were alone. He caught them outside of a bar.

“What do you want, Faggot?” Jack swore when Terry stepped out of his car.

“Shut the fuck up!” Terry grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling him to him, then throwing him against a nearby car with a sickening thud. “You all don’t talk. You listen and maybe you’ll live. Mikey could have killed you. He didn’t have to take that beating you gave him, but he loves you too much to hurt you. To hurt your wives and your children. You should thank whatever gods you pray to that I wasn’t there. I don’t give two fucks for any one of you. You all think you’re big men? You’re nothing. You’re pussies. Fucking little maggots. If you ever so much as look sideways at Mikey again, I’ll ruin your shitty little lives. I’ll bring ever skeleton you’ve ever buried out to play and dance with them in front of your father, wives, children, God, and the whole damned world. Mikey will look like a damn Saint when I’m finished with you all. And if you ever even think of putting your goddamn hands on him again, I’ll kill you all with my bare hands. Do not fuck with me. You won’t win.”

----

John had just dropped off the twins and was having a smoke on the Sullivans’ porch with Cara when they got back to their father’s home.

Seeing them coming up the walk, Cara patted his leg and kissed him on the cheek before going to check on her father.

“So you all are the ones who put Mike in the hospital,” John said, taking a drag from his cigar and exhaling slowly. “That tracks.”

“Mind your own damn business, John,” Nick warned. “This is family business and you aren’t family even if you do manage to talk your way back into Cara’s bed.”

“Maybe not,” John conceded. He held up his cigar, studying it for a minute. “You know, in all the years I was in the Army and teaching karate, there were only three men that I was ever scared about what they could do with the skills I was teaching them if pushed far enough. One is in Leavenworth for murdering a fellow soldier. The second one is in Lompoc for beating a guy into a coma for screwing his girlfriend.” He stopped and took another drag from his cigar, blowing the smoke towards them. “And you all just made an enemy of the third. Whatever it was that he told you, it wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.” He stood up and pushed past them, turning back at the steps and smiling in that way he had that looked like an animal baring its teeth before an attack. “Have fun with that. Goodnight, Gentlemen.” He made a mock salute before leaving.

#fluff/angst prompt #angst #Merry #careless man's careful daughter #Chocolate caramels and Bourbon

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retschina · 5 years

Text

Marriage preparatory course, Part 2

Arthur Shelby/OC

Part 1: https://retschina.tumblr.com/post/180350967093/marriage-preparatory-course

It was during the first week of October, on a cloudy and chilly evening, when he found himself in the foyer of a movie theatre, having a date with Adele Woodman, a girl with absolutely no interest in anything but sex – a truly great cocksucker and an uncomplicated fuck. A little smile tugged on his lips while he kept his eyes straight on the door of the ladies restroom, waiting for his little cocksucker to come out again.

“Father Callum was actually 68 years old. He was well-fed, very old-fashioned and most notably shot and killed on the morning you talked to me about my wedding night and tried to make me leave my fiancé.”

Arthur flinched, looked to the left and couldn’t help but smile. Maud Armstrong.

“After we learned about his death the following day I thought that you’d killed him.” She stated and gave him a disapproving glance. “Andrew was very upset because I ... I discussed very intimate things with the man who’d killed Father Callum. And ... I nearly broke down, because of fear and panic. Retroactive, so to say.

“I didn’t kill him. We found him dead,” Arthur answered and she nodded: “I know. They arrested two young boys from Smethwick for murder with robbery. They’ve found a few silver goblets and the collection box of St. Peter in their homes.”

She cocked her head and watched him with that prompting look she’d given him on this memorable morning in May.

“I’ve heard about it. So ... did my advices worked out?” He then asked and, after a last look to the still closed restroom door, turned around to face her. “Did you leave that old-fashioned fiancé of yours, this bloke who don’t want his wife to feel lust and fulfill her duties with joy?”

“I ... I did. You ... I hate to say it but you were right.” She made a face and Arthur felt a wave of relief pulsing through his body.

“I’m always right.”

“I see,” she said with a smile. “And by the way – what’s the name of the man who’s always right? It’s not Father Callum, that’s all I know.”

“Arthur Shelby. Always at your service, Miss Armstrong.” Arthur answered and gave her a broad smile.

She didn’t answer for a few seconds, and Arthur took a deep breath, before he looked her in the eyes, returning her intensive gaze.

“I liked talking to you. Back then, in church.” She stated, so low that he was forced to come a bit closer to be able to hear her. “I wish we could’ve talked longer.”

“So do I,” Arthur answered and the smile on her face seemed to lighten up his whole existence.

She was ... she must be a kind of witch, making him feel things he never felt before. Lighten up his whole existence – what kind of fucking bullshit was that, holy mother of god? But this was what he felt, what he thought. And he was hooked in an instant. The first contact with Maud’s charm, back then in the middle aisle of St. Peter, got him hooked. The second contact, right know, made an addict of him. He fell under her spell and was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

White linen, raindrops on the windows, a fireplace radiating warmth and light, peace in his mind and his soul, his body next to hers, over hers, under hers, skin on skin. Nose to nose, chest to chest. Delicate fingers roaming over the freckles on his shoulders, pausing in the second he enters her, slowly, nice and easy.

“Arthur ...,” she’d sigh and he’d sink deeper, until he’d be balls deep in the warmth and coziness that’s incomparable with any other warmth in the world.

“’M here,” he’d whisper, and exactly that he would be: There, with her, only the two of them, no room for the war, for Tommy, for Billy Kimber, the races, the whiskey, Tokyo, money, for blood, pain and misery.

Pull yourself together, goddammit, Arthur Shelby, he thought, pushed the pictures in his head aside, but not without memorizing them for later, for the darkness of his room. He tried to concentrate on the conversation, to come back to topic: “I guess you never finished this ... what do they call it?”

“Marriage preparatory course,” Maud answered and nodded: “I didn’t finish, no. Father Callum was dead and his imitation was vanished into thin air. Until today.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur answered and cleared his throat: “Tomorrow, at five, Bellham’s Teahouse at Chesham Lane? They serve the best malt bread in town.”

“I’ll be there,” Maud answered. “Have a nice evening, Mr. Shelby.”

“Thank you. You too. Will I see you after the movie?” He asked and nodded to the auditorium.

“Oh, I’m not here for the movies. I was on my way home when I spotted you through the window.” She answered and pointed to the entrance.

“I see. Have a good way home then. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.” Arthur answered and she gave him a last smile before she turned around and left.

He took a deep breath and looked to the restroom door, still no Adele in sight. Fuck. Whatever she did in there, he’d lost any interest in her. The lips he truly wanted on his cock weren’t hers. Forget Adele, he told himself, and left the movie theatre without looking back. Adele would find another cock to suck.

The next day, he was as nervous as on the evening he’d lost his virginity to Anna McRae, a mousy girl from the neighborhood, barely able to look him in the eyes. It had been hasty and short and, looking retrospectively at this fugacious encounter, pretty embarrassing. He’d lasted about twenty seconds, before he shot his load into the condom he’d stolen out of the nightstand of his father. He hadn’t cared about Anna’s pleasure for a single second, he hadn’t even known that women are absolutely able to have an orgasm. He’d been told, just like Maud, that fucking was his right as a man, that women were here on this earth to care for him, to give him pleasure and to bear his children. He’d been taught that he could have any woman he wanted, he just had to take what he longed for.

He heard the voice in his head while he waited for Maud to arrive at the Teahouse.

“This, boy, is a condom. You use it if you don’t want her to be with child. You can fuck her mouth or her ass too if you don’t want to get her pregnant, but if you long for her pussy, use this. If she’s complaining while you use her, tell her she shall the fuck shut up, Arthur. If she goes on, a few slaps in the face will do the job, silencing her. If she cries and you don’t like it, give her a real reason to cry. Next time she’s gonna pull herself together, you’ll see. If she denies the access to whatever hole you want to fuck, I recommend the belt or the cane. They learn fast, Arthur, but you have to be stern and strict, until she knows her place and how to behave in your presence. Don’t get fooled by her tears or her begging for mercy. She’ll walk all over you if you’re soft.”

He lived by this for a year or two, until the day Tommy was about to lose his virginity and they’ve had a talk among brothers. Polly overheard the bullshit Arthur told Tommy and she was furious. She gave him hell, like no one gave him hell before. Sometimes he thought his ears were still ringing from the piece of her mind she gave him. He’d been so embarrassed he refused to talk to Polly for a whole month. He lived abstinently for about three months, thinking every day about the things his aunt had told him. Then he made a decision and went, for the first time in his life, to a whorehouse. He paid a beautiful woman – she’d been from the Orkneys – to teach him how to pleasure a women. And that she had. In a very long (and expensive) night she’d confirmed every detail of Polly’s speech. In the grey light of the morning he’d confessed that he’d always wondered why there were word like ‘caresses’, ‘endearment’, ‘gentleness’ and ‘tenderness’ when no one seemed to be tender, gentle and caring. A sad, heartbreaking smile had been the only answer he got.

The war ended the eagerness of doing the right and good things instead of pure, heartless fucking. He didn’t care about the whores he’d fucked. He wanted to forget, he wanted to relief stress, angst and the constant fear of death, just by feeling alive, fucking a girl in silence, his eyes on the wall, only eager to feel this tingle in his spine, announcing the orgasm. But now, with Maud in his fantasies, he wanted to go back on the way he’d first heard from Polly. The words “caresses”, “gentleness” and “tenderness” were back in his mind, in his fantasies. And he wanted to live them.

“Mr. Shelby,” Maud said and he looked up.

There she was, in all her beauty and her spell kicked in immediately.

“Miss Armstrong,” he answered and stood up, “please, take a seat.”

“Thank you.”

Only seconds later he ordered Cream Tea and a serving of the fabulous malt bread and watched her in silence.

“Mr. Shelby,” she started the conversation, “are you married?”

He shook his head and swallowed an inappropriate answer, something like ‘I waited for you my whole life’ or some other romantic and totally unduly bullshit. He had to leave, immediately. Otherwise he’d propose to her before the fucking Cream tea was served.

Part 3: https://retschina.tumblr.com/post/180579115153/marriage-preparatory-course-part-3

Part 4: https://retschina.tumblr.com/post/180712699093/marriage-preparatory-course-part-4

Part 5: https://retschina.tumblr.com/post/180885625713/marriage-preparatory-course-part-5

Part 6: https://retschina.tumblr.com/post/180981534258/marriage-preparatory-course-part-6

#Arthur Shelby #Arthur Shelby imagine #Arthur Shelby/OC #Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders fic #marriage #teatime #more love for Arthur #sfw

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indescribablechoices · 6 years

Text

Go Gentle (Damien x MC)

Pairing: Damien Nazario x MC (Kai Park)

Word Count: 1130

Listening Suggestion: Go Gentle - Robbie Williams

General Fic Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @kennaxval

Synopsis: I’ve been wracking my brain for days on how to fill tomorrow’s September Challenge prompt, and instead I wrote this. Kai receives a phone call from her children’s high school, listing off all of the trouble her son is in. She asks for an explanation from him and delves deeper than she planned. (General family fluff stuff). Masterlist.

“Miguel Adam Nazario, march your butt down here right now!”

Miguel let out a sigh to himself when he heard his mother’s voice. He knew from the tone that he was in trouble, there was no doubt about it. His mom was a strong believer in talking things out, so if he had ever done something wrong, she would come to his room and they were sit on his bed and talk things through. So if she was calling him downstairs; she was pissed.

He headed out of his room, running a hand through his mess of dark hair as he went. He found his mom waiting for him in the kitchen, arms folded across her chest. At nearly seventeen, he towered over her short figure, but just the cock of her eyebrow had a way of making him feel seven again.

“Do you want to explain to me why I just had a call from your school?” she asked.

Oh shit. He was really in trouble.

“What did they have to say?” he asked, trying to keep his face neutral. He was lucky his dad wasn’t here, there was no way he’d be able to deceive him for longer than about three seconds.

“Apparently you’ve been pestering teachers about irrelevant things, caught trespassing in private areas of the school at all hours of the day, and there’s evidence of hacking of the school’s private files,” she told him.

“There’s no way they can prove the hacking was me,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

Her eyebrows raised, “What the hell were you doing hacking your school’s computer system, Miguel? And where did you even learn to do that? You’re sixteen for god’s sake.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Aunt Sloane taught me.”

“Sloane…” Kai let out a sigh, putting a hand over her face before she looked back at her son, “You’d better start doing some explaining, kid.”

“Okay,” he said, “I know this looks bad, but I promise you it’s for a good cause.”

She let out a hard laugh, “Oh this should be entertaining.”

“Rumours started going around about budget cuts at the school, like seriously dangerous budget cuts with health and safety in and the food in the canteen, and so many of the good teachers are getting fired and replaced by cheaper, more complacent ones. So we started to investigate.”

“We?” she asked.

“Yeah, me and Nina. She was going to write a full exposé and post it online.”

Her head snapped back towards the stairs, “Nina Isabella Nazario, get your butt down here!”

A few seconds passed and the slumping footsteps of Miguel’s little sister approached to join them. Nina immediately scowled at her brother, “I can’t believe you snitched on me.”

“I can’t believe the two of you are investigating your school,” Kai sighed, “If what you’re saying is true, I don’t doubt your intentions but Miguel you’re applying to colleges. You can’t have anything like this on your record if this doesn’t go to plan.”

“It’s no different than you were doing at our age,” Nina pointed out.

“Thank you for thinking I’m younger than I am, but at your age I was working my ass off to get into college,” Kai told them, “And so was your dad.”

“What was dad doing?” Damien’s voice asked, having come in the front door from work and overheard the conversation.

“Damien, our children have taken it upon themselves to try and expose the school for apparent gross negligence,” Kai glanced around at her husband, “Miguel got himself caught breaking into private school property and hacking computers.”

He slid his coat off and threw it over the back of the couch, coming to stand beside his wife.

“Well this just can’t stand,” he said, “Where did we go wrong in our parenting?”

Miguel and Nina glanced at each other, guilt suddenly crossing both of their faces for the first time that evening.

Kai let out a sigh, gesturing to the pair of them, “You would think that any children of ours would know that if they were going to go sleuthing around; not to get caught.”

Nina frowned, “Wait, what?”

Kai and Damien exchanged a look and smiles crossed both of their faces as Damien rolled his eyes, “Your mom called me at work to tell me what was going on before she spoke to you. We aren’t mad about what you’re doing. Hell, you know exactly what we got up to when we were younger. But…” he stepped up and put a hand of each of his children’s shoulders, “We want you both to be smart about this. You’re young and have your entire futures ahead of you. I don’t want you to throw that away by making any stupid mistakes.”

He pulled them both in closer and kissed the top of their dark hair.

“Sorry Dad,” Nina said, “Sorry Mom… We just wanted to be like you guys; bringing down the corrupt system and making the world a better place.”

Kai let out a soft breath, looking at Damien. If only their children understood what they had nearly truly lost in their campaign against Eros. She glanced back at her daughter, “It’s an admirable goal, but we had no choice in what we did. You do. Never forget that.”

Nina nodded, stepping into her mom’s arms as she hugged her, “I won’t.”

Miguel ran a hand through his hair, looking at his dad, “Look, I…”

“There’s no need for further explanations, I get it, kid,” Damien offered him a warm smile, “But you have to be careful.”

“I know,” Miguel said, “And believe me, this isn’t something I’m doing for a cheap thrill. This is something I want to do. I want to be a detective; like you.”

Damien felt a kick of pride in his chest as he looked at his son, “Oh.”

Miguel let out a soft laugh at the look on his dad’s face, “Don’t go getting soppy on me, old man.”

Damien wrapped an arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair, “Less of the ‘old man’.”

Miguel twisted his body to slip out of the light grip, “You’re going to have to be quicker than that to keep up.”

“Alright you two,” Kai laughed, “Now come on, let’s go get some fast food and we can tell you how to really avoid getting caught.”

They all grabbed their coats, Damien glancing at his family as they left, “Have I ever told you about the time your mom proposed to me with McDonalds?”

“That is not what happened, Nazario,” Kai snorted with laughter.

“Hey, is this my story or not?” he smirked, leaning down to kiss her.

“Gross,” Nina complained, “Tell the story in the car. This girl needs some nuggets and vigilante justice advice.”

They piled out of the house, all laughing as they went.

#perfect match #damien x mc #damien nazario #kai park #today's episode made me sad because I miss my man so have some future fluff #writing

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anastpaul · 6 years

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Saint of the Day – 11 April – St Gemma Galgani (1878-1903) known as The Flower of Lucca, The Virgin of Lucca and Daughter of the Passion – Stigmatist & Mystic – born on 12 March 1878 at Borgo Nuovo di Camigliano, Lucca, Tuscany, Italy and died on Holy Saturday, 11 April 1903 at Borgo Nuovo di Camigliano, Lucca, Italy of tuberculosis. Her relics interred in the Passionist monastery, Lucca. Patronages – Students, Pharmacists, Paratroopers and Parachutists, loss of parents, those suffering back injury or back pain, those suffering with headaches/migraines, those struggling with temptations to impurity and those seeking purity of heart. Attributes – Passionist robe, flowers (lilies and roses), guardian angel, stigmata, heavenward gaze.

Gemma Galgani was born on 12 March 1878, in a small Italian town near Lucca. Gemma is the Italian word for gem. The child’s mother was worried that this name was not a saint’s name but a priest friend comforted her with the remark that perhaps the child would one day be a “gem of Paradise.”

At a very young age, Gemma developed a love for prayer. She credited her mother, who died when Gemma was very young, with inspiring in her the desire for Heaven and with teaching her about God. Gemma made her First Communion on 17 June 1887. Later, she wrote, “It is impossible for me to describe what passed between Jesus and myself in that moment. He made himself felt so strongly in my soul. I realised in that moment how the delights of Heaven are not like those of the earth and I was seized by a desire to make that union with my God everlasting.”

As a day pupil at the school run by the Sisters of St Zita, Gemma was loved by her teachers and her fellow pupils. Although quiet and reserved, she always had a friendly smile for everyone. Though by nature a bright and lively child, she exercised great self discipline even as a schoolgirl, keeping her feelings under control. The superior of the sisters at the school once asked Gemma’s teacher and her class to pray for a dying man who refused the Sacraments. After the prayer, Gemma arose from her seat and going up to her teacher, whispered in her ear, “The grace is granted.” That evening the news as brought that the man had indeed converted and received the consolations of the Faith before his death.

Throughout her life, Gemma was to be favoured with many mystical experiences and special graces. Often these were misunderstood by others, bringing ridicule. A sensitive person, Gemma suffered these heartaches, too, in reparation, remembering that Our Lord Himself had been misunderstood and ridiculed.

Although she was a good student, Gemma had to quit school due to chronic ill heath before completing the course of study. Throughout her life, her frail constitution did not stand up well to several illnesses.

Gemma’s father had been a moderately successful pharmacist. But because of his generosity and his willingness to extend credit to those in need, he began to get into financial trouble. His death in 1897 left Gemma and his other children penniless orphans. Gemma felt the loss of her father keenly but did not appear to be bothered by the poverty of her circumstances. She must have felt desolate when the creditors came and took away the few possessions left to the family on the very day of her father’s funeral but she maintained her cheerful, patient attitude.

Gemma had an immense love for the poor and when she went out, many poor people came to her for help. When she could, she gave them things from home. Later, when she too was a “povera,” or poor girl, she gave them the gift of friendship. She would weep over their misfortunes, completely ignoring her own.

After her father’s death, the nineteen-year-old Gemma became the mother of her seven brothers and sisters. When some were old enough to share this responsibility, she lived briefly with a married aunt. Although she returned the love given by this aunt and uncle, Gemma was unhappy with the busy social life of the couple. They were well off and wanted Gemma to join in the fun which they could afford to provide. At this time, two young men proposed marriage to her. Gemma, however, wanted silence and retirement and more than ever she desired to pray and speak only to God.

Gemma returned home and almost immediately became very ill with meningitis. Gradually she lost her hearing and some of her hair. In addition, she suffered a complete paralysis of her limbs. All earthly remedies proved vain and Gemma was confined to bed for more than a year. Throughout this illness, her one regret was the trouble she caused her relatives in taking care of her. News of the heroic patience of the gentle girl spread about the town and many visitors came to cheer her up. For each visitor, Gemma had a smile and a welcoming comment.

Feeling herself tempted by the devil, she prayed for help to the Venerable Passionist, Gabriel Possenti. (Gabriel was later canonised.) He appeared to her in dreams several times, promising her help and calling her “sister.” Through his intercession, Gemma was miraculously cured. In one of her visions of Gabriel, he placed the badge of the Passionists on Gemma. When she spoke of her desire to enter a convent, he told her to make her vow to be a religious but not to add anything to this vow. Gabriel was telling her that although she might live the life of a nun, she would never enter any particular convent. Later, Gemma was rejected as a candidate for the religious life on the grounds of her health was too delicate. She offered this disappointment to God as a sacrifice.

Gifted with an ability for prophecy, Gemma predicted that the Passionists would establish a monastery at Lucca; this came to pass two years after her death. When she understood that she would not be able to enter a Passionist monastery, Gemma said, “The Passionists did not wish to receive me; nevertheless, because I wish to stay with them, I shall when I am dead.” Today, Gemma’s mortal remains are still treasured at the Passionist monastery in Lucca.

On the 8 June, 1899, Gemma had an interior warning that some unusual grace was to be granted to her. She spoke of this to her confessor and received absolution. She later gave the following account to her spiritual director: “It was Thursday evening, and suddenly I felt an inward sorrow for my sins; but so intense that I have never felt the like again; my sorrow made me feel as if I should die then and there. After that I felt all the powers of my soul in recollection. My intellect seemed to know nothing but my sins and how they offended God . . . Then thoughts crowded thickly within me and they were thoughts of sorrow, love, fear, hope and comfort.”

In rapture, she saw her heavenly Mother, who wrapped Gemma in her mantle. At that moment, according to her own account, “Jesus appeared with His wounds all open; blood was not flowing from them but flames of fire which in one moment came and touched my hands, feet and heart. I felt I was dying and should have fallen down but for my Mother who supported me and kept me under her cloak. Thus I remained for several hours. Then my Mother kissed my forehead, the vision disappeared and I found myself on my knees; but I had still a keen pain in my hands, feet and heart. I got up to get into bed and I saw that blood was coming from the places where I had the pain. I covered them as well as I could and then, helped by my Guardian Angel, got into bed.”

The next day, covering her hands with gloves, Gemma attended Mass as usual. Later, she showed the marks of the stigmata to one of her aunts, saying, “Just look at what Jesus has done to me!”

Each Thursday evening, Gemma would fall into rapture and the marks would appear. The stigmata remained until Friday afternoon or Saturday morning when the bleeding would stop, the wounds would close and only white marks would remain in place of the deep gashes. Later, one of Gemma’s directors turned to science and had a doctor examine the stigmata. As Gemma had foreseen, the doctor considered them a manifestation of some form of disease, or the delusions of an overly pious soul. Gemma’s stigmata continued to appear until the last three years before her death. At this time, her director forbade her to accept this phenomenon and through her prayers it ceased, although whitish marks remained on her skin until her death.

Through the help of her confessor, Gemma went to live with a family named Giannini, where she was allowed more freedom than at home for her spiritual life. She was very grateful to this adoptive family and was more than once overheard in ecstasy praying for its members. In this home, Gemma cheerfully did housework and helped in the training and education of the children.

There is a good record of Gemma’s words during ecstasy. In this state of rapture, the soul is so absorbed in God that the normal activity of the senses is suspended. Both her confessor and a relative of the head of her adoptive family, Aunt Cecilia, often overheard Gemma and recorded her conversations.

Father Germano once overheard her arguing with Divine Justice for the salvation of a soul. Some of her words were: “I do not seek Your justice, but for Your mercy. I know, he made You shed tears; but . . . You must not think of his sins; You must think of the Blood You shed. And now answer, Jesus and tell me You have saved my sinner.” Gemma actually named the man she was praying for. Soon afterwards, she broke out joyfully, “He is saved! You have won, Jesus; triumph always thus.” Then she came out of ecstasy.

Father Germano had just left the room when he heard a knock and was told that a stranger wished to speak to him. As soon as the man was before the priest, he fell to his knees weeping and said, “Father, I want to make my confession.” The priest was stunned to realise that it was Gemma’s sinner.

Gemma often saw her guardian angel, with whom she was on familiar terms. Sometimes the angel protected and consoled her, sometimes he counselled her and occasionally he scolded her very severely for her faults. He would say, “I am ashamed of you.” At times Gemma was heard arguing with her guardian angel, so that her spiritual director, Father Germano, had to remind her that she was speaking with a blessed spirit of Heaven and should be very respectful. The angel is mentioned on almost every single page of Gemma’s diary. In one entry, Gemma wrote that the devil had been raining down blows on her shoulder for nearly half an hour. “Then my guardian angel came and asked me what was the matter; I begged him to stay with me all night and he said: ‘But I must sleep.’ ‘No,’ I replied, ‘the Angels of Jesus do not sleep!’ ‘Nevertheless,’ he rejoined, smiling, ‘I ought to rest. Where shall you put me?’ I begged him to remain n ear me. I went to bed; after that he seemed to spread his wings and come over my head. In the morning he was still there.”

One of the most extraordinary things is the fact that Gemma often sent her guardian angel on errands, usually to deliver a letter or oral message to Father Germano in Rome. Often the reply was delivered by the priest’s guardian angel. Realising how unusual this was, Father Germano asked Heaven for a sign that it was in accord with God’s Will. After Gemma’s death, he wrote: “To how many tests didn’t I submit this singular phenomenon in order to convince myself that it took place through a supernatural intervention! And yet none of my tests ever failed; and thus I was convinced again and again that in this, like in many other extraordinary things in her life, Heaven was delighted in amusing itself, as it were, with this innocent and dear maiden.”

During the apostolic investigations into her life, all witnesses testified that there was no artfulness in Gemma’s manner. At the end of each of her ecstasies, she returned to normal and went quietly and serenely about the family life. Most of her severe penances and sacrifices were hidden from most who knew her. Only a few around her privileged to realise that she was exceptionally favoured.

In spite of everything which had happened to her, Gemma understood the true joy of her way of life. She said, “There is neither cross nor sorrow, when we are tightly united to Jesus.”

In January of 1903, Gemma was diagnosed as having tuberculosis. To avoid danger to her adoptive family, she was isolated in a small apartment close to the Giannini house. For four months Gemma suffered uncomplainingly from the disease. She died quietly, in the company of the parish priest, on 11 April. In his testimony he said, “I have been present at many deathbeds but never have I seen anyone die like Gemma, without even a precursor sign, nor a tear, nor a panting breath. She died with a smile which remained upon her lips, so that I could not convince myself that she was really dead.”

The Church authorities began to study Gemma’s life in 1917 and she was beatified in 1933. The decree approving the miracles for canonisation was read 26 March 1939—Passion Sunday. Gemma was canonised on 2 May 1940, only thirty-seven years after her death.

(via AnaStpaul – Breathing Catholic)

#stgemmagalgani #april11stgemmagalgani #catholic #catholicism

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