#Edit: I need to make this clear that im saying hes an uncle the way u might tell a kid that ur bestie is their uncle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

millllenniawrites · 3 years

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gold rush (Poe Dameron x Reader)

part two of dear love of mine

words: 2.6k

warnings: reader has a last name; regency au for the aesthetic but it’s historically inaccurate for the *vibes*; afab!reader; slow burn; sexual themes throughout; eventual smut; pining; awkwardness and slight secondhand embarrassment possible; everyone is unreliable; warnings will be added as the series progresses

a/n: WE’RE FINALLY GETTING INTO THE STORY IM SO EXCITED also we get a lot more Poe in this chapter which I hope you guys like!! as always, if you wanna be added to the taglist, there’s a link in my bio :)

You didn’t see General Dameron or Lord Barnes until dinner that night.

They’d been busy moving their things in. Two more carriages had arrived shortly after the men, but they were mostly carrying Lord Barnes’ staff. With the grandeur of his presence, you were surprised at how little his servants had to carry into your home.

It did make you happy to see that he was keeping those loyal to his father employed through the renovation of his home. You had discussed the very topic at length with Mister Kirk, who had informed you just how easily those servant jobs can be lost.

And how difficult it could be to regain them.

You couldn’t imagine not having your staff with you. Your Ladies Maid, Char, had been the only new edition to your household that you could remember since Siena had been born. You were one big family. They were paid, certainly, but family all the same. No one else had been around through grieving your father’s death. No uncles, no aunts. But the people that had looked after your family since before you were born had been there every step of the way.

At the very top of the staircase you had tumbled down with Ana only hours earlier was a large circular landing, branching off into two halls. The western wing held your sisters’ bedrooms, yours, and the room your mother had moved into in her grief.

The eastern wing was seldom used these days. Since your father had passed, it had been empty except for the staff and your rare journeys to your father’s study for records and estate paperwork. It was perfect for your guests, separate enough from the rest of your family that your eldest sister’s virtue could be ensured without having to turn away the Lord of the land you lived upon.

He would be quite the match for her indeed, if he could get around to actually proposing.

Though you knew that you should have been focusing on Lord Barnes and how best to nudge him in your sister’s direction, your thoughts returned to the General.

You wondered how he was filling his time before dinner. You’d offered them a tour — well, Mister Kirk had offered them a tour on your behalf — but they’d both declined. Perhaps their trip had been long. Ana had not mentioned where they had been voyaging from. It could have been far. Lord Barnes had a few homes. The men in town had said as much when you’d been not-eavesdropping at one of the spring balls.

Only to assure yourself and your mother that Ana would be kept and cared for when they did marry.

Fussing with your hair could only provide distraction for so long. Sat at your vanity, you fiddled with brushes and clips and jewelry that Char had so neatly arranged that morning. Your room was beautiful, smaller than your eldest sisters and made smaller still by the shelves you’d insisted on lining the walls and packing with books. There was no shortage of beautiful trinkets, littered among the stacks of paper. Among your favourites, a bronze compass your father had gifted you and a necklace that had belonged to a distant grandmother you’d never met that appeared more like water droplets than stones.

Every time you allowed your eyes to wander, you could see the General gazing back. Your short glimpse of him had cemented itself in your memory, not allowing you a moment of respite.

He had to know how handsome he was to walk the way he did. Never mind how short your interaction was. You’d seen enough.

Another beautiful man, not unlike the Lord Barnes. The money, the fame behind his title and his bloody victory, meant nothing to you.

But there was something about those eyes…

Perhaps your sisters’ company would distract you.

Before you’d fully registered your decision to move, you found yourself out of your bedroom and at the bottom of the stairs. Your sisters and mother loitered in front of the dining room, chattering amongst themselves.

You slid in between Siena and Ana, linking your arms with theirs. “Are we awaiting something?”

Ana bumped her forehead into your shoulder. “You, silly. Shall we sit. Chef said she was almost finished with supper.”

Your mother opened up the doors to the dining room. This was one room that you were truly proud to inherit. Since you were of an age to sit up without assistance, you’d all sat at the same table. Your grubby hands had smudged across it’s surface. You’d traced the curved edge with the end of a fork at more than one of your father’s terrible business dinner meetings. It was as much of an heirloom than anything else your parents could leave you.

You sat first, at the head of the table opposite your mother as you had since your father had vacated his seat. Your sisters joined you in their chairs with their backs to the window, Siena closest to you.

She leaned across the corner of the table, whispering behind her hand, “How old do you reckon the General is?”

With a roll of your eyes, you whispered back, “Too old for you, dear sister.”

As if summoned, the man himself walked through the door with the Lord Barnes in tow. The General was no longer in a military uniform but a loose white shirt, the sleeves unbound. Barnes was dressed, jacket buttoned and hat tucked under his arm. Truly opposites.

To your dismay, the General sat beside you, leaving the seat next to your mother to Barnes.

“Thank you for joining us, gentleman.” Your mother lifted her wine glass to them, and you followed her lead.

As your servants set your meals in front of you, Lord Barnes broke the silence. “I must say, Miss Dean,” The title caught your attention, though he had directed it to Ana, “It is refreshing to see you after so long of reading your words. Though it was a necessary evil, I have needed to gaze upon you for some time.”

He was bold. So quick to flatter, and in front of your mother, no less. But you weren’t afforded the time to process his words before the General was cutting in.

“A need, you say?” He echoed. “You aren’t perhaps attempting to rewrite Shakespeare, are you, Finn?” The Lord shot an amused look to his companion, who continued, “Does the line not go something like, ‘So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground’?”

Your mother and Siena both sighed, as if you were the only one that could see the General’s clear attempt to flaunt his abilities. It seemed he was determined to be as infuriating as he was beautiful. And you simply would not have that in your home, disrupting your sister’s love.

“Did you have a lot of time to study literature while on the front lines, General?” You asked sweetly, glaring daggers across your plate. “Or was your time spent reading in an office far from the dying cries of your men?”

Your mother politely engaged Lord Barnes in a conversation as the General’s eyes flared. “I studied classics in school, Miss Dean. I can assure you, though I am a few years removed from my education, I do believe I remember the details of my years of study.”

“Did you attend a private school before joining the military, General? It would be a shame if your father had paid good money for you to quote sonnets on the battlefield.” Siena kicked you under the table but nothing could distract you from the fire behind the General’s eyes.

“I did, though it was of my own merit, not my father’s coin.”

“Lord Barnes!” Siena said loudly, forcing you to keep quiet as the rest of the table fell silent. “How long was your journey today? I don’t think you said.”

“A few hours. And please, do call me Finn. I think that we will all be getting to know each other quite well in the next little while and I must admit I am not used to the title, even after a year.”

“Then we shall.” Ana’s sweet voice broke you out of your anger. The way she gazed at Finn would have stoked the flames if not for how truly happy you were for her.

Siena perked up as she discovered a way to insert herself into the discussion. “Do you have a favourite, General? Of the writers you studied?”

“The King himself, of course. Shakespeare. I couldn’t possibly pick another. Do you know of another writer that can so excellently balance the comic and the tragic, Miss Dean?” He addressed you, causing Siena to slump down in her seat. “For if you do, I certainly would not mind a recommendation. This summer shall be long without anything stimulating to discuss.”

“Oh General, don’t get her started on the greeks!” Siena faked a swoon, the back of her hand pressed to her brow as she deflated in her chair. “She truly won’t stop chattering if you do.”

The light behind his eyes shifted, the defensive fire from before becoming a curious simmer. “You’re well read.”

You chuckled unbecomingly into your wine. “You sound so surprised, General. Is it more shocking that I am beautiful or that I am a woman, as well as educated?”

Evidently taken aback, he took a moment to compose himself before responding, “I will admit that while both of those traits may make you… distracting, Miss Dean, they do not surprise me. I simply expected the future matron of these grounds to be more focused on her people, rather than a man’s education.”

“Are you accusing me of neglecting my duties, General Dameron?” Your sharp tone silenced the room.

He seemed as if he might be ill over the table before quickly recovering. In a soft voice, he said, “Of course not, Miss Dean.”

His grovelling could not quell the need in your gut to put him in his place. “I would hope not. Though I understand that perhaps the concept is foreign to a man such as yourself, women are more than capable of a trick known as multitasking.”

With a small, apologetic smile into his soup, the General ducked his head.

A rush of untapped power surged in you at his bowed head. You breathed deeply to keep from further injuring him, taking a bite of the soup in front of you.

It tasted of nothing. Chef had rarely disappointed in the years she’d worked for your family, so you were certain it must be you. The sourness of your exchange had need to be cleansed from your palate, perhaps.

A trip to Father’s study would do just the trick. And while you were there, you could brush up on your reading to ensure you were thoroughly prepared on the next occasion the General dared to test you.

“I do believe I am finished.” You pushed your seat back, standing and sweeping from the room without so much as a backward glance.

***

You clutched your skirts in one hand to keep from tripping as you ascended the long staircase that lead you up to your room, your nose in your book. The house was quiet. After your outburst at dinner, it couldn’t have been terribly comfortable to stay seated in that room.

Mrs Wex had not yet extinguished the candles that lined the hall, which left you to navigate in their dull glow. It wasn’t needed. You could have found your way to the room that had been yours since you were a child in the pitch dark. Or asleep. Or bound and barely able to move.

The violent thought was enough to stop you in your tracks. Perhaps it was time to put the books away and get some rest.

You turned down the hallway to the west wing, tucking your book under your arm. It was one that you’d read enough times to open and begin at any place without really missing any of the story, so you weren’t terribly worried about marking down the page number.

A shadow at the end of the hallway moved.

You didn’t have a chance to raise your book up to defend yourself or scream before the shadow held out his hands and stepped into the candlelight. “Miss Dean, it’s me.”

Your hand flew to your throat. “General Dameron,” The words were breathier than you intended, but you pressed on, whisper-shouting, “What exactly do you think you are doing?!”

The General’s sharp features stood out in the wavering light. His hands trembled. Quickly, he straightened himself and let his hands drop. “I was…” He glanced over his shoulder, back down the long hallway. You followed his gaze and noticed your door ajar. “I was searching for a servant. I hadn’t noticed how late it was, so I took care of my task myself.”

Before you could comment on the strange ‘coincidence’ of your room’s disturbance, you realized how close you were standing to him. Your gaze traced down the column of his throat, to the collar of his shirt that he had left unbutton, exposing his chest.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to look into his eyes. “It is not proper, General Dameron, for us to be alone together.”

He bowed, stepping away from you as if his proximity was the offending matter, not his presence itself. “I shall leave you then, Miss Dean. Goodnight.” With a slight duck of his head, he walked quickly to the end of the hall with his hands clutched tightly behind his back.

You gazed after him. He was a curious man, confident and near-boastful one moment, and almost shy the next. It certainly was not becoming of a General, who you would have more likely assigned the former description. It would not inspire confidence in men for them to witness their leader so bashful in the presence of a woman.

Once he was surely out of range, you entered your room. Everything was as it should be, nothing disturbed, aside from a folded square of parchment sitting atop the covers of your bed.

You unfolded it. The ink was still drying, but through the smudges, you read:

Dear Esteemed Host,

On behalf of myself and my colleague and friend, Lord Barnes—

In the margins, he had scrawled: Would he be as insistent on being address as Finn in the written form? I suppose we will not ever know.

You continued on reading.

On behalf of myself and my colleague and friend, Lord Barnes, I thank you for your most gracious invitation to reside with you for this tumultuous time in our lives. Though your mother is the owner of this property, I understand from your wonderful staff that it is you that truly manages the grounds, while your mother looks after your sisters, so I thought a formal thanks to be required.

I also think an apology is in order for my behaviour at dinner.

You had never known a man to apologize. For anything. You sat in the shock for a moment before returning to the letter.

I had not intended to offend, though I do believe this was the result of my actions. I truly look forward to further opportunity to hear of your studies and perhaps share some of what I have learned, should you wish to hear of it.

Your humble servant,

General Poe Dameron

You hadn’t known his name. Poe. He’d scrawled the characters messily, perhaps through force of habit. It fit somehow, warm on your tongue as you whispered his name into the night air.

Perhaps you could entertain his questioning. It couldn’t truly hurt. Could it?

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #mywriting #poe dameron fic #regency au #bridgerton au

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clementineesotsm · 3 years

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THE KING: ETERNAL MONARCH EP 9, My Appreciation and How It Made Me Feel

The other person Gon would like to see first is Lady Noh. I appreciate all actors working in this series because they have a good chemistry with all characters involved here. Im a fan of Gon and Lady Noh relationship, reminds me of my grandmother. She is always so understanding but here when she says she knows everything, later we will found out that indeed she knows EVERYTHING. I love how she says (while looking at the flute, also the camera doing blurred shot to show the flute then Lady Noh was great) that she understand that Gon try to fulfill his destiny and this will be secret between both of them 🥺 The production team also have a good sense of connecting the mood with the music, because here we can here Maze as backsound and its match perfectly

Gon finally confront LSD, i have 1 fav line said by Gon here

Gon “How could you when you dont even have the guts nor the caliber?”

Damn this gave me chills. He is angry. And he arrested him.

Next we saw KSJ off duties to stay away from this mess and clear his heads. As i said before, i somehow found the relationship between this police and bar owner was special. They like enemy but they understand each other and the bar owner has somehow empathetic towards KSJ. He let KSJ used the place for a few days and served him nuts. KSJ still refusing the money though. The guitar sound makes me feel soft for them 🥺

1 of my fav scene of JY and JES having conversation before they switch place

JES “i know you care about King Arthur, but you cannot be more sincere as me to my siblings. King Arthur told me, that this is how i can protect my siblings”

JES did not even know that JY to Gon is as sincere as him to his siblings 🥺 also at the end of this scene JY actually worried what happen to JES, both doppelgänger has share some emotional connection 🥺

Gon is having a yearly review with PM. This whole scene was hilarious first of all we got to saw bored JES which is funny, then we saw PM crossing the line once again by asking when will Gon get married and she being honest of wanting to be a queen. Thank god Gon said he already proposed to someone 😎

One of underated scene in the series. Because in this conversation despite of being cute and soft (and the kiss too omg), we actually being told a very important information about time inside the in between 0 and 1

Gon “if i spend 1 day in there, two months flow by the outside”

JTE “then if you’re in there, you wont grow old”

Honorable mention for Gon words “even if i can have eternal life there, i will come to you” and JTE replied “dont think about coming to me, think about going together” 🥺

Gon continue his actual work to see all the security footage as he is try to locate LR. Instead he saw this cctv record written coming from 27/05/2022 . With JTE and yoyo boy in front of a book store, and as creepy as it gets, the yoyo boy inside the cctv are looking to Gon eyes suddenly, then we thunder came and create pain on Gon shoulder

Cracks also continue in LR side. LR knew about KSJ visiting Gon doppelgänger cinerarium. And inform that the police that visit the care center before is JTE. JTE now also looking for the 2G phone. Here i think LR assuming that the enemy side are now know what is LR doing and try to investigate it more. I love how finally LR realizing the cracks

LR “KSJ, the wrong move i made. JTE, the move i did not make”

Why KSJ is the wrong move he made? I assume because he took him to Korea while he is a child and did not even teach him or at least try to keep him close and made him a bad guy? Child has potential to develop a character which will be going againts him when he grow up and it is now kind of look like that and in liaise to that move he did not make, JTE, both ksj and jte are connected in a family like relationship. Which what makes KSJ now.

Gon was looking for the bookstore he found at the cctv record. Ho pil did not found it anywhere. Instead we got to see Prince Buyeong visited the bookstore ahead. Seriously i love this transition from Gon scene to this scene because its connected and im totally shock. And keep thinking, why prince buyeong could came to this non existed book store

Then we came to this heartbreaking conversation between 2 man speaking about fate and all going towards the new year. What a deep deep words, magnificent cinematography, incredible color, Maze as the backsound. PERFECTION.

LG “Uncle, do you believe in fate? People usually tell fate to move aside and challenge it. Should i fight againts it?”

PB “You can never know what happen in life. But if there us a place you want to reach even if your life may be at risk, this is fate. The footsteps you take by risking your whole life is whats fate. Is there a place you want to reach?”

LG “yes there is”

PB “then you just have to go there. You dont need to fight. I hope there is a beautiful lady there”

LG “if i find this solution, i will visit you again with a woman who argues that the earth is flat”

PB “yes, i will be waiting, pyeha”

Then the sunset came, i cried. Not gonna lie.

This scene is a whole new level up for this series, i love that its also very poetic. Well done.

New Year is coming. Time stops. LR is in Corea. Walking very chill on the street, little that he knows. LG already recognize his FACE. LG need to thank JTE because he suddenly remember what she said “Then if you’re in there, you wont grow old” 😱

I love how we got to see them going pass through each other first before they both facing each other. And the music!!! And the way Gon cries “TRAITOR LEE RIM” . Standing applause 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

How it made me feel:

Wow. What an episode. At this point im shock on how its getting darker and darker. I thought it will be some kind a usual romance story but it was more than that. KES really took it to another level. Also i remember before i watch eps 10, i rewatch eps 7-9 once just to keep track on what is happening and also try to see better whether i missed anything. It was so fun. Also i realize that the editing was getting better and better. Every scenes keeps getting me attached and also making me feel deeper emotion to it. Whatever message or feelings that they try to convey, conveyed well. Salute 🍷 Also the acting and chemistry from all the characters were great. I cant even say any words, i haven’t found anyone even with a small role acting bad. I need to also give applause to the casting director.

What makes me extremely curious probably whether KSJ will be bad or not. Last time i doubted Prince Buyeong, but until eps 9 i can safely said that he is on Gon side. I put my faith in him crossed my fingers. But how about KSJ? He is still running away. My heart pumped. Back then i think “Thank God eps 10 is just tomorrow” i havent really acted like this to a series for a long time, but 2020 gave me dark and tkem. Both are similar yet very different, both are amazing.

#the king eternal monarch #tkem #kim go eun #lee min ho #woo do hwan #jung eun chae #kim kyung nam #lee jung jin #kim eun sook #kdrama

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years

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A Broken Fairytale - Five

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Reader AU

Summary: Sold by your mother, you work as a servant for the King and Queen of Acadia. The Prince, much to his initial dismay, takes a liking to you. When a wicked woman intervenes, your life is nothing more than a prison sentence. With a war on the horizon and a betrothal to a missing Princess that he can’t escape, Bucky is forced to be the Prince -and King- that his father wants. A pawn in a bigger game than the two of you realize.

Warnings: Language (Maybe), Fluff, minor character death, lil angst

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: okay boys. It’s been five months. Omg im so sorry!!

SERIES MASTERLIST MASTERLIST edited poorly but oh well :)

~*~

“Do you know who (Y/n) is?”

Brock looks at the woman then scoffs. “Yeah, new servant girl. Decent enough. Why?”

The woman walks towards the Knight. “I want her gone. She’s been nothing but a thorn in my side since the day I got her. Get rid of her.” Brock raises his eyebrows, “What like, kill her?”

The woman groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Ideally, yes, I’d like her dead. But if you haven’t the stomach for that, then get her out of the picture in a different way. Kidnap her, ship her away, lock her up. I really don’t care. But my sister almost saw her daughter tonight. All these years of hard work… could’ve been wasted.”

Brock looks at the woman for a moment then shrugs, “what’s in it for me?” He asks. The woman smiles a yellow-toothed smile and pulls something from her pocket.

“This is what’s in it for you.” She drops a heavy coin purse into his hand and he smiles, opening it and inspecting the pieces of silver and gold in the light of the full moon.

“You want her gone? She’s gone.”

As he turns to leave, the woman grabs his shoulder.

“I want her gone before the new moon. And I’ll need proof. Or else it’ll be you being hunted. I’m a wicked woman and I always get my way.” She lets him go and he scoffs, brushing off his shoulder and shaking off the slight fear he feels.

“Like I said,” he turns on his heel to leave the property, “she’s gone.”

The woman smiles wickedly, content with herself and the way she’s taken care of her problem.

“(Y/n)! Hurry up! We won’t make it to Ben’s before sundown if you don’t move your be-hind!” Wanda calls, sending you a playful smirk as you finish paying for some flowers.

“Alright! I’m on my way!” She giggles as you catch up to her, linking her arm through yours.

“So, I saw Prince James leaving our room the other night. What was that about?” You sigh and shake your head. “He wanted something that couldn’t be.”

She purses her lips and nods, “well I hate to be a bearer of potentially bad news, but he’s joining his cousin and my brother today.” You glance over your shoulder, stomach tightening as you see the dark-haired prince. His eyes are already on you, a guilty look in them and a shy smile on his face.

“Come on. We’re almost there. You can pout and sulk later.” You elbow Wanda in the ribs gently but follow her towards the bakery.

A hand is suddenly on your wrist, gripping it tightly but not tight enough to hurt.

“Ladies. A lovely day we have, isn’t it?” You look up at the prince then over at Wanda. “Yes. Indeed it is a beautiful day, Prince James. I am... surprised that you joined us.” He smiles softly and nods. “I figured it would do me some good to spend time with the people who keep my Palace in one piece.” She smiles then looks down at her feet.

The silence is awkward and tense, and you want to run straight at the horses trotting past.

“Well, I’d better go see how much money Pietro has wasted. I want to give Ben a gift of some sort. He’s always so kind to us.” You make a mental note to get her back as she leaves you alone with the Prince. “(Y/n)... I’d like to apologize for my actions the other night. They were inappropriate and uncalled for, and you deserve better. That’s no way for a prince to behave and no way for a potential suitor to behave. I’m offering you my deepest and sincerest apologies.” You’re surprised, and you’re sure your face displays that clear as day. “Um... you’re forgiven, your Highness. Although I am still curious as to why you wish to court me.” He shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “I find everything you do... mystical. You are different than the other maidens in the country, and you’re gentle. I think that’s what drew me in first. You’re gentle despite what you grew up with. And before you go defend Lady Griffon, know that Steve informed me of her actions.” You don’t look up, almost ashamed of yourself for what she did.

“You’re strong. And smart. And I wish to know you better.” You find yourself smiling, despite your earlier hesitation.

“Well... I suppose there’s no harm in just speaking to you, is there?” He smiles triumphantly and shakes his head. “No, there isn’t. Now, I want to know anything and everything about yourself.”

Steve watches with a smile as you and Bucky talk and laugh together without a care in the world.

However, Steve’s not the only one watching.

From a few feet back, a set of grey eyes stare at the pair, almost taking notes of their behaviour.

A plan formulates in the mind of the staring man, a disgusting and dangerous plan, but a plan that will get him recognized and filthy rich.

“Why do you buy such strange things?” The prince asks, having insisted upon holding your few items.

“I pick the carts that have the least amount of people near them. Those are the people who need the money the most.” He’s absolutely awestruck by your response, falling harder for you by the second.

“And every time we go see Ben, I try and leave some coins in a discreet place for him to find later. I’m not sure if it works, but I know he seems happier every time I see him.”

“How? How are you the kindest person in the kingdom?” You giggle softly and shake your head, handing him a piece of banana bread.

“I’m not. However, I know what it’s like to be mistreated. And I’d never wish that upon anyone. No one deserves to be treated badly.” He frowns, looking at you in confusion, “even those who mistreated you? Do they not deserve to be punished?”

You sigh and shrug, “that’s not for me to decide. If punishment is what is meant to happen to them, then it will happen in due time.” He’s silent for a moment, pondering your words while chewing the baked good.

You’ve given him a lot to think about during your conversations, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

“So there is no part of you that holds resentment towards the people who’ve treated you poorly?” He asks after a few moments of silence. You shake your head and sigh, “what good would it do now? There’s really no point in hating people whom I may never see again.” The back of his hand brushes against yours as you walk and you can’t help but smile softly.

“You shall never cease to amaze me. Every time you speak I find myself even more entranced than before.” You look down and shake your head, ignoring the way your heart races at his statement.

“You’re far too kind, your highness.” He shakes his head, fingers snaking around yours for a moment.

“Please, no more formalities. I wish to know you for you and you to know me for me. That is... if that’s what you’d like.” You stop walking to look up into his nervous but oh so beautiful blue eyes.

“I’d love nothing more, James.” He smiles brightly, so brightly you’d think he’s looking at the creator of all good in the world.

“Very well, what do you want to know?” He asks nervously, his fingers taping nervous patterns against his palm. You smile and gently take his hand in yours.

“I’d like to know about the real James Barnes. Not the prince. Can you tell me about that?” He nods with a smile.

“I can.”

“So... you and Prince James seem to be getting closer with each passing day,” Wanda remarks when you, her, and May are getting ready for bed.

You roll your eyes playfully and shake your head. “We are simply learning about each other. I figured it would be rude to deny the Prince of anything he wants.” May raises her eyebrows.

“Is that why you’re sneaking out of our chambers and walking through the gardens with him nearly every night?” You whip around to stare at her and May who are staring at you with identical smirks.

“Y-you noticed that?” She giggles and nods. “Of course! It’s the talk of the Palace. Only good talk though, I promise.” You sigh then smile widely. “Wanda he’s wonderful. He’s sweet and caring and so charming. He gave me his cloak to wear last night because I was cold. And he kisses my hand and he whispers the sweetest nothings into my ear.”

May smiles at you, a knowing look in her eyes. “You fancy him.” You shrug, smiling bashfully. You turn away from her, your eyes catching on something in the sky.

“Is that... smoke?” You ask softly, walking to the window and peering out. Sure enough, one of the larger houses in the village is on fire.

Just as you’re turning to ask May and Wanda where it’s coming from, the door bursts open and Peter runs in, panting hard with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Peter! What’s wrong?” May asks, jumping off her bed and gathering her nephew in her arms.

“I-I tried to s-save him!” You step forward and frown, placing your hand gently on his shoulder.

May gently rocks him side to side, trying to calm him down.

“Slow down Peter,” Wanda says, “start from the beginning.” He shakes his head then swallows hard. “There was a f-fire. At the bakery. U-Uncle Ben... h-he’s... I couldn’t...” He hiccups a sob and May gasps, arms dropping away from her Nephew to cover her face.

“No. Please dear lord no.” You take Peter by the elbow and guide him towards you, pulling him into a tight hug when he starts sobbing again.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, stroking his hair as he cries against your shoulder. You blink back tears of your own as Wanda coaxes May to sit back down, shushing the sobbing woman.

“B-but he's gone... h-he’s g-g-gone!” You hug him tighter and kiss the crown of his head. The four of you sit in partial silence for a while, May sobbing softly against Wanda while Peter gradually stops crying.

“It’s not fair,” he whispers. You nod, sighing heavily. “I know. And it’ll be hard. But I don’t think Ben would want you to be so... distraught over his passing.” He coughs a sob and clings to you.

Sighing, you wrap your arms around him and start humming.

When his sobs become less intense, you start singing softly to him.

“Hush now my Storeen Close your eyes and sleep Waltzing the waves Diving the deep Stars are shining bright The wind is on the rise Whispering words of long lost lullabies.”

Wanda helps May to bed, gently brushing her hair as you sing the lullaby to them.

“Oh won't you come with me Where the moon is made of gold And in the morning sun, We'll be sailing Oh won't you come with me Where the ocean meets the sky And as the clouds roll by We'll sing the song of the sea.”

~*~

You sing and hum to Peter for the next few hours, ignoring the way your eyelids grow heavy.

When he’s finally asleep the moon is high in the sky and the village is dark, the fire having been put out long ago.

“I’m going to go make some tea and maybe start on May’s tasks for tomorrow,” you whisper to Wanda as you pass her. May is sleeping restlessly, tears still dripping down her cheeks.

“Oh (Y/n). You don’t need to do that.” You wave off her protests and start down the stairs, the lullaby stuck in your head.

You hum it to yourself as you heat up some water and clean up the kitchen, trying to get ahead for her schedule tomorrow.

You’re so focused on cleaning that you forget about the tea entirely. More important, perhaps, is the fact that you don’t notice the man watching you. Well, until you crash right into him.

His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you up against his chest. “Careful,” he murmurs.

You stare up into his eyes, your lips parting for a moment before you push away from him slightly.

You offer him a shy smile before resuming cleaning.

“I heard about what happened,” he whispers, walking over to you and stopping you from continuing.

“Poor May and Peter,” you whisper, closing your eyes and trying to block out the memories of the two of them sobbing.

“If there is anything I can do to help you, please tell me.” You shake your head and offer him a tight smile. “I’m alright. I just want to get ahead in May’s chores for tomorrow.” He stops you again, taking your hand in his.

“You always focus on everyone else. Never yourself. I want to help you with anything you may need. Because I care about you. And I know you might just be trying to make me happy by allowing me to court you but... I do truly and deeply care about you.”

You take a deep breath and look over at him. “That’s the thing, I truly care about you too. I... I find that the feelings I have for you... they’re terrifying. I know that the product of these feelings will be nothing but pain.” He turns you to face him, waiting for you to look up at him.

“(Y/n). Please look at me.” You don’t, far too ashamed of your feelings and embarrassed at admitting them out loud.

“(Y/n).” The way he says your name almost makes you look up. Almost.

He cups your cheeks and bends down a bit, looking up into your eyes. “What’s wrong, doll?” He asks, gently wiping a tear off of your cheek. You sniffle and wet your lips before speaking.

“I’m scared. Of... of this being a hoax. Some kind of terrible joke. I’m so scared.” You squeeze your eyes shut, expecting a laugh or a reprimand. Instead, slightly chapped lips are pressed against your forehead.

“I understand. I really do. I’m scared too. But I’m willing to face the consequences if it means I can be with you. Even if it’s only for a short period of time. You’re worth it. So worth it to me, (Y/n).” You look up into his eyes and cover his hands with your own.

“Do you really mean that?” He smiles and rests his forehead against yours, his eyelids dropping. “I do, (Y/n). I know it won’t be easy because we won't be able to tell anyone, but I’d really like to at least try this with you. And if you really don’t like it... don’t like me, I’ll leave you alone.” You nod once, your own eyes falling closed. He breathes a sigh of relief against your mouth before carefully slotting his lips against yours.

You rest your hands on his wrists and lean into the kiss, your lips moving in sync with his. One of his hands trails down to your waist and squeezes gently. He pulls you slightly and you stumble forwards, desperate to keep your lips connected.

He continues backwards then spins you around and pushes you against the wall. Your hands find their way into his hair and you smile against his lips, gasping for air when the two of you finally part.

“Please don’t push me away again,” he whispers, his breath fanning out across your lips.

“I won’t. But... can you kiss me again? Please?” He chuckles lightly and captures your lips in a searing kiss. His right-hand moves from your waist to your thigh, pulling it up until you hook it around his waist. Grabbing your waist with both hands, he hoists you up while pressing you harder into the wall.

Your other leg instinctively wraps around his waist, your work dress hiking up around your middle. You wrap your arms around his neck and buck your hips, gasping slightly as he grinds against you.

He takes advantage of your open mouth and slides his tongue inside. The feeling is foreign, however not unpleasant, and you find yourself absolutely melting into it.

A soft moan leaves your mouth, the sound going straight to the growing tent in his pants. He grinds against you again and you whimper. Grabbing fistfuls of his hair, you tug hard, satisfaction and warmth filling you as he groans against your mouth.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and gently nibbles it as you catch your breath.

“Please,” you whisper, your mind not fully aware of what you’re asking for. The Prince, however, seems to know exactly what you want and attacks your mouth with more kisses while his hands start exploring your body over your dress.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You rip your lips away from his, hitting your head against the wall in the process.

“What the Hell, Steve!” The choice of language the man between your legs uses makes you raise your eyebrows. You take a look over his shoulder then immediately regret it.

Steve stands in the doorway of the kitchen, Wanda, Sam, Nat, Pietro, and Clint all with him.

You press your forehead against James’ chest and catch your breath while trying to muster up the courage to look at your friends.

James takes a half step back, holding your waist tightly as you place your feet back on the ground.

“What do you need?” His voice is rough and deep while his eyes are soft and gentle, gazing at you.

“Wanda was worried because (Y/n) was down here all ‘alone’. I guess she had nothing to worry about, huh?” Sam asks with a grin.

“Y-you guys won’t say anything to anyone... right?” Your voice is a nervous squeak and, upon realizing that you’re genuinely nervous, their eyes soften.

“Of course we won’t. But if you guys choose to pursue something, perhaps you should do it in a more private setting,” Steve says, a gentle smile on his face. You cast your eyes down and bring your hands in front of you, rubbing your thumb on your palm to distract yourself from the embarrassment you feel.

“Peter was waking up when I left. We should get back to him soon,” Wanda says, successfully breaking the awkward silence. You nod, looking up at Bucky for a moment.

“Go on. I’ll... I’ll find time to see you. I will.” You nod again, leaning your head back a bit as he leans down. His lips meet yours in a gentle kiss, different than the ones you shared a few moments prior.

Someone clears their throat and the two of you break apart. “I should... I should go,” you whisper. He rubs your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb and nods. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Shuffling behind you interrupts the moment and you glance over to the source.

“Peter,” you whisper, hurrying over to him. “It’s okay, Peter. I’m here now.”

He hugs you tightly and sniffles, “C-can you sing me the lullaby again please?” You nod and gently comb your fingers through his hair as you start singing, walking him slowly up the stairs.

“Oh won't you come with me Where the moon is made of gold And in the morning sun We'll be sailing”

Your voice trails off as you walk Peter away from the kitchen and upstairs to your room.

Wanda and Pietro follow quickly after, leaving Bucky to face all of his friends.

“You do realize you’re supposed to marry someone who isn’t (Y/n), right?” Natasha asks bluntly.

Bucky shoots her a glare but otherwise ignores the question, walking out of the kitchen without another word.

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #reader insert #bucky x reader #princess au #prince bucky #Lost Princess AU #princess reader #prince bucky x reader #prince!bucky x reader #Bucky x princess!reader #royal au #bucky x reader royal au #bucky x reader royal au #royal!au #bucky fanfic #marvel imagine #Steve rogers

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winchesterandpie · 5 years

Text

Part of the Company Part 5 (Thorin x reader)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Word count: 3332

Warnings: None

A/N: A million billion thanks to the amazing @jezzula for helping me edit (seriously, you’re the best, ily)! We’re still on a bit of a slow burn here, but you’ll have to see how much longer that lasts... *evil cackling* Gif is not mine! Translations are from https://islenthatur.wordpress.com/welcome/

Enjoy!! I love you all!!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

I did not like this bag. It was itchy, it was restrictive, it was currently impeding me from going on a murderous rage, and just an overall 1/10 experience, to say nothing of our impending fate of being eaten. I wouldn’t recommend it. To be fair, I wasn’t on the spit yet, but being under a pile of dwarves wasn’t much better.

“Don’t bother cooking them. Let’s just sit on them and squash them into jelly.” Now, that sounded like a thoroughly unpleasant prospect.

“They should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage.” At least with that idea my death wouldn’t be wholly unstylish. Points for artistic creativity to that troll.

“Ooh, that does sound quite nice.” The dwarves were grumbling and complaining about the situation, but I had tuned them out in the hopes of hearing something useful.

“Never mind the seasoning; we ain’t got all night!” Oh? This could be interesting. “Dawn ain’t far away, so let’s get a move on. I don’t fancy being turned to stone.” Definitely interesting. Now I just had to get out from under a pile of dwarves and stall the trolls. As it just so happened, Bilbo had the same idea as I did, and he was on top of the pile.

“Wait! You’re making a terrible mistake!” Bilbo called.

“You can’t reason with them, they’re half-wits!”

“Half-wits? What does that make us?” Somehow, after more than a century with dwarves, it never failed to surprise me how thick-skulled dwarves could be. Bilbo hopped up in his sack, turning to the trolls.

“Uh, I meant with the, uh, with, uh, with the seasoning.” There we go - stalling tactics.

“What about the seasoning?” The trolls’ interest was piqued, especially the one only one who seemed to have any sort of taste buds.

“Well have you smelled them? You’re going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up.” He definitely wasn’t wrong, and I chuckled at the thought. The dwarves, on the other hand, didn’t find it quite as funny.

“What do you know about cooking dwarf?”

“Shut up and let the, uh, flurgaburburrahobbit talk.”

“Uh, the.. the secret to cooking dwarf is, um--” Uh oh. He was freezing up under the scrutiny. Admittedly, for one unaccustomed to such demands, he was doing a decent job. But a decent job could still get us all killed.

“Yes? Come on.”

“It’s, uh”

“Tell us the secret.” The trolls were impatient, and we were running out of time.

“Ye-yes, I’m telling you, the secret is…” Come on, Bilbo, you can do it! “... to skin them first!” Apparently not. That was definitely not the life-saving stalling tactic I’d been hoping for.

“Tom, get me the filleting knife,” the troll said, holding out a hand, as the dwarves breathed out threatenings in Bilbo’s direction. I was too shocked to say anything immediately, and by the time I could more action was unfolding. I probably would have laughed at how nervous he was… if I wasn’t so directly involved in the situation.

“What a load of rubbish! I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all.”

“He’s right! Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf!” One of the monsters grabbed Bombur’s sack, lifting it towards his mouth. “Nice and crunchy.”

“Not-- not that one, he--he’s infected!” This idea actually had some potential.

“You what?”

“Yeah, he’s got worms in his… tubes.” That seemed to do the trick - the troll tossed Bombur back onto the pile, and I could practically see the light bulb go off in Bilbo’s head. Unfortunately, this meant that the already limited oxygen in my lungs got forced out abruptly, leaving me gasping for breath for a moment. Breathing hurt, but I couldn’t tell if something was wrong or if it was just the result of the weight piled on top of me.

“In-in fact they all have. They’re infested with parasites. It’s a terrible business - I wouldn’t risk it. I really wouldn’t,” Bilbo said, gaining confidence as he went on.

“Parasites? Did he say parasites?”

“We don’t have parasites! You have parasites!”

“What are you talking about, laddie?”

The dwarves were quite vocal about how much they absolutely did not have parasites. In any other situation it would have been laughing, but here it could prove fatal.

“He’s right!” I shouted over the grumpy dwarves, forcing myself not to gasp at the pain in my chest. “They’ve got a massive infestation. I’ve been traveling with them for a year now - I should know!”

“And you don’t?” The troll raised an eyebrow

“I’m a girl! It’s a well known fact that girls don’t get parasites!”

Thorin seemed to get the message and shot me a look before kicking the others in the pile.

That seemed to jolt them into an understanding, which thankfully diverted the trolls’ attention from the fact that it would indeed make me edible, which I had realized too late.

“I’ve got parasites as big as my arm!”

Mine are the biggest parasites! I’ve got huge parasites!” Ever the competitive one, Kili’s parasites just had to be the biggest. There was no way I was going to let him forget it.

“We’re riddled!”

“Yes, I’m riddled!”

“Yes, we are! Badly!” I was never going to let any of them live this exact moment down.

“What would you have us do, then? Let ‘em all go?” This troll came to stand before Bilbo, and his tone indicated that he was catching on. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“Well…”

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” The troll emphasized his point by poking the poor hobbit. “This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

“Ferret?”

“Fools?” Both hobbit and troll sounded indignant at the other troll’s insult. All of a sudden, Gandalf stepped out onto a large rock and relief flooded through my system.

“The dawn will take you all!” The whole company seemed to take a breath in relief at the wizard’s appearance.

“Who’s that?” one of the trolls asked.

“No idea.”

“Can we eat ‘im too?”

In an instant that seemed to freeze in time, Gandalf lifted up the staff before slamming it down onto the ground, causing the rock to split in two. Light flooded the clearing and the trolls tried to shield their eyes as slowly their skin seemed to turn to drying clay. With a final growl, they hardened in place, frozen forever as stone statues.

Cheers went up from the grinning dwarves and I laughed giddily. Even Thorin cracked a smile. We were safe now.

“Oh, get your foot out of my back!” Dwalin grumbled loudly.

Bilbo and Gandalf got the first of the dwarves’ scratchy burlap prisons untied, and the dwarves moved to help the others. Once the pile was cleared from off the top of me, Kili bent to cut open the sack while Fili did the same for his uncle. Several set to getting the dwarves off the spit after putting out the fire from below them.

“Are you alright?” Thorin was at my side as soon as we were both free, scanning me for injuries as he poked and prodded my abdomen. I wasn’t about to tell him I had messed up my ribs - he was too concerned for me already

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” I insisted, but when he hit one of my ribs, I couldn’t keep from flinching. “Ahhhh. I think I might have bruised a rib or two when Bombur landed on us.”

“Oin!” he called out, worry coloring his tone.

“Thorin, I’ll be fine,” I tried to reassure him. “Really, there’s nothing he can do for a bruised rib.”

“What is it you need, laddie?” Oin approached.

“It’s Y/N’s ribs - she thinks she bruised them when the troll dropped Bombur back onto the pile.” Thorin’s hand was still on my arm, warm and steady.

“I’m sorry to say it, but there’s naught to be done for a rib injury, Thorin.” Oin gestured helplessly. “I can get ya something for the pain when we get a camp set up, lassie.” With another shrug, he turned back to where the other dwarves were.

“Told you so,” I said, breathing as shallowly as possible as I wrapped an arm protectively around myself. “Seriously though, I’ll be alright. It’s nothing a little time won’t fix. Though I think a few more days off firewood collecting duty wouldn’t go amiss.” Thorin chuckled, and I laughed a little before flinching at the pain it caused. This was definitely not going to be a comfortable few days on the road.

“I think we can find a way to ensure that.” His hand still rested on my arm, and the other came up to brush a piece of hair away from my face. He was so close, and I wished desperately that he would just lean a little closer… Whoa, kiddo… Hold your horses, there. I knew full well nothing would ever come of my feelings for Thorin, especially since I wasn’t even from Middle Earth. Gandalf thumping one of the trolls’ foreheads with a satisfied look on his face brought us abruptly out of… whatever that was. “I must speak to Gandalf. Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’ll be fine, worrywart.” I sent him off with a wave and a reassuring smile. He nodded once and turned to Gandalf. Once his concerned gaze left me, I sank down onto a convenient log, holding my ribs in a vain attempt to keep them from moving.

“Y/N? What happened?” A concerned Fili quickly made an appearance at my side, with Kili not far behind him. I tried to wave them off, not keen to have more people worrying and fussing over me. A grumpy, overprotective, sweet king was more than enough. By the valar, I’m hopeless, I thought, rolling my eyes at my mental description of Thorin.

“It’s nothing time won’t heal. I’m fine. Go worry about Bilbo.”

“Are you sure?” Kili’s wide-eyed puppy dog look would’ve had anyone else melting.

“Yes!” I snapped. It wouldn’t work on me today. They held up their hands in meek surrender, backing off to go find the hobbit. I’d have to apologize later.

“You lot, on your feet. We’re going looking for the troll’s cave.” There was grumbling at the order, there always was when the company had to get up, but they rose nonetheless.

“Up you get.” Thorin extended a hand to me when he was within reach, his voice gentler than it had been a moment ago.

“Do I have to?” I tried Kili’s tactic of puppy-dog eyes, not wanting to move just yet.

“We have to keep moving, my azaghâl (warrior).” Apparently I wasn’t as adept at it as Kili was. “I wish I could give you more than that.”

“Fine,” I sighed dramatically. “Help me up, then.” With a mischievous grin, he lifted me carefully in his arms and started walking back toward our horses.

“Put me down, you ridiculous dwarf!” I smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “My legs are still perfectly functional.”

“You didn’t really think I’d be so cruel as to make you walk all the way to your horse after making you get up, did you?”

“I know better than to expect anything from the Heir of Durin. Anything but trouble, that is,” I teased affectionately, feeling the rumble of his laughter in his chest.

“If you hadn’t gone and injured yourself, I’d be seriously considering dropping you right now.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“I suppose I’ll let you off with a warning this time. After all, what would Dis say?” He set me down next to Obsidian just long enough to pick me up by my waist and lift me onto the horse’s back. “Can you manage to stay on him on your own?”

“I’ll be fine, Thorin,” I reassured him. “Let’s just find that troll cave so I can sleep.” With a nod, he turned to lead company, the rest of which had remained on foot.

I just can’t leave you alone for ten minutes, can I? Obsidian’s gaze seemed to ask me as the dark-haired dwarf looked over his shoulder at my repeatedly. He’s worried about you.

“Hush, Dian. He worries about everyone in the company.”

Not like how he worries about you.

“Oh please, he’s a king. Thorin could never think of a commoner like that, let alone me.”

Obsidian flicked his ears in disagreement, but dropped the subject.

It wasn’t long before the cave was found. Reeking like nothing else I’d ever smelled certainly helped lead us to it.

“‘Stay out here.’ ‘Don’t get off the horse.’” I mimicked, complete with obnoxious expressions. “Ugh. Dwarves.”

You’re the one who likes him. Obsidian rattled his mane at me.

“Oh, be quiet. It doesn’t matter anyways.”

I would have much rather been exploring the troll hoard than stuck outside doing nothing as Thorin had insisted. On the other hand, I was grateful for the fresh air. Even from out here, I could smell a little of what the inside must’ve smelled like, and it wasn’t pleasant.

“We’re makin’ a long term deposit,” Gloin explained himself to Dwalin, who was making a face at their digging.

“Let’s get out of this foul place. Come on, let’s go!” Thorin’s commanding voice rang out, but the dwarves kept burying their treasure. “ Bofur! Gloin! Nori!” Reluctantly, they stood, kicking a last spray of dirt before they obeyed Thorin.

The king himself came towards me, a new sword and bow in hand.

“Find anything interesting?”

“An elvish sword and an elvish bow caught my eye. I wondered if you might like to have the bow?” He extended the bow to me to examine. I took it, awed by the fine workmanship.

“Thorin, this is incredible! Thank you.” I reached out a hand to rest on his shoulder in gratitude. He smiled at my enthusiasm, lifting his hand to cover mine. I would’ve hugged him if he wouldn’t have had a fit the moment I tried to get off the horse.

“I’m glad you like it.” His fingers intertwined with mine. “I hope it serves you well.” A sudden commotion of wildlife in the trees had us tensing up.

“Thorin? What do you think that is?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, dropping my hand to draw his sword before alerting the company. “Something’s coming!”

“Gandalf!”

“Stay together! Hurry now! Arm yourselves,” Gandalf rallied the dwarves, jogging together into the trees. I laid an arrow on my new bowstring, ready for whatever would come.

A sled drawn by rabbits came crashing through the trees toward us. The scruffy, brown-clad figure pulled them to a stop by us.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” He shouted. That was never something reassuring to hear from someone you didn’t know.

“Radagast! Radagast the Brown!” Gandalf warmly greeted the new person. Since Gandalf relaxed, the rest of us relaxed too, content to trust Gandalf. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.”

“Yes?” That didn’t sound like good news at all.

Radagast opened his mouth, making as if to speak, only he didn’t. His mouth closed again, before repeating several times, as though he’d forgotten what he was about to say.

“Oh, just give me a minute. Um… Oh, I had a thought, and now I’ve lost it. It was… it was right there - on the tip of my tongue!” He curled his tongue, making an odd face as Gandalf’s brows drew together. “Oh, it’s not a thought at all - it’s a silly old…” He paused briefly as the grey wizard pulled a bug out of his mouth. “Stick insect!” Radagast finished.

That was definitely not the “impressive wizard” image that Gandalf seemed to carefully cultivate, and I could tell that the dwarves were more than confused by it. I think Gandalf could tell, for he led Radagast a little ways away so that they could discuss their “wizard business” in private.

“Am I allowed down now?”

“I’ve a feeling something is coming. I would feel better if you stayed up there for now.”

“Thorin, you realize that I can defend myself, right?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Of course you can, I taught you myself.”

“Then why don’t you trust me to do it?” I’m sure my eyes betrayed something of what I felt, and his eyes softened immediately.

“I do, Y/N. I do trust you.” He set one of his hands on my knee, as if urging me to understand something. “I just… I can’t risk losing you.”

“You won’t lose me, Melhekhul! (my king) I simply wish to be more helpful than I can be here.”

“Normally, I would agree with you, but you’re injured right now, and I have a bad feeling that something is on its way. Something dangerous.” This memory of the movie was coming back to me, and he was right - wargs were coming.

“I suppose you have a point.” I dropped my eyes from his gaze. After all, he was right, and it was obvious that he was being careful because he cared and not to try to annoy me.

A howl split the air, a little ways in the distance, making my hair stand on end. Obsidian’s ears flicked back and forth as he pranced around uneasily.

“Was that a wolf? Are there -- are there wolves out there?” Bilbo looked up suddenly, clearly on edge.

“Wolves? No, that is not a wolf.” Bofur answered him

“Thorin, look out!” I shouted when I saw a warg appear above us. It leapt down, but Thorin quickly struck it with Orcrist, killing it instantly. While his sword was still stuck in the warg’s corpse, another one showed its ugly head on the other side. Kili got off a shot at it, and it fell close to Thorin, but it wasn’t dead yet. I took a shot at it, my arrow piercing directly through its eye and into its brain at the same moment that Dwalin hit it hard with an axe.

“Warg-Scouts! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.” Thorin said urgently as he freed his sword.

“Orc pack?”

“Don’t worry, Bilbo, we’ll protect you,” I assured him, hoping to be able to make good on that.

“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?”

“No one,” Thorin answered the wizard’s query.

“Who did you tell?” I could see where Gandalf’s urgency came from - somebody was after us, and somehow they had to have learned of our quest.

“No one, I swear,” Thorin insisted. “What in Durin’s name is going on?”

“You’re being hunted.” At those words, Thorin moved closer to me, as though attempting to stand between me and the danger we could not see.

“We have to get out of here.”

“We can’t! We have no ponies; they bolted.” If I were a horse, I definitely would’ve bolted as well. I was lucky that Obsidian hadn’t, though the pony was a brave one. His muscles were taut, his ears pinned flat, but he hadn’t run.

“I’ll draw them off,” Radagast offered.

“These are Gundabad Wargs, they will outrun you,” Gandalf pointed it out as though it were obvious.

“These are Rhosgobel Rabbits. I’d like to see them try.” The Brown Wizard smirked, taking it for a challenge.

“I’ll help draw them off.” I nudged Obsidian forward a couple of steps.

“No, I forbid it.”

“Thorin, I could be helpful. If you insist that I stay on Obsidian, then at least let me help.”

“Did you not hear Gandalf? These are Gundabad Wargs.”

“So what? Not even a Gundabad Warg can outrun a pony. And I’ve got a bow and plenty of arrows.” He was hesitating - my logic was wearing down his opposition, if only because the number of options was limited.

“Alright. But don’t take unnecessary risks, do you understand me?”

“Thorin, I’ll be fine. Now let’s go before they find us.”

Muahahaha... Gotta love cliffhangers, right? Hope you enjoyed!

Part Six

Forever tags

@riddikulus-obsessions @addictionmarvel @peppermint--teas @mercedesbarnes @javapeach

Part of the Company tags

@tschrist1 @captainrainbowpanda @yes-captainstark

Shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged! If y’all took a moment to like, reblog, or comment if you enjoyed, I would seriously appreciate it!

#thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin #thorin oakenshield #part of the company #middle earth #middle earth fanfiction #thorin oakenshield fanfiction

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dcmvns · 5 years

Text

bill skarsgård. cismale. he/him. ／ damon stenström just pulled up blasting real life by the weeknd— that song is so them! you know, for a twenty-seven year old ceo, i’ve heard they’re really -narcissistic, but that they make up for it by being so +savvy. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say a freshly-engraved solid gold desk plate, gaunt cheekbones and cold eyes, a tailor-fitted name brand suit worn only once. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble!

hello angels ! it me, lainie, coming @ u with another one of my babies about whomst u can find some backstory below and other such Necessary Info for plotting:

trigger warnings: death, suicide, murder mention, drug use

damon was born a first and only child in stockholm, sweden, to an extremely wealthy family, his father being the ceo of an internationally-successful energy supply company that had been taken over from his father. growing up, damon was always vaguely aware that he was supposed to be next in line when his father retired, but as a kid it never interested him much and not only was it rare to catch him asking his father questions about the business, it was more or less infrequent that they were caught spending time together at all. he was an independent and highly entitled child, soft only for his mother who spoiled him rotten.

he was 12 years old when the company expanded to north america and damon’s father decided to move them to manhattan. it was supposed to be the company’s new headquarters and on top of that, damon’s paternal uncle was already living there. and while his dad and his uncle got along decently well ( as far as anyone was aware, at least ), damon himself did not. it had always been bad blood ( the reason for which being damon’s birthright, though he didn’t figure this out until he was older ), but living in the same city now managed to exacerbate things. that on top of his tendency toward rebellion led to a highly unstable lifestyle. damon’s mother usually defended his adolescent outbursts and ceaselessly stood up for him even when it meant spending absurd amounts of money to cover up embarrassing stories from leaking to the press. damon spent his high school years partying, doing drugs, and finding his way from one bed to the next, and his family paid through the wallet.

suicide tw // it was at 19, however, that things changed. far sooner than he’d expected, his father pulled him aside one day to talk to him about the future of the company and damon’s role in it. distant they’d always been, but his father was adamant his son be the one to take over one day. it wasn’t this rare show of emotion, however, that won damon over–it was the idea of the alternative his father put in his head: namely, his uncle taking the reigns instead. the timing of all this certainly struck damon as odd but he couldn’t figure out why until a week later, when his father was found dead in his bedroom with a bullet in his head.

suicide tw // there was no note, and before damon could blink his uncle had pointed a convincing finger and he was being carted off to a cell on suspicion of murder. the fact that his father had just a week ago gotten him to decide he wanted to take over the family business didn’t look good, but after 72 hours he was released when it was officially ruled a suicide. there was no substantial evidence to make a case, yet that didn’t stop damon’s uncle from making his views on the subject perfectly clear. in spite of that and in spite of the public talk over whether or not he really had killed his father and gotten away with it now as head of the company, damon stepped into his position as ceo just before his 20th birthday.

he knew next to nothing and relied solely on his quick logic and ability to intimidate much older inferiors into taking him seriously to get through the first six months to a year, after which he truly began to settle into his job. behind the scenes he’s still prone to getting up to his rich kid bullshit, but he keeps a relatively squeaky clean image for the public.

he’s 27 now, so he’s been at it about 7 years and has a thoroughly tight grip on the reigns at this point. at least he thinks he does. there’s plenty of dirty dealings that keep the company running which hadn’t been in place when his father was in charge, but he’s successfully kept all of that a secret.

as far as his personality goes, he’s your typical detached, entitled trust fund baby handed the world on a silver platter as well as a job as ceo of a multinational company. he’s got a bit of a god complex but is more than capable of coming off as charming when he needs to be. has a little bit of a swedish accent, particularly when he’s worked up and yelling. uses and abuses his six foot five stature and resting death glare to get what he wants.

still wildly fucked up about his dad, but will not under any circumstances talk about it except to reiterate that he did not, in fact, kill him. is a 10000% mama’s boy but that’s……..not something he shows the public either yeugdhusjs

if he was FORCED to put a label on his sexuality it would be pansexual but he rly hates the idea of putting something like that in a box. he just........sleeps with whoever catches his eye BUT he’s also careful about not letting any of his Escapades become public so he’s also relatively choosy about it unless he’s whacked out of his mind on drugs

i literally edited this and it’s still a rambly mess but i’ll tell u what!!!!!!!! it is what it is and im washing my hands of this come hmu if u wanna plot or like this and i will appear in ur dms at some point !!! also plot ideas below

wanted connections

someone with whom he’s done DIRTY DEALINGS for his company!!!! could be someone else who runs a company or just someone who might have had something he needed (eg connections)

the above but with the added Spice of blackmail

one or two people he’s actually close with!!!!

a pr relationship / any kind of pr stuff tbh he’s always trying to do things that’ll help his image given how shaky it’s always been bc of the way he started out

an ex or two who definitely ended on bad terms, either him breaking up with them bc he’s him and got bored or they broke up w him bc he’s......him ateyrgjdhsa

endless hookups and one night stands and endless possibilities for angst

people he’s hardcore led on who probably despise him now

SOMEONE who’s like a little brother/sister to him??? that he’s very protective over and soft for and like....they’re one of the only people who can talk sense into him when he’s being Too Insane

please just all kinds of enemies he’s so Cold it’s so easy to hate him

uhhhHHHHH people who remember the scandal about his dad and think he’s guilty !!!

#excessintro #me? writing a coherent intro? its less likely than u think #smoking tw #for thee gif

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emybain · 5 years

Text

Total Fluff Where Nova Surprises Everyone

I previously posted something about a mother coming up to sketch’s team in public and asking them to hold her baby while she did something, and the baby is crying and all of that, and no one can calm them down except for nova, much to everyone’s surprise and amusement. I decided to write it because i have nothing better to do with my life. Im gonna say it takes place post-archenemies but pre-reveal so…. Here.

Edit: Holy heck I did not mean for this to be so long Im so sorry. Warning: this is unedited bc im tired.

Nova’s eyes followed Adrian as he paced back and forth. They were in the lounge, waiting to be called in for a patrol shift. Oscar and Ruby were playing Battle to the Death, like they always did, and were volleying insults to one another. Danna was...well...stuck in swarm mode still. Nova’s stomach churned at the thought. Her butterflies had disappeared after the gala a couple of weeks ago, according to Adrian, and hadn’t made an appearance since. Nova was constantly checking her surroundings whenever she was alone to make sure that one of them wasn’t following her the way the one currently trapped in the room she shared with honey was. She tried to push down thoughts of Danna, and how if her trapped butterfly somehow got loose, it would all be over for Nova.

Nova wanted nothing more than to be done with the Renegades, but she still had a mission. A mission that was supposed to have ended two weeks ago, had it not been for the arrest of her uncle, Ace Anarchy. This hero charade was running itself dry. Nova was back on track; her uncle’s arrest reminded her of that. She was expecting Leroy or Honey or Phobia to tell her any day now that she could put Nova McLain and Insomnia to rest. That she could become Nightmare, fully, again.

She waited for that day with anticipation, fingers itching to grasp it. It was only a matter of time before the Renegades caught onto her game, also. Too many clues, too many reckless mistakes, had been left behind the night of the gala. Then, she had thought her time parading around as a Renegade was over. She hadn’t cared about what she did or the damage she left that would lead the Renegades busting down the door to her home and arresting her. She cared now. Every step, every maneuver, every breath, was taken with precaution. Even now, Nova’s eyes left Adrian’s pacing form to glance at the elevator doors, at the exit signs, at the room full of Renegades that could easily outnumber her. Every time the elevator buzzed open, she expected more experienced and higher up Renegades to come bursting in, armed with powers and weapons and handcuffs and Agent N specifically for Nova.

Adrian passed her for the umpteenth time, and she grabbed his hand, which had been used to amplify his rant about Nightmare. She had only been half listening to him, as it was stuff she had heard a thousand times before, how much he hated her and how she would pay for what she did to Max.

Max, who was currently hidden away in his quarantine. No one was allowed to visit him, not even Captain Chromium. After barely surviving being ran through with the chromium spear, and having to go through a surgery that lasted hours, Max had been transported back to his quarantine to avoid the media and to prevent prodigies from being affected by his power. He was on strict bed rest, and would be that way for many weeks. Nova’s heart tugged, and she longed to tell Adrian that it wasn’t Nightmare who almost killed Max, but Genissa Clark, who was no longer a Renegade after being tranquilized by Nova herself. However, there was no way for her to tell Adrian without revealing her true identity and ruining everything. Not that it would matter much if he knew the truth, anyways. He still hated Nightmare with a burning passion.

Ironic, really.

Adrian paused in his ranting, mid-sentence about how in the hell did Nightmare even have access to Agent N and how she was able to take down Frostbite’s entire team alone. Another thing that could trace itself back to Nova.

Adrian looked down at their hands, mouth open slightly. He stopped pacing, finally, too surprised by her confidant gesture. Nova took the opportunity and pressed her luck more, covering the back of his hand with her other one, sandwiching his together between hers. She squeezed his hand softly with the one holding his palm and stroked his knuckles with the thumb on her other hand. She gazed up at him, trying to feign a worried face. She batted her eyelashes, opened her eyes a little wider, raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips. It wasn’t hard, as she was truly worried about him. About his obsession, his lack of sleep, his constant Nightmare this and Nightmare that. He was worrying himself sick over the same person he was letting hold his hand.

“You need to stop, Adrian.” Nova insisted. “You’ve been going on about Nightmare ever since we set foot in here, and you’ve been obsessing over her ever since that night.” He flinched, down casting his eyes.

“You don’t understand,” he muttered. “I have to find her, Nova. She tried to-”

“I know.” Nova sighed, a little frustrated. She pushed down the negativity, though, and stopped her stroking to stand and nudge his chin so he would look at her. He jumped at the contact. “You need to get your mind off of her.”

Adrian tugged her closer, making Nova’s heart race. She ignored it. Mostly. “I’ve tried. It’s just...it’s hard to after what she did.”

“I know,” Nova repeated. They were inches apart. For all Nova cared, they could be the only two people in that room. In the entire world. “How do you think I felt after my family..you know..” she trailed off, then shook her head. “I was angry for a long time, Adrian. I’m still angry, but there’s nothing I can do about it to change what happened.” When his eyes started to drift away from hers again, she placed a desperate hand on his chest. “Adrian, Max is still here. He was very lucky.”

Adrian stared at her for so long that she shifted, feeling his eyes bore into her, making her feel bare. Then, he closed his eyes, let out a slow breath, and pulled the hand that was still holding his to his lips. The soft press of his kiss on the back of her hand was so intimate that it sent a shock through Nova’s body. She felt her cheeks light up. He held her hand there for a second, then pulled back, letting their entwined hands fall between them. She instantly missed the contact, even though they were still holding one another.

“You’re right,” he finally said, with a slight nod.

Nova pressed a smile to her lips. It was tight. “I have an idea: let’s take a walk. Maybe go to the park? They clearly don’t need us here right now if we haven’t been called in yet, and if they do, we’ll get a message through our communication bands.”

Adrian seemed to ponder it for a moment, then nodded again, this time firmly. “Alright. Should we tell Oscar and Ruby, or should we let them continue their bickering?”

They both glanced over at the pair, who had moved onto another arcade game that Nova was unfamiliar to. It looked like some sort of racing game, with seats and steering wheels. Ruby was trying to mess Oscar up by swiping at his steering wheel, causing his car to veer off-course. He cursed her and swatted at her hand, shoving her away, although not harshly. Ruby cackled, trying to do it again while controlling her own wheel, but Oscar was able to keep her away this time. He kept glancing at her, and if it was out of precaution or affection or both, Nova had no clue. She shook her head.

“I think they need some fresh air, too.”

Nova and Adrian trailed behind Oscar and Ruby, hand in hand. Oscar must’ve made a bad joke, because he threw his head back laughing while Ruby groaned, face palming. Nova caught a glimpse of a smile on her face, however. She also noticed Oscar’s failed attempts to reach for her hand, as Ruby was animated and used her hands whenever she spoke. A pang of sympathy went through Nova for Oscar.

“When are they going to get together,” Nova said under her breath, shooting a smile to Adrian. He chuckled and shook his head.

“When they decide to fess up to each other.”

“So never?”

“Probably.”

Nova shook her head, watching the two in front of them. She thought back to her conversation with Oscar back at the gala. He really was charming, despite, well, everything he did. And it was clear that Ruby liked him back; he was just too in-denial to see it.

A breeze blew through, sending goosebumps down Nova’s arm. The weather was starting to turn, becoming chillier every day. The issued Renegade’s uniform wasn’t exactly made with material for winter. Nightmare’s disguise would’ve kept her warm, she thought smugly.

Ahead, Oscar and Ruby slowed to a stop and looked behind them, waiting for Nova and Adrian to catch up. When they did, the four of them started walking again.

“Have either of you heard anything from Danna?” Ruby asked, worry lacing her tone. “Oscar and I were just discussing that, and how her swarm won’t fair well with this weather.”

Adrian shook his head. “No. Nothing since the gala, when I last messaged her.”

“Yeah, we haven’t heard anything since we saw her butterflies at the cathedral.” Ruby shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

Nova opened her mouth, about to feign having not seen her either, when a young woman with a crying baby in her arms rushed over to them. The group stopped, all four surprised.

“Excuse me,” the woman said, clearly stressed. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but there are no other mother’s around, and I saw the uniforms. Can you watch my daughter for me for like five minutes? My son just ran off and I can’t catch him while holding her.”

Adrian was the first to speak. “Of course, ma’am.” He smiled at her pleasantly. “Do you need any help finding your son?”

Relief swept over the woman’s features. “No, I know where he’s going, I just need to grab him before he gets there or I’ll be in huge trouble. He’s done this dozens of times that I know his route and how fast he goes, so it won’t take long.” She hurried forward and pushed the baby into Adrian’s arms, forcing him to let go of Nova’s hand, much to her dismay. “Thank you so much! I’ll be back in a minute!” The woman waved a hand over her shoulder as she dashed off in mad pursuit of her rogue son, shouting his name.

Adrian looked to Nova, then to Ruby, then Oscar, panic written all over his face. His shoulders were stiff, and he held the baby at a distance from himself, awkward. The baby continued to cry, harder than before now that she was separated from her mother.

“Help,” was all Adrian said. Nova’s mouth twitched, and she bit her cheek to keep from smiling. It was too comical.

Oscar was less nice about keeping it in, and bust out laughing. Adrian glared at him. Ruby rolled her eyes and stepped forward, muttering about how useless boys were. She took the baby from Adrian’s arms without question, cradling her close to her chest and making shushing sounds. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet, rocking back and forth.

The baby continued to cry, fisting her hands against Ruby’s uniform.

After a minute, Ruby looked up with the same panicked expression as Adrian. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she stammered out, “I used to hold my brothers all the time when they were babies, and I could usually get them to stop crying. Oscar?”

Oscar backed up, eyes wide. “Hell no. I love kids as much as anyone, but me holding a baby is bad luck.”

Ruby groaned, shifting the infant in her arms.

Nova had an idea. A terrible idea, really, but one that would work. She debated for a bit, arms crossed and biting her lip, then stepped forward, arms outstretched.

“Give her to me.” She beckoned for Ruby to place the crying child in her arms. Ruby looked at Nova as if she had grown a second head. Adrian and Oscar held similar gazes.

Nova’s face reddened at the staring. Her jaw tightened in defense. “What? I had a baby sister. I knew how to calm her better than my parents.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She spent multiple nights using her power on Evie to keep her quiet in their tiny apartment.

Ruby hesitated, then sighed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to do. She placed the baby in Nova’s waiting arms, unfurling her little fists from her uniform. Nova held the infant close to her chest, cradling her beneath the head. Her pudgy face was scrunched up and scarlet from crying. It didn’t look like she would be giving up anytime soon, either.

Nova glanced at the others, who were watching her closely. With a great sigh, and a small tinge of regret for what she was about to do, Nova cleared her throat. Her Papà used to sing her and Evie to sleep when they were having rough nights. She distinctly remembered one lullaby that always got her to fall asleep quickly. And if that didn’t work on this baby, well, she had her power.

Reluctantly, Nova opened her mouth, and sang.

“Ninna nanna, ninna oh

Questo bimbo a chi lo dò?

Ninna nanna, ninna oh

Questo bimbo a chi lo dò?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Nova saw Oscar’s jaw drop. He elbowed Adrian roughly, whispering. Blushing furiously, Nova turned her back to them, swaying from side to side to the rhythm of the song.

“Se lo dò alla befana

se lo tiene una settimana

Se lo dò all’uomo nero

se lo tiene un anno intero.”

The crying from the baby had stopped, thankfully, and the little girl’s eyes were open. Their deep brown orbs stared up at Nova in wonder, mouth open. Nova cracked a small smile, sad, as she thought of Evie.

“Se lo dò al lupo bianco

se lo tiene tanto tanto

Ninna nanna, nanna fate

Il mio bimbo addormentate.”

The infant did not close her eyes as Nova had hoped. Instead, she reached up and tugged at Nova’s hair. Nova ignored this, remembering that Evie used to do the same thing. She started the lullaby again, doing a little dance now. She kept her back to her teammates, not daring to look at them. When she got near the end of the song, she let her power flow through her gently, like with Evie. She stroked the baby’s soft curls, smiling at her as the baby’s eyes grew droopy, then closed. The baby girl relaxed instantly, curling into Nova. Nova hummed the lullaby, pretending that she was still trying to get the baby to fall asleep as she turned to face three wide eyed Renegades, mouths opening and closing like fish out of water. She avoided their gazes, continuing to hum and rock and look at the baby’s features. The baby was pretty adorable when she wasn’t screaming her head off.

“Thank you so much!” Nova looked up to see the mother, now sweaty and out of breath, coming towards them with a squirming toddler beside her. Nova could see how white the woman’s hands were from holding her son so tightly. He looked very proud of himself, mischief in his eyes. “Oh my goodness, you got her to fall asleep?” The mother gaped at Nova, then glanced down at her child, still fast asleep in Nova’s arms.

Nova laughed nervously. “Um, yeah. I sang to her and she just passed out. I used to sing to my little sister all the time when she was a baby. She was always crying, and my parent’s could never get her to sleep. But, whenever I held her, she would fall asleep almost immediately.” A partial lie, but the stranger didn’t need to know that.

“She hates going to sleep!” the woman exclaimed, still staring at her baby in wonder. “It takes me hours to get her to even close her eyes. You have a true gift!” She turned her attention to her son, made him promise to not run away again, let go of his hand, and took her daughter from Nova, slowly to avoid waking her. “If you ever need some extra money, I would love to have you as a babysitter.”

Nova’s eyes widened, and she shook her head vigorously. “Oh! Um...I would love to, but...I..I’m already so busy with Renegade work and my studies and things at home.” She smiled sheepishly. “But thank you for the offer.”

The woman’s expression fell for a moment, and Nova felt bad. But what was she to do? Nightmare becoming a babysitter was the last thing Nova needed, even if she could bring in some money for the Anarchists.

“Well, okay. If you change your mind, my name is Liliana Hemmings. I walk through this park every day around this time, so feel free to come find me.” She smiled brightly then at all four of them, gratitude written across her features. “Thank you again so much for the help. It’s always good to know we can count on the Renegades. Have a nice day!” She waved to the four of them, and they all said their goodbyes. Nova bit her lip in irritation at her comment. No one should count on the Renegades. They only brought disappointment.

Oscar whistled loudly, moving forward to clap an arm around Nova’s shoulders, which she pushed away instantly. He snorted, unbothered. “Well, would you look at that? Our vicious and antisocial little Nova not only knows how to rock a baby, but she can sing too!” Nova glared at him, then cast her eyes downward. When she didn’t reply, Oscar continued. “And did you guys hear that vibrato? I say she’s a solid soprano.”

“Shut up, Oscar.” Nova rolled her eyes, annoyed, yet trying to keep a smile from blooming on her face.

“No, but seriously, where did you learn all of that, Nova?” Ruby raised an eyebrow, amused.

Nova shrugged, shrinking under so much attention. “My dad used to sing all the time in Italian. And like I already said, I used to help put my sister to sleep all the time because my parents always had a hard time.”

They seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then, all of their communication bands went off.

“Looks like they need us.” Ruby beckoned them. “C’mon, let’s head back.” She and Oscar started walking, and Nova was thankful, for the first and last time in history, for the Renegades for saving her from further embarrassment. She started to follow behind Oscar and Ruby, but was pulled back by Adrian. There was a teasing smile on his face that burned her cheeks, yet she still allowed him to pull her against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist confidently. Through their uniforms, she could feel his heart beating against hers.

“You have a beautiful voice,” he murmured, moving a hand to cup her cheek. His hand was cool against its heat. “I had no idea you could sing.”

“Oh, we’re being Mr. Suave now, are we?” Nova tried to keep a neutral voice, but she couldn’t hide the shaking in her tone. Adrian grinned, much to her frustration, pleased at the not-compliment. The hand still at her waist squeezed, and she bit her lip to keep from gasping. Her arms remained at her side, balled into fists. She would not be drawn into his antics.

“I’m feeling much better because of you, Nova. I wanted to thank you.” His voice turned sincere, and he pulled her closer, tilting his head down. Nova’s eyes betrayed her, flitting down to his lips. She glanced back up at him.

“You’re welcome,” she said, although it came out hoarse. She could feel Adrian’s breath on her chin. Unable to control herself anymore, Nova closed the space between them, pressing her lips against his. He grinned and returned the kiss, deepening it slightly.

“We’re in public.” She pulled back slightly, just to have Adrian chase after her lips.

“And?” He moved both his hands now to cup her face, kissing her tenderly. Nova wrapped her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into his hair. She could go on like this forever, wrapped in Adrian’s warm embrace, cuddling, kissing, enjoying every second life had to offer.

And then Oscar had to ruin it.

“Ay, lovebirds!” he yelled, almost twenty feet away. The people around them turned their attention to Nova and Adrian. Nova pulled back instantly, but Adrian leaned in for one final peck, lingering a second too long for Oscar’s liking. “Can you keep your faces apart for two seconds or am I gonna have to come over there?” Nova turned, glaring. She wanted to slap that smug smile from Oscar’s face. Next to him, Ruby held her face in her hands, probably embarrassed for Nova and Adrian.

“We’re coming!” Adrian called back, tugging at Nova’s hand.

Not two (2) days later, in the lounge before a night patrol:

“You guys remember that time Nova showed her soft side by singing in Italian for a baby in public?”

“Oscar if you don’t shut up now I will throw this pillow at you.”

#renegades #renegades fanfic #archenemies #archenemies spoilers #nodrian #novian #novadrian #fluff #its so long im sorry #also not sorry lmao #nova and adrian will be the death of me #it is 2 am i started this hours ago #no regrets

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writing-parker · 6 years

Text

Walk Me Home, Ch. 4

Summary/Pairing: Joanna Taylor finds out Tony Stark is actually her dad. Peter Parker X OC

Word Count: 10.1k

Warning: Mentions of death, drugs, and alcohol. Suicide Warning. Gun Warning This is rated M for language and smut.

Ch 1: Walk Me Home, Ch 1

Ch 2: Walk Me Home, Ch. 2

Ch 3: Walk Me Home, Ch. 3

A/N: Here’s chapter 4. I had to repost because of formatting issues, so im sorry if there’s any confusion. Also, thank you all soooo much for all of the comments and reblogs and likes and messages! It makes writing this so fun. PS. excuse the angst!

This has only been edited by me, so excuse any errors.

“Fuck,” Peter mutters under his breath

“Get out!” Jo yells at Sam and Bucky, quilt clutched to her chest, “Now!” They both back out of her room slowly and Jo falls back against her pillows, groaning. Peter chuckles a little, “Your heart is beating so fast right now.”

“Two Avengers literally just kicked in my front door, I’m sure that I’m having a pretty normal reaction.” Jo pushes some hair out of her face before cocking her head up at him, “Wait, you can hear that?”

“Only because it’s really quiet in here,” He explains with a soft smile, “I’ve gotten pretty good at tuning that type of stuff out. The suit does it for me automatically, but at first, when I wasn’t wearing it there was just so much sight and sound stimulation it drove me crazy.”

“I didn’t know that.” Jo tells him truthfully.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He points out.

“Should we change that?” She asks breathily, butterflies forming in her stomach at the seriousness of these words. One of Peter’s hands comes up to clutch her cheek, thumb tracing her bottom lip. In the morning light Peter notices that her brown eyes have a ring of gold around them. The weight behind Jo’s words hang in the air. After last night, it’s clear that whatever they’ve been doing isn’t working.

There’s a loud clang from the kitchen and they’re pulled from their reverie. Peter sighs and stands to re-dress, “I guess we should deal with that.”

“Guess so,” Jo shakes her head and rummages around her room for a pair of lounge pants before putting on the same undershirt she had on the night before. Jo groans as soon as she steps out of her room. The door to her apartment had been torn from the hinges and thrown across the loft into the opposing wall, like someone with super powers had kicked it in. For a second, Jo almost laughs. How was this her life?

Peter leans against the frame of Jo’s bedroom and surveys the damage in front of him. She was going to need a new door frame, a new door, and to repair the damaged wall them door flew into. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks across the room at Bucky and Sam.

“Why?” Is all he asks them.

Jo is still openly gaping at the hole in the wall where her door used to be, “Why?” she repeats, glaring at the person nearest to her, which happened to be Sam. “Don’t look at me,” Sam says, hands in the air defensively, “He’s the one who kicked the door in.”

“Dude.” Bucky throws Sam a look, “You told me to.”

“Why?” Jo repeats, teeth clenched.

“Your dad-” Sam starts.

“Is in Singapore!” Jo yells, “What does he have to do with this?”

“If you would let me finish,” Sam gives her a pointed look. “He got an alert from FRIDAY that you left the apartment and didn’t come back. FRIDAY also alerted him that you were under some sort of distress when you left. He called your phone about 100 times since then and you didn’t answer. So. He sent us to save you.”

“From Peter?” She sounds defeated, looking at the mess in front of her. Jo considers Sam’s words. It was true, she had left, incredibly upset, and just not come back. She hadn’t realized she left her phone at the tower or that anyone had been trying to get in touch with her.

“Tony convinced us that a bad, bad man had you and we were racing against time to find you.” Sam says.

“I hate you both.” Peter says from his spot in Jo’s doorframe.

Bucky and Sam’s direct their attention to Peter and Sam laughs out loud, “This is your, fault kid. How were we supposed to know the girl you told us about was Jo.”

Jo’s eyes snap to Peter, “You told them?” She asks him defensively.

“Not that it was you.” He says pointedly.

“This is a mess.” Bucky runs a hand through his hair.

Jo decides to ignore anything Peter may or may not have said to his roommates about their fight. “But why didn’t you just knock first?”

“This could have all been avoided if you knocked.” Peter continues.

“I told you it was only a matter of time before the teenagers turned on us,” Sam muttered to Bucky, who nodded beside him.

“Oh, my god!” Jo lets out a frustrated groan, “Forget it! Can we just clean it up?” The four of them begin to pick up the area quietly. Jo moves to her supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan and stands out of the way until the others are done with the heavy lifting. Bucky grabs hold of the industrial style door that’s currently stuck in the wall across from the entrance to her apartment, and with a little bit of effort pulls it out of the wall. More concrete and drywall fall to the ground loudly and Bucky gives Jo a sheepish look.

Peter and Sam quietly pick up the larger pieces of concrete that surround the doorframe and wall, piling them up in the hallway outside Jo’s apartment. “So,” Joanna says casually, sweeping up the remaining dust and debris, “You obviously saw Peter and I here, uh, together,” Sam lets out a snort and Jo shoots him a glare, “Did you tell Tony he was here?”

Peter and Jo exchange a look. Jo hadn’t known Tony and Peter very long, but she was able to learn that the two of them had a special relationship, even if Tony was hard on Peter sometimes. And Peter saw exactly the way Tony had changed since Jo came into his life. He was better in every way. Peter also knew that Tony was aware of his less than stellar reputation when it came to women. If Tony found out that Peter was sleeping with his daughter he would send him on a year-long mission in South America. Or to work in a lab in Switzerland. Or maybe he’d just kill him.

Peter coughs a bit and looks at them, “You can’t tell Tony.”

Sam takes one look at the two of them and laughs out loud. They both wear matching expressions of embarrassment and fear. “You guys are so fucked.” “Sam.”

“We didn’t tell him, don’t worry about it.” Bucky tells them.

“Yup. As far as he’s concerned you just left your phone at the tower.” Sam reassures, looking between the two, “But ya’ll gotta figure whatever this is out.” With that, the two men make their way out of Jo’s apartment. Sam’s words hang between the two of them.

“He’s, uh, got a point, Jo.” Peter tells her, gingerly picking up the door and trying to place it in front of the hole in the wall is. “You should call Happy about this.” He says as an afterthought.

Jo stares at him for a little, unable to express her thoughts to him.

“Okay, I’ll go first I guess.” Peter moves to stand in front of her, “Look Joanna. I know it’s hard to put a label on this, but it just doesn’t feel casual to me anymore. I thought it could pretend I cared less than I did, but it drove me insane. I just need you to know I’m crazy about you. I don’t even know where I’m going with this.” Peter rambles.

“I get it!” Jo finally gets out, “I get it, I feel the same way. This is special, ok?” She grabs one of Peter’s hands, lacing her fingers with his. “You’re all I’ve thought about since I met you.”

“I haven’t even been able to look at another girl since you,” Peter laughs a little. “We still can’t tell anyone.” She reminds him.

“Yeah, but at least we aren’t pretending that friends with benefits is working anymore. Maybe, eventually, we can tell Tony and-“

“Any then what?” Jo asks, getting a little defensive, “Then you put your arm around me in public and then the whole world thinks they own us? No way.” Peter sighs. Jo has a point, but he decides that this just isn’t the time to talk about that. “Look,” He says, pulling her close and leaning down to ghost his lips along her jaw, “as long as you know how I feel, I’m fine.”

“Remind me how you feel again?” Jo gives him a mischievous smile, but there’s something in her eyes that he doesn’t quite understand. Insecurity, maybe?

Peter softens, kissing the spot behind her ear that makes her shiver, “No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel.” He pulls back and puts his hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eye, “It’s just you, okay?”

“Okay,” Jo whispers, feeling the weight of his words. “Can you hear my heart right now?” She’s overwhelmed by her feelings and she’s not sure she’ll be able to properly articulate them to him.

Peter nods.

“Then you know.” Jo swallows, “How I’m feeling right now.”

Peter lifts a hand and ghosts it over the skin above her heart. “Just for you.” Jo tells him. Peter nods again and presses his lips to hers, kissing her hungrily. The two separate eventually and continue to clean the area. When they’re satisfied with their work, Peter pulls Jo to the couch with him. “I’m taking a mental health day today.” Peter declares to Jo. “Do you have anything on your agenda?”

She looks up at him and shakes her head. “Literally nothing.” Jo smiles up at him.

They spend the morning drinking coffee and talking. Jo gets wrapped up in every story Peter has to tell her. It’s the first time he opens up to her like this. About his high school friends that are away at college and what Tony meant to him and the crazy missions he’s been on.

Jo hesitates to ask him about his parents, but Peter easily explains the situation to her. His parents died when he was very young. He was raised about his aunt and uncle. Jo wasn’t embarrassed to admit to him that he had read an interview that he had done with GQ. He had gushed about his Aunt May, but didn’t mention an uncle.

Peter looks anywhere but Jo when he says, “He died.”

“Oh.”

“Like four months after I got bit. He was stabbed in a robbery.”

“Peter…” Jo sits up to look at him. She can tell he’s trying keep his face indifferent.

“I couldn’t stop it.” He finally looks at her. “I was there, I wasn’t fast enough.” Jo knew the pain of losing a parent, of course. But she cannot imagine that coupled with the belief that it had been her fault that her mom died. She reaches for his hand and plays with his fingers and waits for him to go on.

“I think about it every day…. If I had gotten there a second earlier.” Peter shakes his head, “He would be here still and May would be happy.”

“You were barely 15. You can’t,” Jo pauses, “You shouldn’t carry this burden around.”

“I know, Joanna.” He gives her a sad smile.

Unsure of what else to say, Jo leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. She goes to pull away but Peter anchors a hand in her hair and pulls her closer to him. Jo thrills at the feeling of Peter’s calloused hands running down her arms and over her waist.

Peter pulls Jo closer and she straddles his waist. One of his hands travels down to her ass, squeezing lightly. Jo gasps into his mouth and grinds her hips against his. Before Jo can react Peter hooks an arm around her back and flips them so she’s on her back underneath him, Peter’s hips between her thighs.

“I wish I could spend every afternoon like this,” Peter tells Jo, pushing some hair out of her face.

“Quit your day job and drop out of school,” Jo says cheekily, “And I think we can work something out.”

Peter rolls his eyes and kisses his way down her body, effectively cutting off all conversation for the rest of the afternoon. __________________________________________________________________

Friday night rolls around. Both Jo and Peter decide to ignore invitations to go out with their friends to stay in and hang out at Peter’s, something that Jo has grown fond of doing with him. It’s nearly 1AM when they decide to put a frozen pizza in the oven.

“Crazy Friday night.” Peter laughs from behind Jo, wrapping two arms around her.

She leans back against his chest and nods, “It’s nice.”

Peter hums in agreement and rests his chin on the top of her head. The two are comfortably quiet for a few moments until they’re both pulled from their thoughts by the elevator door opening and loud, raucous laughter coming from the inside.

Peter drops his arms and steps away from Jo, who moves to take a spot on a stool around the island as Steve, Bucky, and Sam saunter in the room.

“The kids are still awake!” Sam declares as he walks into the kitchen and immediately opens the fridge and pulls out a 6 pack, immediately tossing one to Steve and one to Bucky.

“It’s gotta be past your bedtime,” Steve says to Jo with a teasing smile.

Jo gives him a crooked smile back, “Are you guys drunk?” She had never seen Steve with the glassy look he has in his eyes.

“No, we just went to happy hour.” Sam explains as Bucky takes a seat next to Jo.

“Happy hour ends at 7.” Jo accuses, narrowing her eyes at Bucky.

Bucky reaches out and pokes the tip of her nose, “Happy hours.” He corrects. “You’re all wasted!” Peter laughs, pointing at Steve.

“Needed to blow off some steam?” Jo asks, resting her chin on her hand. “We were trying to get Bucky laid.” Steve slurs a little looking between Jo and Peter. “The man needs it and he won’t talk to girls himself so… wingman.” Steve points at himself.

“Wingmen!” Sam corrects.

“But Bucky’s not with a girl… he’s here in the kitchen. You guys aren’t great wingmen.” Peter notes, taking a look at Bucky, who is bright red.

“I didn’t have a say in any of this,” He explains with a smile. Jo, surprised to learn that he’s a happy drunk, smiles back at him.

“Well we can’t all be lucky enough to live in the same apartment as the person we’re banging,” Sam says. Steve gives him a curious look.

“Who are you talking about?” Steve asks.

Jo tries very hard not to show any emotion on her face, but she feels her eyes widen at Peter. Peter shoots a glare at Sam, who doesn’t even realize how bad he messed up. In the same moment, the oven timer goes off loudly, startling everyone in the room.

“Did you guys cook for us?” Bucky asks, not skipping a beat.

Peter and Jo both let out the breath they had been holding when Steve walks over to the oven, “You made us a pizza? How sweet.” And with that Sam’s comment is forgotten.

Steve passes out on the couch after a couple more hours of beer and shit talking. Jo Peter Bucky and Sam stand in the hallway by the elevator. “You suck!” Jo whisper-yells at Sam.

“This is why I don’t tell you anything!” Peter says in the same tone.

“Is this about what I said about you guys bangin’? I’m sorry. I forgot Steve didn’t know.” Sam shrugs, still drunk.

“This is why we can’t have nice things.” Jo mutters under her breath. “I’m going to bed, I hope you old men don’t have hangovers tomorrow.”

“Rude.” Sam acknowledges her comment before pressing the elevator button for Jo. Bucky gives her and Peter a kind smile before making his way to his room. When the elevator opens Jo looks at Peter, “Come sleep in my bed?” She asks, holding a hand out for him. He grabs it and brings it to his lips.

“I have to get up early tomorrow. Meeting with Tony.” Peter explains.

“That’s fine. I won’t keep you up.” She says, pulling him into the elevator.

“You say that now.” Peter rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious!” Jo laughs.

“You’re insatiable.”

“I’ll let you sleep.” Jo promises.

The pair make their way to Jo’s bedroom slowly, a little drunk on beer and sleepy. Jo had wondered how the older men would react when Peter grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed one to Jo, but they didn’t even blink an eye.

One thing she was shocked to find out about her newfound fame was how easy it was to get illegal substances. She never had to ask or go looking, if she went to an event or a party or a press release- if there were a group of celebrities there, there was alcohol, among other drugs that Jo had more than her fair share of.

She wasn’t a normal 16 year-old girl and Peter wasn’t a normal 19 year-old boy, so she guessed that they could have a beer whenever they damn pleased. Jo changes quietly, swapping the pale blue dress she was wearing for one of Peter’s discarded shirts before padding to the bathroom to quickly wash her face and brush her hair. She crawls into bed and waits for Peter to join her.

No matter how tired she is, seeing Peter with his shirt off still makes Jo feel things. His defined muscles sort of came as a shock to her, because he was so slim and quick, but they were a welcome surprise. She was used to dating skinny boys and Peter was already built like a man. She supposed that when you were on Captain America’s training regimen that was the result.

Her eyes follow him as he approaches the other side of the bed, “Like what you see?” He teases.

“I like looking at you,” Jo tells him unabashedly, “You’re really nice to look at.”

Peter climbs into bed next to her and presses his lips to hers, “You’re not half bad yourself.”

______________________________________________________________

When Jo wakes up the next morning the other side of the bed is cold and empty. She scrolls through Instagram and Twitter for a bit before growing bored and making her way to the kitchen. She’s shocked to see Peter sitting at her kitchen island sipping a cup of coffee. He’s dressed in blue slacks and a white shirt, sleeves rolled and tie loosened, with his jacket strewn across the back of the chair he sits in.

Peter’s too wrapped up in whatever he’s reading to notice Jo enter the kitchen. She leans against the wall and watches Peter read, enjoying the sight of him all business casual. After a few moments she clears her throat.

“I thought you said your meeting was really early. It’s already 9.” She says. If she startled Peter he doesn’t show it, “I’ve actually been back for a half hour already.” He says smugly, lifting a coffee cup to his mouth.

“Does Tony make you wear a suit for meetings?” Jo asks, making her way over to the stool next to his. Peter gives her a quick kiss on the cheek before returning his attention to whatever he’s reading.

“No, but Tony’s always in a suit when he’s in his office. Seems like the professional thing to do.” Peter mumbles as Jo picks up his coffee and takes a sip. One of Peter’s hands finds her thigh and he absentmindedly runs his fingers across her skin. He’s so focused on whatever he’s doing he’s barely looked at her.

“Hmm.” Jo hums next to him, not trying to distract from whatever he’s reading. After a few moments Peter lets out a sign and turns to face Jo.

“Sorry,” He laughs a little, loosening his tie a little more, “I thought you would be asleep longer.”

Jo shrugs, “It should be illegal to have meetings before 9am.” She tells him. Peter laughs in earnest, “Jo, Tony starts his work days at like 6 in the morning. I’m just happy he didn’t have me come in then.”

“Fair enough. What are you reading?” Jo peeks at the papers curiously. “Mission briefing.” Peter says as he stands to get more coffee.

“Are you going somewhere?” She rests her chin on her hands and appreciates the sight of him making coffee in his work clothes in her kitchen.

“Marrakech.” He doesn’t look up from the coffee filter he’s fiddling with. “Morocco? Peter that’s so cool!” Jo’s eyes light up.

“Cool?” Peter snorts, “Glad you think so. I’ll be getting shot at.”

Jo’s face drops and she looks at her hands, feeling chagrined.

Peter takes one look at her and immediately feels like shit. “Hey,” He walks over to Jo and puts a finger under her chin, tilting her head up to force her to look at him, “I’m sorry. It is cool that I get to go to these places. I usually even have a full day to be a tourist.”

Jo’s eyes search his and she says nothing, not sure what to make of him snapping at her like that.

“May has me really stressed lately,” Peter explains, “She worries a lot and it freaks me out and I had just gotten off the phone with her when you walked in.”

“What you and Tony do… I mean I know it’s dangerous, but like, what are you even walking in to? You don’t get to wear a bulletproof suit like Tony and I mean you’re so much younger than them and Steve and Bucky and Sam fought in actual wars, it doesn’t seem right that you-”

Peter cuts Jo off by pressing his lips to hers. She runs a hand through his hair and kisses him back gently. When he pulls away he smiles at her, “You’re cute when you’re worried.” Jo grunts in his direction, annoyed he won’t take her seriously.

“Jo, I’m always safe, okay?” Peter nuzzles behind her ear, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me.”

Of course, that’s all she would do, but he doesn’t need to know that. “When do you leave?”

Jo squeals a little when Peter pulls her from her stool and into his lap, “Later this afternoon. We’ll be gone maybe four or five days.”

“Oh.” Jo’s face falls a little.

“What is it?” Peter asks.

Jo leans back and away from Peter so she can look at him better. One of his hands reaches around to steady her back so she doesn’t fall off of him. “Maria’s getting married.”

Peter smiles. Maria Hill was getting married in a ceremony upstate. They rented a big pretty barn with a huge field for the ceremony and reception, and even rented the Inn on the property for their small wedding party and closest friends. Just about every field agent he knew was going to the wedding and all of the Avengers had been invited to stay the weekend.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Jo tells him. Peter has to refrain from rolling his eyes. He learned pretty quickly that if a girl says something isn’t a big deal, it probably is. Jo continues, “Well, for some reason she invited me to come along. And I was wondering if you were going.”

Peter frowns, it’s Tuesday. Everyone had been planning to drive up on Friday morning in a few of the Stark Industries SUVs that Tony had provided on, but Peter had been planning on traveling up separately the next day. “I was going to go Saturday depending on when I got back. Why?”

“My birthday is Sunday. And I can’t go Friday with everyone else because I have some Spotify thing.” Jo tells him.

“I know. Maria picked out a cake to bring out on Saturday at the end of the reception.” Peter smiles at her.

“So you’re going upstate, too?” Jo asks. “I wasn’t sure if I should even go…” “Yeah. Sam and I were going to drive up Saturday morning-ish, depending on when we get back. Come with us. I want to see you on your birthday.” Peter says, kissing her on her temple.

Jo bites her lip, “You don’t think anyone will think it’s weird that we’re coming together?”

“No, and besides, Sam’s coming too. We can be out together, Jo, no one will think a thing of it. It might be weirder if we pretend we don’t know each other.” Peter laughs.

Jo thinks about it for a minute. Over the past year, every single boy that she’s been in public with has been speculated to be her boyfriend. This wasn’t any different. “No, you’re right.” She tells him, “We can be in public together. I feel like we’re expected to be friends.”

“You know,” Peter laughs, “People always say shit about Tony being a ‘father figure’ to me. Before it didn’t really bother me, but now…”

“Ew.” Jo says, “No, that’s weird, right?”

“That’s totally weird.” Peter agrees. He pulls Jo close she rests her head on his chest. Peter runs a hand through her hair, enjoying the feel of her on top of him. He never really felt this way with any other girls, like he needed to be close to them or he couldn’t breathe, but everything he felt with Jo was just so different than anything he had ever experienced. But he couldn’t tell anyone that because they would say he’s 19 and young and stupid. He pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and rests his chin on Jo’s head.

“What do you want for your birthday?” Peter asks Jo eventually.

“Oh, nothing.” She says without hesitation.

“C’mon, Jo. Gimme something.” Yeah, he had really strong feelings for her, but he still had no clue what she would want for her birthday. Perfume? Jewelry? No. Everything traditional seemed wrong.

“Peter, I don’t want anything. I definitely don’t need anything.” Jo says with a heavy eye roll. “Just get home safe, okay?”

Peter nods and scoops Jo up in his arms, ignoring her yells of protest, and deposits her on the large couch in the living area. “You’re so easy to throw around.” He laughs.

“You have superpowers it’s not even close to a fair fight.” Jo pushes herself into a sitting position.

“Life isn’t fair, Taylor.” He says, her last name rolling off his tongue.

“Whatever, get over here.” Jo laughs and pats the space on the couch next to her.

“Jo, if I don’t finish the reading Tony gave me he’s gonna be so pissed.” Peter tells her.

“Well bring it over here.”

Peter does as she says and takes the spot next to her on the couch. They’re both quiet for a bit, Peter finishing his work and Jo scrolling through her phone. Peter feels her eyes on him, quietly appraising his form.

“What?” He asks Jo.

She shrugs and say nothing, but continues to stare. She takes in his face- the curve of his nose, his strong jaw, soft eyes- his hands, the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, driving her crazy. Not even realizing what she’s doing, she pulls the papers he’s reading from his hand and drops them on the ground and straddles his hips, fingers toying with the loosened tie around his neck.

“What are you doing?” Peter asks, sounding a little annoyed, but his hands find her waist nonetheless.

“You can read on the plane.” Jo tells him, slipping his tie off and pressing light kisses down his jaw. Once the tie is gone, she makes quick work of the buttons on his dress shirt. Jo pulls off the shirt she’s wearing- one of Peters- leaving her only in an impossibly tiny pair of panties.

Peter leans back against the couch cushions, drinking in the sight of her on top of him like that. Soon Jo has his dress shirt unbuttoned and pushed aside. She kisses and bites down his body. When her teeth scrape one of Peter’s nipples, he moans loudly, bucking his hips.

Jo climbs off Peter and settling on her knees in front of him. She can see his growing erection underneath his slacks, and she makes quick work of his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down over his cock.

She grasps his thickening shaft, and Peter groans as she pumps him, watching her through slitted eyes. She glances at his flushed cheeks and the taut muscles in his neck, feeling herself get turned on as well. Then she fists her hair over her shoulder in one hand and bends over him to suck the head of his cock between her lips.

“Shit—you… god,” he sighs as he collapses back into the couch, both of his hands grip the cushions tightly. She watches his face from the corner of her eye and hesitantly swirls her tongue around the tip. His skin is salty, and when her tongue swipes through the slit, the flavor of his precum bursts across her taste buds. It encourages her, and, releasing her hair, she grabs the base of his cock and opens her mouth wider, taking him in farther.

One of Peter’s hands releases the couch to fist in her hair. Jo tries to maintain eye contact with him as much as possible; his pupils grow fatter, and his nostrils flare, his mouth parts as he breathes deeper, faster. It makes her wetter.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Peter whispers, eyes shut, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “Just...a little harder.”

Tightening her fist, she sucks his cock into her mouth. He grunts, hips jerking slightly. The hand in her hair tightens and he pulls harshly. She cries out, her own hand releasing him to pull his fist out of her hair.

“Oh god,” Peter says, sitting up a little to look down at Jo, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” She tells him reassuringly, “I just don’t think I liked that. Don’t pull.”

When Jo’s mouth returns to his cock, he gently weaves his hand into her hair, but just to keep it out of her face. She flicks her tongue over the head, along the ridge, obsessively studying his face as it twists in pleasure. Reassured, she slides her mouth back down on him. She can’t take him too far or deep, but she tries to make up for it with a tight, stroking hand on the bottom half of his cock, tugging on his flesh when she pulls her lips and tongue up to the head.

“God, that’s so good,” Peter grunts, voice choked, abdomen flexing. She splays her free hand over the muscles, feeling them quiver under her touch. Suddenly, his other hand finds her shoulder to gently push her away and he gasps. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” Jo’s mouth remains on him.

Peter struggled to keep his eyes open, and she locked gazes with him, her lips wrapped tightly around him. His balls tightened, and she instinctively thrusts her tongue back to catch his semen as he comes with a grunt.

When he’s done, Jo releases him and pulls his boxers up over his cock before kissing her way up his body again. He sits with his head back against the couch, eyes closed, breathing still ragged. When she kisses under his chin, both of his hands frame her jaw and bring her lips to his.

“You’re incredible,” He says, one hand tangling in her hair, fingers gently rubbing her scalp, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” His fingers apply a little more pressure.

“It’s okay. I-I” Jo stutters, then takes a deep breath, feeling embarrassed for some reason, even though Peter’s cock was literally just in her mouth, “I’m still figuring out what I like, I guess.” Then she looks down, “Was that… good for you? I mean I’ve never really…” Jo struggles to find the right words.

Peter’s eyes flutter all the way open, “You’ve never… really?” Considering the way she just made him feel, he finds it hard to believe.

“No, well, yes, I mean,” She’s flustered all of the sudden, not sure how to talk about her ex or the guys she brought home when she went off the deep end after her mother died.

“Just with one person. My ex. When I was still in school, before all of this,” She says referring to her album and tour and the fame and Tony and Peter. “There was him and, I mean, I was really young and we weren’t exactly adventurous in bed. Then we broke up not long before my mom died. After that I just went home with anyone, any warm body, and I wasn’t exactly eager to do that with them.” She’s suddenly a bit shy, eyes cast downward toward her hands.

“I didn’t sleep with all of them, just a few. So uh, yeah, I’m not really good at this.” She manages to stutter. “I think I sort of put on this false bravado when we met and started fooling around and stuff.” Jo shrugs.

Peter things back to the first few times they were intimate together. She had been the one to initiate it, but he remembered noticing how timid she really was. He looks at her, tucked up against his side, mostly naked, and blushing hard, “Hey, you know I’m not expecting anything from you right?”

Jo cocks an eyebrow at him.

Peter, a bit frustrated, runs a hand through his hair, “The way we started this fucked everything up.” He sighs, and Jo looks at him curiously, “We shouldn’t have made it just about sex. I just wanted you any way I could get you, and that was selfish of me.

“But I don’t-I’m not…. Look, I like it. That you haven’t been with that many guys. But I also wouldn’t care if you slept with everyone in New York City. I just like you.” Peter pauses a moment, “And you just made me feel really, really good. So don’t ever worry about that.”

Jo blushes deeper and nods, “Okay.” She whispers to him.

Peter runs his hands down her body, leaving goosebumps in their trail, “Thanks for the unexpected blowjob.” He gives her a crooked smirk.

Jo laughs out loud, pushing his chest back a little so she can slip out of his grip, and Peter makes a sound of protest, “Oh, sush.” She giggles, dropping his mission briefing back on his lap and pulling Peter’s big t-shirt back over her body.

Peter watches Jo flit around her apartment cleaning the mess she’s left unattended for the last couple of days and suddenly wishes that he didn’t have to go anywhere this week. Or ever. He could watch her in his t-shirt forever, and never get tired of the sight.

___________________________________________________________

Jo hops up on the edge of the low stone wall that surrounds the patio where the make-shift dance floor is set up. Maria’s ceremony was beautiful and quick, and now the party was in full swing. She watches some of the drunker patrons dance very poorly with a small smile on her face.

Peter stands by the bar, drink in hand, pretending to listen to whatever Tony and Natasha are talking about. Really, he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off Jo since the ceremony when she and Natasha, who were sharing a room, sat next to him.

She had on a green dress, the color of sage, that made her tan, summer skin literally glow. It was short, maybe a little too short for a wedding (not that Peter cared), with thin straps and a very, very low back that showed off the curve of her spine. Her hair was as wild as ever, cascading down her back. He had to force himself to look away from her, she was so radiant.

Tony watches Peter watch his daughter. The young man hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her, and literally every single person talking to him noticed. Tony wanted to be annoyed, but the protectiveness, the softness in Peter’s eyes was something he’d never seen before, at least not with any of the girls Tony had met.

Tony sighed, figuring he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. The music slowly changes from dance music, to the oldies and Bing Crosby blasts over the speakers. Natasha quickly grabs Peter, “We’re dancing, маленький паук,” She says, using the nickname she gave him when he was still in high school.

Peter laughs, shrugging at Tony, before following her to the dance floor. Jo eyes follow them, soft smile playing on her lips. Peter looked so good in a suit, and she was just the right tipsy that everything had her smiling. She’s pulled from her thoughts when someone next to her clearing their throat.

Bucky Barnes stands in front of her, right hand extended, “Let me show you how to dance properly.” He smiles at her. “To good music.” He winks.

Jo smiles at him and takes his hand. While she was always nervous about Sam saying something about her’s and Peter’s secret relationship, she knew she could trust Bucky to keep it a secret.

“I really like Bing Crosby, you know. But I think you’d like 60s music better.” She tells him truthfully. “I’ll make a playlist.”

Bucky smiles at her. They find themselves on the dance floor with Peter and Natasha and Steve and Wanda. Steve and Bucky try to teach the girls how to dance the right way, as Steve explained. Bucky twirls Jo, her hair flying around her face, laughing, before she stumbles right into Peter.

“Oof,” She grunts, hitting his solid chest, Peter steadies her, letting one hand rest on her hip just a little too long.

The song switches to a slow song and Jo goes to pull away, but Peter looks over her head at Bucky and says, “I’m gonna steal your partner,” before turning to Jo, who is about to open her mouth in protest when he rolls his eyes, “Don’t make it weird, ok? No one’s paying attention. I just want to dance with you.”

One of Peter’s hands find Jo’s waist, and the other grabs her left hand, pulling her close, but not too close. She rests her free arm over his shoulder, around his neck. He smells like whiskey and honey and the cigar he smoked with Tony.

“Have I told you how great you look tonight?” Peter asks her, eyes boring into hers.

Jo blushes, “You like the dress? I wasn’t sure if it was exactly wedding appropriate….”

“You look so fucking good, Jo.” Peter laughs airily, ghosting his hand down her spine. Jo tries not to shiver. Peter looks around, making sure no one is watching them.

Jo almost moans out loud when his teeth scrape her ear. She pulls back and smacks him in the chest lightly, “You’re drunk.” Jo giggles, cheeks rosy.

“Baby,” He looks at her, “Your legs in that dress are doing things to me, I’m sorry I can’t help it. And besides, you’re drunk too.”

Jo giggles again, taking note of how much she liked it when he called her baby. The song dies down and she and Peter make their way off the dance floor to one of the empty tables surrounding the area. Jo kicks off her heels and rests her feet at one of the empty chairs. Peter takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over Jo’s shoulders before making his way back over to the bar.

Jo follows him with her eyes, barely noticing someone sit next to her. “Hey, kid.” Tony says, sitting down next to her with a bottle of whiskey and a cigar.

“Tony! I’ve looking for you since I got here!” Jo laughs, grabbing the cigar from him.

“That can’t be good for a singer.” Tony says, and Jo rolls her eyes. “You know, as your father I should probably be telling you that you cannot, under any circumstances, smoke or drink until you are of legal age.”

“But?”

“But, it seems like that ship had sailed. Are you having fun?” Tony laughs, taking a swig of whiskey. Jo doesn’t miss the way his eyes cut to where Peter is standing at the bar.

“It’s beautiful here.” Jo tells him truthfully, “And everyone is drunk and happy. I love it.”

Tony’s hand finds her shoulder, forcing her to look at him, “I’m glad you’re doing better.” He tells her. Jo covers his hand with hers.

“Cause of you.” She tells him, eyes clear and boring into his. There will always be a lot more to say, but for now this is enough for both of them.

“Jo!” Peter interrupts, sauntering into view, “I got you a whiskey sour, ‘cause they’re out of oranges and old fashioneds without oranges are gross I guess. Well, that’s what the bartender said. I think they’re gross all the time.”

“Because you have the pallet of a 13 year old.” Jo rolls her eyes.

They laugh and keep drinking, until soon the whole table is full and Natasha has a tray of tequila shots and everyone is laughing because Steve can’t keep a straight face drinking it. Things get a bit blurry for Jo after that, but she remembers Sam and Bucky bringing out a cake sometime after midnight and everyone singing happy birthday and blowing out candles and being really happy.

It’s nearly 3am and Peter and Jo and a few others are keeping the party going. Peter can tell that Jo’s getting tired by the way her eyes flutter and her body sags into his. He pulls her closer to him, arm around her shoulders, not really caring who sees. Tony had gone back to the city hours ago and Peter was too drunk to care about the looks that Natasha was giving them.

Peter watches Jo pull his jacket tighter around her body and laugh at something Sam said. Peter leans down to whisper in her ear, “Good birthday so far?” He asks, wondering if she’ll remember in the morning

Jo looks up at him with starry eyes, “So good.” She tells him, leaning her head into his chest. “I’m really tired.”

Peter hums, taking a sip of his drink and slipping his arm around her. Jo closes her eyes and lets the vibrations from his voice and the steady beat of his heart lull her to sleep.

Jo is startled awake not long after by Peter pulling her into his arms and lifting her easily off the bench and grabbing her shoes, “I can walk.” She tells him, but despite her words she nuzzles her face further into his neck.

Peter just laughs and continues walking towards the inn. When he finally makes it to his room he sets her down gently. Jo sways a little in front of him. He puts his hands on her shoulders to steady her and she looks at him with complete adoration.

“Peter,” She whispers, reaching a hand up to touch his cheek.

Peter leans into her touch, smiling down at the drunk girl in front of him, “Jo.” He whispers back.

Joanna doesn’t say anything, just moves to wrap both arms around his neck before standing on her toes and pressing her lips to his. The kiss deepens quickly and Peter’s hands are roaming her back, down her arms, sliding up her waist to cup one of her breasts. Jo palms the front of Peter’s dress pants and feels him start to harden under her touch.

Peter pulls her down to the bed and kisses down her neck and Jo tries to make quick work of his belt. Her usually deft fingers fumble with the belt buckle and she huffs in annoyance, looking up at Peter. “Help.”

Peter notices the glassiness in her eyes and her slow words, “Baby-”

“Love it when you call me that,” Jo interrupts, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth.

“You’re drunk.” He says around her mouth.

“Want you.” She tells him, still kissing his face.

“Jo!” Peter puts both hands on her shoulders, “I’m not doing anything with you that you won’t remember.” He presses a kiss to her temple. “Let’s go to sleep, it’s almost four in the morning. I think you had one too many tequila shots.”

“I only had one!” Jo retorts.

“Exactly.”

“Fine,” She huffs, stumbling a little when she stands. With a smile, Peter rolls his eyes and stands to follow her. She walks around for a moment before turning to look at him, “Can’t find my bag.”

“We’re in my room. Your bag is in your room.” Peter explains, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind. She leans her head back against his chest with a pout.

“Can we go to my room and get it?” She asks.

“I mean we could,” Peter smiles at her, “But I think Bucky and Natasha would be a little annoyed if we interrupted them.”

“Bucky and Nat?!” Jo exclaims. Peter nods. “At least Nat’s boyfriend wants to fool around with her.”

Peter rolls his eyes at her, deliberately ignoring the word boyfriend. “Nat can hold her liquor.” He retorts. But then he pulls her close, “And just so you know, I always want you.”

Peter slowly helps Jo undress, dress pooling at the floor around her feet, leaving her in front of him in nothing but a tiny pair of black panties. He scrubs his hand over his face, wanting to throw his Not-Sleeping-With-Wasted-Girls policy out the window. But he shakes his head and quickly unbuttons his shirt and helps Jo into it.

Peter tucks some hair behind her ear and looks down at her. Even drunk and messy and stumbling she’s still perfect. He pulls her close, just needing to touch her.

“Dance with me?” She asks Peter, eyes wide.

Peter almost melts at the sound of her voice, “There’s no music.” And then Jo is out of his grasp and her phone is playing Sinatra and she’s grabbing his hands again.

They’re quiet for a few moments, swaying off-beat to the music. Eventually Jo speaks, “None of the other guys ever wanted to dance with me.” She says so softly that Peter almost missed it. Not sure what she’s trying to say, he waits for Jo to go on. “They wanted my body, most of the time. Or they liked how many followers I have on Instagram. They didn’t know that I like to dance to Sinatra when I’m drunk.” Her voice shakes.

“I would do anything you asked me.” Peter tells her truthfully. “I could do this forever.”

“You’ll like me even when I’m making you dance with me at four in the morning?” She asks, not able to look him in the eye. The implication behind her words is obvious to him. “What happens when I’m not shiny and new anymore?”

Peter suddenly feels so angry at whoever made her believe that she was only worth wanting for the fame, the celebrity. Or just to say they’ve slept with Joanna Taylor. He has to make an effort to keep his hands from shaking. He’s pretty sure that in this moment he could kill anyone who made her feel less.

“Joanna,” Peter breathes, “I’ll always like you. I’ll always want you. Okay?”

Jo is quiet for a moment, searching his eyes, trying to decide if she’ll believe him. She nods.

“Use your words, baby.” Peter looks down at her. “I need to know you understand I’m not going to hurt you.”

Reaching up to touch his face, Jo nods again, “I know.” She whispers.

For Peter, it’s enough. He presses a soft kiss to her mouth before he says, “Let’s go to bed.”

They crawl into bed, Jo’s body curling into Peters, her back to his chest. He wraps an arm around her middle and pulls her as close as he can, fingers splayed over her abdomen, one of his legs between hers. He buries his face in the space between her shoulder and neck, breathing her in deeply.

Peter thinks Jo’s asleep already, until he hears her voice, “Hey Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“Just so you know, I’ll always want you too.” She says, so low, that if it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing he wouldn’t even have heard.

“Okay,” He whispers back, breath tickling Jo’s ear. He doesn’t tell her how badly he needed to hear her say that, just pulls her closer and lets the sound of her steady breathing lull him to sleep.

_______________________________________________________

Jo’s hands are shaking. Peter watches her clench them into fists to quell the tremors and almost gives in and pulls her to him and tells her everything is fine. Almost.

But, he’s fucking livid at her right now, so he doesn’t.

It had been nearly two months since Maria’s wedding. Something shifted between the two of them that night, they stopped dancing around their feelings and realized that their relationship was something serious. As serious as a couple of teenagers could be.

They even told Tony, who was shockingly cool about the whole thing, but still liked to give Peter a hard time about. In the nearly 6 months it’s been since they met, Peter had fallen absolutely head over heels for Jo, and she wasn’t far behind him.

But this was their first fight. Like actual Screaming-Across-The-Apartment fight. They had bickered before, but nothing like this.

It started when Jo opened the freezer for some ice and a large candle fell from the top, clipping her on the shoulder before shattering at her feet. She had just gotten back from a whirlwind week in Los Angeles a few days ago, and Peter had been so busy with work they’d barely gotten to talk.

“Oh shit, baby, are you okay?” Peter asked from his place on the couch.

“Did you put this there?” She hisses at him.

“Yeah, I-” Peter starts, but Jo cuts him off.

“Did you ever maybe think that maybe that would be a stupid place to put it?” She snaps, voice raised.

“I was cleaning up the mess you left out here last night. I forgot I put it there. What the fuck’s your problem today?” He asks, walking towards the kitchen

“Well I didn’t fucking ask you to do that.”

“I was just trying to help, jesus. You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.” Peter retorts.

“Whatever.” Jo snorts, trying to brush past him to her bedroom, but Peter steps in front of her.

“No.” He crosses his arms in front of her, “You’ve been acting like this since you got back from LA. What’s up?”

“Maybe I’m just a bitch.” She sneers at him.

Peter scrubs a hand over his face, trying not to raise his voice, knowing how easily it could escalate, “Jo…” He warns.

“What?!” She explodes, “You’ve barely fucking looked at me since I got back! You didn’t answer any of my texts or calls while I was gone, and now you’re gonna act all pissy because of this? Get out of my way.” She shoves past him, shoulder hitting his.

“Sorry I’m busy!” He yells after her, grabbing her arm, “Don’t fucking walk away, it’s immature. Not what you do when you’re in a fight.”

“Don’t patronize me.” She spits, “And you didn’t seem busy when you were out in the Village this weekend.”

“You’re kidding. This is what you’re mad about? I really don’t have the time for this.” Now it’s Peter’s turn to walk away.

“No. I’m not kidding. It felt pretty shitty when I tried to get ahold of you all day Saturday and heard nothing and then I woke up the next day and you’re on my fucking Instagram discover page and you’re at some club with pretty girls hanging all over you. That sucked.” Now Jo’s yelling and her hands are shaking and she feels like she’s about to cry.

“Jo, that’s ridiculous. Some friends dragged me out. Sorry I didn’t know you needed to be made aware of my every move.” He says condescendingly, “I’ll send you my schedule.”

“Fuck you.” Jo turns on her heel away from him.

“Jo-” He says, exasperated.

“No!” Jo yells, whipping around to look at him. “Don’t tell me my feelings are ridiculous. Even if you didn’t mean to, what you did hurt me and you don’t give a fuck.” Tears spill down her cheeks. “I can’t do this right now. I’m leaving.” She says through her teeth.

At that moment the elevator door pings and Steve Rogers comes striding out, shit-eating grin on his face, “Hey, guys, so Bucky and I have this bet-” He’s cut off by Jo all but barreling through him to the elevator.

“Joanna!” Peter calls after her.

“Don’t fucking follow me!” She yells back, jamming her finger into the button that will take her to the residence exit on 45th Street.

Steve looks at Peter, eyes wide, “You gonna go after her?”

Peter snorts, trying very hard not to direct his anger at Steve, “Not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Look- I’m not sure what that was about, but take some advice from an old man. She wants you to follow her.” Steve tells him.

Peter blows some air out through his nose, “Not now, Steve, please.”

“Alright kid, let me know-” The shrill ringing of Steve’s own phone cuts him off. He accepts the call and presses the device to his ear, “Rogers.”

Peter knits his brows when a look of concern crosses Steve’s face, “I’m with Parker, we’ll be right there.”

“What is it?” Peter asks.

“Situation in one of the labs. We gotta go.” With that, Peter pushes all thoughts of Jo and their fight out of his mind and follows Steve out of her apartment.

¬¬¬________________________________________________________________________

Across town, Jo sits in Jungle City by herself, still stewing in anger. She knew it couldn’t possibly be healthy for her to be dwelling on their fight like this, but Peter was a dick this morning and she was already in a bad mood, so why not?

She’s busy feeling bad for herself when the door to the studio she’s in flies open and slams against the wall.

Jo sits up, eyes wide, “What the fuck?!”

Sam Wilson looks down at her, “We have a problem.” He tells her. “Get your stuff, let’s go.”

Jo’s heart drops to her stomach, “What is it?” She asks.

“Why haven’t you answered your phone?” Sam demands, already walking out the door.

Jo runs to catch up with him, “What? I turned it off, me and Peter got in a fight… Sam, what’s going on?”

Sam doesn’t say anything, just strides quickly out the front door of the studio. When they’re both in the large black SUV, Sam shifts to drive and peels away from the sidewalk. “Sam,” She sounds so small, “What is it, is it Tony…”

“Turn on your phone, Jo. We’ll tell you more when we get back to the tower.”

She turns on her phone and is immediately greeted by about 50 missed calls from Tony, Steve, and Nat. She also has a myriad of texts from them asking where she is and that she needs to get to the tower. “Sam…” Jo trails off.

“There’s a hostage situation in one of the labs.” Sam doesn’t take his eyes off the road as he swerves through the traffic, “An old employee with a grudge brought a gun.”

“Is everyone okay?” Panic creeps through Jo’s body.

“Jo, we had to send Peter in. He’s the only one that could get in through the vents undetected.” They pull up to the garage. “He’s okay right now. But he was shot in the shoulder. He’s still trying to talk this guy down.”

“He’s okay?! He’s not okay, he was shot!” Joanna is frantic. All she can think about is the last thing she said to him. Fuck you… don’t follow me. Her vision is blurry and she feels nauseous, but she follows Sam to the elevator that will take them

“Hey, hey, hey, try to calm down okay? We’re going to handle this.” Sam puts an arm around the girl and leads her to Tony’s office, which has become a makeshift war room.

“Tony!” She pulls away from Sam as soon as she sees him, “What’s going on?” All the TV’s and other devices are streaming a live feed from the security cameras of the lab that’s on lockdown. “Why aren’t you going in to help him?!” She demands.

“Jo, this is a delicate situation. There’s civilians down there.” Natasha approaches Jo like she’s a wounded animal. “Peter’s gonna be fine.” But she looks worried herself.

Jo focuses on one of the screens in front of her. She sees a man standing directly in the middle of the lab flailing a large gun around. Directly in front of him is Peter, in his Spider-Man suit, hands up in a non-threatening manner. There’s a group of about 10 people who Jo assumes are lab employees.

“Why?” Is all Jo can ask.

“We don’t- we’re not sure. Eric Sittman. He’s unstable. Used to be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, desk jockey, but based on his file it looks like he wanted to be a field agent. Failed the evaluation three times.” Tony doesn’t look away from the screen.

Jo isn’t 100% sure about what he’s saying, but she gets the jist. “Oh my god.” She whispers. “What’s he saying? Can I hear?”

“We just have him on comms. He’s trying to diffuse the situation, make Eric trust him. We’re giving him a few more minutes before we escalate.” Steve tells Jo, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“But if you do that, he’ll kill those people.” Jo says dumbly.

“We’re starting to think he might do it anyway.” Tony sighs.

On the screen, Peter pulls off his mask, revealing his face to the man. His hands are still up, and he’s speaking frantically. She can tell he’s trying his best to remain calm, to distract Eric from the hostages.

“We just lost comms.” Tony groans, frusturated, shoving some papers off his desk. Jo flinches when they hit the ground. “We have to go in there.”

“Give him a minute, he can handle it.” Steve looks at Tony.

“He’s 19!” Tony yells.

“He’s an Avenger!” Steve yells back. “He can handle it.”

Jo, feeling nauseous, sits in the closest chair she can find, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes for a moment before she looks back to the screens. Peter looks pale and his hair is damp with sweat. There’s a growing red stain on his right shoulder from the bullet wound.

“Look.” Steve gestures.

Although they can’t hear, it’s easy to see the demeanor of the gunman change slowly. The gun remains in his hands, but drops to his side. His shoulders sag and his head drops. Peter holds his right arm gingerly at his side, and takes a step toward Eric, left arm extended. She’s sure Peter’s asking Eric to hand him the gun.

Jo lets out a breath. She finally feels like it might almost be over. She’s not sure if she’s been sitting in the room for 15 minutes or 15 years. Everyone in Tony’s office holds their breath as Peter slowly walks towards the gunman.

Then, suddenly, with no warning at all, Eric is tense, waving the gun around with his right hand. Peter jumps back instinctually, and she sees the desperate look on his face. She’s able to read his lips, please he’s begging Eric. Don’t. Eric is yelling, looking more and more strung up, backing into a corner like a caged animal.

Then, so quickly that if she’d blinked she would have missed it, she watched Eric lift the gun to his own temple and pull the trigger.

Tags: @liamakorn @supertight-tightywhites @winter-andallthathebrings @yourwonderbelle @bookxobcessedxintrovert @ironicskies @wearegoldeninthenight

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #dad!tony #dad!tony x reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark #spiderman imagine #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl · 6 years

Text

50 Shades Of Kwon Ji Yong PT.1

LISTEN BEACHES I WATCHED INFINITY COMPANY FOR LIKE 100TH TIME WITH GD AS THE CEO AND I FELL IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN FOR HIS LOOK THERE SO IM GOING TO RECREATE 50 SHADES OF GREY INTO THIS THING AND ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO E.L James the author of fifty shades of grey i just edited it so i hope you like it ,reblog to share it!

y/n- your name y/l/n-your last name PT.2 PT.3

I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair - it just want it behave, and damn Hyo-Rin for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission. I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the pale, brown-haired girl with blue eyes too big for her face staring back at me, and give up. My only option is to restrain my wayward hair in a ponytail and hope that I look semi presentable.

Hyo-Rin is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all days to succumb to the flu. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she had arranged to do, with some mega-industri alist tycoon I’ve never heard of, for the student newspaper. So I have been volunteered. I have final exams to cram for, one essay to finish, and I’m supposed to be working this afternoon, but no, today I have to drive a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown Seoul in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Kwon Enterprises Holdings Inc. As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our University, his time is extraordinarily precious, much more precious than mine - but he has granted Hyo-Rin an interview. A real coup, she tells me. Damn her extra-curricular activities.

Hyo-Rin is huddled on the couch in the living room.

Y/N, I’m sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule, and we’ll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can’t blow this off. Please, Hyo-Rin begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice. How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair in place and green eyes bright, although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy.

“Of course I’ll go Rin.You should get back to bed. Would you like some Nyquil or Tylenol?”

“Nyquil, please. Here are the questions and my mini-disc recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, I’ll transcribe it all.”

“I know nothing about him,” I murmur, trying and failing to suppress my rising panic.

“The questions will see you through. Go. It’s a long drive. I don’t want you to be late.”

“Okay, I’m going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat up later.” I stare at her fondly. Only for you, Hyo-Rin, would I do this.

“I will. Good luck. And thanks Y/n - as usual, you’re my lifesaver.”

Gathering my satchel, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the car. I can not believe I have let Hyo-Rin talk me into this. But then Rin can talk anyone into anything. She’ll make an exceptional journalist. She’s articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful ,and she’s my dearest, dearest friend.

The roads are clear as I set off from Gangnam-Gu, toward Seoul (i know its like part of seoul but i meant that she goes to main part of seoul ok?) and the 1-5. It’s early, and I don’t have to be in Seoul until two this afternoon. Fortunately, Rin’s lent me her ,sporty Mercedes CLK. I’m not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, would make the journey in time. Oh, the Merc is a fun drive, and the miles slip away as I floor the pedal to the metal.

My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Kwon’s global enterprise. It’s a huge twenty story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect’s utilitarian fantasy,with Kwon House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors. It’s a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I’m not late as I walk into the enormous - and frankly intimidating - glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby.

Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She’s wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate.

“I’m here to see Mr.Kwon. y/n y/l/n for Min Hyo-Rin.”

“Excuse me one moment, Miss Y/L/N.” She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand selfconsciously before her. I am beginning to wish I’d borrowed one of Hyo-Rin’s formal blazers rather than wear my navy blue jacket. I have made an effort and worn my one and only skirt, my sensible brown knee-length boots and a blue sweater. For me, this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils of my hair behind my ear as I pretend she doesn’t intimidate me.

“Miss Min is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Y/L/N. You’ll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor.” She smiles kindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in.

She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. I can’t help my smirk. Surely it’s obvious that I’m just visiting. I don’t fit in here at all.

Nothing changes, I inwardly sigh. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators past

the two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black suits.

The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open, and I’m in another large lobby - again all glass, steel, and white sandstone. I’m confronted by another desk of sandstone and another young blonde woman dressed impeccably in black and white who rises to greet me.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you wait here, please” She points to a seated area of white leather chairs.

Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seoul skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It’s a stunning vista, and I’m momentarily paralyzed by the view. Wow.

I sit down, fish the questions from my satchel, and go through them, inwardly cursing Hyo-Rin for not providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this man I’m about to interview. He could be ninety or he could be thirty. The uncertainty is galling, and my nerves resurface, making me fidget. I’ve never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring the anonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously at the back of the room. To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic British novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting twitching nervously in a colossal glass and stone edifice.

I roll my eyes at myself. Get a grip, y/n. Judging from the building, which is too clinical and modern, I guess Kwon is in his forties: fit, tanned, and fair-haired to match the rest of the personnel.

Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes? It’s like Stepford here. Taking a deep breath, I stand up.

“Miss y/l/n?” the latest blonde asks.

“Yes,” I croak, and clear my throat. “Yes.” There, that sounded more confident.

“Mr. Kwon will see you in a moment. May I take your jacket?”

“Oh please.” I struggle out of the jacket.

“Have you been offered any refreshment?”

“Urn - no.” Oh dear, is Blonde Number One in trouble?

Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk.

“Would you like tea, coffee, water?” she asks, turning her attention back to me.

“A glass of water. Thank you,” I murmur.

“Olivia, please fetch Miss y/l/n a glass of water.” Her voice is stern. Olivia scoots up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.

“My apologies, Miss y/l/n, Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Kwon will be another five minutes.”

Olivia returns with a glass of iced water.

“Here you go, Miss y/l/n.”

“Thank you.”

Blonde Number Two marches over to the large desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down, and they both continue their work.

Perhaps Mr. Kwon insists on all his employees being blonde. I’m wondering idly if that’s legal, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, attractive African- American man with short dreads exits. I have definitely worn the wrong clothes.

He turns and says through the door. “Golf, this week, Kwon.”

I don’t hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Olivia has jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat. She’s more nervous than me!

“Good afternoon ladies,” he says as he departs through the sliding door.

“Mr. Kwon will see you now, Miss y/l/n. Do go through,” Blonde Number Two says.

I stand rather shakily trying to suppress my nerves. Gathering up my satchel, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.

“You don’t need to knock - just go in.” She smiles kindly.

I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet, and falling head first into the office.

Double crap - me and my two left feet! I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Mr. Kwon’s office, and gentle hands are around me helping me to stand. I am so embarrassed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy cow - he’s so young.

“Miss Min.” He extends a long-fingered hand to me once I’m upright. “I’m Kwon Ji Yong. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?”

So young - and attractive, very attractive. He’s tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly dark copper colored hair and intense, bright Brown eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice.

“Urn. Actually…” I mutter. If this guy is over thirty then I’m a monkey’s uncle. In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate.

“Miss Min is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Kwon.”

“And you are?” His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it’s difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite.

“y/n y/l/n. I,m studying English Literature with Rin, urn… Hyo-Rin… urn… Miss Min at Gangnam ”

“I see,” he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in his expression, but I’m not sure.

“Would you like to sit?” He waves me toward a white leather buttoned L-shaped couch.

His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there’s a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white - ceiling, floors, and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite - a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

“A local artist. Trouton,” says Kwon when he catches my gaze.

“They’re lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary,” I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.

“I couldn’t agree more, Miss y/l/n” he replies, his voice soft and for some inexplicable reason I find myself blushing.

Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the Adonis who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts, and retrieve Hyo-Rin’s questions from my satchel. Next, I set up the mini-disc recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Mr. Kwon says nothing, waiting patiently - I hope - as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I pluck up the courage to look at him, he’s watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Sorry,” I stutter. “I’m not used to this.”

“Take all the time you need, Miss Y/l/n,” he says.

“Do you mind if I record your answers?”

“After you’ve taken so much trouble to set up the recorder - you ask me now?”

I flush. He’s teasing me? I hope. I blink at him, unsure what to say, and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Did Hyo-Rin, I mean, Miss Min, explain what the interview was for?”

“Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year’s graduation ceremony.”

Oh! This is news to me, and I’m temporarily pre-occupied by the thought that someone not much older than me - okay, maybe six years or so, and okay, mega successful, but still is going to present me with my degree. I frown, dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand.

“Good,” I swallow nervously. “I have some questions, Mr. Kwon.” I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“I thought you might,” he says, deadpan. He’s laughing at me. My cheeks heat at the realization, and I sit up and square my shoulders in an attempt to look taller and more intimidating. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look professional.

“You’re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?” I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.

“Business is all about people, Miss y/l/n, and I’m very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn’t, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well.” He pauses and fixes me with his Brown stare. “My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it’s always down to good people.”

“Maybe you’re just lucky.” This isn’t on Rin’s list - but he’s so arrogant. His eyes flare momentarily in surprise.

“I don’t subscribe to luck or chance, Miss y/l/n. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said ,the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.”

“You sound like a control freak.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss y/l/n,” he says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes again.

Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His overwhelming good-looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he’d stop doing that.

“Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things,” he continues, his voice soft.

“Do you feel that you have immense power?” Control Freak.

“I employ over forty thousand people, Miss y/l/n. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so.”

My mouth drops open. I am staggered by his lack of humility.

“Don’t you have a board to answer to?” I ask, disgusted.

“I own my company. I don’t have to answer to a board.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

I flush. Of course, I would know this if I had done some research. But holy crap, he’s so arrogant. I change tack.

“And do you have any interests outside your work?”

“I have varied interests, Miss y/l/n.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Very varied.” And for some reason, I’m confounded and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes are alight with some wicked thought.

“But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?”

“Chill out?” He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking.

“Well, to ‘chill out’ as you put it - I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits.”

He shifts in his chair. “I’m a very wealthy man, Miss y/l/n, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies.”

I glance quickly at Rin’s questions, wanting to get off this subject.

“You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?” I ask. Why does he make me so uncomfortable?

“I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?”

“That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts.”

His mouth quirks up, and he stares appraisingly at me.

“Possibly. Though there are people who’d say I don’t have a heart.”

“Why would they say that?”

“Because they know me well.” His lip curls in a wry smile.

“Would your friends say you’re easy to get to know?” And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It’s not on Hyo-Rin’s list.

“I’m a very private person, Miss Y/L/N. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don’t often give interviews, he trails off.

“Why did you agree to do this one?”

“Because I’m a benefactor of the University, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn’t get Miss Min off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire That kind of tenacity.”

I know how tenacious Hyo-Rin can be. That’s why I’m sitting here squirming uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, when I should be studying for my exams.

“You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?”

“We can’t eat money, Miss y/l/n, and there are too many people on this planet who don’t have enough to eat.”

“That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world’s poor?”

He shrugs, very non-committal.

“It’s shrewd business,” he murmurs, though I think he’s being disingenuous. It doesn’t make sense - feeding the world’s poor? I can’t see the financial benefits of this, only the virtue of the ideal. I glance at the next question, confused by his attitude.

“Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?”

“I don’t have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle - Carnegie’s man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled. I’m very singular, driven. I like control - of myself and those around me.”

“So you want to possess things?” You are a control freak.

“I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do.”

“You sound like the ultimate consumer.”

“I am.” He smiles, but the smile doesn’t touch his eyes. Again this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can’t help thinking that we’re talking about something else, but I’m absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the room is rising or maybe it’s just me. I just want this interview to be over. Surely Rin has enough material now? I glance at the next question.

“You were adopted. How far do you think that’s shaped the way you are?” Oh, this is personal. I stare at him, hoping he’s not offended. His brow furrows.

“I have no way of knowing.”

My interest is piqued.

“How old were you when you were adopted?”

“That’s a matter of public record, Miss y/l/n."His tone is stern. I flush, again. Crap. Yes of course - if I’d known I was doing this interview, I would have done some research.

I move on quickly.

"You’ve had to sacrifice a family life for your work.”

“That’s not a question.” He’s terse.

“Sorry.” I squirm, and he’s made me feel like an errant child. I try again. “Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?”

“I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I’m not interested in extending my family beyond that.”

“Are you gay, Mr.Kwon?”

He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Crap. Why didn’t I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out? How can I tell him I’m just reading the questions? Damn Rin and her curiosity!

“No y/n, I’m not.” He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does not look pleased.

“I apologize. It’s urn… written here.” It’s the first time he’s said my name. My heartbeat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosened hair behind my ear.

He cocks his head to one side.

“These aren’t your own questions?”

The blood drains from my head. Oh no.

“Err… no. Rin - Miss Min - she compiled the questions.”

“Are you colleagues on the student paper?” Oh crap. I have nothing to do with the student paper. It’s her extra-curricular activity, not mine. My face is aflame.

“No. She’s my roommate.”

He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his brown eyes appraising me.

“Did you volunteer to do this interview?” he asks, his voice deadly quiet.

Hang on, who’s supposed to be interviewing whom? His eyes burn into me, and I’m compelled to answer with the truth.

“I was drafted. She’s not well.” My voice is weak and apologetic.

“That explains a great deal.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters.

“Mr. Kwon, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes.”

“We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.”

Andrea hesitates, gaping at him. She’s appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows. She flushes bright pink. Oh good. It’s not just me.

“Very well, Mr. Kwon,” she mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.

“Where were we, Miss y/l/n?”

Oh, we’re back to ’Miss Y/L/N, now.

“Please don’t let me keep you from anything.”

“I want to know about you. I think that’s only fair.” His browneyes are alight with curiosity. Double crap. Wher’s he going with this? He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very… distracting. I swallow.

“There’s not much to know,"I say, flushing again.

"What are your plans after you graduate?” I shrug, thrown by his interest. Come to Seoul with Rin find a place, find a job. I haven’t really thought beyond my finals.

“I haven’t made any plans, Mr. Kwon. I just need to get through my final exams."Which I should be studying for now rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze.

"We run an excellent internship program here,” he says quietly. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job?

“Oh. I’ll bear that in mind,” I murmur, completely confounded. “Though I’m not sure I’d fit in here.” Oh no. I’m musing out loud again.

“Why do you say that?” He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” I’m uncoordinated, scruffy, and I’m not blonde.

“Not to me,” he murmurs. His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted fingers. What’s going on? I have to go now. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.

“Would you like me to show you around?” he asks.

“I’m sure you’re far too busy, Mr. Kwon, and I do have a long drive.”

“You’re driving back to Gangnam?” He sounds surprised, anxious even. He glances out of the window. It’s begun to rain"Well, you’d better drive carefully.“ His tone is stern, authoritative. Why should he care? "Did you get everything you need?” he adds.

“Yes sir,” I reply, packing the recorder into my satchel. His eyes narrow, speculatively.

“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Kwon.”

“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he says, polite as ever.

As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.

“Until we meet again, Miss y/l/n.” And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I’m not sure which. I frown. When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.

“Mr. Kwon.” I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide.

“Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss y/l/n.” He gives me a small smile. Obviously, he’s referring to my earlier less-than-elegant entry into his office. I flush.

“That’s very considerate, Mr. Kwon,” I snap, and his smile widens. I’m glad you find me entertaining, I glower inwardly, walking into the foyer. I’m surprised when he follows me out. Andrea and Olivia both look up, equally surprised.

“Did you have a coat?” Kwon asks.

“Yes.” Olivia leaps up and retrieves my jacket, which Kwon takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on.

Kwon places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices my reaction, he gives nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting - awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his. The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here. When I turn to look at him, he’s leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It’s distracting. His burning brown eyes gaze at me.

“Y/N,” he says as a farewell.

“Ji Yong,” I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.

ME....

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dipifica · 7 years

Text

10 Things AU Chapter 2!

hi all! i know this story hasn’t been touched for quite some time (to you guys at least, i privately updated every once and a while) but i figured i would get chapter 2 out of the ten things i hate about you au (still not named). if im being completely honest, writing this story is fun but editing is not and im 100% lazy. i have general direction with this one since it’s based off something that already exists but still things are pretty up in the air. i know i’ll have to do chapters were wenbel and dippica actually start to like each other but figuring out the scenes is the hard part. i know how they all feel and what conversations need to be had, but setting it up in a fun way has been a bit troubling. because i know myself and know my processes i thought id release what i have of chapter 2. i received a very nice message about this story which sparked this idea so thank you @blue--winter ! if you read this all thanks and i would adore any feedback!

tl;dr: unfinished story, things subject to change, i’m lazy, read the story under read more

“Alright, kid,” the older man cleared his throat loudly. “You’ll be manning the gift shop while I take these bozos on tours. Just take people’s money and sell everything you can. Real simple stuff.” He coughed again as Wendy wondered about his age.

“Okay, Stan.” She replied. She was used to working retail, she had been hired and fired from around five different stores and a low key, run down gift shop sounded like the perfect part time job for her. “Just leave it to me.”

“You can call me Mr. Pines.” He muttered as he walked away. “Some of your co-workers will probably be around today, so don’t waste your time trying to sell to them.” He grabbed his 8-ball cane from the wall, took a breath, and open the door. “Ladies and Gentlemen, are you ready for the weirdest, creepiest, most jaw-dropping-eat experience of your pathetic lives!” Wendy could hear cheers before the door shut completely. She respected her new boss a little bit more for his stunning performance.

She leaned back in her chair and kicked her feet up and scrolled through her phone. She read back her messages from Gideon from last night.

Gideon Gleeful: it seems pacifica’s attempt with dipper didn’t go so well….

Wendy Corduroy: what! why! did she say something to you?

Gideon Gleeful: the fact she didn’t say anything is telling enough, when i tried to ask she told me to ‘buzz off.’ she gets even more stereotypical mean girl when she's pissed

Wendy Corduroy: are we sure dipper isn’t gay? sorry but who WOULDN’T accept pacifica’s advances?

Gideon Gleeful: we’re sure. i wouldn’t, she’s an asshole. dipper probably thinks the same thing. we just have to make him see she’s not an asshole.

Wendy Corduroy: but she is an asshole

Gideon Gleeful: she’s gonna have to be a good actor. i’m adding her into this message.

Gideon Gleeful added Pacifica Northwest

Pacifica Northwest: ugh. i don’t have any updates losers.

Pacifica Northwest: you idiots know i can read the past messages right? fuck off, i’m not an asshole

Gideon Gleeful: it’s why we loooooove you paz!!

Pacifica Northwest: you make me want to vomit gleeful

Wendy Corduroy: wanna tell us how it went yesterday?

Pacifica Northwest: well, you figured it out already. it went not well. he snubbed me, the stupid dork. he’s too preoccupied with his dumb mystery stuff to even give a girl attention, i think we need to call it off.

Gideon Gleeful: that’s just what you want

Pacifica Northwest: well, yeah.

Wendy Corduroy: is there any reason he would reject you?

Pacifica Northwest: he’s always been like this, in his own world and shit

Gideon Gleeful: wait, what?

Wendy Corduroy: pacifica, do you and dipper have a past or something?

Pacifica Northwest: uh, no? i just have been in school with the pines for my entire high school career so i know things about them, and other people for that matter. its a small school, i don't need a “past” with anybody to know basic knowledge about someone.

Pacifica Northwest: you guys figure out what you want to do. i’m going to bed.

Pacifica Northwest has left the group message

Wendy Corduroy: that was weird

Gideon Gleeful: it was….interesting…

A loud slam hit the counter next to Wendy’s feet and she suddenly jerked up, face to face with someone she was certainly not expecting.

“Hi! Wendy, right?” Mabel Pines beamed from across the counter. “I’m sorry if I scared you with the boxes.” She did a similar little giggle to the one she had during their first encounter, making Wendy’s heart dance.

“Mabel, hi.” She tried to play it her usual cool self and it helped her calm down. “Not that it isn’t great to see you, but what are you doing here? Looking for some “Magic Frog Eyeballs?” She read the container full of obviously plastic eyeballs next to her.

Mabel laughed again. “No, silly, I’m dropping off the new shirts for the Shack. That’s what’s in the boxes.”

“Oh, do you work at the manufacture’s shop or something?”

“I work here, you didn’t know?” Mabel questioned. “Well, the Mystery Shack is family owned! My great-uncle Stan, Dipper, and I work here together. And our handyman, Soos, he’s basically one of the family too.”

Wendy’s face burned bright red. She was her co-worker. Not only that, but her family owned her place of work. Fate either loved her or hated her. “Wow,” Wendy mustered a cool chuckle. “I gotta say, I’m embarrassed that I had no idea.”

Mabel gave another bright smile. “Oh don’t be! It’s not like the Mystery Shack is a huge sight for new-comers like yourself. I don’t think I would have known about it if my family wasn’t involved.” Mabel’s face turned a bit colder. “Besides, it’s more a curse than a blessing to be associated with this place.”

“Because of your brother?” Wendy put a hand over her mouth just after the sentence was uttered. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like-“

Mabel smiled again, only slightly and Wendy worried if she had just ruined her chances. Along with the fact she didn’t want to insult such a nice girl. “No, it’s fine. People talk and it seems like Dipper is usually the name in everyone’s mouths. I’m used to it.” Mabel pulled herself up from leaning on the counter. “I should go, I’m meeting up with some friends.” She began to turn away and Wendy felt utterly terrible. “Oh, Wendy?” She faced her again. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Please don’t believe everything everyone says about my brother.” Mabel said with pleading eyes. “He’s…my best friend. He’s a really sweet, good guy, he’s just passionate about…weird stuff. It breaks my heart people think he’s not good. I really want things to turn around for him.”

Wendy saw the pain Mabel endured whenever someone degraded Dipper in that moment. The pain of seeing a loved one suffer and not being able to help. “I won’t. If you say he’s a good guy, I believe you.”

Mabel smiled gently at Wendy. “Thank you.” Mabel laughed loudly, seemingly turning around her mood. “Wow, I’m sorry for getting so serious like that, and we just met, you probably think I’m such a weirdo. I guess I feel like I can trust you already, Wendy.”

Wendy blushed slightly and, for what felt like the hundredth time in this short meeting, tried to keep her cool. “You love your brother, nothing weird about that. I sure as hell know I love mine.”

“You are too cool, Wendy.” Mabel parted with this and seemed to flow out the door.

Wendy sighed and watched the door lovingly and thought about how whipped she was already.

“Uh, hi?” A voice said from the other side of the counter.

Wendy recognized the boy as the Dipper Pines. The vital piece to her plan to get her girl. She felt like this already knew him, having talked about him so much in her few days here, but realized they had never been formally introduced.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Hi.” Wendy greeted. “You’re Dipper, right? I’m Wendy. I’m your new cashier.”

The two shook hands. “Yeah, Stan told me something about a new employee. I’m surprised someone even applied.”

“Well, to be honest, I’m not really one for hard work. This seemed easy.” Wendy admitted.

Dipper smiled and Wendy thought about how much he really did look like Mabel. “You chose the right job. Not many people roll through here. Trust me, I’m usually the one in your chair.”

“Oh, your sister doesn’t work much?”

“She’s more social than I am. Parties and friends and all that.” Dipper trailed off. “Besides, I guess you can say I’m more into the whole idea behind the Mystery Shack. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

“I…uh…” Wendy stuttered, Dipper was more upfront than she thought he would be.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m aware what people say about me. I figured it would have gotten around to even a new kid like you.”

Wendy considered lying to him, saying she didn’t hear anything, but remembered Mabel could tell him at any point about their conversation from just moments ago. “I…have heard some things, yeah.” Dipper nodded. “But, uh, I don’t believe what everyone is saying. I know this is our first conversation but you have a sister like Mabel so I’m sure your just as good.”

Dipper remained silent for a moment and smiled again. “Well, I don’t know about just as good, but I appreciate you saying so.”

Just then, the door to the gift shop swung open revealing a familiar face to both Dipper and Wendy. “Helloooooooo, Mystery Shack!” Gideon greeted.

“Ugh.” Dipper mumbled.

“Gideon.” Wendy simply stated. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see my favorite cashier at my favorite creepy, weird, and totally fake gift shop. Really, Pines, tell your uncle to step the game up.”

“At least we have a shop, you failed psychic.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“We don’t talk about that Pines. Besides, I was like nine, let it go.” He glared. “So how goes….things, Wendy?” Gideon eyed Dipper.

“Wendy, you don’t have to humor this idiot.” Dipper said. “Is she your new object of affection after failed Mabel attempts?”

“Wendy’s gay and we’re friends, try again.” Gideon snapped.

“You two are friends?” Dipper turned to face Wendy.

“He showed me around school my first day. He’s a little weird, but I’m having fun with it.” Wendy shrugged.

“A little weird?” Gideon repeated.

“You are really something.” Dipper told Wendy. “Well, I guess it’s good you aren’t so affected by high school gossip. Even when you should be.” Dipper’s eyes darted to Gideon.

“Look who’s talking, Mr. I’ve-been-suspended-three-times-for-putting-the-entire-student-body-in-danger!” Gideon growled.

“That’s way too long of a last name!” Dipper face palmed. “I’m going, I can’t stand to be around you for more than a couple of minutes.”

“Aw, best friends forever, Dippy!” Gideon waved sarcastically.

“Bye Wendy.” Dipper ignored Gideon and shut the door on his way out.

“I thought he would ever leave.” Gideon sighed.

“It’s his house.” Wendy remarked. “By the way, I had no idea the Pines owned this place! Ugh, I was so embarrassed when I ran into Mabel today.”

“How’d it go?”

Wendy thought back to the time. “Not as bad as you would think. I think she at least likes me as a person.”

“Well, it’s not you and Mabel we have to worry about anyway, it’s-“

“Me and Dipper.” A voice called from the door.

“You’re late, Northwest.” Gideon checked his watch.

“I’m a busy girl, and I had to make sure no one saw me come in here. I almost got caught by Dipper on his way out.” She slumped down in a stool next to Wendy. “Why did you call me here?”

“I’m wondering the same thing.” Wendy stated, she did enjoy the distraction from the otherwise boredom of work.

“Because it seems fairly obvious we need to have a more of a concrete plan set here. Pacifica,” Gideon turned to her. “You don’t have to tell us shit but you do need to do seduce Dipper, in any way possible. I think you need to apologize to him, since it seems like you did something to him.”

“You guys didn’t say anything about apolo-apologi- I can’t even say it!” Pacifica crossed her arms. She didn’t feel the need to inform them of her previous half-assed apology to him.

“What did you expect? He was still going to fall for you after you did something bad to him?”

“Uh, yeah? It’s happened plenty of times before.” She flipped her hair.

“This is Dipper. You are gonna need to show him you can be sweet. Even though you aren’t.”

“Hey!” Pacifica yelled.

“He’s not going to fall for the real you. So he will have to fall for the fake you.” Gideon stated simply. “Fake Pacifica is the opposite of real Pacifica.”

“So, ugly and boring?”

“I was thinking more nerdy and nice. Just…be interested in his weird habits, leave Mabel alone, and laugh at his dumb jokes. And apologize.” Gideon demanded. Wendy was surprised at how much her new friend took charge. “And you,” Wendy suddenly found herself the target. “Be prepared to ask Mabel out at any moment. Dipper’s unpredictable and we can’t have some other girl or guy showing you up when the news hits Mabel is able to date.”

“Is she that sought after?” Wendy asked.

“You fell for her with one glance and you aren’t exactly special.” Pacifica piped up. “As weird as Mabel can be, she's cute and nice to everyone, so people are naturally drawn to her. Don’t ask me why, I don’t fucking get it.”

“Unlike you who gets their suitors by being cold and demeaning.” Gideon replied.

“It’s not my fault guys love the chase.” Pacifica smirked. “Are we done here?”

“Do you have a plan for getting Dipper?” Gideon questioned. “It’s hard to trust you. No offense.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes and groaned. “Gleeful, I’m pretty and not dumb okay? I know how to make a dweeb fall in love with me. Of course I have a plan.” Pacifica picked up her purse and stood up. “I have some shopping to get to now. Meeting adjured.”

“You can’t call meeting adjured when I called the meeting-hey!” Gideon shouted. “Are you at least going to tell us your plan!”

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“Northwest secret, sorry!” Pacifica chuckled, shutting the door.

#10 things au #dippica #dipifica #wenbel #writing #rough draft dont drag me

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mammawolff · 7 years

Note

i saw your submission to doubleshuck and im incredibly interested in hearing other paranormal stories you have, particularly the wendigos if you'd be willing to share!!

Of course! I have a literal lifetime of paranormal and cryptid stories to share- growing up "gifted" and on a variety of farms certainly helped with this. From average hauntings to not-so average haunting, angry native spirits and more. For now, the thing I never say aloud: Wendigo. Typically an Eastern legend, not usually found out West where I am, until recent reports claim otherwise. When I was younger, my family and I would make multiple trips a year out to the nearby park(Waterton National, for those wondering) in the summer. Family bonding, or whatever. This started from the time I was 5, until I was 11 or so. This particular instance happened when I was 7 or 8, I believe. Again, I have timeline recall problems so though I do my best to remember when things happened specifically, sometimes I may be a little off. Our trips started out the same, every time. Bear's hump to warm up, then down to Cameron falls, lunch at the lake, an hour or so shopping, then the afternoon in red Rock canyon. This time, we had to make a few adjustments to our usual schedule. We made it up Bear's Hump just fine. Because this particular hike is up a straight cliff, the path is entirely switchbacks. Pretty tiring for a young kid(especially the pudgemeister I was) so we took our time, and my siblings reached the top well before myself and my mother did, as usual. We sat and listened to the wind blowing for a while before heading back down. Side note: Now, I have recently seen that the path has changed since the years I've been there. I went a few weeks ago and noticed parts of the paths washed out, and it had to be rebuilt slightly differently. The new path certainly doesn't allow this behavior. On our way down, I noticed that a section of switchbacks would allow a portly kid like myself to run straight down the mountain, and win any potential races he or she may have with their siblings. So, I dared my brothers to a race. "First one down gets the bag of jerky!" I shouted back at them, and immediately flew down off the path. It was damn good elk jerky, okay, from my uncle.Disclaimer: this is stupid. My brothers followed suite quickly, and raced down after me, though I already had a considerable lead. Dread grew, but I pushed it down and focused on not tripping and falling down the damn mountain. As such, I didn't notice what I was approaching at lightning speed until I passed, locked eyes, and threw away all concerns of falling and pumped my chubby little legs harder and faster. You see, I suspect I surprised it as much as it surprised me. It was standing watching the path, waiting for someone to approach close enough to snatch without anyone noticing. It wasn't expecting a rounded ball of a kid to come bouncing down the mountain with the force of a thousand suns- which is why I'm certain I'm alive today. The creature stood probably 15-18 feet tall, though I could be wrong because of a child's perspective, but it stood as tall as the shortest trees around it. Nearly pitch-black, with white-yellow gleaming eyes set in a bulbous skull atop a spindling frame. The arms at its side ended with massive hands, the claws at least 8 inches if not more. I say I startled it because that was the expression it gave me as I passed. The unmistakable confusion paired with an unspoken "the fuck?" Written in its eyes. I do not know if it followed me, but I certainly didn't stop to find out. Thankfully in the small parking lot, there was a larger RV-type truck, with a smaller red pick-up parked "behind" it(in regards to the creature), which hid the pick-up from view of the path. An older gentleman was getting into the pick-up as I hit the pavement, turned, and leaped into the back of his truck. I don't know if this is a common occurrence or if it was the terror bleeding from my every pore, but he didn't question me. Rather he just started the truck and immediately drove off with me in laying flat in the bed. He stopped in front of the rcmp office in the middle of the hamlet, where I thanked him. He asked what I saw, and I shook my head. "A-a bear, I suppose." He nodded solemnly before telling me, "It's best not to name some things, girl. Brings them to you. You saw a bear, and that's what you'll tell the rangers, too." I nodded in agreement before he drove off. And that's exactly what I told the rangers. There was a bear, I got scared, and I hid in someone's truck as he was driving and he didn't notice until I sat up and scared the bajeezes out of him. Mum was pissed, and we ended up leaving the park early because of my "irresponsibility." I asked my brothers if they had seen anything. Two answered a bit too quickly with "No," but B said "A.. bear. Big and scary and on her hind legs to protect her cubs." He told me recently that he knew it wasn't a bear, and he knew I knew. But again, sometimes Rules don't need to be spoken to be understood. My second encounter was when I was 15 or so. I was fairly active in the LDS church, as that's what I had been raised into and what I was to comply with if I wanted a good relationship with my parents. As such, every year we(the women in the church) went camping somewhere, usually included a hike somewhere new and wonderful. Occasionally the men are involved, too, and this was one of those times. Unfortunately I do not remember the name of this hike, as despite the encounter, I would love to go back because I do have some fond memories of friends since passed there. This particular hike was a couple miles long along the side of a mountain/valley, where at the end a beautiful lake formed. A ranger accompanied us with a gun just in case. Everyone got to the lake just fine, we sang our song, and headed back. The faster "pods" of people quickly passed myself and the "slow pod" of friends I was with(I unfortunately did not lose the pudge I was granted in childhood), and the ranger stayed behind with us to make sure we were the last off the mountain. About a mile back to the trucks, our pod was fairly isolated, and a friend quietly said "oh, look! A bear!" And pointed across the valley to the other mountainside, where in a smaller clearing free of trees a bear ran past. He was headed away from us, down the mountainside and towards the lake, so the ranger did nothing but watch. The other kids kept walking a few moments after spotting the bear, as darkness would fall sooner rather than later and nobody wanted to be close to the bear when it did. And besides, we had all seen bears before. But the ranger continued watching, and I thought it strange so I did too. I followed his gaze back to where we first saw the bear, and quietly gasped in horror when a tree detached itself from the edge of the treeline, hunched down to run on all fours after the bear, almost like trying to hide in the openness of the clearing. It had similar characteristics of the creature I saw in Waterton, from what I could tell. Impossibly long, spindled body and limbs, and I could see its claws glisten in the dying sunlight even from the half mile distance between us. I can only assume it didn't see us, or was more interested in the fresh blood of the bear so nearby to it, but as I met eyes with the ranger and he made a "shushing" motion with his finger as he continued down the path. After a few moments he said quietly, no louder than the wind, "There are some things that shouldn't be named out loud. Written down, that's fine. But never spoken." I nodded and said "I've seen bears like that before, sir." And we hurried the group along, reminding them of the ever falling night, and the danger of falling it brings. So, yeah. I never speak of Wendigo, and you will never hear me say their name. Only in writing, and even then I burn sage and dragon's blood to keep me protected. Boy howdy I would sure love to tag this but mobile hates to tag asks! When I get the chance I will edit this with #lupine blogging, #creepy, #long ass post and #cryptids.If you wanna hear more, send an ask! Ask about the reaper in the hallway 😋 the angry native is a good one, too. I also have some experiences to share of my brother's, B. Things happened before I was born, I guess.

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relationshipadviser-blog · 5 years

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Esther Perel: 'Fix the sex and your relationship will transform'

New Post has been published on https://relationshipqia.com/must-see/esther-perel-fix-the-sex-and-your-relationship-will-transform/

Esther Perel: 'Fix the sex and your relationship will transform'

Esther Perels breathtakingly frank therapy podcasts Where should we begin not only make for juicy listening, theyve revitalised the stale private lives of millions. Miranda Sawyer listens to the psychotherapist

Passion has always existed, says Esther Perel. People have known love forever, but it never existed in the context of the same relationship where you have to have a family and obligations. And reconciling security and adventure, or love and desire, or connection and separateness, is not something you solve with Victorias Secret. And there is no Victors Secret. This is a more complicated existential dilemma. Reconciling the erotic and the domestic is not a problem that you solve. It is a paradox that you manage.

Ooh, Perel is a great lunch date. All psychotherapists are, in my experience, but shes particularly interesting. Sex, relationships, children; she covers them all in the two hours we spend together. But also collective trauma, migration, otherness, freedom all the good stuff.

Perel is a practising couples and family therapist who lives in New York. Aside from her clinical work she counsels around 12 couples or individuals each week she has two best-selling books: one about maintaining desire in long-term relationships (Mating in Captivity), the other about infidelity (The State of Affairs). She has released two fascinating podcast series, called Where Should We Begin?, where listeners get to listen in on real-life couples having therapy with her. The podcast is where I first came across her its won a British Podcast Award, a Gracie Award in the States and was named as the Number One podcast by GQ.

On top of all this, she hosts workshops and lectures as well as the inevitable TED talks, one of which has been watched more than 5m times. I went to one of her London appearances earlier this year. Alain de Botton was the host and he introduced Perel with quite some hyperbole, calling her one of the greatest people alive on Earth right now. (Perel dismissed this afterwards, though she likes de Botton: He put me on such a platter.)

Esther Perel sometimes sings to her clients; she tells them off quite a lot, especially if they think sex should come naturally. Photograph: Jean Goldsmith for the Observer

The reason for Perels popularity is her clear eye on modern relationships. She says, rightly, that we expect much more from our marriages and long-term relationships than we used to. For centuries, marriage was framed within duty, rather than love. But now, love is the bedrock. We have a service model of relationships, she says to me. Its the quality of the experience that matters. She has a great turn of phrase: The survival of the family depends on the happiness of the couple. Divorce happens now not because we are unhappy, but because we could be happier. We will have many relationships over the course of our lives. Some of us will have them with the same person.

For a while, Perel wasnt taken particularly seriously by the therapist community: she tells me that when Mating in Captivity came out in 2006, it was only the sexologists that thought it was great. This is because her thinking went against long-established relationship wisdom, namely that if you fix the relationship through talking therapy, then the sex will fix itself. Perel does not agree. She says that, yes, this might work, but I worked with so many couples that improved dramatically in the kitchen, and it did nothing for the bedroom. But if you fix the sex, the relationship transforms.

We meet in a boutique hotel in Amsterdam, where Perel orders her food in fluent Dutch. She has a light Belgian accent (she says boat for both), and she wears some delicate gold jewellery, a bit like the Indian hath panja, on her right hand. (Both of these seem to excite American journalists, along with Perels good looks. A relationship therapist who you might fancy, shocker!)

We begin talking about her podcast series. Its an astonishing listen, partly because you get to earwig other peoples problems (always great) and partly because Esthers methods are so flexible: in the first series she got one young woman to wear a blindfold while her partner inhabited a more assertive sexual character, which he did by speaking in French. She sometimes sings to her clients; she tells them off quite a lot, especially if they think sex should come naturally: Who the hell told you that BS?

Series three, released next month, is slightly different to the last two. This time round Perel very deliberately chooses couples at different stages, because she wants to show an arc of a relationship, all the way to its end. Also, she says, I wanted to bring in the way that relationships exist in a larger, social, cultural, context. That context often gives a script about how one should think about suicide, about gender, about divorce and so forth. So we hear from a young couple coping with enforced distance in their relationship: one is US-born and the other is Mexican, without a US visa. Another is a mother and her child, who does not identify as either gender. Another couple, with a young child, have divorced, but seem to get along much better now: why?

Perel finds her podcast therapees via her Facebook page: they apply in their thousands. Her podcast producers sift through, using guidelines that Perel suggests them: this time round she knew she wanted to cover infertility and also suicide. Then theres a lengthy pre-recording interview process where its explained to the couples that, yes, this really is going on air and, yes, they might be recognised (from their voices; theyre anonymous otherwise). Are you OK in understanding that your story will become a collective story? You will be giving so much to others, as well. Its not just for you, actually. And then they have a one-off session with Perel for three to four hours, edited down to around 45 minutes for the podcast.

She loves the format. The intimacy of it, the private listening of it, the fact that you dont see them, thus you see yourself. You hear them but you see you. It reflects you in the mirror. But also, surely, its quite exposing for you? Oh yes. People can come and hear me give a talk, but theyve never seen me do the work and you cant talk about what you do. But when you write a book, that is the first part of exposure. Then comes TED and the podcast. If you ask, What does Perel do? My colleagues know how I do.

Perel is 60 now; I wondered how she found being a relationship therapist when she was younger, in her 20s. Werent clients put off by her youth? Actually, Ive always found that the age of the clients goes up with me, she says. It mirrors. I dont know why. She doesnt think lived experience is necessary, though sometimes she wonders how she had the chutzpah to counsel parents before she became one herself (now she has two grown-up sons; shes still married to their dad, Jack Saul, who is a professor and an expert in psychosocial trauma). But then I have worked a lot with addiction, and Im not an addict.

Interestingly, she came to therapy via drama. Drama and collective trauma. She was the second child of Polish Jews who came to Belgium as Holocaust survivors (Perels first passport was a stateless passport of the UN). In Belgium, they became part of a community of 15,000 Jewish refugees.

Loss, trauma, dismantlement of the community, immigration, refugees All these themes that I observe in the world today, were basically mothers milk to me, she says. Everybody had an accent, a good number of people had the number on their arms. There were no grandparents around, there were no uncles. Its all I knew. Its different than if it was just your parents. Its every home I went to. One of Perels earliest memories is of card games where her parents would talk of a friend, and someone would say, casually, Ah, he was gassed, he didnt make it.

Perels parents had her older brother in 1946, then she came along 12 years later. This was not uncommon. When people came out of the camps, the first thing they did to prove that they were still human was to have a child. They waited to get their periods back, and then they had a child. But then there was a gap of 8, 10, 12 years before they had another. Perel thinks this was because the parents needed to establish themselves in society. Hers ran a clothes shop in Antwerp. The family lived above the shop. They spoke five languages: Polish, Yiddish, German, French and Flemish. Every evening they watched the news in German, French and Flemish, to get a good all-round view.

Divorce happens now not because we are unhappy, but because we could be happier: Esther Perel. Photograph: Jean Goldsmith for the Observer

As a teenager, she was interested in psychology, mostly because she hated the strictness of school. She read Summerhill: A Radical Approach to Child-Rearing, about a British school run like a democracy, and from there she moved to Freud. I was interested in understanding myself better and in people around me. People dynamics. I was quite melancholic and I was often wondering, How does one live better? How do you talk to your mother so she understands you better? Id say the primary ingredient I had was curiosity. I was a massively curious person I still am. She was also a good listener a confidante for her friends. I tell her she would have made a great journalist, and she agrees: That would have been my other career.

After school she went to study in Jerusalem, a university course that combined French linguistics and literature. More importantly, she developed her interest in theatre, which had begun in early adolescence. I assumed she was an actor, but shes talking of improv and street theatre, with puppets, of all things. Big ones, you hold them on two long high sticks, or I did hand puppets. She liked the immediate contact with people and gradually, she found herself merging these skills with her studies, doing theatre with gangs,with street girls,with Druze,with foreign students. At one point she went to Paris to study under Augusto Boal, who created the Theatre of the Oppressed. He would stage fake crises in everyday situations: actors pretending to have a physical row on the Metro, for instance. Perel found it interesting to see which passers-by would get involved and which would turn away.

She moved to New York to do her Masters. She specialised in identity and immigration How is the experience of the migrant different if it is voluntary migration or forced migration? and in how minority communities relate to each other. She led workshops for what were then called mixed couples: interracial, intercultural, interreligious. I knew the cultural issues. I knew how to run a group. I dont think I knew much about couples dynamics.

Around that time her husband, who is a few years older than her, suggested she might enjoy systemic family therapy. I ask what this is. For a long time when people looked at a problem, they thought the problem is located within the person, says Perel. But systemic family therapy thinks that a family, or a relationship, is made up of interdependent parts. What is the interactive dynamic that preserves this thing, that makes this child not go to bed? That makes this man never get a job? That makes this son be such a nincompoop? How is the family system organised around it? You need two to create a pattern, or three or four or five.

Its interesting how therapy has trends, I say, and how those trends manifest themselves in actual life. Couples therapy goes in parallel to the cultural changes and the expectations in a culture, says Perel. During the 1980s her married clients didnt come to her because their sex life was bad, they came because of domestic violence or alcoholism, not because we dont talk any more. Back then, the shame was to get divorced at all, even if one half cheated; now its not to get divorced if one half cheats. She saw clients having problems with infertility, the changing role of women and daughters, the Aids crisis. In the 90s, single mothers, blended families, gay couples with kids. Todays problems, she says, are often centred around people marrying later, after a sexually nomadic youth. Also, modern fatherhood dads wanting to be more involved in childcare and monogamy versus polyamory. Straight couples are becoming more gay, gay couples more straight.

The obvious question, of course, which she has been asked many times, is how Perels own relationship works. She doesnt like to give too many details, but what she does say is that she and Saul give each other a lot of freedom If youve had an interesting life, you have more to bring back, something that energises the couple and that they renegotiate their relationship as it changes. At the moment her husband is entering what she calls a third stage, and he wants to paint more. This means he will be away from New York a lot, while she is usually in New York or travelling herself. We need to, once again, come up with a new rhythm of how we create separateness and togetherness. Its a fundamental task.

She wants others not to copy her own relationship, but to use her work as a way to better their own relationship for themselves. And plenty do. Just the other week a young woman came up to her and asked for a selfie. She said, My boyfriend listens to you all the time, and he comes home and he says, Have you listened to this episode, we need to talk? The podcast is a transitional object, a bridge for conversation. Like a teddy bear that you hold and you say: Its OK, dont be worried.

Like when couples talk through their dog, I say.

Yes, she says. There is such disarray and such hunger about getting help on how we manage our relationships today, on navigating the challenges For the first time we have the freedom of being able to design our relationships in a way that we were never capable of doing before, or allowed to do before. So, I dont give the details of my relationship. Instead I will give you the tools to come up with your own thing.

Season 3 of Esther Perels Where Should We Begin is available exclusively on Audible from 5 October

Try this at home

Three ways to change the way you think about your partner at home

Pay attention to what is important to the other What happens in a couple is that we often give to the other what we want them to give to us. If somebody is upset, you dont talk to them, because when you are upset you like to be left alone. It isnt necessarily what they need.

Roles are often patterns rather than habits If you really want the other person to take out the rubbish, you have to be able to spend two weeks not doing it. You dont say anything. You just wait until the other person finally notices it. When youre not there, the other person sorts the bin. They can do it. Its just that when youre there theyd prefer not to.

Women are not less interested in sex than men, theyre less interested in the sex they can have What makes women lose that interest? Domesticity. Motherhood. The mother thinks about others the whole time. The mother is not busy focusing on herself. In order to be turned on you have to be focused on yourself in the most basic way. The same woman whos numb in the house gets turned on when she leaves. She doesnt need hormones. Change the story.

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

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alegendarystudentwonderland-blog · 6 years

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