#Josephine was wasted on him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ginabaker1666 · 18 days

Text

All Of Me

From the Love Letters Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

Jo struggles with her response to Rosie's first letter but later finds help in an unlikely friend with shared common ground. It's his second letter back-to-back, however, that stacks her worry like wobbly apple crates, ready to tumble at a moment's notice.

Read part 2 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

October 1943

My Dearest Robbie,

Today is Halloween, so it would be remiss of me not to wish you a Happy one. I know you won’t be celebrating; not that we are either, but it’s still heartwarming to see some of the littles in the neighborhood running up and down the streets looking for sweets. I’m saving a Hershey bar for when you’re back, so that we can share it like we always do. The leaves have all turned by now, and Prospect Park is a beautiful shade of golden hues. I’ve taken to walking with your sister, as it fills a small void in my days. She’s excellent company, and somehow always has some local gossip at the ready for when I need cheering up. I couldn’t help myself and told her the story of your bicycling disaster. Please don’t be too mad at me. I hope that by now, you’ve learned to ride a bike properly, and that poor Pappy hasn’t had to fish you out of any more ditches. Please thank him for me, because I don’t know what I would have done if he had not been there to rescue you.

If I know you at all, I know that you’ve been hemming and hawing over the weather over there, but the longer it rains in England, the better I feel knowing you’re on solid ground. I’m glad to know you’re able to find some respite in the Officers Club, even if it’s just some jazz records and mediocre scotch. Good company can make all the difference and it warms my heart to know you have that in your crew and fellow officers. I’m putting my bet in now on Nash and the Red Cross girl. Having someone is important, so if he finds that in her, I’m glad for them both. Tell Pappy not to be so pessimistic though, I’m sure Nash will make her very happy.

Speaking of having someone waiting, I paid a visit to Harry Crosby’s wife, Jean. I thought she could use a friend, so we spent an afternoon in the city, having lunch and doing some shopping. It’s lonely enough moving to a new city, but with her husband overseas, I can’t imagine how she feels. I know how I feel waiting for you, and so she must feel it tenfold. With the holidays approaching, I’ve invited her to spend Thanksgiving with us. I couldn’t bear the idea of her spending it alone. She’s a darling woman, and I agree, we will have to double with her and Harry once you’re both home.

Sweetheart, how you could ever think that I will not worry about you while you’re over there, is a mystery. I will worry, and miss you, every single day until you’re back home. I will be holding you to that date, Robbie, and am counting the days until we’re on the dance floor, together. Until then…

Forever yours,

Reaching for the bottle of perfume on the dresser, Jo quickly spritzed a generous helping of the floral scent on the paper in her hand, to ensure it lasted the long journey, before folding it up and sliding it into its designated envelope. Carefully, and with a delicate hand, she addressed the letter to Thorpe Abbotts Airbase. She had received Rosie’s first letter earlier in the week, and had spent that time drafting multiple responses; all of which had ended up in the waste paper basket in the corner of her bedroom. She had spent three nights mulling it over, before deciding that she should clear her head, and write as if he was sitting next to her. Well, it was not so much her deciding as it was advice from Jean Crosby. If anyone had experience in writing these types of letters, it was Jean. And so, Jo had written as if Rosie was sitting next to her; as if he was leaning across the table and telling her the details of his latest adventure with enthusiasm, and she had written back with equal vigor.

Picking up the letter, and her purse, she made her way from the bedroom, downstairs to where her mother was having coffee with Mrs. Rosenthal. Entering the kitchen, both women ceased their discussion to greet her, her mother holding out an envelope for her.

“Josephine, this came in the mail for you.”

Jo gently plucked the envelope from her mothers hand, smiling when she saw the handwriting on the front was none other than Rosie’s. Carefully, she slipped it into her purse to read once she was alone.

“Another letter so quickly?” Her mother’s grin widened. “He must miss you terribly.”

“He doesn’t write to me that frequently,” Mrs. Rosenthal joked, sending a subtle wink in Jo’s direction. “But then again, he’s not in love with me.”

“Somehow, I think he’ll always love you most, Mrs. Rosenthal, and I’m quite alright with that.” Jo smiled.

“Where are you off to?” Her mother asked, noticing that she had her purse in hand.

“Off to post this to Robbie, and then to meet Jean Crosby for lunch.”

“Oh, well then, travel safely, and let her know she’s welcome to come here for dinner tonight if she wants.”

“I’ll let her know, mom,” Jo smiled, moving to bid her mother goodbye with a quick peck to the cheek, before doing the same with Mrs. Rosenthal. “Now, you two can go back to your gossip.”

“It’s not gossip, Josephine, if we’re talking about our children.” The older woman’s voice held a lilt to it as Jo exited the kitchen.

“Then stop planning our wedding!” Jo called back with a laugh as she exited their home and made her way out into the Brooklyn sunshine.

The fall air was chilly, but not unbearably so as she walked down the block to the Post Office, letter in hand and a prayer in her mind that it would reach Rosie safely. She knew that the post could be unreliable, and take time to reach those stationed overseas, but she hoped against all odds that maybe her letter would get to its intended recipient a little faster than all the rest. It was silly of her to think so, after all, she wasn’t the only woman in New York who was missing her sweetheart, but this was new to her. To both of them. Beginning a romance with thousands of miles between them. Some days Jo regretted not saying anything sooner, wondering if they would have had time before he shipped out. But, then she thinks to herself that they did have time; years together growing up, and learning the ways of each other inside and out, and for that she would always be thankful.

A short cab ride later, and Jo was knocking on Jean Crosby’s front door. When the door swung open, Jean on the other side, the two women greeted each other as if they were old friends. A kinship that was shared in the dark times of war, but somehow found a ray of light to brighten their days.

“Jo! I was starting to think you got lost!” Her friend teased.

“No,” Jo grinned, red lips stretched into a smile. “I had to stop by the post and drop off Robbie’s letter.”

“Finally finished it, then?”

“I did. And just in time to reply to the one I got this morning.”

“Back to back?” Jean looked at her, eyebrow raised in what Jo could only describe as concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jean sighed, stopping mid way of pulling her white gloves on, to face Jo with a serious expression.

“Well…”

“You don’t think…”

“The only time I get back to back letters from Bing, is when something bad is happening over there.”

“Jean…”

“If it came from him, he’s fine, honey.” she reached out, hand coming down over Jo’s in reassurance.

“It’s in my purse,” Jo confessed. “I haven’t read it yet.”

“Do you want to go sit and read it before we leave?”

“I suppose I’d feel better if I knew for sure he was alright.”

Nodding, Jean pulled off her gloves, and dropped her purse back on the credenza by the door, before guiding Jo further into the house.

Once settled in the living room, Jean began to step away, to allow Jo the privacy that a letter from your man overseas deserved, when Jo’s hand shot out to stop her.

“Could you…?”

“Of course.” Jean smiled softly, settling into the sofa next to her, but with enough space not to read over her shoulder.

Jo carefully opened the envelope, fingers trembling as she slid the paper from its confines. Unfolding it, her eyes scanned over the paper quickly, before releasing a shuddering breath of relief.

“He’s alright,” her hand flew to her chest as the words escaped her. “He’s somewhere called the Flak House?”

“Never heard of that,” Jean looked confused. “What is it?”

My Dearest Jo,

Sweetheart, I can’t promise this letter will be as happy as my last one. What I can promise is that I’m alright, and spending the next week in the English countryside at a place called the Flak House. It’s a place used to help soldiers rest after rough missions. Jo, it’s been three rough ones, back to back, with what felt like no end in sight. I will spare you the details, because you shouldn’t have to read about all of the blood, and horrors, but I do sadly need to tell you that we lost Herbert Nash on the first mission. It happened so quickly, it didn’t register until I had my feet on the ground again. I broke the news to Helen, his Red Cross girl, and I pray that what I saw on her face, is something no one will ever have to see on yours.

One day, maybe, I will give you the details of our third mission, but for now, I know I should be counting my blessings. And enjoying this time, because sweetheart, this estate truly is something, but the kind of something I would want to be enjoying with you. Together, in the warm sun, reading our favorite books, or rowing on the lake. The boys are enjoying their week of R&R, but I can’t find it in me to relax. Though, I suppose you knew that already. Nobody knows me better than you, Jo, and it’s a time like this that I wish I had you near.

I couldn’t sleep, which is the reason for this letter, and I think a part of it is that I needed to make sure you knew I was alright. The other part of me, in some way, needed to get this all off my chest. I’m sorry for burdening you with these ugly truths. I’ll try not to do it often, and I hope that it doesn’t become a habit with every mission, that I’m left rattled to my core with fear. I can hear you telling me to take care of myself, and honey, I promise I’m trying. By the time this makes it to you back home, I will be long gone from my stay here, and back on base. I’m sorry for the short letter, darling. I promise the next one will be longer, and happier. Until then…

All of my love, always

Robbie

Jo finished reading, her stomach dropping as she turned to Jean, to confirm that the other woman had in fact, been right.

“Jo, what is it?”

“He couldn’t say much, spared most of the details, but he said it was rough up there.”

“Is he alright?”

“Robbie’s fine,” Jo confirmed. “But, Herbert Nash, is dead.”

“Oh that poor Red Cross girl!” She gasped, hand coming to cover her mouth in shock. “Didn’t they just meet?”

“They did,” Jo nodded. “I told Robbie I was rooting for the pair in the letter I just posted.”

“How could you have known?”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel sore over it.”

“I know you do,” Jean sympathized. The woman had enough sense to stand, and pull Jo up with her, knowing if she didn’t get them out of the house, her friend would likely spiral with worry. “Now come on, put that letter back in your purse, and let’s get out of the house for a bit.”

With a sigh, Jo nodded, and carefully put the letter back in the safety of her purse, before turning and following Jean towards the front door. For now, she could breathe easy, knowing that Rosie was safe. She knew that his mind was likely full of dark clouds, replaying events of the damage over and over, causing him grief and sadness; it brought with it a melancholy feeling that she wasn’t with him, and couldn’t be there for him to lean on. She knew he had his crew, and now, Harry Crosby, and she prayed that he had the sense to use that to his advantage.

Jo was grateful that she had Jean. Their afternoon out kept her mind off of the letter that was burning a hole in her purse, and the man who was an ocean away, suffering the loss of a friend. They had stopped by the Automat for lunch, before taking the train uptown for some window shopping, and at Jo’s insistence, a new hat for Jean. By the time she had gotten back home, her mother was already cleaning up dinner. Her father was in the living room, the radio on while he listened to the nightly news.

“Josephine, you missed dinner.” Her mother lamented at the sound of the front door closing behind her.

“I’m sorry, mom,” Jo sighed, entering the kitchen and sliding into one of the empty chairs. “We got a late start on our lunch.”

Turning from her spot at the sink, Mrs. Harris surveyed her daughter, before promptly shutting the water and moving to sit across from her.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Jean and I just had a busy day is all.”

“Josephine, don’t lie to me.” She spoke with the authority of a mother who meant business, and Jo couldn’t help the few tears that escaped from behind her eyes.

“Robbie’s letter,” she swiftly wiped away the first stray tear. “Oh mom, he lost one of his closest friends!”

Mrs. Harris let out a shuddering breath at Jo’s admission. The fear she had felt at the sight of her daughter's tears made her think the absolute worst for the young man who had become part of their family, and stolen her daughter’s heart.

“Who was it?” Mrs. Harris asked.

“Herbert Nash. He trained with Robbie in Texas, and he was killed on their first mission.”

“May his soul rest in peace.” Mrs. Harris made the sign of the cross.

“Robbie said it was so bad, three flights, back to back. He didn’t say much else, just that it was too much blood and horror to share.”

“Jesus, that poor boy.”

Jo fished the letter from her purse, sliding it across the table to her mother, giving a small nod for her to read it.

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“Just the once.” Jo smiled slightly.

“Well, alright then.”

Mrs. Harris pulled the paper from the envelope, and then the only sound in the room was the breathing of mother and daughter, and the muffled sound of the radio coming from the living room. The pair sat together until Jo’s mother folded the paper back up, and handed it back to her. The silence was growing thicker the longer they sat there, neither sure of what to say. When Jo’s father joined them in the kitchen, the two women seemed to snap out of their daze.

“What’s going on in here then?”

“She’s got another letter from Robert.”

“Didn’t you just get one? Is he alright?”

Jo nor her mother missed the recognition in Mr. Harris’ eyes. Having served in The Great War, he knew what could be in any one of the letters his daughter received, and he hoped for her sake, that none of them would make her cry the way she was now.

“He’s fine. Lost a man during his first mission, and was sent to an estate for rest.” Her mother filled him in for her.

“Jesus, already? Didn’t the boy just get over there?” Her father looked shocked.

“He said it was really bad, dad.” Jo spoke up, finding her voice again.

“Well, the best thing you can do is be there for him, even though you’re far away right now.” Her mother let her hand fall to cover hers, eyes filled with the understanding of a woman whose husband had been away once before.

“Your mother was what kept me going during the war,” Her father agreed. “I can promise you, Robert will take your words with him up there when he’s flying.”

“Go now,” her mother ushered her out of the kitchen. “Clean yourself up and write him back. You’ll sleep better tonight knowing you got your feelings out.”

She felt heavy as she stood from her chair, her legs like lead as she made her way upstairs to her bedroom, numbness encompassing her until she had the door shut securely behind her. The words blood and horror swirling around in her mind over and over, like the edges of a cyclone that showed no signs of slowing down. Is that what this was? A storm that would continue to speed up, with nothing to stop it, until the last bomb was dropped, the last round fired? She wasn’t sure, but she turned the ideas over and over, words sticking together in her head as she changed for bed, removed her makeup, until finally, she pulled out the chair at her desk to begin her reply to Rosie.

My Dearest Robbie,

Sweetheart, I don’t think there are enough words for me to express just how sorry I am for you after opening your last letter. To lose Nash so quickly, and in such a way. I hope that it didn’t pain you too deeply to break that news to his Red Cross sweetheart, and that she is able to find some happiness again soon. Do not apologize for the length of your last letter. Every letter from you is something I treasure, whether it’s three words, or three pages. I will always reply, so long as you’ll have me.

I’d like to hear more about the Estate you spent the week at, if you’re willing to talk about it. It does sound like the kind of place I would love to spend time with you, though, anywhere you are, is somewhere I want to be. Maybe we can escape somewhere lush and green once you return, and spend our days under the sun, with nothing but time on our hands. Until then, yes, you were right, I do wish you’d take care of yourself. I know you will, but that sometimes it takes a bit of pushing. Don’t try and shoulder the burden all alone, Robbie. You have people who will shoulder it with you; Pappy isn’t just your co-pilot in the sky. Try and remember that.

I’d like to try and make you smile, if only for a moment. I found our mothers gossiping at the kitchen table this afternoon as I headed out. They claim it’s not gossip if they’re talking about their children; I suspect they’re plotting as usual. Speaking of your mother, try and squeeze in an extra letter for her, if you can. She misses you, though she claims to be alright with you writing to me more than her, I know she’d appreciate an extra piece of mail and to know you’re doing well. Don’t give her too much grief for the gossip, you know she can’t help it.

I’m counting the days until you’re here again, Robbie, and we can carry on as we were meant to; together. Until that time comes, I’m sending you all of my love.

All of me, always

Read Part 4 Here

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List: @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @rowdy-redhead @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @basilone @at-1800-hours @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85

#masters of the air #love letters: rosie & jo #mota fanfic #rosie rosenthal x ofc #rosie rosenthal fic #robert rosenthal x ofc #rosie rosenthal x oc #nate mann #hbo war #Gina baker writes

39 notes · View notes

ic-napology · 5 months

Text

My Scott's Napoleon review (short version)

Ok so I'm ready for my Scott's Napoleon review (late of course).

The beauty of its form and aesthetics can't be argued. I'm not in awe though, because it was a standard I pretended from Ridley Scott and Apple. Sadly, the content made it feel a huge waste.

What do you do with the thought, be it accurate or not, that Europe was ruined by wars because a vile man might have been frustrated by a toxic relationship? Is this idea something worth creating such an e x p e n s i v e movie about? Why so much bling?

To a Napoleonic fan, it would cause a soul-bleeding, because of how shallow and inaccurate all this is. To a non Napoleonic fan, it would be just... I don't know, depressing? Lame? It would be even if they remembered that this movie would contain a personal and artistic re-elaboration of history by a filmmaker (known for doing that all the time).

My main issue with this movie, both as a fan of Napoleon and Josephine and... as a person I guess?, is about how it deals with the "humanizing Napoleon" thing. I am ok with the intention per se. I am ok with giving a personal touch to a story. I'm not ok if that means mortifying him, without leaving any redeeming quality nor charm for balance. It wouldn't sit well with me about any character, whoever they are.

It could have meant adopting a more empathetic frame towards Napoleon's life and character. It would have given insight to qualities, vision and goals of the character too. Empathy doesn't require to justify someone's eventual horrible sides. It could work even in a movie where you mostly want to point out a villain's faults. I would dare say that if you make the viewer empathise with a villain, just before showcasing the worst of his deeds, it would be even more shocking and hard to deal with.

Best villains are the ones you could get some insight and connection with. And this movie fails to connect you with Napoleon at all. "There's nothing we can do", other than despise him.

Ridley Scott can manipulate history and mansplain all the historians he wants, he still has become a coward storyteller.

#This is not inaccuracy #This is cowardice #It's easy to despise such a vile and miserable manchild #I don't even care about inaccuracy #Also I wish this was the only movie who offered me a delusional representation of Napoleon and Josephine #No okay I care about accuracy too #Because it would have made a beautiful story #Napoleon 2023 #Ridley Scott #napoleon bonaparte #Napoleon movie #napoleon movie review

59 notes · View notes

shoshiwrites · 2 months

Note

can i request jo/egan + 10. maraschino cherries? please and thank you!

Jo + MotA has a tag now, help. From this prompt list. Bucky Egan/WarCo OC.

She hadn’t wanted to come out tonight, but the Red Cross girls insisted.

It’s still on her desk, torn open, the package with her address on it. The brooch inside that wasn’t her name, the little pearls and swirling letters in gold plate, the pink paste stone. The note attached, longer than the last one he’d written her.

Pity was the last thing she wanted tonight, even if it felt like her chest was stuffed with cotton. So she didn’t say anything, didn’t let Helen’s gentle questions get anywhere, or Tatty’s inquisitive grin. Could she pass it off as homesickness? The three of them loved their jobs too much for that, maybe. Took too much pride in them, at least, if not loved. Love was a word she held back here, with even the loudest of parties shot through with sadness.

She’s still wearing his class ring. The little silver thing, with enamel and gold edges. The ring that wasn’t about her, either.

“You want to try another drink, Jo?”

She’s barely touched her soda, the little maraschino cherry still floating on top, tendrils of red syrup in the weakened carbonation. They’d gotten a few jars in earlier in the week, and everyone was feeling the extra sparkle. It wasn’t a twist of lemon or an orange peel or the end of the war, but it was alright.

“Oh no, thank you. Can’t waste this one, right?” She takes a sip.

A certain voice echoes in her head. What kind of chump doesn’t get a girl a nice ring?

She does, she needs a drink.

On nights like these, Helen and Tatty’s chairs are soon empty — blue uniforms spinning in a room amongst olive wool and florals.

“Hey there, Josephine.”

She looks up at him, the dim lights behind his head. “Major Egan.”

He makes the same face he always does. “You could at least call me John.”

“Same reason I don’t dance, Major.”

He looks over his shoulder at the band, at the crowd of pairs dancing. “Why’re you here, then?”

She jerks her chin at Helen’s martini glass and the last few sips of Tatty’s sherry. “You think I had a choice?”

“Hey, don’t make fun of the nice ladies.” He half-smiles, the kind he never keeps off his face. “C’mon, dance with me.”

She wonders if Dora lives back home or somewhere in England, an ocean or a stone’s throw. Have they danced? She assumes they have.

“Song’s almost over, Josephine.”

She wonders if he can see that her eyes are a little red. At least, she feels they still are. “Is that your selling point?”

“You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

The last pretty face they ever see, right? She can’t push it away, can’t invite it in. There’s no one else here to care, no reporters who’ll moan that she only gets stories by dancing, by turning something on that your average Joe reporter can’t.

She stands, and he looks at her like she’s made a miracle happen.

The song does end, and he still holds out his hand. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy.” Her fingers hover above his outstretched palm. The next song starts slow, like bubbles in a glass of champagne. He looks like a schoolboy when her expression asks if he did it on purpose. “I know I’m dancing with another’s betrothed,” he says, annunciating like he’s explaining the word.

She’d take the straight bottle, actually. Whiskey. Vodka. Gin.

“I— I don’t know about that,” she says. It’s everything she can do to keep her feet moving. To keep from stepping on his toes.

Above her, she can feel his chin brush her hair. “What?” It’s possible she’s never regretted saying anything more in her life. “What happened?”

The brooch, sitting on her desk. Amongst all of her things. Her letters. Her notebook. Her cigarettes and lipstick and tins of pocket candy. Is she supposed to care this much? Is this something she’s just supposed to accept?

“Not here,” she says. She hates how small her voice sounds.

“You know we’ve got a jeep,” he says. “You just tell us where—”

“I think maybe I need a drink,” she says. He’s taken her hand, holds it against his chest.

“‘Course, what’ll you have?”

“Whatever’s back at my room.” Maybe she’ll figure out how to ask for a bottle of wine so that nobody looks at her funny. “Alone.”

He doesn’t stop holding her. She said alone. She thinks— she thinks she means it. She knows he’d—

“Alone,” he repeats.

“Mmhm.”

The music continues around them, soapy and warm. His voice by her ear. “You want a drink before you go? Want me to tell you I owe you a dance? Make up for this one?”

You don’t owe me anything, John. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong.

But she nods, against his chest, “yes ma’am,” and lets the moment linger a second longer.

#tortoisesshells #mota oc #masters of the air oc #shoshi writes #jo's tag #motaverse #??????????!!!!!! this was supposed to end in a different place and then

41 notes · View notes

blackwolfstabs · 7 months

Text

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 4

HAVING EACH OTHER'S BACK

Tara makes a desperate call, when she's being followed home after therapy.

Tara sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve as she descended down the steps of the building. This was why she dreaded going to therapy every week. She hated crying in front of people, even though it may seem like she didn’t. It made her feel vulnerable, like when she was first attacked in 2022 or when she desperately dragged herself across the hospital floor—hoping for some sort of luck that would keep her alive.

Her therapist, Josephine, or Ms. Jo, as Tara called her, was very patient and understanding about it though. She never made her feel that getting emotional was a bad thing, rather she said exploring all the emotions in dealing with trauma was imperative in order to begin to heal.

Why couldn’t she see it that way?

Maybe it was because she knew what it was to be weak and be called weak. Maybe it was because talking about what happened to her made her relive it in every session. Maybe it was because she never saw Sam cry when she went, so it made her feel immature.

Whatever it was, she could push it aside now. She was done with therapy for a whole week, and all that was left for the rest of the night was her going home so she could do what she wanted and deal with what she wanted. And, damn, was she looking forward to sleeping. Every night before she had a session, she was too stressed to sleep comfortably—always concerned with what she would have to talk about or expose.

The sun has set completely in the New York skies, leaving the streetlights glowing on the sidewalks to illuminate anyone out and about. Usually, Tara was out of therapy before the sun went down, but Josephine had delayed their normal meeting time by 30 minutes, plus she had a total breakdown that had her staying even longer to calm down.

It was almost 8:30 now. She already sent Sam a text that she was on her way home, and at the bottom of the staircase, she paused to take a dose of her inhaler. It helped her breathe a little easier after the congestion crying had built up, so hopefully by the time she got home, it wouldn’t be noticeable.

As she slipped her inhaler back into her pocket, her peripheral vision caught sight of a dark shadow leaning against the side of the building. She quickly looked up, finding the shadow to be a figure—a male, about 6 ft., arms crossed, staring at her. Her heart skipped a beat, any tears that still thought about glossing her eyes running dry as she swallowed uneasily and started away.

Something wasn’t right about him, and it wasn’t just because he was in the shadows or smoking a cigarette. It was a gut feeling that she got—instinctive—like she was on the verge of being sent into fight-or-flight. Her father had always told her, if something didn’t feel right, don’t stick around.

She didn’t look back at first, just lengthened her strides as long as she could. After the second building she passed, she casually glanced over her shoulder.

He was behind her. At a distance, of course. But on her trail, nonetheless.

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, her heart thumping hard against her ribcage. After all the talk about being hunted and stabbed and everything, her brain was still wired to attach to being threatened.

At first, she didn’t waste a moment, opening it to navigate to her contacts. But then she remembered a valuable piece of information Wes Hicks had told her a long time ago…

‘ “If you ever think you’re being followed, make 4 right turns. If they’re still behind you, then you’re in trouble and you need to find help or call the police.” ’

Carpenter clicked off her phone to avoid the brightness of her screen but kept it close to her chest as she turned right at the next available moment. It wasn’t ideal, for it was a dark alley, but if she was being hunted, she wanted to know as soon as possible. She didn’t have her taser, because she wasn’t supposed to have anything that was considered or could be used as a “weapon” in the office, because “mentally unstable” people could “harm themselves or someone else without meaning to”.

So, she didn’t have anything but her inhaler, phone, and a key to the apartment. As she approached the end of the alley, she checked again.

Still behind her, dressed in a black hoodie, dark blue jeans, and a baseball hat covering his eyes because his chin was dipped.

She could feel her anxiety get the better of her as her airway started to constrict, persuading her to go for her inhaler again. Though, moonlight, streetlights, and passing cars kept her from doing so, when she broke the dark, private street. Her eyes went to her phone to see if Sam had responded or liked the message.

Nothing.

‘Fuck.’

Tara looked again, her sister’s absent response stressing her even more. She had only made one turn, but he was still following her, and the fact that he had started once she left therapy told her that he was waiting on her. She didn’t want to wait for 3 more turns, but she needed to turn around so she could make it home.

But how? It was only a matter of time before he got tired of pursuing and got a hot foot to chase her down. He might take that chance if she went down another alleyway, and if she tried to cross the street, she’d have to wait for the coast to be clear, which would just allow him to catch up to her. No one in New York gave a damn about anyone else, so it wasn’t like asking for help would do anything. No one gave a fuck when people were being murdered and chased down the street by a serial killer, so why would they care now?

She dialed Sam’s number and put a small jump into her step to get a little farther ahead. It rang… and rang… and rang… “Come on, Sam, are you fucking kidding me?” she hissed under her breath.

She tried again.

No answer.

Tears started to come into her eyes as she kept walking straight. She didn’t know where she was going, for she hadn’t been this far downtown before—the farthest being her therapist’s office. They never went on this side, ever.

A small whimper involuntarily left her as she bit her lip, moving on to call Mindy. She’d call Chad, but he was at football practice and wouldn’t have his phone with him.

And the line rang… and rang…

“Hey, you’ve reached me. Leave a message.” Mindy’s voicemail cursed her ears.

“Fuck!” Her shins were starting to pull, leaving her formerly dislocated ankle aching, along with her knee. She tried Sam again. “Please, Sam, please…”

Her stalker must’ve known she was calling for help and failing, because he kept his strides the same, only picking up his pace to keep hers at the same distance he had been.

Now, Tara began to panic. She didn’t recognize where she was and didn’t have time to look at Google Maps to figure out how to get her back to familiar territory. No one was picking up their fucking phones, and she was running out of time and energy. She had to take to her inhaler another time, sighing deep when she lowered it from her lips. As she desperately scrolled through her contacts, she found one person that she hadn’t tried that might pick up.

It was her only hope, in their small family group that would know where she was, if Chad was unavailable and Sam and Mindy weren’t answering.

She dialed her last hope and scanned her surroundings, looking for a landmark she could talk about to give a hint on where the fuck she was at. And just to her desperate luck…

“Hello?”

“Danny?” Tara nearly burst into tears now that she finally got a hold of somebody.

“Yeah? Are you okay?”

She knew he asked this because she never called him. In fact, she thought this was the first time she ever called him. “No…” She tried to whisper into the phone, but her speeding heart made it hard to keep that quiet barrier. “I-I’m being followed by some guy, a-and I can’t get home… Chad’s at football practice…” She had to take a shaky breath, “And Sam and Mindy won’t pick up… I didn’t know who to call…”

“Okay. Alright, Tara, just stay calm. I’m coming. Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know!” She couldn’t handle the pressure of fear and panic any longer as she started to cry. “I don’t know where I am!” Her breath hitched, before she could explain from the start, which had Danny cutting in to help her.

“Okay, where were you coming from?”

“M-my therapist’s…”

“What’s around you? What kind of places? Can you see any street signs?”

Tara looked around, blinking through her tears, “Um… um…” All of the sudden, she was back a year and 5 months ago, back in her house in Woodsboro, answering “Who wrote the original book that the Stab movies were based on?”. She sounded just like she had then, now. Josephine had made her talk a little bit about that night in therapy…

She scanned what she could as fast as possible, but the glowing lights of the city’s streets seemed to blend everything into one. Ahead, at an intersection, she spotted something that might be of use. “Th-there’s a library, um… across the street from me,” she told him, “But it’s like on the corner. The door’s at an angle.”

Immediately, he replied, “Got it. I know exactly where that is. Make a right at that intersection, then keep straight.”

“Okay…”

“Don’t run, he’s expecting that. Don’t look back at him, just keep walking. I’m on my way now. I’ll be there soon.”

Even though he couldn’t see her, Tara nodded, her whimpering enough to have him hang up, to which she did the same and lowered her hand to her side. She could feel her knuckles turning white and her fingers going numb with how tight she was gripping her phone. She tried to soothe herself by repeating that Danny was coming, but it took everything in her and then some to not glance over her shoulder.

She made the right turn and stayed close to the street. The headlights from passing cars illuminated the concrete, having her tilt her head enough to catch the shadows behind her. Sure enough, the man’s shadow rounded the corner. She gulped with a small noise. She felt so weak, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t have any defense, it was dark, new yorkers didn’t care, and she was already in a crappy headspace from being in therapy.

Her legs burned and her chest was beginning to do the same, because she was trying to hold her breath to keep from letting her asthma turn her anxious panting audible. That would make her an even easier target.

This kept up for a few more minutes, before she had to grab her inhaler again. But that’s when her threat took a notch off his patience.

“How long you gonna run for, baby girl? Asthma’s catchin’ up with you, huh?”

Her breath caught in her throat. This was when it got real. She was going to have to fight the best she could and hope it was enough—hope she was enough. She ignored him and kept walking.

Then, he raised his voice, “Oh, you don’t wanna talk?! That’s fine.”

And the next thing she knew, he was on her. She heard his footsteps pick up, and it had her instinctively turning around. But that’s when she was met with a dark blur and strong hands grabbing her.

“You’re coming with me!” was the snarl that had the blood roaring in her ears.

Tara yelped and braced herself with her heels resisting into the sidewalk. She could feel her biceps bruise with how tight his grip was, but she still managed to throw her hands against his chest. “No!”

However, he was much stronger and yanked her towards him, “Come here!”

She thrashed, mindlessly reacting, unable to think or even coordinate her movements as she made them. “No! Let me go!” she screamed. She was blind.

A growl.

A grunt.

A crunch.

And then she was free. She stumbled back and tripped over her own force, falling straight onto the ground. Her tailbone broke her fall, but her back suffered when it gave out to have her land flat on it. It stole the air for her lungs, leaving her wheezing around the pain that shot through her spine. She turned onto her side, trying to recover her phone, which she dropped, as well as retrieve her inhaler from her back pocket. It was probably broken.

Around her own gasping, she could hear thumping and muffled movement, only hearing the speed of motions.

And then everything stopped. She lay still for a moment, then pulled her inhaler up and shook it. It sounded okay. She took in the medicine she needed, feeling instant relief as she collapsed back onto the sidewalk. But it wasn’t long before she felt another touch grab her. It was much softer though.

And then she heard the owner’s voice.

“Tara.” Danny crouched down beside her, coaxing her to pick up her head, “Tara, are you okay?”

Tara lifted her face to look at him and let him guide her into a sitting position. “Mm—Mm-hmm…” was her shaky reply. She was trembling, tears coming down her cheeks, even though she didn’t feel them come from her eyes.

“Alright,” he nodded, bringing his arm around her back to support her. “You’re alright.”

As her disorientation started to fade, she looked around, “W-where did he go?” She knew she wouldn’t be hurt anymore, but she still wanted to know where he was. She hated whenever she didn’t know when someone who was hunting her was, even if they were no longer a threat.

“He’s gone,” her rescuer reassured, “I took care of him.”

As he brought his other hand around, she could see a red hue, already starting to turn purple, covering his knuckles.

Danny noticed the way she was staring at his hand and dismissed it. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” His instinct was to pick her up and carry her, but he didn’t know her like he knew Sam, so he didn’t want to test anything. “Can you walk?”

Carpenter grunted as she pushed herself up further to get her weight off of her tailbone. She was still shaken-up, but something in her wanted to prove something. To him. To herself. She didn’t know. “Yeah…” she replied and mustered up the strength in her legs to guide herself up.

However, Brackett took her hands around her belongings that she held and helped her to her feet. As he watched her brush herself off and fix her clothing, he quizzed, “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

She shook her head. “No…” Then, she sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “Just grabbed me.”

He nodded, “Okay.”

She glanced up at him, as if just remembering their conversation on the phone and how quick he had gotten to her. They didn’t talk much or interact. She’d really just acknowledge him when he came over or texted him when she didn’t know where Sam was, but that was it. If she were honest… she really didn’t think he liked her much because of how things between her and Sam had been when they first met. “Thank you for coming,” she rasped, on the verge of crying again. She couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there.

“Of course,” he answered. “You ever need anything, you let me know. I’ll be there.” Most people would assume that he had an obligation to treat Tara like family because she was Sam’s sister, but that wasn’t true. He may not engage with the younger Carpenter enough, but he watched her a lot. Not in the weird, stalker way, but in the way someone does when they want to know more about someone. Tara didn’t seem to want much to do with him, so he was surprised she actually thought to call him. In actuality, he would do anything for her, just like he would for Sam. “I’ve got your back.”

Tara actually managed a small smile at this, then looked over to where she was going before shit went down.

Danny knew what she was thinking and instigated their departure faster than she could. “Let’s get out of here.” There was a strong sense of relief in the way the younger turned to start in the direction of home. He flanked her, taking a quick survey of their surroundings to make sure no one else intended to try their sorry luck on her. But his attention was stolen when an incoming call rang out from Tara’s phone.

They both glanced down to the screen as she brought it into view.

‘Sam’

Tara sighed. “You might wanna protect your girlfriend next,” she warned, “‘Cause I’m gonna give her Hell.”

I'm not sure how I feel about this one - kinda feel like it's not as practical as the others I've written, but I liked the idea so oh well. I could've gone into more detail and wrote it better if this wasn't part of a challenge, but time and reader's patience are a thing so I respect it. I hope it made enough sense though.

Stay safe out there! ♡ - parker

#scream #scream v #scream vi #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #danny brackett #carpenter sisters #30 day writing challenge #having each other's back #AU: All My Heart

57 notes · View notes

darkestprompts · 10 months

Note

What’s one thing each hero does well without knowing?

Hm, the ask is a little vague, so I will interpret it as either things the heroes have the potential to excel at but never tried, or general skills they have but never noticed are out of the norm.

Man-at-arms: He thought of it as "tactical maneuvering" but in reality Barristan had all the makings of a great diplomat. He was much better at persuasion and charm than screaming orders. His talent was wasted in the military.

Abomination: Has a good ear for music, would learn an instrument easily if he applied himself. He has more sensibility than he gives himself credit for.

Antiquarian: Her fingers are very agile, but she never tried to learn sleight of hand. Thank fuck, because she'd be scary good at it and use her power for evil.

Bounty Hunter: Once Alhazred asked him if he ever studied the occult arts. Tardif told him to kindly sod off with that magic shite. He'd rather not know why he asked.

Grave Robber: Audrey never thought of getting her hands dirty before bankruptcy, but she would do well with gardening. She has the precision, the patience and the brutality to deal with weeds and pests. With her sharp aesthetic sense, she'd make beautiful pleasure gardens. Aren't graveyards just gardens for the dead?

Plague Doctor: Junia once told her she'd be a good preacher. Paracelsus laughed her way to the floor. It's true though. When she deigns to talk about something she cares about, she gets really passionate and eloquent, much like Reynauld. She just needs to learn to match her speeches to her audience. It's hard to be inspired by the biology of leeches.

Flagellant: Damian has very good memory. Perhaps that's part of what makes him so obsessive about sin, he never forgets his mistakes? He doesn't realize it's unusual, it has never come up. Mostly because nobody wants to talk to him.

Jester: Someone needs to find Sarmenti one of those 3D puzzles or building kits or anything of the sort. He's crazy precise with his hands and gets easily absorbed by the task. I imagine he could build one of those absurd domino mini-cities if you locked him in a room with enough material.

Crusader: Reynauld is a good army organizer for many reasons, one of which he never noticed is that he has an outstanding perception of space. He's the kind of guy that can estimate how many bricks should go in a wall at a glance. Could have been a master builder in another lifetime.

Hellion: When she finally learns to read, she will also learn the joys of writing. She will progress quickly by keeping a private journal and discover a knack for it. She and Dismas can workshop poems.

Vestal: It doesn't come up because of her vow of poverty, but Junia has a good head for managing money. She can squeeze a lot out of a tight budget and knows how to set priorities. If she was in charge of the Hamlet's finances maybe it wouldn't be falling apart.

Arbalest: Good with teaching and explaining things in general. She could instruct a few snipers for the Hamlet, if she was willing to let anyone touch her arbalest. If she got roped into teaching basic first aid the Hamlet would save a killing in Survivalist lessons.

Occultist: Even though he's a liberal arts guy, he can still make insane head calculations. He assumes the reason not everyone can make three number multiplications on the fly is just poor education. Everyone else thinks it's a result of witchcraft and the devil.

Highwayman: Dismas writes on scrap paper during his few moments of leisure, but he could develop a good writing hand if he had more time and a better set up. Maybe Audrey could teach him some calligraphy, she had to learn all that flowery crap. He'd find the end result very satisfying.

Shieldbreaker: ...Well, she already found out she's really good at killing people. Now she needs to realize she has a great poker face and capitalize on it. She could give Josephine a run for her money.

Houndmaster: He likes memorizing quotes from plays and novels, but it never occurred to him he could act or recite. Someone should make him read out loud.

Leper: Thinks it's totally normal that birds sit on his hand and baby fawns lay on beside him. "Oh, you just have to stay calm and not spook them". No, Baldwin, you are an animal magnet and people keep score of your ridiculous Disney Princess incidents.

Runaway: Would never think of herself as a sciency person, but one day her knack for systematically identifying plants will make Paracelsus delighted.

#darkest dungeon #asks #anon #dd lists #dd ensemble

71 notes · View notes

lazy-writer-owo · 6 months

Text

A Pirate Live.. (Ch. 1)

Shanks x OC! fanfic

Summary: How young! Shanks and young! Josephine met for the first time when her father Edward fought Roger. feat. Buggy and this is like an epilogue to a long story of Josephine Edward.

Warning- (non)

P.s. English is not my first language so please bare with me, this is also me attempting to break my comfort zone of writing an x OC fic and my first one piece fic :'D Enjoy!

Third pov.

Josephine sits by the railing of the ship looking at the luscious forest Infront of her, Marco stand beside her keeping his sharp eyes on the young lady.

Her mischevious behaviour could have slip pass by him any moment but after an order from pops have made him stay behind to babysit the adorable little lady. Josephine Newgate, a ripe age of 8 years old the little lady have spend since her birth on the ship surrounded by pirates and the danger of the marines. But nothing could sway her as she knows her father and her big family would keep the danger away from her.

"Marco, can we pleasee go there? i want to see the fight so bad" Josephine begs at the blonde haired man after a few rumble and explosion happened deep in the forest, she have always want to see the notorious pirate that her father would always complain about name Monkey.D Roger. She never met the Roger Pirates, her father forbid her to ever come near them because of their dangerous nature.

"No, you know pops would kill me and he would grounded you from going on the docks yoi" Marco says as he lean on the railing beside her, bored at his babysitting duty and all he ever wanted was to join pops and the others.

The little girl pouts at his answer and the worst thing to be punished that she can't explore any island that they docked at. The little girl then do her best 'puppy face' towards her brother with her hand clasp together infront of her "Pretty pleasee Marco, i promise i would hide and stand far awayyy i just want to see them fight pleaseee"

Marco let out a sigh shaking his head and frown at the girl "No means no, you cause enough trouble this week". Marco crosses his arms over his chest, his demeanor now serious.

"But-" Josephine try to reason with Marco again before she was shut down quickly by Marco harden glare at her. "Okay..i guess i be in my room until they come back" the girl says defeated as she hops down from the railing and walk towards the stair leading to the lower deck.

Marco shakes his head with a sigh

Josephine pov.

I open the door to my room before shutting it and lock it, i glance around my room before ducking down of my bed reaching my hand under to retrieve my stash.

A sword that was supposed to be put away after training session and a small pouch for with a small sketchbook in it, Im determined that today is the day that i will see Roger and my father in action. I will draw the fight in real live!

After my body is halfway through the small round window beside the ship i glance back whispering "Sorry marco I promise i be quick" before pulling myself before slip and fall with a yelp into the shallow sea water.

After succesfully went on to the dryland,making sure pineapple head is not on the deck. I waste no time but make a dash into the luscious forest heading to the loud noises of swords clashes to one another and angry war cry. My lips broke out into a big smile, excitement course through everysteps i take as the noises grew louder and louder.

A Clearing come into view with 2 people quarelling one another, one is a familiar silhouete of my father while the other is a man with a red coat and a red pirate hat sat upon his head. But the most noticable about the other man have a long black moustache "wow he can rival father with that moustache of his.." i duck behind the thick branch of a fallen tree peeking at them.

My mouth open in awe at the sheer power that the other man can withstand my father's attack and his haki, no doubt that is the man that rival my father. Monkey.D Roger, every each time their swords clash blew a gush of wind that blew my hair only widens my eyes and mouth to watch the 2 most dangerous pirate of the sea fought in-front of my very eyes!

But the blast blew and cut through some of the trees around me, i let out a yell as the trees fall around me before a warm hand grasp onto my hand and pull me up and dash away from the clearing to behind a rock. My eyes closed as the debris and dust stings, as we lean behind the rock catching our breath after the slight run of adrenaline. Then i realize that im with an unkown person before i reach for my sword and point it at them with a yelp "W-who! are you!?".

Standing before me is a boy same age as me with both of his arms raised in defense as the tip of my sword point at him. A strawhat rest on his head covering his fiery red hair, what an odd color. Is the boy also a pirate? i mean he have a sword strapped on his waist. Finally! a kid who is also a pirate like me!. He look at me with a tint of red on his cheeks before he snap us out of the state

"What are you doing here? do you know how dangerous it is here?!"

Taken aback by his outburst i lower my sword pointing my finger at him voice raise "and why do you care? im here to watch my father!"

The boy tilt his head confuse at my word "huh? your father?" his eyes blinking looking at me weirdly "No way, your father is a pirate from Whitebeards Pirate?"

i huff, a sword still in my hand as i put my other hand on my hip "Duh and he is-"

"Shank duck!" a voice cut through my sentence before another boy jump from on top of the rock straigh to me. I let out a scream as i see a flash of blue before a body just slam on to me knocking me on the ground, my sword flew from my hand. i let out a grunt as a ringing in my ears and hea throbing at the hard impact of the ground, the red-haired boy panic to see his best friend knock the defensless girl "Buggy! what are you doing! get off of her!"

The boy on top of me then scream aswell at his friend "She was pointing her sword at you! im only trying to help!".

i open my eyes and see a boy with a big red nose, we make eye contact before i let out a scream "GET OFF OF ME YOU WEIRDO!!" i push the blue haired boy ontop of me away before scrambling bakwards hand reaching for my sword before the red-hair quickly come near me to stop me from getting to my sword "Hey hey wait dont!"

"Stay back!" i point my sword at them, i though that i could be friend with the kid but they just want to kill me at this point "Y-you were with the roger pirate right, that's why your friend try to kill me!"

The red hair boy quickly shakes his head along with his hand as he grew nervous "No no! trust me im only trying to keep you away from the battlefield!" i snap back with "Then why is he trying to snap my neck?!" i point back at the blue haired kid

"Because you were trying to kill Shanks!"

"No i wasn't!"

"You were pointing the sword at him!"

What a good first impression huh. We glare at one another like you can see the electric connecting our intense staring contest before it was broken by Shank stand in between of us "Okay, okay stop it. My friend here can be a bit of an idiot since he does not have any common sense in his brain"

"Hmph clearly, what kind a man knock down a lady" I huff as i lower my sword. "You're not a lady! what kind of a lady handle swords!" Buggy as his friend says his name yelled pointing his finger at me.

"A kind of lady that can beat your ass!" i scream back as i went near him. Shank facepalm at the scene infront of him before he reach between them and push them apart slightly "Buggy please stop insulting her, it has been forever since we met anyone that are the same age as us in a pirate crew" The red-hair smile widely before turn his head to the girl.

"Im shanks, the idiot that knock you is Buggy we're from the Roger Pirate crew" He says still wearing the big smile as he extend his hand for a proper shake. Josephine look at the boy eyes widened slightly as she heard him, they are from the Roger Pirate? no way!

"W-wait i didn't know that the Roger Pirate have children on the crew, my father never mention that" The girl blinks at the new discoveries before buggy bugs in (hehe) "Well who's your father??"

"Oh its-"

"Josephine!!" a gruffy voice yelled as the three children tense and look up to see a figure of non other than Whitebeard descend with his weapon raise aiming at the two younger roger's crew. The boys scream frighten by the sudden appereance of the very angry Whitebeard, Roger appear infront of the children using his sword to block the attack creating a loud blast of wind that almost knock away the children.

All three of the children were shaken, buggy knees weakened as he sat on the dirt eyes wide. While Shank have wrapped his arms around the girl's waist and cover her head eyes closed by the debris and dust. Out of instict Shank have quickly pull Josephine close shielding her away from the danger, a sense of protectiveness over the girl.

"Get your filthy hands away from her!" Whitebeard voice booms as he aims at the two boys before the girl pull away from Shank's embrace spread her arms wide "Father don't!" she screams loud with her eyes close. Whitebeard weapon then stopped once again by Roger's hand hold tightly on the handle "My my i didn't know you have a daughter Whitebeard Hahaha! This is interesting my friend!"

"You're whitebeard daughter?!" the two boys yelled out shock to know the girl infront of them are no ordinary daughter to a common crew member but THE Whitebeard daughter.

The girl says nothing as she open her eyes to meet the glare of her very upset father, before meekly says "Im sorry Father.."

(To be continued....)

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #one piece x oc #one piece x you #shanks x reader #shanks x you #red haired shanks x reader #one piece #shanks

38 notes · View notes

danosrosegarden · 10 months

Text

Angel (Part Three) - Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

Contains: a small dose of angst, mentions of sex work, and that's about all!

Note: once again, I'd like to say Angel Eddie has minor differences to Paul Dano's 2022 Riddler. I'm so pleased with this little series so far, and I hope you continue to read!

The lights inside of Josephine's were stuck in a constant whir. Perhaps it was just your eyes having grown accustomed to the dark, gloomy, rain-drenched streets of Gotham, but Josephine's blazing yellow walls and buzzing overhead lights were nibbling on your nerves and giving you a blasting headache.

Your waitress wasn't Josephine. Her nametag said Olga. She was old. She frowned by default, the wrinkles of her face carved deep into her mole-speckled skin. She stalked over to your table slowly.

Olga pulled a notebook from the front of her apron and clicked a pen. "Go ahead," she said in a gravelly rasp.

You looked up from your cup of black coffee and peered at Edward, who stared back at you with a straight face and empty eyes. In the light of the diner, you could finally see his face better. Round, freckled cheeks, an eternal blush dusting the dotted skin. His nails were torn and jagged, the skin of his lips chapped and peeling off. His glasses were thin and crooked, resting on his curvy nose at a slant. He was beautiful. Disheveled and anxious, but undeniably beautiful.

"Gonna order something?" Olga grunted.

"Oh. Um. Can I just have, um..." Your eyes frantically darted around the breakfast section of the menu as your cheeks tingled with heat. "Pancakes? An order of pancakes?"

"You want fruit on the side?"

"Sure, sure, thank you."

"Hmm." Olga snatched the menu from your weak grasp and turned to Edward. "What'll it be."

"The coffee is just fine, thank you."

Olga plucked the menu from in front of him and walked away without another word.

"You're not getting anything?" you asked.

"No."

You'd noticed something about Edward the moment you first interacted...he did not like to look you in the eyes, but when he did, he stared. He stared long and hard, and that stare had sharp, frosty icicles. His stare was deep, penetrating, and though it felt rather invasive, you were the one who had asked a stranger to roll down their window and open their door. You were the one intruding, spending his money, wasting his time.

Through the guilt bubbling in your stomach, you thirsted for any scraps on Edward's plate. You wanted to know more.

"Are you going to tell me what you were doing in an empty parking lot at five in the morning?"

Edward's stare faltered for a split second; a single crack in the code. His eyes darted away for a fraction of a moment and quickly targeted back on you.

"Sometimes I drive when I can't clear my head."

"Fair enough. What was on your mind, Edward?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize."

You listened to the clicking of plates in the kitchen for a moment, the boisterous laughter from the cooks. The place smelled like maple syrup. The air tasted of something thick and cinnamony.

"What were you doing?" Edward asked, his eyes now fixated on the table.

"I told you, I got kicked out."

"I'm sorry."

You shrugged. "Hey, it's not your fault, it's mine."

Something inside of you was tugging at your vocal chords, urging you to share more. You weren't exactly sure what to make of Edward and what you felt about him. He couldn't be a friend...you had just met, and met under circumstances less than ideal. But something lying dormant was peeking out from under the covers, begging you to let go, to have faith in him. Speak.

"I was living with a...uh...a boyfriend, let's say."

"Let's say?"

"I don't know what to call him, Edward. My..."

Here we go.

"My work. Having a serious relationship didn't always work so well, considering what I do for work."

"What do you do?"

You sighed, resting your face in your cold, dry hands. "I'm a sex worker."

There was no twitch of his eye, no perk of his lip, nothing to gauge a reaction.

"I hope you don't look down on me." You could've decked yourself in the face for sounding so pathetic. Who gave a fuck what he thought?

You did. There was no explaining why, there was just a sorry, feeble wish that he'd still want to converse with you.

"I don't look down on you, Y/N."

"Do you want to know something, Edward?"

"What?"

"I'm glad you were there when you were. I-I know this sounds crazy, but you're already like a friend to me." Your stomach flipped in wild leaps as you talked. You were like a bursting firecracker, crackling through the air without a break. "I mean, you don't care about my work. Marshall started off as a client. I thought he didn't care. But he fucking kicked me out. I needed more money to live, Edward, and he didn't understand that." You hands shook and your heart started to race. Your voice was raising, but it was all gas, no brakes. You couldn't find a way to stop. "I mean, who does that? He knew what he was getting into when he got with me. And since when were we even an official thing? Sure, we were living together, I guess, but he liked to drink, he liked to smoke. Those are expensive hobbies, Edward. He just...he didn't get it."

The air around the table was shrouded with a foul-smelling cloud of awkward silence. Edward peered up at you, nursing a bleeding strip of skin from a hangnail he'd ripped off while you were ranting. He said nothing, his face pale and blank.

You cleared your throat.

"My point is," you spoke, even and calm, "you're not like that. I feel as if you understand me already. I...I don't know. I feel as if we were meant to be here together."

"You do not want to be my friend."

Your eyebrows furrowed. That's what he had to say after everything?

"Why do you say that?"

He shook his head. "I-I'm sorry. There's just...there's so much you don't know about me, Y/N."

Edward was beautiful, yes, but in a disheartening way. There was something crying in the chasm of his hazel eyes that looked broken, stitched from torn pieces of dirty fabric. Perhaps there was something in Edward that also felt used, hurt, stamped on, burnt out. Maybe in sharing this space with him, your pain would coalesce into one broiling ball of shame you'd hold onto together. Could your charred skin ever heal? Could those acidic burns of the past ever cool, or was it wishful thinking? You wondered.

Edward took a sip of his coffee and set the cup back down with a shaking hand.

"Y/N, it is a brave thing to love me. That's what I'll say."

He was beautiful, dishearteningly gorgeous, and shrouded in mystery. Before you had time to begin unraveling his words, Olga bumbled over to your table and set down your plate of pancakes.

Fruit on the side.

"Thank you," you said softly, pulling a fork from the wrap of utensils on the table.

A brave thing. It echoed in your mind like a call out in an empty church. It is a brave thing to love me.

You did not speak to God often. When you did, you were usually asking Him for something. As you chewed on your warm, cloudy pancakes and watched Edward watch the carpet, you asked for one thing.

Let me know more. I'd like more of him. Please.

#Eli's writing #Danonation #Paul Dano #Edward Nashton #The Riddler #The Batman #Edward Nashton x reader #The Riddler x reader #Edward Nashton x you #The Riddler x you #Edward Nashton x Y/N #The Riddler x Y/N

44 notes · View notes

aheathen-conceivably · 6 months

Text

🎶 All God's people find their place, and I love you like a mountain 🎶

Sometime before noon Antoine finally rose from bed. He had donned a plain vest and then rolled up his sleeves, both for the heat and knowing that his arsenal of robes and patterned ties wouldn’t get him far on the streets of New Mexico. His fingers exaggerated each movement, heavy with the weight of his need to succeed for his family’s sake as well as his own.

As he put his hat atop his head, he knew that he couldn’t drag out the inevitable any longer. He had never felt comfortable asking for help, much less begging for a job. A skilled pianist, a business owner, a decorated war veteran; what was any of it here? He was an unskilled laborer in a foreign land, saddled with debt and nerves.

He took a shaky breath and crossed his arms, a French prayer coming to the front of his mind. Rather than fight it he kept his eyes closed and silently went through the words before signing the cross and walking out the door.

When he walked onto the porch both Giorgio and Zelda were already standing in the middle of the yard, deep in conversation as Zelda pointed to the shed and the crops. He waved at them and asked where Josephine was; with a weary shrug Giorgio called back that she was still asleep.

Zelda gave him a knowing smile and whispered good luck, her words almost silent but clear to Antoine even across the farmyard.

He set off on foot toward town, following the directions that Giorgio had given him to the places that he heard were looking for workers. He had offered him a ride the day before, but Antoine knew that in their situation gas was a luxury not to be wasted. Besides, there was something about all of these cars and roads that he didn’t trust.

Zelda joked that it was the city boy in him, afraid of the open road. It was her new favorite nickname and one that he was growing increasingly delighted with as her Henford roots continued to show. Even her clipped English accent, softened by her years in New Orleans and his own Creole voice, had seemingly strengthened in the days since they’d arrived.

But perhaps she was right, the city boy wasn’t prepared for the speed at which the cars flew by his shoulder. Yet as the loud engine passed him and disappeared down the road beyond, he was left in the peaceful desert air. It felt older and stiller than anything he'd ever known, so much so that it erased the worries from his mind until he forgot the task at hand and actually began to enjoy his walk.

Yet as the days went by the comfort he drew from the surrounding desert began to dwindle. One after another, shop owners and farmers turned him away. The kinder ones gave him a new address, another place to look. They passed the buck along, scared for their own security and unwilling to take on another mouth to feed as the newspaper headlines grew more grim and the line of unemployed longer by the day.

But many simply muttered under their breath and turned away. For others, he was lucky if their insults were so subtle. Hunger and fear had left the worst of them volatile and inhospitable, desperate for a scapegoat for their frustrations in whatever form it arrived.

Get off my land, grifter. Find another place to beg, Okie. We’ve got nothing for you, you damn migrant. He was no stranger to slurs, but these were new, and they held a whole different capacity for insult, new weight and freshly perceived inadequacies for him to digest each time they were hurdled in his direction.

So day after day, week after week, he went home to Zelda as his failures mounted and hopes dwindled down to nothing. Still, their creaky iron bed grew more comfortable and the peeling wallpaper an ever soothing sight. He laid there in her welcome embrace until the word went still and the panic quieted.

Each night it became easier to recount every moment of his day, coupled as it was with his growing fear and worry. When he couldn't, he listened to Zelda speak of the new things Violette had learned, or the progress that she and Gio had made on the soil. In the quiet of the desert air one of their voices filled the void that the world had created for them, until their eyes began to grow heavy and there was nothing left to worry about until the sun rose again on a new day.

#1930 #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #the darlingtons #1930s #antoine duplanchier #zelda darlington #giorgio mistretta

113 notes · View notes

studentinpursuitofclouds · 8 months

Text

Golden pumpkins hunt

A short and little crappy story about our farmers and the madness during the maze on Spirits Eve.

Farmer OCs in this story: May (@poxy-domain), Zeke (@theambivalentagender), Rain (@silly-farmer), Wren (@girls4zelda), Bo (@boinurmom13), Miranda (@amishasp), Shiro (@shirokumav3), Myra (@seharuuchan), Marley (@mmarggsstuff), Willow (@vilochkaaa), Skylar (@justashamwithwastedpotential), Thad (@reallyghostlypost), Lucy (@doggoneaway), Bella (@ivquatro), Eris (@lavendel081), Elisa (@elisa6102), Hestia (@g0atmama), Fawn (@fawn-wickenshire), Josephine (@jazhand), Ziana (@nimillaarts) and Julian (my OC).

_________________________________________

"Aunt Marnie! I'm not little anymore, why can't I go into the maze...". Julian turned to Jaz, who had been begging her aunt for about ten minutes to let her enter the scary maze this year, but Marnie was still hesitant. No sooner had Julian greeted the two of them and congratulated them on Spirit's Eve than Bo pulled him back to the maze entrance.

"You'll see, dude, we're definitely going to win this Magnus puzzle! Especially since this year's prize is not one, but three whole golden pumpkins!", Bo enthusiastically tugged on his friend's sleeve, unable to contain his anticipation before the treasure hunt. "We'll divide the spoils, naturally: both get a pumpkin each, and the third... well, we'll figure something out!"

The two young men stopped near two artisanal arches.

"It's showtime, baby! Ok, I'll go left, and you go right then. Good luck, bro." With a Hollywood smile on his face, Bo clapped Julian on the shoulder, and disappeared into the semi-darkness of the maze.

The young man with multicolored eyes sighed a little tiredly: he wasn't opposed to the most exciting adventure to find the golden pumpkin, but before entering the maze, Julian wanted some snacks from the communal food table. The poor lad hadn't had time to eat before the feast, and the smell of spices made his stomach rumble and mind go crazy. But Julian decided he would help Bo win the contest first, because after all, three pumpkins was a very generous reward.

Without wasting any more precious time, Julian finally entered the maze. The tangled paths, the cold, penetrating wind, the dense dark vegetation on either side, the atmosphere and frightening scenery, the shrieks of familiar voices, the laughter and the rush - enthralled by the spirit of the feast, Julian even forgot about hunger for a while.

Continuing to walk further and further down the labyrinth, Julian didn't immediately realize how he found himself in a place separate from the main maze. There was a circle where Magnus Rasmodius himself was sitting cross-legged, and next to the wizard were Julian's friends and colleagues in farming - Eris and Bella were sitting on soft pouffes, holding cups with hot drinks in their hands, and Elisa was eating delicious white chocolate-covered strawberries. The treats were made with scary but still cute faces of all sorts of ghosts and monsters.

"Hey, Julian! Happy Spirit's Eve!", with her mouth slightly full, Elisa congratulated the young man. Bella and Eris also nodded to Julian sincerely happy meeting their friend.

"Greetings, young adept. Enjoying the festivities?", Magnus ducked one eye open, not taking a break from his meditation. Julian sensed a large concentration of magic in this place - apparently to maintain the summoned maze.

"Would you like to join us? We still have some strawberries and hot tea left." Bella moved a loose cushion closer and a plate of strawberries, which Elisa looked at very intently. Oh, how Julian wanted to stay here and have a snack!

But he made a promise to Bo...

"Thanks for the offer, but another time. I still want to win the competition."

"Good luck to you, then." Eris smiled sincerely at the young man, and happily took a sip of hot tea.

"Watch out, young fool. The treasure is guarded by fearsome monsters, it won't be easy to get it..." Magnus was pleased with his own cryptic and creepy speech, and hummed quietly, returning to his meditation. After saying goodbye to everyone, Julian rolled his eyes.

"Scary monsters, yeah... They're all fake for sure!" With that thought, the young man went back to searching for the right path to the treasure.

Walking past the plastic spiders (where Thad was able to hide and scare Julian enough to make the poor guy jump a little), he stopped near a huge cauldron where a green liquid of unknown origin was bubbling. Penny, Ziana, Shiro, and Myra stared at the bottom of the cauldron, mesmerized.

"Mr. Julian..." Ziana said in a slightly monotone somehow. "This cauldron... It smells so good, it makes my head spinning and dizzy." The other girls only nodded slowly to confirm her words.

The boiling water smelled like cotton candy, and Julian's hungry stomach twisted itself into a knot. Ugh, no, he need to move on! Overcoming the urge to stay near the cauldron, the young farmer returned to his original mission, intending to turn left.

"Nope, it's a dead end." Skylar walked out of the darkness a little tiredly with Sam. "Honey, maybe we can go back to the common table?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Sam was delighted, "Besides, the straw in my suit makes me itchy... like, everywhere."

Oh well, Julian thought, the search continues.

"Hmm, maybe I should turn into a dragon? Then I’ll definitely find the treasure..." Hestia stood thoughtfully near the fake tombstones.

"Don't cheat!", Julian said a little provocatively from behind, which slightly frightened the girl. Hestia herself was not in debt, and stuck her tongue out at Julian, disappearing into the darkness of the labyrinth. Giggling, the young man walked on.

Yoba, the labyrinth seemed endless to him, and his stomach is already begged for some food...

"You decided to take part in the treasure hunt too?" Julian didn't notice Rain standing in front of him. He nodded to her in agreement. "And you?" Julian asked.

"Eh, I'm just hanging out here. I like this creepy atmosphere, it gives me goosebumps." Rain smiled, pointing her hand at Fawn and Josephine standing nearby. "Besides, I decided to accompany my friends in case we accidentally stumble upon monsters." She patted the hilt of her sword that was strapped to her hip.

"Huh? But the monsters in the maze aren't real." Julian was surprised.

"How are you so sure?", having asked a rhetorical question, Rain said goodbye to her friend and returned to the girls, who were still looking at the house with chicken legs with delight and curiosity.

Her words made Julian's hand tighten his grip on the hilt of the dagger, which he had taken purely to decorate his suit... "Magnus wouldn't put people's lives in danger. Right?..." Now walking more carefully and listening to every sound, Julian I was able to go through half the maze already.

After about two minutes, the poor guy was scared again when Miranda's figure suddenly appeared from the bushes. The girl’s face was distorted with anger, and she confidently walked past Julian towards the exit, despite the thorny bushes.

"Today there will be one less stupid adventurer in the world," Marley said to Julian with a malicious smile when she saw his downcast face. "You’re on the right track, brother. The treasure is out there somewhere. I think"

"Aren't you going to look for pumpkins?", still in a slight shock, Julian asked hesitantly.

"And miss such a show?" Smiling even wider, Marley hurried after her friend. Julian prayed for the soul of that unfortunate adventurer who became the cause of Miranda's righteous anger. Deciding to find out about this story later, he headed in the direction from which both girls had emerged.

With every step he took, his hope of winning faded, and the thought of returning to other friends at a common table beckoned him more and more.

“Yep, I told you it was fake,” Zeke stopped looking at the plastic chest and just quietly snorted at Shane’s comment. "Oh, another competitor." Shane just smiled faintly, and Zeke waved to Julian in greeting. "Zek, maybe, to hell with these pumpkins? I’m already hungry." Oh, how hungry Julian is - you can’t imagine, Shane!

"Alright alright, let's go for the snacks. I hope there’s some honey bun left in there!' Taking Shane by the hand, Zeke led him towards the exit.

Mmmm, honey buns... Julian can already feel the sweetness melting in his mouth and...

"Oh man, there you are!" Poor Julian might have a heart attack at this rate, and he's too young to die! Ah, it's just Bo.

"We are already close, I can already feel the taste of victory!" Taking Julian again by the sleeve of his leather jacket, the two farmers headed along the only road that would definitely lead them to the desired chest.

"So, now we have to go here and-" Bo didn’t have time to finish when suddenly, before his and Julian’s eyes, the figure of their mutual friend, Wren, appeared.

"Agh, damn, I knew I should have teleport a little further!" Stomping her foot angrily, the red-haired girl, however, immediately turned pale when she saw Julian and Bo, and giggled slightly nervously.

"What the tutty frutty fuck is going on here?" Confused, Bo blinked a couple of times and immediately answered his own question: "Cheater!"

Wren only smiled even stronger and ran away in the opposite direction from the treasure.

"Hey, come back!" Bo rushed off after the girl, leaving Julian alone. Alright.

It became darker and darker, the cold autumn wind did not spare anyone who was now outside, and the stomach began to growl again. So having decided to finally reach the end, the young man already prayed that this would be the end of the hunt for golden pumpkins. He's so tired and so, oh so hungry...

And it seems that this time - finally - Yoba heard the prayers of one of the chaotic farmers in the Stardew Valley.

A large, decorated wooden chest - after so many puzzles and endless dead ends - Julian finally found the treasure. He had already stretched out his hands to touch the lid of the chest and rightfully take the prize, when a human figure again appeared out of nowhere in front of him.

But this time it was May.

The girl smiled to the fact that she had teleported directly to the target, but her smile immediately faded when she realized that she had been caught. Oopsie....

The two farmers looked into each other's eyes for half a minute, not daring to do anything.

"Apple cinnamon pie in exchange for your silence," May finally decided to interrupt this staring contest. Julian's eyes widened.

"Deal", Oh boy, you didn't need to say twice. After shaking her hand and receiving from his friend a plate with a still warm pie (where she even get this pie?), May took her prize from the chest and disappear once again.

With the satisfied smile of the happiest man in the entire Valley, Julian began to leave the maze, still holding the plate of pie in his hands.

"Well, did you get your prize?" Willow laughed good-naturedly, standing with Lucy near the exit from the maze. Julian just nods, and Lucy noted to herself how little a person needs to be happy.

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv oc #sdv ocs #farmer julian #i hope i mention everyone in this story

37 notes · View notes

middleearthpixie · 4 months

Text

Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Twenty-Two

Summary: Speech therapist Josephine Asharm has been brought into Erebor to work with Bifur, but trying to find her place among people who eye her suspiciously would be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but when Sophie finds herself caught between the king, his most trusted lieutenant, and the dwarf she’s there to help? She’s certain no good can come of it. Being of Man, not only does she stand out in the dwarf kingdom, she’s not entirely certain she’s actually welcome there at all.

Thorin only agreed to allow Sophie to live amongst them out of a sense of duty to Bifur, who is recovering from an odd head injury (is there any other way to describe having an axe blade lodged in one’s head, only to have it later dislodged during the Battle of the Five Armies?) Before the battle, he spoke only khuzdul. But since it? He’s regained the ability to speak Westron—if only he could but remember any of it. As for Thorin? He’s trying his damndest to ignore the speech therapist, not to mention his own growing feelings for her, even as he is also recovering from his near fatal wounding in the same battle.

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 4k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-mer-6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Dwalin scowled. “This is a waste of time.”

“We’ve been here but ten minutes,” Thorin told him with a scowl of his own, “so relax a bit, won’t you?”

Dwalin’s scowl deepened as he reached for his tankard to lift to his lips. “I see neither hide nor hair of our new friend, Jora, either.”

Impatience kinked Thorin’s gut, mingling with the sour burn of disappointment. He also had seen no sign of the street lad since they set foot inside Lucy’s. He tried not to think about it, however, as he lifted his own tankard for a long swallow of hearty stout. It hit his stomach with a hint of warmth, a welcomed warmth, indeed, as the pub was a bit drafty and the air held the promise of snow.

“Thorin, we need—”

Thorin sat up straight. “There he is. Come.”

“What?”

“Jora. Along the back wall.” Thorin pushed back his chair to rise. “Are you coming with me or not?”

“Of course.” Wood scraped as Dwalin shoved away from the table and Thorin winced as in his haste, Dwalin then proceeded to bump the table and sent his water goblet crashing onto its side.

Jora hung in the shadows along the back wall, waving an impatient hand toward them. Rolling his eyes as Dwalin threw his napkin over the puddle spreading across the tablecloth, Thorin said, “Just follow me when you’ve finished wrecking the table.”

“Blasted uneven table,” Dwalin grumbled, grabbing Thorin’s discarded napkin as well to mop up the spilled water.

Thorin skirted the table and ignored the curious stares of the other patrons as he wove through the tables to the lad in the back of the room. “I was wondering if you’d lit out.”

Jora didn't look at all fazed by Thorin’s irritation. “Some of us are workin’, you know. Now, do you want me to take you to him or not?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Come with me and I’ll show you.” Jora turned back toward the dining room, where a serving girl had joined Dwalin and Thorin was rather sure she was flirting with him instead of helping him clean up. Jora broke into his reverie. “Is your man coming or not?”

As if he’d heard them, Dwalin looked over in their direction and bobbed his head when Thorin gestured for him to join them. “He is.”

The serving girl looked fairly crestfallen as Dwalin excused himself and joined them. “Sorry.”

“You can come back another night and sweet talk her,” Thorin told him with no little impatience. “Unless you’d rather just remain here and I’ll go alone.”

“Ye’ll do no such thing,” Dwalin growled. “Let’s go.”

“Quiet,” Jora growled, although his voice was only just barely above a whisper. “If he hears anyone coming, I’ve no doubt he’ll run.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s sneaky that way.” Jora gestured for them to follow him along a dark, narrow corridor, past the kitchens, to the rear door, leading them out into the narrow alleyway behind the pub.

A hint of apprehension twisted Thorin’s gut. He didn't know this boy and for all he knew, Jora was about to lead him into a trap of some sort.

A sidelong glance at Dwalin showed the same apprehension on his lieutenant’s face as well, which did nothing to ease the discomfort bubbling in the pit of his belly. Without thinking, he reached down to rest his hand on the Orcrist’s grips.

Thick clouds blotted out any hint of moonlight, the air cold and heavy with the scent of snow. The first flakes fell as Jora led them toward the east side of Dale, overlooking the Long Lake. The stone buildings rose three stories on either side of the alley, with shops below and flats above and as they moved further away from the center of Dale, the buildings looked more rundown and sketchy. Somehow, Thorin wasn't at all surprised Sten Asharm would be hiding down here, like a rat in a hole. He’d expect no less.

“Quiet, now,” Jora whispered, and Thorin jumped as the boy grabbed him by the wrist. “He’s the last door on the right.”

Thorin glanced down at the thin hand that was like an iron band about his forearm, and then back up at the lad. “Take your hand from me.”

“Oh, sorry.” Jora let go and then gestured with his thumb to a door with peeling black paint. “That’s his flat there. You want I should bring him out?”

Dwalin’s hand came to rest on Thorin’s shoulder. “Should we do that or should we take him by surprise?”

“Bring him out. I’d rather face him on more neutral ground.”

“I’ll get him for you.” Jora stepped up and without waiting for them, rapped firmly on the door.

Thorin stepped back, his heart unexpectedly speeding up and his belly filling with apprehensive knots. He really hadn’t thought about what he’d do, once he came face to face with Sten. Especially since this wasn't how he thought it would happen. Somehow, he’d thought that when he tracked Sten down, it would be at the end of a dark alley like this, but that Sten would be quaking in fear from having been chased down.

“I don't like this,” Dwalin told him under his breath, sidling up to him.

“I don’t, either,” Thorin admitted.

The door opened then and his gut kinked sharply at the low rumbling voice that growled, “Who goes?”

“It’s me, Mr. Asharm. You got a minute?”

A low sigh. “What do you want?”

“You got visitors.”

Thorin tightened his fingers about Orcrist. The flutters calmed and his heartbeat returned to normal as Jora stepped back and Thorin found himself face to face with Sten Asharm.

Pale eyes widened in surprise and before Thorin had the chance to draw his sword, a bright white flash exploded inside his skull and a thick blackness screamed toward him.

“Thorin?”

Dwalin’s voice, heavy with concern, slit through the thick, almost cottony fog that enveloped Thorin’s head. Pain pulsed through his temples and his left cheek felt damp. He slowly opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it as the pain that sliced through his head was on par with the pain that had accompanied Azog the Defiler’s blade when it slit through his belly on the ice floe at Ravenhill.

“Ohhh…” It was the only sound he could muster, and even so, he winced and screwed his eyes shut once more.

“Can ye at least sit up?”

“Dwalin, I might just die if I attempt it.”

“Try.”

Swallowing hard, Thorin slowly sat. A fine layer of snow covered everything, including him, and there was no sign of the boy or Asharm. Rubbing his forehead with one hand, Thorin swallowed hard again and managed to mutter, “Do I want to know what happened?”

“He must’ve suspected that whelp was up to something, fer Asharm had something in his hand. He swung it so fast, I didn't even see what it was. I just heard the thunk, saw you drop, and—”

“He and Jora are gone.”

“I see that whelp again, and I’ll turn him inside out fer his trouble.”

“Not if I see him first.” Thorin winced at the sharp pains slicing through his head with each beat of his heart. “Did you at least give chase?”

“No, I didn’t give chase. Are ye mad, laddie? I wasn't about to leave ye unconscious in an alleyway.” Dwalin crouched and caught him at the elbow. “Let’s get ye back and have Narnerra take a look. Yer bleedin’.”

Thorin probed at the dampness along his temple, hissing softly as his fingertips brushed the cut just above his left eye. He drew his hand away to see the blood smearing his fingers and a hint of nausea turned his belly. “And how do I explain this?”

“We’ll think of somethin’. Come. It won’t be long before we’re freezing our arses off out here.”

As if nature listened in on their conversation, a frigid wind swirled down through the alley. Much as he wanted to go in search of both Jora and Asharm and let them both know what he thought of their actions, his head was about to split in two and to be honest? He wanted only to have Sophie fuss over him for a while.

They didn't speak much as they made their way back to Erebor, and as he stood outside the door to her flat, he hesitated. It was nearly ten at night and he didn't wish to wake Heather.

Still, his head ached and he was exhausted and had no desire to sleep alone, and so he gently rapped on the door.

“Who goes?”

He smiled at the sound of her voice. “It’s me, Sophie.”

“Who’s me?”

“Sophie.”

“Thorin? Is that you?” She tugged open the door and her smile melted as her gaze fell on him. “What happened?”

“I found Sten.”

Her eyes went almost perfectly round. “What?”

He nodded. “I found him. But, he was ready for me. But, you needn’t worry. Narnerra said I will be fine in a few days.”

“Thorin, you’re bleeding!”

“Again?” He reached up to press his fingers against the bandage Narnerra had laid over the cut where Asharm’s cudgel had split his skin against bone. “She said head wounds bleed and that it should also stop before much longer.”

Instead of the sympathy he thought he’d get, Sophie rolled her eyes at him and caught him by the elbow to tug him into the flat. “Take care, mesmel,” he said softly. “I’ve the worst headache I’ve had in years.”

“Well, I beg your pardon, of course. But what were you thinking, going off to find Sten on your own? Why didn't you take anyone with you?”

He winced as the closing door’s clang reverberated within his skull. “Please, take care… it’s like having the worst hangover ever.”

“Sorry.” She took his arm again and steered him toward her bedchamber. “But, I am curious.”

“I did take someone with me. For all the good it did.” He draped his arm about her shoulders, then bent to brush her temple with a kiss. “But, I know where to find him now and—”

“And you think he will remain there?”

He sighed softly. “No,” he replied, shaking his head slowly, “I don’t. But, I know he’s here and that Heather saw exactly who she thought she saw.”

It might have been only his imagination, but Thorin thought her arm tightened about his waist. “So, he’s in Dale, then?”

He nodded. “And do not even think about going and confronting him yourself.”

“I am not nearly mad enough to do such a thing.”

“Good.”

He slipped away from her as they crossed the threshold into her bedchamber, and he sighed softly, propping Orcrist in the corner alongside what he’d come to think of as his side of the bed. Then, with a heavier, far more grateful sigh, he sank onto the edge of the bed. “I hope you do not mind my calling so late.”

“Of course I don’t. I’m only thankful you didn't wake Heather.”

“Had I, I’d have gotten her back to sleep.”

Sophie came around to his side, crouching before him. “I have no doubt at all that you’d do just that. You seem to have the touch where she is concerned.”

“I have come to care for her, to think of her almost as my own, as I’ve said. And when this is over and you and I are free to marry, I would like to officially make her my daughter. That is, if you have no objection.”

“No,” she shook her head, her smile soft and wide, “I have no objection. If you’re certain, that is.”

Without thinking, he reached down to curve his hand against her cheek, the pain in his head, the aches in his body forgotten. “I am indeed certain, mesmel. I do not ever want her thinking she is less my daughter than any other daughters—or sons—you and I might have.”

“Thorin?”

“For I want children with you, Sophie. And not only because I enjoy the way one goes about getting them, either.”

It was a bit of a risk, but her smile widened and her hand came to rest on his knee. “As do I, Your Majesty.”

He caught her hand and gave a gentle tug to draw her in to meet his kiss. She melted against him, sliding an arm about his neck, her fingers threading through his hair, and in that moment, every last ache and pain ceased to be in his body.

****

He was being watched.

Thorin opened his eyes just enough to peer through the fringe of his lashes to see Heather standing alongside the bed, her elbows resting on the mattress, her chin propped on her fists. He bit back a smile as he let out a loud snore and she giggled in return.

He snored again, this time stretching as far as his arms would reach and flopped over onto his back. This time, she giggled and said, “Are you a bear, Mister Thorin?”

Although holding back his smile was difficult, he managed, and let out another snort, this one louder still.

Heather growled right back, slamming her hands against the bed in her enthusiasm, which made smothering his laughter even more difficult. He remained as still as he could, almost holding his breath as she gave the bed a gentle shake. “Mister Thorin?”

He cracked one eye. “Rawr.”

“Rawr.”

She let out a silvery laugh and stood straight. “I know you’re awake, Mister Thorin.”

“I am awake now.”

He opened his eyes all the way and instantly regretted his words when he saw her visibly shrink before him. Casting her gaze at the floor, she shuffled her feet and murmured, “I’m sorry, Mister Thorin. I didn't mean to wake you.”

Rising onto his elbow, he shook his head. “No, raklûna, you didn't wake me and you’ve done nothing wrong, so you needn’t be sorry.”

When she didn't lift her head, he reacted for her, gently catching her beneath the chin to tilt her face up. “Miss Heather, look at me.”

She slowly obeyed, her eyes wide and shadowed with a fear that broke his heart. Letting his thumb slip along her jaw, he shook his head again. “You did nothing wrong, uzbadnâtha. I promise you, you didn’t.”

“I woke you.” She jerked back, out of reach. “I’m so sorry.”

“Heather,” he sat up then, and held out his hand, “come here, won’t you? I promise you, I’ll not yell at you.”

Her eyes went wider still at his splayed hand, then she looked up at him. “I’m sorry…”

“Raklûna,” he lowered his voice into the most soothing pitch he could manage, “I promise you, you are safe and you are not in trouble. Please, give me your hand.”

Her bottom lip trembled but she carefully laid her palm against his. Gently, he closed his fingers about hers and drew her closer. “It’s all right, Miss Heather. I promise you, it is.”

He caught her beneath the arms then, lifting her onto the bed alongside him and smoothed her tangled back curls away from her face. “I am not angry with you, raklûna. I promise you I’m not. And even if I was—which I’m not—I would never raise my hand to you. I give you my word on that.”

She stared up at him with wide, shimmering eyes and he couldn't believe how much the sight of those gathering tears troubled him. The last thing he wanted was her to be afraid of him. With that in mind, he offered up a smile. “Do I look angry?”

“No.”

“Do I sound angry?”

“No.”

“Because I’m not and you didn't wake me. I was already awake and just pretending to be asleep.”

“You were?”

He nodded. “I was. If anything, I should apologize to you for making you think you did wake me.”

“My papa used to get angry when I woke him,” Heather told him softly, glancing up at him as if to gauge his response. “He didn't like it when I made noise and I always made a lot of noise.”

“I am not going to get angry over that and I find it hard to believe a tiny thing such as you can make much noise at all. Maybe if you and Gimli were together and racing about, you might, but on your own? I highly doubt it.”

“You won’t yell at me?”

“I won’t yell at you.”

“Thorin? Is everything all right?”

He looked up at Sophie, standing in the doorway, and nodded. “Everything is fine.” He smiled down at Heather. “Isn’t it, Miss Heather?”

She nodded. “I woke Mister Thorin but he was pretending to be a bear so I didn't really wake him at all.”

Sophie chuckled. “Why don't you let Mister Thorin be, love? You need to get washed and dressed so I can take you down to Miss Oakmane’s.”

Heather nodded, then looked back at him and to his surprise, threw her arms about his neck. “I love you, Mister Thorin…”

Those words, uttered with such soft emotion, hit him harder than any foe ever could and he folded her into his arms and whispered, “I love you, too, uzbadnâtha…”

She leaned away from him. “What does that mean?”

He smiled. “Princess.”

“I like that.” She offered up a pearly smile, planted an unexpected kiss upon his cheek, and then climbed down to scamper from the room.

He looked up at Sophie. “I was not expecting that.”

“Her coming in here?” She pushed away from the doorjamb and crossed over to sink onto the edge of the bed.

“No, her words.” He glanced back at the doorway. “I didn’t mean to frighten her. I was but trying to play. I didn't stop to think she would think me angry with her.”

“It’s all right, Thorin.” Her hand came to rest atop his and she gave his a gentle squeeze. “She shouldn’t have been in here to begin with.”

“I don't mind that. And I want to make certain she knows she never need fear me.”

“She will in time. Worry not, Thorin. She knows and eventually, she will forget she ever thought she needed to be afraid.”

“I do hope so.”

“She will.” She gave his hand another squeeze. “Now, why don't I see her down to Miss Oakmane’s and give you a chance to wash and dress and then perhaps we can go into Dale.”

“Go into Dale for what?”

“To find Sten.”

His gut kinked and he shook his head. “You are not getting anywhere near that alleyway, Sophie. My head still aches from my dealings with Sten. I’ll not have him do the same—or worse—to you.”

“Thorin, I want to see him with my own eyes. And there are a few things I’d like to say to him, as well.”

“Absolutely not.” He threw back the quilts and reached for his trousers, hurriedly slipping into them in case Heather returned. “I will deal with him. You needn’t worry about it.”

“Needn’t worry about it?” She folded her arms and offered up a long look. “I’m not asking you, you know. I am going and you can either come with me or I will go alone, but either way, I am confronting him.”

He didn't trouble to hold back his irritated sigh. It wasn’t his place to forbid her, not to mention it would obviously do no good to even attempt to do so, and yet he wasn't at all comfortable with the notion of her being anywhere near Sten Asharm.

Still, he also had come to know Sophie well enough to know that she would do just as she said and he also knew that she had every right to want to face Sten as well. “Sophie—”

“I know what you’re going to say,” she interrupted softly, rising from the bed to slowly pace around it. “But, I want him to know exactly what his actions caused, and to ask him why he thought nothing of treating us both the way he did.”

“Think you it will do any good?”

She let out a soft, somewhat shaky sigh. “I don't know. And I know I should just let it go, to just let the past lie and to look to the future, but at the same time… I just want to know why he hated us so much.”

He stepped in front of her, catching her by the shoulders. “Will it change anything for you?”

She lifted eyes of swirling pewter to his. “No, of course not. But, I just want to see if he’d even have the courage to answer me truthfully.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“I’m no worse off than I am now.”

“And if he does?”

“It might stop the question of why I wasn't good enough for him.”

“Not good enough—” Irritation flared in his gut. “You are good enough, you are too good for him. I wish I could make you understand that.” He released her shoulders to catch her face in his hands. “He isn’t fit for you to wipe your boots on, mesmel. Don’t you see that?”

“Thorin—”

“You’ve won the heart of a king, remember. And kings are notoriously choosy about their queens.”

“Thorin.”

Her expression was stern, but he saw the corners of her lips twitch. “We are.”

“Thorin.”

He smiled at the heavy sigh woven through that one word. “We will face him together, then.”

It was her turn to sigh as she slowly nodded. “Very well. Together.”

“Good.” He bent to brush her lips with his, then drew back. “I need to go and see Narnerra to change this bandage, but if you’re free later, we can go up to Dale then.”

She nodded. “I have nothing going on today, so that works.”

“Go and take Heather to Miss Oakmane and I will meet you by the front gate in an hour.”

“You aren’t going to leave without me, are you?”

“Sophie, I would never be so underhanded.”

“Thorin.”

“I won’t. I promise.” He brushed her lips with his once more.

“Mama?” Heather rounded the corner and halted in her tracks. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

Both he and Sophie broke out laughing at the horror in her voice and Sophie turned toward her. “There is nothing to be sorry for, sweetling. Are you ready to go to Miss Oakmane’s?”

Heather nodded, her curls bouncing merrily. “I am, Mama. Mister Thorin, will you be here later?”

“I don’t know yet, raklûna. I have a busy day ahead of me.”

“Well, if you do, I promise I won’t wake you again.”

“Miss Heather,” he skirted Sophie to scoop Heather up, “as long as you don't pounce on me when I’m asleep, I care not about you waking me. Do you understand?”

Her forehead wrinkled. “Pounce?”

“Jump on me without warning. I only ask you do not do that.”

She offered up a solemn nod. “I won’t.”

“Good. Now, you go and have fun and I will see you at supper.” He bent to set her on her feet, then turned to Sophie. “And I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

“Yes, you will.”

Another quick kiss, which made Heather giggle, and then they parted ways, with Sophie and Heather going to Miss Oakmane’s while Thorin made his way to his own flat. He had no intention of allowing her anywhere near Dale, no matter how furious it made her. He was also not about to let Asharm get anywhere near her, and while she’d be furious with him, he’d deal with that later.

Keeping her and Heather safe was the only thing that mattered and in order to do that, he had to make sure Sten Asharm no longer walked amongst them.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Richard Armitage

18 notes · View notes

indigosunsetao3 · 17 days

Text

A Reason To Try

Chapter 2 - Overrun

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Please read the tags on AO3 for any of your triggers

Alex Keller X Original FMC 6.9k words - AO3 Link

“I know E,” Mads said quietly as her nephew whined in the backseat. He did not want to get up, having only been asleep a few hours. He cried the whole time and had an absolute meltdown when Madeline tried to get him to put on proper pants. She had conceded to pajama pants, his favorite Batman ones, if he would put his shoes on himself. She didn’t say a word when they ended up being a pair of mismatched sandals, she just threw his sneakers into the duffle. She barely had the capacity herself to throw on weather appropriate clothes herself, her head pounding from the stress and the start of a hangover.

“It’s still dark out.” Everett stated as he wiped at his face. He had started to come around a bit and had been able to buckle himself in the booster as Madeline pulled out of the parking garage. It was under the apartment building and they hadn’t seen a single person as she threw their bags into the trunk. She had forgotten to zip up Josephine’s from earlier and had to scoop the pill bottles and some other items back into it hoping she hadn’t missed anything. “Where are we going?”

“Mom found some friends to take us to her office in Georgia,” Madeline answered as she waited for the automatic garage door to open up. When it clicked into place she pulled out and found that there wasn’t a single person outside, too early for even the runners to be out. The roads remained empty as she rounded out of the apartment complex and Madeline blew the redlight to make the left onto the main road. Her sister had emphasized they had to go right now and she wasn’t going to waste any time waiting for no reason.

“Why are they going so early?” Everett asked with a groan as he threw his head back against the booster seat. He had certainly learned his dramatics from her.

“They’re in a hurry is all,” Madeline said as she pressed her foot harder on the pedal as the GPS told her she’d arrive in nineteen minutes. “And if we want to go with them, we need to hurry as well.”

Everett didn’t answer after that, he just huffed and turned his head to look out the window. Madeline kept her eye on him in the rearview mirror as she cruised through the streets, knowing she would be pulled over in an instant if the police saw her. It drove Josephine crazy how fast she was when she drove, stating she followed too close and darted around enough to make her sick, which meant Josephine usually drove when they were together. Madeline had been taught how to drive by a car enthusiast when she was sixteen, the guy old enough to go to jail if he had been caught with her. His method was if you weren’t leading the pack, you were going too slow and Madeline followed that same mentality now.

The further she delved into Boston though, she found there was more activity, people were actually out and about and she had to slow down. The bar scene was just starting to wrap in some places and Madeline watched as a group stumbled out and headed down the sidewalk. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently waiting for them to cross the street when a taxi came flying down the road from the opposite way. She knew what was going to happen an instant before it did. She screamed and hit the horn as a last-ditch effort to warn them right before the car plowed down the group.

“Cover your eyes!” Madeline yelled to Everett whose eyes were wide as he stared at the building where the car eventually stopped. “E!” Madeline yelled as she turned around and nudged his knee, “look away from it.” When he turned to look at her, she faced the accident. Despite being in a rush Madeline found herself sitting there staring in shock.

The driver of the car pushed the door open and fell out and she watched them jerk uncontrollably as they fell to the ground, hands scrabbling at their throat where blood was pouring. Their passenger got out a moment later and ran flatfooted at the people that were making their way toward the scene to help. Then the passenger, a young woman, leapt on a man twice her size and tackled him to the ground and began ripping at him with her hands. Others tried to pull her off but she was unstoppable as she snarled and fought them, biting and ripping at them.

“Oh my God,” Madeline muttered as she stared, feeling as if she were in a dream. The taxi driver was up and had grabbed the closest person to him and sank his teeth into their throat. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t finch as blood coated his skin, he just moved onto the next person. People were realizing what was happening and started to scatter instead of helping. She was so busy watching one side she didn’t see another person run up at her car.

“Oh fuck,” she nearly screamed as someone started beating on the driver’s window and kicking at the door. She hit the gas before thinking and the car squealed at the sudden power surge. Everett was screaming in the back and Madeline joined him as she swerved around a small group of people running to the accident. They certainly didn’t look like they were coming to help, based on the blood all over their clothes and the crazed looks in their eyes.

“What’s happening?” Everett asked, crying again, as he turned to try and look back behind them. “Aunt Mads why are those people hurting one another?” His eyes were wide as he waited for an answer and his hands were holding onto the booster seat arms like a lifeline.

“I don’t know,” Madeline answered truthfully, her eyes darting over to her window that had blood running down it from the person’s bloody hands pounding on it. “I don’t know what is happening E,” she continued as she slammed the brakes hard when a police car came down a side street and cut them off with lights and sirens going. She groaned at the yank of the seatbelt before hitting the gas, foot to the floor, to get to their destination. She hoped wherever this place was that they were headed to wasn’t dealing with this. She had no idea what she would do if they couldn’t get out. “Just sit back in your seat and close your eyes, yeah?” She said looking up at him in the mirror again, “we’ll be out of here soon.”

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

“Come on Farah,” Alex muttered as he paced the empty room holding the phone to his ear. He had called three times now and it just continue to ring. “Pick up,” he muttered before hanging up with a frustrated sigh. Things were moving quick, too quick, and he was second guessing leaving her for the umpteenth time. He had been uneasy about it from the start and now that things were already much worse than they thought, him being here was useless. They didn’t need him or his resources to help get down to Venezuela, they just needed to sneak in and extract without all the political fanfare.

He was staring out the window, mentally going through a list of what he could do. What resources he could tap and favors he could call in to get back to Farah. He was about to hit dial again when the phone rang instead and he answered it before it had a change to even finish the first one.

“Farah,” he said a bit relieved and agitated. “Where have you been?” He asked as his eyes darted up to the clock and figure out the time difference. It was almost eleven in the morning there.

“Busy,” Farah answered and she sounded rushed. “Alex, it’s already a disaster,” she stated as he heard people yelling in the background. “We’ve been lied to, it’s spread everywhere. Russian forces pulled out right after you left. They left everything behind and just disappeared.” He heard her yell an order, muffled so she must have tilted the phone against her chest.

“Goddamn it,” Alex said as he turned heel and reached for the door. He was leaving. He wasn’t going to wait here and let her struggle and suffer on her own. “Is the sickness there?” He asked as he jogged down some steps to try and find Price. People were running around the place like mad and he had to press himself up against a wall to avoid being bowled over by a man sprinting down the hall with cases of weapons.

“I haven’t seen it,” Farah answered and Alex breathed a small sigh of relief at that. “But sick people have been seen in the city,” she cut off and Alex heard someone talking to her in rapid succession. “I have to get back and save those we can.”

“Farah, no,” Alex stated harshly. “You need to stay away from it. You need to stay alive and lead the people,” he reasoned and he heard her huff. “I’m coming back,” he stated not knowing how he was going to manage it just yet. He had done many favors for people over the years and never asked for anything in return. It was time to start cashing them in, beginning with Laswell. “I’ll find the first flight.”

“You are not,” Farah answered sternly. “You have a job to do. I sent you on it, you will finish it.”

Alex shut his eyes at the command. He had defied orders before, to stay with her, so he could defy them again to get back to her. How many times had he bled for her, almost died for her, broken his own heart over and over just for her. This wasn’t any different. Everything had done these past few years had been for her and he wasn’t about to stop that now.

“I am,” Alex said as he yanked open a stairwell door. “You can’t do this alone.” He knew he was being a bit irrational at his haste but the panic of her being there without him had been consuming him for a while now.

“I am not alone,” Farah answered, her voice taking an icy tone that he had only been on the receiving end of one other time and it had nearly shattered him then. “I survived without you before Alex, and I can do it now. Do not doubt my abilities, or my team.” There was a pause before, “I do not need you.” The silence was a long one and the stab of hurt made Alex’s steps slow to a halt again as he gripped the phone hard to his ear. “You are my second, I have given you a command. You will finish the mission.”

“Farah,” Alex tried as he stared ahead not really seeing, his mind’s eye picturing her face. The same face she had given him when he had confessed he couldn’t just be a bedwarmer for her anymore the last time they had been together. That his feelings were eating him alive and he needed to know what she was thinking. She had told him that she couldn’t be anything more to him than that. Stated he needed to accept her position, that it wasn’t going to change, and he should move on. Her ambitions were too high, life too busy, to even think about settling down; especially with her second. Feelings would make things a disaster and she gave him the ultimatum of figuring it out or leave. “Please,” he finally tacked on knowing it was futile.

“We will be fine. Call me when the job is complete,” she stated and Alex couldn’t tell if she actually was masking her hurt at her own words, or was just that disconnected between her job and her heart. “Goodbye Alex.”

The phone disconnected and Alex sighed, curling his hands in a frustrated gesture feeling the phone digging into his fingers. He knew she was done with the conversation and there would be no changing her mind. When her brother had betrayed her, she had declared him an enemy without a second thought and they were family that had grown up and survived together. Alex hadn’t been around that long and he knew she would not hesitate to push Alex away if it came between her and her goals. Shoving the phone into his pocket he headed back to the office to gather his belongings and head to the transport.

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

“We’re here,” Madeline breathed out as she looked at the GPS. She had made it in the nineteen-minute time frame it originally predicted, even after stopping and watching the horrific scene at the bar. She had pulled over to parallel park on the street, ignoring the no parking sign. Her sister could pay that stupid ticket. “Let me get the stuff from the trunk, do not get out before I come get you,” Madeline instructed as she killed the engine and shoved the keys in her coat pocket. Everett nodded, he had been quiet the rest of the car ride, only sniffling every now and again.

With shaking hands Madeline opened the car door and looked around before darting to the trunk to dig out the bags. She had to adjust the strap on her sisters backpack a few times before slinging the duffle over her shoulder and shoving it behind her. She looked around again before slamming the trunk shut and hurrying around to the side of the car and yanked open the door. Everett was already out of his seat waiting for her and his hand clasped hers hard as she helped him out.

Their feet crunched over the salt pellets someone had poured out over the sidewalk as they went. The buildings along the street were dark, all of them office buildings and warehouses. Madeline glanced at the scribbled post it in her other hand to make sure she had the right address. She hadn’t even thought to ask her sister what the place was, and honestly who the hell John Price was anyway. Was he another scientist? Doctor? She was pretty sure it wasn’t Josephine’s boss; his name was something like Bart which still made Madeline laugh because that did not sound like a stuffy scientist name.

“There’s a man lying on the sidewalk,” Everett blurted out suddenly and Madeline glanced down at him before following where he was pointing. There, in fact, was a man lying on the sidewalk and Madeline froze her steps to look at him. He was bundled under a blanket and had a few layers of clothes on that she could see. She narrowed her eyes a bit trying to determine if he was just a person that had found the least hard part of the ground to sleep on for the evening, or if it was something else.

“We just need to go around him quietly,” Madeline reasoned as she scooted Everett around her to walk on the side closest to the road now. “He’s probably just sleeping,” she stated giving Everett a reassuring smile as they got closer.

“I want to sleep,” Everett muttered before seeing Madeline put a finger to her lips to indicate for him to be quiet.

They sidestepped the man and he didn’t move, and Madeline held the breath she had been holding. She tried to look at him to see if he was even breathing, unable to tell with all the layers, not that there was anything she could do anyway. Once they were around him Madeline found a break in the wall they had been following. There was a gate that was propped half-open and she saw the number drilled into the brick, this was the address. Shifting the bag on her shoulder a bit she headed through it, quickening her steps as she saw people through the windows bustling about. They were the first people she had seen since they left the house that didn’t look crazed, or dead.

“Stop,” came a voice as Madeline reached the door and yanked it open. She blinked a few times as a flashlight blinded her and she winced away. She quickly let go of the door and stepped back as a man dressed in a solid black military uniform aimed the light beam onto Everett who pressed hard into her side.

“I’m here to see John Price,” Madeline said, grateful her voice didn’t shake like she knew the rest of her body was doing. “Do you know where he is?”

The man didn’t answer her, but spoke into a microphone on his headset stating two people were looking for Captain Price. He watched the two of them as he listened to whoever was on the other end talk. She moved her hand from Everett’s to gently rub his head, realizing she hadn’t put him in hat and it was freezing outside. His ears were like little icicles and she pressed her hand over one, pushing the other into her leg, to try and warm them a bit. Her eyes darted to the building where people were moving around still and she shifted on her feet.

“Can we wait inside?” She asked as they continued to stand in silence for a few seconds. “It’s freezing out here,” she tacked on as the guy glared at her. “And I’ve, well, it wasn’t a fun ride over here and I’d much rather be inside.”

The guy looked her up and down one more time before nodding his head toward the door indicating she could step inside. She shifted and pulled the door open before gently pushing Everett through, he was clinging to her hard and she had to shuffle step in before the warmth hit them. She looked around the room, it was a big open space with a reception desk that had someone behind it and she walked over. The man that had stopped them had stayed outside on some sort of guard duty.

“Hello,” Madeline said as she rested a hand on the counter, which was up to her chest. It reminded her of an old police precinct, eerily similar to one where she had visited too often to bail out yet another ex. “I, ah, don’t know if he told you,” she continued pointing with her thumb to the guy outside the window. “I’m here to see John Price?” The woman looked up at her with a disinterested glance and didn’t say anything so Madeline continued, “my sister Josephine Martin sent us, said for me to ask for him. We’re on a bit of a tight schedule.” That caught the woman’s attention.

“Do you have IDs?” She asked as she moved to lean over the counter edge and glanced down at Everett who was staring up at her.

“Oh yeah, hang on,” Madeline answered as she quickly let her duffle fall to the ground with a thump and she bent down to dig around. It was a disaster inside, and she had to pull a few things out before she found the first passport, Everett’s. She handed him his before she dug around some more and found her own before standing up and taking E’s back and handing them to the woman. “I’m Madeline, he’s Everett,” she said a bit lamely as the woman flipped open each of them.

“Everett Martin,” she said and closed Everett’s, “and Madeline Torres,” she finished not sounding impressed. She looked at the passport for a moment before flicking her eyes up to Madeline then back down again.

“Yes,” Madeline answered a bit confused. “I’m Josephine’s sister. She asked me to come here, and ask for John Price.” Were all these people dense Madeline wondered as she looked around.

“We have clearance for two Martins,” the woman answered. Madeline felt her stomach plummet as she looked at Everett for a second. “Where’s the boy’s father?”

“What? His father isn’t around, asshole has been gone for over a year.” She normally tried not to talk bad about Everett’s father in front of him but she was too worried to really think about it. “I’m Everett’s Aunt, I’ve been taking care of him while my sister has been working,” she babbled and moved to dig out her phone. “I’ll just call her and she’ll-” she started but the woman cut her off.

“I only have clearance for him. No one mentioned Torres,” she explained a bit clipped.

“Josephine’s maiden name is Torres, she never changed it after the divorce,” the woman just stared at her. “You’re expecting me to send my six-year-old nephew alone with you?” Madeline snapped as Everett grabbed her even harder. “Let me just call Josephine,” she continued as she fumbled in her pocket. “Or get John down here,” she tacked on a bit snippily, “I’m sure Josephine gave him our names.”

“How do I know you didn’t just take him and left his father behind?” The woman asked and Madeline was sure she felt her eyes bug out of her head.

“I’m sorry, are you insane?” Madeline asked a bit sarcastically as she let her hand hang limply for a second out of the shock of the outlandish accusation. “I am his Aunt, I live with them. I want to talk to someone else because you clearly are not getting it.” She finally got her phone out of her pocket and swiped through it to call Josephine and hit dial. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. The woman just watched her before calling someone else over and explained what was happening to them.

“We can take him to John. He’s upstairs,” the new person stated. “But until we get approval you will have to wait,” he stated. He was at least a little nicer than the woman.

“I,” Madeline started as she glanced at Everett. She couldn’t risk him not being able to leave and get to his mom but she didn’t want to send him alone either. She really needed Josephine to pick up. She tried calling again, wedging her phone between her shoulder and ear to squat down in front of Everett. The phone just kept ringing. “Everett, you are going to have to go with them,” she stated and winced as she saw the tears start up again. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be right behind you, we just have to work out paperwork,” she tried explaining and Everett clung to her.

“No,” Everett said firmly as he clung to her and she glanced up at the two people who were being impossibly thick about the whole situation. She knew her face was portraying a ‘see I told you’ look but they didn’t budge. “I’m scared Aunt Maddy,” Everett wailed and she sighed, peeling her phone off her ear and dialed again before wrapping Everett up in a hug.

“I know E,” Madeline answered as she rubbed his back gently, “I am too but it’s okay.” She was lying, this wasn’t okay but she didn’t need him to have a meltdown again. “I’ll be right behind you. They are going to take you to mommy’s friend,” another lie she was presuming, “and John will make sure you are okay.” She stared at the two adults who didn’t seem to have an ounce of empathy in them as they just watched the scene in front of them. “Damn it,” she muttered as Josephine still didn’t pick up.

“Can’t I wait with you?” Everett asked as he looked up at the two people watching. “If you’re coming anyway,” he tacked on. Too smart for his own good.

“You need to get situated,” Madeline answered as she pointed at his mismatched shoes, “and put on proper sneakers. I promise I am right behind you,” she said as she stood up and glared at the woman as she shoved the duffle at them. “His shoes are in there,” she instructed as she snatched up her own passport again and threw Everett’s in the bag. “You’ll need to carry it; he won’t be able to.”

Everett lost it when the man came around the counter to take him upstairs and Madeline slammed her cellphone down on the counter and grabbed him. He was howling and she hefted him up as he wrapped his arms and legs around her tightly. He was overly tired, stressed, and was probably still trying to process the shit they had seen on the way over. Now he was being told he had to go with intimidating looking strangers which was the final straw for him.

“You tell John Price to come down here, right fucking now,” Madeline demanded of the woman, done trying to play nice. “No,” she interrupted the woman when she opened her mouth, “right now. I don’t care if you have to drag him down by his goddamn ear. My nephew is not going until I talk to him. Maybe he understands what happens when someone gets married, they get a new name from their sister. I don’t understand why they is such a hard concept for you.”

At the same time Alex was in the stairwell just a floor up and he heard the faint sound of a child crying. It was been enough to catch his attention. There was only one child that would be around at this point, the scientist’s kid, which meant they had somehow made it after all. He called over his comms that the civilians they were escorting had arrived before pushing open the door to the main room. He caught the very frazzled woman’s rant and couldn’t help but smirk, despite himself, at the thought of anyone dragging Price down by his ear. She certainly looked like she would try it though, and Price may cow to it out of sheer surprise.

“Someone looking for Price?” Came a voice and Madeline turned on her heel to see a man walking over, having appeared from a stairwell at the end of the room.

“Yes,” Madeline said quickly, stepping away from the counter toward the guy. He was tall and she had to tilt her head back up to see him fully. He was dressed differently than the other people she had been speaking with. He was in a simple pair of jeans, though he had a thigh holster with a pistol in it, and a t-shirt over another long shirt and a brown military vest topping it all off. She noted the American flag on the vest and an insignia of some sort on his shoulder guards. Maybe Price was a military man. Josephine really should have given her more details.

“Are you him?” She asked but the guy shook his head quickly so she continued talking before he could interrupt. “Do you know where he is? My sister Josephine Martin sent me here,” Madeline said trying to talk a little louder than Everett who was still wailing. “They’re telling me that because my name is different, I can’t go,” she sighed and rubbed Everett’s back as his little fingers dug hard into her back at her last words. “I’m Madeline, Everett’s aunt. My last name is Torres, it’s Josephine’s maiden name. She never changed her name back after she got divorced.” She knew she sounded desperate and probably giving this guy way more information than he needed, or wanted, but she didn’t care. “And his last name is Martin like his mom.” She finished indicating Everett whose face was thoroughly burrowed in her hair.

Alex took in the scene before him and he stared at the woman behind the counter who seemed like she was being defiant for the sake of it. It was obvious the boy was stuck to this woman, Madeline, like glue. Price had stated that it was Josephine’s sister bringing her son which meant this had to be the aunt. He didn’t know why the shadow was being so obtuse, especially given the situation that was rapidly unfolding outside and around the city. Who else would be showing up at this hour asking for John Price except for someone that was sent specifically to find him.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you to Price,” Alex stated and the woman behind the counter opened her mouth but shut it as Alex glared at her. “This your bag?” He asked and Madeline nodded as he snatched it up and slung it over his shoulder without hesitation, cutting the shadow one more side-eye as she crossed her arms watching him. “I’m Alex, I’m working with Price on this,” he explained as he gestured for her to follow him. “The Shadows are a bit robotic, afraid to do anything their operator doesn’t tell them explicitly to do,” he tacked on loud enough for the those behind the counter to hear him.

“Seem a bit idiotic,” Madeline answered truthfully, having no idea what Shadows meant, perhaps that was another military thing. Everett adjusted to twist his head out of where he had buried it to look around when he realized they were walking. “Think you can walk now bud?” Madeline asked him as he rested his cheek on her shoulder. “I love you but you ate too much spaghetti last night,” she teased as he wiggled against her even more, locking his ankles around her waist, he was not going to let her put him down. “Fine,” she said and adjusted her grip a bit.

They were about to clear the door to the stairs when there was the sound of gun fire and breaking glass. Madeline instantly flinched, ducking down to her knees and twisting Everett so her back was to the where the sound of the gunfire came from to protect him. She was curled around her nephew, her hand on the back of his head to hold him close as he shrieked. The sounds were echoing and Madeline resisted pressing her hands over her own ears as the shouts erupted from the soldiers in the room.

Alex saw it all happen in rapid succession. The glass blew out when it was pelted with gunfire from a rogue gun being fired as the guard outside was attacked. The idiot hadn’t lifted his finger off the trigger as he was flung back into the window. Alex also flinched and ducked a bit, moving himself out of instinct to cover Madeline’s back with his own body. He had thrown the duffle down on the ground in favor to get his pistol out of the holster and safety off in as he assessed the escalating situation.

“You hurt?” Alex asked, not taking his eyes off the windows seeing more movement outside. People were rushing about outside but he wasn’t sure if that was the Shadows or something else.

“No,” Madeline answered as she felt Alex pressed up against her back. “No, we’re alright,” she continued as she checked her hands to make sure there was no blood on them.

“Good-” Alex stated before cutting off as someone leaped through a broken window and made a beeline for the soldiers behind the counter. The intruder was covered in blood, one arm ripped to bloody ribbons and snarling. He raised his gun and took a shot, catching them in the shoulder so they wheeled to the side a bit from the hit, but they didn’t slow. It was one of those things.

“Get in the stairwell,” he instructed suddenly. He stood up fully and grabbed Madeline under the arm to heft her up, bodily dragging her back to her feet without much effort.

Madeline glanced over her shoulder at Alex to ask him where to go after getting in there when she saw the soldier that was on guard duty outside hanging halfway through one of the windows. He was leaned impossibly far back with a person, the guy that was sleeping on the sidewalk, on his chest scratching and clawing at his face as he screamed. She was transfixed as the soldier screamed, his helmet knocked off and his impossibly young face contorted in fear and pain as the other guy tore him apart.

“Go,” Alex said a bit more urgently as he shoved Madeline again with one hand on her shoulder to snap her out of her daze. As the screaming from the young soldier died, he twisted back around to take a shot at the man who had attacked him. This shot didn’t miss its intended target. He hit the guy right in the temple, the blood spraying everywhere on impact.

The attacker fell instantly back out the window but the man he was attacking was jerking around and Madeline heard a feral sounding growl come from him. That was enough for her to finally get moving. She bent down and scooped up her duffle and bolted for the stairs. It was hard work trying to go up the steps with Everett in her arms and the duffle dragging along each step as she went. Her legs were burning with effort as she barely cleared the first seven stairs to the halfway mark to the second floor when she heard Alex fire again. The snarling and screaming seemed to be echoing in her skull before the stairwell door slammed shut muffling the chaos. She looked over the railing to see Alex standing there for a moment preparing to shoot if anyone came through but after a few seconds he backed up toward the steps.

“They’ve breached the building,” Alex said into his comms as he kept his back pressed to the railing as he went up the stairs rapidly. “I’ve got the civilians, the kid and his aunt,” he tacked on waiting for Price to come back. “We’re in the stairwell on our way to you.”

“Get to the transport,” came Price’s voice quickly. “Graves has the cars outside ready. No time to finish prepping,” he said before cursing. “They’re all over the damn place, where did they come from?”

“They’re probably drawn by the gunfire. Shit infects them quick,” Alex answered before a loud bang on the stairwell door made him jump. His eyes shot to the hollow metal door before glancing up at Madeline who had frozen in her trek. He quickly put a finger to his lips before digging into one of his vest pockets. He pulled out a new magazine and clipped it into the pistol, putting the half spent one away in another pocket to reload later. He had no idea how he was going to get out to the transport with two civilians and just a sidearm for protection.

“We’re getting overrun,” came Graves. “Put a little pep in your step boys.”

“We’re almost there,” Price answered, “where are you Echo?” There was gunfire in the background of his comms and Alex could also hear it coming from outside the stairwell.

Alex didn’t answer as the banging on the door intensified, the pounding rabid and only getting louder as more fists and feet joined it. They had to get out of there and outside quickly, their only option an emergency exit that had a big red sign on it that it would sound an alarm if opened. They were going to just put a big neon on sign on their backs when that high-pitched wailing started. He weighed his options before waving his hand to indicate for Madeline to come to him.

“You’ve got two fucking minutes,” Graves snapped before someone in the background shouted in terror.

“Echo 3-1,” came Price again. “Do you copy? Get to the goddamn transport.”

“Copy,” Alex barely whispered and Price seemed to get the hint. He didn’t come back again.

Madeline shuffled down the steps as quietly as she could, shifting Everett back to her already exhausted left arm to try and get a breather. She slipped the duffle at Alex’s feet before flinching as the door groaned under the assault from the other side. Despite the chill, sweat was running down her back and she felt flustered, flushed and completely overwhelmed. Everett wasn’t helping either, not that it was his fault but his panic was ricocheting hers up tenfold. He was whimpering and she shifted him again, feeling like her arms were going to give out, her legs shaking from the exertion.

“We have to get to the transport,” Alex said very quietly, his eyes never leaving the door where the threat was just on the other side. It was lucky their predators didn’t know how to use doorhandles, at least not yet anyway. “It’s outside around the back of the building. A few SUVs,” he continued to explain and he saw Madeline’s eyes widen at the thought of having to run outside. “It’s not far if we go out that door,” he nodded his head at the emergency exit.

“The second we open that door the alarm will sound,” Madeline said, having seen the warning signs on it. “They will be all over us,” she gasped. “I can’t run, not with him,” the panic was starting to tighten around her throat with a stranglehold. “Can we go upstairs? Just barricade...barricade in until,” she stated, her voice a hoarse whisper as she felt her body begin to vibrate with impending doom. “I can’t...we’ll never,” she was heaving for breath and shifted for the stairs. He could run for it, she wasn’t doing it.

“Give him to me,” Alex said, his eyes staring hard into hers, keeping his tone even but with an edge of command. “I can carry him. You’ll need to get the door, and then get behind me. Hold onto my vest and don’t let go,” he stated and he saw her shake her head in fear. “Listen to me,” he put a hand on her shoulder and gripped hard, giving her something to ground and focus on aside from the adrenaline that was coursing through her veins. “I know you’re scared, but you need to fight through it. We need to get to those cars, to the team. We stay here, we’re done for. They will not wait for us,” he nodded his head at the emergency door. “We have a minute left. It’s now or never.”

Madeline felt the panic whine in her throat before she heard it. Everett was holding onto her like a leach but she nodded once at Alex willing to go with his plan even if her instincts were screaming to go hide. He had helped this far so she had no choice but to trust him now. If she didn’t they were dead and his plan at least gave them a shot.

Alex didn’t wait for her to say anything in confirmation as one of his hands came around Everett’s waist, snaking its way between his little body and hers. Madeline felt her nephew attempt to hang on tighter but Alex wrenched him free relatively easily and the boy screamed. The pounding on the other side kicked up a notch and snarling joined the sound which drew all of their eyes for a moment.

“It’s okay, E,” Madeline said quickly as she scooped up the duffle. She would ditch it if it got in the way of running but she needed to try and keep it, all their clothes and other items were in there. “He’s going to help us, just hold onto him, alright? I’ll be right behind you, yeah? We get to the car and you can sit in my lap.” She rubbed his back absently as he stared at her with watery eyes before nodding. Under normal circumstances her nephew had never met a stranger, a small blessing since she was sure if he was shy of other people this would be ten times harder.

Alex didn’t give Everett a chance to say if he was okay with this, there wasn’t time to coddle. He shifted Everett more on his side, grabbing his tiny wrist with his hand that held his pistol to wrap it around his neck. The boy seemed to get the memo and his other arm looped around the back of Alex’s neck and he held his hands tight together, burrowing into his side almost painfully tight.

“If something happens you get him there,” Madeline ordered as Alex situated Everett, the boy was too distracted by his own hiccupping and crying to pay attention to what Madeline was saying. “Just…keep him alive. He's priority.” Her eyes darted to her nephew before she let out a shaky breath knowing that she just signed off on allowing him to leave her for dead.

“I’m keeping you both alive,” Alex said as he held onto the kid with his left arm and prayed that his bullets would hold out and he hadn’t just lied. “Get the door.”

Madeline nodded before her shaking hands pushed on the red paddle on the door. She felt it resist for a moment, as if the mechanism was questioning if she really wanted to do this. She continued to press and there was a click as the lock gave way then a half a second later the piercing alarm started. The cold air hit her face like a slap and Alex quickly pushed past her shouldering the door open more. The hand with the pistol grabbed hers and securely tucked it around one of the loops of his vest before he raised it in front of them and they began to run.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #ao3 writer #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #cod #my fic #alex keller fanfic #alex keller cod #alex cod #cod alex #alex keller x oc #a reason to try

7 notes · View notes