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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 6 months

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close to home | chapter seventy three

plot: winter passes and the reader hits her ninth month of pregnancy

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,087 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd, childbirth A/N: I have no excuse for the late update 😔

An hour later, you were stitched up and on a nice dose of pain medication that left your body numb but mind mostly clear. Michonne had gone out to tell everyone the good news, and Rosita sat beside you.

“I’m proud of you, babe.” She smiled down at you.

You reached for her hand. “It’ll be your turn next. Thank you for being here with me.”

“You’ll be able to repay me soon.” Rosita said with a wink.

You smiled at your friend and squeezed her hand. You glanced toward the back of the room, where Siddiq was doing all the tests he’d read about. Daryl stood next to him, and you could read his body language like a book. He was on guard. Of course, he was. You were drugged up, and protecting you and the baby was his sole job right now.

“I’m gonna let you two have some time; you want me to bring a change of clothes later?”

Rosita was gone after you nodded, and then finally Daryl was carrying the baby over to you. He handed her to you and then helped you sit up, so he could sit behind you. Siddiq and Dante had made themselves scarce, and it was finally just your new family.

When your back was against his chest and his arms around both of you protectively, you let out a long sigh.

“Ya gonna tell me the name ya had picked out for months?”

You smiled and looked down at the baby girl, who looked up at you with wide, bright blue eyes like her fathers. She had been wiped clean, and she was absolutely breathtaking.

“Josephine,” You said, gently rocking the baby. “After my grandma who cared for me and my sisters when we were little. I was thinking Josie for short.”

Daryl kissed the back of your head. “I like it.” He kissed you three more times, and his arms squeezed your side. “Was thinkin’... maybe Beth for a middle name.”

“I love it.” You smiled down at the baby.

“How are ya feelin?”

“Good. Drugged. But good.” You said, leaning your head back. “I’m tired.”

“Ya did a real good job. Never been more proud of ya.”

***

An hour later, and with no chance to nap, you had Daryl let everyone come meet the baby. There was no use pushing it off because you knew they’d be out there until the morning if you didn’t let them in now. So soon, the room filled with your family, and you looked around with tears.

Michonne was the first who held her new niece and Godchild, and you could see her consistently wiping away tear after tear. Then Aaron held her and gave Daryl a look that made your heart ache lovingly. You knew Daryl thought the world of his closest friend, even if he never said anything about it.

It was an energy you hadn’t felt in a long time. The happiness and love come from everyone. The congratulations and jokes, the laughs.

But this was different. This was a family coming together and the single happiest moment of your life.

“What’s her name?” Gabriel asked when it was her turn.

“Josie,” Daryl said, and you heard a proudness in his voice you’d never heard before. The proudness of a father.

“She’s beautiful,” Gabriel smiled widely and nodded at you. “Congratulations.”

It took an hour for everyone to clear out--and you had to promise both RJ and Judith they could hold the baby once you were home. But finally, it was you, Daryl, Josie, and Siddiq. He wanted to give you a once-over before he would retire for the night.

Once you were cleared and everything looked ‘textbook picture perfect,’ he bid the three of you goodnight.

You looked over at Daryl, who was holding the baby. She looked so tiny in his arms. And the look on his face made you wish you had a camera.

“I should probably try and feed her.” You said.

“Huh? Oh, right.” Daryl was too engrossed with his daughter, and it made you smile again. He came over to you and handed you Josie.

“I think she has your eyes,” You said, getting ready to try to breastfeed. “They are like the ocean. Same as you.”

Daryl came to sit behind you again and helped hold up your shirt. “Much prettier than me,”

“Well, no arguing there, old man.” You teased. “Now hold on, I gotta focus on trying to feed her.

***

The next morning, you and Daryl brought Josie home. There were casseroles from everyone in the community waiting for you, enough to feed the whole house for weeks. And there were homemade cards from all the kids.

And Judith was waiting on the couch, ready to hold the baby.

“You gotta watch her head, okay?” You said nervously to the ten-year-old. You had her arm propped up on a pillow, so there wasn’t any room for error, and you’d be right next to her.

“I got it,” Judith smiled. “She’s my new cousin.”

Daryl was a little bit antsy, ready to jump in if something happened. But Judith was comfortable, and she held Josie perfectly. You breathed a little easier after that.

“Do you want me to watch her so you two can get some sleep?” Carol offered.

You glanced at your friend. “I have to feed her again, but actually, that would be great. I don’t think I’ve slept since the night before she was born.”

“We all took turns when Judith was born helping out. No reason why we can’t do that now.” Carol smiled at you; it was the first real one you’d seen in a while. Maybe watching the baby meant more to her than you thought.

So after feeding her, Carol was excited to take the baby from you and tell you neither of you would get her back until you slept for at least a few hours.

You were asleep before you could realize your head hit the pillow.

***

Teaks soaked your cheeks as you rocked Josie back and forth. She wouldn’t stop crying, and it’d been hours. You did everything you could think of. You’d fed her, burped her, and changed her. You couldn’t figure out what she wanted.

It’s been a month since she was born, and for the most part, she was a well-tempered baby. She fussed like normal but didn’t scream bloody murder like today.

“What’s wrong with her?” RJ yelled over the baby’s cries.

You glanced at the young boy at the kitchen table and continued rocking the baby. “I don’t know, RJ.”

“Maybe she needs more food,” Judith said.

You glanced at your niece and nephew before looking back at your daughter. You quietly shushed the baby and walked over to the table to fix the swaddle. Once she was wrapped up tightly and you were rocking her in your arms, she started to calm down. You breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the counter.

“Are you two finished with your homework? Where is your mom again?”

“She went out on a run to Hilltop, remember?” Judith reminded you.

You couldn’t remember anything much these days. “Just finish your homework. I’m going to put her down for a nap.”

You left the two kids in the kitchen and headed for the stairs just as Daryl walked into the house. You sighed with relief. “Thank God, that was the longest hunting trip of my life. Take her. She’s ready for a nap. I need a minute.”

Daryl didn’t say a word as you handed him Josie and then walked out of the house. The early May air was warm, and you could smell flowers. You could also hear the buzz of the community, and you sat down on the brick steps.

Dog came out to sit next to you, wagging his tail as you pet him. After a few silent, peaceful minutes, you hear someone leave the house. You didn’t need to look behind you. You knew it was Daryl.

“She’s down,” Daryl said, putting the baby monitor on the ledge and sitting beside you. “Ya okay, pretty girl?”

You gave him a look. “I’m exhausted. My back hurts from breastfeeding, and my nipples feel like shards of glass. I haven’t showered in five days. And I’m with the baby and the kids every day. Carol is basically a ghost. Michonne is always doing something--which I understand. I just feel overwhelmed. And I’m pumping so much milk I feel like a milk factory. Not to mention Lydia is sulking around, and I can’t do anything to help her.”

“I can ice ‘em again for ya. It helped last week. And I’ll have Aaron take Judith for a sleepover. RJ goes to bed early enough. Everythin’ else, we can handle together.”

You groaned in exhaustion and leaned against him. You had no room to complain to him. He was up every night with you because he refused to let you be alone, and then he was hunting almost every day to provide for you so you could produce for your daughter.

“I’m just tired. And postpartum isn’t what I expected. Michonne made it look so easy. And we haven’t had sex in over a month, and we can’t for at least another two weeks, maybe more, since I’m taking forever to heal.”

Daryl chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Things will get better soon, pretty girl. Why don’ I watch the kids so ya can take a shower?”

You looked up at him, frowning slightly at his handsome face and how much you missed being with him. “I knew I married you for a reason.”

***

A month later, Rosita went into labor. You’d been on an evening walk with Daryl and Josie when Gabriel came running, and you left both of them with a kiss before running with Gabriel to the infirmary.

She was in the same bed you were in and sighed with relief when she saw you. You were immediately by her side. “Hi babe, I didn’t know someone could make childbirth look so sexy.”

She laughed through her pain. “I’m just trying to live up to you.”

You smiled and took her hand as you looked at Siddiq. “How is she doing?”

“She’s got a long while to go. She’s only a centimeter dilated. She’s going to be here for a while.”

Rosita was in labor for a grueling twenty-three hours. You and Gabriel sat by her side, feeding her ice chips and holding her hand through every contraction. You only took a break when Daryl brought you breakfast with Josie, and you sat with them for a few minutes. Then Rosita started screaming again, and you bid your family goodbye.

Finally, after you passed the point of delirium, Rosita delivered a healthy baby girl. Siddiq cut the cord, and Dante helped with the cleanup. Rosita was exhausted, and you didn’t envy her in the slightest. But you knew your job was done once the baby was in her arms and Siddiq could pull off his doctor mask.

After Rosita thanked you endlessly, you told her you would visit her in the morning. You wanted her to have the time with her own little family. You bid goodnight to Eugene and the others who were waiting outside her room and headed home.

It was really late, and both kids were asleep. You were sure Carol and Michonne were, too. After eating dinner that Daryl must’ve saved for you, you headed all the way up to Josie’s room. She was sleeping peacefully.

You smiled as you adjusted the blanket and ran your finger along her chubby cheek. She barely had any hair, just little wisps of brown. And with her big blue eyes, you knew she would look just like her daddy.

The floorboard creaked, and you turned to see Daryl standing at the doorway that led to the Jack and Jill bathroom. You could see into your bedroom through the open doors, and the lamp was on.

“How’s Rosita?” He whispered as he came over to you.

“She’s good. She had a girl.” You stood on your toes to give him a kiss hello. “Looks like Josie is gonna have a friend.”

Daryl wrapped his arm around your waist and stared down at the baby. “I can’ believe it sometimes.”

“What?”

“That we have a baby. That ya had the baby alright.” He squeezed your waist. “Never thought I’d see the day… didn’ think I’d be any good at it.”

You carefully caressed your sleeping daughter’s cheek again before you looked back up at Daryl and nodded toward your room. After turning on the nightlight and shutting the door, you followed Daryl.

“You’re a great father. You were before Josie came along, too. You don’t think Judith and RJ see you as a father figure?” You asked as you started to get undressed.

Daryl shrugged and sat down at the end of the bed. “Don’ really see it that way.”

“Well, you are. Why do you think Judith’s been wanting to spend so much time with you lately?” You asked as you put on one of your old maternity shirts to sleep in. “She sees you with Josie every day and is probably a little jealous. You moved in about a year ago or so. That’s a long time for a ten-year-old.” You walked over to the bed and moved his arms so you could sit on his lap.

“Maybe I should see ‘bout takin’ her out huntin’, then?”

You set your hands on the sides of his cheek and smiled. “I think it would mean the world to her, old man,” Daryl grunted, and your smile widened. You leaned forward to press your forehead against his lips and then wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Josie ate the whole bottle, by the way,” Daryl said against your skin.

You nodded and looked up at him. “Good.”

His eyes closed as you pushed back his hair and gently caressed his skin. He must’ve showered while you were with Rosita because he smelt like the Hilltop soap that came in. You moved up on your knees and kissed him, taking him off guard, but he gripped you tightly.

“I miss you,” You said against his lips. You tugged at his shirt and then slipped your hands underneath so you could touch his bare skin.

Daryl hummed against your lips and broke away from the kiss long enough so you could pull off his shirt. You were kissing again in seconds, with your running up and down his warm skin. You then grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off so you were completely naked on his lap.

“Darlin’, I don’ wanna if ya not ready yet.” Daryl whispered.

You shook your head and ground against him. You could feel how much he wanted you, and you didn’t want to stop.

“I will tell you if we have to stop.” You grinded against him again.

Daryl didn’t give you time to adjust before he had you on your back and further up on the bed. His lips moved against yours feverishly, and his hands touched every part of you they could. You moaned into his mouth through each squeeze he gave you and each time he teased your clit with his fingers.

“Promise me if ya start to hurt, ya say somethin’?” Daryl asked against your lips. “I know how ya are.”

You nodded and pulled him closer to you to deepen the kiss.

Daryl’s fingers finally circled around your clit, slowly, tauntingly, and it felt so good you could already feel tears in your eyes. It’d been too long without him.

“I can feel how much ya miss me,” He teased you.

You smiled against his lips and cupped him through his bottoms. “So can I.” You slid your hand through the band and wrapped your fingers around him.

His breathing deepened, and he shook his head. “I don’ wanna wait.”

“Then fuck me already, Dixon.”

You helped him get out of the bottoms, and then he spread your legs. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, getting yourself prepared. You weren’t sure how bad it might hurt if it would hurt, but you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Ya okay?”

You nodded and bit your lip when you felt him rub his tip along you before he pushed into you. You gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails in.

“Are ya hurt?”

“No, it just feels like pressure.” You breathed out. “Keep going. Please.”

Daryl kissed your forehead before doing as you asked, and the pressure was gone within a minute. So you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him by the neck to kiss you. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip and sucked in, making his thrust falter for a moment.

“Fuck.” Daryl breathed out.

“Harder.” You whimpered, and had to bite your lip when he did exactly what you wanted. “Oh, God…”

“Open ya eyes, pretty girl.”

You did what he asked, meeting his. The way he looked at you so lovingly made you want to cry, and you cupped his face with his hands as you stifled a moan. He was hitting that one spot again, enough to drive you crazy.

“I love ya,” He whispered to you. “I missed this.”

You moaned, his words going straight to your core. “I love you too.”

His head dropped down to your forehead, and his hips quicked their pace but half a second. His nose bumped against yours every time he thrusted.

“Harder, please.” You nearly started to beg.

You weren’t sure how you lasted that long, but too soon you felt your orgasm hitting you like a brick, and then Daryl followed suit. He managed to pull out quick enough, and you didn’t realize it was all over your stomach until he collapsed next to you.

The two of you were breathing deeply, and you glanced over at him. “You better get me a damn towel.”

“Just give me a damn minute, woman.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand. “You should take a few of them, actually. Because you aren’t leaving this bed until I’m through with you.”

#daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion x reader #twd #daryl twd #daryl x you

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little-diable · 1 year

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Whatever you say - Tommy Shelby (smut)

A big thank you to @zablife for inspiring this, and to @runnning-outof-time for the title! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader finds a book without a title in Tommy's office, and the more pages she flips, the more she starts to realize that it's a book filled with drawings of naked bodies.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), body worship, and some fluff

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (1.5k words)

It was late in the afternoon, with the sun threatening to disappear behind the horizon any moment now, as (y/n) found herself standing in Tommy’s office, located in the far back of their shared home. In the early stages of their marriage she had found herself being jealous of this very room, jealous of the time Tommy spent in here – rather than being with her; jealous of the endless nights this room was allowed to hold him hostage, keeping her from him.

Her fingertips danced across the backs of his books, reading a few titles with chuckles bubbling out of her. She could still remember how he had read some of them to her, murmuring soft words into her ear as they laid in bed, bodies searching one another’s warmth. Times she found herself longing for, wanting to go back to the days where Tommy’s piercing eyes had carried some life in them, not dampened by the blood sticking to his hands like a second layer of skin, not dampened by the rising number of lives he had taken from this world.

(Y/n) was about to pull her hand from the books as her eyes fell upon a black book, without any title or words on it. She found herself reaching for it, too curious for her own good. Slowly she pulled the book from the shelf, sitting down on the comfortable reading chair standing close by. She opened the book with wide eyes, freezing when she took in the drawing of a naked female body, titled “Not Tonight, Josephine”.

Trembling hands kept flipping the pages, eyes not able to move away from the paintings of naked bodies, some on their own, some caught up in acts only the devil would guide one through. Each and every one had a title, clearly painted by different people, and with a small gasp rumbling through her, (y/n) took in the last drawing that could be found in the book, with a small “My dearest (y/n)” scribbled beneath it.

“Tell me,” Tommy’s deep voice echoed through the room, making (y/n) jump in surprise. “What are you doing, you nosy woman?” A cigarette was hanging between Tommy’s lips, arms crossed in front of his chest as he was leaning against the doorframe. His eyes wandered from her surprised features to the book she was holding, clearly tensing.

“What in God’s name is this, Thomas?” (Y/n) didn’t dare raise her voice – as if she was scared that God himself would listen in on their conversation, picking up on the things no married husband should keep around. Tommy took a step closer, reaching for the book to gently take it from her grasp.

“Nothing special.” His lips were pulled into a small smirk, an almost boyish grin she hadn’t seen him wearing in weeks.

“Whatever you say, Tommy.” A chuckle rumbled through him, he tugged on her arm, gently asking her to stand up, so that he could sit down. She found herself placed in his lap moments later, eyes searching his, but Tommy was clearly distracted by the pages he took in. “I took this home from France, we’d take turns drawing in here, so that we could think of our women. I almost forgot I had this.”

“I don’t know what to say.” A part of her found itself consumed by a wave of heat, flushing through her, making her shift in his lap. The mere thought of Tommy longing for her, even in the darkest chapter of his life, left her heart racing, glad to know that he missed her just as much, and yet she wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that other men have looked at his drawings.

“I can throw it out if you want, don’t want to keep it around, if it makes you uncomfortable.” Their eyes met, and even though it took her a few moments to reply, (y/n) only shook her head, taking the book from him to place it down on the small table. She cupped his cheek with her hand, thumb tracing his soft lips, gasping as his hand found the back of her head to pull her in for a bruising kiss.

It had been days since Tommy had touched her, pulled away by the family business, she was desperate for anything he could give her. Tommy helped her shift around, knees placed on either side of his thighs, dress shuffled up to her waist, allowing her to grind her core against his crotch.

“Haven’t been able to touch you in too long, huh? I should have paid more attention to my wife. Come, I want to get a proper look at you.” She rose with quivering limbs, squealing as Tommy picked her up, pulling her in for another kiss before they moved towards their bedroom, door falling shut with a heavy thud.

Tommy placed her down in front of their bed, not letting her move away as his lips found her throat, kissing his way down to her neck. Skilled fingers fumbled with her dress, undoing the lacing as if he had been the one to lace her up this very morning. (Y/n) was covered in goosebumps, having to stop her moans from rumbling through her, bottled in by her teeth buried in her lip.

“I want to hear you, love, don’t hold back for me.” The dress fell from her frame, underwear following moments later. Tommy gave her a push back, forcing her down on the mattress with him towering over her. His piercing eyes wandered up and down her frame, and even though she had to fight against the need to cover herself up – not used to being exposed to him while he was still fully dressed – she felt her blood growing warmer, cooking in her veins. “God’s finest creation, I still don’t know how I got so fortunate to call you mine.”

Tommy had always been well aware that he wasn’t God’s favourite, forced to adapt to the Devil’s calling. Ever since he had met (y/n), when both had been mere teenagers, he had wondered why God had sent her his way, allowing the only good thing Tommy had ever known to stick around.

His soft hands danced up her thighs, lust blown pupils not daring to part from hers as he sank down on the mattress, lips finding her inner thighs. Her soft gasps echoed through the bedroom, hand finding his head, tugging on his greyish roots, praying to heaven above that Tommy wouldn’t be called away any time soon.

“Oh fuck, missed you so much, Tommy.” Her sobs guided him, tongue lapping at her folds, thumb circling her pulsing bundle of nerves, a beautiful torture (y/n) had found herself longing for those past days. She had a hard time staying in the moment, ripped away by the feeling that caught up with her body like a high wave, threatening to drown her, robbing (y/n) of the last drops of air lingering in her lungs.

Tommy’s tongue dipped into her tightness, smirking against her folds as a high-pitched moan left her, eyes rolling back into her head. Her hips began to shift, subconsciously trying to push herself even closer towards his warm mouth, begging the man to never let her go again.

(Y/n) was too far gone to pay attention to his wandering hand, to the way he slowly pushed two fingers into her tightness. Her sobs grew louder, struggling to stop herself from giving in right there and then, ripped away by the feeling of his soft fingertips pushing against her swollen spot. She swore that she could see stars in this very moment, no longer one with her body.

“It’s alright, let go, love.” It didn’t take her more than that, allowing her orgasm to consume her body, making her choke on her groans and moans. Tommy’s fingers kept moving, pushing her further and further towards the dark abyss she had been stuck in ever since marrying the reaper of Small Heath.

With a small chuckle Tommy pulled his fingers from her, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean before he moved up her body, kissing her softly. “Are you alright?”

“I am, but don’t you dare think I’ll let you leave after this.” And with a smile shot his way, (y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, forcing Tommy to flip them around.

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine

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bogunicorn · 10 months

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Inquisition companion coffee orders and how they'd be at a coffee shop, based on the less than a year I spent working at fake starbucks many years ago. In a different order than my last post, just for the hell of it. Some of these are based on real customers that I still remember. I wrote this at 5am when I was high and unable to sleep so keep that in mind if you think I'm wrong. I'm not wrong but you should keep it in mind. H'kay let's go

Josephine: large americano, extra shots, cream and sugar and sometimes a shot of a seasonal flavor if it's a special day. She comes in twice a day, she tips, and the baristas are all trying to figure out how she hasn't had a heart attack yet from having that much caffeine every day. Staff knows her name and likes her.

Dorian: Iced white chocolate mocha. It's the only thing he gets. He will not drink it hot. He will not try a different flavor. He shows up in the morning and orders two, one with ice and one without, and be puts the one without ice in the fridge to drink later. Staff knows him on sight, but they make him state his order every day as if they don't because he doesn't tip.

Varric: regular brewed coffee, but he likes to hang out at the cafe, work on his books, meet with people, etc. He's really nice, he over tips, and sometimes the staff "forgets" to charge him for a refill. He also orders whatever food they're running out of because he figures that means it's popular and therefore good.

Solas: Decaf brewed coffee, and then he puts a disgusting amount of sugar and cream into it. He actually hates coffee and refuses to drink caffeine, but he doesn't come for the drinks, he comes to people watch and do life drawings. He needs the coffee so he has a purchase that can reasonably last him hours before he's expected to spend more money, and hot coffee won't leave condensation on the table and get his paper wet. Staff knows him and their advice to each other is not to ask him questions because he will answer you, at length, in great detail, if it's something he knows about. But he occasionally just puts a couple 20s in the tip jar, so they've decided he's cool but kind of a weird nerd.

Blackwall: Seems like he'd be a "just a NORMAL COFFEE" kind of guy, but he's actually one of the staff's favorite customers. He's some kind of blue collar worker who comes in on the way to work and on the way home, and he gets the same thing every day: regular hot latte in the morning, decaf hot latte at night. He's always there at rush times, but he's polite and he tips even when service is crowded and messy. The baristas start making his coffee when we walks in the door if they notice him, so he rarely has to wait, but he seems flattered and grateful every time.

Sera: Her order is different every time she comes in and it's always something all fucked up and weird. Half the time she just shows them a screenshot on her phone of some complicated meme recipe from TikTok, or she wants whatever technicolor monstrosity frappuccino that's on special. The staff dreads her order, but she also has a habit of getting belligerent with customers who give the staff a hard time, so they're pretty sure Sera is like a part time security guard who demands meme drinks in payment. They're allowed to complain about her if they want, but they'll malicious compliance the fuck out or anyone else who does.

Iron Bull: He doesn't have a single go-to order, but he's nice and likes to ask the staff for recommendations if it's not too busy and lets them test new recipes on him. He always tries the seasonal flavors at least once. Sometimes he comes in with a group of friends who look like trouble on first glance, but Bull pays for them all at once, doesn't let them order blended drinks, and always makes sure they clean up after themselves, so it's okay.

Cullen: Just a NORMAL COFFEE. He's totally overwhelmed by the amount of choices, but this is the closest place to his office and getting out to buy coffee is his excuse to take a break and stretch his legs. The staff knows him and actually responds to "just a normal coffew" because it's too much trouble to interrogate him about which roast or what size cup, because last time he said, "I don't know, something dark? Whatever has the most caffeine in just a regular size to go cup." He's been drinking a medium blonde roast for years and still doesn't know what blonde roast is, save that he thinks he doesn't like it.

Leliana: Two shots of espresso over ice. Leliana had shit to do and she needs that caffeine in her body as fast as possible. The ice is there to keep her from burning her mouth off. She drinks it like it's whiskey and throws out her cup without even breaking stride.

Cole: Year round pumpkin spiced latte. If they're out of the syrup, he gets the cheapest thing on the menu, no add ins, and then doesn't drink it. He rarely comes in on his own; Cole is usually there with a friend and is aware that it's rude to be there without buying, but the pumpkin spice is the only thing he actually likes. He's polite but he creeps out the other customers with his thousand yard stare.

Cassandra: London Fog, but she never remembers what it's called. She drinks it because she wasn't sure and someone recommended it, but the name just will not stick in her head. She orders it as "hot Earl Grey tea with milk", she listens every time they say "okay, so a London Fog", but by the next time she's in she's forgotten. It's not really a big deal, though, she seems pretty overworked. At this point the staff would be sad if she did remember, honestly.

Vivienne: "The Usual". Literally only one barista knows her order, because it's some customized thing that that specific barista made for her once ages ago. Viv knows what's it in but she will not tell you because she doesn't trust anyone but that one barista to make it. If her regular person isn't around, she just gets a hot latte with sugar free vanilla. That one barista also won't tell you what's in it, but that's because Vivienne tips them directly instead of in the jar and they don't want to ruin a good thing.

**also if you like this and think "i'm gonna give this fine person a follow because they're so funny about dragon age", i made a new DA sideblog at @skyholdstarbucks where i'd post anything similar to this in the future

#bog post #i need a dedicated tag for these if I'm gonna keep doing them #dragon age #dai #cullen rutherford #leliana #josephine montilyet #cassandra pentaghast #blackwall #the iron bull #varric tethras #sera #cole #solas #vivienne de fer #dorian pavus #da headcanons

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the1975attheirverybest · 2 months

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Queen of hearts

Acknowledgements and Disclaimers: this one goes out to all the moms out there. New moms. Experienced moms. Mom-to be. Yall are heroes man. All the love.

Shout out to the mutual who helped answer my pregnancy questions. Thanks for letting me pester you. You know who you are. Any mischaracterizations of pregnancy, labor, or postpartum are completely my own.

Warnings: brief depictions of labor. Mentions of depression. Also not proof read.

***

9 months had flown by like a dream. The whole thing had felt like a movie. And Matty, having made a career out of making life feel like a movie, was wary of the whole thing. Of course they’d had their ups and downs. Worrying over what constitutes a good parent and whether they were going to fuck this child up before it even had a chance to grow up and make its own mistakes. The occasional shock over how powerful and real hormone fluctuations can be. The Braxton Hicks scare. The late night cravings and the crying (some of which was done by him, if he’s being honest). Arguing over baby names, if the kid should be allowed to play football before a certain age lest they get injured. If, being the child of artists meant that the child would be sign up for music and art lessons, or if they would wait and see what the kid naturally gravitates towards. If gender-neutral clothing was inherently boring and lifeless, or, if it was ‘too woke’ to have a baby girl in a car onesie or a baby boy is a butterfly onesie. It was, after all, a pregnancy, not a walk in the park. But he’d loved and welcomed every bit of it. And so had Jo. He’d swelled with joy watching her nest and acquire baby clothes, paint the nursery, and start a vintage stuffie collection. He’d helped her curate a little library of children’s books for kids of all ages, to make sure their baby would be guaranteed a great start, no matter how advanced they turned out to be (Jo and Matty, were, of course, convinced that their child would be a genius). Looking back, even the labor and delivery process seemed perfect.

Jo had screamed at him the whole day.

“We can’t actually go to the hospital just yet. I called. The front desk woman told me to stay put and put on some yoga music.”

Jo had unleashed a string of obscenities upon him that he has chosen to omit from memory ( he remembers them perfectly. She had asked him if he was a demented fucker or if he would like this baby to come out or a teeny tiny hole in his penis instead). He had laughed, told her that she was funny and that he was falling in love with her all over again. She’d thrown the tv remote at his head, missing narrowly.

His gravest mistake, however, was trying to document everything. He’d brought a film camera into the delivery room, which the nurses had balked at. But Matty has been used to being called eccentric so he didn’t care. He wanted to remember every single moment of this day forever. And, when Jo had failed to convince him by making the same arguments that he often proposed at his own shows, for his own fans to put the camera away and just be in the moment, she’d decided to teach him an lesson by choosing not to warn him about the messiness of childbirth. The next thing she heard him say was “oh. So much blood.” Before he’d dropped the godforsaken camera to the floor, smashing it to bits. And ridding everyone of its evils forever.

“Oh my god, she’s here, Jo! I can see her head!” He’d rushed over to her, with tears in his eyes, squeezing her hand. “C’mon, Jo. You’ve got this! One more push.”

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. It’s too much. I just- she’s gonna have to stay in there forever.”

“‘fraid we can’t do that, Josephine” the doctor shook her head. “She’s almost out which means it’s tight on her now, if you don’t push, you’re hurting her.”

Jo instantly burst into tears.

“No, no, no! Baby don’t cry!” Matty cooed, then turned towards the doctor. “Why the fuck would you say something like that to her? Right now, as well! are you TRYING to upset my wife right in the middle of the birth of my child?” He hovered over Jo protectively, wiping her sweaty forehead with one of the rags that the nurses had brought in, and kissing her. “You’re okay, Jo. Our baby is going to be okay. Deep breaths, yeah?”

“You promise?” She whispered, too embarrassed for the nurses and doctor to hear.

Matty swears, this, was the moment that he became a dad. Knowing that his wife and child needed him to be the sane and steady one for the first time completely changed him as a person.

Though he had no business making these promises, he’d never felt more certain of anything in his life. “I promise, my love. I’ve got you. And you’ve got our baby. She really needs you right now. So….lets do this, yeah?”

Jo nodded, watching the nurse approach and take her hand to pull her back into position.

“C’mon,love. One more push?” The matronly lady encouraged.

Jo screamed as she gave it her all, Matty’s hand in hers.

“Great! You’re doing great, Josephine! Give me one more push!” The doctor smiled.

“You said that last time! Every single time you say this is gonna be the last push! You’re fuckin lying.”

With tears in her eyes, Jo screamed and cussed out everyone in the room, pushing with all her might, until finally, the baby was out. She heard cheering and congratulations erupt around the room which was her cue to lay back and finally relax.

“Dad, Would you like to do the honors? cut the umbilical cord?” The nurse had asked.

“Oh? I- erm I …should. But I don’t wanna leave you? But also I don’t wanna leave…her- I….” Years later, Matty would realize that it was, in fact, this moment, that had made him into a dad. The moment that he felt conflict between choosing to stay by Jo’s side and hold her hand through what she had just accomplished , or let go of her hand to go meet his daughter instead.

“Go, Matty, go.” Jo had encouraged him, her voice weak from screaming. She nodded as he hesitantly loosened his hold on her hand.

“Let’s fuckin do this!” His shaky hands took the surgical scissors from the doctor and made the cut. “Oh my fuckin god, hiiii” matty cried as he met his daughter for the first time. He almost reached out to take her into his arms but, then, realized that it should be Jo who gets to hold her first.

“Would you like to-“

“Yes, oh god, yes, please?” Jo sat up straight.

Matty, with fresh tears still running down his cheeks, leapt into action adjusting her pillows to support her back as she leaned forward to receive her child.

“Oh god, Matty, look. She’s so….”

“Perfect.”

Everything, about Sophia, from conception to birth, had been perfect. So, it was a complete shock to Matty (and to Jo) when things changed postpartum.

It all started with Jo sleeping in a bit more than usual. At first, Matty had written it off as her body recovering from labor. After all, she’d literally housed, sheltered, and built a human being from scratch for 9 months. She was entitled to a little bit of extra sleep if that’s what she needed. Besides, he saw this as his opportunity to step in. While Jo was pregnant, Matty felt limited in how much help he could be. He flew back and forth in between tour dates to be at doctors appointments, and to help purchase the crib and pick out the nursery colors. He drove across the country to make it to specialty bakeries and shops to fulfill the strange flavor combinations of pregnancy cravings. But none of it was comparable to literally being pregnant. So, it was only fair that he take on some of the work now that the child was born, and let Jo get her rest.

He wanted to be the best dad he possibly could. So, he dove in head first. And he missed the signs. It wasn’t until he was holding Sophia in his arms, looking at Jo, as she laid in bed, saying “it’s a baby, Matty. All it does is cry and sleep. What does it want from me?” That he realized something was deeply wrong. By then, it was too late.

Matty walked around the messy house, eyes blood shot and sore. Whether it was the crying or the lack of sleep, he wasn’t sure. He went into the kitchen, pulling out a massive trash bag and hauling in all the empty takeout containers that had been sitting there all week, shoving them all into the trash bag. He needed to step up his housekeeping game. At this rate, they’ll be living in squalor by the next few days.

He pulled the only clean mug left out of the cupboard and reached for the coffee machine that had been on since this morning, pouring himself a cup.

“Fuckin hell.” He whispered at nothing in particular. What time was it? What day of week or month even was it? He tapped his phone screen for answers. It was a Wednesday in the middle of the month. Just shy of noon. He knew that the best thing he could possibly do for his family right now would be to admit that he’s in over his head. And ask for help.

***

“Where is she now?” Adam asked, stirring the sugar into Matty’s tea before placing the mug in front of him.

“home. Erm….the cleaning service is working on the house. Her mom is there, too, to watch Sophia while she showers and stuff, so….”

Adam nodded, at a loss for words. He squeezed Matty’s shoulder gently.

“What do I do? How do I fix this?” Matty’s eyes darted between Adam and Carly, who wizzed around the kitchen, preparing dinner, with her son at her feet.

“You can’t fix it, mate.” Adam shrugged. Sheepishly.

“I know; I know. But- what do I do?”

Adam simply rubbed his friends back, searching his brain for any words of solace or wisdom.

“Matty, have you eaten anything today?” Carly asked, with her back to him, standing at the stove and stirring something that Matty couldn’t quite see.

He was offended by the question. He’d come to her with the biggest problem he’s ever had to face and her response was to ask if he was hungry? Speechless and indignant, he shook his head. “I have not. No.” He gritted, anger palpable in his voice.

Carly knew better than to take it personally.

***

Carly and Adam exchanged a look. Adam nodded, rising to his feet and taking his child from between his mother’s legs. “C’mon, little man. It’s time for bed. Let’s get into the bath. Give mummy and uncle Matty a bit of time to chat.”

Carly walked over to Matty at the dining table, setting down two huge containers in front of him. “This one’s soup. This one’s chicken and veg. Take them home. Freeze the leftovers and defrost as needed.”

“Carly, I-“

“Comfort food is good. For both of you.” She smiled brightly. “She won’t have an appetite but keep offering it to her anyway.”

“Right.”

“I’m gonna send you a list. Maybe pop into the shops on your way home and buy some of it. Baby cream, nipple pads, stuff like that.”

Matty nodded, dutifully.

“I’ll speak to Patricia and Charli and everybody. We’ll start a rotation. Check in on her and- maybe even send you off to the store a few times. There are just some girl things that she might not have on. Just some bits and bobs to make her life easier.”

“Hmm. Yeah. I suppose.”

“Matty, darling, you know who you need to speak to here. Who she needs to speak to. And it isn’t me, and it isn’t Adam, or George, or Ross, or even a doctor who will rattle off some statistics at her. Why haven’t you done it yet?”

***

Carly was right. Matty knew the person for the job. The reason that he hadn’t called his mom yet was because he was ashamed. Ashamed to admit, in front of her, that he had failed. He’d failed his wife. Failed his kid. Failed to do what he claimed his mother’s struggle had taught him. Failed to be patient, failed to be empathetic. He expected too much from her and he resented her when she wouldn’t rise to it. And he hated that about himself.

But his mom was always there. All he needed to do was call her and say “mum, I need you.”

Denise rushed over.

“Oh, matty, it’s okay.” She placed her hand over his. “It’s different when it’s your partner, isn’t it?”

“Why, though? It shouldn’t be! It’s not like she’s any more or less of a person, a woman, or a mother than you were when you had me!”

Denise rolled her eyes. They both knew Matty was smarter than this. “Yeah, but that doesn’t matter, does it? You were 17 when I told you about my depression. It had been 17 years. You’d seen me differently. And you knew I loved you because you’d felt it your whole life. You were only finding out about that stuff after the fact. This is not the same. Besides, the way that you feel about your partner is not supposed to be like the way that you feel about your mother, or if it is then I haven’t done my job raising you right.”

Matty frowned and licked his lips, searching his brain for a clever comeback.

“You feel like you’ve been abandoned. Like she’s left all the parenting on you and you’re trying your best but she’s not giving you much to work with.” Denise simply stated.

Matty laughed in disbelief. “That’s absurd. She hasn’t abandoned me.”

“Course, she hasn’t. She’s got an illness, she’s not a bad mother. But that’s what it feels like. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared. You’re a new father too. You’ve got no idea what you’re doing and you want to be able to do turn to her but you can’t.”

“I- “ matty turned tongue-tied. Unsure how to respond. It made him uncomfortable to have his unspoken thoughts said out loud for him. “did dad ever…?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him. I didn’t really speak much to him at the time. Sort of….blamed him for it, actually. A part of me felt like, somehow, he had done this to me or something.”

Matty listened, wondering if Jo felt that way about him.

“In fact, why don’t you go do that right now. Call him round. I’ll get upstairs and check on Jo.”

***

Tim left Matty flipping through old photo albums and went to answer the door, smiling wide and proud when he was met with Louis at his brothers doorstep. “You’re joining the crew?”

“You didn’t think you’d have a party without me and I wouldn’t find out about it, did ya?” Louis winked. “Nah, mum called. Said to come to Matty’s instantly.”

“Get in there!” Denise appeared behind them. “And don’t call it a party that’s insensitive.”

She shut the door, beckoning both men to huddle in the corner with her.

“We’re all here for one thing and one thing only.” Denise spoke with the command of a military officer issuing orders . “To watch the baby for the next two days. We work in shifts. Louis, you’re young and still have your back. You’ll take the overnight shift. Tim you start now. I’ll step in between you two.”

The two men exchanged a smile, nodding.

“And if you want to be here off the clock, you are not a houseguest. You don’t just sit sound and expect to be catered to. Consider yourself a contributing member of the household. Roll up your sleeves and see what needs doing around here. Let’s give them some time and room to figure out what Jo needs.”

***

Matty felt his heart shatter into a million pieces inside his chest when he walked into their bedroom and saw Jo, hugging the duvet, with tears in her eyes.

He rushed over to her, but as he reached for her hand, he recalled all the times that he’d tried to initiate any form of physical intimacy over the last few weeks —a hug, a cuddle, a kiss, sex— only for her to turn him down. He pulled away, hesitant, and not wanting to pressure her into anything. He wasn’t sure if these attempts were his way of trying to comfort her or if it was himself who needed the comforting. He would never think that he could possibly understand what she was going through, but, he couldn’t deny that he needed her, too. So much so that he was certain a simple touch from her would bring him to his knees.

“Jo, Darling,” he whispered, “fuck. You have no idea how much I wish I could kiss you right now.“

Jo blushed as if it were the first time that he had ever looked at her that way.

“Your mom- Denise, she…well, she and I talked. I don’t think I’m okay, Matty.”

He sat on the bed, looking at her. She was a shell of the person that he’d fallen in love with. “It’s alright, baby-“

“How can it be alright? I’m a mother! I- I’m a danger to my own child. When I should be her first and fiercest protector!” Jo yelled, sobbing into her own hands.

The sound of her crying was worse than a knife to Matty’s chest.

“Well, it’s a good thing she’s got me, then, isn’t it?” Matty pulled her into his lap, laying her head against him.

“I love her…” Jo tried to convince herself of her own words “ I want to love her.”

“Course, you do, Jo. You’re just not able to feel much of anything right now. Because of what you’re going through. But, we’ll fix it. I promise. We will.” He planted a kiss to her head “I’m sorry, honey. I’m really sorry I let it get this bad.”

“Matty, it’s not your fault-“

“No, it is. I- I thought that I was being a good dad by prioritizing Sophia over you. I thought it was what I was supposed to do. I thought it was what was best for us all.” She felt Matty’s tears dripping down onto her hair. “But it’s you, Jo. You’re what’s best for all three of us. Sophia and I need you. We’re nothing without you.”

Jo wished she had the will or capacity to comfort him, to want to hold her daughter in her arms. She knew it must be difficult on him, and she hated being a source of his pain.

“I’m sorry, Matty-“

“No!” She felt him stiffen. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, you hear me? You’re not alone. Neither are Sophia and I. Look how many people it took to get us to talk” he giggled at the thought. “Look how many people love you and want to support you.”

He saw the beginnings of a smile on her face. “Carly has practically started a catering business trying to feed us. You should see our kitchen. It’s never been this stocked up even when we’re both at home.”

Jo let out a small chuckle, the first since Sophia was born.

To Matty, that small sound was like finding water in the middle of wandering the desert.

***

Matty walked up and down room at the pace that he had discovered was most comfortable for baby Sophia to nap. He rocked her gently in his arms whispering, “you’re gonna be a sweet quiet girl yeah? Look at mommy. She’s so pretty when she’s asleep next to your crib, don’t you think, Soph? You take after her, that’s for certain. Let’s go get mommy a blanket, yeah? Shall we? Look at you! Taking care of mommy already. Bestest baby in the world, you are.”

#valentine75 #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fluff #matty healy writing #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy imagine #matty healy x oc

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topguncortez · 1 year

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Over the Rainbow | Rooster & Dragon

Opposites Attract Masterlist

synopsis: A monarch butterfly, and mourning. The Bradshaws begin the path of moving on and creating a family. The beginning of 'Over the Rainbow' series

word count: 900

warnings: pregnancy, still birth, grief, angst

The night was cool as you sat on the beach with your toes in the sand. The sun had just set, the earth still somewhat light with a faint purple in the sky. The ocean was hitting gently against the sand, a cool sea breeze rolling off and wrapping around you. You could hear the sounds of the patrons in the Hard Deck, one of them being your husband.

You had learned that his callsign was more than a nod to his father, but for the way he would preen around the Hard Deck like a bird with their feathers fluffed out. Usually, you’d be right by him, being the little devil on his shoulder and encouraging it, but tonight was just too much.

Everything today reminded you of her. Everything.

From the smell of the lavender tea Rooster made for breakfast. To the monarch butterfly that landed on your car door. Everywhere you looked there seemed to be something that made you think of her. Not that you didn’t think about her on a daily basis, some days were just worse than others.

You felt a body come sit down next to you, and didn’t even have to look to know who it was. The Hard Deck had gone a bit quieter since his presence was missing. Bradley put his arm around you and kissed your temple. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying the warmth radiating off one another, until he spoke up, his eyes transfixed on the stars above him.

“I saw a monarch today,” Bradley said, and you closed your eyes. “Landed right on the tip of my jet, and just sat there, opening its wings several times before flying away.”

“I saw one today too,” You said and looked at your husband. He gave you a small smile, tears in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you. He pulled away but kept his forehead resting against yours, “She would be six months old today.”

“She would be,” He nodded. Your hand rested on his chest above his heart, where you knew that the thin cursive line tattoo resided.

Ida May

Ida May Bradshaw.

The beautiful baby girl who was brought to this earth sleeping.

After struggling and losing a baby with just trying to convenience naturally, you and Bradley decided to give IVF a go. You found a great doctor in the area that Val Machado had recommended. Doctor Josephine Miller, aka ‘Doctor Miracle’ had given you the greatest gift you had ever asked for. She said sometimes it was hard to get pregnant on the first round, but you and Bradley had gotten lucky. Everything had been fine, you were healthy, the baby was healthy. You and Bradley had just had your gender reveal party, when you collapsed at home that night. He called 9-1-1 immediately and never left your side, having to have hospital security physically remove him while the doctors aided you.

Late term miscarriage.

It had broken you and Bradley into pieces. You had never seen him so sad except for the night that you lost your first baby. He sat on your bed and held you in his arms as Doctor Miller told you the prognosis. She told you that there was nothing that you did that caused this, that sometimes it just happens. That the baby was somehow not compatible with life. Bradley had been your rock yet again, as you were induced that early morning, went through a fourteen hour labor, to give birth to your sleeping angel. He had come up with her name.

“I saw it on a list that my mother had written when she was pregnant with me. She circled it a bunch of times.”

Ida May

On the day you found out you were pregnant with her, a monarch butterfly had landed right on your hand as you sat in the backyard. Rooster had cried, telling you that it was a sign from his mother, who had loved the butterfly. When you laid Ida to rest, the two of you released two monarchs into the world. And anytime you felt like you missed her, or needed a sign that she was alright, a monarch seemed to land right by you.

“I think we should try again,” You whispered, “I. . . I have been thinking about it and then today. . . the monarch-”

“Me too,” Bradley agreed, taking his hands in yours, “I would like to try again, too. Only if you-”

“I want to,” You nodded your head, tears starting to roll down your cheeks, “I want to try again, but god, Bradley. . . What if I forget about her? What if I have a baby and forget all-”

“You won’t, honey, you will never forget Ida. Moving on can be terrifying, I mean, I was terrified to sell my mom’s house, or to move out on my own. But starting over is apart of the grieving process,” You hated that Bradley knew so much about the grieving process, but there was no one better for you to have by your side than someone who was well versed in the art of grieving, “I think today, Ida was telling us that it’s alright. It felt like-”

“Closure.”

Bradley nodded. You looked back to the ocean and took a deep breath. Having a family with Bradley was all you had been dreaming about these past couple weeks. You wanted to make him happy. You wanted him to have a chance to be a dad. You wanted the chance to be a mom, yourself. You looked back at your husband, and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to your face and kissing the palm gently.

“Let’s have another baby.”

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pejite · 1 month

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That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Langley farmhouse, they extended a special invitation to Mary Elizabeth and Josephine for dinner. It was a celebration, not just of the bountiful harvest but of the promising winter ahead, filled with warmth and plenty.

Wilhelmina and Mary Elizabeth set about preparing the feast, their laughter mingling with the aroma of freshly gathered vegetables and the sizzle of meat in the pan. It promised to be a spread unlike any they'd enjoyed in years, boasting an array of meats, cheeses, eggs still warm from the nest, and an assortment of crisp, garden-fresh vegetables.

As they worked side by side in the kitchen, Wilhelmina paused, her whisk suspended mid-air. "How are things with...?" she inquired, her eyes alight with curiosity, her voice soft with genuine interest. Mary Elizabeth, her hands adorned with the stains of honest toil, looked up from her task, a tender smile gracing her lips.

"Edmund. His name is Edmund" she replied, her tone suffused with a blend of wonder and joy. "Well... they're going quite well, truth be told. It's all still so surreal, Wilhelmina. To think that as a widow with a child, I never imagined I'd find someone who'd want me." Her fingers intertwined, betraying the swirl of emotions within her. "Especially at my age" she added, a mixture of pride and disbelief colouring her words, for though she was nearing thirty, the prospect of new love still felt like a wondrous, unexpected gift.

A soft chuckle escaped Wilhelmina as she listened to Mary Elizabeth speak of her budding romance. "And do you think he'll pop the question soon? You've been courting for quite some time now" she teased gently, her eyes twinkling with playful anticipation.

With a resolute nod, Mary Elizabeth's gaze sparkled with unwavering certainty. "We're meeting again next week, and I just know he'll take that leap. And if he does." she mused, her heart swelling with hope, "I could bid farewell to the toil of work, and Josephine... well, she'd finally have the father she deserves."

They meticulously crafted a rich mince pie, slow-cooking it over a wood fire in a skillet nestled in the oven. Alongside, they whipped up Bubble and Squeak using the freshly harvested vegetables, complemented by a selection of sausages Mary Elizabeth had brought. To conclude the feast, they indulged in a batch of homemade traditional custard.

As the fragrant aroma of their culinary creations filled the air, they presented the savory pie adorned with peas and creamy mashed potatoes. The children's eyes widened in wonder; such culinary delights were a rarity, savored only on significant occasions and when financial resources allowed. For them, accustomed to humble fare like porridge and hearty vegetable stews, the prospect of the sumptuous meal sparked eager anticipation.

Taking advantage of the lingering warmth of the pre-winter evening, they gathered around tables hastily joined together to accommodate everyone. Under the soft glow of the setting sun, laughter echoed across the yard, mingling with the clinking of cutlery and the joyful chatter of friends and family. It was a night to cherish, a fleeting moment of shared happiness and culinary delight amidst the tranquility of rural life.

#ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #1830s #the langley legacy #wilhelmina langley #edwin langley #thomas langley #rosemary langley #winifred langley #robert langley #mary elizabeth aldridge #josephine aldridge

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evita-shelby · 2 months

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It's Only a Paper Moon

Diane x Bucky

Cw:allusion to premarital sex?

For @yorkshirekiwi

Based around this version of the song

She offers a carved flask, and he accepts it with a muttered thank you. She looked like Collen Moore with those eyes of hers, one brown, one blue. Very pretty too.

“Gin?” He asks after handing the flask back mostly empty. Tasted like Shelby Gin if you asked him, just as sweet as he likes it.

“My dad’s personal recipe.” The nurse said with a shrug and emptied the rest of it herself. The Shelbys were English, what were the odds the Shelby Gin heiress was the pretty nurse with the strange eyes sitting here with him?

If it had been a shit day for him, it would have been about as bad for her as well. Her hair is falling out of the impeccable bun she’d had on when they arrived, her uniform stained with blood and grime and looks older than she looked when he last saw her.

She doesn’t smoke, and yet she took a cigarette break. More like an excuse to just calm down before having to go back to the triage.

“Name’s John, everyone calls me Bucky.” He smiles and wipes a smudge of blood off her cheek with his sleeve.

“Diane, Nurse Shelby when I’m om the clock and Di when I’m not.” She returned his smile and Bucky knew he just had to take out this posh English girl dancing.

“Any plans for tonight, Lady Di?” he needs a drink, to sing and maybe even a fuck too. Good thing he had no prior commitments to keep him from doing that last bit.

Those RAF Officers would hate it so much if they saw him with her, wouldn’t they? What was it that they’d said, an American thinks he can fuck a duchess?

“Free as a bird, Major.” Lady Di answers and tells him where he can find her.

“Call me Bucky.”

They talk about him as if he were a Hollywood star, him and his friend, Gale. They had the looks and the charm, even if Bucky often did all the talking.

She wore pale pink with red earrings, red as her lipstick and her shiny heels that barely had her reach his shoulders. Not that it matters, John Egan was too good of a dancer to care about the disparity in their height.

He’s great fun, sings along to the music and yet knows his limits despite having the same intention as every man before him. She’d fuck him of course, she needs the release as much as he does, might as well send him off to die having had a great night.

“How do you live in a place like this, no sunshine no good food?” he asks ordering them both drinks. He knows who she is given by that grin when he gets them Shelby Whiskey.

“My mother’s foreign, from Mexico, and my dad is Romani, a gypsy if you aren’t familiar with the word. So, I get great food and I can always chase the sun whether on land or over the water.” She thanks the barkeep and wonders if he’s done his research on her like the some of the others have. “Besides, it has its charms, Arrow House is known for gardens and woods you can get lost in.”

Diane had done her homework on him, there was always a need to properly vet the people she slept with, especially since her father was in the House of Commons and his factories supplied so much for the war effort.

Perhaps made the connection between her and the gin. The Americans wouldn’t be so careless as to have him spy on her, or realize she was here to see what sort of shit the yanks weren’t telling the Crown.

John Clarence Egan, from Manitowoc, Wisconsin, born September 9, 1915. A shit singer, with a devil may care attitude that made you forget this war and not some movie. He had a girl back home, Josephine Ada Pitz, the first female pilot in their town. He was fond of Shelby alcohol, something that had cemented itself in the hearts of the American working class even before prohibition ended.

“The best of both worlds, then.” He said and proposed a toast to it.

“I heard you sing, Major.” Diane mentions and feeling her heart flutter when he grins widely.

“Like a donkey in a church choir, but it doesn’t matter if you’re loud. Do you, Lady Di?” Bucky asks with his eyes shining in mischief.

“How about you pick the song, Bucky, and I’ll show you?” No wonder the ladies here were crazy for him and his friend. John Egan could get dowdy Queen Elizabeth to jump into his bed if he set his mind to it.

“Paper Moon.”

Its not long before they’re sneaking around for more than just a few drinks and couple of songs that same night.

“You know what I want?” he asks as they move into the sparse woods on the base in search for privacy. The supply closet was already claimed, neither wished to risk their sleeping quarters and there was no way to go to the bed and breakfast nearest the base.

“I hope its not a virgin, Bucky.” She teases kissing him again and tugging him to her by his belt buckle.

“No, not that, Lady Di.” He presses her back to the tree, not caring they’ll be discovered and punished for this. But he’s a good kisser, and the rough bark turns her on even more. “I want to feel something other than whatever the fuck’s gotten into me, Di.”

“Don’t we all, Egan. Only a paper moon, isn’t it?” The singing, the dancing and the feel of understanding as they gave into their attraction for each other, all of that was just to sate their needs for the night and go their separate ways once it was over. Not that Diane judged him for it, not one bit.

They could die tomorrow and no one but a handful of people would care about it.

Only a paper moon sailing over a cardboard sky after all.

It becomes a habit, she is Bucky’s girl even if they are technically only friends who fuck each other and sing together.

She reads cards and knows the future, not that he’s ever believed in that bullshit, but she’s not been wrong when she tells him he’ll come back each time he leaves.

Wouldn’t be make-believe if you believed me, she sings when he doubts her predictions out of habit most days.

Still this is all a paper moon and she’ll move on soon enough. They all do.

“Won’t your girl back home be angry you’re singing and fucking an English girl?” Diane asks as they devour each other in the little bed and breakfast every soldier has used at some point. Before the Americans came in it was the RAF and before that just normal people with no fear of dying after.

“Shit’s been over since I came here, not the pen pal type, Di.” he hadn’t thought about Jo since he got command of his squadron and returned to flying. She’d sent some letters then once she saw he wasn’t going to write back, Jo stopped writing. They always do.

“Just making sure I’m not your dirty little secret.” The nurse assured him as their paper moon hung in the sky.

“Are you gonna come dancing tonight?” he asks once the moment is over and they pretend they don’t have other shit going on. They’re just another pair of lovers making use of the bed and its warmth.

“Only if you ask me nicely, Major.” She flutters her lashes and kissed him sweetly.

He likes her, likes the feeling of knowing she’s here waiting for him.

Strange how he sought her out so he could feel something else for a change, and got more than he’d even asked for.

Everything’s make-believe until you believe in it.

That night he gets the band to play Paper Moon.

He sings to it and she blushes feeling every single damn thing he is now trying to tell her. Perhaps she really was a witch, after all.

“But it wouldn’t be make-believe if you believed me,” Di sang softly, just to him, as she kissed him like she loved him.

“Do you want me to bring you back anything from my next flight, sweetheart?” he asks knowing whatever she answers won’t make sense until after his mission.

“Last nice thing you see in Algeria, preferably jewelry of some kind.” Her mismatched eyes gleam in knowing he finds it hard to believe her words.

John and those who survived Regensburg stay in Algeria for a week, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t find something nice for her before his tine there is up.

On his last day in Algeria, he buys a silver locket with a carved moon where he puts a picture of himself.

He loves her, as strange as it feels to admit it even to Buck, who only teases him for it.

“You should’ve gotten the ring instead, Bucky.” Gale jokes and Bucky hates to admit that he’s right, but there will be time for that if he is to believe his witch.

They celebrate his return with gin and she wears the locket as he takes her on the same tree they fucked against that first night.

He takes her picture with him on missions and likes the kiss she pressed on the back of it along with the lyrics to the last bit of Paper Moons as part of their inside joke. Bucky is a skeptic and no matter the proof to what she envisions, he still does not put much stock on her words.

He didn’t believe her that he’d survive this long, he is only about ten missions away from the holy number and she tells him she sees him surviving the war. Bucky believes that part after Regensburg, tells her himself as he grieves for his friends who didn’t make it.

“I wanted to feel something that night and now I think I feel something else tonight.” He admits as they sit under the tree, and he wraps his sheepskin over her shoulders even if he is the one not used to English autumns.

Gale may think the sheepskin ugly, but Diane likes the comfort of it, of John’s aftershave and cologne, the faint smell of his own sweat and even the detergent used to wash it. It is him almost as much as he is himself.

She wears it when he lets her, once she surprised him wearing only it at their little rented room. Bucky had undone the zipper slowly and kissed every inch he freed from its confines.

She loves him, and he loves her even if he cannot make himself say it outloud…yet.

“And what is it that you feel, Major?” the witch asks loving the way he smiles at her question.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Lady Di.”

He believes her until he doesn’t.

“You have to be wrong, check your cards again.” He cannot believe her words.

Gale Cleven wasn’t gonna be shot down over Bremen. No, he couldn’t. Not Buck.

“I’m sorry, Bucky, I can’t change things just because you ask.” The witch said and put away her tarot cards after a fourth reading.

He shouldn’t have believed her, why did he do this to himself? He��d never believed in this bullshit and now he won’t.

Buck was gonna live, he wasn’t going to go down in his next mission because Diane’s psychic bullshit is just a fucking paper moon.

Bucky can’t even find the words to warn Buck that night and before he knows it, he’s been given a two-day pass to London. Di offers to set him up at her parents’ house since they’re not there, but he refuses because he cannot even look at her without being angry.

He can’t even tell who he is angry at, her, her cards or fucking God himself.

She gives him her address either way and after giving up trying to forget her with the Polish Widow who didn’t care he had his Lady Di; Bucky finds himself watching the bombs from the window in her bedroom.

Bucky Egan doesn’t wake until noon and calls from the telephone on the desk of Thomas Shelby MP OBE praying to God Diane was wrong.

“Norfolk 7322, please.”

Diane finds him crying and raging against God for taking Buck.

“I’m gonna kill those fuckers, for Gale.” He vows as he breaks apart in her arms.

“He’s not dead, you’ll see when you meet him again.” The witch assures him and he is too out of it to even consider she might be right, just as she was before. “I said he’d be shot down, not killed, Bucky.”

She stays in London while he returns to duty a day earlier than planned.

When packs her picture for his next mission, he reads what she wrote on the back of it on his birthday last month.

It’s phony, it’s plain to see

How happy I would be

If you believed in me

Bucky leaves without asking her how Munster will go and asks Crosby to give her his sheepskin for him.

When Diane saw what would happen in Munster, she could not speak.

He wouldn’t die, no, she’d feel it in her heart if he was, but knowing he wouldn’t be coming back from this mission has her doubting her own visions.

She loves him, loves him so deeply she cannot imagine a life without him in it. They’d joked about marriage, about he’d take his Lady Di and marry her in Manitowoc in the same parish he went to with his parents all his life, how they’d be Mr. and Mrs. Egan and have a daughter named Rosemary Gale after Rosemary Clooney and Gale Cleven because Gale’s a girl’s name.

Harry Crosby comes to give his condolences and Bucky’s jacket at her doorstep, but she refuses to accept his word that he’s gone.

“Bucky’s not dead, he’ll come back here. I’ve seen it.” She lies as she takes Bucky’s sheepskin and cries herself to sleep in it while humming ‘It’s only a paper moon.’

Lady Di keeps herself busy working as a nurse as if she were possessed until a letter from a prisoner of war camp in Germany arrives written by John Clarence Egan himself.

‘I need a new picture, Lady Di, I believed in you so much I lost it in a German field’, he writes and adds, ‘Buck says hello.’

Diane sends her picture with the same words as before and sprays enough perfume on her letter for it to still smell of her when it arrives several months after it should’ve been.

And because he believes her now, she works with the Crown and the Americans to keep him and his comrades safe until they’re brought home.

‘If you can stay put for me, I’ll let you take me to Manitowoc, Wisconsin, Bucky,’ she writes on the postscript of her letter to him. In the same letter she makes sure to name drop her dear friend Lilibet Windsor, the Princess of Wales, who agrees to send her regards if it means he and the rest of the prisoners are not executed by the Nazis.

“You were right, I should’ve picked the ring instead of the locket.” Bucky tells his friend who’s gone distracted by his Marge’s letters.

“Can’t be your best man nor you mine if we have a double wedding, Bucky.” Gale jokes after sharing his good news.

"Our girls deserve their own day, don’t they?” he laughs with renewed strength knowing he and Buck aren’t going to die in this shithole.

He consults with his witch, plans accordingly and so far everything goes well even if they have to wait until she finds what day is best for their escape.

When they escape on January 27th of 1944, he is humming Paper Moon to himself and tells Buck that’s going to be the first dance he and Mrs. Egan will dance at their wedding.

Bucky’s not been a whole day back on Thorpe Abbotts when he finds her waiting in only his sheepskin and the locket at their hotel room singing Paper Moon with two glasses of champagne.

She sings beautifully, she’d be a star if she wanted, but she’s perfectly happy as she is, as the soon to be Mrs. John Egan.

He’s bought the ring, a silver one to match the locket with moons carved all around it. Inside it says the same words as her picture.

“Only if you ask me nicely, Major.” She whispers knowing everything with those pretty eyes of hers.

John Clarance Egan elopes with her the moment the ring is done, on February 14th, 1945, with Buck as his best man and Diane’s best friend who came all the way from Margate, as her maid of honor at the dance hall with the chaplain officiating and the Valentine’s Day dance serving as their reception.

“I heard you sing, Bucky.” Allie Solomons asks, having only heard of him through letters and Diane’s words.

“Like a donkey in a church choir,” his wife grins and he took the bait.

“Pick a song, sweetheart, and I’ll show you.”

#bucky egan #bucky x oc #john bucky egan #john c egan #masters of the air #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #diane shelby #bucky egan x diane shelby #Spotify

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oldfashionedmorphine · 9 months

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hi friends!! i’m super excited to share Will’s perspective from the scene in the basement all the way back in chapter 4 of i’m a wreck (without you here)!!!

i highly recommend reading chapter 17 first!!! 😉

(it’s 2.7k words! oh and psa for anyone who has read my story so far—especially if you haven’t read this chapter in a while: i have gone back and fixed some things i didn’t like cause as much as i loved this chapter, i published it before i was 100% satisfied with it…but it works better now! also idk why but i kinda like Will’s pov more 👀)

🎵🎶 and look!! i even picked out songs!!! :D

tagging my fans: @across-thestars @boahey @magentamee @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @greenfiend @rebellius @booksandpaperss @castelobyers @total-serene560 @wheelersboy @sparks-olivarpente @hazmatazz @suzieburself @unrepentant-byler-shipper @quarter-pasteleven

Enjoy!

Cause It’s the Only Thing I Wanna Do

June 22, 2004 11:47 pm

“—I really wanna know how you’ve actually been, you know, from you.”

“Well, uh...” Mike starts to say, but then he pauses, eyebrows lifting, eyes wide—it looked as though he were trying to figure out where to start first. And then Will watches Mike pour himself another shot, slamming it down fast, and sucking his teeth before he continues, “Well...I live in an apartment, it’s not terrible. Rent is a little expensive where I’m at, so I have a roommate—he’s a law student and I rarely ever see him—but anyway, I had a lot of financial mishaps over the years, so I never quite got out of the cycle of renting to own anything...or heck, even live alone. But it doesn’t really bother me though—I have a cat, her name’s Josephine—that was her name at the shelter and I thought it was cute so I kept it—and uh...definitely no girlfriend…”

Definitely no girlfriend?

The way he had said it raised a tiny little flag in Will’s mind. And then there was a pause between Mike’s words—Will almost found the nerve to ask him to elaborate, but then Mike shakes his head slightly and he’s back to speaking, “And the weather is pretty dreary. Both Nancy and Holly were convinced I have depression. They’re probably right. They said the weather only makes it worse. It does get lonely sometimes too—my relationships—well, nothing ever sticks. Honestly, it's mostly sucked, but I can’t bring myself to leave.”

Will pulls his knees to his chest, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting to hear, but hearing Mike talk about feeling lonely and how his sisters were convinced he had depression didn’t sit well with him. Once upon a time, back during the darker days of being so incredibly furious because Mike had left him behind, there were times when Will had hoped he was miserable, but eventually he grew out of that mindset after his heart hurt less, and over the past couple years, whenever he thought of Mike, he liked to imagine he was happy somehow, even if it was without him. And all the things he knew from afar—the things Nancy had told him—were all positive because she had never once mentioned anything about depression, she only informed him of the highlights. Simple stuff like Mike getting a new job or how he had sent gifts for the kids, and he knew about the cat, just not her name, but of course each time Nancy would also add a little something to the effect of ‘You know, I think he misses you, you should try talking to him—I have his number if you want it’, but of course, he couldn’t do it. He wanted to call, but too much time had passed…and it wasn’t like Mike ever tried to reach out either—Nancy had his number too, so she probably offered it to Mike at some point as well. Ultimately, it felt like the damage was too severe to ever recover from. And it was also very hard to believe that Nancy was really telling the truth—that Mike actually missed him—and not just meddling to make family gatherings less awkward. Maybe she had hoped that if the two of them were friends again, then her brother would be more inclined to visit. Perhaps a selfish motive, but if that was the truth, then he could understand why she would try and make the effort. In the end, Will thought it was best to leave it alone, because there would be less chance of getting hurt again that way…

And when Will realizes Mike had left him a short window to speak, he takes it—he wants Mike to know he's listening. “Why not? If it sucks, why not move somewhere else? What’s stopping you? It’s not like you haven’t done a big move before. Just go somewhere more affordable,” but Mike’s face was still sour, so Will makes a small attempt to provoke a smile with a teasing tone, “and with better weather.”

“I dunno. It’s stupid when I think about it now, but I pissed everyone off back when I first moved—and then you wouldn’t talk to me anymore—I guess I just felt like it all had to mean something.”

Will quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Mike keeps his eyes cast down at his hands, fidgeting with an empty shot glass. “I mean, that me living there, in Seattle, couldn’t be all for nothing. And I only realize now that I was being so fucking stubborn about it. It’s just that...half the time—half the time I was embarrassed that I didn’t live up to my parents expectations. I could have been more—or something. Something more. I had really hoped being somewhere else would have helped, like when people talk about a ‘fresh start’, but I just feel like—I dunno, like I’m going through the motions.” He scoffs. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but...if twelve year old me could see me now I’m sure he’d be pretty disappointed. I let myself get knocked down because of a couple dumbass choices—any normal person would have dusted themselves off and tried again. But not me.”

“Oh…” Will murmurs. He wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Not me...or I dunno, maybe I was just punishing myself.”

Again he watches Mike pour himself another shot of vodka, filling it to the very brim this time, almost to the point it spills over, and as he brings the shot to his mouth, some of the liquor drips onto his shirt and the floor. It was clear Mike’s coordination was wavering with each additional shot. And then Mike offers to pour Will another, but he shakes his head, refusing—Will knew his limits. Three shots of vodka was more than enough, possibly too much, because he was definitely feeling it. If he drank any more he’d regret it in the morning. Not to mention he wasn’t a big fan of getting drunk to begin with. He always feared he’d end up like his deadbeat dad if he wasn’t careful about pacing himself when it came to alcohol.

Mike sets the bottle back on the coffee table. “You probably know this, but I was also holding a major…major grudge against my dad for the longest fucking time because of his—well, cause of all those things he said.” He chuckles, which Will found to be a bit unsettling considering what Mike was saying. “At one point my mom even said that he was ‘sorry for everything’ and that he wanted to try to ‘make amends’…part of me thought she was just saying it to force me to apologize first, but I still couldn’t face him even if it was the damn truth. Like, I just couldn’t trust that he really felt differently after everything—well ‘cause, all those horrible things he said—the things he implied…even about you, they might as well have been…about me. Y’know? I mean, they were…they are, he just didn’t know it. And I really didn’t think he’d still be sorry if he knew about that.”

Wait—what? Did he just—

Will was stunned, though he wasn’t sure he heard him right. Because it wasn’t like he had said the words outright, yet it sounded a hell of a lot like he was implying that—

And now Mike was looking over at him, full of panic, with the kind of expression you’d expect from someone who just revealed a truth they never meant to share. His eyes remain locked on Mike, but the longer he stares at him the more confused it makes him, so Will drops his gaze to the floor and tightens his arms around his legs. No matter how Mike’s face seemed, it wasn’t confirmation of what he thought he heard—hopes he heard.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will sees Mike reaching for the vodka again, this time drinking straight from the bottle. Part of him wanted to snatch the bottle away from Mike—I think you’ve had enough, mister, you’ll regret another drop—except he can’t seem to move a damn muscle for some reason.

And after a moment Mike sighs, setting the bottle down. “Of course, I don’t exactly know how he would’ve handled the news—I mean, obviously I never told him—or anyone from back then—”

But what else would have upset his father so much? What could it possibly have been that he never told him…or anyone else? Drugs? No, because he said it had something to do with me too, so that can’t be it, not to mention the way he emphasized—

Mike hiccups. “As I say this now, you’re the first I’ve—”

Okay, but I’m the first what? I need you to say it!

“—and of course I never let it go with him...but then...it was too late. The option to even think about—well, about finally forgiving him...and telling him the truth about me—”

The truth about—okay, yeah, that has to be it—Ted must’ve said a bunch of homophobic shit to Mike and I was roped into the mix somehow, because Mike said his dad ‘implied horrible things’ that involved me, yet all of it also applied to Mike? So then he must’ve meant that he’s gay…or maybe he’s bisexual? What else would make Ted Wheeler lose his shit? What else would he want to conceal for so long? And that still had to do with me somehow—cause it sure as shit wouldn’t have been over video games…plus…no one—not Nancy, Holly, Karen, El, or any one else—has ever once mentioned anything to me about Mike having a girlfriend since…high school…

“—cut all the bullshit, but...it didn’t. And I didn’t even go—didn’t even go to his funeral. I didn’t deserve to. It’s stupid—or I’m stupid. And now with Nancy—I didn’t—fuck—I didn’t even...consider...that I had so little time left with her. And...my options were taken away...again. I could have—I could have...seen her more. I know we weren’t always...the closest, but she—she definitely made more effort than me—if I had just...been less of a dipshit and forced myself to visit...but now—well, I can’t do that anymore. She’s gone, Will. She’s really...” Mike pauses, then he whispers, “gone.”

And then Will looks back over at Mike—he was using his sleeves to dry his eyes, but his tears were relentless, continuing to spill over, and with snot also dripping from his nose. The mere sight of Mike in this state elicits tears of his own, as well as an overwhelming urge to comfort him, to offer him a shoulder, but when Will starts to inch closer to him, he hesitates. There was a time they used to hug, but what if Mike didn’t want to be touched?

Fuck it—he can push me away if he needs to.

Will must have caught him by surprise with his sudden impulse, because now Mike’s looking at him with glossy bloodshot eyes as a shuddered gasp escapes his pale lips. And then Mike starts to tremble as though he were on the cusp of shattering into a million pieces. But for a single selfish second, as Mike was falling apart right before his eyes, Will can’t help but marvel at the sheer impossibility of the situation. At how close he was to Mike. Their knees were now pressed together and the scent of his shampoo was so prominent—citrus and mint—mixed with a hint of alcohol coming from his breath. But the moment passes and then the instinct to wrap an arm around him kicks in, to draw him even closer. Mike’s head immediately falls onto Will’s shoulder and his sobs grow louder.

And between sobs and sniffles Mike starts stuttering, “I’m n-never gonna see her again—ever. Never hear her voice—see her s-smile. Never—and I missed out—the pictures—her! Never, n-never—I’m so stupid—stupid—” Without any warning, Mike moves to throw his arms around Will, seeming desperate as he grabs onto his shirt, pulling at the fabric so intensely that threads begin to snap, threatening to rip the seams apart entirely—hey, I like this shirt—except Will couldn't find it in him to make Mike stop. All he can do is try and hold him and hope that it helps. And when Mike starts to beg softly into his ear, the words tug even more at his heartstrings, “Please, please—don’t go. Please, you can’t go. Please, please s-stay—ple-please don’t go. I don’t want—I don’t want—don’t leave me again. Please, please don’t—don’t—don’t—” then Mike tucks his face into the crook of Will’s neck, his pleading words becoming too muffled to comprehend.

Will tries to ignore the small part inside of him that feels betrayed for allowing himself to get this close to Mike and risk his heart all over again. And he briefly thinks back to when he held that number in his hand, debating with himself for hours before he pushed a single button—before he ever left that voicemail—because he knew exactly what would happen. It was a slippery slope and the stakes were high. But of course, a larger part of him wanted Mike back more than anything, so he had set aside his fear and from the very second he dialed his number, he was all in—heart unsheathed and vulnerable. And now here he was, sitting on the floor of an old familiar basement, more than a little tipsy, with Michael Wheeler drunk and trembling in his arms, begging for him to never leave him again.

But tomorrow Mike would wake up and not remember any of this. And if Will were to ask him about it, he’d reply that he didn’t mean anything he said. That it was all a mistake. That it was only extreme grief and copious amounts of vodka that made him utter such words, but Will tries to ignore every invading thought. Thoughts driven only by fear—a defense mechanism designed to shield his heart by preparing him for some hypothetical worst case scenario like last time. Because something inside him was fully aware that he had slipped over that edge and he was falling once again for the idea of spending the rest of their lives together. And that maybe he wouldn’t survive this time if it all went wrong.

But it won’t. Not this time. This time it’ll be different—no more hiding.

“Hey, hey...it’s gonna be okay. I’m here...” Will whispers to him as he brings a hand up to stroke the back of Mike’s head, his hair the slightest bit damp to the touch, and then slowly his shaking begins to subside. “I know it hurts. But it’s gonna be okay... maybe not right now, but someday.”

Mike’s sobs taper off until the only sound filling the space in the room was REO Speedwagon’s Keep On Loving You;

“…When I said that I love you, I meant that I love you forever…”

Will rocks him gently side to side, humming the song as if it were a lullaby. Eventually Mike grows heavier in his arms and Will realizes it would be better for Mike to sleep in a bed, so he tries to rouse him. “Mike?”

No answer, so he tries again, giving him a little shake. “Mike…Mike?”

“Hmm.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed—”

He groans at the suggestion.

“You can’t sleep like this, come on…”

Mike mumbles—it sounds like he was asking him to stay.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

He finally manages to help him up, but they only get as far as the sofa bed right behind them. At first they both stay sitting at the very edge, with Mike still trying to hold onto Will, but in the end, Will gently eases him towards the pillow and he goes out like a light.

Will tilts his head as he leans over him, then reaches a hand out—at first it was to simply push back the hair from Mike’s eyes, but right after, he caresses his cheek with the back of his hand. Even with puffy eyes and tear-soaked skin with splotches of red, he was beautiful. Maybe more so now than ever before.

And Will felt guilty for wanting to capture Mike in such a dark moment. But that feeling didn’t stop him from picking up his sketchbook off the floor and opening it to an empty page…

#byler #byler fanfic #byler fanfiction #iawwyh

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plutotcles · 1 year

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BITTERLY, JOSEPHINE SHOUPE ━━━ JJ Maybank.

→ back to. . . series masterlist.

PAIRING, JJ Maybank x Josephine "Josie" Shoupe (OC)

CHAPTER SUMMARY, Feeling lonely at a kegger, Josephine indulges into one of her worst habits but luckily for her, someone is always there to pick up the pieces in the morning.

WARNINGS, Some heavy drug abuse, allusions to sex and some hints at suicide ideation

Josephine Shoupe was no stranger to death and destruction. It was the thing that made her sleep at night, the song of death lulled her to sleep as the high of the pills soothed the everlasting low of her thoughts. She buried herself in day-long parties with meaningless hookups and drugs she didn't even know the name of, wrapped herself in a blanket of blissful ignorance and died every night all over again on the floor of her room, still dressed in tull and silk, skin sweaty and vomit in her hair—In an odd way, this is where she felt safest. With the lights dimmed and her rawest self for anyone, who was brave enough to tear down the walls that caged her heart and memories and tears, out on display.

The drugs were her asylum, her ivory tower. They were her lighthouse, the same way JJ Maybank was her siren.

JJ sang his siren-song, as he stumbled into history class, fashionably late, smelling off of weed and the sea with a laugh and the deathly call for an adventure and safety. That was, to Josephine Shoupe, what described JJ Maybank best—He was her safety line and her destruction all in one.

He was the one who did not tear down her walls, but climbed them up—He was the one who held her while she wept and watched her as she roared. And perhaps that was what made him seem so dangerous to her: He saw her at her lowest and did not leave, offered her safety at a point where everyone else abandoned her to fend herself, but to Josie that was not protection; that was a danger.

To be vulnerable to someone was not being strong, it was being weak. To kiss JJ Maybank under a lonesome star was not love, it was her slaughter house.

Josie's father—the great sheriff Victor Shoupe—had always tried to warn her, to keep her away from the scary, scary Pogue boys like JJ Maybank and John B Routledge but with one leg in the Pogue life and one leg in the Kook life Josie was confident she had chosen her family just right in the Pogues. Besides, when had Josie ever listened to her father.

JJ's heart was in the right place, Josie was sure, as was hers. They were two kids, left behind by the world—abandoned, neglected, you name it, they did not know what it was to be truly loved but they did their best. They had each other and if that was not enough, what could be?

"Are you okay?", a familiar voice broke her out of her thoughts, John B pushing a dripping beer right into her face.

Josie turned to face him with a crooked smile, taking the can with a feigned sigh, "Of course I am."

"Now, now, now", John B chastised, pushing her softly so he could sit next to her, "I got you the last cold beer so you better talk or I'm gonna take it back and drink it all on my own."

If there was one person Josie would trust with her life it was John B Routledge. He had been the first person to ever offer Josephine tenderness after her mother had left her all those years ago—He had been the one to save her life in more ways that he knew, the one who had showed up at her house just moments before she was about to end it all because he had a feeling she needed him. John B Routledge, and Josie was convinced of that, was her soulmate and still she felt like she could not talk to him about everything that happened.

Over the past months—ever since shit hit the fan—she had pushed her friends, especially the two J's of the group further and further away from her. In a way it felt solacing to know that she was protecting them from the horror that was her head, still sometimes she longed for just an ounce of comfort. That was typically when her head was up in the clouds and JJ Maybank came into the picture like something brough him to her whenever she needed him.

Josie sighed once again, leaning her head against John B's shoulder, "Seriously, B, I'm okay. Just very tired, dad was screaming at me the entire night."

It was no secret around the island that Victor and Josephine Shoupe did not get along—They used to, years and years ago when Josie was still a little girl with toothy grin and pigtails and Miranda Shoupe was more than just a vague memory of a woman leaving. Now they could not be more different. Josephine sometimes wondered where exactly they went wrong—if she had lost her father the same day her mother had turned her back on them or if her father had lost her the day John B Routledge and JJ Maybank had tripped their way straight into her life and heart. No matter when, no matter if it was a slow process or happened over night, it was too late to turn back now. Screaming matches, threats and lies that could not be taken back had brough them further away from each other until the only thing that connected to them was blood and the same last name.

"Why? What is he mad about now?", John B scoffed, raising one eyebrow in anticipation.

Josie shrugged, "I think it was because someone—and I'm not gonna say that it was JJ but it sure as hell sounds like JJ, made fun of him at work yesterday."

John B chuckled slightly, glancing over to where JJ was actively flirting with a touron that had gotten lost at their kegger, "That sure sounds like him."

"You know," John B continued, putting one arm around her shoulder, "I'm always here for you, right? You can always come to the Chateau if the big sheriff gets a bit too much to deal with." Or your head, he wanted to say but found his throat closing up on him. He had already lost his father, he couldn't bear to even imagine losing his little sister too—so instead he ignored the obvious and pretended like she was still little, old Josephine Shoupe.

"I love you," she muttered in response, laughing as she spotted John B's flirt of the night heading their way, obviously intoxicated, "Now get your girl for the night before she has my head for flirting with her man.", she chuckled, slightly nudging him in the direction of the touron.

John B groaned but stood up nevertheless, squeezing her shoulder one last time. Josie watched with a sense of grief as John B took the girl by the arm, JJ snogged with his touron for the evening and Kie and Pope were both deep in conversation with their own people. Josie pushed one of her hands into the pocket of her pants with a sigh—like muscle memory she fished for the little plastic bags with pills, all fresh and new from the morning. Pushing them into the palm of her hand with delicate fingers, carefully weighing them in.

That morning when she had knocked at Miles's door—the only one brave enough to sell drugs to the sheriff's daughter—his immediate reaction was to frown, You know satisfied customer, good customer but this is the fifth time this week that you're here, Jojo, you sure you're okay? he had asked, one eyebrow raised in true Miles March style.

Josie had met Miles about a year ago, three months before John B's dad had went missing and things officially went to shit. Over the twelve months the two had spend a lot of time together, getting high, cuddling, caring for each other—still, Josie had made it a great deal to keep him as far away from her friends as possible.

Of course I am, she had replied, the words rolling off her tongue easily but Miles didn't seem convinced, I've seen you high off your ass, Jojo, you are not okay and if this is getting out of hand, I am going to pay your friends a visit from one concerned friend. To see him so worked up over a issue that was soley hers felt almost menacing, like he was intruding into a life that was not his to invade but Josie knew he meant no harm, if anything he was looking out for someone along the lines of a friend—she kept persistent still and left immediately after she got the little plastic bag.

Josephine Shoupe, and she knew that much, was not one to get good grades, go to bed at ten and stay clean. She liked to believe she was—She liked to believe she was some kind of heaven sent angel who could do no wrong if only just to please her father but the Josie she had grown to be was far off from that—and so she caved in and knocked four pills at once back.

The hours after that went by in a blur and by the time Josie came to her senses, she was tangled up in her bedsheets at her home, sweaty body sticking to a naked sleeping Pogue, she recognised from school. Josie groaned as the full force of last night hit her like a brick, her head pounding and bile rising in her throat, "Oh fuck"

The Pogue—Amanda Witich, the Cut's newest edition—woke up with a groan, "What time is it?", she rasped, opening one eye to look at Josie.

"Almost noon", Josie muttered. She was vaguely aware of her father's footsteps walking down the hall, humming some country song that she never heard before—It was his day off, his first in many, many weeks and Josie felt her stomach churned at the mere idea of spending the entire day in the same house as him.

Amanda hummed in response and sat up, awkwardly searching the room for her clothes, "I'll think I'll head out then. Can I leave through the front door or should I use the easy way out?", she asked, tilting her head towards the open window.

Josie thought about it for a moment, groaning as her headache only got more prominent. Her father was usually gone or fast asleep during moments like this but then, he was no idiot and probably very aware of what his daughter was up to every night, "Just use the front door, I don't give a fuck.", she muttered exhausted. Her head hit the pillow again and she turned away from Amanda, eyes already closed again and half asleep. She didn't care, truly, she wasn't meant for long term relationships anyway. She fell asleep before Amanda had even left.

When Josie woke up next the sun was long gone, there was a persistent knock on her door and a warm body cuddled against her—Josie didn't need to turn around to know it was JJ. His touch always felt different, their bodies melting against each other like being close was the only thing that made sense to them.

"Josephine", her father's voice came through the door as he fumbled with the handle. He opened the door slightly, just enough for his voice to travel clearly through and to flood the corner of her room with the bright light coming from the hallway, "If you're home, the station called, they need me. I'm leaving now. There's some left over lasagna in the fridge if you're hungry.", he waited for a moment but Josie stayed silent and so with a last frustrated sigh he closed the door again, his footsteps quickly leaving.

Josie could feel the familiar tug at her heart whenever her father spoke to her but before she could let herself break, JJ had already pulled her even further against him, pressing a tender kiss to her head, "Sleep.", he whispered.

Her heart softened ever so slightly at his tired voice. JJ's here, she reminded herself, He'll keep the bad thoughts away. But could he really?

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #obx fic #obx x reader #outer banks x reader #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #victor shoupe #deputy shoupe #obx fanfic #john b x reader #john b routledge #pope heyward #kiara carrera #netflix

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punk4ndisorderly · 11 months

Text

light on

The one where Y/N is the daughter of a legendary Team USA coach and used to attend the development program with the boys. 8 years after they last saw each other in person, a reunion brings Jack and Y/N back into each other’s lives... and hearts.

if you keep the light on, i'll keep the light on

IX X - where lines overlap XI

Y/N shook the her colleague's hand, excusing herself and leaving the room hand-in-hand with Joey, walking through the clinic’s waiting room, heading towards the exit.

“Y/N?” a familiar voice spoke close by, startling the pair.

She stopped dead on her tracks, completely caught off-guard.

“Jack? Hi!”

The doctor saw him get up, coming to greet her with a peck on the cheek. She couldn’t help but notice that he smelled heavenly.

It took him a little while to register Joey's presence, as she stood behind her mother’s legs, keeping a tight grip on the hand that held hers. As soon as he did see her, he crouched down so he could meet her gaze. The resemblance to Y/N was uncanny, her eyes as wide, glowing with curiosity and wonder as the eyes of the fiery teenager he had known all those years ago once did.

“Hey, kiddo.” he smiled tenderly.

Y/N mimicked his pose, turning to the tiny version of herself.

“Jo, say hi! This is Jack, mommy's friend from school… You don’t have to get all shy…” she cooed, never letting go of her daughter’s hand.

“Hi Jack. I’m Josephine. I’m five.” She mustered up the courage to say, holding up five fingers of one of her tiny hands.

“You have a beautiful name, Josephine. I’m twenty-eight… I don’t have enough fingers for that though, do I?” he chuckled, making the little girl laugh in response.

While observing their interaction attentively, Y/N thought about how endearing Jack looked as he spoke to her child. She kept to herself that she used to watch his games while she fed Joey when she was a baby. Every other day the two of them sat on the couch and saw him soar across the ice. Maybe it would come up in conversation one day.

“Hey, I’m here too!” Luke stood up from his seat, letting his presence be known.

“Luke Hughes! I haven’t seen you in ages!” the doctor grinned, standing up and reaching out to hug her friend’s little brother, while Joey and Jack remained in their own little world, discussing his favorite color. “We’ve still got the whole if we’re both still single when you’re forty we’ll get together deal going on, right?”

“Would I ever bail out on you?” she chuckled, pinching his cheek.

“Didn’t think so, darling!” Luke smiled back, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

Jack ignored the slight pang of jealousy he felt when he was reminded of the understanding Luke had reached with Y/N back when they were practice linemates. His brother was fourteen at the time and had a huge crush on her, which she found extremely cute, so she jokingly took him up on his offer. What Jack couldn’t predict would be that his dorky little brother would turn out to be so good looking and have much more charm than him.

He cleared his throat, returning to his full height as Joey rushed to her mother’s side, making Luke smirk and remove his arm from where it rested.

Looking him up and down, eyebrow raised, her eyes landed in his right hand, wrapped up in gauze.

“What’s with that, Rowdy?” Y/N pointed to his injured limb.

“That? Bar fight.” Luke shrugged. “A big, scary dude was harassing this very nice girl and Jacko asked him nicely to leave her alone. The man threw the first punch so, naturally, my boy defended himself and took a swing at him. Out of nowhere, this gigantic Yeti-looking fella appears and smashes a beer bottle on the counter, moving in to stab my big brother, who tried prying it out of his hands. They struggled for a bit, but eventually Jack got the bottle and a pretty nasty wound with it. Five stitches, boom!”

Jack covered his face with his left hand, shaking his head.

“Oh. Sounds dangerous.” Y/N teased condescendingly, patting his back.

“It was, but you know Jacky, he handled it.” the younger man assured her, backing away from the pair.

“Of course he did.” she winked, turning her attention back to her very own knight in shining armor. “How’s the healing going?” “I’m getting the stitches removed now, but I think this one is going to leave a mark.” the Devils' player smiled, lifting his hand up.

“Well, think of the number of women you’ll pick up with the bar fight story…” Y/N snickered.

“Luke's imagination is… Fertile. I’m sorry about all the bull -” he stopped himself when he saw Joey's curious eyes looking up at him. “- crap he tried to feed you. What really happened wasn’t even remotely that exciting.”

Her eyes were trained on him, glistening with sheer amusement, his fumbling oddly endearing to watch.

“I figured as much… I think it’s cute how he’s got your back with the manly, chivalrous story. I’d love to hear all about the real version of events one day. I’ve got to go now, though. I’m dropping this little one off at her dad’s for the weekend before heading ti the hospital. I’m pretty late already, so…”

“Yeah, of course, go.” Jack stuttered, giving her a quick hug goodbye. “It was nice to see you again so soon.”

“Don’t be a stranger.” his friend asked, a hint of a grin on the corner of her lips, walking away, hand-in-hand with her doppelgänger.

The brunette man watched her leave with a slight twinge of unexpected sadness, not even realizing he had zoned out until his cousin started making kissing noises beside him.

“Oh, Jack, don’t be a stranger!” Luke taunted, pouting his lips at him, earning himself a slap in the back of the head. “Ow! Are you going to call her or am I going to have to intervene?”

“God, Moose, I still have no idea if I actually feel something for Y/N or if it’s all just me trying to get Stevie out of my system. I can’t ask her out on a date!”

“It’s not a date, you presumptuous bastard, it’s just two old friends hanging out. How are you supposed to know if you like her like that or not if you two don’t interact face-to-face?”

“I…”

“Either you call her or I’ll make my move. She’s even more beautiful now…” the younger man trailed off, smirking at the reaction he got from his cousin.

“You’re the spawn of the devil.” the forward mumbled under his breath.

“Yeah, but you’ll thank me later.”

“Don’t hold your breath, little brother. Stay here and wait for my name to be called up, I’ve got to go outside.”

“Aye, aye captain!” Luke extolled, giving him a salute.

Jack rolled his eyes jokingly, exiting the clinic and going through his phone, looking up her number.

It’s all or nothing, Hughes.

The call went straight to voicemail, ending with Y/N's sweet chuckle at something that sounded like a baby’s voice in the background. The brunette man took a deep breath, trying to make the message sound as casual as possible. He surely didn’t want to seem desperate.

“Hi. It’s Jack. Jack Hughes. You probably know that by now because I’m the only person in the world who can be this awkward on the phone. Anyway, I know we just saw each other, but I’d like to hand out soon, we haven’t had an impromptu hangout in a while… Text me or give me a call if you want to go out for lunch sometime. I promise I’ll tell you all about my badass scar. So… Mmm… Yeah… Let me know if you’re up for it. Stay sweet, parakeet!”

Stay sweet, parakeet? What the fuck, Jack? What is wrong with you?

Jack cringed inwardly, ultimately deciding perhaps that was the best he was going to get. He really was awkward.

The screeching of the chairs being dragged back against the floor as she gave her interns permission to leave and do their rounds, making her scrunch up her nose, her eyes closing for a second.

“Don’t forget to do neurological assessments!” she called out, hoping the younger doctors were still listening as they walked out the door.

Life as a doctor, especially at a teaching hospital, wasn’t easy, but she would never take her job for granted and she was so happy she was able to do something she loved for a living.

Returning to the lockeroom after a long afternoon of classes, she turned her phone back on, opening her assigned locker and placing her white coat and scrubs inside. Her mobile phone rang twice, letting her know she had one missed call and one new voice message.

Y/N took one last look at her bag to make sure she wasn’t taking anything more than she needed to home and closed the tiny metal door, turning her key to lock it, forgetting completely about the notifications on her phone until she got home, showered, ate and called her ex-husband, wanting to say good night to her daughter.

“Okay, baby, sleep tight. Mommy loves you.” the young woman cooed, hanging up only to be reminded of the unanswered call and unopened voicemail on her phone.

Hi. It’s Jack. Jack Hughes. You probably know that by now because I’m the only person in the world who can be this awkward on the phone. Anyway, I know we just saw each other, but I’d like to hand out soon, we haven’t had an impromptu hangout in a while … Text me or give me a call if you want to go out for lunch sometime. I promise I’ll tell you all about my badass scar. So… Mmm… Yeah… Let me know if you’re up for it. Stay sweet, parakeet!

She almost fell off her bed, snorting at her old friend’s choice of words. Only Jack could say those kinds of corny things and get away with it. He sounded slightly nervous and impossibly cute.

The doctor returned the call, waiting for him to pick up as she turned another page of the novel she had been trying to finish for months. In her prime she would’ve read it in two days, but raising a child mainly alone and long, exhausting hours at the hospital had kept her away from five-hundred-page-books and into the path of terrible reality tv shows that lasted 30 minutes max.

“Hello?” she heard someone say from the other end. Not someone, him.

His voice was raspy, as if he had been sleeping for hours. A wave of regret and pity washed over her. Poor Jack, startled by his phone at – she looked at her bedside table, where her alarm clock rested – nine-thirty?

“Did I wake you up?”

“Hmm… Kind of.” Jack chuckled, closing his laptop and placing it on his coffee table.

“Dude, it’s nine-thirty.”

“I was reading through a contract my agent sent me and ended up snoozing.” he admitted, sighing.

“That boring?”

“Unbelievably so. What’s up?”

“I was calling about the message you left me…” she said, biting down softly on her bottom lip.

The hockey player sat up straight on his couch, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“We should definitely go out for lunch or something. When are you free?” Y/N inquired, leaning back against her headboard, playing with some loose strands of her hair.

“Tomorrow?” he offered.

“You’re in luck, tomorrow works for me. Day off. Perks of running the unit I guess.” the doctor explained, a small smile playing on her lips. “Let me know the time and place.”

Wow. I was not hoping for this to go this smoothly. Maybe she doesn’t think I’m a total weirdo and the voicemail wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, he thought to himself, stunned by the turn of events.

“Yeah. Okay. I will.” Jack managed to stammer out, thanking the saints she hadn’t decided to do a videocall and therefore couldn’t see the blush that had crept onto his cheeks. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“See you later, alligator.” she giggled, hearing a loud groan coming from the other side of the line. “Night, Rowdy.”

“Hello, is it me you’re looking for?” he sang purposefully out of key from behind her, squeezing her shoulders gently with his large hands.

“Hey there, Lionel!” Y/N smiled, dazzling him with her breathtaking award-winning smile. “I was starting to think you had stood me up.”

“Never.” the brunette man countered, placing a hand on the small of her back. “I’m sorry, traffic was terrible and I couldn’t find a parking space within three blocks from here.”

“You had to walk here?” she gasped, pretending to be outraged. “Sounds very down-to-earth of you, superstar.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jack rolled his eyes, faking annoyance while placing his hand on the small of her back. “Come with me, you dork. I’ve made a reservation for my favorite table up here.”

The amazing view over downtown New York from the rooftop of the building rendered Y/N speechless.

He gazed at her attentively, eagerly trying to catch any micro expressions that would give him any clue of what she was feeling as he guided her to their table.

“How the hell did I not know about this place?” she uttered, still completely baffled over the beauty of this little nook. “Well done, Gretz!”

“The Garden is great, hu?” the hockey player smirked. “I came here for the first time a few years ago with Trevor, actually. That was a weird day.”

Y/N twisted her lips into an amused grin, placing her index finger over them.

“Let me guess… They totally thought you guys were a couple.”

“They totally thought we were a couple.”

“Nice!”

“We would make a good-looking pair if that was the case.”

“Undoubtedly. Although I do think Trevor's suitors aren't big fans of sharing…”

“Probably risky to try and find out.” he chuckled. “The second time I came here I was with…”

“Stevie.” Y/N completed his sentence, making them both go silent for a few seconds. “I know you had to work with her two weeks ago… Do you want to talk about it?”

“I did promise to tell you the story behind the five stitches…” Jack sighed, seeing one of the waitresses walk by and waving to ask her to bring them the menu. “But first… Food.”

They both went through the long list of dishes, making their respective orders once they were satisfied with their perusing of it.

“So… The wound…” the doctor prompted, eyeing him carefully.

“The wound… Well… Stevie came onto me in her dressing room and for a moment I let myself go… But then I realized that what we were doing was wrong so I stopped her. She was pissed off and started saying you and I had something going on, that she should’ve seen it coming. When she left I kind of punched a mirror and… Well… Got this baby to show for it.”

“She still has feelings for you, you know?” she pointed out, after giving it a bit of thought.

“She might.”

“Do you think Stevie would freak out about the slightest possibility of us being together if she didn’t? I get that she feels betrayed and mad, you guys just broke up. You should talk to her and set things straight.” Y/N advised, taking a sip of the iced tea the waitress had just left on their table, along with their food.

The way Y/N had just understood and summarize the entire situation without actually having met his ex-girlfriend face-to-face left Jack bewildered. She noticed how confused he looked, reaching for his left hand and grazing her thumb over his knuckles.

“It’s not that hard to figure out, it’s Women 101. Don’t put too much thought into it, just be honest with her and speak from the heart.”

His blue eyes shot up, locking with her big, hopeful ones. The Devils' player couldn’t exactly pinpoint why it was happening, but her touch made goosebumps rise all over his skin.

“I can try…” he spoke quietly.

“You’ll be fine, trust me.” the doctor assured him, a decided look on her face. “Anyway… What on Earth possessed you to eat that?

“You should know this here is an amazing tuna tartar… And it’s delicious.”

“I’d definitely need a tub of ice cream to cleanse my palate after putting tuna tartar in my mouth.” she stated, her face twisted in disgust.

“You haven’t even tried it! Here.” Jack prompted, offering her a spoonful of his food. “Come on.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, taking one small bite, her face immediately revealing what she thought of the delicacy.

“Oh god, no, that’s awful. I’ll stick to normal human food. And you, sir, owe me a tub of ice cream.”

The pair chatted away for three more hours, completely oblivious to their surroundings.

“The sun is setting already.” she remarked, holding her chin up with her fist, her elbow propped up on the arm of the chair as she set her eyes on the spectacular view. “Thank you for inviting me to come here.”

“I thought you might like it…” the brunette man replied, a shy smile making its way onto his face.

Too busy being mesmerized by the glorious sunset unfolding before her, the teacher failed to realize Jack had been admiring her gorgeous semblance. He watched her in awe, much like one would stare at the most beautiful painting in the world, taking in the way the sunlight enveloped her, her peaceful gaze set on the horizon and a small smile decorating her features.

It was so easy to waltz around the line between friendship and something more. To be honest, he’d always danced around it, coming back and forth between the two realities, never taking one step too far, but now he was starting to fear he had reached the point of no return.

“Have you ever thought about where we would be right now if we had never met?” Y/N's voice snapped him out of his trance, making him look in the same direction as her.

Jack shifted in his seat. Entertaining that hypothesis sounded painful.

“Not really. Thinking about what could’ve been isn’t going to change anything, right? For better or for worse, everything that happened in my life lead me to be here, right now, with you. I’m glad it did.”

She turned her head to the side to face him, not saying a word, looking at him in such a tender way it made his heart skip a beat. For a moment, the world was composed of the two of them, no one else.

That is, until a teenage girl with platinum blonde hair marched up to them, clearing her throat softly before speaking up.

“Hi! I’m really sorry to bother you guys, but I’m a huge fan and it’s my last day in New York, so… Would you mind taking a picture with me, please?” she chirped, seemingly starting to shake as soon as Jack's eyes landed on her.

“Hey! Of course, it’s very nice to meet you…” he prompted, waiting for her to say her name.

“Claire.” the teen introduced herself.

“Claire! Beautiful name!” the Devils' player complimented, placing his arm around the petite girl’s shoulders. “Do you want me to take the picture?”

“If you don’t mind, yeah.”

“Sure, that’s what I’m here for.” he smiled, taking her phone from her hand.

Y/N noticed how the girl swooned over the handsome man as he lifted his arm up and took a snap of the duo. The effect he had on women never seemed to simmer down, no matter how many years had passed since he was just a teenage boy with a pretty face.

“Thank you so much!” Claire crowed giddily, accepting her phone back. “I’ll stop being a cockblocker now!”

They both said goodbye to the young girl, waiting until she was out of earshot before breaking into a fit of laughter over the cockblocker comment, Jack sitting back down as the fairy lights hung around the lounge turned on, giving the rooftop a whole new look.

“I think I might just live here from now on.” the doctor whispered while leaning towards him.

“They’ll probably let you do that if you sing for the jazz quartet.”

“There’s a jazz quartet? That’s it, I’m moving in.”

* A loud buzz filled Y/N's ears as her phone rang non-stop on her bedside table. Groaning loudly, she felt up the wooden top, grabbing her mobile device, not even bothering to open her eyes.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, dork!”

“River! Hi! Isn’t it crazy early?” she inquired, her head pounding. “What’s up?”

“We’re going for a run, nerd. Get ready, I’ll be there in ten.” her older brother informed her.

The singer took a look at the alarm clock on her nightstand, her eyes opening and immediately widening as she did.

“Jesus, River, it’s six-thirty in the morning!”

“The sun is up and shining bright. Your ass better not still be in bed when I get to your house, or else…” River warned sternly.

“Why did I ever think it’d be a good idea to give you my address and my keys?”

“I’m good during emergencies.”

“You’re not even here most of the time… Traveling with your fancy engineer boyfriend!” Y/N reasoned, pushing the covers off her body.

“Don’t sass me, young lady! I’m taking you out to do some exercise. It’s good for you! Let’s go!”

“Alright, alright… Jeez.”

Getting geared up for jogging, she tied her hair in a ponytail with a pink scrunchie, drinking a cup of black coffee and eating an apple before hearing her brother honk outside.

“What’s up with the frown, Grumpy?” River teased, poking her cheek when she entered the red convertible.

“I should be lying face down on my king-size bed, but instead I’m in a car headed for a run with an overly-cheerful morning person. What do you think?” she grunted, using her sunglasses to cover her tired eyes.

“You stayed out late last night, didn’t you?” he smirked, his attention not leaving the road ahead of them.

“No!”

“You so did! You know I can see through you like cellophane, don’t lie to me!”

“Okay… I did…” Y/N confessed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh, did Y/N Y/L/B go on a date? Who is he?”

“It was not a date!”

“Who is he?”

“Jack…”

“I knew it! I’ve got to call Trevor, I’m getting dinner on him!”

“We just went out for a late lunch and ended up talking for hours… Don’t make it to be something it’s not.” the younger sibling pleaded, reaching out and turning the radio on.

“Right… Yeah… I’ll quit hammering you about it… For now…”

“What are you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Boston right now? Did David come with you?”

“Oh no, he stayed. It’s just me.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Obviously, but I had to come back earlier to get some things done and he couldn’t come with me so…”

“Okay, but you still haven’t elaborated on what those things are…”

“You’ll see. Now sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who’s sitting in a car with a person who drives like a maniac.

The two siblings sang along to the songs that came on, forgetting about Jack, David and everything their names implied. Finally, after an hour and a half car ride, River parked under a tall tree, exiting his vehicle.

“Are you coming?” she asked, resting her perfectly manicured hands on her hips.

“Did you really just drive to Newcomb to go for a run?”

“I like it here, it’s secluded, quiet, beautiful…” the eldest sibling shrugged, starting to stretch.

Y/N shook her head, mimicking her brother and climbing out of the cherry red mustang, starting her warm-up.

“Water?”

“In the trunk.”

The doctor picked up two canteens and followed River into the small gated community. It was customary for the properties around the river to belong to very rich people, having been passed down from generation to generation, who were now converting them into luxury camping sites, prepared for a glammed-up version of setting a tent and freezing or sweating to death.

“So, are we running or what?” she challenged, a glint in her eye.

“Oh, it’s so on, sister.”

* River and Y/N ran alongside each other on a dirt-road path for about forty-five minutes, before the eldest Y/L/N sped up his pace and disappeared into the middle of the trees before them.

“Hey! Wait up!” the doctor called out, panting and trailing after her brother.

I really need to get back into doing exercise on a daily basis, this is killing me.

She ran in the direction she had seen River go in not long before her, only to find herself near a pond, surrounded by gigantic pine trees. Several mountain streams could be heard from afar, setting quite a picturesque view with a forest backdrop.

Her mouth dropped open at the sight of a log trellis covered with hanging vines and a beautiful gazebo.

“Where the hell are we?” Y/N asked, completely bewitched by the beauty of the site.

“This -” River began. “ – is Hidden Creek.”

“Is that a dance floor?” the doctor inquired, looking behind her friend.

“Y/N, focus, nerd.”

“Sorry.”

“Remember when we used to binge watch that terrible teen show when we were kids and one of the girls told the other that love meant giving chances when there were no more chances left to give?” River asked, leaning against one of the logs, a small grin on his face.

“Yeah, vaguely… Why?”

Y/N sat down next to her brother, drinking from her canteen and wondering where the conversation was headed.

“We watched that episode again a few months before I asked David out… I was all heartbroken and pledging celibacy for life and that night you texted me this.” he paused, handing his sister his phone, opened on their text chain, a message that appeared as saved, from four years before.

Don’t give up on love and what it had to offer you… I know you’ve been let down and hurt before, but I am absolutely sure you’ll find someone who will make you feel so much love you’ll be scared your heart might burst. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll wonder about who you were before that feeling came and knocked the air out of you… It’ll be so worth it. Wait and watch it unfold.

The doctor nudged her brother gently, smiling. “I remember that part…”

“You were right. I waited. I struggled, but I did it: I found love. It’s David. I wanted to let you know that I’ll always be thankful for this text. Especially now. Your words helped me find the strength to carry on hoping my prince charming was out there.”

Y/N reached out to wipe a couple of tears that had managed to escape the older sibling's eyes, leading him to straighten up and recompose himself in seconds.

“Tell me, what do you think about this place?”

“I am in love with it. It’s like walking into a fairytale.”

“I’m glad you do, because I booked it for two weeks from now.”

The doctor knitted her brows together, not understanding what he meant.

“Are you having a party? Riv, no one’s going to drive an hour and a half and do a forty-five-minute run to come here for a party, big bro…"

“Well, they better… It’s my wedding, after all.”

“What?”

“I’m getting married!”

I have no idea if there is a luxury glamping community in Newcomb NY, but I'm once again taking the ~ artistic liberty ~ and running with it. also, surprise, you, Y/N, have an older brother named River!

#y/n x jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes #cole caufield #team usa #hockey boys #hockey #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #quinn hughes #luke hughes #fanfiction #blurb

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lulubelle814 · 10 days

Text

In Every Life - Part 1

Summary: Two souls destined for each other, but life has other plans. Will they find each other and have their happy ending?

It was late September of 1883 when they met. Some would call it kismet. Others destiny. The miserable ones would call it coincidence. He needed to go into London for a few weeks to work on some business prospects and handle some estate matters with his lawyer. Lucille stayed back as she did not care to leave home but was not happy to be without her brother for so long.

Josephine and her mother were on their way to the hospital when she had a sudden dizzy spell, causing her to fall to the street but found herself saved by a beautiful stranger, rescuing her from being hit by a carriage riding too close to the sidewalk.

"Are you alright?" her mother inquired.

"I'm alright mother, thanks to this kind gentleman." She was shy and blushing, unbelieving that she made a fool of herself in front of this handsome man.

Her mother looked at him, thanking him profusely. "You may have saved her life, mister…."

"Sharpe, Thomas Sharpe, baronet, madame."

"Thank you so very much, Lord Sharpe. I am Victoria Morrow, and this is my daughter, Josephine. How can I ever repay you?"

His words failed him as he locked eyes with Josephine. In that moment, he felt as if there was something linking his heart to hers. His heart, nay his soul, screamed to not let this beguiling creature to depart from him.

Unbeknownst to him, Josephine was similarly affected.

He responded to her mother without looking away from Josephine. "There is no need, madame. I am more than happy to assist." Josephine smiled at him causing his heart to skip with joy. "If it is not too forward, might you be available for dinner this evening Ms. Josephine?" He held his breath, praying she would accept his offer.

The way her name rolled off his tongue could soothe an angry lion, and she would do anything to hear him say it again. Looking at her mother for approval before answering, she said, "I would love that." They let him know where they were staying, advising he would pick her up at 7 pm.

***********************************************************************

That evening, he arrived promptly on time, having arranged a carriage to drive them to a nice restaurant he knew nearby. His breath escaped him as she descended the stairs, thinking her to be an angel descended from the heavens in a beautiful dark blue dress. “You look breathtaking.”

Josephine found her heart beating so loud thinking he must be able to hear it. Blushing, she reminded herself to breathe before taking his arm. “Thank you Lord Sharpe.”

“Thomas, please.” He wanted nothing more than to run away with her to some far off place or at least back to his home.

She nodded. “Thomas. You look very dapper yourself.”

She scolded herself. ‘Dapper? That’s the best you can come up with?’

“Shall we?” He held out his arm which she took. He aimed towards the door, and she followed him, a willing captive. When entering the carriage, it took all his strength to tell the driver to take them to the restaurant rather than what his head and heart were telling him.

At dinner, they exchanged stories. He told her the joke about why his estate is called Crimson Peak.

"That sounds extraordinary."

"It is fascinating but sometimes also a bit macabre when someone walks around and leaves what looks like bloody footprints."

"That must be a sight to behold. Oh how I wish I could see that." She froze. She had not meant to be so bold and admit that last part, but he simply smiled and said, "I would love for you to see it. You are most welcome to come observe the sight any time you wish."

She felt a bit relieved. They continued to talk and walked leisurely back to her hotel as they did not want the night to end.

"I would very much like to see you again tomorrow, if that is alright?" He didn't want to let her go, yearning to whisk her back to Allerdale as his.

"I would like that as well. My mother and I have an appointment, but we should be back by 1."

"1 o'clock it is. I look forward to it." He smiled, taking her hand in his and placed a kiss across her knuckles before departing.

Arriving at her room, she found her mother was pulling out the metallic syringe and an opaque bottle of liquid. "Did you have fun?"

She smiled and nodded. "He's wonderful and incredibly kind. He has asked to see me again tomorrow when we get back.”

"I see no problem with that at all, my dearest daughter, but it’s time for your medicine."

Josephine was not a fan of needles, but her mother insisted it would help with her deteriorating health.

***********************************************************************

When she awoke the next day, the front desk brought flowers that had been delivered early that morning.

My Dearest Josephine,

These flowers pale in comparison to your beauty. I very much look forward to seeing you again today.

Sir Thomas Sharpe

She placed them by her bedside, smiling like a loon. Her left hand began to shake and held it with her right to help control the tremors.

The visit at the hospital took longer than anticipated as they wanted to run a few tests to get a diagnosis as they felt they were close. By the time they arrived back at their hotel, it was half past 1.

Thomas waited patiently in the lobby. He had not been to the hospital much but knew appointments of any nature could run longer than expected. When she arrived flustered, he tried to give an air of calm and understanding.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's quite alright. No need to explain. If you need to take a moment to freshen up, I am happy to wait."

Josephine appreciated his offer and went up to her room to fix herself quickly and was back down ten minutes later. She was sure to wear a dress with a larger skirt to help hide the tremors in her legs that were becoming more frequent.

He took her to a shop that prepared a picnic basket for them which they took to a nearby park. He laid everything out on the blanket, and they spent the afternoon enjoying each other's company, talking about various things such as nature, science, hopes, dreams. Before they knew it, evening fell upon them, the picnic food gone hours before.

"Would you like me to escort you back to your hotel?"

She felt a pang of disappointment, not wanting to leave just yet. As if he could read her mind, "or, perhaps, we could get some dinner?"

Thomas wasn't ready to take her back but feared she might be tired of him. He hoped she might accept his second offer, his heart almost refusing to beat.

"Dinner sounds delightful."

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief, his heart relieved. As she went to stand up, the tremors began again, causing her to lose her footing; however, Thomas caught her before she fell to the ground. She tried to brush it off. “I’m so sorry. My legs must have fallen asleep.” She smiled. “Not to worry. I’ll help you to the restaurant. It’s nearby.” She took his arm, using it to steady herself, trying her best to ignore the looming headache.

They continued to enjoy one another's company through dinner and dessert, not realizing the late hour while looking at the stars in the park until they arrived back at her hotel to her frantic mother who calmed the moment she saw her daughter was with Sir Thomas.

"Thank you so much for escorting my daughter. It appears she had a lovely time." This caused Josephine to blush profusely.

"My apologies for keeping her so late. I do so much enjoy spending time with her." He couldn't help but shyly smile as he spoke. “If your mother permits, I would love to see you again.”

“That would be lovely,” she said, trying to hide the pain from her headache that seemed to only be getting worse.

“Would tomorrow be too soon?” He was hopeful she’d agree. It was too soon, but if he could, he would see her every day; however, he did not want to scare her, unsure if she felt the same. Little did he know, she did. As much as she loved her mother, she wanted adventures with him. She’d run off with him at that very moment if she weren’t worried about leaving her mother alone. Maybe he’d allow her to come with them? Or would he disappear when learning of her declining health? ‘No, Josephine. You mustn’t let your heart get ahead of your mind. Perhaps he merely wants company while he is in town.’

Taking her hand, he turned it, kissing her palm and felt her hand shaking a bit but brushed it off, believing she was likely as nervous as he.

Arriving back to her room, her mother was ready to give the next dose of medicine. “Do we have to, mother? How many more of these treatments must I endure?”

Her mother approached with caution. “It is only for your benefit. Do you not wish to be well?”

She sighed in defeat. “Yes, mother. It’s just that the treatments have become more difficult to handle. I just want to be well and hope the doctors here can find a solution.”

“I am sure they will, but in the meantime, you need to continue this course of treatment. The doctors have not been opposed to it, and I feel it has slowed down at the least. I am truly sorry for how difficult this has been for you, but it’s not any easier watching you be forced to endure. You are a strong, capable woman. As your mother, I only want to see you succeed.”

Josephine relented and allowed her mother to administer the needle treatment.

“I must also say this. Sir Thomas seems like a capable young man, but I am not sure he is right for you. I fear he may take advantage of you due to your health. I do not believe I can abide his visits much longer. I want to see you happy, but I also want you to be safe.” She put the needle away with the future treatments, placing them in the drawer of her nightstand.

She rubbed her arm at the injection site, momentarily forgetting her headache. “I know, mother, but there is just something about him that I cannot explain. I feel connected to him on a spiritual level, and if he were to propose tomorrow, I would say yes, but….”

Sitting on her bed, her mother looked nervous. “But what, Josephine?”

“But I fear leaving you alone. Father passed so long ago, and I do not want you to feel as if I am attempting to abandon you, but I feel I must follow my heart. I am hoping, perhaps, that if he does propose, that you may come to live with us. I know. I’m getting ahead of myself. Just wishful thinking.”

Her mother moved over next to her, holding her from the side. “Darling daughter. I am in awe of your desire to see me happy, and I feel the same for you. I just………..want you to be safe. The thought of you running off with that man scares me. There is just something about his countenance I cannot trust. I mean, what do we really know about him?”

She knew her mother was right. She was always right, but something in the back of her mind said her mother was wrong about this.

***********************************************************************

As he walked back to his hotel, he could not stop thinking about the feel of her hand, the honeysuckle smell drifting off her hair. He knew what needed to be done. Once back in his room, he pulled out a pen and parchment.

My Dearest Sister,

Please forgive my neglect of you. I have been so thoroughly occupied of late, and have so very much to tell you. Foremost, that I send you my love and sincerest well wishes for you in my absence. All is well here, I have been meeting with Mr. Westridge regarding the estate. He has been kind enough to assist in clarifying the terms of the paperwork so we have nearly concluded our business; however, I must confess that, while I do miss you, I am not eager to return home just yet.

I have had the absolute pleasure of meeting a most outstanding lady. Her name is Josephine. She is here in town with her mother. With her mother’s permission, I escorted her to dinner. She is such a remarkable woman. She gazes fondly at the stars as if they were her dearest friends. I showed her the constellations of Perseus and Andromeda, telling her their tale. Dear sister, I would slay every beast in the world just to stand in her presence.

She adores reading the poets and makes spirited defenses and criticisms of every page she consumes. She listens tirelessly to my myriad mechanical ramblings and discusses my ideas with a curious and open mind. Never has a woman taken such an intellectual interest in my work. I must admit that while her face caught my attention, it was her mind that has kept my interest.

Oh, how I wish you were here to help guide me through this. The very sight of her makes my heart flutter. This strange feeling is beyond my comprehension, yet I do not wish for it to dissipate. What must I do, dear sister? Please, I beg for your guidance in this matter.

Your loving brother,

Thomas

Sealing the letter, he called upon the front desk to have the letter delivered to his sister, eager for a response as he was eager for his sister’s council. They ensured him that short of unexpected, disastrous weather, they would have the letter delivered post haste.

***********************************************************************

While a cold cloth to her forehead helped alleviate her headache, Josephine suffered another night of unrest. Rather than toss and turn, she quietly took out her diary to write, always addressing her entries to her father as it helped her feel close to him even though she never had the opportunity to meet him as he passed shortly after she was born.

Dear Father,

I must tell you of the noble gentleman who came to my rescue yesterday. His name is Sir Thomas Sharpe. I felt faint and began to stumble, but he saved me before I could be injured. Dearest father, he is an angel, both in action and countenance. When our eyes met, I knew in that instant he was my soulmate.

I know you never truly believed in soulmates and love at first sight, but I felt whole for the first time in my life. I thought for so long that the missing piece of my soul occurred when you passed. I realize now that the missing piece was him. The cracks running deep to my core now feel as if they are mending each time we meet.

Father, I know you would approve of him. We share similar interests. He loves to read, star gaze, dance, and invent. Yes! He’s an inventor! His mind creates these extraordinary ideas for machines. His latest idea is for one that would make the harvesting of clay easier and more efficient with less likelihood for injury to the workers. I find myself completely fascinated when he spoke of it

My first hesitation is mother. I do not wish for her to feel abandoned. She seemed amenable to come with me to Thomas’ estate, should he propose. I have only known him for two days, but I would marry him at this very moment should he ask. I do not care if he has money or not. If he does not have an estate then the ground where we lay would become our home and the stars our blanket.

My second hesitation is my health. I have not yet told him of my ailments and am afraid to do so. My fears tell me he will reject me, not wanting an ill spouse, but my soul tells me he will not care.

I know not else how to describe this feeling, but I cannot deny it. Mother reminds me that a lady does not openly express her feelings to a gentleman. I wish you could meet him, see him as I do, but I know you watch over me.

I also fear that I have created this imaginary scene in my mind, that my heart has overruled my mind to the point where I live in fantasy.

I beg of you for your help, courage, and wisdom to know what to do. I miss you so much.

Your loving daughter,

Josephine

Putting her journal away, she climbed back into bed. It was another hour before she was finally able to sleep.

***********************************************************************

The following morning, Thomas readied himself, going by the florist first. Looking for the perfect flowers, he looked for ones that might be worthy of her presence. Once he found them, he paid the proprietor and left swiftly to her hotel and waited for her patiently in the lobby.

Josephine was lost in a fitful slumber, but her mother was awake and ready, knowing Sir Thomas would be arriving shortly. Descending the stairs, she saw him holding the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen.

“Good morning Ms. Morrow! How are you this fine morning?” The joy in his face was evident to any who saw him.

“Good morning, Lord Sharpe! I am well, but I’m afraid Josephine is still resting. Her rest was very troubling last night, which is to be expected.”

“I am so sorry to hear that, but I do hope she is well. Do you know when she might awaken?” He was very eager to see her.

“I could not say, but I do not wish to disturb her as her health has been poor, especially as of late. I will ensure she receives these.”

When she put her hands forward, he hesitated. “I would be happy to wait until she is awake as I would live to give these to her myself. I must confess. I am eager to see her again.” He wanted to see her so much, even if for a moment.

“I cannot say when she may awaken and feel well enough for a visitor, but I assure you I will take these directly upstairs.” Reluctantly, he handed her the bouquet.

“I thank you for doing so. If there is anything I might do to aid in her recovery, please do let me know. I am very……..fond of her.” He could not help but blush.

“You are too kind, Lord Sharpe. We are fond of you as well.” He smiled at her response.

“Please do not hesitate to call upon me should there be anything I can do to assist in her recovery.”

He waited until Ms. Morrow disappeared up the stairs and out of view before taking his leave.

As her mother returned, she found her daughter to be awake and brushing her hair. Turning at the sound of the door, she saw the flowers her mother held. “Those are the loveliest flowers I have ever seen! Where did you find them?”

Her mother walked over to the vase in their room, discarding the old flowers and placing the new ones in there with some water. “A handsome gentleman gave them to me. They are pleasing, are they not?”

“They truly are, and you deserve them. You have been so kind and helpful with my health. It’s the least you deserve. I do hope he calls upon you again.” Josephine turned around and continued to brush her hair. She was feeling exceptionally unwell this morning but did not want to alarm her mother, keeping her thoughts to herself.

As her mother went to place the flowers in a vase with some water, she removed the ribbon from the stems, placing it aside as a keepsake. “I communicated your increasingly poor health to the hospital. They recommended bed rest and valerian tea until your next appointment in 3 days.”

Disappointed, she returned to her bed, already plotting her escape. She could not stand to be cooped up, preferring the fresh air and sunshine, or the stars at night. In the meantime, she placed her head on the pillow, knowing she could use some more rest.

***********************************************************************

That was two days ago. Thomas paced back and forth around his rooms wondering what to do, how he could capture even a glimpse of her. Perhaps he could return back to her hotel in the evening with more flowers? Or would more flowers be too much? Maybe a new pair of gloves?

Then it occurred to him. He knew exactly what she would like, departing for the desired object he had seen just the other day. When he exited his hotel, he looked around to realize it was later than he thought, not having realized he had been pacing around his room for hours.

Holding himself back from running, he reminded himself of social protocol, trying to keep an acceptable pace as there was no emergency. Upon arriving at his desired location, he spoke with the shopkeeper, describing the item he was looking for. The shopkeeper knew exactly what he was describing. “Would you like me to wrap it for you sir?”

Thomas smiled. “I would be most grateful. I am very grateful for your help.” Pausing for a moment, he had another idea. “Might you have a piece of parchment and ink I might use?”

The shopkeeper smiled and retrieved the requested items. “This must be for someone very special.” Thomas smiled back at him. “Yes, for someone very dear and precious.” It took him a few moments, but the words finally came to him.

My Dearest Josephine,

Words fail me to accurately portray the bewildering spell you have cast upon me with your beauty and intellect. I hope this may help convey what I am unable to express. For I am unable to retain a singular thought when simply near you. I yearn to see you. To simply breathe the same air as you is a privilege that not even God himself is worthy.

I pray you can accept this humble token from an unworthy man such as myself.

Yours Always,

Thomas

Gently folding the note, he placed it inside before the shopkeeper who then safely wrapped the item, securing it with twine. Holding it carefully, he departed.

As he neared her hotel, he noticed a woman become unsteady, falling to the ground and hurriedly made his way to assist her.

“Madam, are you alrigh………Josephine?” Her face was contorted in pain. “What is wrong? What can I do?” She could hear his voice off in the distance; however, she was more focused on her prevailing issue as her extremities continued to tremble. Lifting her bridal style, he started towards the hospital.

She turned to look at him. “Thomas?” She sounded weak. “Dear Josephine! Do not worry. I will get you to the hospital posthaste.”

She placed a hand on one of his lapels. “Please no, not the hospital.”

“But you are unwell. You must see a doctor! If nothing else, I should take you back to your hotel to rest. You cannot be out here in your state.”

“I beg you. Please do not take me back, at least not yet. Can we delay a little? Perhaps sit on a bench at the park? I yearn for fresh air and sunshine.”

He could not deny her request, heading for the park nearby as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Gently placing her on the bench, he sat next to her. She held onto his arm. To provide her better support, he wrapped an arm around her, finding her leaning into him. They stayed like that for sometime, receiving odd looks from passersby. Finally, Thomas broke their peaceful quiet.

“Darling Josephine. If I might implore, what is ailing you?”

This was it. She was about to be confronted with her fear of his rejection of her due to her health. “I’m afraid, Thomas.” she turned her face up to look at him.

“What are you afraid of, my dear?”

there was nothing she could do to hide or deny it any longer. “I have been unwell for sometime. Mother thought it best to come to London to see if the doctors might know what is affecting my health. No one has been able to uncover the cause. They’re only able to treat the symptoms.”

Thomas listened attentively as she looked away and continued.

“The doctors here have hope for a diagnosis and solution. In the meantime, mother has been administering medicine to help me, but I fear it might not be working well enough.”

“Why have you not told me of this before?” His worry increased, not wanting her to suffer.

“I’m afraid you might not want to see me anymore. No one wants to be saddled with an ill person.”

Placing his finger under her chin, he guided her face back towards his. “My dearest darling Josephine. Nothing could change how I feel about you.”

She blushed and attempted to bury her face in his chest, but he would not allow her to do so. “If God himself told me I had to choose between you and the heavens, I would dwell happy as a dead man in hellfire for having known you.”

She could not help a tear or two from falling. “Please, Thomas, do not take pity on me. I could not bear it.”

Using the back of his finger, he wiped them away. “Please do not cry. I am not worthy of your tears.”

He brushed some falling hair out of her face, and she leaned her face into his palm as he did so, yearning to stay close to him. A gust of cold wind fell upon them, and she began to shiver. Against society propriety, he removed his coat and placed it around her to help keep her warm. She confided in him her desire to be a dancer. “I’ve always wanted to dance, but my health never allowed it.”

“One day, you will dance. We will dance, even if I have to sweep you off your feet and hold you while I carry you around the dance floor. Come, love. We must get you back to your hotel for some rest.” She agreed but found she was still unable to walk. The tremors were affecting her more and more as time moved on. Seeing her distress, he picked her up bridal style once again and moved towards her hotel. As he carried her, she found herself warming between his coat and their close proximity, allowing his calming scent to envelop her.

They arrived at her hotel moments later, finding her mother running frantically down the stairs. “Where have you been? Are you alright?”

Josephine nodded, looking up at Thomas. “I needed some air and fell, but Thomas rescued me.”

“We need to get you back to bed.” Thomas began towards the stairs but was stopped by her mother. “It is not appropriate for you to be in her room. I can help her back to our rooms.”

He looked back at Josephine, not wanting to leave her in such a state, but Josephine knew once again that her mother was right. He placed her down gently, her mother moving to help support her.

“Thank you again for rescuing me, Thomas.” She gave him a weak smile, her energy still draining and began to remove and return his coat, but he stopped her.

“No, my dear Josephine. Please use it to keep yourself warm. I can come back and retrieve it tomorrow or the day after when you are feeling better.”

He leaned forward to wrap his coat back around her, using the moment to whisper so that only she could hear. “There is something in the pocket for you.”

She looked at him and smiled once more. “Thank you again, Sir Thomas. You have been most kind.”

He stayed and observed to help ensure her and her mother had no problems ascending the stairs, not leaving until well after they were out of sight.

Arriving back at his hotel, he found there was a letter and small package awaiting him. Seeing his sister’s hand writing, he swiftly took the items to his room, eager to read her response.

Darling Brother,

I am beyond delighted to receive your letter. What you describe in your letter is nothing short of love. I have been worried for so long to find someone worthy of your time and attention, to be a partner, a friend, and a confidante.

She sounds to be the most exquisite creature. It warms my heart with how you talk of her. I have never heard you speak of anyone in such a manner, not even your childhood love, Angelica.

From what you’ve told me of her, it appears she feels the same as you. The only guidance I can give you is this. Your heart already knows what to do and will not lead you astray. All you need now is to listen to it.

I have enclosed mother’s ring. While it is ghastly, use it to purchase a ring for my future sister. Go, dear brother, and ask her to be your Andromeda.

Your loving sister,

Lucille

He knew she was right, always providing the truest insight and finest guidance. In all the times he thought he was falling in love, none compared to his affection for Josephine.

Opening the small package, he found their mother’s ring encased in an intricately carved jewelry box. While the box was beautiful, he agreed with his sister that the ring was frightful. Gazing at the ring, he pondered where to go. Placing the ring on the desk, he decided to begin his search for the perfect ring the next day. All night, his mind stirred with ideas of how to ask his dear Josephine to be his Andromeda once a worthy ring was found..

***********************************************************************

Back at her hotel, Josephine placed Thomas’ coat over the back of her chair and bided her time to check the inner pocket until her mother had fallen asleep. As she climbed into bed, her mother brought her nightly remedy. Not wanting to anger her mother, she gripped the bedsheet tightly as the needle was administered in her other arm.

As the needle and bottle were put away, Josephine noticed the flowers again by her mother’s bedside. Whomever sent those must truly be enamored, and it delighted her heart, giving her hope that her mother would finally find someone.

She gently turned over to see her mother gazing at the flowers once more. “Mother? I am so sorry to have worried you like that. It was not my intention to cause any harm.”

Looking back to her daughter, the smile on her face dropped as she prepared the valerian tea. “You know, daughter. I only wish the best for you. The instructions from the doctors are only for your betterment.”

Although crestfallen, she knew her mother was right, as always. “I’m just so tired of doctors and hospitals.”

“I know you are, my daughter. I wish I could make it all go away, but they are necessary. The physicians here seem to have better ideas on how to help you, and we must let them do it.”

She knew there was nothing else to say. Taking the tea from her mother, she drank it without complaint, falling asleep soon after.

***********************************************************************

Waking up to the sound of song birds, Thomas yearned to see his beloved. Taking the time to bathe and dress, he decided to surprise her at her hotel and take her to breakfast. Taking the ring, he placed it in his breast pocket.

Swiftly arriving at her hotel, he inquired with the desk clerk if she was awake. Having one of the staff check, it was only moments before Ms. Morrow arrived downstairs.

“Sir Thomas! How delightful to see you this morning.”

“Ms. Morrow, it is a pleasure to see you. I was hoping to take your daughter to breakfast? If it’s already with you, that is.”

“I’m so sorry, Sir Thomas. She is still slumbering and will not be awake for a while, but I would be delighted to join you. This would be an opportune time to get to know one another. I feel that we may be spending more time together in the near future.”

He smiled, trying to hide his disappointment in not seeing his darling. “That would be most wonderful, Ms. Morrow, and a most excellent idea.”

Taking his arm, she led him out of the hotel. “Please, call me Victoria. I insist.” They arrived at a restaurant just minutes later, being seated without hesitation. They discussed hobbies and interests. He asked questions about Josephine’s upbringing, wanting to know her better.

“To be honest, she was never a well child. Her father passed when she was an infant, and I took the burden of being mother, father, and nursemaid.” She proceeded to tell him how her daughter’s health has been poor since she was little and has steadily declined over the years. “I’ve had to play nursemaid by myself.”

They chatted away a while longer before Thomas escorted her back to her hotel, taking his leave in search of a prize.

Going from store to store, he felt more and more despondent. The staff at each store tried to be helpful, but nothing was good enough for his dear Josephine. Before returning to his rooms for the evening, he tried one last store: Hatton Garden. The gentleman behind the counter introduced himself as Harold. Harold was not much to look at, a short balding man in his fifties, but he had an immense talent for helping people find the perfect piece. He showed him his mother’s ring, hoping he could sell it to purchase a ring fit for a goddess.

“Tell me about your fair lady.” This was his trick, to use how the person felt about their beloved and match it to a ring.

“She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld. Her eyes are blue like the ocean and sparkle like the finest stars in the sky. She loves poetry and astronomy. She is like no other I have ever met before. I want to find something unique and individual that will compliment her beauty and show that she is nothing short of a queen among peasants.”

Harold smiled. Never before had he heard such an elegant description of a fine young lady, and he knew exactly the ring for her. Retrieving it, he placed it delicately on the counter.

This was the ring. THE ring he had been searching for. The smile on his face told Harold he had chosen wisely.

“May I see the one you brought in?” Thomas placed his mother’s old ring on the counter. “Unfortunately this is all I have, but I cannot give her a ring that does not befit her beauty.” Harold picked it up to inspect it. Taking out his jeweler eyepiece, he looked closely at the stone and inspected the silver holding the gem.

“I hope you do not find me impertinent, but this setting does not do justice for such a fine ruby stone.” He looked at it further before placing it back on the counter.

“Not at all. To be honest, I find the ring itself ghastly, but I know it must be worth something.”

While the setting itself was considered junk these days (it was made mostly of cheap aluminum), the stone was worth something; however, the value fell short on the cost of Thomas’ chosen ring. There was something about him he only rarely saw in others who came to him for help and came to a decision. This young lady described sounded not only enchanting but also one of the only women worthy of a ring like this. While the gentleman in front of him would not be able to pay the actual cost of the ring, he wanted to help him.

“I do believe we can come to an agreeable arrangement.” Harold described the value of the stone in the ring brought to him. While he could not use the current setting, he could have a new setting created that would be more appealing and appropriate for the stone. “You came on a most auspicious day, my boy. For today is the only day this particular ring is on a special sale.” He told Thomas that with the sale price of the ring, it would match the amount he would pay for the ring Thomas brought in. “In fact, I would be most glad to exchange the ring you brought to me for this one. It is most fortunate you arrived this evening.”

Thomas was elated, finally having found the perfect ring for his (hopefully) future wife. Harold included a ring box befitting such a ring. To avoid theft, he placed the ring box in his breast pocket where the previous one resided.

“I cannot thank you enough, sir. You have been a tremendous help!” Harold gave him well wishes as he departed.

It was late in the day, perhaps too late to call upon his dear Josephine. Regardless, he walked to her hotel, stopping in front and peering up to what he believed to be her window. He had to stop himself from running inside, up the stairs, and to her room. He didn’t care that her health was poor and would take any time God would grant him, be it years, months, days, or even minutes and would love and take care of her.

Before the constable could be called, Thomas went back to his own hotel and spent hours working on his proposal.

***********************************************************************

The following morning, he was ready. Placing the ring box in his jacket pocket, Tom went to the florist first. He wanted to have the perfect flowers to give her as he proposed. The florist was kind and helped pick the right flowers that would show love and affection and created a one of a kind bouquet of peonies and roses.

“Any girl who would turn you down after giving these flowers is not a girl worth having,” the florist told him.

“She’s worth much, much more than these, but I think she’ll find them adequate.” His smile was big and bright, lighting up the shop. It wasn’t hard to see how hard he had fallen for Josephine. Anyone who looked at him knew he was a man in love.

Now armed with the beautiful bouquet, he made his way to her hotel.

Once arrived, he asked for her at the front desk. “Might Miss Josephine Morrow be available? I do not wish to disturb…….”

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the grim look on the concierge’s face. “Normally, I would not share such private information, but I have seen you and her together. She’d want you to know.”

The smile on his face dropped, his heart racing with fear, the flowers dropping to the floor. “Know what?”

The concierge took a moment to compose himself. “It was very late last night, her mother came running, asking for help to get her daughter to the hospital. I was able to find someone to take her to hospital, but when I saw her? To say she looked poorly would not do it justice.”

Before the gentleman could finish, Thomas was out the door and running to the hospital. He had to see her for himself. If she was that ill, he wanted nothing more than to be by her side. He’d never run so fast before, but it also seemed to take forever to get there. The nurse at the desk confirmed she was there and took him to her room. When he entered, she looked deathly pale. Tremors were happening at random intervals, and it was obvious she was having breathing issues.

“Her mother stepped out a few minutes ago. We urged her to get some rest. You must have just missed her.”

“What is wrong with her? Will she be alright?” She had to be alright. He refused any other outcome.

“Honestly, we don’t know. We cannot figure out the source of her ailment. If we had some idea, we might be able to do something, but I fear it may be too late.”

He was now sitting at her bedside, holding her hand. “She told me her mother had been administering medicine. Has that not helped?”

The nurse looked puzzled. “What medicine? The doctor has been very hesitant to prescribe her anything except to help her rest. If we knew what she was being given…..”

He was out the door before she could finish, knowing he needed to find the medicine her mother was administering. Why had her mother not told them? Would it not benefit to give the doctors all of the information in order to help her daughter?

Arriving back at the hotel, he told the concierge to call the police as he ran up the stairs to her rooms. Rather than knocking, he barged right in. The room was unoccupied. There were no thoughts as to where her mother might be, but he began searching every bag he could find. As he neared the desk Josephine regularly used, her mother entered the room. “I beg your pardon. What do you think you’re doing here? Why are you going through our personal things?”

“Where is it?” he demanded.

“Where is what?” She retorted.

“The medicine you’ve been administering to her? ” He continued to shuffle through papers.

“I have no idea what you are referring to, sir. I demand you leave at once!”

He turned to look at her, fury evident in his eyes. “Your daughter told me you’d been administering medication. The hospital has no record of it. Where is it? What have you been giving her?”

Ms. Morrow was frozen in place, speechless. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the flowers he’d given Ms. Morrow to give her daughter on his behalf. They were not on Josephine’s bedside table. Rather, they were by Ms. Morrow’s. Why were they there?

He moved swiftly to the flowers. “Why are these here? They were for Josephine!” He started searching through the drawer of the nightstand, finding the items he was looking for. He pulled out the needle and a bottle of silver liquid. “What is this? What in heaven’s name have you been giving her?”

“I’m her mother! I take care of her. You have no right to question me. I demand you leave at once!” They were both flustered. Thomas examined the bottle of silver liquid, looking for any sign of a label. It wasn’t until he turned it upside down that he found a partial label that said “....cury”.

“You’ve been injecting her with mercury? Why would you do such a thing?” Ms. Morrow launched herself at him, trying to get the bottle back. He held it above her head to which she responded by slapping him several times. Before she could get in the next blow, police blew in through the door.

He directed the police to arrest her. “She’s been poisoning her daughter. I must get this vial and the needles to the hospital before it’s too late.” While two officers arrested Ms. Morrow, another officer gave him a ride to the hospital. Thomas hoped it wasn’t too late. He couldn’t bear to live without her.

Rushing to her room, he found the doctor there examining his Josephine. “This is what her mother has been administering.” He handed the bottle over to the doctor who examined it, and then sat by Josephine, holding her hand and kissed the back of it.

The doctor turned to his patient. “Is this true, Ms. Josephine?” She let out a breathy ‘yes’, unable to speak much more than that. Even in the short time he’d been at her hotel, she continued to deteriorate.

It didn’t take the doctor more than a moment to recognize the contents: mercury. Now having the missing piece of the puzzle, the doctor turned them. “This explains your symptoms, but I’m afraid they’ve progressed too far.”

“What do you mean, too far?” Thomas was angry.

“If we had known much sooner, the effects could be reversed, but at this point, there’s nothing we can do. She’s not much longer for this world, I’m afraid.”

The tears poured out of him. He gazed into his darling’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so, so sorry.”

She gathered what strength she had left, placing her palm on his face. “It is alright, darling.”

“How is it alright?”

“You’ve given me the greatest gift I’ve ever wanted. You showed me what it is to love and be loved.”

He held her other hand with both of his, tears continuing to fall. “We haven’t had enough time. We need more time!”

“Do not worry, darling. I will always be with you.”

At that moment, he remembered his original intention that morning, and pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket. She may not be long for this world, but he wanted every moment he could get.

“Dearest Josephine, I love you more than life itself. I do not care if it is only for a few minutes or a few days. Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” He opened the box to show her the ring.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could gather. He removed the ring from the box and placed it on her finger. What he had not noticed when he purchased the ring was that the jeweler had placed a matching silver ring under the cushion, a ring for him; however, it fell out of the box, creating a clunking sound as it hit the floor. He picked it up before turning to the doctor. “Is there a parson here? I wish to marry my fiance as swiftly as possible.”

The doctor sent the nurse to find the vicar who had been visiting other patients and brought him to Josephine’s bedside. Thomas expressed his wishes, and Josephine confirmed. Both her engagement ring and the groom’s ring were placed on the open bible held by the vicar.

While they did not have a license, the vicar did not care. He quickly understood the situation and gave them a brief ceremony, marrying them in the eyes of God. At this point, no one in the room cared about the legalities. Within moments, they were married, the rings placed on their respective fingers.

From that moment on, they were not parted. He refused to leave her side for anything, standing vigil day and night, wanting to spend every possible moment with her that she had left. The only thing she asked of him was to hold her. He and the nurse moved her carefully so that he could join her in bed. Giving her a sweet kiss, he held her for the next few hours as she continued to deteriorate.

The doctor came to check on her that night. When he came back the next morning, he let Thomas know that she did not have much longer. He continued to hold her, forgetting all else. In her last moments, she looked at him. “Thomas….”

“Yes, my love?”

“I…..” She had to regain her breath for a moment. He waited patiently for her to continue. “I will always love you.”

He dared to hold her closer. “And I will always love you, in this life and the next.”

“And the next,” she repeated. “I love you.” And with those three words, she took her last breath.

The funeral was small but nice. His sister did not have enough time to be there for her brother at the funeral, but she arrived that night in order to help him pack. At his request, the concierge and staff helped to pack up her belongings so that Thomas may bring them back to Allerdale Hall. While he could no longer bring his wife, he could have some part of her there with him.

As it got deep into winter, Lucille found him up in his attic more and more to the point where he refused to leave. He had his favorite gown of Josephine’s on a mannequin in his workshop so she could watch him work. He’d explain to the mannequin what he was doing and how he was doing it, as if she were truly there with him. The most he would allow from Lucille was a blanket for warmth and the occasional tea.

He’d not been home for a month when he caught a cold. Lucille tried to urge him to take the medicinal tea and treatments to help him recover, but he had lost his will to do anything. Melancholia and grief had such a tight hold on him that he could think of nothing else but his wife and his desire to be with her again.

Lucille returned about 20 minutes later with the medicinal tea and the determination to force her brother to take it and get better. Arriving in the attic, she found he had passed, holding on to Josephine’s dress.

Knowing what he would want, she had his body brought to London and had him buried next to his wife. As there was no proper headstone for Josephine, Lucille had a double headstone fashioned for her brother and his wife, finding it the very least she could do for her dearest brother.

Taglist: @vbecker10

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inquisimer · 12 days

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dragon age fluff fic recs

Part two of my fic rec list series comes bearing the sweetest, most tooth-rotting fluff! It turns out that I....don't actually read a lot of pure fluff, but it was a joy to go spelunking through the tag and all of these pieces made me smile and laugh when I read them.

Check them out! and leave a comment or kudos to let the authors know that you did 💜

Remember to post your fanfic and fanart recs for this week's fan work friday! And if this inspires you to make a fic rec list of your own, tag me in it so that I can read and promote your awesome recs (:

floriography by ritualist

Lace Harding/Josephine Montilyet | G | 3001 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: When the Inquisitor asks how Skyhold is treating her, Harding can't help the smile on her face when she says, "Ambassador Montilyet sent me a basket of flowers." Mer's Rec: This one caught me up in Lace's sweet and fluffy personality from the start, and the author's grasp of Lace's voice and POV was so well done that I never saw the cute little twist coming at the end. The story captures many tiny details of Harding's position as the Inquisition's lead scout and beautifully contrasts her earnestness with Josephine's practiced poise. Their interactions make sense and flow seamlessly as the story progresses; it had me smiling and laughing like a dork the whole way through.

Girls Like Braids by Katuary

Female Cousland & Fergus Cousland | G | 1375 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: Elissa goes to her brother for help fixing the disaster she's wrought of her hair. He insists on hearing how the disaster happened in the first place Mer's Rec: Sibling Bias™️and bisexual panic - what more do I need to say? I'm such a sucker for genfic, and sibling fic in particular melts my heart. The relationship between Elissa and Fergus in this piece is beautifully crafted - from their teasing banter to the fact that Elissa ultimately trusts Fergus to help her when she needs it. The other thing that really struck me is how Katuary wrote Elissa's voice. Even though she's young, and her inner monologue reflects that, she never feels dumb or stupid or naive - she reads authentically as a young child and since I know how difficult that can be to capture in writing, I really loved seeing that portrayal in this story.

Desk by faithlessone

Cassandra Pentaghast/Male Trevelyan | T | 3443 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: The armory is unbearably loud and Cassandra goes off in search of somewhere else to work. Mer's Rec: This is a sweet moment in-between the canon for Cass/Trev and I loved how much is showed them as people beyond their jobs. That's something I often find omitted from stories about Cass, but it was really highlighted here to great success. The author also writes an established relationship incredibly well - the affection between Trevelyan and Cassandra is natural and (without giving too much away), the actions they take in the story feel authentic to a real romantic relationship.

if I had you and I could give you your dreams by calypsid

Hira/Miriam | G | 520 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: Miriam and Hira, at the end of it all. Or, how they kept their promise to each other, once and for always. Mer's Rec: what could have been in Absolution, if Dragon Age wasn't the series of Apostates Who Betray You ;-; This fic gives our cheese-farm gays their happy ending, and it also offers a brief but interesting perspective on the apocalyptic events of DAI from the common farmer they buy the land from! Happiness abounds, Hira and Miriam are just so in love, and we're all pretending the finale of Absolution never happened.

known by name by ophryetrash

Female Inquisitor & Inquisition Scouts | G | 2914 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: The Herald is different, but that's a good thing. Members of the Inquisition interact with her and they feel seen. Mer's Rec: Told from the perspective of the Inquisition's scouts, this is a lovely look at what it's like to be in the rank-and-file of the organization, and how it feels to interact with the people at the head of it all. I loved how the awe and wonder in each interaction grew into feelings of personhood, both for the scouts and about the Inquisitor herself. The banter between the scouts and their personalities makes this story shine and (if you're like me) you'll have a good laugh at the surprise cameo toward the end!

#fic rec #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #dragon age origins #dragon age absolution #dai #dao #josephine montilyet #lace harding #cassandra pentaghast #trevelyan #hira dragon age #miriam dragon age #genfic #long post #y'all don't even know how hard I looked to find fics that were JUST fluff no hurt no hurt/comfort nothing but tooth rotting fluff

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gogogodzilla · 1 year

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Lovers' Quarrel || Cullen Rutherford

Summary: The inquisitor's family betroths them to someone other than Cullen, and on top of that the anchor is spreading.

Note: Some hurt/comfort, light angst, and Cullen being a sweetheart <3 Also, this is an x reader story that will remain as gender-neutral as possible! Set a few months before Trespasser.

{Part 2} {Masterlist}

You were used to the anchor hurting. You were used to the uncomfortable tug that radiated from your palm and moved all the way up to your shoulder every time you closed a rift. But, this was different. This was blinding pain that seared you to your very core.

It began as a slight burning in the center of your palm that happened every time you got stressed or your emotions ran high. It flared when your friends left Skyhold to continue their lives elsewhere. They had their own lives; you understood, but your heart still ached each time you had to say goodbye.

You got good at hiding it. That was until it got so bad it brought you to your knees, clutching your left hand to your chest as the anchor flared for a moment before quieting.

You knew you should tell Cullen, but you didn’t want to worry him. You could handle this. You fought against Corypheus, for Maker's sake.

You slightly shook out your hand before leaning forward to examine the war table. You prayed that a flare-up could wait until after this meeting was over.

“I’ve received a letter from Baron Maxwell Van Serant who will assist us in translating the dragon manuscript for Professor Frederic,” Josephine commented before reaching to move one of the silver pieces off the map.

Your grip on the arm of your chair tightened— a genius addition by Josephine considering how much time you spend here.

You nodded, “Good, do whatever you need to do.”

“Dangerous words, Inquisitor,” Leliana joked, her eyes meeting yours from across the table.

You rolled your eyes, relaxing slightly into your chair, “You know what I meant.”

“I believe we’re finished for the evening, then,” Cullen interrupted.

You rose from your seat, barely holding back a sigh of relief. You waited for Cullen to reach your side before lacing your hands together. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand as you drifted towards the heavy wooden doors of the war room.

“Actually,” Josephine’s polite voice caused you to halt and you turned around, biting back a sigh. “I have one more matter to discuss with you, Inquisitor,” Josephine paused, considering her next words, “It’s somewhat of a sensitive topic.”

You looked up at Cullen for a brief moment before turning your focus back to Josephine, who was flipping through the papers on her clipboard and avoiding your gaze.

“What is it?” You questioned, moving back to your original spot at the table.

Josephine finally found what she was looking for, and she held out a neatly folded piece of paper, “It's from House Trevelyan.”

You took the letter from her and began to skim through it. Your heart began to race.

“It is time to fulfill my duty to this family and unite our house with another… They’ve arranged for my marriage to one,” you paused scanning for the name of the unlucky person your parents betrothed you to, “Marion Jager.”

You were trembling as you set the letter on the table, and Cullen quickly snatched it up, his eyes darting across the page.

“This is ridiculous!” Cullen exclaimed before throwing the letter onto the table. “Th- they can’t just hand you over to someone else,” he was looking between you, Josephine, and Leliana, begging for anyone to provide a solution.

You leaned against the war table, your legs becoming unsteady under you, “They just did.” Bile began to burn in the back of your throat and you forced yourself to take a few deep breaths.

“We have to do something,” Cullen insisted, laying a hand gently on your lower back, “I won’t let them take you from me.”

The familiar burning sensation came back to your palm, and you straightened. You didn’t need Cullen to see you like this. Not yet.

“Thank you for telling me, Josephine. I’ll handle it from here,” the letter crinkled from how tightly you were holding it, and you turned on your heel and left the war room. Cullen called after you, but you ignored him; pain was radiating up your forearm and it’d be just moments before the mark would flare.

You focused all of your energy on climbing the stairs to your quarters, taking them two at a time. You burst through the door of your quarters and made a beeline for your desk. You pressed your hands firmly into the wooden surface, and squeezed your eyes shut.

Stupid family. Stupid duty. Stupid marriage—

A strangled cry left your lips as you grabbed a book from your table and launched it across your room. It landed with a thud halfway across the room.

Modest in temper, bold in deed. That was the Trevelyan House motto. You wondered if your actions hadn't been enough for them. Why weren't you enough for them?

“My love?” Cullen called as he climbed the stairs, his curly blond hair coming into view through the banister.

You turned back to your desk. You’d rather take on five dragons rather than face Cullen now.

He came to a stop a few feet from you, “Are you alright?”

“Cullen, please,” you croaked, and you put all of your weight on your desk. The pain had traveled up to your shoulder now.

“Talk to me,” he begged, taking a step toward you.

“Get out!” You screeched as you whipped around to face him, but you were too late.

The anchor flared an angry green and pain shot up your arm like wildfire. Your vision went white for a moment and you fell to your knees. It felt like needles were being stabbed into your skin and you held your hand close to your chest. You let out a strained gasp as the pain began to subside.

Cullen was at your side in an instant, calling your name and begging you to look at him. Your lips were moving but you couldn’t make out what you were saying. Your ears were ringing.

“Please, my love, just look at me,” he grabbed your limp form and pulled you into his lap.

You were crying now, silent words leaving your mouth quicker than your mind could process.

Cullen pulled your head to his shoulder, the other one supporting your back. You nuzzled into the fur wrapped around his shoulders and took a shuddering breath.

"I'm okay," you croaked out.

Cullen shook his head, "You were praying."

Ah, so that's what you were saying.

Travelyan's have always been pious people. Their devotion to the Chantry was sacred to them. You spent most of your life preparing to fulfill the role your parents set out for you. You were to become a Templar or a member of the Chantry. That was until the Chantry blew up and you obtained this wretched mark and became the Herald of Andraste. That seemed to placate your family until now.

Even when you abandoned the Chantry and their teachings, you still found comfort in the Chant… in the Maker.

"How… how long has this been happening?" Cullen questioned as he smoothed your hair and held you close.

You sighed, "Up until recently it was bearable."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tears were running freely down his cheeks and you wanted to fling yourself off of the rookery.

The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him.

"I was scared," you whisper, and the admission feels like a weight off your chest. Fear was something you dealt with alone, always having to put on a brave face.

You wiped his tears away and he continued, "I'll do anything in my power to help you; you just have to let me."

You kissed him, hoping that your actions could say what your words couldn't. I'm sorry. I'm scared of losing you. I don't want to die.

He pulled away when the need for oxygen became too great. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen you were getting that emboldened you to whisper your thoughts against his lips, "Marry me."

"What?"

You grinned as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "Marry me, and we won't have to worry about this Marion," you took on a more serious tone, "We can just be together for however much time I have left."

"Don't say that, we can figure out the anchor. Together. Married or not," he said as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You shifted so you were straddling him, and you tilted your head, "Don't you want to get married?"

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips before moving on to kiss the rest of your face. "Of course, I do. But," you let out an exaggerated groan and he continued, "I want to get married because we want to, not because some heathen thinks they're betrothed to the love of my life."

"You sure do have a way with words, Commander," you murmured, running your hands along his shoulders.

"I love you," he breathed, as he ran his hands gently up your sides.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him once more. Your lips moved in tandem and you ran your fingers through his hair.

You inserted an 'I love you' between each kiss, hoping that if you chanted it long enough it may dull some of the fear of what's to come. Your love would persevere. It had to.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Dragon Age, plz be kind :')

#cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #cullen x inquisitor #dragon age #dragon age inquistion #dai #cullen rutherford x reader #josephine montilyet #leliana #hurt/comfort #house trevelyan

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footprintsinthesxnd · 7 months

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Young Love and Old Money

Summary: this series follows the story of Lewis Nixon and Josephine Wills and their trials, tribulation and love throughout WW2, including stories of their friends in between. Warnings: swearing, mentions of war, class prejudices Moodboards Masterlist

Meeting the Americans - Aldbourne, October 1943

The spokes of the wheels were a blur, individually working as one as they spun erratically. The chain rattled with each turn as the metal frame flew down the misted country lanes. The front wheel coasted to the right and bit at the soft mud that lay across the tarmac road, as it always did after some rain, but its rider barely noticed, hurtling around the winding bends. Josephine, until recently, hadn’t cycled these lanes for many years and yet the path was embroidered inside her mind like a well-worn, well-loved map. She knew just where she was going, as her legs pushed the bike forward, speed increasing with each turn. Josephine couldn’t remember the last time she had cycled towards her old home, it seemed strange calling it old for it was still her home and yet it was not at the same time.

The rooftop of Littlecote House could be seen from the road, its large pointed chimneys casting a dark shadow against the early October skyline. Josephine felt her grip on the handlebars tighten slightly at the sight of her home as she rode into the gravel driveway. Although she knew they would be there, it still caused her heart to ache as she watched groups of American soldiers pour into and out of her childhood home. Boxes of paperwork, ratios, and furniture were all being carted to and fro. Three large Deuce and a half trucks were parked on the once pristine, green lawn and several more jeeps lined the driveway. Josephine could see the shadowy figures of officers through the upstairs windows, busy with their days and ignorant of the lives they had destroyed for their new headquarters. She never knew why she did it. Why did she cycle here every morning to inspect her home? It’s not as if they would care what she thought of them or not. The Yanks were here and for now, they were here to stay whether the residents of Aldbourne and Ramsbury approved or not.

Josephine’s bike screeched to a halt, kicking up the gravel as she swerved to avoid two officers standing in the gateway. Both looked up, a little surprised at the woman before them whose cheeks were growing ever redder under their gaze.

“Can we help you, Miss?” The first one asked, his tall, slender frame towering over Josephine in a non-threatening but still authoritative way, while the other officer looked on with an amused smirk gracing his lips.

“No, I am fine… thank you,” Josephine replied, begrudgingly remembering her manners. The officer nodded, stepping back a few steps, a kind smile gracing his lips. His friend on the other hand seemed intrigued.

“Then tell me, Miss…” he paused waiting for her name, which Josephine knew she would not willingly give away to an American, Officer or not.

“What is your business here? This is the regimental headquarters and unless I’m mistaken you are not part of the 506.” The corner of his lips twitched upwards and his eyes seemed to shine at this victory. Josephine could only just resist the urge to slap his ridiculously attractive face, American or not she had to admit he was handsome. The Officer seemed to sense this dislike and his smile only grew wider, as if he knew he was getting under her skin.

“No your observations are correct, I am not part of the 50… whatever it is but…”

“The 506, ma’am. We are officers of the 101st Airborne Division, 506 PIR.”

Josephine could feel her fingernails digging into her palm in frustration, sweat beginning to trickle down her neck in an unladylike fashion. She swallowed, “Yes I am quite aware of who has stolen my house. Thank you very much,” she snapped, not meaning to sound as harsh as she did. The taller officer of the two, the one with the kind smile, seemed a little taken aback. His cheeks grew to match the colour of the hair on his head and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. The second officer too seemed a little shocked but soon regained his composure.

“Oh, so you must be part of the Wills family and as far as I know they only have one daughter so you must be Josephine. It's lovely to meet you, Josephine.” He bowed elaborately, waving his arm above his head.

“How do you…?” She began, looking even more flustered and hating the effect this man seemed to have upon her.

“I’m Lieutenant Lewis Nixon, ma’am. I’m the Intelligence Officer, it’s my job to know everything.”

Josephine bit back the growl that had been building in the back of her throat, swallowing any composure she had left she picked her bike up, stomping over to Lewis Nixon. “Well you can unlearn my name for a start Mr. Intelligence Officer because you won’t be needing it.” Josephine knew she should have stopped there. She shouldn’t have even gone there to begin with but she was so infuriated not only at these two American Officers but at everything, her family's situation, the war, having to come home from Oxford. Despite none of this being their fault Josephine continued, “You know no one wants you here. No one is Ramsbury or Aldbourne, hell I doubt anyone in England wants you over here. Do you realise that we have already been in this war for 2 years. 2 years and where the hell were you Yanks then, huh?” The red-headed officer straightened up, clearly finding the situation even more awkward than before. He opened his mouth to speak and Josephine already knew he was the type of man who was going to try and smooth over the situation but his friend was not.

“Oh yeah and what does a rich little girl know about war and suffering, I bet you’ve never worked a day in your life. You’ve grown up in a mansion in the English countryside, everything has been handed to you on a plate. I bet Daddy even bought you a pony. So yes, we Americans might be late in joining the war but at least we’re fucking fighting in it! What’s your contribution to the war effort? Oh yes, your stately home, boohoo.”

By the end of his outburst, Lewis Nixon's face was red and his chest heaving, whilst Josephine could feel tears beginning to sting her eyes. She knew both men could see them glistening in the early morning light but she was not about to let them see her cry.

“Good day gentlemen,” she carefully climbed back onto her back, pushing with her feet to move herself off the gravel driveway and began the slow but steady climb back up the hill away from her house with only the images of Lewis Nixon plaguing her mind.

The cottage was empty when Josie arrived home. She dragged her bike up the small cobbled pathway, avoiding the rose bushes that lined the edge of the path. The cottage was set back from the road, nestled amongst a small grove of trees. Josie considered it small in relation to Littlecote, it had small rooms, small pokey windows, and a small front and back garden. In fact, everything just seemed miniature compared to her old home. The cottage had been in her family for years, often rented out to the gamekeeper of the estate but after he’d signed up to the Army there had been no gamekeeper to inhabit it. Josie sighed loudly, slamming the door aggressively causing the frail windows to shake in their frames. She stormed up the steps to her room, the antiquated curtains shielding the room from any sunlight and casting a gloomy shadow over her. The floorboards groaned beneath her feet, aching under the weight of the years of use. She kicked off her shoes, discarding them in the corner and falling dramatically onto the measly single bed. How dare he speak to her in such a way? Who did he think he was? Lewis Nixon. His name seemed to run through her mind, haunting her for the remainder of the day.

Josie’s parents were currently in London on a business trip and so she had the house to herself. Normally Josie would have delighted in time without her parents' constant nagging and endless questions regarding her whereabouts. Since she left for university at Oxford each visit home seemed more tedious than the last and the rift only seemed to grow between them. Tonight, however, she wished they were there, even if it was just to distract her from the extremely rude yet dashingly handsome paratrooper that despite his mannerisms she couldn't stop thinking about. She could imagine him pressing her harshly against the wall, kissing her harshly, his stubble grazing her…

A sharp knock at the front door pulled Josie from her thoughts and she realised that she must have drifted off into a daydream. Darkness had consumed the room, an ivory glow peeked through a small crack between the curtains from the moon. Josie groaned, pushing herself off the bed as the sharp knocking sound came again. As Josie hurried barefoot down the neat, square steps, taking three at a time, she wondered if it was Jess or Jules, although neither of them would normally call this late at night. Jessica and Julian had been Josie’s best friends since they were in their early teens. They had spent nearly every day of their young lives together until Julian and his family emigrated to New England in the States. He constantly remarked that New England was never as good as ‘Old England’ and he insisted that he would not identify as an American, despite his normally Welsh accent sometimes slipping into an American twang. Jess on the other hand had grown up in a small cottage in Aldbourne where she lived with her parents next door to their small veterinary practice. She was always taking in some stray animal or another which is how Josie’s family had ended up with multiple dogs over the years. Josie had always admired Jess for her strong sense of justice and a need to help others which is probably how when the war broke out she trained to become a nurse with the Army Nursing Corps which is also how she came to meet Eugene, Easy Company’s medic. He was the only American Josie had ever warmed to. With his thick southern accent and shy demeanour, Josie had thought he fitted perfectly into their little group, not that she was allowed to tell him how Jess felt towards him but he did sometimes tag along to the local pub, The Crown which was generally considered the officer's pub but they managed to smuggle Eugene in any way.

Josie’s fingers enveloped the brass handle, tugging sharply at the door and allowing it to swing back on its hinges with a small scream. Had Josie been of an anxious or faint-hearted disposition she may have screamed also as she came face to face with the person on the other side. A rather bedraggled Lewis Nixon stood, shivering as the rain began to soak through his uniform and despite the weather being rather warm for October there was a fierce breeze tonight. Josie stopped dead in the doorway, her red painted fingernails digging into the oak frame, her mouth hung open like a fish and her eyes bulged in an unladylike manner. Lewis Nixon however didn’t seem to notice, his eyes never moving away from her face. Guilt was written all over his face and his bottom lip seemed to quiver, whether that was from the cold or his uncertainty she wasn’t quite sure.

“Hi,” he spoke slowly, his expression reminding her of the stray spaniel puppy that she had helped Jess raise when they were teenagers.

“Umm… hello,” was all Josie could muster, the confusion must have been evident on her face because Lewis quickly responded.

“I… I ummm came to talk. Could I come in?” Josie nodded, pushing the door wider and allowing the very soggy paratrooper inside, following the wet footsteps he’d left on the oak floor into the open kitchen. Josie shuffled past him, filling the aluminium kettle and placing it onto the hob before pulling two mugs from the cupboard.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Please,” Lewis replied, his teeth chattering a little less than before. Whilst the kettle was boiling, Josie started the fire in the kitchen and ushered Lewis towards it, placing a blanket around his saturated shoulders.

“So, what was it that you wanted to talk about?” Josie asked, trying to keep her voice neutral, although the anger still boiled inside her from their previous encounter.

Lewis reached forward, taking her hand carefully between his much larger ones, rubbing his calloused fingers over her soft knuckles and tracing the veins that ran over the dorsal side. His dark eyes looked up to meet hers, his expression almost loving and Josie could feel her heart fluttering against her rib cage.

“Well…” Lewis began as the piercing scream from the boiling kettle rang out. Josie quickly excused herself, hurrying to take the kettle off the boil. She rushed to make the drinks, spilling some hot water on the side as she did, her mind already wondering what could be so urgent. Why would an officer come all this way in the dark and pouring rain to discuss something with her? When she returned Lewis was wafting his hands by the fire, his shoulders no longer shaking and his ebony hair was losing the last of its damp droplets. He smiled at her gratefully, excepting the cup and saucer and placing it on the small oak table beside him.

“I came to talk to you… well to apologise to you.” He took her hands once more in his, squeezing them reassuringly. “The way I spoke to you before was completely uncalled for and I have no idea why I acted in such a way. I brought shame upon my unit and I only hope that you will not look harshly upon all of the 101st due to my behaviour.”

Josie was once again left speechless, her lips poised around the rim of her cup as she froze. Was he really apologising to her? Never once had a man apologised for his actions before, somehow it always came down to being her fault despite that rarely being true.

Lewis Nixon looked at her expectantly, his gorgeous, rich, brown eyes shining in the light of the fire.

“Well, I am sorry too,” Josie couldn't quite believe she was saying this but her lips seemed to move despite her brain's complaints. “My behaviour early was atrocious and completely unlike me.” She knew this wasn’t necessarily true, she had always been known for her fiery temper but she had never quite so publicly humiliated herself as she had done that morning. “I am afraid I must be ailing for something and I sincerely hope you will accept my apology.”

The corners of Lewis’ lips twitched into an amused smile. “Well Ma’am, I fear I cannot accept your apology for you have nothing to be sorry for. Your actions were just and completely fair in this situation. I only hope I can make amends to you.” Josie blushed furiously, feeling the heat growing from her bosom up to her round cheeks.

“Well… I… umm.”

“How about dinner? Tomorrow night? I can pick you up,” Lewis asked, his normal confident facade returning quickly and the dazzle reappeared in his eyes, bright and exuberant compared to the guilty look he portrayed earlier.

“Well, I can’t see any reason why not…” Josie began, as Lewis jumped enthusiastically from his chair.

“Excellent. I’ll see you at 6.” Without letting Josie confirm the time, he barreled towards the door joyfully with Josie in hot pursuit. He flung it open wide, allowing the rain to batter its way inside and soak the drab hallway carpet.

“Oh and Miss Josephine,” he swivelled on the heels of his dark leather jump boots.

“Yes,” Josie replied, hating how pathetic and weak her voice sounded.

“Wear something red. I think it would be becoming for your complexion and it’s my favourite colour.”

And just like that Lewis Nixon disappeared into the night leaving Josie rather hot under the collar. How did this man have such an effect on her? She had barely known him 24 hours and yet her heart fluttered more for him than it had for any of the men that came before. Josie shut the door carefully, shutting out the night and returned to the kitchen for her cup of tea, images of Lewis Nixon appearing before her eyes as she sighed deeply. She only hoped that she would not dream of him too.

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