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owaowabetch · 3 years

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Minecraft Part 2 (Sykkuno x F!Reader)

Oneshot (maybe part of a series??? at this point probs): Chaos in the server, Will a deal entice you to become part of the comfy cartel? Or will you resist the temptation of the deal and side with the resistance? Friendship and a lil romance (oohhh things are starting to heat up)

Warning:Non beta (cuz we baddies purr); part of Uh-oh & Impasta

You had been streaming Minecraft for about 4 hours when you decided to end it for a small meal break. Though ending stream didn’t stop you from continuing playing with your friends. Unfortunately, Sykkuno had not been on while you were streaming, since you did so quite earlier than usual, but you wanted to remodel your minecraft home; turning the once pink wooden home to a white quartz block using the obscene amount of quartz that Jae gifted you as to entice you to join his faction in the sever. It was a nice bribe gift, but you have yet to align yourself with the ressistance or the comfy cartel.

So, while gettin gifted quartz blocks was nice, hearing that Toast gave Lily a gun enticed you more.But you doubt Toast’s whole character arc will entrust you with one. You maybe be living with his ‘right-hand’ man, but he seems to be slowly on a downward spiral. Kind of like a crazy wacky scientist- he’s doofenshmirtz.

Anyways you had completed the finishing touches on your remodeled, when you saw in the little chat that Sykkuno was on. “ OH!OH!OH! SYKKUNO!”

You were excited to show him the newly made house. The house was three levels to your house, but you’re mostly wanna show him the basement area.

You saw the iconic teal shirt paired with the green stripped scarf boxy figure making their way towards you. You emoted the cheering pose and happily called out to him “Hi Sykkuno!”

“Hey, Y/n!” He cheered back coming closer “I have something for you!”

You start jumping up and down “Present!” You like getting free things, especially if it comes from someone you like....as a friend of course. Yup yup, just as a friend. As, he stood in front of you he laughed “What are you doing?” watching your character wave their arms around

You laughed back at him “Just happy to see you!”

“Well, I’m always happy to see you!” Sykkuno chirps out and adds on with a slight stutter “C-cause we’re friends! I’m always happy to see such a great friend!”

Feeling the high of him telling you how he was always happy to see you was crushed by him reminding you that friends is all that you both may only ever be. So with the disappointment lingering and the excitement wearing off, you just mutter a reply back. “Yes! The bestest of friends!”

“Yup, yup. Anyways have some water mills” He throws some black blocks with blue markings on them “Follow me!” You both ran near your home “Claim this bit of land” and you did so. “Now, dig like a 3 by 6 hole and place two water mills close to each corner and one in the middle bottom”(1). You followed his instructions “Ok, so im just gunna place the water” You watched him do so “Ok! I think it’s all good and ready to go!”

You crouch and inch around the hole “What is it?”

“Ok well you know how I got you that green lasso that has you swinging and jumping all over the place with the slime boots?” Sykkuno asks crounching up right beside you

“Yea yea!” You crouch and uncrouch in circles around him

“Well I have something even better!” He cheers “Eh” he grunts and throws a ring on the floor. You awe and oh as you put the ring in your hot bar “How cute! It has little wings on it!”

“Yea! It’s a special ring” Sykkuno tells you

“Special ring?...Are you proposing to me! OMG Sykkuno” You joke

“Wah?” Spluttering out in confusion but deciding to play along “I mean are you accepting?”

You laugh “Woah, Sy! How bold of you sir”

He giggles back to you before teaching you how and where to put the ring. “OK do you have it on?”

You jump up and down in response allowing the slime boots to spring you up higher. “Yup Yup”

“Ok so, why don’t you take off your slime boots and then press the space bar” He jumps up and down, which you do. You gasp as you are lifted into the air “Sy! Look! Im flying!!” He is in the air next to you “I can see! Cause I am also flying!”

“How are we doing this! This is so fucking cool!” You laugh as you start moving around in the air “WAIT! Are you streaming? I’m so sorry!”

He laughs as he starts following you around in the air “It’s fine, but the ring I gave you is an angel ring. As long as your wearing it, then you can just fly around”

“Wow! Thanks Sykkuno!” You cheer and you walk around in the air “Clean! Clean!”

“Yea, Of Course! It’ll be alot easier for you to get to places faster” He explains once more “Now, my chat has been going crazy and telling me that you redid our house?”

Excitement lit through you as you were ready to show him the remodeling works that you’ve done “Yes! I did! I’m so excited to show you” You move your camera out of first person and notice your character wearing a pair of white wings on your back “Oh my god! Sykkuno! I didn’t know that there was actual wings that appear on your lil person!”

“uh yea! I didn’t know if you wanted to have or not, cause mine are invisible” Sykkuno says flying next to you as you make the short distance back to your home “but i remembered you saying that you wanted to buy fairy wings. I could’ve made them pink to look like them, but i thought the white ones would suit you better”

“Cause i’m such an angel?” You tease as you reached your front door

“Well uh you are um a nice person” Hearing the shyness in his tone made you think that he was being sincere and it made you blush “Thank you Sykkuno, you’re one of the best people i know!”

He clears his throat “uh well um, look we made it!” trying to divert the conversation away from the compliments. You made a mental note to yourself to compliment him more, so that his confidence rises up and he no longer shies away from them.

“Yup!” You open the door “come on in!” He oh’ed as he came in, seeing the kitchen area first “As you can see Sy and chat, I have created a kitchen with actual fucking oven and fridge! How crazy is that! These mods are cool!”

“So, yeah! Kitchen area, though I doubt we’ll use it” You comment

“Wow! a fridge! Neat!” He opened the fridge and looked at the decor of other kitchen appliances

You laugh at his wording “ Yup! and this is our living room slash library” leading him further into the house and showing him the sitting area with a bunch of bookcases surrounding the fake chairs “and right next to this is the ‘dining room’ where more seats were placed with a table and a cute flower in a pot atop the table. “So, yea this is the first floor!”

“This is cool! Oh! it’s [y/f/flower] on the table” He notes and you nod feeling your cheeks flush a bit before admitting “of course! It’s actually the flower you gave me on our first day...”

“thats, thats really cool that you kept it” Sykkuno replies and there is a bit of silence between the two of you. Not awkward but almost in a content kind of way. Peaceful if you will.

“Ok! Now lets head upstairs! It’s where we sleep!” You say walking up the stairs showing him the green beds placed next to each other “I didn’t know if you wanted to sleep next to each other again, but i did it anyways lol”

He walked around the room and admired the little decor spread around the walls and opened chests in the room. He laughed awkwardly “it’s fine, it’s just a respawn point so its no biggie!”

“Yea to sleepovers!” You cheer

Clearing his throat he noted how much he liked the room, causing you to smile and thank him “But i know what you’ve been wanting to see the most!”

“What do you mean?” He questioned and looked at you

“The basement! Dun Dun DUN!” You jump at him scooting him down the stairs

He laughed in disbelief “What was that? Did you just hit me?”

“Nope” Emphasizing the p “ I just jumped at you which caused you to go down the stairs! I could never hurt you Sy!”

“Well I could never hurt you too” He mutters back and you pouted at how cute his response was

“Oh! You could just make your way down there! I forgot that Jae wanted me to give him some quartz back!” You gasp remembering what Jae had told you

“What do you mean?” His character looks back at you

And you look back at his and think “hmmm I don’t know if I should snitch or not, but Jae gave me an obsence amount of quartz blocks to build the house! I knew it was a little hard for you to get some, so he offered to give me some”

He hummed back “I see....”

You noted how the atmosphere tensed for a split moment until Sykkuno happily noted that it was nice of him to give you something he couldn’t, but it sounded a bit off to you. Though you didn’t pay much attention to that since you didn’t want to reveal the resistance, as you have yet to align yourself with any of the two factions, well soon to be three since you believe that Sydney is doing some witchy stuff.

“Well, why don’t you go do that while I check the basement and give something to toast really quick!” He tells you

“Ok!” You reply back to him rifling through your chests to find the remaining the blocks to give to Jae “I’ll see you in a bit, maybe toast too!”

With that you made your way back to Jae to hand him the quartz back, though it was quite an ordeal since he made a whole rant on how evil the comfy cartel were and how you should join them and become a spy cause apparently Toast is planning on doing something that could affect the entire server....

So you just ignored all of that and made your way back home, to have Toast and Sykkuno greet you at the front door.

“Hey guys! Im back” You cheer at them

“What did Jae want huh?!?!” Toast immediately questions you “Did you tell him any of our business huh? Should we be trusting you huh? huh? HUH!?!”

“Whoa Toast” You back up as he was getting all up in your face

“Wow Toast, are you okay?” Sykkuno places himself between you two

“Im doing just fine” Toast answers back and you notice his full gear armor “Just wanted to know if we have a rat here”

You tsk “wow Toast, I see how it is. I see. By the way you look like a Power Rangers villan, just sayin”

He takes out his gun and points it at you “Well you won’t be sayin much Motherfucka!”

“I won’t say anything at all if you give me a gun to join the comfy cartel” You hit Sykkuno away and hear him utter an ow “Cause I don’t have an allegiance with anyone at the moment. So I’m a free agent and I can talk to whoever whenever” Throwing his words back at him and implying that you can speak to anyone without repercussions.

“AH right you are not part of the comfy cartel yet” He nods to himself “Well I wont give you a gun to join the group cause frankly I know that you’ll just shoot me”

You sigh “Then i’-”

“Instead!” He interrupts you “I’ll give you something better!”

You pout “but i wanna cap a bitch”

“Instead of cappin’ you’ll be rackin’ cause you’re gunna have to collect taxes from people and in exchange you get the left hand of my right hand” He moves closer to you, that statement throw you through a loop ‘left hand?right hand?’. You were confusion. “Capiche?”

“What do you mean?” You question and he evil laughs and hits sykkuno.

“Wha? What was that Toast” Sykkuno also confused as to why Toast hit him and what Toast meant.

“I’m saying that you can have Sykkuno!” He evil laughs once more

Sykkuno splutters “Wha? What do you mean Toast?!?!”

You were shocked at what he said. Giving you Sykkuno? “What do you mean?”

“You can marry Sykkuno” He repeats himself once more “You are both important to each other, why else live together? This way I’m keeping you both in check” and once again with the evil laughter

‘I’m glad im not streaming otherwise some of the more entitled fangirls would 100% send hate comments to me’ you think to yourself

You hum “Will I still get a gun?”

“Only if you can become my number one marksmen and execute the people I tell you too” He offers you

“Deal” You nod to yourself

“Wha? [Y/N]?” Sykkuno sputters out “You’re ok with this?” and nodding to yourself you reply with a yes and asks him if he is also “Well I- uh I” he continues to laugh awkwardly “I mean uh sure?”

“Neat!” You reply throwing a diamond at him “Here’s your dowry lol”

Though before another conversation could happen Toast butts in once more “This was a test and you both passed” and throws a gun at you “Here take this one, prove yourself and I’ll get you a better one”

You put the gun in your hot bar and place it in your hand. “Clean!” You start point it in different directions “Thanks! Toast!”

“Don’t betray me or else you gets the hose!” He starts walking backwards then comes back up to you “Oh, also your target is Leslie, be sure to collect her taxes before killing her.” Walking backwards once more before coming back “Oh Sykkuno hand me the diamond [y/n] gave you.” He does so “Ok that’ll be your last tax payment until I have you look for materials for a special project” He evil laughs as he flies away

“OK! Great talk!” You call out and emote the happy one, with your arms lifted up and shaking about “Awesome! I get a gun muahahahaha!”

You hear Sykkuno clear his throat “so uh, you were ok with marrying me?”

“Yea! so were you!” You say as you move you camera around trying to find a good angle to see it properly

“Because you were!” He replies back and that took you aback a bit as you didn’t realize how uncomfortable it may have been for him.

“Well you didn’t have too if you didn’t want to” You felt a bit embarrassed at the fact that he did it because you wanted to but not he himself personally

“Wha, well I didn’t think you were being serious” Once again laughing awkwardly “Cause you know girls aren’t in- OW”

You shot him with the gun in annoyance.

‘Bitches are into you Sykkuno’ You screamed in your head ‘I‘M BITCHES!’

Author’s Note:

Side Note 1 - I dont know if this is correct lol

No cap but i had written half of this like 3 days after writing Part 1 but I got lazy lmao sorry! Also this is gunna be a slowburn story cuz lets be real our smol bean and all of our asses are awkward as hell and kind insecure in the romantic aspect, so realistically it would not be fast paced.

So here it is Minecraft pt.2/4

Tags: @sushiims

#sykkuno x reader #sykkuno fanfic #sykkuno imagines #sykkuno x y/n #sykkuno #sykkuwu #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 3 years

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Worthy, pt 1 & 2

I stopped and stared up at the building in front of me. Imposing, huge, and a beacon for anyone concerned with clean energy. I had won the internship at Stark Industries research and development division by working my ass off all year, coming up with innovative and exciting ways to utilize the arc reactor technology. I’d been interviewed by Mr. Stark himself when it came time to award the position. I’d never been so excited to work in an unpaid position in my life. It was made all the better by being in New York City. And even more awesome because accommodation was provided in the tower. Even if the internship didn’t lead to permanent employment at Stark Industries after my sojourn there, it would be a resume jackpot.

I stopped at the main security desk and picked up my passcard. Elizabeth Carmichael. It sounded much more glamourous than Ella did, but I’d never been called Elizabeth in my entire life. Always Ella, except from my Nan, who called me Bethy. I clipped the tag on my blouse and headed to the elevator. The email from the HR department had been clear: pick up your passcard, and report to the main office of R&D on the 55th floor. I pressed the button and waited for the elevator to close. A hand reached in to stop the door and Mr. Stark stepped in. He smiled, like he would to anyone he shared the elevator with, and then his eyes narrowed as he read my nametag.

“Ms. Carmichael! You’ve made it to the city then? Where are your bags? Are you not staying on site?” He spoke so fast I could barely follow him.

“My flight arrived late last night. I thought I would stay at a hotel overnight and then get organized to move into my room, sir.” I felt breathless just trying to keep up with his speech, and rushed through my own explanation.

“We’ll send someone to collect your things. We’re having a little social in the lounge tonight; you don’t want to miss it. Good networking opportunities. There are three of you that earned internships. Pepper was particularly excited about you. Not a lot of women in STEM, you know. So we’re having a meet and greet for the three of you. Mostly Stark staff, but there'll be some others in attendance. Angela will get you organized.” There was even information stored in the nuances of how he spoke. It was going to be overwhelming until I got used to it. If I got the chance to get used to it. This elevator interaction might be the last time I saw Mr. Stark for the rest of the summer. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into the bright, clean research and development administrative office. I waited at the desk while the woman sitting there was on a call. Her nameplate said Angela, so I suspected she was who Mr. Stark said would organize me.

“Ella, right?” She swivelled her chair to face me. I nodded. “I’ve already contacted the concierge at your hotel to have your belongings sent over. I’ll show you to your rooms at the end of your orientation and tour. Then you can get settled.”

“I won’t be working?” I was surprised.

“Not today. Today is all about the Stark Industries machine and how you fit into it. So orientation to the labs, meet some of the people you’ll be working under, settling into your suite and figuring out your way around. There’s a meet and greet tonight.” She typed something into her computer and then rose. Without waiting for me, she headed off down a hallway. “This is the administrative floor for Research and Development. R&D takes twenty floors here, from 55 to 75. Starting at the 76th floor, the Avengers Tower begins, and you’ll only end up there if Mr. Stark wants to meet with you. Well, and for the mixer tonight. The 56th and 57th floors are all housing. Our guest scientists are housed on 56 and your suite is on 57. The project you’ve been assigned to is an offshoot of the household arc reactor project, and will allow you to work on one of your proposals. That division is on 60 through 65. Your direct supervisor is Markus Reid.” I scrambled to scribble notes and keep up with her and she led me through a maze of hallways and offices. We finally came to a halt and I was so busy scratching notes into my notebook that I bumped into her.

“Oh, god. Sorry,” I apologized. She smiled and shook her head.

“Relax, Ella. You were the top candidate. Your proposals rocked Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts' socks off. You belong here,” she reassured me. “And I’m going to email all this info to you, so you can put away your notebook.”

“Thanks. I’m feeling a bit small right now,” I admitted.

“The first few days are very overwhelming for every Stark Industries employee. It’s why we schedule nothing work-related on the first day.” She knocked on a door and hesitated just a second before opening it. “I have Elizabeth Carmichael here to sign some paperwork.” She led me into the office, and sat in a chair near the door after pointing to a chair at the desk. Another woman smiled and dropped a sheaf of paper in front of me.

“The bottom half of that is the paperwork for you that explains everything in the top half. But this is a basic non-disclosure agreement. The second one is the follow up to the initial waiver you signed when you applied for the internship, giving proprietary rights to Stark Industries, while maintaining your intellectual property, authorship and development rights. That basically means if what you’re working on goes into production, it will be a Stark Industries product, but you will be credited as the inventor. There’s some tax paperwork and a release for your university.” The woman handed me a pen. I looked up at her while I tried to process everything she’d explained.

“Tax paperwork?”

“For your pay.”

“Oh, I’m here for the internship. I’m not paid.” I thought that would be clear to an HR person.

“No, Mr. Stark pays his interns. It makes the transition when you are hired easier,” she explained.

“What?”

“Did you not read your acceptance package?” She gave me a look that suggested she thought I might be stupid.

“I did. It suggested that if Stark Industries was happy with my performance, I could be offered an extension at the end of the internship, provided my degree was complete.” At least, that’s what I’d understood from reading it.

“And you’ve already provided transcripts showing you’ve finished both your bachelor’s and master’s degrees. There were only three internships offered, Ms. Carmichael. We complete all your paperwork now with the assumption that you will be staying on at Stark Industries. If you’ve passed our rigorous application process, we feel you are a keeper. If you choose not to stay, it will be because you chose not to stay,” She explained. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I knew the internship was prestigious, but I didn’t realize exactly how incredible it was.

“Oh. Well. In that case,” I said and scratched my signature across the papers in front of me. She offered her hand. I stood and shook it.

“Welcome to Stark Industries, Ms. Carmichael.”

XXX

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Angela assured me that her email would include maps, and secret notes and tidbits that would help me remember everything, but I was so floored from the words of the HR person that I really couldn’t focus. Angela led me to the commissary for lunch and ordered for both of us. I didn’t even realize until she handed me a tray with food on it.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked. I gave my head a little shake to snap back to reality and smiled in apology.

“Sorry. I’m feeling even more overwhelmed than I was when I got out of the cab this morning,” I laughed. She took a seat at a table and nodded for me to sit across from her.

“You should give yourself some credit. You earned your place here. Pepper is really excited about having you. I suspect you’ll be the poster child for gender equality at Stark Industries for some time to come. As soon as you won that internship, your place here was secured. Probably for life,” she grinned. I shook my head.

“What if I’m a dud?”

“You aren’t though. Mr. Stark himself thoroughly vetted your application, and Pepper went through your references with a fine tooth comb. She even tracked down extra references. You deserve this more than anyone who’s ever applied before, Ella.”

“I feel like I might be sick,” I groaned. It was her turn to shake her head.

“It’s first day jitters. Once you’ve settled into a routine and have your nose into all that sciencey stuff you do, it’ll all blow over,” She laughed. I didn’t want to pick a fight so I just focussed on my lunch.

XXX

My suite was ridiculous. I’d understood we’d be provided with a room. In my mind, I had thought dormitory style, like at university. I was quickly learning Tony Stark did nothing by halves. I had a suite. First of all, the whole thing was fully furnished. The master bedroom had the biggest bed I’d ever seen in it, and an ensuite bathroom with a shower bigger than my last dorm room. There was a second bedroom, I’m not sure why. Plus an office, an open floor plan living room and kitchen and a main bathroom. There was a storage closet that I’m pretty sure could have kept a small family comfortable. And a deck with a view of the city. I opened the fridge and discovered it had been fully stocked already. I grabbed a bottle of water and stood at the counter, the overwhelming feeling of just too much washing across me again. There was a bound book on the counter, and when I flipped through it, I realized it was a Stark Tower lifestyle guide, with information about the pool, the gym, the on-site movie theatre, the commissary, and on and on. There was a tablet on the wall that allowed you to order in take-away or groceries. Housekeeping was once a week. I pinched myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream, fully expecting to awaken back in the dorm room at the university. But I didn’t.

I unpacked my bags and checked my email for the details on the get together. Casual evening wear. What was that, even? I grabbed my phone and texted Angela. Whether she liked it or not, she was my new bestie.

“What does casual evening wear mean?”

“Nothing too fancy. Knee length dress is more appropriate than floor length.”

“I’ve been in university for the last nine years. I have nothing even remotely appropriate.”

“I’m on it. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

XXX

“I’m sorry, Angela, I just didn’t know who else to ask.” I felt like all I was doing was apologizing to her. She laughed.

“You’re my assignment for the next few weeks. And you are so much nicer than the last new hire I was paired with. I can see actually wanting to spend time with you,” she laughed.

“Really? You’re my personal person?” I arched an eyebrow. She laughed again.

“Something like that. Human Resources likes to pair someone from admin to new hires as an orientation guide. It’s a pretty awesome job, to be honest. I get to meet most of the new people on their way in the door. Make lots of new friends. Meet lots of cute science nerd guys.” She winked. I laughed.

“And yet you don’t mind being assigned me. I must be very special indeed,” I teased.

“You’re little lost puppy eyes sucked me right in,” she giggled. “Come on, let’s get you a dress.” It felt like she dragged me all over town, but the truth was, we didn’t go far, and we only visited a couple of stores. I tried on everything she brought to me, and let her tell me what looked best. I was most comfortable in jeans, a t-shirt and a lab coat, so I trusted her judgement. We were a whirlwind of activity after picking the dress. She steered me over to a shoe store, and then a make-up store. I didn’t even realize there was such a thing as a make-up store. I only kept mascara in my bathroom because my eyelashes were so light you couldn’t see them without a bit of mascara on them.

When we finally got back to the building, I wanted nothing more than to take a nap. Angela shooed me into the shower and ordered us some dinner instead. She helped me with my hair and then sat me down to eat.

“Do you wear contacts ever?” She asked. I pushed my glasses up my nose and shook my head.

“No, they don’t make contacts for eyes like mine,” I admitted.

“Okay. I can work with that,” she looked at me thoughtfully and chewed on her pizza. Before I knew it, she was rearranging my hair, and applying make-up and amazingly, although I’d honestly never thought I’d enjoy the fuss that went along with dressing up, I did enjoy myself. It helped that Angela kept a running commentary of exclamations about how pretty I was, and how nice my eyes were. I never had thought there was anything particularly special about my brown hair and brown eyes. I changed my mind when Angela let me look in the mirror. My hair was loose and wavy, and cascaded over my shoulders. The red dress she’d found for me highlighted that my hair was more than one shade of brown, and brought out the natural glow in my cheeks. My eyes, despite being framed behind my glasses, looked big and sparkly.

“Wow.”

“You’ll have half the R&D guys begging for your number by the end of the night!” Angela laughed. I blushed.

“I don’t know about that,” I protested. She laughed again.

“Come on. I’ll be your wingman.” She linked arms with me and led me out the door and to the elevator. XXX

The crushing feeling of inadequacy hit me again as the elevator opened up to let us out into the cocktail party. I hesitated at the gap between the elevator and the large, noisy room. Angela gave me a gentle nudge, but I froze, taking in the panorama in front of me. Almost every scientist I’d ever quoted in any of my research was standing in that room, mingling with one another. When Tony Stark isn’t the biggest name in a room, it can make you pause. I’m pretty sure I recognized the most recent recipient of the Nobel Prize in physics standing by the bar. And Dr. Banner was lingering near the door to the patio and pool deck, looking exceptionally uncomfortable. At least he was near an exit where he could cool off and relax if he needed to. His research was what drove me into the sciences. In the end, I decided gamma radiation wasn’t really the area I was passionate about, and pursued research that put me in Stark’s path. But he was still kinda my hero.

“If you don’t step off this elevator right now, I’m going to push you off, and then you’ll draw a lot more attention to yourself than if you act like a normal person.” Angela had my number already. I stepped into the party tentatively. Angela steered me straight to the bar. “Let’s get a drink into you, loosen you up a little. These people have all been where you are, Ella. What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, rocks.” My eyes were glued to the room, and I just kept recognizing more and more people. Surely they all didn’t work for Stark Industries. I would have noticed that at some point during my application process. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts saw me as Angela handed me my drink. Ms. Potts smiled in welcome and headed straight to me. I didn’t have time to panic.

“Ms. Carmichael! I’m so pleased to see you. You look a bit like a canary in a room of cats. Don’t. They’re all harmless. And some of them are very excited to discuss your proposals with you,” she took my hand and squeezed it familiarly. It was not at all like my boss was shaking my hand, but more like a friend greeting me.

“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Potts.” I managed, and took a sip from my glass.

“Please, Pepper is fine. We’ll reserve the formality for press releases,” she smiled. “Are you settling into your rooms?”

“I am. They’re much more than I was expecting. Everything about this internship is more than I was expecting,” I blurted. I was nervous enough that I took a perhaps-larger-than-it-should-have-been swallow from my glass and nearly choked.

“We’re so pleased you accepted, Ms. Carmichael,” Pepper gushed. “Really. I’m sure Angela has filled you in about the women in STEM initiative Stark Industries is backing.”

“If I’m going to call you Pepper, you’re going to have to call me Ella. Angela mentioned a little about it, but I didn’t realize there was an entire initiative.” The combination of vodka and talking shop with Pepper was starting to ease my nerves, and I could feel the tension starting to melt from my shoulders.

“We’re starting summer and weekend science and technology camps for girls. I’m hoping you’ll be able to find some time to work with me on promoting them. I think Angela has scheduled a meeting for us sometime in the next few days,” she explained.

“That would be really cool.” I took another sip. There wasn’t much left in my glass. I was going to need to slow down. Mr. Stark was watching the crowd, but I could tell that his head was in our conversation.

“I hope you’ll come out of your shell a little, Ms. Carmichael. You were vibrant during the interview process. I hope that wasn’t a one-off. It’ll be hard to sell STEM as cool with a mousy science nerd girl as the PR star.” He was suddenly back in the conversation full force. I flushed.

“Tony! It’s first-day nerves. We can’t all be the shiniest constellation in the sky all the time,” Pepper scolded him. “Don’t pay attention to him, Ella. Parties bring out the worst of his quirks.” The way she said it, I could almost see the air-quotes hanging in the air around the word quirks. I smiled.

“I promise you, Mr. Stark. I can be just as shiny as you need me to be when surrounded by young women. It’s when I’m in the presence of the likes of Dr. Banner and Dr. McCoy that I tend to get star-struck. And I think, did I see Reed Richards?” I found my voice. Mr. Stark smiled.

“Since we’re all making friends, you may as well call me Tony,” he allowed. “I make sure my best and brightest get a chance to meet the best and brightest.”

“As much as I appreciate the opportunity, it’s just a little overwhelming.” I felt it was only fair to be honest with them, since they were my employers. Pepper squeezed my hand again.

“I have no doubt, after speaking to your references, that you will be everything that we are looking for, Ella,” she reassured me. I took another sip from my glass, and Tony suddenly noticed it in my hand.

“Please tell me that’s not water. We have a strict no water at parties rule here at Stark Industries.” Mr. Stark took my glass away and finished what was left. He coughed and handed it back. “Oh, I think you’re going to fit in here quite well, Mouse.” Angela took the glass from me and got a fresh one from the bar. I reminded myself to go slow. There was no point in getting drunk in front of such an auspicious crowd on my first day.

Angela led me around to a number of people I would be working with, including my direct supervisor, Markus Reid. He shook my hand with enthusiasm and launched into a long-winded explanation of my project and how it would fit in with his project. I found myself lingering with him for longer than was probably necessary. He was passionate about his work with the arc reactor technology and he reminded me of my thesis supervisor, ready to help and happy to share whatever advances he had discovered. It was the lynchpin in making me settle for the evening. If my supervisor was excited to have me, no one else really mattered. Angela’s face lit up and she excused me from the conversation.

“Shut up. You are not going to believe this. I have someone to introduce to you!” She exclaimed. I followed her as she led me across the lounge and toward the windows overlooking the outside deck. I couldn’t figure out who she wanted me to meet, but the last person who’d been near where we were headed was Dr. Banner, and I was sure she’d seen him earlier. She slowed to a more dignified walk and led me to Dr. Banner. He was chatting with a petite brunette who looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. Dr. Banner looked up and acknowledged Angela as he finished what he was saying to the other woman.

“Angela, you always walk with such purpose.” His tone was warm, and he gripped her hand with both of his. It was obvious from Angela’s relaxed posture that they’d worked with each other a few times.

“Comes with the job. This is Elizabeth Carmichael, one of the new interns here at Stark,” she introduced me. “Ella, this is Bruce Banner.” She paused and turned toward the woman. “And if I’m not mistaken, this is Dr. Jane Foster?” Dr. Banner shook my hand and nodded toward Dr. Foster.

“So pleased to meet you, Dr. Banner. It was your work that led me into the sciences.” I tried not to gush. I don’t think I was successful.

“Really? My understanding was that physics and engineering were your specialties,” he asked. My heart nearly stopped. He knew my areas of study. My science geek girl idol knew my specialties.

“I got really into green energy during my undergrad studies, and my focus switched,” I admitted.

“And my accident had nothing to do with that?” He raised an eyebrow. I laughed and realized that might not have been the best response. I bit back my smile and shook my head.

“Actually, no. Your accident happened when I was in first year, and I stuck with my studies as a minor. It was when it was time to begin my master’s that I felt I could do more good, with my level of knowledge, if I pursued green energy,” I explained. He looked thoughtful.

“And once again, Bruce, I point out that your accident has significantly less effect on the opinions of others than you think,” Dr. Foster jumped in, and offered her hand. I shook it. “Such a pleasure to meet you, Ella. Tony has been beside himself with excitement about your thesis. I think the other two interns might be getting the short end of the stick.”

“Except that there is no short end of the stick at Stark,” Banner argued. Dr. Foster laughed and nodded.

“It’s so true. I wish these internships had existed when I was struggling for funding.” she looked past my shoulder, distracted. I turned and followed her gaze until it lit on the most beautiful man I think I’d ever seen. He was tall, and blond, and broad, with a big smile and an equally large laugh. And from the way Dr. Foster was looking at him, I realized he must be Thor. “I didn’t realize he was going to be here.” The smile fell from her face.

“I’m sorry, Jane, I had no idea. Why would he be here? He’s not one of you sciencey types,” Angela apologized. Dr. Foster turned to me and shook my hand again.

“It was truly lovely to meet you, Ella. I look forward to watching your project. If you ever need anything, Angela can get you in touch with me. Even if it’s just a woman-to-woman bitchfest. We STEM ladies need to stick together.” She excused herself and made her way quickly to the elevator. Angela and I watched her as the elevator doors closed. I was disappointed, but turned back to Dr. Banner. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Thor stepping up to us.

“Banner, my friend! It has been too long since we’ve met. You look well!” Everything about Thor was big. He pulled Dr. Banner into one of those one-armed-man-hugs, his massive arms straining against the confines of his t-shirt. He towered over both of us. He released Dr. Banner and turned to Angela and I. If I looked anything like Angela did, I was gawking like a slack-jawed idiot. I nudged her gently and she closed her mouth.

“Ladies, it is well to make your acquaintance. I am Thor, of Asgard,” he introduced, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Angela.

“Ella Carmichael.” I couldn’t form any other words. There was just so much of him, and it was so close. I was completely star-struck in a way I’d never been about a fellow scientist. He took Angela’s hand.

“Angela Benett,” she breathed. I was so glad I wasn’t the only one on the verge of swooning. The man was truly a specimen. Banner cleared his throat, and I snapped my attention back over to the man who had arguably been the first crush of my science geeky heart.

“What brings you here, Thor?” he asked. Thor turned back to him and smiled his ridiculous, large, beautiful smile.

“I had need to speak to Tony. I’d not realized it was a celebration, or I would have come tomorrow. Twas not urgent,” he explained. “And I am afraid I have chased Jane from her colleagues.” There was regret in his tone. Things were obviously over with them, not merely bumpy or awkward.

“He said twas,” I whispered to Angela. She stifled a giggle. I’m not sure why it was so amusing, other than that I had finished my second vodka. I’m not sure what her excuse was; I knew she hadn’t been drinking. “I hope we’ll get a chance to talk more about what you’re studying now, Dr. Banner.” I had to excuse myself before I made an idiot of myself in front of Dr. Banner and Thor. Angela followed me to the deck. I stretched out on a deck chair and looked up at the sky. Stark Tower was so high that it seemed to be above the smog of the city. There was still loads of light pollution, but I was reassured that the stars were the same in New York City as they were at home in Washington. We sat quietly for a few minutes.

“Thanks for being my sidekick, Angela,” I sighed. “I don’t know if I’d have made it through the afternoon, let alone this evening, without your assistance.”

“Well, like I said, it’s my job. But paycheque aside, you’re alright, Ella,” she chuckled.

“I’m glad you think so. I don’t know if I can afford Stark wages to keep you as a friend.” Across the deck something caught my eye, and I slipped off my shoes to walk over to it. Angela must have seen it too because she followed curiously. It was the biggest damn hammer I’ve ever seen in my life, just sitting on a low table beside the pool. It was fancy, tooled with knotwork. I ran my hand over it. I wasn’t sure what it was made of. It had the warm feel of vibranium, but it almost seemed to hum under my hand. I slid my hand up the leather wrapped handle. The grip was comfortable. I squeezed the handle, and felt the give of the leather wrap against my hand.

“I don’t know if you should be playing with that, Ella,” Angela warned.

“What do you suppose it is? It feels like it’s got more of a purpose than just a giant paperweight, or decoration,” I thought out loud, flexing my fingers along the handle. It felt like it needed to be held. I might not be describing that properly, but it was almost like it spoke to me. Which clearly suggested I’d had too much to drink.

“I haven’t seen it before, but I don’t get up into this part of the tower much. Is it heavy? Maybe it’s a prop or a prototype or some sort,” Angela shrugged. I adjusted my grip on the handle and prepared myself to lift it, assuming it would be ridiculously heavy. I was surprised when after a slight tug of resistance, I was able to heft the thing in the air. The air around us crackled with static, and suddenly a shock ran through my body, from the hand that was holding the hammer through to my feet. Everything around me slowed down, almost like slow motion in the movies. I looked up at Angela and saw Thor and Dr. Banner running towards us over her shoulder. Thor was reaching out, his mouth forming some kind of words, but I couldn’t hear them. I felt the hammer tug out of my hand and it flew away from me. The electricity left my body and I collapsed on the pool deck.

“What the actual fuck?” I muttered before blackness overtook my thoughts.

#bruce banner x OFC

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sheerfreesia007 · 4 years

Text

Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 41)

Title: Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 41)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 3,934

Warnings: Smut, Breeding Kink

Tags: @synystersilenceinblacknwhite, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @randomness501, @sevvysaurus, @paryl, @fioccodineveautunnale, @talesfromtheguild

Author Notes: 4/4 of the Holiday arc! Holiday Smut! I know, I know I said we would meet Jack’s family in this and I had thoughts of describing his family more but I wanted to focus more on the women in his family.

Gif Credit: Pinterest

You stared in awe as the sprawling farmhouse came into view. There was a long winding gravel drive from the main road leading all the way to a large two story farmhouse that was lit with warm yellow lights from inside and outside. You were speechless as the taxi cab pulled up on the driveway that had an odd assortment of trucks and cars parked on it. The driver parked the taxi and got out to open the trunk and pull out your bags.

You took in a deep breath of fresh air as you exited the taxi and turned to the driver smiling warmly. Traveling was exhausting and you were so grateful that this taxi driver had been willing to drive all the way from the airport to Jack’s family’s farmhouse. You handed the driver forty dollars for a tip and he thanked you animatedly as he handed you your duffle and rolling suitcase.

“Thank you kindly miss.” He said a deep southern drawl and you nodded your head.

“I’m just grateful you were willing to come all the way out here. So thank you very much.” You explained.

“Oh I don’t mind I know the Daniels family they’re a good bunch if a little rowdy.” He said easily.

“I can only imagine if they’re anything like Jack.” You said teasingly and the man laughed brightly.

“So you’re Jack’s girl that I keep hearing about?” he questioned lightly and you blushed lightly at his words. “They’re all very eager to meet you. Just don’t let them scare you away they’re harmless.”

“Oh well thank you I’ll make sure to remember that.” You laughed softly as you looked back the large house, you could see a shadow in one of the first windows and then suddenly there was a flurry of motion at the window. You watched as more shadows passed across the windows leading to the front door that was opened widely with a small elderly woman bursting out with Jack following on her heels quickly. “Thank you again you have a good holiday.” You said warmly to the driver as you began your trek up the driveway as you saw Jack making his way over to you hurriedly.

“Happy Holidays darlin’.” Jack said warmly as you dropped your duffle bag and suitcase and embraced in a tight hug. Jack wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and held you close to his body as he dipped down to press a kiss your neck. “Thank goodness you’re here.” He husked out into your ear. You laughed brightly as you pulled your head back to look into his eyes.

“Aww what’s the matter honey? Miss me that much?” you asked teasingly and he glared at your teasing. He then smiled brightly down at you and gave you a kiss to your lips. You moved to deepen it but Jack pulled away grimacing softly.

“They’re all watching.” He said softly as he tilted his head to the window. Your eyes darted over and you smiled as you watched the curtains at the window flutter shut. “Besides the biggest instigator of the family is still waiting at the front door.” You nodded as you pulled away and moved to your luggage but Jack beat you to it easily scooping it up in his hands while he slung an arm around your shoulder. “How was your flight?” he asked

“Tiring but fine.” You answered easily as Jack led you over to the woman standing on the front porch waiting for the two of you. She was an elderly woman who had shocking white hair pulled up and away from her face. She was wearing a pretty red dress with a scoop neckline that stopped at her knees and a Christmas themed apron over it. She had the same chocolate brown eyes that Jack had and a warm bright smile on her face.

“Finally!” she exclaimed happily as she opened her arms to you as you got closer. You pulled away from Jack and walked into her arms where she hugged you tightly and your wrapped your arms around her firmly. “Oh she��s a good hugger.” The woman told Jack over your shoulder and you laughed out delighted. She pulled away and cupped your elbows to keep you close as she studied. “Now let me good look at the woman that’s captured my grandson’s attention.”

“Memaw.” Jack said in warning tone and you smiled widely at her. “She’s tired and has been traveling all day to get here can we not bombard her?”

“Oh Jack hush.” She admonished him and he instantly grew quiet to your surprise. “I just want to get a good look at her before everyone else meets her. Besides this is the first time in a very long time that you have brought someone home to visit.” She explained easily as she tucked her arm into and began turning to the front door. “Now don’t let the others scare you they’re a bit much but they’re good people.”

“Oh I’m sure it’ll be fine.” You said easily as you walked into the front door.

“Famous last words.” You heard Jack say from behind you as you entered into his family home.

You sat on the queen sized bed as Jack set your duffle bag and suitcase in the corner of the room for you to unpack later before bed. He came to stand in between your open legs and cupped the sides of your face smiling affectionately down at you. Pulling you to him he kissed your lips deeply and you groaned softly.

“I’ve been waiting forever to do that.” He husked against your lips and you smiled keeping your eyes closed. It had been at least an hour since you arrived and you felt like you must’ve met Jack’s entire family within that time. “You look tired, do you want to take a nap before dinner?” he asked softly as he pressed brief chaste kisses to your lips teasing you.

“Hmm, no way I’m pretty sure your grandma would think me weak for taking a nap.” You responded laughing lightly.

“She would not. She knows we’re all a lot to take in she wouldn’t hold it against you.” He assured softly as he pressed a long kiss to your lips.

“Liar.” You whispered against his mouth and gripped his shirt holding him tight to you so you could sweep your tongue against his bottom lip making him groan as he opened his mouth to you. You effortlessly flicked your tongue in Jack’s mouth and gripped his shirt tighter in your hands. “I missed you so much.” You whispered against his mouth when you pulled away.

“Me too darlin’. Me too.” He whispered back before he kissed you deeply once more. “How was your visit with your Dad?” he asked softly as the two of you pulled away and you began unpacking your luggage.

“It was alright I got one good day with him so that’s a plus.” You responded as Jack helped guide you around the room the two of you would be staying in. He watched as you pulled out a knee length hunter green dress from your suitcase and hung it up in the closet and crowded behind you.

“That’s good, I’m glad you got to celebrate with him. That dress is going to look so good on my floor.” He said into your ear as he bent his head down and began kissing up and down your neck. You moaned softly as you tilted your head back onto his shoulder giving him more access to your neck. You both stood there for a few more minutes just leaning into each other enjoying being close to each other again.

Just then you both heard the sound of loud footsteps running up the stairs and then a flurry of loud knocks sounded at the door.

“Uncle Jack! Daddy said to stop holding your girlfriend hostage we want her to come help with cookies!” came the shout of Jack’s youngest niece. You chuckled softly as you heard her than running back downstairs.

“C’mon I’m being summoned to bake cookies.” You said as you patted his arms that were wrapped low around your waist. Jack groaned softly and shook his head.

“No you’re my girlfriend I get to keep you.” He said softly in a childish tone and you laughed softly before turning in his arms. You kissed him deeply and harshly stealing his breath from him. When you pulled away the two of you were both panting.

“Of course you get to keep but you have to share with your family right now.” You assured him as you pulled out of his arms and he groaned again following you dejectedly to the bedroom door as you laughed softly.

The sound of raucous teasing floated in from the dinning room where most of the men of the Daniels family sat playing a game of poker as the women were in the kitchen baking as the kids bounced from room to room. The elders of the family were in the living room watching a movie except for Jack’s Memaw who had insisted that you start calling her that as well. You pulled another tray of sugar cookies from the stove and began sliding them onto the cooling rack on the large island of the kitchen. Jack’s sister and sister in law were in charge of decorating the enormous amount of cookies that you all were baking. His mom and Memaw were in charge of mixing the ingredients and you were in charge of the stove which you were more than happy about as you felt your day of traveling starting to catch up with you.

“So tell us dear when did you know that you were in love with our Jack?” asked Memaw as she looked up from the bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough with a smirk that reminded you immediately of Jack. His mom tried to chastise her mother for being so bold but you shook your head laughing softly.

“It’s fine.” You said easily to Jack’s mom. “I knew I’d get at least one interrogation when I agreed to come here. I’d be disappointed if I didn’t.” you explained. You turned back to Memaw smirking right back at her and watched as her eyes twinkled with amusement and admiration. “As for your question it kind of snuck up on me. I was attracted to Jack when I first met him a couple of years ago at work but he didn’t know who I was back then, I worked in the lab and he didn’t come down there very often. It wasn’t until I was promoted that I was on his radar.” You explained easily as you left out details of your and Jack’s work.

“So you noticed him first?” asked Jack’s sister and you turned to her with a nod of your head. “Well isn’t that par for the course with us Daniels, huh Ma?” she asked laughing knowingly.

“Oh of course. Every Daniels member has always been the last to fall in love with their partners.” Jack’s mom explained to you making you laugh with a knowing nod.

“Sounds about right.” You agreed and the women all laughed around you.

“That man is going to marry you.” Memaw said softly and you turned to her sharply. “Oh don’t look at me like that he is. You can see it in his eyes.” You shook your head softly as a smile creeped up onto your lips. Jack had only mentioned marriage once in a teasing manner and the two of you had been more apart than together for your relationship that it was slow moving which you were not unhappy about. You just didn’t know if marriage was something that Jack was serious about.

“We will see.” You said smiling at her.

“She’s right though. Ever since you’ve gotten here he’s always watching you when you’re not looking and it’s such a soft look. And Jack doesn’t soft looks.” Said Jack’s sister in law and the group of you laughed again at her words.

“I love the man so I’m willing to wait.” You said shrugging and the women smiled at you with soft sighs.

“Well he can’t wait too long. I want more great grandchildren.” Memaw said loudly making you, Jack’s sister and sister in law to burst into laughter while his mom chastised her loudly. “Oh hush sweetheart I’m old enough that I can get away with saying those things. Here dear why don’t you go refresh the drinks for the poker game. Give Jack some sugar and luck.” Memaw said softly as she handed you a few beer bottles from the fridge.

“Well I can see when you’re trying to get rid of me.” You teased and the women laughed again as you walked out into the dining room where Jack sat with one of his nephews on his knee while he played poker. You stopped in your tracks at the image and felt your stomach bottom out. Jack was leaning forward to whisper in his nephew’s ear explaining his cards to the young boy and your mind immediately began racing with images of Jack with your children. Your heart clenched in your chest and you sucked in a breath. Jack heard you and looked up in concern but when he saw you standing there staring at him with such an intense look on your face holding the beer bottles he felt his whole body heat with desire. You were looking at him like he was the only man in the room and he could feel his arousal start to build in the pit of his stomach.

His eyes tracked you as you moved around the table refreshing the beers that all the men were drinking. You joked and laughed easily with the men as you moved looking as if you had always a part of the family and that thought made Jack’s heart twist in his chest. You belonged here with his family and Jack felt the desire to give you that grow in his chest. When you came over to stand beside him he tilted his head up to look at you as he felt your hand softly rub his back. You smiled down at him and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, he nearly groaned when he felt your tongue quickly lick at his lips before you pulled away.

“Win this hand and you’ll win something else later tonight.” You whispered softly in his ear and Jack had to silently stare at you as desire coursed through him. You winked and walked back into the kitchen.

“Alright Ryder you ready to win yer Daddy’s money?” Jack asked softly to the little boy in his lap.

“Sure am Uncle Jack.” Ryder said happily as he grinned across the table at his dad.

It was hours later and you were heading up the stairs tiredly after helping clean up the kitchen and dining room. You were beat after traveling all day and then spending the late afternoon to evening with Jack’s family. As you opened the door for the bedroom you were instantly yanked into the room and shoved against the door. Jack’s lips were dragging open mouthed kisses against your neck and his mustache tickled underneath your jaw.

“Jack!” you gasped out softly as he rested his weight on you.

“I won darlin’. Hell I won the whole damn game after your promise downstairs.” Jack panted out softly as he ground his hips into yours. Your arms came up to wrap around his neck and he nuzzled farther into your neck. “So what’s my prize?” he asks in a low gravel making you shiver against him.

“It’s gotta be within reason your family is sleeping not far from us.” You pant softly as you feel his lips suck open mouth kisses into your flesh. “Jack.” You gasp softly as his thigh comes up to press in between your legs.

“Slow and lazy or hard and fast?” he questions in your ear as his hands clasp your hips tightly dragging you up onto his thigh.

“If we do slow and lazy I might pass out, I’m so tired.” You say softly as you clench your thighs around his.

“Hard and fast it is then.” He responds easily as he twirls you away from him and the door to face the bed. His fingers are already tugging your shirt up and over your head as your own come to the waistband of your jeans undoing them quickly. Jack groans lowly as he sees your matching black lace set that you were hiding under your clothes and hurriedly begins unbuttoning his red plaid shirt. You move closer and begin undoing his belt buckle and quickly slide down his zipper. Before you can slide your hand in his underwear Jack has to turned around to the bed again. His larger hands are gripping yours loosely as he guides them to the tall bed post. “Keep your hands here darlin’ no touching tonight.” He demands lowly and you shift with a soft whimper.

Jack’s hands trail from your own over your arms to your shoulders where he snaps one of your bra straps against your skin making you hiss in pleasure. They then travel down your back to the clasp which is quickly undone and your breasts drop slightly in the black lace. Jack tugs one of your elbows up and he slides it out of the bra strap before replacing it back on the bed post. Stepping closer and pressing his front to your back he repeats the action with your other arm before dropping your bra to floor. You’re panting with desire at his soft touches and anticipation to him finally touching you like you want him to.

“So tell me what you were thinking about when you came into the dining room earlier. You looked like you could eat me alive with those sinful eyes darlin’.” He said softly as his hands suddenly cupped and gripped your breasts tightly in his hands. You threw your head back to rest against his shoulder with a low whine and your hips shifting back towards him. “Uh-uh darlin’. Tell me.” He demands as his hands tweak your nipples in his fingers. You’re panting as your head falls forward and your head is growing cloudy with desire.

“I-I oh Jack.” You gasp out softly as the feel of his hands becomes too much for you. Suddenly his hands are gone and you’re gasping.

“Tell me.” He demands again and you feel his fingers plucking at the waistband of your underwear.

“You looked so g-good with your nephew in your lap. It-it made me think about if we had kids.” You pant out and try shifting back against him. Jack’s groan is low, loud and long as his hands flex on your hips. You hear a ripping sound and suddenly you’re bare. “Jack!” you hissed softly at him.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He grunts out as you hear him shedding his own underwear before he’s pressing close to your back and you feel his cock slide in between your ass cheeks. You whimper softly and press back against him. “So you want to have my children is that darlin’?” he asks in a deep tone and one of his hands comes to gather a handful of your hair and drag your head back. You’re gasping for air with the movement and then suddenly he’s slamming into you. Your grip on the bedpost tightens as Jack begins to pound into you from behind. “You want to get you pregnant is that it?” he drawls out lowly and you’re keening soft and high using the bed post to push off from and thrust back against him.

The heat in your body is building quickly and your muscles are clenching tightly. You shift your feet further apart to ground yourself as Jack dips his hips and thrusts harshly up. Your breath is being dragged out of you and sweat is beading at your forehead and rolling in between your shoulder blades.

“Please.” You gasp out softly needing Jack to do something more than pounding into you. You feel his hand in your hair disentangle and ghost down your back.

“Please what darlin’? Tell me and I’ll give you everything.” Jack pants out. Your heart clenches in your chest and you know full and well that he speaks the truth. This man would give you everything he can if only you asked.

“Please Jack. Put a baby in me.” You gasp softly and fling your head back as his cock drags against your walls just right. “Please, oh please.” You gasp out, your fingers clenching so hard around the bed post that they start to cramp. Jack’s growling lowly and wrapping an arm around your waist so his fingers can flick against your clit as he begins to thrust harder into you.

“Gonna fuck you so good darlin’. Gonna put a baby in you tonight. You want that darlin’? You wanna have my baby?” he pants into your ear and begins to grind his hips against your ass as his fingers expertly circle your clit.

“Yes please, oh please. Fuck.” You pant and then your mouth is dropping open in a silent scream as your orgasm slams into you taking you by surprise. Your walls clamp down on Jack’s cock and he’s burying his nose into your neck and moaning lowly against your skin.

“Fuck darlin’, take it. Take it all.” He gasps out into your skin and you feel his orgasm release into you making you gasp for air.

There’s a ringing in your ear and it takes you quite a bit of time to come back to earth after that high. You’re still holding onto the bedpost but your fingers are cramped and starting to hurt, not to mention all of your muscles are cramping. Jack’s hands come up to loosely cup your hands and you snuggle back into his chest so that he arms cradle you. He manages to pry your hands from around the bed post and sweeps you up into his arms cuddling you close to his chest. He gently lays you down on the bed and moves to the ensuite bathroom. Coming back into the room you rolled your head over to see that he had brought out a damp wash cloth that he used to clean you up and throwing it into the hamper in the corner of the room. When he came back to the bed and climbed in you snuggled up close to him laying your head on his chest and just listening to him breathing.

“So you want to have my children huh?” he asked softly and you let out a soft chuckle.

“Eventually if that’s where this is leading.” You answered him. “It just hit me when I saw you with Ryder. You would be a great dad.” You explained as you nuzzled your nose into his chest taking in his scent.

“And you would make a great mom.” He murmured to you as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You hummed low in your throat as sleep began to overtake you quickly.

“Love you Jack.” You slurred out with a smile.

“Love you too darlin’. Happy Holidays.” He said softly and the only answer he got was a soft snore from you that made a wide grin form on his face.

#My writing #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #fallin' all in you #kingsman the golden circle

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secondhand-trash · 4 years

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Harvest Moon: Plus Ultra!- A New Beginning

A/N: finally starting this series for real and I’m so pumped!!

Description: When you found yourself barely able to breathe amidst the mundane routine that you were stuck in, a letter from your grandparent’s semed to be the answer to your call for change. As you left everything you knew behind, it was time for a new beginning in a faraway town.

Word count: 2169

Tag list (dm to be added to the general tag list or to be tagged in a certain character’s arc):

@redbeanteax @mrsreina @blu-that-one-nerd @lady-bakuhoe @sparkncharge @todobunhon

(back to the home screen of Harvest Moon: Plus Ultra!)

Dear (y/n):

Hello, we hope that you are doing well!

It has been a while since you last visited the ranch and many things had happened. Don’t worry, the large fields at the front of the house that you used to love running through is still here and Henry the chicken is still well and alive. All the animals are doing great in face and the crops are growing as nicely as ever.

Everything is going fine but we are growing old and we feel like it is harder and harder for us to carry on with the chores of running the farm as each day goes by. A month after we write this letter to you, we would be retired from all the work and set off on a trip across the world to all the places we have wanted to visit but never had the time to.

It was a tough decision but after thinking of the many possibilities together, we decided that this is for the best. The only thing left for us to handle is the future of the ranch. We thought about selling it but after spending so much effort and such a long time on these grounds, it pains us to think that this place that is so tied in to many of our wonderful memories would be gone.

While being on the phone with your mom, she told us that you were starting to feel tried of your life in the city and the stress is starting to weight on you. Although we get that this is a huge decision, but how would you feel about taking over the ranch after we retire? You used to like being around the farm so much and even though running it on your own might be tough work, we feel like the farm would be safe in your hands. We know that this is a lot to ask of you, but we support whatever decision you make and we hope to hear from you soon.

Take care of yourself, a healthy body is the greatest asset you will ever have. Don’t forget to go to bed early and drink enough water!

Love,

Grandma and grandpa

Folding the letter in half along the neat edges that you had opened and folded back together for countless times, you put it back into your bag and sighed. You had been on the bus for what felt like an entire lifetime but you were still nowhere near your destination. There was nothing to see when you looked out of the window, just endless trees and greenery that didn’t seem to have a stop to it. The car went smoothly ahead on the road, with occasional bumps and turns as you got further and further away from the city.

The city. It had yet to settle in your mind completely that you were actually leaving that place. Not a vacation, not a trip that you had to go back from. You were leaving, and there was no turning back. You could still see the concrete walls and the busy streets at the start of the ride, but the plain view of nothing but green from where you were now was a huge contrast for what you were still living amongst merely hours ago.

The city was bustling and filled with adventures around every corner but in all honesty, you were tired of it. Your apartment was a box and the cubicle you spent most of your time in was no better. Always going from one place to another, with no purpose but to make ends meet. You wouldn’t not die without your job but you did not want it either. You were not alive but you simply weren’t dead either. It was boring, and the last bit of passion inside of you kept screaming at you to break out of the cycle that you were trapped in but you simply did not know how.

That was when the letter came and it was like seeing a ray of light shining through the windows of your 80 sqm apartment. Your initial reaction when you held the envelope in your hand was to just stand there in shock. You could not believe that your grandparents were finally retiring. From what you remembered, it was like they had more energy and liveliness than everyone of your family who were way younger than them. It was a true call from reality to think that they were getting old too. You also thought of the ranch that they pour their heart and soul into managing. You remembered how you used to beg them to let you help with the work around the farm whenever you visited them as a child.

It had been way too long since you had been around the fields. You still remembered the feeling of being covered in sweat and dirt but still got back to the house with nothing but satisfaction in your chest. The smell of grass in the morning as you rode on the back of a horse and the things you had learnt through taking care of all the animals still fresh in your head.

That was how you took probably the biggest risk in your life and say yes to their offer. Now you were on the bus to Yuuei Town, days after you quitted your job and headed for a new start in somewhere you had never been to since you were still in middle school.

It was horrifying to think of to say the least. But you had made your decision and there was no turning back. This was your one chance of getting a whole new life and you would be damned if you didn’t take it. Many things could happen, and a lot of them were far from being good, but you were excited for your new beginning.

The sudden break of the car let out a sharp squeak from the tires and your body fell forward as it hit a stop. You looked out to see that you were no longer surrounded by trees but under the open sky, the tiny sign of the bus stop being the only thing man-made you had seen in a while.

“Yuuei Town”

Quickly getting your many luggage and your bags, you got off the bus and took a deep breath. Cold air filled your lungs and you felt alive once again. It had been too long since you had last gone anywhere remotely rural, even the air felt different. You did not quite remember which way was the correct one to your grandparent’s- well, perhaps you should call it your ranch from now on but you still tried your best to go on the right road with the little instruction that you were given.

You weren’t sure if they had renovated the roads or your childhood memories had betrayed you, but it took way longer than what you expected and a lot of going back after realising that you made the wrong turn for you to finally get to where you were supposed to be.

It brought you a sense of comfort to see that the ranch was still the same as what you remembered it as. The farmhouse was in a distance with the fields being in front and the barns for the animals were at the back. It had been a while to say the least, but as you walked past the wooden fences it was like going home after a long journey away.

The door to the farmhouse was unlocked and with a light push, you poked your head inside. Your grandparents had already left for their first destination by the time you arrived, as seen by how all the furniture were covered by a white plastic cover. Sliding a finger along the window frame, you scrunched your face together when you saw just how much dust was covering everything. It would take a long while for you to clean everything up, you sighed as you put your luggage down onto the floor.

You didn’t even know where to start with all that. Feeling absolutely clueless as you faced the lifeless house, the anxiety you had regarding this decision was starting to appear once more. You were on your own now, with no one to help you and no one to go to if you come across any trouble. It would take you days just to get everything settled down and not to mention getting the hang on how to actually get everything running...

You were scared, and you wondered if you really made the right decision.

It was as if the universe wanted to tell you to stop worrying when you heard a knock at the door. Opening the door, you were face-to-face, actually no he was nowhere near being your eye level, with a white mouse in full business attire. He(?) had a soft smile on his face and behind him was a man with stacks of files on his hands and a pair of rectangular glasses sat neatly on the bridge of his nose alongside with a girl who was very, very pink from head to bottom.

“Hello! You must be the new owner of the ranch, your grandparents told me about you before they left and I decided to come welcome you.” The mouse reached his hand out, “I’m Nezu, the mayor of this town. I will be in the Town’s office if you need anything.”

Shaking Mayor Nezu’s extended hand, you did not have much time to process the fact that the town’s mayor was a mouse before he continued. “This is Iida kun who is the secretary of the office,” the man behind him bowed and you did the same in response in absolutely panick at how formal he was, “and this is Ahisdo san who runs the stable in town.”

The girl grabbed your hand and beamed, “Nice to meet you but Ashido is too formal, you can call me Mina!”

“Ashido san! You are going to intimate them!”

You managed a chuckle at the exchange between the two people. Mayor Nezu cleared his throat to stop them from rambling and he continued. “I’m sure that there’s a lot you have to do to settle down. Yuuei Town is not very big but you can get everything you need in the town square. Please do get to know everyone around when you have time, everyone is very friendly and I’m sure they look forward to meeting you! I brought Iida kun and Ashido san here with me today so they can help you with some basics on how to get around the farm and other things you should know...”

They taught gave you all the information you needed about the town and tips on how to run the farm. It was a lot to take it and your mind was so close to wandering away only to be pulled back at the last second on several occasions. After what seemed like hours of talk with phrases that you had barely heard of before, countless bickering between Iida and Mina, and several moments where you wonder if mice can kill when you sensed the rising danger in Nezu’s tiny eyes as the two argued, they finally left but not without telling you that you were always welcomed to go to them for help if you need anything. Mina also very eagerly offered to take you to the best (and only) restaurant for lunch next week as Iida yelled at her to keep up.

Like that, they were gone and you were alone once more. It was weird to hear just how silent the house was when seconds ago it was filled with people talking. You definitely felt better when they were around but now that it was just you, you were starting to feel lost once again.

This would not do, you had to start somewhere. Your searching eyes landed on the same window frame you touched when you first entered the room. This place could use some ventilation. Taking a deep breath as if you had decided something, you pushed the windows open.

The evening breeze hit your face and you looked out to see that the sun was setting. Everything you saw was under the lovely golden hue of the descending sun. Leaning onto the wooden frame, the last bit of warmth landed on your face, creating a perfect balance with the soft wind. The grass moved along with the movement of the wind and its ruzzling passed into your ear.

From some reason, for no good reason at all, the sight in front of you gave you the sudden relieve that everything would be okay.

Everything would turn out to be okay.

Leaning back, you turned around to look at the mess that was your new home and rolled your sleeves up for first of the many days of hard work ahead.

#bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #mha imagines #mha imagine #mha x reader #harvest moon au

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its-starker15 · 4 years

Text

Peter Parker's Journey with Makeup!!

Pt 1.

Peter likes wearing May's make up, however he does it in secret. He still a beginner and he doesn't know how she will react. May has been amazing when he came out to her, but theres a nagging feeling that she will be disgusted. One day May finds Peter applying lipstick in her bathroom, Peter is embarrassed, but May being the sweetheart that she is tells him that she knew that he was wearing her make up. So brings a small Ulta bag that she had under her bed with a few stuff for Peter. Peter breaks down and covers her in kisses. After that Peter wears it more often, until it's is an everyday occurrence. He learned that people in school don't really care, sure at first every one was surprised, but after a few days they didn't care. Even Flash told him he looked good. His confidence was an all time high. However he isn't confident enough to wear it in front of Tony. So every time he goes to the tower he takes it off in the car. Happy knows not to tell anything to Tony after he first saw him when he went to his house to take May out on a date. So he always carries some wipes in his car.

One Saturday morning while Peter, Mj and Ned where playing some uno cards, Tony calls Peter for an Avengers emergency, Peter doesn't think twice before donning his suit and swinging off to Tony. After they go back to the Stark tower and Peter takes his mask off, completely forgetting that he is wearing a bit of make up. Tony just stares course he can't believe how cute Peter looks, he always looks cute, but now. There was something stirring inside if Tony that he couldn't explain. Peter doesn't understand why he is staring, but then he remembers. He is mortified. He can feel his eyes burning so he puts his mask on and runs of the helipad. So he swing his way back to May's, trowing his make up under the bed in a trash bag along with his Spidey suit and hids under the covers. May find him in the same place asleep many hours later, with mascara stain face and blotchy face. May doesn't know what happened but cleans his face with some make up wipes and stays with him until the next day.

Peter wakes up by a thumping sound, when he tries to move he feels a weight on top of his stomach where Peter finds May sleeping on him. He moves as fast as he can without distrurbing May, how she hasn't woken up by the knocking on the door he doesn't know. He looks at himself through the mirror expecting black trails down his cheek but any make up that he supposed to have was clean off. A small smile graces his cheeks. He runs and puts the first pants that he can find as the knocking gets more frantic. The thumping gets even louder accompanied by someone calling his name. He recognizes the voice, but he doesn't want to believe it's him, he is probably disgusted with him. But a darker part of him tells him is him, that he is here to fire him. Cause why would he work with a disgusting thin like him. He makes his way to the door, when his Spidey senses makes the base off his skull buzz. He jumps back on instincts, suddenly the doors slam open, falling off his it's base, on the other side is Tony blaster on hand. When they lock eyes the worry lines on Tony's face melt away when he sees Peter in his Hello Kitty pajamas. Tony strides up to Peter and gives him the biggest hug, squeezing tight the sleepy boy in his arms. Peter is shock, sure him and Tony have hug before, but can count them on one of his hands fingers still free. He doesn't know what to do, why is Tony hugging him? Isn't he disgusted with him?

Tony takes a step back, but still but still maintaining two hands on his shoulders. He looks at Peter confuse face, his eyes red as if he fell asleep crying. Tony knowing Peter he probably did. Even though he is feeling relieved that Peter is okay, he gets serious. "Peter I have been calling you all morning!! You and May both, and neither of you answer me!" He tells Peter a small frown forming in his face. Peters face falls, a look of regret falls present of his face. " Sorry Mr, Stark. I usually have my phone on vibrate, and May's, well I don't know about May's. But I'm sorry for worrying you." Tony melts a little bit at the younger mans apology. "Don't worry Peter, just don't run away like that ever again. You hear me young man??" Tony advises. He was worry sick when he couldn't contact both of them.

Peter being reminded of his actions of the day before chimes away from Tony hands, suddenly self conscious of his shirtless torso. "I'm sorry for yesterday, you didn't need to see my disgusting self like that" Peter apologize, red coloring face traveling to his ears down to his chest, eyes burning. Tony face falls and rapidly tries to reassure the young man in front of him. " Oh, no, no, no nonononooo! Hey Peter I don't think you are disgusting!! No actually is the other way around. You looked beautiful, you looked more confident lately. Do you wanna know why?" Peter nods shyly " it's because you are being true to yourself," Tony licks his chapped lips "and Peter I'm so proud of you because of it" at the mention of this words Peters dams breaks, tears falling unabashedly. Tony takes Peter in his arms, hugging him tight against his chest. Peter hugs him back this time the soft hum of the arc reactor against his ears is comforting.

"Finally you made up" May's voice surprised them, making them break the hug. "Hi-uumm hi May, Morning" Tony greets May trying to act as if nothing just happened. Then a loud crash startles the trio. They all look back to see that the door had completely fallen off the frame. "So donut??" A sheepish Tony says as he holds up a box of donut from the coffee table where a second box of donuts was present with three cups of coffee.

A furious expression colors May's face as Tony tries to act as everything is fine. Peter makes his scape to his room to change and put some decent clothes. He has an internal fight with himself. Should he wear makeup or not. He was about to go out with none when he remembers Tony's words. So he plops down on the floor and gets the bag of under the bed. Peter prays softly under his breath hoping that they weren't broken. It seems that his "Parker luck" wasn't acting up this time since nothing was broken. He put everything is his night table and turns on the LED mirror that MJ gifted him. Peter doesn't have much since make up is an expensive hobby, but he has enough makeup that he can make do. He has to redo his eyebrows two times, and his eyeliner was even this time. Now it was for the trickiest step, the eyelashes. Every time he wears them there's a part of the lash that always stick up. He already worked that pair two times before. He knows is because they are from the dollar stores, but good lashes are around $20. He completely gives up on them and throws them away. They didn't work anymore. He throws a peachy lipgloss. He looked pretty, but he felt like his outfit was too boyish. A pair of scissors catches Peter eyes. An idea popped into his head, it could either go really good or bad. But there wasn't anytime to regret because Peter already took his white shirt off, and was cutting it up. He tries it once again, the white shirt that fell on top of his jean, now sit softly a little bit higher of his belly bottom. Peter felt pretty, he snag a blue flannel shirt on his way out of his room.

Peter tries to act as nonchalant as possible, but in reality in anxiety was through the roof. He didn't know how they would react. When May's eyes landed on Peter she smiled. "You look nice Peter" he blushes and sends a watery smile toward his beloved Aunt. That was just like her making him feel secure when he tries something new without make a big scene out of it. He kisses her cheeks as he snatches a donut from box. Biting into it, the sweet taste of vanilla filling his mouth. A small moan comes out. He expected Tony to make a comment, but when hi didn't he looks around to see him missing. Without even making his question vocal Mays already answering. " He down talking with the building manager, paying for the replacement of the frame and the door. Again." Peter snort, because it's true that wasn't the first time that Tony has kicked down the door. Actually this would have been Tony 5th time kicking or blasting the door down. " You know we should totally give him the keys to the apartment, he already has the code to enter the building, why not the door. " I confess to May , because knowing Tony this won't be the last time it happens. "Yeah but then he will be appearing out of nowhere, without any sense of privacy" she responds back taking a sip of coffee. Peter takes the last bite of second donut, and taking a third that by the looks of it is filled with Nutella.

Peterhear a pair of foots step coming our way, he concentrate on it's heart beat, recognizing it. "so I got good news and-" Tony says scaring May out if the chair making her almost fall if I hadn't step in and saved her. Peter make sure that May is okay before directing his attention to Tony. Tony's jaws is a little slack his eyes not moving from Peter's torso. Peter doesn't make a move to close his flannel, but he can feel his face heating up. Tony clears his clear history a little bit before smiling towards Peter and then starting again " as I was saying I got good news and bad news" May has a face of confusion on his face before biting the bate. " What do you mean there's bad news?" Tony puts his more dashing smile "well the bad news is that he kicked you out" Peter lost his breath at that. He looked at may and saw her face ghostly white. Peter took her hand and made her sit down and fetching her some water, Peter looked at her at Tony, but Tony was smiling. Why was he smiling they just got kicked out and he was smiling. Anger was bubbling at his stomach, Peter was about to lash out at Tony when he was interrupt by the cause of his anger. "But the good news is that I just bought the apartment from him. It took a little bit of convincing, but by the low price of 600 thousand dollars the building is mine!" Tony finished with a wicked grin.

"WHAT?!!!!" Both Pete and May screamed.

To be continued...

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audreycritter · 5 years

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day six: dragged away dick grayson & bruce wayne general canon, Pre-N52 tw: drugging, blood, vomit

***

The moon cast pale gray light on the building spires and then the city was plunged into darkness by swiftly moving cloud cover. Nightwing glanced up, looking for a break in the inky sky, and saw miles of storm system spread out over the bay and moving in.

He’d been hoping the forecast would be off by a few hours, at least. No such luck.

At least Robin wasn’t out with him tonight. Damian still had a penchant for leaning into things that made him uncomfortable— habit or defense mechanism or both. If he was freezing in the rain, he’d insist on stay out longer than a normal patrol, just to prove that he could. Dick had spent more than one night as Batman surreptitiously finding ways to warm Damian up after a cold night, while the kid pretended he wasn’t visibly shivering.

Nightwing had been watching Gotham for five days now, and Damian had been out for three of those. Tonight, he’d insisted Damian stay in, and had left the cave to angry stomping going up the stairs into the house. He’d cool down, Dick knew, and probably crash and sleep within thirty minutes of furiously flinging himself into bed to sulk.

Five days of Bruce being undercover with hardly a word, and Damian was wired, on edge, and exhausted. Nightwing had that deep current of worry he always did when Bruce was out of contact, but that was undercover work, and he was used to it.

Overhead, the sky rumbled ominously. Nightwing leapt from the edge of the First National building and let the free fall carry him down ten stories before throwing a grapple line and curving into the arc of its catch. He landed in a roll and the second he was back on his feet, his comm beeped. He froze. That pattern, that tone— that was the emergency beacon signal.

“O,” he said, into the comm.

“Osborne and St. Mark,” she said, immediately. “It’s not Robin. A’s confirming now that he’s at home. It’s a warehouse, one of Roman Sionis’ frozen assets in federal holding. Should be empty.”

“I’ll be there in seven,” he said. “Cycle’s two blocks from me. Any visual?”

“I’ve got a camera a block down St. Mark’s that shows an empty lot. No in-building security online to use. Deploying a recon drone.” Oracle sounded purely businesslike, not a hint of stress present in her voice. Nightwing knew that meant she was masking, work-focused, and frustrated without enough information.

Nightwing made it to his parked and cloaked cycle in record time and ate up asphalt speeding through the streets as it started to rain.

“Heat scan shows three bodies inside,” Oracle said when he was close. “Hand to hand, one against two. One of the two down.”

Nightwing gunned the engine. He could see the warehouse now.

“Second is down,” Oracle said. “One man standing. Bottom floor.”

“I’m here,” Nightwing said.

The cycle skidded and squealed to a stop and Nightwing leapt from it and took the first double doors with a kick. He had a suspicion— a hope— who the one man left on his feet was, and there wasn’t much reach to proceed with caution or strategy at that point.

“You’ve got a car enroute,” Oracle said. “I’ve got A on standby for emergency response prep orders.”

The emergency beacon probably meant blood, and lots of it.

Nightwing went through the dark building at a dead sprint, frantically scanning for any sign of Bruce. The interior was lit with warming fluorescent lights, the faint hum above head a clue that they’d been turned on very recently. He rounded the abandoned machinery just in time to see a hunched figure stumble backward and fall.

“B!” Nightwing flew across the room on a burst of extra speed and slid to a stop on his knees in front of the sitting figure.

The ragged coat, the moth-eaten wool hat, the graying new beard, the colored contacts— all would have been remarkably effective disguises if he hadn’t already known who he was going to find. Bruce swayed, even sitting. There was blood trickling from his lip, and his pupils were blown.

Nightwing glanced up and down, hunting for seeping bloodstains. “B. What happened?”

“Drug,” Bruce slurred. “Organ...chop shop.”

The two men on the floor didn’t stir and Nightwing wished they would so he could kick them both in the teeth, and watch their faces while he did it. He put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder to steady him.

“Can you stand? O’s sending a car. We gotta get you back to the Manor.”

“No,” Bruce said, trying to shake his hand off. “No, not...Robin…”

“Robin’s fine, B,” Nightwing said, frowning.

Bruce twisted clumsily and vomited on the floor. It splattered one of the unconscious men. “No,” he said again, staring at the mess.

“He probably deserved that,�� Nightwing said.

“DN...din...A,” Bruce mumbled, tugging uselessly at the man’s zippered jacket. His fingers struggled to grasp the zipper pull while he leaned and Nightwing braced him and sat him back upright, tugging him a foot across the floor.

“Oof. You’re as heavy as a freighter, B. Nobody’s gonna run DNA here. Don’t move.” Nightwing patted the unconscious man’s face to check for response and whistled when there wasn’t even a groan. “Holy right hook, Batman. You knocked him out colder than Mr. Freeze. Listen, A’s going to be ready for us. Robin will be fine.”

“Drugs,” Bruce protested, sounding far more upset than he should have been. He didn’t usually let much seep into his tone, ever, so this was downright unsettling. “He’s...will...drugs scare ‘im.”

Nightwing went as still as a startled animal, and then slowly, he turned back to Bruce and crouched in front of him.

“B,” he said, softly. “Just what’d they give you, anyway? This Robin isn’t going to be upset like that.”

“No,” Bruce insisted, his head bobbing forward like he was having trouble controlling it. “No. Jay can’t...he’s...he’ll see...”

The comm beeped softly in his ear when he activated an open channel. “O, is the penthouse clear tonight? The big guy’s gonna need to sleep something off.”

“No janitorial scheduled. Back elevator’s still programmed with your access code.” There was a significant, but brief, pause. “He’s okay? A’s waiting.”

“The only blood out here isn’t his. He was drugged but he’s conscious. I will take that car, though. I don’t think he could stay on a cycle right now. Tell A I’ve got him and to keep Robin at home.”

“I’ll send Black Bat,” Oracle said. “Keep me updated.”

Nightwing glanced at the men and sighed. “Hold on, B.” He pulled ties out of his cuff pockets and rolled them both, tying their hands behind them. He’d call it in, or have Oracle do it, when they were far enough away, but at least they wouldn’t get too far or choke on their own puke if the police were slow.

“Is not...” Bruce said, his brow knitted in confusion. He blinked slowly and tried to focus on Nightwing. “Is not Jay anymore.”

“No, B,” Nightwing said quietly. “It’s not. Do you know what they gave you?”

“Somethin’...fuckin’..._strong_,” Bruce spat out, sounding profoundly annoyed. Nightwing grabbed his arm and counterpressured with the heels of his boots when he stood, and fortunately, Bruce cooperated. He leaned heavily on Nightwing as they walked, but he was managing his own feet well enough.

“Organ chop shop, huh,” Nightwing commented. “How long have you known? I’m guessing it wasn’t long before they drugged you, or they never would have gotten that close.”

“Drug me,” Bruce repeated, and his arm slung around Nightwing’s shoulders tightened.

“So you said,” Nightwing answered. “Here’s the car. Come on, in you go, and if you try to take the wheel from me or open the door while we’re driving, I’m going to knock you out for your own good.”

“Brat,” Bruce said. As soon as Nightwing closed the car door, he was tearing out the colored contacts and dropping them on the floor.

The ride to the penthouse was mostly silence that Nightwing filled with chatter. Bruce didn’t normally contribute much in the way of actual words, but the drugs disrupted his ability to grunt or move at the right times, so Nightwing felt a bit like he was talking to an actual brick wall. It made Dick uneasy, even knowing it was drugs, to feel like Bruce was beside him and very, very far away.

It took some maneuvering to get Bruce onto the elevator but they made it into the penthouse without incident. As soon as they were there, inside, with the door locked, Nightwing peeled off his mask and Bruce shrugged awkwardly out of the beaten coat and hat. He dropped them on the floor and stumbled into the living room, and past the couch.

“Wait, wait up,” Dick called, hopping on one foot and then the other as he tugged off the suit boots. He left them on the floor and followed Bruce as he bumped into one item after another like some sort of human pinball, until he swerved hard left and into the bathroom.

Bruce hugged the toilet and puked more, while Nightwing stood beside him, feeling helpless, while wrestling the suit off of himself. He waited, hovering nearby, trying to decide what to do. Bruce’s shoulders stopped heaving and he leaned there, forehead on forearm, trembling faintly.

“Uh, I’m gonna, I’m gonna grab some water and some clothes for both of us,” Dick said. “I’ll be right back.”

It only took him under a minute but he still expected to see Bruce on the couch or climbing into a bed after. It was a surprise to find him still in the bathroom, shaking. Dick crouched down beside him, a worn t-shirt on, and offered the glass of water.

“Shit,” Bruce said, a word that was more low groan than speech.

“You were not kidding when you said they gave you something strong,” Dick said, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder after the glass was transferred.

Bruce gulped half of the water, set the glass down, and exhaled roughly. He staggered to his feet again. He braced himself on the wall and a desperate little gasp escaped him.

“B,” Dick said, unable to keep the alarm out of his voice. “Are you crying? Bruce. What did they do, exactly?”

“No,” Bruce said, stumbling past him. He went for the nearest bedroom and all but collapsed face down on the bed, turning his head just enough to get the pillow off his mouth and nose. There were tear streaks on his face and Dick climbed onto the bed next to him, his face pinched in worry.

“B. It’s me. You gotta tell me what’s going on. Is this just the drugs?”

“No,” Bruce said again, and a sob tore from his chest. It was the only one— he sucked in a lungful of air and sniffled, and rubbed at his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “S’not...something else.”

Dick elbowed him in the side, gently, and scooted closer. “Yeah? It is something else or it’s not?”

“Tired,” Bruce said, closing his eyes. He threw an arm around Dick and dragged him that much closer, trapping Dick in a warm cuddle. He buried his face in Dick’s hair and Dick relaxed incrementally, as the arm around him did.

“You big oaf,” Dick muttered fondly. “You could have just called and said you wanted to see me. You didn’t have to go get yourself kidnapped for your kidneys.”

Bruce snorted a laugh that ghosted across Dick’s scalp.

“Feeling more you yet? I should get you some more water,” Dick said, without struggling to get away. Bruce didn’t let him go.

“After sleep,” Bruce said, firmly. “Wanna. Sleep. S’been cold.”

“I bet you just loved that,” Dick said. “Undercover means no blankets and fancy mattress. Why don’t you ever do white collar stuff? Seems like that’d be a more comfy gig.”

“Batman...doesn’t…he doesn’t...I don’t..._need_ comfy,” Bruce managed, with several stops and starts. “M’fine.”

More of the tension slipped out of Dick’s muscles and he laughed, and laughed, until his eyes filled with tears. He pressed his face into Bruce’s shoulder and laughed harder at the grumpy little snort of indignation.

“Chum,” Bruce said, and that was enough for Dick to know. He started telling him about a case he’d worked the week before, involving smuggling swans, and one of them attacking him in the suit.

The non-verbal or quiet responses grew more Bruce-like and less slurred as Dick talked, until they were mostly normal. Dick felt the yawn Bruce tried to stifle and then the tell-tale deep breathing of Bruce truly out, the way he slept if he had been sedated.

Dick wriggled enough to fish the comm out of his pocket, where he’d left it.

“O,” he said. “He’s fine.”

“You done for the night?” Oracle asked.

Dick scrunched closer into Bruce’s furnace-like warmth and smiled at the pleased hum.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m staying in.”

#nightwing #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #whumptober #dragged away

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issabangtanfic · 5 years

Text

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 1)

Masterlist

Synopsis: When for once rich doesn’t rhyme with Christian Grey.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

“Hello, hello, hello, hello!” I sing, trotting inside the office, waving at whoever wants to see it, too much in a rush to actually stop and greet everybody.

“Someone’s late for a meeting.” Ava, our receptionist and secretary throws at me from behind her desk , making fun of me, as always. I mean, I’m quite good at making a show out of myself, I can’t blame her.

“I forgot my bloody portfolio!” I shout in explanation, running the best I can in those heels.

“Morning Jade.. Elijah..Sam..Anthony.” I say, passing their working stations. I reach my office and circle my desk, trying to find my portfolio amongst the pile of rubbish on my desk.

For someone who makes a living out of organising spaces, I sure know how to orginize my stuff. But I’m working on It. Or at least, I plan on doing that. I find my portfolio under a pile of calendars I didn’t know I had.

When I look up and prepare to leave, Ava is standing in my doorway with her usual plate of warm pancakes that she brings every morning.

“Hi. Oh, sorry I don’t have time.” I tell her, exiting my office. She gives me a knowing smile and just stands there, knowing I’ll end up taking one.

I take a few steps back.

“Just one.” I mumble, rolling up a pancake. “Bye!”

“Maya, honey.” I hear my boss and idol, Frédérique Meunier- Fred, call me. I stop dead in my tracks with the pancake in my mouth, knowing he’s about to scold me for being late. And today is not a good day to be late. I’m late precisely for the meeting I can’t be late for.

“Yes?” I say, slowly turning around to face him. He’s narrowing one eye at me. I know I have to come back from this meeting with a contract. The client’s rich, the project’s big, and he requested me specifically.

“Are you late for the Violet Mansion meeting?” He asks, but I’m pretty sure he knows the answer to his question. Or does he? I narrow my eyes back at hm, gauging.

“Define “late”.” I try. He sighs deeply.

“You’re lucky you’re talented. Go.” He mutters, rubbing his eyes in annoyance. Fred always tells me I make him age quicker than he’s supposed to. Today I see that. I take my cue and turn around, trotting out of the office just like I came in.

“She’s something.” I hear Fred mumble to himself, and I’m pretty sure it’s a compliment.

The mansion is located outside London. It’s a 30 minute drive from the city center, where our office is. I usually work in the city, being specialized in modern luxury. This is a first for me, and I’m excited. I hope me being 45 minutes late isn’t going to be a big deal.

There is a long driveway that leads to the house, with old but huge metal gates before it. Through the bars, I can see the Violet Mansion, which is not violet at all. The building is named like that because the original owners were lavender dealers and their backyard was famous for its lavish parties in a purple see of flowers. It’s been centuries, but the name sticks.

I don’t know who the current owner is though. I just have his name. Jeon Jungkook.

I ring the intercom.

“Name, please.” A male voice slurs from the other side of the line. How about Hello? Rude.

“Maya Fair. I’m the interior designer.” I reply. I wait for an answer, but there’s just a loud buzz, and the gates open slowly. I squeeze through when there is enough space for my mini and park my car in the driveway, at the bottom of the steps that lead to the porch.

I take a moment to appreciate the monster. This mansion is old and Italian, almost immaculate with fair stones. No one would believe this jewel sits right outside London. What I love about the exterior are the two stairways that lead to the porch.

I walk up the stairs and prepare to knock on the door, when it opens on its own. I meet a tall- taller than me - asian man. He’s wearing a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, the top buttons of it undone and letting appear a path of pearly white skin. His face is… a version of perfect. His sturdy brown eyes are pinned on me, his eyebrows furrowed and his whole being radiating with charisma.

The sight of him knocks the air out of my lungs. He is beautiful, in a dirty and disturbing way. He stares at me, clearly having no plans on greeting me first. I need to speak.

“Mr Jeon.” I try, though I could be wrong. He could be an employee, but my gut tells me he owns this place. He radiates with power. But it’s his eyes I’m mesmerized by.

“Hello, I’m Miss Fair. I’m terribly sorry for being late.” I manage to speak without my voice breaking, but I’m sure I’m betraying my mental state. I stretch my hand out, and I almost squeal when he takes it in his. He shakes my hand with his firm yet a bit clammy hand. They are warm. My heart starts to pound in my ears.

“I’m even sorrier Mrs Fair. I thought my PA had called you to tell you you didn’t need to come anymore.” He says, letting my hand go. He has an American accent.

“Oh. Are we postponing?”

“No, I gave the protect to someone else.” He counters, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers. That’s when I notice how well they fit him, and how they hang perfectly on his hips.

Wait what? My face falls, realisation sinking into my brain.

“Someone who was on time.” He adds when he sees my face. What?! He gave it to someone else just because I was late? He doesn’t even know what i could do with it! And he asked for me specifically. I have no way how he knows about me by the way.

For a second, I manage to forget his hypnotising looks and focus on my work and the situation at hand.

“But is he or she better than me?” I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest. “Maybe you should find out before appointing anybody for such an ambitious-”

“Punctuality,” He cuts me off, taking a step closer to me and stepping out onto the porch. My heart jumps in my throat as he gets closer. His aura engulfing me. “Mrs Fair, is something I demand from all my business partners. He lectures. I swallow, his words missing my brain. I can’t seem to look away from his face, and I start blushing when my eyes land on his mouth.

If I don’t stop right now, he’ll notice. I start remembering everything that happened this morning. I really thought this would be just like any other day, and here I am, shaking like a leaf in front of the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, who also happens to be an asshole and is about to get me fired.

“It’s professionalism, etiquette, politeness. I don’t work with people who waste my time.” He says, his tone icy. He speaks slowly but each of his words feel like a violent slap across the face.

“Even if they could do greater things than others?” I retort, because as hot as he is, I think it’s a stupid way of thinking. He narrows an eye at me, frowning. “Suddenly I’m quite curious as to how your business is doing, considering you like closing doors for petty reasons.”

“Petty.” He scoffs.

“Let me see this mansion and I’ll expose my ideas.” I propose. I’m in survival mode. His looks and the manliness he radiates with have made my head spin, but now I’m back in the game.

“With that attitude?” He scoffs at me again.

“It’s my ideas that I sell, not my attitude.” I retort. His head tips to the side and he takes a moment to study me, eyes searching on my face like lasers. They crack open my business armor, and as I try to hold his gaze, I suddenly see a point of something dangerous in his eyes. I’m the first one to look away.

“After you, miss Fair.” Mr Jeon grants me after what feels like an eternity, stepping aside to let me in the mansion. I take a few step in and wait for him to close the door, taking in the sight of this building.

If the exterior speaks in Italian, the interior screams…help. The interior is a mix of Rococo and Mediteranean designs, which looks… shocking.

The structure of the house is Italian, with white stones on the walls, wide arcs as openings, no doors, dark beige tiles on the floor, but the furniture is out of time. Everything is beautiful and pristine, bu it’s red, baroque and rococo. English rococo. English and Italy don’t go together very well. I’m hoping Mr Jeon is going to ask me to bring him to Italy with this one.

“My PA is giving a tour to the other designer.” I hear his loud voice way too close to me, enough to make me jump and snap me out of my reverie. I turn to look at him. “So you’re stuck with me for that part.”

“You called two designers for the same job?” I ask, quite shocked.

“I’ll compare your ideas, see which one I like the most.” He replies simply.

“You sure show little faith in me for someone who requested me by name.” I throw, hoping to get an explanation about that.

“My brother recommended you to me.” He declares, staring at me, then his eyes dip to my lips, and my chest, I think. “I see why, now.” He adds more quietly, before turning on his heels. My jaw drop as I stare at the back of his head. What a fucking boor!

“Excuse me?” I utter, prompting him to turn back around.

“I most certainly didn’t sleep with your brother, whoever that is.” I say categorically, glaring at him. He laughs at me, boyish and loud. His eyes get smaller and small wrinkles appear next to them, and he beams, his face radiating with light.

Now I know what a true beautiful smile is.

“Miss Fair will you please unravel your knickers,” He says to me “I was only talking about your attitude.” He explains. Oh.

“Since my brother loves to piss me off, I guess he recommended me someone just as infuriating as him.” He throws at me, and as negative as his words are, his tone, and the way his eyes twinkle, tell me it’s more of a compliment than an insult.

I dont’t dwell on it though, because I can’t think straight when he’s looking at me. I purse my lips.

“Great. Can we start discussing the project?” I prompt. His smile fades away.

“Would you like a drink?” He proposes. Actually, my mouth feels dry, because I have been internally dry-heaving ever since I laid my eyes on him.

“No, thank you.” I lie, just wanting to get on with the tour. Nodding quietly, Mr Jeon shows me upstairs and across the mansion.

“This, is where I might need you.” He says as we enter a totally different section of the building. As if another part had been attached to it like a piece of lego, the interior morphs from a patchwork of ancient style manor to a jewel of modern luxury and minimalism.

We step onto a mezzanine that gives onto a lounge area. I’m tempted to scream down the room, certain it’ll echo.

“I just bought this mansion, and it has this extension.” He explains. This place is immaculate.

Needing to keep a trace of that, I pull out my small camera from my bag and snap a quick picture. I lift my head to immortalize the diamond chandelier

“I want this,” I hear Mr Jeon say, and he puts his hand over my camera, lowering it. I look back at him, and he’s throwing daggers at me with his eyes.

”to become the whole mansion.” He finishes. I clear my throat.

“This?” I point towards the lounge area. He can’t be serious.

“Yes. I want more luminous rooms and pale colors. All that red really gets on my nerves.” He mutters, leaning against the guardrail of the mezzanine.

Why would he do that? White walls, really? Beige floor tiles? One leather sofa here and there? It looks beautiful, sure, but in its own genre. That’s not the spirit of the mansion. I thought he was going to ask me to bring back the mozzarella of this place, not turn it into a Dubai hotel.

“Why not just build another mansion?” I propose.

“Pardon?”

“You want to rob this building from its character, and that’s a shame.” I explain, and I’m too worried about that mozzarella spirit that I don’t realise I’m stepping a line.

“Why not build your own building and give it its own identity?” I propose. “And it’s not like the rest is ugly.”

“The colors and the furniture are-“

“I’m not talking about the paint, but the shape, the structure, the skeleton of this mansion.” I cut him off, needing him to understand. I love my job, but I hate that the clients have no vison, that they don’t feel what energy buildings and houses give off. This is going to be a murder.

“If that’s what you have planned for this project, I don’t want in on this.” I tell him, looking straight into his sturdy brown eyes. He frowns down at me.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I murmur. He lags for a second, is mouth hanging slightly open, his lips parted in a way that lets me see a bit of his tongue, and that’s enough to distract me again.

“You make all this fuss for me to let you in and you give up because you like the mouldings?” He says, threat in his voice.

“Yes.” I reply sternly.

“This,” I wave towards the extension. “Is absolutely beautiful. It’s divine.” I tell him. Turning on my heels, I walk back to the place where the old building is.

“But this is the mansion we’re in.” I place my hand on the rock arc that serves as a doorway. I look back at him, hoping he’s getting what I’m saying. His face is a knot of confusion, and he looks displeased. This is pointless.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I can’t murder this old guy.” I shrug, giving the arc an affectionate tap. I can’t believe I’m refusing such a project, but my heart won’t handle it. Shit, Fred won’t handle it if I come back empty-handed.

“But I can pass it to a colleague of mine. She’s phenomenal when it comes to minimalism, and Italian furniture. She’ll do fantastic.” I add quickly, almost stumbling over my words. Mr Jeon opens his mouth to talk but he’s cut off by sounds of heels treading the floor. My eyes follow the sound and I see a man and woman walking up the mezzanine in our direction.

“No need.” Mr Jeon says to me. “Miss Bingfield here is only too willing to be part of this.” He says, waving towards the middle-aged woman accompanied by another asian man. I freeze, feeling defeated.

“And she was on time.” He adds. Ouch. The woman flushes, clinging to her portfolio and battling her eyelashes at him. I look away, feeling nauseous.

“There are a few things we need to discuss, Mr Jeon.” She murmurs to him.

“Jimin, please show miss Bingfield back in my office.” Mr Jeon orders, and the guy- Jimin, as I know him now, strides past me, greeting me with a nod, followed by the other designer.

Mr Jeon strides over to me.

“I’ll walk you back to the door.” He says, his words feeling like stabs in my stomach. This is disastrous. I barged my way into this mansion by acting cocky and confidant, and know my confidence has been shattered to pieces, and I feel humiliated.

“I’ll show myself out, thank you.” I mutter, turning on my heels. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle any more time in his company.

“I insist.” I hear him say as he walks next to me. I shut him out, looking down at the floor as we walk back to the entrance of the mansion, but my head shoots up when I feel him casually put his hand on to small of my back.

A current of electricity travels through me, and I almost forget how to walk. Now It’s all I feel, the heat of his hand, through the material of my dress and through my skin, through my flesh and inside my core. I take quicker steps, my breath caught up in my throat.

What is this? Why am I like this? I completely lost my composure the second I laid my eyes on him and I fucked things up. Not only did I miss a contract, a beautiful Italian architect work is going to be destroyed and I humiliated myself in front of a man who knew I’d do just that.

I’m such a failure. Tears of frustration rise up to my eyes, making them sting. And my throat tightens and my nose starts to feel heavy with snot.

“Could I yse the bathroom quickly?” I blurt out, feeling like I’m about to lose it. Jeon stops abruptly in his steps.

“There’s one right there.” He point at a door behind me. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.“

Avoiding his gaze, I dive into the bathroom and look the door just in time, bursting into tears right after. I slap my portfolio on the vanity, angry at myself and that piece of crap who doesn’t recognise beauty. Taking deep breaths, I wipe my tears away, wanting to calm down as fast as I can.

If you want to cry Maya, you can, but get out of here first.

Checking myself in the mirror, I’m relieved to see my eyes aren’t red yet. I smooth my hair down and gently slap my cheeks, giving myself a mental pep talk. Just one more minute with him.

You go down the stairs, out the mansion, into your car and byebye sexy douche bag. You can do this.

Taking one last, cleansing breath, I assess myself one last time in the mirror. I look just fine. I walk out the bathroom and retrace my steps until I’m back at the stairs. Mr douchy is waiting for me like he said, hands in the pockets of his fine trousers.

In dead silence, he escorts me to the door, opening it for me.

“Pleasure meeting you, Maya.” He murmurs, offering me his hand. The way my name rolls off his tongue makes the hairs on my nape rise in attention.

“Miss Fair.” I correct him, shaking his hand. He gives me a knowing smile. He knows.

“Miss Fair.” He repeats, letting my hand go. “Lovely meeting you. I mean it.” He murmurs, and I act as if his wors aren’t about to make me shake like a leaf. I muster up the last bit of confidence he left in me after thiose twenty minutes.

“I’d say the same thing, but I don’t lie.” I reply on the same honeyed tone as him. He makes a surpried but subtly pleased face. The guy is having his fun right now.

“Great day to you Mr Jeon.” I mutter, turning on my heels and doing my best not tosprint away. I walk down the stairs and don’t hear the door being closed. I understand he’s stilll watching me from the porch, so I try to march as confidently as possible without turning back.

I make it to my car, and I feel safer there. I sigh deeply, leaning my forehead against my steering wheel. I want to go home. I physically sag, all strength having being drained out of me during this… whatever this was.

i joldt up when I hear a loud buzz, and see the gates slowly opening in front of me. Pulling myself together, I start the engine and squeeze through when I have enough space, driving away without any intention of coming back.

I drive back to the office, and it’s almost empty, almost everyone being gone on their lunch break. Sighing deeply, I sag agaisnt the chair of my desk, dropping my head between my hands.

How the hell am I supposed to tell Fred I lost the contract? It was almost a done deal. He requested me by name.

Fred always complains that I refuse deals because I’m ’too’ passionate about what I do. And I try, really try to work on it, but it really makes me emotional to see people ruining houses and architect work because of trends.

I absolutely love my job, I love architecture, and that’s why I want to do it properly. But can I call it proper work when I keep losing money?

“So? How did it go?” I hear Jade, a colleague of mine ask me. When I look up she’s entering my office, closing the door behind her and leaning against the door. She looks at me with shiny eyes, her lips pursed in anticipation. Even she was excited about this.

I burst into tears, dropping my head again, feeling defeated for the second time.

“Hey.” Jade croons, walking over to me. She sits on my desk, one of her hand coming down to stroke my back comfortingly.

“I’m a monumental fuck-up.” I sob, wiping my eyes only to let more tears fall out of them.

“Honey, what happened?” She asks me. I look up at her through my damp lashes.

“He gave it to someone else.” I sniffle.

“The project? Why?” She breathes, her face a knot of confusion. I sniffle.

“Because I was late.” I confess,. “And because I refused when he gave me a second chance.” I test it on her, lifting shy eyes to her face to see her reaction so I can imagine Fred’s.

“Maya.”

Hugh. I drop my head in my hands again.

“Fred is going to kill me.” I groan.

“Well, he’s out of the office all afternoon, so calm down.” She says. not denying it. He is going to kill me. Tomorrow. I have 22 hours to live. I’ll take that.

“Than man, Jeon Jungkook, he’s quite something.” I mutter.

“He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“You know him?” I shoot my eyes up at her.

“My husband works with him sometimes. He’s tough in business.” She explains. Tough in business? He’s tough period. “But hot, right?” She smirks.

I don’t reply and look away from her, not wanting to confess that just looking at him turns me into an anxious sappy puddle. My office phone rings.

Sighing, I quickly grab a tissue from the box on my desk and wipe my nose, picking up the combine,

“Hello?” I say as I take the call. Jade gives me a sympathetic tap on the back before leaving me to my business.

“Maya? Mr Jeon on line 2 for you.” Ava says from the other end of the line. What?

I thought I’d never have to deal with him again. I think secretly I was relieved he gave the project to someone else, now I’m getting nervous again just at the idea of being on the phone with him. This man is bad for my blood pressure.

I take a few seconds.

“Put him through.” I tell her before hanging up. I wait, staring at the phone on my desk until it starts ringing again. And I wait. It rings once, twice, three times, and I pick up at the fourth time.

“One second please.” I say quickly before putting him on hold. I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I want him to think I’m busy. I take his call after another twenty seconds.

“Union design and architecture, Maya on the phone, how can I help you?” I say, sounding as professional yet nonchalant as possible.

“Maya?” His voice sounds like buttery pancakes, my name in his mouth making me ball my fists as my blood rushes through my veins. I put my fist in my mouth, calming myself down.

“Who’s talking?” I pipe up.

“Well, the man whose name the receptionist told you.” He retorts. “But nice try.”

Ouch.

“What can I help you with, Mr Jeon?” I sigh. He even defeats me at my twisted mind games.

“You forgot your portfolio in my bathroom.” He informs me.

“Oh.” I say. “You can throw it away. I have multiple.” I lie. I don’t have multiple portfolios, I’ve lost them all, but I’m not meeting him again to get it back. He can have it.

“Noted. But that’s not the only reason I’m calling.” He retorts. God help me. “Do you do evenings?” He asks me.

“No, I don’t.” I lie.

“Something tells me you’re lying.”

HOW THE FUCK DOES HE KNOW?

“Mr Jeon, why don’t you just tell me what you want?” I ask, exasperated.

“I will. Let’s say tomorrow around seven?” He proposes. Oh sweet mother of jesus, I’m seeign this man again, aren’t I?

If it’s work related, I’ll have to go. It could be an occasion to get a contract and prevent Fred from firing me.

“Maya?” He calls when I don’t answer.

“Miss Fair.” I correct him.

“Miss Fair, can we meet at seven?” He sounds amused.

“-Ish.” I tell him.

“-ish.” He repeats. “Good. I’ll send you the address.”

“Perfect.”

“See you tomorrow, Maya.”

“Miss-“

He hangs up before I can correct him. Christ, what am I getting myself into?

Seconds later, I receive a text on my phone from an unknown number. It’s nothing but un address. How did he get my number? Oh, my portfolio.

I drive to the location Mr Jeon gave me. It’s outside london but closer than the mansion. When I actually make it to the adress, I meet nothing but a dirt road, and my GPS indicates I’m at destination. But there’s nothing. Nothing expect another car, Mr Jeon’s Audi, which he’s leaning against, waiting for me. He’s wearing a suit today as well, but this time he has a jacket and a tie. The jacket fits him perfectly. I have a thing for well fitted suits, men in suits, him in a suit…

My heart starts to race again just at the thought of being close to him, talking to him and having him looking at me with his deep pools of brown.

I park right behind his vehicle and get out my car with shaky legs.

“Maya.” He greets with a soft yet dazzling smile, stretching his hand out to me.

“Miss Fair, please.” I correct him, making sure he doesn’t cross the line again. I fully intend on not letting him trample me. I shake his hand, and I think I make a good job hiding the tingles that run through me when our skins touch.

“Miss Fair.” He concedes, nodding softly, his fingers lingering against my palm as I slip my hand out of his. “You’re looking lovely today.” He says appreciatively, taking me by surprise.

Wait, what?

I’m suddenly self conscious, know that I know he notices the way I look. My cheeks heat up dangerously, and I’m a bit listless, my mouth going dry.

This god-like creature thinks I look lovely today.

My mouth hangs slightly open in shock, and I can’t seem to manage to form a decent answer- or a decent sound, for that matter. His eyes slide down my legs.

“Maybe I should’ve told you to bring flat shoes.” He muses, crinkling his nose. He crinkles his nose!

“We’re going for a hike.” He declares. I blink rapidly.

“Are we?” I manage. He nods silently.

“Follow me.” He invites.

My feet accepting to cooperate, I follow him down the lane, entering the forest. We walk in the nature for a good five minutes, the forest slowly morphing into darker woods. And That’s when I start to wonder just what I am doing, following an asian sex symbol in woods outside London.

I think I should run. No one knows where I am. Hell, I don’t even where I am. When I decide to stop and run, we make it out of the woods into a huge parcel of greenery, standing just at the bottom of a hill. There is a stairway that has been built to reach the top. It’s made of white stones, and from the bottom, it forms a mosaic with roman designs using perspective vison.

I’m fascinated and curious. There is actually something up here. The stairs are rundown though, broken in several places, pieces missing, the overall structure looking unsteady. But it’s beautiful.

“The steps are broken. Be careful where you step.” Mr Jeon says to me as I start climbing. This is such a shame. These stairs must have looked amazing in the past.

“You still don’t want to tell me why I’m here?” I ask, detaching my gaze from the stones under my feet.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He replies elusively.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again.” I murmur, and watch as his brow furrows. He looks at me quizzically.

“I never said that. I said I was pleased to meet you.” He reminds me. Well, that’s something you say to anyone when you’re polite enough. I didn’t think-

“And I said I meant it.” He adds. So, that man doesn’t know how to lie? He really was pleased to meet me? He, for sure, had a ver strange way of showing it.

“Ah!” I shriek when the stone under my foot wobbles and detaches itself from the step. I stumble forward, but Mr Jeon’s strong hand stops my fall. He grabs me by the upper arm and yanks me up, pulling me flush against him.

I look up at him, mortified by his proximity. His heat pours out onto me, from his chest onto my side, and from his hand onto my arm. The delicate smell of fresh yet musky cologne engulfs itself in my nostrils, and his brown pools stare at me intently, bordering on a slight glare.

My heart is in my ears, pounding hard and heating up my cheeks.

“I said be careful.” He murmurs, letting me go. When he steps back, the air gets thinner, and I can actually breathe. That’s when I realise I was holding my breath.

“Thank you.” I mumble, actually thanking god he stepped away, but then I feel his fingertips sliding across my palm. I look down at my hand as he slips his in it, clipping my fingers down with his thumb across my knuckles.

“We’re almost there.” He says, holding my hand up. My mouth dries out, all the moisture in it going straight to my hand and making it clammy. He’s holding my hand.

He slightly tugs me forward, prompting my feet to move. And while he thinks he’s helping my go up the stairs more steadily, he’s actually making it worse for me because my legs have turned into jelly.

He lets me go once we make it to the top, and I meet an abandoned horror house. It’s actually a windmill house, from old America, again, right outside London. But it’s broken down, rundown, old and scary. The windmill is placed on the left, a large column maybe ten meters high. It’s made of old white stone that went beige with time.

“What’s this?” I ask my client as we walk down the grave pathway.

“My old guy.” He declares, watching me. His old guy? He has some sentimental connection with this shell of a house? We stop under the porch.

“You’re giving me this…project?” I ask, incredulous. He really was pleased to meet me.

“It’s not a project.” He shakes his head softly, looking up at the mill. “It’s my whole life.”

I swallow. He sure does know how to put pressure on people.

“And I want you to work on it.” He adds, and deep down, in a small, unused part of my brain, I tell myself he’s not just talking about this house.

#jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfiction #jungkookxoc #jungkook x oc #twh #jimin #bts jimin #jimin scenario #bts reactions #bangtan scnearios #kpop scnearios #kpop smut #kpop

64 notes · View notes

jamesdeerest · 5 years

Text

dad-approved

PAIRING: fred weasley x muggleborn!reader

REQUEST: @im-eating-rn asked “Oh! What about Fred falling for his classmate who is best friend with practically everybody,she's really sweet and intriguing, and her dad is a toy maker, she's a muggle born and she always brings them something awesome.One day Fred and George coming home with roller skates "look what our fine best friend gave us dad, muggle skates" "those are actually roller skates" "cause they roll" Being best Bros with Arthur also, and him pumping Fred up to ask her out finally so she can join them for real,”

WARNINGS: probs swearin

NOTES: cuteeee requesttt ilyyy

WORD COUNT: 1.2k boii my fics are getting longer!! heres to actual story arcs lol

“Fred! George! Over here, guys!” you yelled from the other side of the Great Hall, waving the twins over. Once they approached, you chucked a box at Fred, laughing as he nearly dropped it, before he set it down on the table and opened it, pulling out... shoes? He looked at you, slightly puzzled. “Y/N, I appreciate the thought and all, but why did you get me shoes... is that wheels on the bottom?!”

You grinned at his excitement, before giving George his pair, Fred already ramming his feet into the roller skates. He beamed as he stood up, before his legs slipped, his arms windmilling as he clattered to the floor. Fred sat there, baffled, before valiantly trying, and failing, to get back up. This carried on for about five minutes, George soon joining him, you literally crying with laughter. Finally they both lay on the floor, defeated. You bent down to untie the laces on them, and the twins stood up, picking them up. Fred turned to his brother.

“You wanna skip Potions and figure out how to use these?” George grinned and high fived Fred, nodding before turning to you and hugging you, mumbling a ‘thank you’ in your ear. Fred followed, although his hug lasted longer, and he kissed your cheek at the end of it, which came as a shock to both you and him. George wasn’t surprised at all, but soon got impatient, dragging Fred off by the arm to test out the skates. “You’re the best, Y/N!”

From weeks after that, it was a common sight to see Fred and George whizzing down the corridors, and a first-year swore he saw Dumbledore using them too. As Fred’s skating skills had been growing, so had his crush on you: he had been skating down the hall, saw you and crashed into a crowd of third years because he was so distracted. It was really becoming a problem, that was the fifth time that had happened. Thankfully, you hadn’t caught on yet, although Fred didn’t know how- he wasn’t exactly subtle.

After a couple weeks of Fred being a stuttering mess around you, it was approaching the Christmas holidays, and for the first time, you were staying at the Burrow for the festive season. You were over the moon to finally meet Mr and Mrs Weasley- they had been sending you jumpers for years now, but you had only heard Molly’s voice through the howlers she sent to the twins.

You were just pulling in to King’s Cross, and you shifted from where you’d been sleeping on Fred’s lap, rubbing your eyes as Fred grinned down at you. “Hello, sleepyhead.” You smiled lazily, stretching. “Sup, ginger ninja.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Never call me that again, L/N. Or I’ll have to bust out some of my snazzy ninja moves on you.” You laughed, before George kicked Fred from across the compartment. “Oi, lovebirds, we’re here. Quit making googoo eyes at each other, I can see Mum and Dad.”

Quickly sitting up, you refused to make eye contact with Fred, embarrassment burning your face. You stood up, mumbling an excuse about needing to talk to a friend, and grabbed your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder and hurrying out.

Fred groaned, kicking his brother. “Arsehole.” George laughed, shoving him back. “Oh I’m sorry, were you having a moment?”

“Shut up, George!”

From the start, you hit it off with all the Weasleys. You already knew Percy, Ron and Ginny from Hogwarts, and had briefly met Charlie from your first and second year- Bill, however, was a new face, and you got on well. As soon as you met Molly, she suffocated you in one of her infamous bear hugs, and Arthur- well, it’s safe to say he liked you.

More often than not, you and Arthur could be found testing out some of your dad’s products. Arthur liked to enhance them magically- your personal favourite being when he charmed the space hopper your dad had sent you to go much higher, Ron nearly having a heart attack when he saw his dad above the house. You also liked to explain muggle things to Arthur, him fascinated with the most mundane things. On Christmas Day, you gave him a whoopee cushion, and when Harry came to visit he was convinced Arthur had a gas problem.

Of course, you got your Christmas jumper, with [initial] on the front, and you got all the Weasleys muggle chocolate, except for Fred and George. You got George a box, crammed with muggle pranks, and Fred? You wanted to get him something special. Shyly, you handed him a slim rectangular package, wrapped in golden snitch wrapping paper. He looked at you curiously as he opened it; he was expecting the same as George.

As soon as he saw the contents, he smiled- it was a photo of you and him on a broom, zooming around the Quidditch pitch, Colin Creevey taking the photo from the stands. He watched the two of you go round and round, you resting your head on Fred’s shoulder as you laughed, your hair blowing about in the wind.

He pulled you into a hug as Molly took it from him, wanting to get a look at her son and the girl he so obviously liked.

“Do you like it?” you mumbled into his chest, nerves still coursing through you. He laughed into your hair, squeezing you tighter. “I love it, Y/N. Thank you.”

Molly stood up to put the photo on the mantelpiece, sharing a knowing look with Arthur- their boy was whipped.

It was the day before you headed back to Hogwarts, and the Burrow was a madhouse- everybody was running around, trying to pack. Arthur only had one thing on his mind, however- to talk to Fred.

Finally he cornered him in the kitchen, Molly having distracted you. Arthur sat down at the table with a cup of tea, looking innocently at his son. “So, you and Y/N, hm?” Fred flushed, shaking his head violently. “What? No. Me and Y/N- we’re not- I mean not that I wouldn’t want to- no. We’re not... just no, Dad.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow knowingly. “She’s a nice girl, Fred! We all like her, you like her, she likes you, why not?” Fred snorted, looking down. “She doesn’t like me.”

Arthur frowned. “Oh yeah? How do you know?” Fred laughed bitterly. “Just trust me on this one, okay?”

“Trust me on this one, Fred. Just- talk to her tonight, okay? For me. For your old man.” Fred groaned, grabbing his dad’s tea. “Fine. But I warned you it was going to go wrong.”

But it didn’t go wrong, if the kiss you shared that night was anything to go by. If the next few years of happiness were anything to go by. If that one night, that one wonderful night where Fred got down on one knee, and asked you to spend your life with him, was anything to go by.

It all went right.

aww i actually liked how that turned out!!

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#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #harry potter fanfiction #pottair writes

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ms31x129 · 5 years

Text

The end is here Chapter 7! I went simple with this DJ Jackson/William was shaped by 2 couples who loved him. That’s at the heart of this incredible story, imho. @cultureisdarkbeer @monikafilefan @today-in-fic

Chapter 1 - Courage to Jump Tumblr LINK AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 2: Luck of the Irish Tumblr LINK or AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 3: Graffiti of the Heart Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 4: Leave Your Demons At The Door Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 5: Truth Is the Pain Inside Our Hearts Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 6: Final Destination Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 7: Full Circle <<AO3 Link or if you like Tumblr you know the drill clickity-click on the Keep Reading link below.

{Summary:

Jackson’s journey has come full circle, but what happens before it finally comes to an end?}

“Everything has a way of coming full circle. It takes patience and perseverance to see a dream through… to close that circle. Because some dreams, like some circles, can be much bigger than others.” -Karen Dale Trask

The fresh spring breeze tousled Jackson’s unruly hair. It either frizzed or flopped around his cowlick and left him consistently smoothing it down more often than not. He couldn’t help but wonder who he’d gotten that trait from: Mulder or Dana? Would he call her Dana or Mother or… Mom? Not that. He didn’t think he could ever find it in his heart to call anyone Mom again.

Jackson couldn’t help but think back to the moment he first spoke face to face with his birth mother. After hearing her heartfelt confession in the morgue, the one that made his gut tumble to his toes, he made a silent promise that he would talk to her at some point in the future. He just had no idea that the chance to make good on that promise would present itself so soon after he made it. He had just endured the worst day of his life after witnessing his parents lying lifeless on the floor covered in blood, and then hearing the words of a mother he never thought he’d meet left him reeling. Using Ghouli for selfish reasons had him feeling overwhelming guilt; yet seeing her and Mulder, under the guise of an illusion at that off-the-beaten-path gas station, had softened the ironclad armor he was trying so hard to construct around his heart...

The bell attached to the gas station door chimed and a tall man walked in.

“Can I get $40 on the SUV out there, please?” Jackson could see the attendant in his peripheral ringing the guy up as he popped a sunflower seed in his mouth. He watched the man turn to him and nod up at the TV where the Pirates and Nats were tied in the bottom of the 4th inning.

“You follow baseball?” His voice was low and smooth in a familiar sort of way that flowed over Jackson with ease.

Feeling a wave of goosebumps spike across his arms, he glanced over inside his illusion and directly locked eyes with the man his birth mother had embraced in the morgue: Fox Mulder.

Slowly nodding, Jackson answered, “I’m a Yankee’s fan myself.”

“Me, too!”

“Too bad I’m leaving town. Maybe, we could have caught a game,” Jackson sighed, confused that he actually meant it.

Mulder shrugged and scoffed at the pop fly to the pitcher's mound. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I bet a G-man can get good seats.” He nudged Mulder’s arm and pointed to the exposed badge sticking out of his jacket pocket.

Mulder narrowed his eyes at Jackson, the same ones he saw in the mirror every day. “Good eye.”

He huffed. “Gotta have one nowadays.”

Mulder smirked, nodding in agreement, and a flicker of sadness washed over his face as the screen focused in on a father and son laughing as they cheered on their team. “Years ago, I had the hope of taking my own son to a game.”

A knot began to form in Jackson’s throat. He cleared it and decided to leave a little something for the obvious emotionally worn-down man standing nearly shoulder to shoulder with him. “Well, maybe one day you can. Don’t give up.”

The smell of baked goods caught his attention and the memory of his first encounter with his birth father faded. He ventured over to the small mom-and-pop shop called “Little Virginia’s Bakery and Novelty Shop” with a renewed sense of purpose and food on the brain.

“Perfect!” His empty stomach rumbled in agreement.

For being an out-of-the-way shop, the little place held a few farmers, a family of three, and an elderly couple tucked away in the back. The sweet scent of cinnamon and sugar filled the air and Jackson’s mouth watered instantly.

“Hi there!” The silver haired woman stood from her corner table to greet him. “Welcome to Little Virginia’s. Hungry?” Her brown eyes trailed him from head to toe, assessing his dirty, worn jeans, well-loved jacket, and mussed hair. Jackson was sure he would hear a grandmother-like lecture about taking good care of himself; one he knew he’d never heard from one of his own. But, instead, she smiled and nodded to the bakery case. “How about I get you a nice carb-filled breakfast while you take a look around the place? Can’t help but assume you just might like something you see.” She pointed to the baseball on his shirt from his Freshman year travel league team—which he was reluctantly kicked off of for skipping too many practices.

“Uh, sure, okay. Thanks,” he stammered, unsure of what she meant by that yet followed her gaze to the wall behind him. Gasping, he wandered over to the large shelving unit filled with snow globes. “Wow!”

The wall was covered with a wide array of different sized globes. Each one was unique in design and meaning. Just like the collection back in his room that he’d never see again, he thought bitterly. He scanned each shelf from top to bottom, searching for one that called to him. It was something that he and his mom used to do on family vacations when they visited tourist shops.

Jackson slowed his mind and chose not to fight against the happier memory tickling at his brain of his very first snow globe that sparked not only the start of his collection, but his interest in all things cryptid...

“Jackson? There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” his mom chastised, grabbing his arm and kneading it between her fingers. “You wandered off again and left me wondering where my son’s imagination had decided to lead him this time.”

He sighed, hoping he wouldn’t be grounded later because of the strong attraction to what was staring him in the face at the moment. “Sorry, I just saw this and liked it.”

With a ruffle of his thick hair that dipped along his forehead, his mom chucked. “That certainly is an… interesting snow globe.” Jackson shook it and the white, glittery flecks swirled like a storm. “Why this one? It doesn’t seem to fit your space-themed bedroom.”

A grin spread across his chocolate stained mouth. “Oh, it does, Mom. Just like with outer space, there’s mystery behind the existence of Sasquatch. You know, guesses...”

She shook her head. “Theories, you mean,” she corrected, “just like with space. Jackson, you are too smart for your own good, you know that?”

His mom teased yet it was the truth; and he knew it. He knew a lot of things he wished he didn’t. “Yeah, I do.”

“Hey, kid!” A deep voice snapped Jackson’s eyes open and back to the shop. He stared at a man through one of the large glass globes and nearly laughed at the distorted fun house image he saw looking back. “You alright?”

“Yeah, uh yes, I’m fine,” he said, quoting his usual line when anyone asked how he was. “Just checking these out. I used to collect them, actually.” He wasn’t sure why he was sharing personal information with a stranger. He’d never done that before, but the kindness in the man’s eyes reminded him of his dad.

“Used to?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just haven’t added to my old collection in a few years.”

“Well,” the man started as he adjusted his hat, “looks to me like you’re ready to start a new one.” Jackson raised a brow and watched as the man went and sat back down in his chair with a smirk peeking out from his mustache.

As Jackson continued to look through the mass of watery globes, he considered that the old man was right. Starting something new was exactly what he was hoping to accomplish. Just then, a ray of sunlight struck the glass on a small, circular one out of the corner of his eye. It sat on the shelf nestled in a row of sports themed snow globes. The one he felt compelled to touch left him baffled at the significant meaning. If he weren’t fully aware of the pain-free feeling in his skull, he might think the image inside the globe was a snapshot of a future vision.

Holding it up into the light, the tiny people inside painted an exact picture of a life that Jackson thought he was never meant to have.

A man stood on the pitchers mound, arm wound back in an arc, ready to let loose a curveball with the way his fingers were gripped around the seams. The batter was a boy with brown hair who leaned over the plate, wooden bat cocked back and poised in the air. There was a woman sitting on a grassy hill near the boy, strands of her red-gold hair were fisted within a tiny infants grasp cradled in her arms. In that moment, Jackson actually believed that fate was calling.

Over an hour later, Jackson had made it to the desolate Wallis road, his belly full and spirits lifted, but a part of his heart remained heavy. Nature called, so he found a tree among the weeds to relieve himself. As he zipped back up, in the far distance he noticed the roof of the house, and reality punched him square in the solar plexus. Would the DoD pick up his trail? By taking these next steps, did it place them all in danger? Maybe they had moved on and were a happy family without him—complete and worry free.

Maybe, his trek should end where he stood.

His thumb rubbed the glass auricle buried deep in his jacket pocket; the crinkled letter folded next to it worn by years, travel, and his own perspiration poked at the back of his hand. Both of them provided reassurance. Perhaps, another link from the past held an answer along with some courage. There was still one line left to read after all. Carefully, with trembling fingers he unfolded the paper and the heart-wrenching words flowed freely from his lips.

“And in that moment, you will be blessed… and stricken… for the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart .”

An explosion of images seared through his brain in a rapid fire of painful impulses, like an electrical storm burning across his neurons. He was assaulted by her face, her voice, her scent... It was then that Jackson refocused, the revelation that he had returned to a monumental moment in the past—a crucial turning point, as he began to walk his mother’s path one last time.

March 22, 2002

Her hands shook as she closed the door and entered her dark, silent apartment. She tore her purse, shoes, and jacket off in the entryway and let them fall carelessly to the floor. Her heart beat wildly within her chest as intense anxiety buzzed through her body, like a saw blade humming through flesh. Pushing it away yet again, she stumbled through the dim hallway, stopping abruptly as she came to a cracked open door.

She gasped, taking in the sight of the empty crib. Ignoring the voice in her head that Jackson could hear screaming for her to run—to hide and shut it all away, she allowed her fingertips to dance along the cool wooden bed where her son should lay dreaming. With a trembling chin, she reached in and grabbed his cream blanket, the one her mother had knitted for him when she hadn’t yet known to use pink or blue.

“Mom…” Jesus, her mother will never understand; she might always blame her for searching for answers to obscure questions when her miracle was held within her arms. She slammed her eyes shut as the memory of her mother’s advice played out behind her lids for Jackson to witness…

February 18, 2002

Sliding her arms into her jacket as she prepared to leave, she said, “Mom, it’s important. I wouldn’t go if it weren’t.”

Frustrated, her mother shook her head and clutched baby William tighter against her hip. “Yes, I know, Dana. You say it’s about getting answers.”

Shaking her head, she sighed and her eyes flicked to her son playing with his grandmother’s sweater, blissfully unaware of his role in life. “Answers about William, Mom.”

“I know you’re worried about him—that there are things about him that you just can’t explain. But, even if you were to get those answers, what would it change?”

With emotions flaring, her voice trembled as she tried to explain in the simplest way possible. “Mom, he’s my child.”

Refusing to back down and stay silent, she pleaded with her daughter to listen. “And you have to love him and raise him in spite of everything.” Stepping closer, her mother’s tone softened as her hazel eyes met watery blue. “Dana, God has given you a miracle. A child that wasn’t supposed to be.” Gazing down at her grandson with pride, she offered, “Maybe, it’s not to question—just to be taken as a matter of faith.”

Feeling lost and alone with horrible thoughts swirling of what secrets may be out there regarding her son, she stared at her mother’s worried expression and told her the truth. “Mom, I can’t take this on faith. I need to know,” she explained, soothing William’s soft, fuzzy hair, wishing she could fully trust what her heart was telling her. “I need to know if it’s really God I have to thank...”

Jackson felt his mother stiffen as her own memory melted away. Her eyes snapped open yet the residual turmoil of her mother’s words remained entwined like barbed wire within her chest.

“Oh, Mom...” she whispered and bit her lip until it hurt almost as much as her heart.

She inhaled a deep breath, her knees buckling at the strong baby scent and that’s when she saw it: her own withdrawn, broken reflection in the small mirror hung above the rocking chair. How could she look herself in the mirror ever again and not see someone who had simply given up, who didn’t have the courage to stand by her son and fight to the death to protect him? His father would have if he were here. Yet, she sent him away to keep their son safe, and now she was left with nothing.

Guttural cries finally burst free from her mouth, the awful feeling of guilt and sadness overwhelmed her. Pressing the scent of their baby boy to her face, she screamed into the yarn of the blanket as her emotions warred on. Her mother: a God-fearing woman who forgives as easily as she loves, would never forget what her daughter had done here tonight.

Emptiness echoed in the silence, fatigue pulled at the weariness beneath her lids as her fingers ran along the soft stitching connecting the satin to the plush cotton. Her body felt hollow, like a shell that held nothing but an ocean of tears and shards of glass wedged between her soul and her heart.

It hurt to be in her son’s room where he slept and played and nursed and listened to her terrible singing and… it hurt to breathe. “Oh God, Mulder, please forgive me.”

A heavy layer of sorrow covered her chest, suffocating her. The reality of her decision surrounded her with every shallow breath she took. “Mulder, I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, fiery tears burning her down the column of her throat. “Our truest truth… our son, he’s held us together and now… and now desperately apart.”

No matter if her choice was right or not, William was their son: a living breathing product of their everlasting love, their miracle… and now he was gone. No matter her constant worry of the safety and origin of the miracle she held within her arms every day—had loved unconditionally the moment she knew he existed; she had willingly given away a part of her and Mulder’s love. A love so strong that it conquered the impossible and produced a wondrous gift. In that very moment, she knew she would carry this heaviness in her heart until the day she died. And Jackson felt her terrible thought that just maybe, she deserved to.

He felt his mother slipping away from his grasp as she road the roaring tide of her emotions. She and her gut-wrenching sobs were fading, drifting off into darkness where he knew she would rebuild her fortress of stoicism in order to survive, dimming the remaining light in her life as the vision did the same for him.

Time stretched like a rubber band connecting the past to the present. Jackson separated achingly slow from his mother’s grief with images fading into the back of his mind as his own anguish took hold.

“Ah, dammit!” The sheer agony that had coursed through her veins was enough for Jackson to still taste the metallic remnants of blood from her gnawed bottom lip within his own mouth. The upheaval of emotional static was in his head, shredding it from the inside—the side effects of constant fears and self-doubt. The selfless suffering felt from an unconditional love took away a piece of him as it took from her, unraveling the purity in his soul.

He felt his chin tremble uncontrollably, like it did when he was nine and was teased on the playground for being “weird.” He felt it: the last remaining bricks of the wall that stood to protect and uphold his heart crumbled, leaving him bare and exposed. The flashback sucked the breath from his chest and he folded, collapsing into himself and driving him to his knees.

Squinting up at the sun with a sheen of sweat across his brow, he clenched his fists, blanching his knuckles as nails dug deeply into the palms of his hands. Slamming them to the ground, Jackson screamed. The sound piercing the early afternoon sky like an air raid siren, unleashing the remaining demons from the scars that had refused to heal. The agony left his lungs with the strength of a gale force wind, begging the sun for its rays of light to soothe away the darkness. The torment felt as though it ripped his muscles, bones, and flesh to shreds. His dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears and the dam burst when his emotions surged against it. Crystal beads streamed from his deep blue eyes as heaving sobs tore at his throat and wracked his chest—the weight of his grief pressing him into the ground where he knelt.

Within the last year, he had cried all of three times: the night of his parent’s death, once out of sheer loneliness, and now from the effects of this letter. These words from his mother had saved him from the monster, the one indifferent to suffering and sorrow, and got him to feel.

Jackson dug into the dirt with the balls of his feet and pushed off, taking mighty strides as he sprinted before even aware of the conscious decision. His bag bounced along his shoulders, his long dark colored locks whipping back and forth behind him as he leapt large rocks and dodged roots. Charged with adrenaline surging through his veins, he had to keep running forward; nothing would stop him now. As quick as his long legs could carry him, his shoes hammered the hard earth that mimicked the pounding in his chest. The smell of bark and pine invaded his nostrils, his burning lungs begging for air, but Jackson embraced the pain. His shirt clung to his form, damp with sweat and tears and he ran, feeling her presence like he could feel her mind. He finally let down the mental barrier he had held up against reaching out and into her mind, liberating him.

All the signs, all the things leading him to reach this very path was fate; it had intervened and he knew now—felt it now… William needed to come home.

Now, the boy who had always felt split in two was whole. Now, he was finally fine . He was free.

By the time he reached the gated driveway to the property, the pain had dissipated as hope and truth dominated. One hand rested on the cold iron; his limbs on fire as he panted, trying to catch his breath. The well-worn house stood taller now—a simple A-frame with a couple dormers and extended front porch. The fence surrounding the property consisted of many shades of weathered wood, time and sunlight painting it several grayish and brownish hues. Beyond its confines stood a patchwork quilt of several grasses and wildflowers, sewn together by a dusty road. For a glimmer of a moment, he envisioned a little sister running through the rolling grass, chasing a dog to hug and cuddle, the puppy stealing licks while they laughed in amusement and drank tea on the front porch.

Jackson pulled open the heavy gate and stepped onto the familiar ground his feet had yet to tread. A deep breath calmed his rising nerves, as did walking through the tall wheat grass swaying in the open breeze. It all reminded him of his childhood farm and working the fields with his dad.

The land here grew wilder than his dad would allow, although so did he and, he suspected, so did the pair that occupied that house. He continued on, the rhododendrons now in full bloom overpowered the nearby flowers. They greeted his senses and he became more engrossed, living in the moment like he had never experienced before. This was real. His futuristic visions foreshadowed death and hellfire, reeking of ash and rot. But here, only birds sang and thick, green foliage swayed with the breeze, covering the sound of distant traffic.

For so long his thoughts never stopped spinning, visions of pasts and futures, the constant questioning of himself was nothing but a furnace of pain hidden beneath a forced smile and occasional happiness. All of that stood silent now. For the first time in his life there were no thoughts, only instincts. Ones that he trusted. So he continued walking along the gravely dirt driveway, up the worn steps to stand at their faithful door.

Somehow it all made sense, that the flashback visions would take him back to where this all began, bringing him full circle to find the truth; taking him back to the night where his old life had ended and was given a new one. The night William M. Scully became Jackson Van de Kamp. He was both Jackson and William, he realized: Chimera born—one boy with two sets of parents who loved him. One remarkable teen with a remarkable past standing on the porch of an unremarkable house, hoping to share a future with those who sacrificed everything for him.

Jackson had navigated his way through his birth mother’s past and his own—effectively finding himself during a time when he was truly lost. And, now, the son of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully would finally cross their threshold as his whole self, an open book written in a language only they could fully understand.

A flutter of nervousness began to churn in his gut. He shut his eyes, inhaling a deep breath and counted to ten, recalling what his dad had told him to do when he felt this way. Those familiar words of wisdom embraced him, giving him the push he needed to let loose three confident knocks to the squeaky screen door. Footfalls and muffled voices could be heard through the oak door and his heart pounded through his shirt.

A smile pulled at Jackson’s lips when he realized that he was standing inches from the proverbial edge of what was his leap of faith for a new beginning, completely unafraid and committed to jump.

#xf fanfic #xffanfic #the xfiles #xfiles fanfic #msr fanfic #msrfanfic #xf chimera #xf season 11 #The X-Files #the xf fanfic #the x files fanfiction

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quarterfromcanon · 5 years

Text

There’s A Reason Not to Want This (But I Forgot)

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 10 - 3 A.M. [2,418 words]

In retrospect, Heather admitted to herself that none of it was particularly surprising. Rebecca’s and Valencia’s joint effort to get over Josh was one thing while he remained single. It convinced them they had gained the upper-hand, that they took back their power and left a shared mistake in the dust at Electric Mesa. If he should be the one to bounce back first, however, and start a new relationship while both of them were unattached? A backslide into fixation was sure to be imminent.

They were all spending a mellow late afternoon together, and the dining room table was their shared work space. Conversation was sparse and consisted of mostly inane muttering, save for Rebecca’s less-than-subtle hints that she was not over her recent fight with Paula. Then Valencia declared her relief to be able to surf the web without danger of recent Josh content. That marked the beginning of the spiral.

Heather was in the middle of damage control with some online Miss Douche users, and so she only spared the passing thought that a little digital distance was probably healthy for both of her friends. Rebecca and Valencia began drawling nonsensically about their present browsing. There was a gradual shift in their speed like a stealthy verbal tennis match. The more bizarre their comments, the more difficult they became to ignore. Heather abandoned her A.M.A. during the course of this indecipherable conversation and looked back and forth between them.

Nothing had changed about their body language, but something was definitely amiss. Heather’s index finger traced pensively over the touchpad on her keyboard. Clues to what was happening under the surface might present themselves, but she had to be on the lookout. It was not long before both women’s jabbering departed from all reasonable explanation. Heather voiced the first theory that came to mind.

“Are you both high right now?”

Frankly, if that turned out to be the case, Heather was mostly disappointed she hadn’t been offered the chance to get in on it.

No such luck.

Valencia and Rebecca had just become aware of Anna Hicks, alternatively known as Anna the Browbarian. Her sole life event of genuine interest to them was that she appeared to now be dating Josh Chan. Heather watched with an equal blend of annoyance and dismay as Valencia circled to sit beside Rebecca and co-analyze the stranger.

“Guys,” Heather interjected in an effort to pull them back from the abyss, “don’t do this. If you fall down the rabbit hole of internet-ing an ex’s current girlfriend, you may never come back.”

Rebecca shushed Heather and gave her arm a light shove. Heather did not allow the dismissive response to deter her. She continued to caution them against their course of action, but to no avail. They were already too far gone. Heather gave an irritable shrug.

She lifted her computer and walked away from the table, but her departure was neither noticed nor remarked upon by the people she left there. “You two are completely ridiculous,” Heather grumbled on the way to her bedroom.

No reply.

That could have been the end of it. Perhaps it should have been, Heather conceded. Yet she seemed unable to leave them to their own devices. She reemerged from her room every half hour or so, under the pretense of some excuse or other, just to check on how they were doing.

“I’ve gotta use the restroom. Did either of you already call dibs? ... No? Okay, cool.”

“Did no one hear the washer buzz? We’re just gonna leave our wet clothes in there for hours, like a college campus? So much young fun -- I really missed out studying from home.”

“Dryer’s done. Aaaand, uh-huh, right where I left you. What a relief. Maybe you should, like, stand up and do some stretches at least? Keep the blood flowing? Or sit perfectly still while you talk over me and ignore me. I’m sure that works just as well.”

“Gonna make some dinner. Don’t let the clanging pots and pans disturb you. Whoa, watch out, using both computers now. Mixing it up. Good for you. Divide and conquer. That’s scientifically sound.”

Rebecca and Valencia spent the entirety of Heather’s meal prep time arguing about the creation of a fake Instagram account to gain access to Anna’s personal photos. Fortunately, logic -- or at least fear of the law -- prevailed without any intervention on Heather’s part. She poured two glasses of water and carried them to the table.

“Okay, clear a spot. You guys have gotta at least eat something.”

They both stirred a little as if they perceived her in their periphery even if there was no break in their discussion to acknowledge that. She plucked their servings of food off the edge of the island countertop and returned.

Heather nudged Valencia’s arm with the plate in her right hand. “V, check it out. Mini tempeh patties. We only have the makings for these in the house because of you. Do you wanna maybe try one?”

“Hmm?” Valencia finally tore her gaze from the screen. She turned to see what Heather was repeatedly tapping against her biceps and brightened. Her eyes lifted to Heather’s face with a touched expression. “Aww, they’re adorable! And they smell amazing.”

“Great. Maybe you should eat them, since it’s seven-thirty at night and the only thing you’ve chewed on since lunch is your own finger.” Heather handed the meal to her, along with a napkin to catch spillage before it could land on the electronics.

Valencia took a tentative bite and groaned. “So good. And small enough to keep at least one of my hands free for typing. Good thinking.”

“Yeah, you got me. All I want is for you to be able to keep searching.”

Valencia reached back and caught hold of Heather’s palm to give it an appreciative squeeze. “Thanks, Heathe. You didn’t have to.”

Heather watched Valencia’s fingers slide free from hers once more. “I mean, I kinda did since clearly neither of you were going to do it, but... You’re welcome.”

“Heatherrrr?” Rebecca wheedled while still clacking away at the keys. “When you were making Valencia cute little bean burgers, did you happen to throw on any --”

“Yours are the regular kosher,” Heather answered the question before it was voiced. “No lettuce or tomato.”

“Thaaaanks. You’re an angel.”

“Is that just a thing you call people who make you food? You said basically the same thing to my dad,” Heather reminded her.

The comment was ignored as the next page of Google results loaded. Heather carried her own dinner to her room and shut the door.

Long after midnight, Heather woke and realized she never heard the sounds of Rebecca getting ready for bed. She hadn’t picked up on the closing of the front door, either. Heather propped onto her elbows and tapped her phone to check the time. 3:28.

She rolled off the mattress, hissed at the frigidity of the floor on her feet, and shuffled into the common living space. Rebecca was sprawled forward in her seat with one arm curled across the bottom of the still-open laptop while the other was crooked under her ear. Valencia’s forehead was resting against her crossed wrists, face concealed from view.

Heather shook her head. She went to Rebecca’s bedroom first and grabbed her pillow and blanket. The fabric unfurled and trailed behind her as Heather brought the provisions back to her slumbering companion.

“All right, dude. Your neck will be killing you in the morning, so we’re just gonna...” She curled her fingers under Rebecca’s cheek and lifted her head. “Ugh! Oh my god. Yeah, so, that was a whole puddle of drool my hand just touched. Did not see it until now. That’s on me. Here’s your pillow.” Heather dried the spittle from her skin with her sleep shorts. She draped the blanket over Rebecca’s shoulders. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

Heather padded into her bedroom and opened the closet. She stood on tiptoe and pulled down a quilt that used to drape across the foot of her bed as a kid. Heather threw that over her shoulder and tucked the soft cushion from her chair under the opposite arm.

Valencia’s head had tilted to the side while Heather was gone. Strands of hair clung to her features. A few wisps twitched as her breath stirred them in passing. Heather reached out, hesitated, and then moved forward to coax the errant locks back into place. Her fingertips accidentally brushed Valencia’s lips in the process and their soft curvature against her knuckles made Heather’s insides feel like they all plummeted simultaneously to crash against her pelvis. She withdrew and tried to ignore her heart’s uptick in beats per minute.

Heather tucked the quilt securely around Valencia’s shoulders and torso, hoping it would be enough to keep the bulky stitched cloth from slipping free overnight. The cushion posed more of a problem. She would need to touch Valencia’s face again in order to slide the padding into place. Heather struggled with the approach for a moment. Her arm formed practice arcs in the air as she tried to work out which angle involved the least amount of contiguity. Ultimately, she settled on moving to the other side, where the tumble of tresses could act as a barrier between her fingertips and Valencia’s cheekbone.

She established a grip in the narrow opening between Valencia’s forearm and her jaw. Valencia stirred but did not wake. The shift of her body brought the weight of her head down on Heather’s wrist. Valencia responded to the external source of warmth and snuggled against Heather’s open hand.

“Nooo,” Heather whispered desperately. She tried to pull free, but Valencia was heavy with the complete relaxation of a deep sleep. Gingerly, Heather lifted Valencia’s head away from the table and inserted the cushion into the empty space. She managed to free her arm and gave it a subtle shake at her side. “There. Now at least you won’t wake up with an imprint of your bracelets between your eyebrows.”

Heather prepared to go back to bed, but an open tab on Valencia’s laptop caught her attention: How to Know If Someone Likes You.

“Right, because they were doing that weird thing trying to guess who initiated all of Anna’s breakups,” Heather mumbled. “I mean, either way, it left her single to date Josh now, so like, does it really matter which of them looked disinterested in their selfies?”

Her voice trailed off when she noticed the introduction below the title. ‘What hints suggest that someone is secretly interested? Is there somebody in your life who may be giving you signs they want to go from friend to romantic partner?’

“Well, that’s some unfortunately appropriate timing,” she observed. Heather glanced at Valencia. She grimaced and rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna regret this.”

Heather crouched beside Valencia’s chair and began skimming through the article. As she took in each behavior on the list, flashes of images appeared in her mind’s eye.

Clue #1 Personal Questions Valencia wanting stories for every aspect of the rooms at her old house... being so earnestly fascinated by all the hobbies she let fall by the wayside and skills she never fully developed... prompting her just enough to learn how she really felt about her parents...

Clue #2 Changing Space Or, rather, eliminating it, Heather learned upon reading the paragraph. Valencia bumping against her as they climbed the stairs... often sitting so close they were touching from hip to knee... Valencia grabbing her hand to thank her even though a verbal expression would’ve sufficed...

Clue #3 Mirrored Behavior Valencia following her lead at the disastrous Sex Toy party, copying her body language and responses to the drama that unfolded, sticking so close to her side that sometimes they moved and reacted as one...

Clue #4 Eye Contact There were too many now, parading through her memory in a flickering series like photographs in a zoetrope. Valencia, never shying from her gaze, always lingering with warmth and trust behind her dark irises...

Heather frowned. Everything was stacking up favorably, but none of it felt irrefutable after a day of Valencia obsessing over her ex-boyfriend’s new flame. Besides, many of those meaningful moments could easily be attributed to Valencia’s concern over being a good friend. Their trio meant the world to her, and she was not shy about expressing that fact.

If anything, Heather’s own actions might give cause for scrutiny. She squirmed uncomfortably with the knowledge that she’d been making a lot of exceptions for Valencia ever since they began spending regular time together. It felt important to help ease Valencia into this new world of female friendships, and to look out for her as the transition presented challenges. That being said, a commitment to offering herself as a dependable guide did nothing to explain away the quickening of Heather’s pulse every time their physical contact lasted for longer than was socially customary.

Heather’s sigh echoed through the stillness. “Guess I might as well read the last one.”

Clue #5 Special Attentiveness ‘When you are with the person in question, do they do the following: Offer you their coat when the air gets cold?’

Heather turned slowly and looked at the cover - her childhood quilt - where it lay wrapped snugly around Valencia.

“... Crap.” She dragged the scrollbar back to the top of the page and stood. “Nope, universe, we’re done here. That’s on-the-nose even for you. It is way too early in the day for you to be at-ing me directly, so just... chill.”

Valencia opened one eye at the sound of Heather’s voice. “Did I miss something? Is everything okay?”

Heather jammed her hands into the pockets of her shorts. “Don’t worry. You’ve still got hours before sunrise. Go back to sleep.”

Valencia tilted her head to indicate the vacant chair between her seat and Rebecca’s. “Maybe you could come out here too, so you’re not the only one sleeping alone.”

Heather laughed quietly. “Day-long lower back pain and breadcrumbs stuck to my chin. Sounds super tempting.”

A slow, sleepy grin crossed Valencia’s face. “Yeah, that’s fair. See you in the morning?”

“I’ll be around.”

“Mm-kay.” Valencia hugged the cushion and fell silent.

Heather strode back in the direction of her room, but a parting sentiment from Valencia halted her steps.

“G'night, Heather.”

Heather gripped the corner of the wall and looked over her shoulder. “Goodnight, V.”

#H+V FF #CEG Writing by Me #Helencia #Heather x Valencia

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harryseyebrows · 6 years

Text

Confetti Mouth

Here’s the newest installment of the Hazoff verse! I spent way too much time on pinterest earlier and ended up nailing down the visuals for all of the interiors and exteriors from the time the twins are born all the way until pre-baby 4. So, this is Harry and Jeff going to see their second house that they upgrade to when the boys are roughly 4 (The Twins) and 3 (River). 2.2k of gross fluff with some inappropriate language, but that’s about it. Edited by me.

If Harry was suspicious when Jeff told him that the kids were at his mom’s house for the day and that he had something planned for them, he never showed it. He didn’t question it when Jeff loaded him into the car and jumped on the highway. He still didn’t question it when they were still on the road forty-five minutes later. He just sat quietly in the passenger seat, a small smile on his face, while he hummed along with the radio. Jeff kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting in Harry’s over the center console.

Jeff was giddy the entire time, but he had to keep it concealed so he didn’t give anything away, even though Harry seemed dead-set on remaining oblivious to everything, likely pleased to have a day of relative peace and quiet without the kids. Still, Jeff was practically vibrating in his seat.

He had made that same drive a few times, the first being his initial look at the house, after being in correspondence with the realtor for a few weeks. Keeping it a secret from Harry had been a feat, working exclusively in incognito tabs, only taking phone calls on his lunch break at work so Harry wouldn’t be able to overhear. He had gone to visit the house a few more times, to check on different renovations and to simply just look at it, standing in the empty living room, trying to picture all of their furniture inside of it, visualizing how it would fill the space, how it would look with his family in it.

Though, a part of him has felt odd about not involving Harry in the process. Buying a house is a pretty big deal, and Harry had been so hands-on with the first one, really passionate about making sure that everything was near-perfect, that Jeff isn’t sure how he’ll react to being edged out of the initial decision. However, Jeff is pretty confident that he knows Harry’s tastes by now, so hopefully it will be a good surprise.

Pulling onto the quiet residential street, Harry is still sitting in his seat, looking out the window and evidently feeling very amicable. Jeff hopes it lasts.

He pulls into the driveway of 649 Hillsea Ave and cuts the engine. Harry’s smile gains a nervous quality, thinning a bit as he eyes Jeff suspiciously.

“Do you wanna get out?” Jeff asks.

“Why? Are we visiting someone?”

Jeff just shakes his head and hops out of the car, moving around to open Harry’s door for him and help him down.

“What is this?” Harry asks, nerves finally starting to fully manifest, his voice flinty getting louder.

Jeff can’t answer him, too full-up on joy and excitement. He’s afraid that if he opens his mouth, confetti is going to fly out, or something equally ridiculous.

“Seriously, Jeff, can you fucking say something? You’re freaking me out.”

Jeff nods his head in the direction of the realtor’s sign on the front yard, with the “SOLD” sign sitting proudly on top.

Harry turns and whips back around, his eyes wide, face turning pink. “What is this?” he whispers.

Jeff clears his throat, a lump suddenly forming. “It’s your’s. Well, our’s, if you want it.” He wiggles his fingers in a poor imitation of jazz-hands, “Surprise?”

Harry rakes a hand through his own hair, lip starting to tremble dangerously. His voice cracks. “What?”

“I know it seemed like a pipe dream, getting a bigger house. But that was a couple years ago. And we haven’t really talked about it since. But I’ve worked out all the finances and with my new position at work… we can do it. Well, I went ahead and did it, actually. And I wanted to surprise you.” Jeff closes the gap between them and wraps an arm around Harry’s shoulders. He’s relieved when Harry melts into him.

“I-- I don’t know what to say.” Harry says into Jeff’s shoulder. Before Jeff can respond, he continues. “Jeff. This house… it has two balconies.” He lifts his head like he’s double-checking, biting his lip like he’s hesitating. His eyes are asking, Can we really afford this?

Jeff grins. His cheeks are going to start hurting soon, he’s smiling so much. “Do you wanna see the inside?”

Harry nods, a smile of his own starting to creep onto his face.

Jeff wiggles the fresh key out of his jeans pocket and presses it into Harry’s open palm, letting him do the honors.

It’s more than satisfying, watching Harry’s jaw literally drop after only stepping into the foyer. All of the walls are white for now, because Jeff wanted Harry to have a completely blank canvas to work with, so everything is bright and clean, amplified by the natural light that all of the windows provide. If Jeff is being honest, the door and windows sold this house to him; everything about the house is beautiful, but they’re the features that he loves the most.

This will be their first two-story house, and the big staircase is hard to miss in the front hall, all dark wood and simple trim. All of the rooms are empty for now, long expanses of deep hickory hardwood floors flanking the foyer, a living room to the right and a dining room to the left.

Harry looks like he’s floating as he moves, stepping slowly and making the floors creak satisfyingly, like the crunch of a good loaf of bread. Apparently the house was built in the thirties and has great bones. All the floors are original but have been sanded and refinished. Jeff follows silently while Harry explores, watching as he drags his fingers over built-ins and door frames, his green eyes making sweeping arcs as he surveys everything from the bottom to the top.

They make their way to the kitchen, where the island is bigger than their entire current kitchen. The countertops are a dark granite with white cabinets, paired with a neutral, small-tiled backsplash. The range is huge, and it even has a big brushed stainless steel hood.

Harry inhales sharply. “Jeffrey, there’s a pot filler.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jeff snorts. “I had it installed.”

Harry is on him in a second, wrapping a leg nearly around one of Jeff’s hips, clinging like his life depends on it. “God,” he breathes out. “I’m so sorry I’ve been so weird and quiet, I love it. Everything. I love you.” He loosens his hold marginally so he can lean back and kiss all over Jeff’s face.

“How can you love everything if you’ve only seen part of the first floor? We still haven’t done upstairs and the backyard,” Jeff says. Harry pinches him. “Oh, yeah. And I guess I like you too.”

They poke around downstairs for a few more minutes. Jeff shows Harry the half-bath and all of the closets. Harry starts verbally planning all of the storage racks he’s going to get from Ikea and Jeff nods away, pleased that Harry seems much more enthused now. It was a lot to take in at first, so Jeff doesn’t blame him for being a bit shocked, but having outwardly happy and excited Harry is far superior.

On the upstairs landing, while peering down the hallway, Harry tentatively asks, “How many bedrooms does it have?”

“Four, including the master. There’s an office, though. If we wanted another bedroom, for whatever. Or, like.. I already talked to a builder. We could either do some shifting with the current structure or add on to the downstairs.” Jeff says it as mildly as possible. The boys are a handful already, and while it’s on the table -- having another baby someday -- it’s not something they really talk about in the present.

Harry’s face remains pleasant, though. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this. I feel kinda bad, that you had to do it all by yourself.”

“It was no problem. You take care of the kids most of the time, so the least I could do is get you a nice house.”

Harry’s cheeks turn bright pink. “Our house is nice. I mean-- well, the one we’re currently living in.”

“It is. I’m gonna miss it.”

“But?”

“But this is good. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Harry exhales. “Of course. It’s gorgeous. And now the boys will be able to have their own rooms,” he pauses, “It was time.”

“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Harry ducks his head, bashful, like they haven’t been married for years now. “You’re being very sweet today.”

“Am I not sweet everyday?”

“Hm. No comment.”

Jeff pinches Harry’s butt when he turns on his heel to head down the hall, and is rewarded with a very undignified yelp.

They peruse the bedrooms, discussing how great the natural light is and plans for where they’re going to position beds and furniture for the boys’ rooms. The master bedroom is last, and Harry nearly cries when he walks in. When Jeff asks why, Harry thickly says, “It has crown molding,” like that’s some type of valid reason to be brought to tears. He supposes today has been an emotional day, so Jeff won’t give him shit for it.

The master is one of two rooms that gets a balcony; the other is a small sitting area near the upstairs landing, which is likely going to be overrun by the boys.

“Are we gonna put chairs out there? Oh, imagine having coffee out there in the morning? We need to do that, like, immediately. Which reminds me, when are we moving in?” Harry says all of this practically in one breath.

“Yes, we can do that,” Jeff laughs. “And I have everything arranged already. I just need you to figure out which days will work best for you and the kids, and then we can go from there.”

Harry’s nostrils flare and he gets that glint in his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. “You are so getting laid tonight. Like, the most laid anyone has ever been laid. The ultimate laid.”

“Didn’t you know? That was the whole reason for this entire thing. I was angling for sex.”

“I’m not even mad.” Harry shrugs.

The master bathroom is absolutely enormous and Harry is apparently in love. Even as they’re walking back downstairs, he keeps talking about the glassed-in shower and the jacuzzi jet tub.

As soon as they step on the back deck, though, Harry goes quiet again. The entire backyard is all fenced-in, a huge expanse of perfectly green grass equipped with a stone patio, a swing set, and space for a garden. Most of it gets direct sunlight, but there’s a big oak tree that provides some shade. Jeff already has plans for putting up an standing umbrella, and maybe even a hammock. There are two smaller trees towards the back that should be able to support one, and he knows Harry would love it.

When he looks at Harry, he can tell exactly what he’s thinking, just by the expression on his face: soft, half-smiling, and a little bittersweet. He always looks like that when he’s either thinking of the kids or watching them play in real time. Jeff asked him once, why he looks like he’s caught between happy and a bit sad, to which Harry explained that he loves seeing the kids exactly as they are, but he’s already sad for the future, when they won’t be little anymore. Jeff is more of a “roll with the punches” type of guy, but he gets it.

Turning his attention to the yard again, Jeff can conjure up the same image he has been for weeks now. Jude and Eli on the swings, River trying to climb up the slide instead of going down it. All three of his boys running through the grass. Harry using the sit down mower to cut the lawn, having the boys take turns for a ride-along on his lap.

Jeff even dares another thought, one he only indulges in every now and again -- a fourth baby, boy or girl or whoever they want to be, because Jeff isn’t picky, crawling across a blanket while they have a family picnic. A fourth baby growing up with three older brothers who loves them and torments them in equal measure. A fourth baby who will only ever know this big, beautiful house, with plenty of room to play and grow. The house that they needed and wanted and everything in between.

Jeff is pulled out of his thoughts when Harry slips their fingers together, bumping shoulders.

“So, do you like it?” Jeff asks, feeling quite smug.

Harry narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Jeffrey. I can take back what I said earlier.”

“Bullshit. There’s a pot filler in your new kitchen. I know that shit gets you going. You’ll only be punishing yourself.”

“Excuse me,” Harry scoffs. “That is… entirely not true.”

“You’re a shitty liar.”

“Honesty is the best policy, Jeffrey.”

“Well then can you be honest with me for a second? I promise I’m not fishing for anything. I just want to make sure that you’re really okay with all of this.”

“Of course. I’m so, so happy right now,” Harry reassures before smirking. “So happy that I thought about blowing you in the kitchen when you first showed it to me. Right by the stove, so I could keep an eye on my new appliance the entire time.”

“I knew it.”

Harry laughs and tugs on Jeff’s hand. “Come on. I wanna go look at that tub again.”

“Lead the way,” Jeff says. His cheeks do hurt from smiling.

#yes i picked house number 4 bc it Feels Right™#my fic #hazoff abo #tell me ur thoughts #honestly this verse is an excuse for me to utilize my fantasy domestic dialogue

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dreadhaus-literature · 5 years

Text

{Valentine’s Collection} #3

“I always thought marriage was a dead end, but…with you, I think it’s worth a shot.”

Tony Stark’s words might have gotten lost to the wind if it weren’t for Monica always listening for him. Around them, the park’s lights twinkled and winked against the dark night sky, and Monica would have been surprised at the lack of people if she hadn’t the suspicion that her incredibly rich boyfriend hadn’t rented the entire city park for their date tonight. Beneath the wooden bridge, inky black water babbled as brooks tend to do, lending an almost musical backdrop to the melancholy of Tony’s admission, and it was telling he wasn’t looking at Monica as he’d said it. He was staring out over the stream, his expressive brows furrowed, his eyes seeing not the water, but a past memory that still stung as if it were fresh and bleeding, still. Without hesitation, Monica placed her small hand over Tony’s on the bridge’s banister, and after a moment his fingers closed over hers, trapping her fingers against his palm.

“It isn’t even about the playboy thing,” Tony continued as if he hadn’t paused, shaking his head. “You know me better than that, you know I was filling a void--or trying to, rather unsuccessfully, which is why there’s more names in my past than the guest list to one of my parties.”

Monica laughed softly. Tony’s past might bother others but it didn’t bother her, not when he’d never given her a reason to not trust him, or to doubt him. The moment they’d met that life seemed to fall away for him, so that she got the full brunt of Tony’s attention--and the man, despite having so much on his plate, had a lot of attention to give. Monica had always had all of it.

“It was because I thought my mom, she was trapped with my dad.” Tony’s abrupt end to his sentences were sometimes jarring, but Monica understood it was his mind processing at the speed of light, compartmentalizing his emotions so that he was always one step ahead of even himself--that was how he stayed on top. “That wedding ring on her finger might as well have been a handcuff with a chain on it, keeping her inside our house when she deserved better. And I always told myself, I was never going to do that to someone.”

Tony’s past was not a secret to Monica--not many knew his father was abusive, and it wasn’t because Tony was some secretive person. The entire world knew he was Iron Man, after all. Tony just didn’t use it as a crutch, he never used it as an excuse even when it could have been one, like when he was struggling with his alcoholism. Monica could remember his lowest points, when she found him on his bathroom floor, crying openly because he’d failed again, the broken bottle of scotch mixing blood and alcohol because Tony had been force-fed alcohol since he was a child and that was the only coping mechanism he knew. She’d sat on that floor with his head in her lap, his arms so tight around her waist she could hardly breathe and she’d listened to him drunkenly make not excuses, but promises that he’d be the better man, next time--and they weren’t empty. Tony’s climb from the bottom of the mountain was slippery, not even the Tony Stark was perfect and of course he slipped but who didn’t? Monica didn’t blame him, she couldn’t, because he always tried. He did what he promised and he only did it because of her.

“You haven’t trapped me in a relationship, Tony.” Monica moved beneath the hollow of his broad shoulder, felt him shift so that he was standing behind her, his hands on either side of her on the wooden banister.

“Yes I have, but it’s different. This is because I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else, and I can’t stand the thought of waking up without you tomorrow.” Tony lowered his dark head, pressing a kiss to her cheek, before resting his against hers. “I wanted to propose to you the day I met you. If I had been the man I am now, I would have, but I knew you deserved better.”

Monica laughed, again, shaking her head slightly as she leaned back against his strong chest. She could faintly feel the heat of his arc reactor against her bare shoulder, her designer dress showing off tantalizing views of her because Tony adored showing her off.

“I’m...not at all surprised by that, but I guess I am surprised you managed to avoid your impulses long enough to wait.”

Tony chuckled. “It wasn’t easy. I still bought a ring that day.”

Monica shook her head again, her tummy flipping at that revelation.

“Did you know that was five yeas ago today?”

Monica tipped her head up, meeting his gaze. “R-Really? Five years ago, today?”

“You asked what the occasion was when I asked you out on this date, and I sort of lied.” Tony took his hands off the banister, moving them over Monica’s hips to turn her to face him--but he didn’t release his hold. “Sweetheart, have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Monica blushed prettily under the street lamps lining the bridge and the adjacent sidewalks, lowering her gaze. “At least twenty times tonight.”

“Only twenty? That’s unacceptable.” Tony lowered his head, unable to stop himself kissing those painted lips, savoring the fullness with a deep noise of contentment. “You always taste like candy.”

“T-Tony, focus,” Monica’s shaky fingers came up to his lapel, raising her gaze to his. “You said you lied, about tonight?”

“I told you it was just because i wanted to show you off, like always, that I didn’t need a special occasion to spoil my favorite girl in the world but tonight, I did.” Tony didn’t allow her to look away, chasing her gaze with his when she couldn’t stand the intensity. “You’ve been by me through so much, Monica. Through things you didn’t have to. And I realized the reason I wasn’t a good enough man to marry you the day I met you is because I needed you to help me become that man.”

Monica wanted to argue she thought Tony was an incredible man, had been from the moment they met and he would continue to be incredible without her--but she knew better. Tony would derail the entire conversation to argue with her because he didn’t allow her to put herself down or diminish what she did for him. Tony was not shy about anything and he was not shy about ensuring she, and anyone else who would listen, knew that the reason he got through his battle with alcoholism, his struggles with PTSD, the reason he was a stable man who could be an Avenger and still run a billion-dollar corporation was because of her. She made sure he ate, she made sure he slept, she ensured his work spaces were clean and they shared a therapist--because for all the help Monica gave to Tony, he did the same for her. Tony moved heaven and earth and spent what money he needed to spend to ensure she had the help she needed for her depression. Their living floor in Stark Tower was fitted with special UV amplifying windows that flooded the penthouse with vitamin D from the sun itself, providing Monica with a little extra boost of literal sunshine for her low days. The therapist they both saw was exclusive to them, on call 24/7 for when Monica needed her, and JARVIS monitored Monica every minute of every day so that Tony could always, always know how she was and when she needed him. Tony would, and had, left business meetings and Avengers duties alike when Monica needed him, showing her time and time again that he put her above everything else in the world--because as far as Tony was concerned, there wasn’t anything else in the world more important than she was.

“You couldn’t possibly know this, but I told myself I’d give you some time to decide I’m too much of a mess and try to leave. If you did, I wouldn’t propose--I wouldn’t let you leave, so don’t go getting any ideas,” Tony raised his dark brows, and despite the gravity of his words it made Monica giggle. “But if you thought you couldn’t live with me exclusively I wouldn’t ask you to marry me.”

Monica fiddled with Tony’s tie, the designer cut of his suit enough to nearly distract her completely. Tony always complimented her, most times overly so, but he was definitely no slouch and Monica found him so attractive sometimes he was hard to look at. As if sensing her thoughts, Tony dipped his head to give her another chaste but loving kiss.

“Still, you stayed. The anniversary of the day we first met is today, and you’re still here with me, five years later. If that’s not a sign, well--actually, you know what, forget I said that.” Tony shook his head. “If Strange finds out I’m believing in signs I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Monica giggled. “I might have to tell him.”

“Don’t you dare.” Tony gave her a playful look of warning. “If I have to start listening to him, I’m going to make you do the same.”

“I...like listening to Stephen.”

“Stephen? You call him Stephen? You call him Doctor--actually no you don’t address him at all.” Tony shook his head again as if to slam that door closed.

Tony’s jealousy fits could rival a five year old’s and Monica would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t like making him a teeny bit jealous, just so he’d be extra needy and she could kiss it all better.

“Then what do I do when he calls me?”

“He calls you?” Tony’s incredulous tone was laced with bitter jealousy and a tint of agitation. “I’m going to hurl him and his magic labcoat into a volcano in the Savage Land.”

“It’s a cloak, not a labcoat, and Tony don’t be ridiculous,” Monica cupped his cheeks, turning him back to face her because he absolutely was about to go kick down Stephen’s front door. She was definitely not going to tell him that...Stephen did call her. That hadn’t been a joke. “What were you saying about signs?”

Tony was calmed, placated immediately at the soft touch of Monica’s fingers on his face and he gave her that heart-stopping smile, his fingers gripping a little tighter along her waist, obviously possessive even though there wasn’t a soul around to see--he didn’t care. He did it for himself.

“I’m saying I love you, Monica. I loved you the first moment I saw you. I knew then it was going to be you forever, whether or not you ever agreed to spend the rest of your life with me...” Tony slowly lowered himself to one knee, Monica’s hands slipping from his cheeks to cover her cheeks as he moved one hand from her waist to the pocket of his suit. He slipped a small velvet box from the pocket, opening it to reveal an engagement ring that had to cost more than what most people paid for their entire homes. The diamond in the center was cut and shaped like Tony’s triangular arc reactor, and Monica would find this anniversary date was engraved on the inside of the ring band--proof that Tony had bought it the day he’d met her. “...But I still hope you’ll agree. I still hope even if you can’t, that you’ll wear the ring anyway.”

Monica couldn’t speak around the emotion trapped in her throat, tears already threatening to spill down her cheeks.

“Monica, will you marry me?” Tony held up the ring box, his hand moving from her hip to reach for her left hand. Without a word she nodded, tears spilling over dark lashes like stars across the night sky; she put her shaking hand in his and he immediately pressed a kiss to her fingers, right over her ring finger. Deftly, he slipped the ring from it’s box and onto her finger and with the weight there, Monica felt her physical tie to Tony--the first of many, as he stood to claim her mouth.

The kiss was full of love and passion, of promises of forever because Tony meant what he’d said. Even if Monica couldn’t have agreed to be his bride she would always be the love of his life, the one he was hopelessly, helplessly devoted to because he owed her everything--his fame, fortune, his recovery, and yes, his life. His strong arms slipped around her waist, near crushing her to him as she kissed him back, and he could feel the cold band of her ring against his cheek as she cupped his face and returned the love he was pouring into her. This day would always be the most significant to Tony; it was the day he met Monica, the woman who gave his life meaning and brought him back from the brink of all things dark and unhealthy. It was now also the day she’d agreed to be beside him always, the most meaningful gift to a man most would argue already had the world.

Now, Tony would agree. Now, he had the world.

#{theme} : for monica #{collection} : 14 days of valentine's #{character} : tony stark #{ used my love by sia for inspo }#{ one of my favorite love songs }#{ really think it shines through for this piece }#{ was extremely nice to write }

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veridium · 6 years

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Thank You 300 Followers - Here’s Some Heartache!

Thank you for enabling me, everyone

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is not a chronological part of my #Theiaphine romance arc. This story takes place a year after Inquisitor Theia Trevelyan disbands the Inquisition, marries, and moves her sights to the incoming conflict threatening all of Thedas and the world. It is also a very emotional and tumultuous moment in the lives of Theia and her wife, and as such I will warn you: it is some sad shit. Also, if you don’t want to spoil the chronology of their romance, maybe don’t read this...and I’m sorry (lol).

The Inquisition had been disbanded for a year now, and yet for Theia her work never truly ended. She still felt the pressure to perform, to represent something greater than her own identity. Even with all she had sacrificed to save Thedas, she felt spurred to give more – as if her body and spirit had finally resigned to her greater purpose. Still, the concerns of her life did not waver from her heart. She still stood at the side of the woman she loved in a time of war, and now a time of preparation. She still pushed herself to be a better Mage, even with the loss of her hand and forearm. And now, she was preparing for perhaps the most complicating eventuality of her life: becoming a Mother while one of the leaders of a covert operation to stop the destruction of the entire world at the hands of a former ally and friend.

The ocean air laced with salt, easygoing and in no hurry. It was a calm morning for the ports and for the halls of the apartments House Montilyet owned along Rialto Bay. Her healer had recommended remaining near the water for the first few months, in order to relax her nerves and keep her mind preoccupied with the business of the surrounding city life.

She gazed absent-mindedly in the floor-length mirroring metal that stood in their bedchamber, as a servant helped secure her tunic dress from behind. Her hair in wavy curls and tied up into a ponytail, a beautiful façade to a busy mind. Among her thoughts, reports from Leliana – though Thedas called her Divine Victoria – letters from the Seeker’s hideout in the mountains, and intel gathering from various agents scattered across the landscape. She did not need one for the Imperium, however; she had a direct voice from the heart in a dear friend whose voice echoed through a messenger crystal at every chance he got.

Once she was fully ready, she turned and departed her room, single-mindedly heading for her office. Well, their office. The thought of two important and busy women sharing one work space would puzzle some people, but once they were invited into the large room, it was understood why. In two corners were each of their workspaces: one corner, an illustrious library of tomes, papers, and scrolls, along with a fireplace and a bearskin run reminiscent of the décor of the Free Marches. On the other end of the rectangular room was another desk and chair, ornamentally designed, and matching the large window overlooking the sea ports. The window was rarely closed. Framing it were bookshelves, statuettes, and artwork.

Theia entered into the middle of the room, which was bordered by a long and thin balcony which overlooked the small garden courtyard. The sun was bearing down on the rustic stone of the architecture, facilitating a warm and dry atmosphere. That kind of weather did well for Theia’s pale skin, but she grew only slightly darker than she had been in their days at Skyhold; the phenotypes of her heritage were hard to shake off.

Her eyes went immediately to the leather-bound booklet of papers that rested in the middle of her desk. She grabbed it and unbound it from the leather string, opening and searching for the bottom line in all the jargon. It was from the Divine: more detected movements of elves departing their posts and homes and retreating somewhere rural, some place hard to pinpoint. Meanwhile, “special emissaries” – the Divine’s word for her spies – had been monitoring the Qunari advancement on the Imperium with grim conclusions. Her friend and now Magistrate Dorian Pavus was working under ever-increasing pressure, and his faction proved rigorous in the face of not only political opposition, but decreasing time.

With all this in mind, anyone who knew Theia during the early days of the Inquisition would say they felt a shift in her soul, as if she had aged ten years in the span of three. Perhaps it was the betrayal of her friend that hardened her heart and drew the line in the sand. Or, maybe, the loss of her arm that left her permanently jaded to a degree. The core of who she was managed to survive, if in more episodic expressions. The main thing that changed was that she was careful who witnessed it – who still got to see Theia for who she was, and not merely what she must do.

Her quiet time alone with the reports was interrupted by the sound of her partner entering with a courier, who was feverishly taking notes per dictation.

“Tell my brother to take count of all the masts we have left-over from the renovation, and see if we cannot find some use for the fabrics elsewhere. Particularly if we can experiment with designs for the several ships I need built,” Josephine ordered as she walked with determination to her desk.

“Yes, My Lady,” the courier nodded, before departing quickly back out the door.

From across the vast room, Josephine sensed her presence, and couldn’t help but grin smartly as she, too, got her eyes lost in some important documents.

“Mi amor, you brood with increased intensity these days,” she said out loud.

“Funny, and I thought the servants were merely joking when they got caught calling me Mistress Ice Dragon,” Theia mused, finishing up a sentence she was writing on the correspondence in front of her.

“You know they were drunk, do not take it personally. Besides, there is something…magnetic about such a title,” Josephine’s playfulness had an ultimate goal: avoid Theia’s now heightened temper at all costs, if it could be out-maneuvered. Such a task proved only possible for the most capable, such as herself.

“Yes, of course, I much prefer it to all the rest. In fact we should combine them all into an ultimate title: The Herald of the Ice Dragon Inquisition? It’s catchy,” her words were laced with a saltiness, as much as she tried to have a sense of humor, she could not help but have low patience these days.

With that, Josephine chuckled, and withdrew from her end of the room in order to arrive at her woman’s side. She came around to her side of the desk, sitting on the edge to her right, her eyes glimmering in the abundant daylight.

“What is the latest from the Divine? She sent me a letter a few days ago, but it was more personal in nature.”

“Nothing I didn’t already expect, unfortunately. More elves retreating to somewhere, the Qunari are not backing down from the Imperium’s borders. Solas was right, with their defeat in the Deep Roads, they are now striking at Tevinter with the vengeance of a wounded animal.”

“It was imperative that we defeat them. The Exalted Council’s destruction would have been more disastrous than the Conclave.”

“Yes, but now I fear we have won the battle only to lose the war.”

“Surely not. With the ships my brother is working on in the yard, we can have a sustainable fleet to support our forces if they need it.”

Theia pursed her lips. Josephine spoke of their months-long project they began shortly after she got the Montilyet trading fleet back on its feet. Using some of the smaller ships as conduits, they began transferring correspondences, agreements, and acquisitions in an underground, transactional process. Eventually, they even dispatched explorers to secure new raw materials for their eventual plans of a security fleet that could withstand evacuation, maritime battle, and even land-based natural disasters. A smaller, more maneuverable fleet to stand by should land become too dangerous to undergo operations.

“You still sound the way you did when we were in Skyhold. So full of hope and promise. I wonder how you did it,” Theia admitted with a vulnerability in her tone, now

“I watched the woman I thought would be lost to me forever, come back to me, from a most impossible battle. Now, she and I live the life I thought was foolish to daydream. I have an endless reservoir of foolish resolve,” Josephine played.

At that, Theia smirked. “I am sorry I’ve been so distant. Between the sickness and the affairs we have going on, there are times when I feel like I am more of the kind of person Varric said I’d be: this embodiment of intimidating ideas, and not a human being.”

“You have managed to be both for this long, mi amor, and will continue to. Just take care of yourself, please, for both your sakes,” Josephine referred to the child that was now growing inside of her, the child that would be their heir and their shining beacon of faith in a time of great duress.

“I will. I’m trying. It doesn’t help that no one else knows besides you and Dorian. I’m surprised Dorian has kept it to himself this long, it surely is a sign he has more vital matters to concern himself with. I will need to tell Cassandra and Lelia—Divine Victoria, before rumors or spies gets the information to them first. They would not be pleased with me,” she stood from her chair and took hold of the letter she had finished. Folding it up precisely, she reached for her small bottle of parchment wax, and began warming it over the one candle she had lit for such purposes.

It would only be a month or so before her abdomen would start swelling, and become noticeable even other the shapelessness of her tunic gowns. She had to devise the best and most covert way of letting her closest allies know of this recent development. Surely they would understand if she could just use the right words, or provide the most accurate context.

No matter what, though, she knew it would not be smooth sailing.

The Seeker was anxiously awaiting word from the former Inquisitor, seeing as how she had dispatched pages of updates and time-sensitive information for her feedback. The Seekers had been rebuilding and training intensively for months in the mountains, free from the momentum of politics and everyday debauchery of Orlais. She was personally overseeing the reformation, and with that came great power and great nerve. One of the few sources of solace, as well as connection to the outside world, was her frequent communications with Lady Trevelyan and the Divine.

She paced along the floor runner of the foyer, waiting for the courier to arrive with the morning letters. When he finally did so, breathing rather heavily from having ran up the flights of stairs to her wing of the fortress, her eyes sparked with impatience. He handed her a stack about an inch thick; surely one of them would be from Theia.

There were two. One that was more plain, probably of logistical reports and the status of the ship fleet. Then a second, with personal parchment, sealed with her own emblem.

Curious, Cassandra thought. Why the need for two? Has something happened?

Stepping into her private study, first she opened the plainer letter. It was official business, nothing out of the ordinary – a confirmation of support here, a comment in the margins there. So, why a need for a personal note? Typically, when Theia wished to say something personal, she snuck it in at the end of reports.

Her fingers nervously opened the second letter, the wax snapping as it broke open. Her eyes went immediately to the first line:

“Dear friend,

I would have included this in the reports, but, I did not wish for something so private to be shuffled into affairs of business. I know you will react strongly to this, but, it is something I won’t be able to hide from you much longer. I am with child, due 7 months from now. I am well, and well-cared for. Rest assured, I will not shirk my duties or correspondences during the remainder of my pregnancy. I have sent a letter to the Divine relaying this news, so do not feel bound to secrecy with her. After all, who could dare keep a secret from our beloved friend?

Sending well wishes your way,

T”

The Seeker’s heart sank deeper into her ribs as she read the note. How could she do this? Now, of all times? Her body filled with fearful dread. It was not that a child wasn’t a blessing from the Maker, it was the timing of it. Surely, she had thought Theia would remain focused on the responsibilities she had to the forces under her control and advisement, not do something that would require so much of her energy. And what of the child of the Inquisitor? Would such an identity ever promise safety in the face of war?

Cassandra sat down at her chair, pondering how to react to this news in a way that would not alienate a friend she valued so highly. Throughout all the years they had worked together, she trusted Theia to have fair judgment, and to understand the brevity of her choices. Now, something had changed.

Just as she was about to put her hand to paper, and write her response, another courier staffer barged into her study. Her face, annoyed with such a gesture, looked up with tense eyes and posture.

“Yes?” she huffed.

The man stepped forward, holding another letter, one that looked eerily familiar. It was the same parchment that Theia had used, only with a purple seal. It was Ambassador Montilyet’s emblem.

“My Lady, this came expedited from Antiva. Lady Montilyet sent it with most urgent orders to get it to your hand as quick as possible. The rider looked as if he hadn’t slept in two days.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed; she was exasperated with the apparent bureaucracy of the situation. Just how many personal letters would she receive from the same location? Could the two women not collaborate their message into one letter? For Maker’s sake—

As she stared down at the open letter, her heart experienced whiplash.

“Lady Cassandra,

It is with urgency and pain that I write to you to inform of that my wife, and your friend, suffered a miscarriage this morning. She is recuperating, but is under acute distress and pain, as you can imagine. I write to you not as a colleague or ally, but as the partner to your closest friend, and woman: come to Antiva to see her. She needs all the motivation she can get to recover. It would mean the world to me.

Kindest and most astute regards,

Lady Josephine Montilyet”

“Maker,” Cassandra said out loud, to the dismay of the courier standing before her. Her voice was sad, emotional, feeling, a sound that her men did not witness often.

“Have my horse prepared, and get me two guards to accompany me. I must go to Antiva immediately,” she ordered, hardening her resolve for the sake of saving face. As the man departed, she gathered the two letters, folding them into one another.

She rose from her chair and made her way to her fireplace. Without so much as a word or a sentimental expression, she tossed the papers into the fire. No one would know of her friend’s tragedy, lest they be acquainted with her blade or her fist.

The heat of the Antivan sky bore down on the back of the Seeker’s neck – this temperate weather was not her choice, nor was it what she was used to after about half a year in the mountains. The roads were hills, and the cobblestone under her horse’s feet was hot to the touch. The two guards that flanked her eyed the scenery with awe: being out of the desolate area they had been in was a much-needed retreat of sorts.

Finally, the Seeker had found the entryway to the Montilyet home. It was a tall stone façade with a gate that gave way into a courtyard, with a large double-door entryway with Antivan rounded columns. Although, the place felt eerily quiet and still, as if something very devastating had engulfed it, making it feel dimmer than the surrounding buildings.

Coming out of the opened doors was Josephine herself, wearing a dark purple gown and silver strands of ornamentation in her hair. In Antiva, mourning was marked by conservative dress and retiring from public social life temporarily – a grim choice indeed in the opulent grandeur of Rialto bay. The Seeker dismounted and immediately approached Lady Montilyet.

“Seeker, it is so good to see you,” she greeted, her hands collected in front of her, a ring being toyed with nervously between an index finger and thumb.

“Lady Montilyet,” Cassandra bowed her head in respect, “I came as soon as I got word. Where is she? How is her health?”

“Come with me, I will take you to her at once,” Josephine reached out a hand, beckoning her forward. Soon, they were walking side by side down a spacious corridor, servants stopping to look at the honorable guest that had come to see one of the Mistresses of the household.

“She bled for two days, so much so she went unconscious for several hours. The Healers were able to stem the bleeding, but, there was no salvaging the…” Josephine’s breath ran out as she blinked, trying to hold herself together. “She is still weak, but her prognosis is good. They cannot tell yet whether or not the damage has been done permanently.”

Cassandra was quiet with reverence towards the loss. “I have been praying for you both, Lady Josephine. I hope you know just how apologetic I am for this travesty.”

“Thank you. It has been…most difficult. Her pain has made her expectantly tumultuous in demeanor. I have been trying everything the Healers suggest to distract her, but, she is very stubborn as you well know.”

“If I may ask, what…was she doing, when it happened?”

Lady Montilyet was quiet, the footfalls of their walking being the only sound to remind them of where they were. Her eyes glazed a bit as she put together her response in her mind.

“We are not exactly sure. She had been preoccupied for many days, but, earlier this week she woke up screaming from a nightmare. When I awoke to the sound, I saw her crying there, hunched over, her night dress doused in blood. All I can hear is her screaming, even still. She will not tell me what the nightmare was of, nor will she sleep for more than two hours at a time, mostly out of sheer exhaustion.”

The Seeker had to hold back her own pang of emotion now, as they made their way up a flight of stairs into a wing with bedchambers.

“I must warn you, Seeker Cassandra, she is not herself. She may say hurtful, ambivalent comments to you. She does not mean them,” Josephine’s words were laced with hurt; her warning came from personal experience, and that made Cassandra feel even more sympathetic to her.

“Lady Montilyet, I…I do not know what to say to make this any easier on you, only that you of all people – both of you – deserve so much happiness for all you have endured.”

“Yes, well,” Josephine looked away, her eyes shifting as she kept hold of composure, “I have heard that many a time, Seeker, so forgive me if I come off as…unaffected. Her recovery room is just down this hall, fourth door to the left. Please tell her that I love her and I will see her tonight,” Josephine nodded solemnly and retreated back down the stairs, leaving Cassandra to stare down the hallway and feel the nerves in her chest dance. It had been many months since she last saw her friend in person, when she came to visit the fortress. Now, as much as she would be happy to see her, she almost with she could fast-forward in time and be visiting several more months from now, perhaps when Theia would feel better.

Making her way into the fourth doorway, the air was thick with incense – what she could only assume was supposed to be a sedative effect, as she felt slightly drowsy the more she inhaled. The room was dark, only lit by the reflection of the sunlight on the tile and mosaic-lined stone. The tapestries lining the balcony lightly shifted in the breeze, but otherwise it felt as though time had frozen them in place here.

There was a large bed, sheets disheveled, but covered a thin-framed figure. She then saw her messy and long blonde waves of hair. It looked as if she was sleeping, no longer able to fight the exhaustion.

Cassandra’s boots made ample noise on the floor, and soon Theia’s figure moved slightly, her legs curling and bending as they stretched. The Seeker came to a stop, several feet from the side of the bed, her eyes overburdened with sadness seeing her friend, a woman she had seen stand so tall, so resolutely against forces of peril, now facing something so much more destructive to her spirit.

Her stare was broken when Theia’s face looked back at her, her eyes slowly blinking awake.

“…C-Cassandra?” she groaned, the depth in her voice lingering from the days of crying she endured. Her face looked pale, as did her lips. The deep, dark circles under her eyes only comparable to the ones she had when she was in the prison, all those years ago, waiting to be questioned for her part in the Conclave disaster. That forlorn memory made the Seeker’s chest ache.

“Yes, my friend, it is me. I have come to see you,” Cassandra stepped forward, pivoting on her hip as she sat on the foot of the bed, an arm stretching out over the Inquisitor’s legs. Theia rubbed her face softly with the back of her hand, her brow furrowing as the surprise sank in. She pulled herself up, her abdomen still sore as she did so, but she managed. She adjusted her pillow against her back as she lay in place once more, taking pressure off of her stomach.

“I…assume, someone in particular wrote to you. And it was either our blessed Divine, or my wife,” she muttered, a hand resting instinctively on her stomach, the other falling to rest at her side.

Cassandra grinned. “Yes, Josephine wrote that I must come as soon as possible. Surely, you must not think you have to fight every antagonist without me at your side.”

“It is not a battle I face this time, Seeker, unless you wish to disembowel me and remove my ability to bear children. And that, I fear, has been taken care of already.”

Cassandra held her breath, hearing the roughness in her voice as she discussed something so horrific.

“My friend, you do not have to discuss it if you do not wish to. I came here to be of solace to you, in whatever capacity you need.”

“I do not need solace, Seeker, I need my child. Since I have lost her, I am rather satiated with the disappointment of life,” her words stung with resentment, and suddenly Cassandra saw the demeanor that Josephine had undoubtedly been exposed to for several days.

“How did you know it was…” her thinking out loud would be the death of her, but she said it, and now she was at the mercy of Theia’s answer, whatever it was.

Theia paused and looked out at the balcony, her eyes narrowed as they reacted to the contrast in light. “I felt it, it was…just a hunch, I suppose, but. I just knew. They say mothers always know, that they feel things others cannot possibly fathom. I felt her.”

“My Lady, I am so—“

“Do not apologize. I am so tired of hearing the processionals of ‘I am sorry.’ If everyone is so sorry, why can’t they find some way to return to me what was mine?” she seethed, but was too tired to fully express it. The soreness of her abdominal region curbed her fury.

Cassandra felt like weeping, watching her friend be reduced to such carnal emotions of grief. Then, as she saw the absence of her friend’s left arm, she was reminded of just how much more risky it was for Theia to remain enveloped in herself.

“Friend, are you sure you are taking adequate care of yourself, considering your special circumstances?” she asked with careful intrepedation.

Theia picked up on the intent rather easily. She was considerably not herself, but she still had her intellect and intuition in spades.

“Oh, now you fear I’ll be consumed by a despair demon, Seeker? Is this what is supposed to comfort me, my own friend looking at me as a possible target for her blade?”

“I did not say that, but you know as well as I do what the reality is of your existence.”

“I am a mother with no child, Seeker, that is the reality of my existence.”

“I know, I just wish—“

“Get out.”

Cassandra stopped herself, caught off guard by the sharp order she had been given. She had come all this way, dropping everything in order to do so, and she was being sent off as if she were a menial servant. It riled her ego viscerally, but she battled within herself to have compassion for her friend.

“My Lady, with all due respect,”

“No. Get out of my sight. You wish to scold me like everyone else. I want to sit here in my silence and grieve like I deserve. I never asked for you to come here,” she growled. From the narrowness of her gaze, her purple irises began stirring with color.

“Theia, I am not leaving.” She used her first name now, a unique and alarming urgency.

“If you do not leave you will be tossed out on the top of an ice sheet, Cassandra, I am warning you one last time,” Theia hissed back, her hand collecting into a fist that gripped onto her bedsheets.

“No. I have never abandoned your side when you needed it, and I will not do it—“

“GET. OUT.” She yelled now, in the most animalistic tone Cassandra had ever heard come from a woman. The pain almost felt like daggers shooting at her. But, if it was one thing the Seeker was always trained to do, it was to stare down the roaring fire from a dragon’s throat and continue forward, to do what must be done.

“You do not scare me, my friend,” she said calmly, stepping forward and dragging a knee across the bed as she sat close to Theia, who was now lurching away from her.

“Theia! Theia, stop,” she said low, putting her arms out and trying to wrap around Theia’s shoulders. She felt several punches against her chestplate as she slowly pulled the violent embrace of the woman she trusted with her life into her.

“Get off! I do not need to be coddled!” Theia yelled.

Some more resistance, but then she relented, one last fruitless punch against her friend’s armor. From her chest, Cassandra could hear and feel her friend sobbing, the deep, guttural sound of her voice sending sorrow through her.

Stillness, even if in agony, is still stillness.

Protectively, Cassandra stroked the back of Theia’s head, feeling the slight friction between her hair and her riding glove.

“It is alright. I promise,” she muttered as her friend now held onto her for dear life. They stayed like this for a while, while Theia’s crying seemed to be bottomless, as if the sea itself wished to be the source of her tears.

The remainder of the day passed into a night of armistice, and it was not until the following morning that the Seeker saw some reason to hope. While sitting in the courtyard and eating a modest breakfast alone at one of the tables, out walked Theia, slowly, unescorted, but tall. She wore a black dress, a purple sash tied multiple loops around her waist to gather the light fabric into some shape. Her hair was not decorated, but it looked washed, which was more than what she could say yesterday. It was the fifth night she had slept alone, reclusive.

Cassandra flinched as she saw her friend, and her eyes shined with pleasant surprise.

“My Lady, you are walking! Come, sit with me, do not rush,” she said as she chewed through a mouthful of food, standing to beckon her over.

Theia’s face was stoic, but cordial. She nodded once, accepting the offer as she made her way, fingers lightly grasping on the skirt of her gown as she stepped down some shallow stairs. She sat beside her friend, grunting under her breath as she did so.

“Cassandra, I wish to—“

“There is no need,” Cassandra interrupted, sitting down once more and anchoring her elbows on the table. “I understand that you are in a most difficult moment of your life, and I know the woman you are, underneath it all.”

Theia sighed shallowly, her eyes staring off blankly into space.

“Cassandra, that is just the thing, though – this is the woman I am. I cannot reverse what has happened, as much as I wish I could. I can never be the woman I was in the days of the Inquisition again. I haven’t been her for some time now.”

“Everyone has foundations to who they are, no matter what life’s changes do to impact their outlook. You are still the brave, kind, and strong person I befriended in war. Even if you do not find humor in the things you used to, you hold true to those virtues.”

A silence fell over them as they both sat, straight-backed and contemplative.

“Did you ever have a moment in your life when something was before you. A chance, to make your life about something you could have for yourself. Something that did not have to abide by outside rules or customs, that you nourished, and protected?” Theia’s tone almost sounded like dutiful sobbing the way it as so melodic.

“Yes, I have.”

“What then?”

“I…when I fell in love with a Mage, when I was young. I felt as though all of the rules I had held myself to no longer applied. I loved him, and he loved me, and that was the most sacred truth of us. When he died, I mourned him in private, because I did not wish to share my pain with anyone. I felt as though no one was worthy of such vulnerability. As if, such raw power of emotion could level entire buildings.”

Theia’s eyes flickered to her friend’s face as she spoke; Cassandra never discussed the Mage she once had as a lover, except that once. It was years ago. Theia never pressed her about it since, knowing just how important of a pivot it was in her life.

“That is how I feel about this. I do not want anyone near me. I feel like I have lost myself, and I’m wandering alone in in this spiral of a pathway, one side of it being some form of stability, the other the heart of my devastation. I keep trying to move forward, but I find it’s just the same twisting path, in and out of my despair. I do not know where it leads, or when I hope to stop and rest, my feet just…keep going.”

“But each time you re-enter your grief, you do so having survived it time and time again. You will continue to do so, until it feels like you have more control over just how close it gets to your heart. Trust me, my friend, you are the kind of person who can survive this.”

“I have survived everything, I am getting quite bored of it.”

“The dead would disagree with such a sentiment.”

“Spoken like someone who would know, Nevarran.”

Cassandra couldn’t help but grin in surprise. In a flash of seconds, her friend’s wit had made an appearance. She looked at her, and nodded in concession.

“Theia, I know I cannot possibly relate to your loss. But, I do know what it is to lose someone you love when a piece of your happiness relies upon them staying alive. You are anything but alone.”

Theia sighed, coupling her hands in her lap. “I understand that, but you must also concede just how lonely it is to be recognized as a heroine, someone who has done impossible things, and yet fail at what is supposed to come natural to you. It all feels backwards. I can hardly keep track of the illogical nature of my life.”

“A great deal of things come naturally to a woman, my friend. We are capable of most anything we invest our will into.”

“Yes, but that does not mean it does not bite us back for trying. If I may ask, would you walk with me? The healers say I must get some air, and distract myself,” her voice was half breath as she hoisted herself up from her seat. Cassandra agreed readily.

The gardens were lush but reverent in their stillness for Lady Trevelyan’s sorrow. Cassandra couldn’t help but notice just how lively and beautiful the scene would have been if only the fountains were spouting water, and the birds would come to visit on the disbursed seeds and nuts the servants would dish out every morning. Even the walls and facades of the building felt as though it had humbled itself to the concerns of its fair-haired occupant.

“I have had one of my assistants tend to the letters and dispatch responsibilities. I trust her to do so competently, and I will return to the duties myself very soon. I do not have a real choice,” Theia remarked as they walked.

“Theia, no one is doubting your dedication or fitness for your role. Do not race an enemy horse that does not exist,” the Seeker advised, hands behind her back.

“I know. Still, I cannot sit by and know that Divine Victoria must make up for the work of another person whilst she does the job of several. And you, my friend, cannot make such excursions to Antiva lightly.”

“We all make sacrifices for the needs of our allies. You have done more than enough to deserve such measures.”

“We all have, that doesn’t mean the world stops hurling towards disaster with each passing night.”

They came to a balcony view, one of many that overlooked the ports. They could see some of the Montilyet ships at port, secured and ready for whatever they were tasked with transporting. Somewhere nearby, surely Josephine was working, keeping herself busy whilst her mind fought off worrying about her wife, and the desire to go to her at every other minute.

“They are beautiful ships,” Cassandra complimented as they both peered down.

“Yes, Josephine was always one to combine style with pragmatism. They are fast and durable. Just like the ones we’re building for our forces, but those will be better, and well-armed.”

“Tell me, how has it been between you and Lady Montilyet? She seemed quite careful when she greeted me the other day.”

Theia let a moment of silence pass as she overlooked the shore, her throat stiffening with nervous feelings.

“Josephine and I…don’t quite know what to make of each other because of this. I am afraid I have hurt her badly. In the days after the incident I was very angry, and even malicious. I wanted to fight everyone around me. When I looked at her, when I heard her speak, it was as if every bone in my body felt this mixture of shame and resentment. I still resist the feeling that I’ve failed her,” Theia’s candidness was hard to swallow, but it felt good to speak truth to the feelings that had permeated the air.

“I am sorry to hear that. When is the last time you spoke to her?”

“She comes and bids me goodnight every night before she goes to sleep, and comes to bid good morning with breakfast. She sleeps in our room while I have recovered in the guest wing. I feel so out of my element, not having the ego to be the protective one anymore,” Theia leaned over the stone rail, elbows holding her chest up as she walked the people walk up and down the port.

“I am sure she is just as unnerved to see you be so defenseless.”

“Agh, she knows what I look like when I am at the end of my rope. She’s always been the voice inside my head, and in front of my face, inspiring me to find one more foot of it to hold onto. But, I think she is torn between grieving her own loss and being strong for me. And I have made it very hard for her to want to be strong,” Theia could admit when she was wrong, but she hadn’t the time or energy to do so whilst recovering both physically and psychologically. Indeed, she couldn’t even promise that this moment of reflection would resonate with her; perhaps in an hour she would be back to being distraught and mean.

“I have always told you, honesty is the best way to protect what is important to you.”

Theia patted Cassandra on the shoulder as she took a step back from the railing. “This is true, if inconvenient,” she replied. “Come, I wish to show you the rest of the place. Maybe you’ll get some sunburn, if I keep exposing you to the daylight.”

“We can all hope, friend.”

The rest of their walk was slow and sentimental, keeping to Theia’s determined pace of exertion. When she needed a break, they would sit at a bench, or stand in front of a fountain. Soon, the midday brightness dimmed into early evening twilight, and Cassandra’s attention turned towards the expectations of dinner and socialization.

“The Antivan people are always ready to share food and drink and spur you out of your grief. They hardly rest for such trivial matters such as depression or sorrow. It is most invigorating up until you suffer a personal tragedy,” a smirk had managed to appear on Theia’s tired face as she described her experience.

“They sound like the opposite society to Nevarra. There, a party is not considered worth it unless several people cry, another brings the tokens of their dead relative to pass around the dinner table, and an hour-long toast to the departed has been recognized.”

“Perhaps I should get a summer home there, so I can stop eclipsing the jovial sun here with my sulking.”

They returned to Theia’s temporary room, which had been cleaned well in her absence. The servants had taken the opportunity to change linens, freshen the flowers, and pull the tapestries back to air out the room; clearly, her leaving the space for longer than an hour had been rare.

“I should go see Josephine. Maker knows she is already aware that I have arisen from my sickbed, and is trying to conjure up the right reaction, the right words, the right tone…” Theia sighed, playing with the pyrophite bracelet on her wrist.

“Is that such a bad thing? You do know what your temper is like, surely.”

“No, but I know once we do collide, it will be as it was when we were at Skyhold: a battle of wits, then of tempers, then of wills.”

“Ah, yes. Now, those are fond memories.”

“Some things change, others remain with their heels dug in, you could say.”

“Then I will go to dinner and then to bed. I can stay one more day, but after that I must return to the mountains. Thank you for spending this day with me, it is good to see you out and about once more.”

“Thank you, friend, for everything. I shall see you tomorrow. Perhaps we can walk by the pier, and I can show you the ships up close.” Theia smiled softly as her friend bid her goodnight, and withdrew from her room. Inhaling slow, she turned and around at the room she had been confined to for days. It was so cold, so desolate to feel it around her. She could feel the energy of her cries, her wailing, her groaning in pain, almost as if it had seeped into the walls. This would haunt her mind for a while.

Josephine stood at the foot of their bed, a chalice of wine in hand and held close to her face as she stared at the freshly made sheets. Only one side of the bed had been used for the last week, and even though she tried to sleep, she would jolt awake from the resonating anxiety at hearing her wife cry in alarm.

They had not slept apart unless separated by miles since Corypheus was slain. She had believed that sleeping alone would be impossible. Surely, even in all of her foresight, Josephine had not expected such trials to drive so deep of a wedge between them. They had always been shoulder-to-shoulder, at least, when it was not a battlefield in front of them.

It gnawed at her nerves, worrying that Theia felt so alone in her pain, that she must sequester herself.

So, when her wife stood in the entryway of their chambers, she had to do a double-take to be sure it was her. When it was confirmed, suddenly so many emotions took hold. Defensiveness, sadness, relief…and so much more that couldn’t be named, for it all bled into one another.

“Josephine.” Theia said, before walking towards her. The very sight of her walking, up on her feet, like she had been before…the color in her face now reappearing. It was enough to make her fall to her knees and start crying, if she had felt safe enough to.

“Theia, you are well, and walking?” she said, setting her wine down at the nearest end table, before meeting her halfway. As they stood in front of each other, the palpable awkwardness of being in the aftermath of so much trauma took hold.

“Uh, yes. I got up this morning, and Seeker Cassandra walked with me all day. I feel my strength is returning, which is…relieving.”

“Yes, to say the least. How are you doing besides…besides your energy?”

“Good. I wanted to…to thank you, for inviting Cassandra to be here. It has helped a lot. She…is a very wise and loyal friend.”

“I know, which is why when I thought of who to turn to, she came to mind first and foremost. Are you beginning to feel like yourself, even just slightly?”

“I…am trying my best. I…agh, Josephine, let’s stop this,” Theia took hold of one of her wife’s hands, holding it to her chest as she looked at her. “We are talking like strangers.”

“Forgive me, mi amor, if I prefer speaking like strangers after these days of you speaking to me like an enemy,” Josephine pulled away, turning around and walking further into the room. The act of turning away from her hurt her on the inside, but so did the lingering sting of her words that she yelled and growled at her.

“What do you wish me to say, Josephine? That I regret feeling the pain of losing our child? That I am sorry I could not better prepare myself for the devastation of it all?”

“Theia, we were both underprepared! You forget that this was a joint venture, we did this together, like we have done everything. You turned away from me. I had to grieve alone, away from your vitriol!” Josephine turned around to face her for this argument.

“I cannot control how this affects my body, Josephine. Every hour I feel a whole different emotion, I am not myself, and you know this,” Theia came closer, but only slightly, testing the waters of just how close she could get without Josephine retreating further into the room. This was the room, after all, where it happened, and the memory of it still consumed her senses, even as she tried so hard to remain present.

“I know that well enough! Why do you think I came to you even after all had been said and done. Every morning, every night, I’d come to see you, to be met with your shoulder and indignant words. I felt like my wife had been lost along with…” she stopped herself, still unable to speak it out loud. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, turning away as tears began to form in her eyes.

“My Love, I know how you hurt from this. I want to be here for you, I want to be that protective person you married, the person who would put her body between you and anything coming for you. But I am so…” the tears were evolving for Theia now as she choked out her last words.

“I can’t, I can’t do this, not here. Not with this…this right in front of me..” she motioned towards the bed, the bed where she had woken up to the disaster.

Josephine turned around immediately, and realizing what she was referring to, suddenly the screams began in her head again. The memory of her, screaming as if she was dying, the fear in her voice.

“Neither can I…” she breathed, and she quickly found her way to Theia’s side. Wrapping an arm around the back of her waist, she escorted her out of the room, Theia leaning on her as they walked to somewhere, anywhere, but there.

Eventually they found their study, the room where they had always sought congress with each other for the most important of matters and discussions. Some of their most heated arguments, and some of their best reconciliations. Now, as they held each other on the floor, having pulled the ghastly bearskin rug into the middle of the expansive stone floor, the quiet comforted them as they comforted each other.

“I will arrange to have the bed replaced in the morning,” Josephine muttered as she let Theia lay her head in her lap, looking outward towards the balcony. Slowly, she started playing with her blonde strands of hair, another hand resting on her shoulder. Her face was soaked with tears, making her cheeks feel slightly sticky.

“Thank you,” Theia whispered, resting her hands underneath her cheek, feeling calmer now to be close to her wife, her partner, her ally in life.

Josephine’s night dress slipped off her shoulder as they remained there, graceless and fallen apart.

“You know what is going to haunt me forever? The fact that I will never get to meet her. The fact that I will never know what she sounds like, what her voice sounds like, what her hair feels like in my fingers…”

“Theia, darling…”

“No, let me get this out. It’s been resting on my chest like a boulder, I can’t breathe anymore. I…I listened every time they warned me how much it would hurt. How much…how much childbirth would hurt. But, feeling the pain and the agony of losing…all I could think was that I would endure three times whatever pain it was to have my child in my arms, and the pain of losing my arm, all in the same moment.”

A couple of tears streamed down Josephine’s face without notice as she listened to her wife mourn out loud.

“I just want to see her. Just once. Just to see what her eyes were like, if they were purple like mine. If her hair would be dark like yours. How beautiful she would be, the product of us.”

“Between your temper and my will, she would have been a force to be reckoned with. Dorian would have his work cut out for him,” Josephine said through her tears. This made Theia swallow hard, choking back the urge to break down.

“Yes, she would have driven him crazy. There would have been so much laughter….so much…” she closed her eyes harshly, letting the tears overflow and escape her eyelids.

“Shhh, mi amor, it is alright,” Josephine cooed, stroking her hair. She heard Theia inhale sharply, congestion in her nose.

“I am so sorry, my Love. I failed you. I failed us.”

“Theia Sofia, you did no such thing,” Josephine interrupted her, a hand guiding Theia’s gaze forefully up to make eye contact with hers. “Do not even begin to tell yourself you let anyone down. This is not your failure, this is not your fault.”

“You trusted me. I was entrusted with this life, and I lost it. I failed to protect the one thing that could only ever depend on me.”

“Theia, come here,” Josephine pushed her wife’s shoulders up so she would sit up, right in front of her, so their eyes made level eye-contact. Gently, she held Theia’s face between her hands, the glimmer off fresh tears under the moonlight.

“It will take time for us to recover from this loss, and I know each day will be different for you. Some will be harder than others, and I know you will need distance as much as closeness in the coming days. But, I never want you to feel as though you must shut yourself away to atone for something you need not be punished for.”

“Josephine, I have no idea what this will do to me before it’s all over. I cannot promise you I won’t be the wounded person I was these past few days. You deserve to have your wife be there for you through this.”

“I deserve nothing more than you do. We may not have the path written out for us, but we will move forward. When has the lack of precedent ever stopped us from doing so?”

Theia put her hand to Josephine’s, the end of her tears clearing her vision.

“Do you remember our vows? How we made up our own because I refused to have a fully Andrastian ceremony,” Theia chuckled under her breath.

Josephine smiled. “Yes, and everyone cried and cried,” she pulled her wife into her chest, wrapping her arms around her.

“You Mother almost fainted when we told her we would not swear only to the Maker. I thought surely she would pin me to one of the tapestries.”

“She still hasn’t forgiven you, you know. She swears you are provoking Andraste to take back more than just your hand.”

“Maybe I am. But she can try take this away from me all she wants, this…you, you are the one part I refuse to let go.”

Josephine put her lips to the top of Theia’s head. “I am not going anywhere, mi amor.”

#oc stuff #Theia Trevelyan #Non-Chronological Chapter #Post-Tresspasser #ARC SPOILERS #Inquisitor x Josephine

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slumberlog · 6 years

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Captive

I'm driving solo on a trip to visit some family across the state, but I soon find myself lost. I drive around for awhile looking for familiar landmarks to no avail. Finally I stop and take out my phone turning on the GPS and opening the maps app. But my phone won't seem to work very well and when it does I don't recognize any of the names on the map. I'm of course unable to zoom out the map so my efforts are in vain.

My only real option is to ask for directions so I continue driving until I come across a town. I end up in a place that looks like a cross between an ancient Greek city and a modern city. Giant stone domes dot the skyline along with towers of glass. I arrive at the base of one such tower and go inside to find out where I am.

I'm brought up several floors to meet a man who will supposedly help me. At first he seems kind. He shows me around, leading me to wall-sized windows that look down on the city, a glass room with a large sunken pool, offices, and other less interesting areas.

The dreams skips forward and I find myself a captive of the man in the tower. I'm now in my early teens and my prison looks like an office. Sharing my cell is a young boy probably 9 or 10 years old. The both of us possess minor magical abilities, and frequently goad our jailers by performing magic tricks towards the cameras in our cell.

The boy and I manage to escape multiple times, but never make it far once we're out. Each time we clear the building the man in the tower calls in his goons to capture us. We can never escape them and are always brought back to our confinement.

One day the boy and I are out by the pool in the glass room. We have a view of the sky and see in the distance what looks like a missile flying towards us. I spin the boy towards the pool intending for us both to jump in and perhaps live through the impending explosion. But as we turn we see another missile lowering towards the pool. It's flying the wrong way - it's nose pointed up as it sinks towards the water. It enters the water and comes to a stop. The nose cone flips open and a smaller missile launches out of it, arcing towards the first. It must be some sort of defense system. The defensive missile head straight for the attacking one but narrowly misses.

With the missile closing in I do the only thing I can think of. I run towards the now empty tube standing in the pool and tip it over onto the ground. I tell the boy to crawl inside and quickly follow. I wait as long as I think possible then throw my weight to one side of the tube, tumbling it into the pool. As the water rushes in around us I can't help but wonder if we’ll die from the explosion or drowning.

A shock wave rips through the water, the missile has struck. We manage to scramble out of the tube and pull ourselves back out of the water. Strangely the building looks just about the same. No shattered glass, no fire, no burning crater. But I know this will have been the perfect distraction. Once again the boy and I make our escape.

Our luck doesn't change much though, as soon as we clear the building we see the hired muscle coming after us. This time though I have a brilliant idea. Instead of just running away we’ll circle around. Clever, hiding right under their noses. We head towards the back of the building and end up between it and another skyscraper, this one an apartment building.

The dreams skips forward and the boy is either captured or killed. I’ve found the boy's family living in the apartment building and I'm staying with them. I feel guilty because they have me instead of him, but also suspicious of them since they live right next door to where we were held. The apartment building is mostly filled with very poor people. Those who have more money live higher up. His family and I are about midway.

I'm now tagging along with the mom on a floor that has a market. There's no money here and she barters for everything. We end up at a table where she and the shopkeeper get into an argument. I'm getting nervous that she's drawing too much attention as their disagreement escalates. I look around nervously and spot what looks like the goons from the tower headed our way through the crowd. I try to grab the mom and get out of there...

The dream skips forward again and I've been recaptured. But this time my memories have been erased somehow and I have no knowledge of my previous captivity. I'm standing before the man in the tower and he's offering me a small tray. There's a little handgun, a device I don't recognize, and what looks like a disposable yellow poncho in a bag. The man is telling me we have an important mission to go on, and I'm a part of the team. He says something happened so I don't remember my time working there. I really don't want to go with him. I keep getting more upset the more he prods me to join. Eventually a building nearby explodes, fire engulfing its upper floors. The man points at the building and tells me this is why we have to go. He turns angrily and starts away - telling me to follow or leave. Having no memory, and not knowing where I am, I opt to follow him.

We end up meeting a group of fellow operatives under cover of darkness, across the street from a long row of squatty apartment buildings. The man from the tower tells us one of them is a meth house that needs taken down. Real me knows the man is lying, but dream me has no memory and tags along. We each take out our yellow poncho bags and open them. Turns out they’re full body radiation suits, complete with helmet and glass face plate. After putting these on we pull out our little hand guns and creep towards the buildings. I wonder how bright yellow full body radiation suits are stealthy, but hey I’m not in charge.

Our team splits up to case the building and I end up with the man from the tower. We watch the street from the side of the apartments while the others do recon. At one point a guy walks by and the man from the tower grabs me and pulls me to him. I guess he’s trying to make us look like a love struck couple out enjoying the stars? Again, the bright yellow radiation suits probably ruin this illusion… The walking man pays us no mind and passes by. Eventually the others alert us that the target is gone. We join them to investigate. Apparently the target was a large scorpion - probably the size of a small pony. I look around and find some tunnels it could fit in, but they split and go multiple directions. The man from the tower says he’ll call in a special team to map and follow them. I think our work here is done, but the man insists we must demo the building. Our team splits up again to plant explosives then meets across the street. The man pulls out a small remote and presses the red button. Charges explode and the building falls into itself in a puff of gray debris and smoke. Now we’re done.

There’s only four of us now and we turn to leave. Behind us lies the ocean, or perhaps a bay. We decide some R&R is in order and head towards the water. Our fancy radiation suits are water tight and allow us to breathe underwater too. They also must be weighted since we can walk along the bottom no problem. I wander around for a few minutes enjoying the coral scenery, then take a seat next to the team (still underwater). We rest and watch the fish swimming by. Occasionally I spot a translucent minnow floating passed, unmoving and unliving. Apparently these little corpses will sting you like jellyfish but they don’t hurt much. I’m not too concerned at first but I keep seeing more and more of them. Finally I spot a soccer ball sized glob of them floating towards us. I signal the others and we hurry to get out of the water, wondering what’s causing all the fish to die.

#dream journal #dream log #dreams

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tevotbegotnaught · 4 years

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I grew up in a factory town:paper,turbines,cement,feed,cables and caskets. Whistles blew punctually as church bells, even in the deepest night. Plants slung their keening blades past our windows and echoing off the surrounding hills. Beneath each arc, men and women lived and worked. As a boy, I played and dreamed under my own protective warp.

Scully lived with his mom, a deputy sheriff and matron in the women’s prison. She worked long hours and lots of night shifts. When I went to his place before school, she was just getting home. She’d let me in, then shout up stairs to his third floor bedroom. A woman who wore a sidearm and regularly broke up fights between violent and sociopathic prisoners couldn’t get her sixteen year-old son out of bed most mornings. When she tired of yelling, I had to go wake him up for my ride or make the thirty-minute walk alone.

In Scully’s room, mostly a bed and pair of huge dressers, the only seats were a bean bag between the heavy pieces and a windowsill. I sat on the paneled sill and talked to him. Chemically, he needed nicotine to get moving. Emotionally, he was frustrated by the way she shouted at him. His mom, newly single, now a disciplinarian, his dad suddenly the good cop. Scully’s dad actually was a cop, a detective. He solved some tough cases and brought in some real evildoers. A big guy, he beat his son for any perceived weakness.

After his all his dad’s ass whippings, Scully didn’t fear fights. He stepped up. Between us, when tension built up, he just shoved me, hard. I learned to give it right back and we usually crashed to the ground. His attic bedroom had a drop ceiling, the kind with dozens of squishy panels in an aluminum grid. During a particularly exhausting grapple, our tangled arms shot up and through the supports, spilling three or four panels.

"Bitch, look what the fuck you did! Mom’s gonna fuckin’ kill me now."

The fallen panels crumpled under our weight. Thrown clear, a legal size manila envelope. Scully carefully unfolded the metal prongs and dumped it out on the bed.

"No...fuckin’...shit!"

There were nude Polaroids of a woman.

"Dam. That’s ‘Aunt Janie’! Dad always told me to call her aunt."

Under a paperclip, a sheaf of black-and-white 8x10s, his dad and a buxom woman walking on the street or dining out, all taken from oblique angles, surveillance-style.

We examined the Polaroids closely.

"That’s fuckin’ crazy. No wonder. Mom busted his ass, and good!"

Scully seemed impressed, by his father’s voyeurism and taste in women and his mother’s vituperation.

By the time I met Scully, his dad had moved out and was dating a much younger lady from the south end of town. They got a place together in a big development newly built on prime south-county farmland. Scully and his sister saw their dad weekends. He reported back about his new family and the suburban kids. It was different there-the same teen ennui and angst, but indulged with lots more money and unchecked by close-knit family or neighbors. I knew guys from that end of town, but my new neighborhood was revealing its own fascinating topography.

We usually bought weed from Mike down the street. Scully had the connection. I was third wheel. Eventually, I had to go myself. Mike lived with his grandmother in the top two floors of a big house. His bedroom, a teenage boy’s dream: top floor, skylight, tons of posters, black light, an electric guitar, and bitchin’ stereo system with tower speakers.

You entered from the alley, through their back yard and up a metal outer staircase to a landing. Just inside, a kitchen. His grandmother was usually cooking or watching TV. She was a Noman Rockwell, white folks’ gramma: hair bun, glasses on a chain, apron over full skirts. She also knew exactly what Mikey was selling to nervous teenagers lifting her snowman door knocker.

"Yesssss" she said, standing in the enveloping smell of hot skillets, grease and cabbage.

"Mike ‘ere?" I mumbled. Mike’s door behind, she breathed sharply through her nose and bared her teeth.

" Mike! Mikey!" Her voice harsh and directed into me. Jaw levering like a nutcracker on each word "Your...friend...is....here."

She blocked me. "What’s your name?"

"Chris"

"What?"

"Chris"

"You live around here?"

"Yes. I do..I"

Mike’s buddy Chauncey opened the 4th floor door and leaned out.

Gramma stepped back, turning, walking toward the stove. Back to us, she shouted into the bubbling pots "JUST GET YOUR REEFER, THEN. GO AHEAD."

and mocked my solicitude, "IS MIKE HEEEEERE?"

"MIKE AND ALL HIS FRIENDS. DAM YOU."

Chauncey blinked and nodded. I ran up the stairs behind him, closing the door. Downstairs, gramma loosed a winding, wordless scream.

"Don’t listen to her. She’s fucking crazy."

"Yeah. But, jeeez man..."

Upstairs, Mike lay under bed covers. He swiveled his head toward me, eyes sunken and rhuemy.

"Hey. Hey, man. You’re Scully’s friend. Yeah. Cool." He turned away, sighing. Chauncey looked in my eyes. "Lotta people been coming by who don’t even know Mike. It’s fucked, you know." Chauncey was a precocious 70’s teenager-openly gay, wise far beyond our geography and spoke hushed, confessionally.

"They want all different kind of shit. Mike doesn’t like it. He’s been shooting speed."

My face must have showed surprise at that non-sequitur

"I shoot him up." He said in tenderest voice.

"It’s easier and he trusts me. He just likes the airplanes, you know, when you shoot it."

Mike moaned. Bathed in the skylight, we were a Rembrandt. I just wanted to buy a bag and split.

"Chaunce, ask him what he wants." Mike shivered and the bed rattled.

Chauncey made the deal. "It’s fuckin’ killer. I took a couple hits like two hours ago. I’m still fuckin’ wasted." In gentler days, Scully and I would have hung out and partied with them. Scully calling Chauncey a "fucking faggot" and Chauncey spitting back "pizza face". We handed off and I prepared to cross the Scylla and Charbodis. Mike didn’t say goodbye.

I pushed the door until it juddered open. Gramma sat in the adjoining room, crocheted blanket over her legs, TV blaring. I thumb-wrestled with the deadbolt and let myself out, stepping fast down the stairs.

When I told Scully about it, he calculated. "She’s a fuckin’ trip. Mike’s fuckin’ stupid, too. Firing that shit? Better not fuckin’ get us busted". There were two or three police families on each block. After a year in the neighborhood, I was learning that. We needed purchases simple and low-key. Scully had law enforcement on his literal doorstep.

His step-mom had a couple sisters around our age. In a bizarre one-off, he ended up hooking up with one of them; incest minus the c’est. Through her, he found a new connect, Russ. No geriatric kneecappers or teen vampires with Russ. I can’t remember the first bag we got from him. In those days greenish Mexican was it for regular guys. Despite his "higher than median income" school district, Russ enthusiastically promoted that product as "oh-ox-ican". I looked that name up in my Funk and Wagnalls. It was oh-kay.

We got the second bag a week after Halloween. He called it "gold". It definitely looked different. Examined under the car’s dome light, the crushed leaves looked metallic bronze, possibly from an aerosol can. We went up to Scully’s room to twist one up. It was a school night and his mom was at work. Maybe "Houses of the Holy" was playing. That was always my choice at his place. Right away, the smell was funny: an overheated voltage transformer or plastic cutlery melting in a charcoal grill. We took a few hits and put it out.

The house lights went down.

First, the overture:

"tastes fuckin’ weird"

"Like plastic, right?"

"Not smoking that shit anymore"

"Fuck, no"

The show began:

I became an amoeba, gushy on the inside, cilia paddling madly outside. Sinking into the bed, through its frame and down, down. When I opened my eyes, Scully was unwrapping Hershey’s miniatures, flicking them in his mouth, digging for more. With both hands, he offered the candy bag.

"ere..."

My insides jiggled as I waved him off.

Shadows frayed and dissolved. The record played again. Dali’s clocks oozed.

Scully lifted something to his chest, mouth flared. Black lava poured out, disappearing below. Intermittent splattering. Gutteral sounds. Lips opening and closing, an aquarium fish feeding.

I bounced off the bed, high-tide stomach and pincushion eyes.

"You’re sick. Get you cleaned up."

Lava bearded Scully’s chin. Lips gobbing, he handed me the heavy, sloshing trash can. Laughter. I put it on the sill. Down steep steps. At bottom, a hairpin turn. Scully tumbles. I pick him up. Armpits and chest. Funhouse mirror walk. The bathroom. Damp air. Washcloths under the faucet. He pulls his shirt up from the waist, trapping both arms inside. I yank it off violently.

Somewhere below, a door slams. A woman’s voice:

"I’m home. Where are ya?"

Scully looks at me, eyes spilling glue.

"Mom’s home" His voice drops two octaves between words.

She calls out again.

He unfolds an index finger.

"Shhhhh"

The voice gets closer.

I lurch toward the doorway, his mom appears before I can get out.

"Scully’s sick" I say in my serious voice.

She looks at my face,

"You’re wasted"

and pushes past me.

Then she sees her son.

"HO-LEE HELL, WHAT DID YUZ DO?"

"Nothin`, mom" he says cheerfully.

I look away. She grunts, struggling to sit him down on the toilet. He speaks to her in singsong. Her windbreaker rustles. She’s alongside me. Turning my torso with her hands, pushing me down and pinning me to the paneled wall. I smell sweat, perfume and stale smoke. She’s barely five feet tall, but her mouth is level with mine.

"WHAT DID YUZ DO? WHAT’D YUZ TAKE?"

"We drank whiskey. A bottle."

"WHISKEY DOESN’T DO THAT. YUZ TOOK SOMETHING"

"No, we didn’t take..."

"YUZ TOOK SOMETHING. WHAT’D YUZ TAKE"

Her forearm grinds into my sternum. I squirm, then exhale. My body deflates and begins to slide down. She pulls me up.

"YOU KNOW YOU COULD DIE? YUZ BOTH COULD DIE. BOTH OF YUZ."

My lips open, cool air rushes inside-inverted speech.

"GO HOME. I OUGHTA TELL YOUR PARENTS. GOD…DAM…STUPID….KIDS"

She lifts her forearm off my chest and returns to bathroom. I’m very warm. My face, in particular. The steps to the first floor tilt into utter darkness. I guide myself down, palms out, shoulder height.

Outside, cold wind knifes through a deep cleft in my skull. My walk home, one block of paved alley. Each footfall jars my spine, reverberating through my aqueous body and into my gaping head. Step by step, tottering toward our back gate. From the yard, beyond a blinding porch light, I see my mother moving in the kitchen. When I open the door, my body worms away from her.

“Hi, honey. How are you?”

“I’m tired. Gonna go to bed.”

“Your voice sounds funny. You getting a cold? Come here. Let me check you for fever.”

My throat grips and I stride through the doorway.

“I’m just tired, mom. Gonna sleep. I need it"

“Ok, honey. Sleep tight.”

When I reach my room, nauseous and staggering, I fall on the bed. The ceiling light whirls while my body liquefies. As I float, wind howls, and the city calls its third shift to work.

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