#anyways i ran out fo tag ideas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

me-myself-and-my-fos · 2 years

Text

Battle at the Nest

Pairing: Pre!Snotlout Jorgenson x Nic Blake

A/N: First fic for Snotlout but also this fandom in general. Please be nice, I worked really hard on this! I changed some events just because of the canon of my s/i

Tag List: @sable-myers @fangedwife @hyperionshipping @the-dark-fae-and-her-fos

She should’ve been used to the cold by now having lived on Berk for so long, but the cold wind hitting her face made her feel numb. At least Cece was enjoying herself— the Changewing was very happy to feel the icy breeze on her scales. A shiver rolled through Nic’s body as they continued their journey to Drago Bludvist’s base, and she bit her lip, wondering if she should say anything. She had several reservations about this plan, and while none of the group really questioned Astrid about this decision, Nic was silently doing that. She pressed forward on the handles of the saddle, ushering Cece to push forward. When they eventually caught up to Astrid and Stormfly, Nic released. She sat up, letting her dragon continue on the path following along.

“Uh, Astrid?” Nic asked over the loudness of the arctic winds. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Stoick told us to go back to Berk.”

A scoff escaped the blonde as she looked over at Nic. “You’re one to talk. You and Hiccup don’t listen to Stoick all the time.”

“Yeah, but that’s only when I know we’ll have backup from you guys. Who’s our backup?” Nic questioned.

The group of dragon riders watched in silence as the pair bickered. It was an odd sight. Normally Nic and Astrid got along, both going along with whatever crazy plan Hiccup has. They typically didn’t question the other’s judgement. To see Nic so outspoken about her disapproval was a shift.

Astrid opened her mouth to reply, but Nic cut her off. “And don’t say Hiccup and Stoick and Gobber. Because they have no idea where we’re going or where Drago’s base is. We’re flying blind, Astrid. I think we should go back.”

“We have stop Drago at all costs. Hiccup’s probably on his way there if they haven’t already been captured,” Astrid told her assuringly.

Nic sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to win the argument. They were already too far gone anyway. “I hope you’re right, because Odin help us and our dragons if you aren’t.”

They were in an icy cavern, somehow it was colder than outside. Nic shivered and wrapped her cloaked tighter on her as they quietly landed. The riders began to climb off their dragons that nestled into the snow and ice. Hopping off Cece, Nic ran her hand over the dragon’s leaf-like antennas.

“Cloak, girl,” she whispered quietly.

Cece huffed through her nose in acknowledgment, the heat of her fishy breath warming Nic’s face for a moment. Before her eyes the dragon’s skin shimmered until she was no longer visible. Even the saddle wasn’t able to be seen, made from the same scales that were once on Cece’s body several years ago. Hiccup was excited when Nic pitched the idea of making a saddle out of Cece’s scales, knowing that they too could cloak despite being detached from the dragon. It came in handy for these such moments.

Smiling, Nic drew her short sword from her waist and followed the others as they climbed the snow bank. They all poked their heads over the top, trying not to be spotted but still getting a good look. Her gut twisted as she saw the armada of ships all surrounding a bubbling hole in the water.

“What’s down there?” Astrid asked quietly.

Fishlegs quickly opened a pouch on his belt and pulled out his cards. “Large diameter bubbles, massive lungs, cold water deep dweller; I’m thinking class five leviathan, maybe six.”

“Whatever it is, it’s huge,” Nic mumbled.

Behind them there was a grunt from one of the dragons. As they looked back, several dragon trappers appeared, blow darts and weapons in their hands. They quickly shot darts at the dragons, Stormfly taking off before she could get shot.

“Seasons, go!” Nic called out. Despite Cece’s cloaking, Nic was still able to see the outline of her dragon as she took off after Stormfly. It didn’t seem like any of the catchers noticed. Nic had trained her eyes to be able to spot camouflaged Changewings.

The group hurried down the snow hill, calling out to their dragons in worry. But it was too late, all unresponsive as they slept. The trappers closed in on the group and Eret, Nic and Astrid both having their weapons drawn despite the spears pointed at them. Fishlegs dropped his cards and lifted his arms up in surrender.

“We can take them,” Nic mumbled to Astrid.

“And risk the dragons?” Astrid looked at her. “Drop your weapons.”

“I can’t believe we’re surrendering,” Nic grumbled, throwing her sword to the ground.

The trappers took their weapons and tied their hands behind their backs. They were walked onto one of the dozens of ships, and they were brought before Drago Bludvist. He was just as intimidating as the name suggested. The dragons captured were dragged along by armored dragons, and the group was roughly pushed along.

Eret attempted to banter with Drago, but the mammoth of a man was having none of it. He didn’t seem to pay Eret any mind, especially as Hookfang began to wake up. The trappers struggled to control him. But Drago quickly proved why he considered himself the greatest dragon master, subduing Hookfang into submission.

And now they were about to walk off the side of the ship into freezing cold water and drown. All because Astrid tried to intimidate Drago into letting them go. And Stormfly and Cece got captured trying to protect them all.

Astrid glared at Eret as he faced them all, inches from the edge. “You’re a heaping pile of dragon–”

“Duck,” he told her. As she ducked he kicked two of the guards in the head, managing to grab one of their spears to free his wrists and beat the another. A fourth guard began to run, but Eret quickly shot a blow dart at him. It hit the guard in the arm and he fell onto the deck before he could alert anyone.

“Okay, I love you again,” Ruffnut grinned, staring at Eret.

Snotlout watched in disappointment, and Tuffnut shook his head. “Pathetic,” he said to Snotlout. “You can still jump.”

Nic rolled her eyes as Astrid and Eret began to cut the ropes on their wrists. “You’re both idiots.”

“Start checking traps,” Eret told them. “Your dragons are here somewhere.”

Now that she was no longer gripped with worry at the thought that they were all about to be drowned, Nic grew very fear. Fear for Cece. They all headed for cages and Nic paused in front of one. This had to be it.

Her muscles burned as she grit her teeth, trying to open the massive domed trap. Cece was in that one, she knew it. But the crank was too heavy, and she was far from the strongest viking. Yet another reason she preferred a bow and arrows over heavy weaponry. But now she cursed herself for being so weak, unable to get to Cece to help.

“Are you sure she’s in this one?” Snotlout asked, watching her failed attempt.

“Yes. I can feel it.” Nic grunted, barely able to the lever an inch. She was growing more and more frustrated.

It killed her to think about it something had happened to Cece. Tears formed in her eyes as she thought about the possibility of her dragon being hurt. Nic didn’t know what she would do without Cece.

He noticed her struggling, and walked over to pull her away from the machine. “Let me do this.”

“No, she’s my dragon.”

Nic was stubborn, he’d give her that. But it was obvious it would take her a while to get it open. He took hold of the lever and started to crank despite Nic’s protests. When the trap opened slightly, big enough of a gap for her to get through, Nic took no time at all to climb up the side. She pulled herself up the side and jumped through the jaws of the trap.

Landing inside, with the light provided from the gap, she gasped softly at the sight of Cece wrapped up in ropes, her jaw muzzled shut. The Changewing let out a whine at the sight of her rider, and Nic quickly did her best to untie the ropes. Cece nudged her side gently and Nic shushed her.

“Quiet, girl. We have a plan.” She undid the metal muzzle and Cece chittered happily, nuzzling against Nic. She smiled softly at her dragon, hugging her snout. “I missed you too. I was so worried.” Cece shivered slightly, her body shaking, and she became camouflaged against the wood of the trap. “That’s a good idea. But we need to stay quiet. We’ll be here for a while.”

Nic stood and walked to the side of Cece, feeling for the invisible saddle. Once she felt it, she pulled herself up to mount on top of Cece’s back.

She wasn’t sure how long they were in the trap. It had to have been an hour, maybe two. It felt like an eternity, all she could do was keep Cece calm while trying to do the same for herself. They could die. They could both die.

The trap was being moved. She could hear muffled sounds outside, but Nic wasn’t sure what was going on. And then the trap started to open, cloudy sunlight poured into the dark space. She rubbed at Cece’s neck softly.

“Get ready, girl.”

An explosion went off followed by cheering, and Nic knew the twins had revealed themselves.

“Come on!”

Cece roared before taking off, and the pair shot out of the trap. The others followed, Eret was on Stormfly while Astrid rode on Meatlug along with Fishlegs. The sandy beach of the ice fortress was covered in trappers and catapults and other weapons to take down dragons. Cece was vulnerable, unable to cloak in the sky with all the action going on and Nic on her back. But she was more than able to make up for it.

“Take down the catapults!” Nic told her.

Cece flew overhead of the catapults before they could go off, spitting out the familiar green Changewing acid. The catapults that were hit were destroyed, but there were still many other weapons, along with Drago’s armored dragons.

“Come on, Cece. We can do this.”

Cece let out a roar of agreement as they flew past more catapults, destroying them with acid as well.

It all seemed like it was going in their favor.

Something hit the side of Cece, and she screeched in pain as she was thrown sideways. The jerking motion was so sudden, so strong, it threw Nic off her back. A screamed escaped her as she clawed at the air, the distance between her and Cece growing as Nic plummeted towards the ground. She called out for her dragon, but Cece’s movement were slower as she began to right herself.

She wasn’t going to make it.

There was a flash of movement and something grabbed hold of Nic. Or someone. She looked up to see Snotlout grinning smugly at her as he held her wrist.

“You owe me. Again,” he told her. He lifted her up, and Nic pulled herself onto the back of Hookfang.

“Thanks,” she rolled her eyes playfully at him.

“You know, one of these days I’m going to cash in all these favors you owe me.”

“What do you want? A statue in your honor?” Nic asked sarcastically as Hookfang circled back to meet up with Cece. It was difficult given they were being shot at.

“Well since you offered…” Snotlout smiled back at her.

Nic rolled her eyes again. “In your dreams, Jorgenson.” Cece flew up just below Hookfang, giving Nic an opportunity to jump. “Thanks for the assist,” she told Snotlout, quickly kissing his cheek before jumping onto Cece’s back. “You okay, girl?” She asked.

Cece huffed through her nose, nodding at the question.

“Good. Now let’s go kick ass.”

A war cry like roar emitted from the dragon as they flew off.

Snotlout sat on Hookfang, frozen in surprise. Slowly his hand reached up to touch the spot on his cheek she had kissed. Hookfang veered to the side suddenly before flying forward quickly. He grunted back at his rider who frowned.

“Hey, let me savor this, okay?”

#I wanted to get this done today because I’m sick. and when I’m sick I can’t write at all. I lose the ability to concentrate.#mywriting #my viking #otp: stubborn vikings

12 notes · View notes

ofnifflersandkings · 4 years

Text

Bumping into Strangers

Character: Benny Watts A/n: Finally finished a benny request even if it took me 10 years and a contract with the devil.

You tapped your foot against the pristine marble floor of the hotel lobby, adjusting the arsenal of camera equiptment you had shoved under your arms to prepare for the chess match later today. You were placed in charged of gathering photos for the new Chess Review edition, the first real professional project of your career. To say you were nervous was the understatement of the year.

You shuffled through your camera bag, strategizing the kinds of lenses you might have to use throughout the day. The lighting in the hotel was pretty dim, the thick brown curtains lazily swaying over most of the windows did little to help bring in any natural light. Luckily, you noticed a rather large chandelier hanging over the area where most of the chess boards were situated. It sort of reminded you of an old smoking room in a gentleman’s club, but given the sort of people surrounding you, it wasn’t that far off.

You tilted your head, taking a few paces forward as you tried to scope out the area better. Usually, you’d have gotten this out of the way earlier in the morning. But Benny insisted upon introducing you to more of his chess associates and promised you could kick him in the ass for it later, proclaiming your irrefutable talent would be more than enough to get you through the day.

Still walking forward, you didn’t even notice someone heading right towards you until the both of you collided. The sudden weight sent you stumbling backwards, and you probably would’ve fallen right on your back had the stranger not reached out for you.

His hands held firmly onto your shoulders, helping you regain your balance before you could fall.

“Are you alright?” The stranger said in a slightly alarmed tone, his brows shot upwards and his eyes wide.

It took you a moment to process what exactly happened, and you blinked before your brain caught up to speed.

“Yes! Gosh, I’m so sorry,” You fumbled, feeling the heat crawl up your neck when you realized how you were at the fault. “I wasn’t paying attention at all.”

The man smiled, the curls on his forehead shaking whenever his laugh and doing little to help your embarrassment. He looked down at your camera and his eyes lit up. “Is that a Pentax?”

Your eyebrows knit together, not knowing how he knew what camera you used, but you followed his gaze and realized you were wearing it around your neck.

“Oh! Yeah it’s-“

“Everything alright here?”

You whipped your head over at the sound of the familiar voice, smiling when you saw Benny standing just a ways off from the two fo you.

He had one of his hands hanging loosely by his belt loop as his eyes darted between you and the other man. His brows furrowed into a deep frown, his gaze shifting to the man’s hands, which you now realized were still holding onto your shoulders.

You and him must’ve realized the same thing because he immediately released his hold on you and you both awkwardly laughed as you took a step back.

“Yes! We’re okay, I just wasn’t paying attention so I ran right into…,” You faltered, remembering you never got his name.

He must’ve sensed your distress because he picked it up for you. “Jaime,” he said, looking back at you for a moment with a smile. “It was both of our faults really.”

Benny crossed his arms, looking at you to find any warning in them. But when he couldn’t find any his spirits didn’t seem to lift any.

“Well, it’s a pretty small space. I’d imagine it’s easy to run into each other,” He gave a pointed look to Jaime, a stiff smile taking over his face. “We’ll just have to keep out a better watch won’t we?”

Benny turned back to you, a more pleasant look coming over him now. “I just wanted to let you know the matches are starting soon.”

You adjusted the strap of your camera bag and turned to Jaime. “I’ll see you later then?”

His ears seemed to perk up at the idea. “Sure! I’ll see you.”

You walked over to Benny, who immediately placed his arm over your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you the best spot in the house,” He looked back at Jaime once more before leading you further away from him.

Benny looked passed his opponent, trying to find you in the growing crowd as he waited to make his next move. He leaned back in his chair, arms folding over each other and his lip twitching upward when he noticed you snapping photos of another match.

It was short lived though when he also noticed that Jaime guy hanging out not too close to you. He recalled seeing him at a few other tournaments and figured he was a friend of one of the other chess guys. But now it felt like every time he looked up he had inched closer to where you were standing.

Benny was so caught up trying to keep up with the two of you he almost missed it when his opponent finally moved.

He had the poor guy in check three moves later.

Benny sat in one of the armchairs in the lobby, the post tournament chatter buzzing around over his eyes and falling in and out of ears. He was in an oddly somber mood despite winning the whole thing, he usually energy for bravado now a bit depleted.

He shook hands with his final opponent and turned around, fully expecting you to be waiting to congratulated like you always did. But you were nowhere in sight.

His one heel tapped against the floor, not wanting to leave until he knew where you were. He placed his chin in hand, exhaling dramatically when he thought you might be with Jaime.

You and him always got together after his matches so he could talk your ear off about strategy and you’d tell him about the kinds of photos you’d gotten or how difficult it was to “get the right lighting”.

He smiled when thinking at your silly antics and when he remembered you weren’t here with now it put him back in a bad mood.

His eyes were trained on the floor and when he saw you walking up to him he immediately sat up straighter in his chair.

“Well there you are,” He chided, trying to cover his former disappointment. “I thought you might’ve run out on me.”

You laughed, “Like I’d ever hear the end of it if I even thought about it.”

Benny watched you put your camera away and fasten the straps on your bag and tried not to seem too eager about wanting to leave. “So, are we off? I can drive ya.”

You shook your head, “I’m actually gonna stick around a little longer. The fellow from earlier? We got to talking about some camera stuff during the downtime between matches and offered to grab drinks to talk about it more later.”

You suddenly caught yourself and you looked at him with a sheepish smile. “That’s alright isn’t it? I know we usually do something together when your matches are over.”

Benny scoffed, knowing he really had no right to tell you to leave with him, even if he wanted to. “Course it is, I’m sure he’ll make better conversation on the subject than I can.” He said with a smile.

You grinned, ruffling his hair with your hand. “Congratulations though, I heard you were especially tough to beat today. Even I was impressed.”

Benny leaned back, his smile turning a little more genuine when he heard your praise, his wounded ego healing itself already. “What can I say? I was feeling motivated today.”

You laughed, placing your hands into your pockets. “Well, I shouldn’t keep him waiting, don’t wanna be out too late.”

Benny turned his head and saw Jaime shifting his weight between his legs over by the lobby door. His eyes kept flittering over to the two of you talking.

Benny smirked before looking back up at you.

“Hey wait, you have something,” He pointed to the top of his head and you ran your fingers through your hair hoping to get it. Instead, he shook his head and laughed. “Nope, still there.”

You were about to ask him what the hell he was talking about. Instead, you felt him tug on your camera strap, the pressure making you lean forward so you more on his level where he was sitting.

Your noses almost bumped into each other, but you pulled back to prevent it. Benny lifted his hand up again, taking whatever was in your in your hair and flicking it away before you got a good look at it. Then, he lightly tucked the hair at the front of your head behind your ear.

“That’s better.” He commented, still using his free hand to hold onto your camera strap so you couldn’t get too far away from him.

Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, and you laughed at the sudden realization of how close you two were. “You’re being strange…stranger than usual anyways.”

Benny chuckled, releasing his old on you but not without making direct eye contact with your new friend before he did. He sent a wink his way and had to hold back a laugh when he saw Jaime’s shoulders tense.

“I’ll see you later?” He asked, watching you grab your bag. “Tell your friend I said hello.”

Tag List:

@carpevflos

#wanted to title this drama king but I held back benny's pettiness in this one #im still kinda writing you and benny in your pre relationship phase #so this is benny at his most controlled #but if y'all were in an established relationship??#he'd be such a little shit #maybe later 👀#still love this man #wish I had the stamina to write like I used to #but im trying #hope anon likes this #the queens gambit #benny watts imagine #benny watts imagines #the queens gambit imagines #the queens gambit imagine #benny watts x reader #queens gambit imagines #queens gambit imagine

374 notes · View notes

interstellarflare · 4 years

Text

Bend and Break || Homelander

-PART TWO-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst.

Summary: People can only bend their morales so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

Author’s Note: As a bit of a disclaimer, I have only seen snippets of The Boys. I haven’t actually watched all of it, so forgive me if there are some details that are wrong, as well as the many spelling errors that will undoubtedly be in this series. There is a tag list open for those who wish to be added. Gif by @voughtgifs

|PART ONE|

Homelander was keeping you on edge. It had been a week since his abrupt appearance at your apartment, and you knew that the fucker was watching you every hour of every day. And you knew that he was contemplating the best way to scare the shit out of you. It was only a matter of time.

The bruise on your forearm remained. It had turned a darkish purple, almost black, which you assumed wasn’t a good sign. But you didn’t care. It still hurt like hell, and it annoyed you to have to wear long sleeve shirts everywhere, but what could you do other than hang out at your apartment wondering when the bastard would show up?

Well, get drunk of course.

Pissed beyond comprehension at a nightclub downtown, you were happy to be somewhere else for the night, escaping the fucked up reality that you now lived in. Downing another shot of vodka, you cringed at the now disgusting taste. The room was swaying, the music was too loud, and the sound of people cheering and laughing happily irked you to no end. But you loved it. It was something different, and you were too drunk to care. “Another round~” You slurred, slamming the small glass onto the bar top with a slight hiccup. The bartender winced, approaching you with a calm expression. “I’m sorry Ma’am, but we can’t serve you anymore, you’ve had too much to drink” he explained, shouting to be heard over the loud music. As you opened your mouth to respond, the crowd behind you began to cheer ecstatically. You sluggishly turned to see what all the commotion was about, feeling your buzz suddenly disappear, slamming you back into a state of mild sobriety as the crowd chanted a chorus of ‘Homelander! Homelander! Homelander!’.

You turned to face the bartender, leaning against the bar top as you slurred “Please, please just one more. I won’t tell anyone”. Hesitantly, the bartender obliged. He handed you one last shot glass, and cringed as you downed the vodka greedily. Just you placed the glass down before you, a shadow loomed over you to your right, the stupid blue suit and American flag cape obscuring your view. “Out of all the places I could find you, I find you here” Homelander shouted, leaning on his elbow against the bar with a taunting smirk. “Fuck off, I was having fun” You snapped in return, feeling a surge of happiness swell inside your chest as Homelander’s expression contorted into one of pure bewilderment. This was only your second meeting, and you had a horrifying feeling that drunk you would likely get you killed. But that small sober part of you was glad that drunk you would say what sober you couldn’t.

Homelander’s eyes narrowed, watching on in annoyance as you abruptly stood up from your seat from the bar. Tipping the bartender for his amazing service, you left the superhero behind and disappeared into the crowd, silently hoping that you would lose him as you left the nightclub. As you stepped outside into the cool night air, you sighed heavily in a mixture of frustration and content. A few moments of silence was all you could savour, as the door to the nightclub opened once more for Homelander to step out onto the street. You could hear his footsteps close behind you as you did your best to put some distance between the two fo you, though it didn’t help that you stumbled occasionally on raised parts of the pavement. “I have to ask, what are you doing here?” Homelander questioned, suddenly appearing in front of you and standing tall with his hands braced on his hips. You groaned, pushing past him as you could see your car down the street “When one has their life threatened by a supposedly beloved superhero, and their life has completely gone to shit, then I think I have a right to have a few moments of self loathing don’t you think?” you retorted, ignoring his scoff as you managed to fish your car keys out of the pocket of your jacket.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Homelander questioned, his tone of voice suddenly changing from cocky and sarcastic to concerned. You rolled your eyes, spinning clumsily to face him whilst throwing your arms out in exasperation “I’m going home, do you have any objections?”. Homelander’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flickering between you, your car, and the keys in your hands. As he stepped towards you, you stepped back, challenging him with a lopsided smirk. You could tell he was growing frustrated with your behaviour, and you enjoyed pissing him off so much. “You’re too drunk to drive-” “My buzz died when you entered the nightclub, so I think I’m sober enough to drive home....” you interrupted, bracing your hands on your hips and mocking his so-called heroic stance “and if I happen to die whilst driving home, it’s not your problem right?”.

Homelander’s expression changed into a deadly glare, his eyes glowing a faint red in anger. He stepped towards you, so close now that you stumbled back against the side of your car with a small yelp. His jaw clenched as he spoke “It is my problem, because you are the only chance I have to find Butcher. If you die, I have to start all over again, and I’d rather not to that”. “Oh, that’s such an inconvenience...” You responded sarcastically, lightly pushing the bastard away from you and turning back to face your car “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m done talking to you and I just want to go home”. Before you could even manage to unlock you vehicle, the keys were snatched from your hand, and you were suddenly lifted up into the supposed hero’s arms. You screamed, thrashing around in his grip. “Put me down you fucking arsehole!” You cried, hitting your hands against his chest whilst completely oblivious to your surroundings.

Homelander stared down at you with a cocky grin, tilting his head to the side with a small shrug of his shoulders before responding “Very well, if you insist”. And then suddenly, you were falling. You barely had enough time to scream, as Homelander’s form in the sky grew smaller and smaller. The wind blew your hair in all directions, and all you could do was gasp as the ground rushed up to meet you. You closed your eyes, bracing for the painful impact before you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your form. You shrieked, opening your eyes to loud and obnoxious laughter as your found yourself in Homelander’s arms again. Hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held yourself closer to him, out of fear that he would drop you again. You buried your head into his chest, not wanting to watch the world fly by as Homelander flew to your apartment. If you weren’t sober before, you definitely were now. Your heart thundered in your chest, and as Homelander gently set you down on the rooftop of your apartment complex, you leapt from his arms and collapsed to your knees. Your stomach churned angrily, the sick feeling growing more intense, and the alcohol didn’t help.

You could feel Homelander’s stare boring into your skull as you grovelled on the ground, as you tried to stop the world from spinning. Eventually, you managed to stand to you feet, bracing your hands on your knees as you swallowed thickly. You could feel the hero’s presence behind you, “There, that wasn’t so hard was-”

Crack!

Homelander stumbled backward as your clenched fist connected with his jaw. His mouth fell agape in shock, his eyes wide in stupor. As his gaze met yours, you stepped forward and pointed an accusing finger at his chest. Your eyes narrowed, practically seething with rage as you growled “Don’t you ever fucking do that again, ever”. Time suddenly slowed down as you realised what had just happened. You had punched him. You had punched Homelander, The World’s Greatest Superhero. “Oh fuck...” you mumbled, ignoring the throbbing pain coursing through your hand. You stood in horrified silence, as the man before you rubbed his jaw in surprise whilst an amused chuckle. If he said anything, you didn’t hear it, as you fled inside the complex and down to your apartment. Once you got inside, you locked the door, not that it would help much, and made a beeline for the small kitchen. You found a bottle of bourbon, half of its contents already gone, but you drank from it anyway. The amber liquid left a pleasant burning sensation at the back of your throat, but your true aim was to get your buzz back. It was better to be numb to everything if Homelander followed you downstairs.

Whilst punching him in the face seemed like a good idea and an impressive feat, you were certainly regretting it. You downed the rest of the alcohol that remained and turned back to face your living room, a shocked scream leaving your lips. Homelander stood in the centre of the room, his arms folded across his chest as his expression formed a dangerous scowl. “How the fuck did you get in here!?” You exclaimed loudly, your eyes narrowing harshly whilst your grip tightened around the neck of the empty bourbon bottle. The bastard’s expression didn’t change as he responded “Your window is unlocked, you should probably fix that-” “Who the fuck is going to climb down the fire escape to the fifth floor to kill me!? You can fly, so you cheated”. The room fell into a heavy silence as you ran a stressed hand through your hair, your (eye/colour) eyes never leaving his own blue hues. You took a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart as the blue-clad tyrant approached, but it did you no good.

“Look, I’m sorry I punched you. Actually, no I’m not, you deserved it. But if you’ve decided to kill me now then go ahead and do it. But I’m letting you know that I have done everything you’ve asked. No one knows that you’re here, I haven’t told anyone that you’re practically using me as a hostage. The Boys don’t know anything about your random unscheduled visits, so do whatever you want-”

You froze mid-sentence as Homelander’s eyes began to glow, the red hue increasing in brightness. For a brief second, you thought that this was it. That The World’s Greatest Superhero was going to lazer you into oblivion. You tried not flinch as his gaze moved away from you at the last second, instead directed towards the kitchen island bench. You watched on in dread as your phone completely melted into nothing, the intense heat of his heat vision obliterating the metal mass into nothing. As Homelander approached, you didn’t meet his gaze. You could tell that the fucker was revelling in your fear, as he stood only inches away from you. “Next time, that will be you. Maybe you’ll think twice about punching The World’s Greatest Superhero, hm?” he taunted, before disappearing from your view. When you looked up, he was gone. The window to the fire escape was open, the only sign that Homelander had been here aside from the smouldering hole in your island bench.

You sighed heavily, blinking away the tears in your eyes as you trudged into you bedroom. All you wanted to do now was sleep, and forget about everything that had happened. There would be one hell of a hangover in the morning, but you hoped that it would give you something else to worry about than a mad superhero tyrant.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #the boys x reader #the boys #the boys imagine #antony starr

540 notes · View notes

lucarioisinthevoid · 4 years

Note

AHHHHHHH I HAVE IDEA!!

How about Henry interacting with Helpy and the “annoying” Ultimate Custom Night characters! Maybe throw in Funtime Freddy!! Helpy could be his son or maybe Bon Bon reincarnated! Just sheer silliness and stupidity :p

Animatronics: Bonnie, BB, JJ, Phantom BB, Phantom Mangle, Phantom Freddy, Old Man Consequences, Trash and the Gang, Helpy, El Chip, Funtime Chica and Phone Guy! (Sorry, no Funtime Freddy here, wasn’t an option- though I don’t mind adding characters that aren’t an option, I would just had to write around that a little more, so I didn’t want to go all in. Events and surroundings all randomly generated like this in-game! Just with slight adjustments for a bit of writing flow). (Special note: This is an experiment. This is a whole ass chapter. Tumblr might not be the right place for it, but I have no better place to put it. If you have an idea on what would work better, I’d love to hear it, but for now this is just it. If you don’t want to read a long chapter, you should probably not press “read more” Honestly, this might not be as much fun as I imagined it to be, I’m terrible at making fun events, heh. If it is, take solace in the fact that it might be the only chapter of this kind on this blog.)

Henry groaned, his bones sending agony through his nerves. It felt like his insides had splintered and were now stuck in his flesh. His throat was burning, but he managed to open his eyes. He was- somewhere. At least it was a place. That was actually news, good news, last time he hadn’t been that lucky after all. Having a couch below him and a room surrounding him was actually a deep relief- it was a room he didn’t have to create himself. Sitting up, he looked around. It seemed to be some sort of employee lounge, a coffee machine, a tv and a couch, with lockers against the walls. A few posters painted the walls. -CELEBRATE!- They said, over and over again. Henry showed his teeth, a grin with no hint of amusement. “… that is what you would like to do, huh?” Standing up he stumbled a little, but the pain only served to keep him awake and grow his confidence. It HURT. And it was GOOD. It hurt, his body hurt, HIS BODY was REAL and in PAIN. When he left to the outside, he was surprised to see that he was inside of one of the oldest locations- at least in form. He was standing beside where the stage was supposed to be, coming from where the saferoom used to be, but to his surprise instead of a stage it was a giant price corner, filled with all sort of plushies and other goodies. Sweets and candies, candles, little gadgets… … and a silver coin among them. It shined and felt oddly… powerful. Ten Faztokens. The other things didn’t even have a price tag, so he decided that he would check back on that later. All items were hidden behind a thin glass wall and he wasn’t sure if he could break through it. Maybe he should try later. Moving further down, he realized a few more things were different- There were TWO pirate coves in the main area and- ‘Pssssst… hey… I have something to tell you…’ Abruptly Henry turned around. Where had that voice come from?! ‘Hey… hey, down here…’ It seemed to come from one of the hallways, leading down to the office. As quick as he possible could, he followed the source of the noise, the mysterious whispers slowly growing louder. ‘It is really… really… important…!’ Finally, he was near the supply closet, looking around. “Hello? Where are you? Who are you? What is this place?” The questions broke out of him more erratically than he wanted them too, the desperation and quiet panic bubbling under the thin veil of cold control- it was almost cracking out of him. ‘Pssssst…’ He spotted a little crate with eyes, and leaned down to investigate- Suddenly a loud noise! The thing was all up in his face, making a low noise, pure bass, causing his head to HURT, but not enough that he would have to hold his ears- Just enough that it shook his skin uncomfortably, from the inside out. Stumbling backwards, he shook his head, the crate had disappeared, leaving him with a headache and burning aggression, so potent that his throat felt sore, as though he had screamed from the top of his lungs… despite not a single noise having come out of him. Moving inside of the office, he was somewhat stunned. It looked like a bedroom. With closet and everything. The wallpaper and whole atmosphere felt… old. A child’s bedroom… except there was an office desk, with a fan, a microphone and a weird little action figure of Bonnie on top of it. Some air ducts were hanging into the room and there were- multiple vents, two doors- A flashlight. Quickly he grabbed it. Great- now all he needed was a taser and maybe he would feel like- “… Henry Miller…” A raspy voice sounded to the side of him, causing him to make a few steps back. In front of him, a creature was forming, a Freddy, burned and see through- It grinned. “… long time… no see…” “I have never met you.” “… your memory is failing you, Mr. Miller…” At this point it seemed to become more and more corporeal, reaching out to the table, its paws scraping over and only slightly moving through the material. Turning to the Pink Guy, he opened his maw a little, nothing visible inside. It was getting ready… “… that’s on you however-“ A squeaky voice sounded. “Maybe you should shine your light at him, Mr. Miller!” Instantly, the flash of his light ripped through the ghostly Freddy, who was quite disgruntled to say the least. “… Helpy… you are supposed to help US.” With that he vanished, giving Henry the chance to turn to around and see who’s mysterious helper was. His eyes fell on a little walking bear standing on the blue shelf, trying to hide between the purple fan. “Whoops…” “… who are you? Can you EXPLAIN this place to me?!” “I’m Helpy! Don’t you remember me, Henry?” Fully irritated the Pink Guy stepped back. “No. No, I did not make you. I THOUGHT about making you, but I never did!” “Oh my, Henry, you must have fallen on your head!” Helpy laughed. “But- I can’t help you actually. Everyone else will be mad! So I won’t tell you how the other people here work!” “Can you at least tell me who exactly these ‘others’ are?!” “Uhm… no. I don’t think so.” Slowly he was reaching behind him for something- But Henry couldn’t worry about it, as a phone suddenly started ringing. Shoving off the bear off the shelf (resulting in a little squeak), he tried to find the source of the noise, his head throbbing. He thought he shortly saw a “mute call” button pop up, but as soon as he saw it, it was already gone. Instead a receiver just- fell from the ceiling, randomly. How? Who KNEW- “Uh- hello? Hello, hello?” “… Phone Guy?” “Scott. Uh- anyways- uh, anyways, I wanted to record a message for you, to help you get settled in on your first-“ “This is not a recording. You just interrupted me. And why would there be a phone RINGING if you were to play a recording!?” For a moment it was quiet, then Scott started laughing. “You never changed, did you?” Irritated Henry skipped past that question, having more urgent matters to talk about. “Scott. Good old Scott. Listen, I think I am in some level of hell.” Dumbfounded there was silence on the other end, while the ghostly Freddy tried to reform, being instantly shooed away by the light. Until finally- “… yes of course. Of COURSE you’re in hell, Henry. Uh. What did you expect?” “I-“ “No, no, no, let’s uh- let’s talk about this. Where did you THINK you are? Because, uhm- not sure how to say this, but- uh- I DIED and I’m in HEAVEN right now and you DIED, sooo… uh- yeah.” “I am glad we talked about this. I cannot recall how I GOT here, however. And everyone seems to know me.” Displeased he shined the light at the grinning grimace of the phantom, before he could even fully form. “Yeah… uh… can’t help you. Actually, I have to go. You don’t have a noise activated animatronic around, do you?” “A- what?” “Hm. Too bad. Talk to you later!” “Wait-“ But before he could say anything else, the connection was cut, and his camera system was blinking up red. ‘Catch a fish!’ the title said, his head becoming dizzy as he watched the little red thing move from one side to the other. Wait, that wasn’t just- the noise and the flashing, the air was getting harder and harder to breathe! … smells like brimstone. He managed to catch the fish, albeit just barely, then opened the camera feed, where a warning sign was blinking. The camera itself was completely covered by another phantomlike animatronic, the Mangle this time. Shortly he blinked at it, shaking his head, then clicking the button that said ‘RESET VENTILATION’. A gust of fresh air instantly blew through the location, allowing him to finally breathe again properly. The fan itself seemed useless- he deactivated it. Having climbed back up, Helpy was back on the shelf, looking at him happily. “Are you having fun?” For a moment Henry looked at him, shining away the Freddy once more. “… no.” Out of the corner of his eyes he spotted Balloon Boy, staring at him with his terrible grin. Instantly he hit the button to shut the door, a dull thud coming from it right away. At least that one gave him a hint of satisfaction, pleased with the mental image that the obnoxious plastic abomination ran face-first into the metal wall. “But you look like you have fun!” Helpy reached behind him, before Henry shoved him over again, still not interested in what he was hiding. “You are TERRIBLE at reading emotions then. A useless AI.” Pouting Helpy sat beside the shelf, not answering this time around. Looking around, Henry got comfortable in his chair, slowly growing… a little bit hot. Huh. Seemed like the fan wasn’t entirely useless after all. Maybe it kept the heat from the hell around them away. … what an image… a Freddy’s in the middle of a fire-y pit. He hoped it wasn’t the case. That would make getting out a lot more complicated. “Is this all I have to deal with?” Henry asked Phantom Freddy, who chose not to answer, but only smile grimly. “… I can live with that.” Leaning back, he quickly flipped up the screen once more resetting the ventilation and shutting the vent to the side one more time for good measure. Again, a bonk. Hopefully Balloon Boy. He relaxed. A routine would form easily. Shine your light, reset the vent, keep the generator going, close the side vent for a while. At least for now the place seemed empty- Suddenly something DROPPED from the ceiling. Lights flashed a heap of shadow-y humanoid figures entered with what sounded like cameras, flashing and shining, making Henry’s head spin. On the top of his table stood Funtime Chica posing elegantly. “Don’t get distracted~!” She spun around showing herself off, then blew a kiss down at him. Then she turned to Helpy. “Helpy!!! Why didn’t you tell me our guest was already here!!!” She whined, upset. Her paparazzi had vanished again, she however stuck around. “My first impression was TERRIBLE! Because of YOU!” “I’m sorry Miss Funtime Chica!” Helpy didn’t seem bothered by the accusation. “He was just suddenly here!” “Aw- well- at least he’s a total cutie!” “Why thank you.” Henry rose an eyebrow, but tried to continue focusing on the plastic children trying to enter the office, as well as the Phantom trying to materialize behind her. “I appreciate the compliments, especially from someone who seems to have an eye for it.” “Oooooh, look at him~ so adorable~ I wanna pinch his cheeks!” Sitting down on the desk, the bird smiled widely, watching him. “How’s the night going~?” “Rather fast. I think I have a grip on it though.” “Hm? Are you sure~?” Before Henry could answer his tablet acted up. For a few seconds he saw the little 8-bit fishing game- but before he could catch it, the screen changed showing an add. “COME TO EL CHIP’S FIESTA BUFFET, WE HAVE-“ Instantly clicking on skip, Henry managed to get another glimpse at the game- And then it was gone, a red GAME OVER stuck on his screen. His breath was getting shorter as the smell of brimstone slowly started filling the room again, the red alarms blinking, but the screen constantly flashing error when he tried to access it. More and more his head hurt, the room seemed to become darker and darker- was this smoke?! Was smoke entering the room? Would he be poisoned by the gasses!? Desperately he rattled the screen, while Chica only giggled and left, Helpy watching intensely from the shelf. “You know, if you just wait a few minutes, it’s gonna-“ Frustrated Henry shoved him down once more, his mouth filling with a disgusting taste as the room began spinning- It all come together, once Freddy formed, the Balloon Boy loomed in the vent, a second after, the telephone was ringing- Suddenly the screen flashed back up and he instantly grabbed it, trying to get his bearing as he hit the button to reset, being stuck for a second too long on the grinning grimaces of both a phantom Balloon Boy and Mangle- the latter of which suddenly crawled out of the screen and while he managed to hit the button, his office had descended into chaos. Helpy was holding a horn, the phantom Freddy had almost formed, the phantom Mangle was slowly extending its neck towards him, screaming and gargling in insane glee and to top if all off, the screen flashed red AGAIN, forcing him to focus on that instead of the other two things- Balloon Boy was snickering as he tried to make his way inside, Henry barely being able to shut the vent on him before discovering the stupid crate from the start looking at him from under the table. “Uh- hello? Hello, Hello?” “Scott. Bad timing.” “That is my job!” Cheerfully the Phone Guy said. “To be as much of a nuisance to you as possible. Uh- glad to hear the high praise. How are you? Bad? Good. Uh- anyways, I will now read to you the company greeting, but only the imperfect, first draft so you feel bad about what bullshit you wrote!” “I can crush this phone.” “No, uh- you actually can’t! The afterlife is neat, huh?” “I can mute you.” “If you are fast enough. Which you obviously weren’t. You really grew old, uh- up there…” “MY REFLEXES ARE GREAT AS EVER.” “If it were the case you wouldn’t, uh- y’know. Fighting with me over this.” “I am not fighting with you, I am merely correcting you. As I always did while we were alive.” Stopping the petty crap, seeing as he wasn’t even sure if this WAS actually the real Scott, he turned his attention to more important things. “What is this place? Who made it?!” “Uh- Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza! A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person-“ Instantly Henry tuned out. “Good riddance, Scotty.” He mumbled to himself, taking solace in the memory that no matter what, this obnoxious Phone-head had been dead for much longer than he himself. While the words kept going in the background, he kept working, pausing as a bright green mechanical parrot flew through his office. But- it didn’t really do anything, so he decided to ignore it for now. A good amount of time passed with his voice in the background, until it was abruptly cut off- seemingly by the ad for El Chip’s. Once that was skipped, the office was quiet, aside from the fan. Finally! The silence lingered. For a second Henry felt a bit lonely. Not even the little bear was there anymore. There was enough to do though, as the air kept needing to be reseted, Freddy kept popping up, the parrot came through once more, the minigame, the annoying balloon children wanted in- At last… … it was five AM. One last time the call sounded. Henry allowed it to come through, despite eyeing the ‘mute call’ button. “Hello? Hello, hello!?” It sounded on the other side. “Hey! You’re doing GREAT. I, uh- didn’t expect you to last this long! I mean-“ He broke off. “Y’know. Usually I expected you to move on to other things by now… disappearing into the void like you should, seeing as there’s no out.” “I will not disappear.” “Huh. Guess I owe the person who made this place an apology. I was wrong-“ “Who?! Who was it?! Who are you TALKING about?!” But before anything could be said, the bell chimed. Six AM His screen changed once more, a high-score board showing, then loud music started blasting from the speakers, hyper and fast paced, the numbers blinking and colorful, rapidly climbing higher and higher as fireworks were set up on the screen and around Henry, raining down confetti as they exploded- GREAT JOB! FANTASTIC! The fireworks stopped and the jingle ended with a congratulatory little up and down. Then the office was dark. Slowly he stood up, leaving to the outside, checking for danger- “Hey! You won. Here, take this for your trouble.” Suddenly ANOTHER Freddy was there, a golden star on his chest- he dropped a battery into Henry’s hands that he had grabbed, then he walked off. “Wait- wait a moment! I need an explanation! I need-“ The bear was gone. After a while of searching around the place and not finding an exit, Henry finally sighed and made his way back into the saferoom- or employees only lounge, or- whatever. Inside it was just like before. Safe. Except this time the TV was on. And there was a Fredbear suit on the sofa. How? Who knew. Why? Hopefully not to kill him. Slowly he moved next to it, inspecting it. At this moment it seemed completely lifeless, yet somehow he felt watched. “Am I… interrupting…?” No reaction. Walking past the suit, he put away the battery. Still no reaction, but he could swear the creature was looking at him. Unsure he approached it once more, sitting down besides him. “… looking at… fuzzystatic. I see. I think I will… join.” Suddenly, a loud noise of came from the tv, then it flashed. INTERMISSION. A little bit later, Henry was done watching a samurai Freddy fighting an ULTRA edgy Foxy, he put his face into his hands. “… send me back out. Please. I actually prefer it.”

#henry miller #Henry in hell #<- Series tag in case it becomes one #I'm not satisfied #Not satisfied at all #But I don't know if this is my brain tormenting me like it has been for a while #or if it's actually no good #I'd love some earnest feedback #Maybe sticking so close to an actual run isn't as good as I imagined it to be #Anyways going to sleep and stop beating myself up about this

9 notes · View notes

fordanoia · 4 years

Text

I Think I Saw You [Ch 4: Downstairs]

Fandom: Gravity Falls || CW: Swearing, Brief horror-style description, “Life or Death” Scare || Stan comes to Gravity Falls upon receiving a postcard from Ford, but he can’t find him and he has to figure out what’s going on. || Ao3 || Fic Tag

Prologue || Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || - || -

______(~3.9k words)______

Stan ran, the sound of feet pounding and shouting echoing off of stone walls following after him.

He entered a circular room lit by torches, several sepia-toned corridors stretching out all around him. He paused, turning around in the middle of the room and glancing over for any differences between all the paths that looked like every single path he'd seen tonight.

A gunshot rang out, and as Stan ducked it flew past him, breaking a chunk of stone away from the wall.

Cursing, he glanced back down the hallway with figures in the distance coming after him before picking a random path and sprinting down it.

He took sharp turn after sharp turn, trying to lose them. After one turn, the hallway turned to carved stone and hardened dirt, a dug out tunnel with wooden beams spread out along the way to support it and stop it from caving in.

A dim blue light came from the end of the tunnel and as he got close he could see a figure in a long trench coat pass by at the end of it.

Already, Stan was at the end of the tunnel and whipping around the corner. “Fo-!” He skidded to a stop as Ford, who'd only been a couple feet around the corner, jumped away in time before Stan ran right into him.

Ford whipped around to look at him, a sharp look on his eyes and everything about him askew and honestly, just looking a lot worse than the last time Stan had seen him.

“Hey. So, heads up," Stan said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, "they’re after us.”

“Who- No.” Ford’s face scrunched up momentarily, before quickly hardening again. “No, I am not doing this again.”

Ford moved back as Stan got out of eye sight from the tunnel.

“Not doing it? Great, I want that option too then.” Stan gestured outwards with both arms, momentarily peeking back down the tunnel. “So, how are we doing the ‘not doing it’ option?”

Ford scowled at him.

“I know I make some hilarious jokes, but I’m being serious when I say I really goddamn want that option, alright. I want out of here.” Stan said, emphasizing the last bit. “Tonight’s been...”

Falling towards pit spikes, hacksaws cutting through and hitting bone, and way too many people that knew him. (Not to mention how Ford kept leaving him behind, and even when he was around...)

“Tonight’s just been bad, alright.” Stan said. “So can we ditch on finding this thing or not, Sixer?” Ford had been the one to insist he had to be down here, and if he was tired too maybe that meant they could get out of here already.

Ford paused a moment before evenly asking. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“The- You were the one that said we needed to come down here in the first place to find the thing.” The only reason they were even down here in this mini hell was because of Ford.

“Sure.” Ford said in blatant suspicion and disregard. “So, what is it then?”

“What is this? A friggin’ pop quiz? Some machine thing. Again,” Stan pointed at him, “you were the one that said we needed it and, oh by the way, you still haven’t even told me what it looked like or what it's for!”

“I know I’m not looking for ‘some machine thing.’” Ford said firmly.

Stan turned around in a frustrated circle to keep himself from just screaming at this point. “What the hell are we doing under the museum then?!”

“This isn’t even under the museum, and I wouldn’t be looking for anything here.”

“Jeez, okay. Where are we then, huh? You tell me. Come on, Ford. Where are we? What are we actually doing?” He questioned.

Ford shifted on his feet and glanced aside in concentration.

“What? You said we aren’t under the museum so if we’re not under the museum then where are we? We can’t be nowhere.”

“I didn’t say this was nowhere.” He argued back, visibly uncomfortable and still not looking at Stan.

“Great. Great, I’m glad we can agree on that." Stan fired back sarcastically, not caring anymore about keeping his voice down to keep from getting caught. He was so goddamn tired of running around like this without understanding anything that was going on. "So, come on then. Where are we? Better yet - What's going on, Ford?” Heasked insistently. “Tell me what’s actually going on here!”

“You-!” Ford snatched Stan by the front of his jacket, a hostile expression on his face that Stan immediately recognized. The last time when Ford had looked at him like that he’d had no problem telling him what he thought, but this time his words stopped almost immediately. The one accusatory word still burned in the air though, backed up by some unspoken damnation.

Ford’s face twisted in frustration, and just as quickly as he’d grabbed Stan out of nowhere, he’d already let him go again. He stepped backwards, moving several feet away from Stan.

Stan took a step forward, half thinking for a moment that Ford was gonna just go off again and after that too. “What the hell was that?!”

“This couldn’t be the museum underground anyhow because it’s under my house.” Ford said, attempting and failing to sound neutral.

“Okay, so now this is your house again, I don’t actually care." Stan said, hands waving to emphasize. "I want to know what’s going on! What is with you?” He asked. “Why are you acting like I did something? All I’ve done has been avoid getting shot for the past fifteen minutes, Ford!”

Ford stayed decisively quiet this time, brow furrowed as he he evenly stared back at Stan.

“If I did something, then just-” Stan ground on his teeth. He didn’t even know what he did, why Ford kept...

“Just tell me what I did! I know you’re dying to anyway so just do it already! What did I screw up this time, Ford?” Stan took a couple steps forward.

Whenever Stan took a step forward, Ford took a measured step backwards to keep the distance.

Stan stopped, fists at his side, and even still Ford just... wouldn't say anything. He just watched him with a wary expression.

“Why am I even down here with you when you keep ditching me?” He finally asked.

Ford finally broke his silence, but he didn't get far. "I-"

The cavernous room around them cracked loudly, stone splitting apart and throwing them both off balance. The crashing noises and sputtering of machinery came quickly after it, as huge pieces of metal fell to the ground. Stan caught onto a wooden beam for support, scratching his hand on rough wood as he stumbled for balance before it could happen again.

The sound of familiar static, made him glance back over at Ford.

Ford was half fallen onto the ground, bracing himself up by his arms and one foot sunk into freshly dug dirt. Looking pissed off, he opened his mouth to yell to Stan, but the only thing that came out was a loud static.

All at once, the floor underneath Stan’s feet was gone and he clutched his nails into the wooden beam, but it just fell with him as he plunged into the darkness, the sound of static from above quickly fading.

____________

Stan jerked awake in a sweat, encased in way too many blankets that were smothering him. He kicked himself out of the cocoon of blankets for cold air as he woke up.

Gray light streamed in from the small window, casting the whole room in gray, the fire in front of him long since burned down to ash and black embers. It had to almost be afternoon by this point.

His mind slowly turned away from the nightmare and into reality which- hell, which wasn’t that great either.

Stan rubbed his face with his hands and slowly pushed himself off the ground. He took a shower to wash off the sweat and changed, happy to let the majority of the nightmare fade from memory.

It felt like it had lasted forever and honestly had been a lot more draining than how a nightmare usually went for him. Of course, it’s not exactly like he had a lot of fun stuff on his mind lately, so it wasn’t that weird, he guessed.

On his way to the kitchen, he picked up the two way radio again. He held it in front of his face, the radio still off.

He sighed, placing it on the counter, his hand staying on top of it for a long moment before he finally turned it on again. The white static filling the kitchen reminding him of falling.

Stan put his hands out. “So, you got anything or am I gonna have to break out a woogie board to hear from you?” (Not a ghost.) “Err- a flashlight. I know you can mess with lights.”

He waited, eventually lowering his hands again as nothing answered him.

“Maybe...” Maybe Ford just needed more time then he’d be able to talk, maybe he’d be able to do morse code fine on a smaller light, maybe he just was past the point of being able to talk at all.

“You know, maybe something’s downstairs that can help.” Stan finally said, clipping the radio back at his hip again.

He ate through a couple bites of canned brown meat for breakfast, the sound of static making him lose his appetite really quick. Of course, he could just turn it off, but- but if Ford had a spare second where he could talk and Stan had the radio off then he’d miss it. Stan was pretty happy with his dumb luck, but he also had ridiculously bad luck too that bit him in the butt as much as possible.

Stan walked back to the back room, flicking on the light and standing in front of that stupid, metal door again.

“For the record,” he started casually, “if I can’t get this open, I’m just breaking through your floor or the wall here.” Man, did some property damage sound really good right now. He was pretty sure he'd seen an ax at some point.

“If you didn’t want property damage you should have given me a key or something.”

Stan paused for a moment, an idea crossing his mind because he did have one code. It was stupid though.

Then again, if he was just gonna press random buttons to see what worked then why not try the one he’d used in his dream. What was it going to do anyways? Make a bomb go off?

He didn't remember most of the conversation he'd had during the dream in front of the door, before the dream went south into nightmare territory, but he sure as hell remembered the stupid code from it.

“Alright,” he muttered, pressing the last button, “open... sesame.”

A hiss of air came from behind the door, and Stan startled, taking a step back as the door slowly swung open.

The thick metal door gently stopped with a gentle thump as it hit the wall, and in front of Stan was a wooden platform.

Stan stepped inside and glanced down the uniform planks leading downwards, dimly lit and leading right to a metal grate door.

Just like that. It was open.

“Ha!!” He bounded down the stops, excited. “Now that’s what I-”

The static suddenly came to life, and a scrambling sound, causing him to stumble to a step where he was, putting a hand out on the wall to stop himself.

“What-?” He paused. “What is it?”

There was nothing along the walls besides- well, he spotted a greasy hand mark with six fingers, but that was it. Even if it did turn out to be some secret entrance, he'd check it back out later.

"Ford?" He waited, with a frown. He took a step backwards then forwards again, but there wasn't another sound this time so Stan continued downstairs.

At the bottom of the steps, he came face to face with an elevator. He pressed the call button and waited as he heard the grind of gears bringing the platform up.

The doors opened with a ding and Stan stepped inside. “Okay, well, I’m just gonna go- uh.”

The small elevator didn't have a lot in it, but it had one more button than he was expecting. “Okay, so you had two whole secret floors. So which one-”

He got cut off by the radio, once again coming to life and this time very loud, but he heard a hint of Ford’s voice. Ford could talk, not a lot, but he could!

Stan left that to deal with later though because as good as it was, he still couldn't understand Ford at all.

“Okay, let me try this.” He said, putting a hand out. “Speak up when I’m over the right floor.”

He hovered his finger over the ‘3’ first and the static started to scramble with a sort of higher pitched tone.

“See? Easy.” Stan said, pressing the button.

The static fluctuated harshly as the elevator started winding downwards.

“Relax,” he said, “I meant easy as far as talking like this can get right now.”

There was a gentle beep as he reached the bottom floor and the doors opened, low red light spilling into the elevator with him.

In front of him was a small room lined with all kinds of machines and tubes and switches. He slowly walked past them all, looking at them as he went. There were so many gizmos and monitors, few of which had any kind of label of course, and it quickly got confusing what any of them actually did.

Then he saw past a clear observation glass and into a cavernous room with a massive triangular structure looming high. There was a circular hole punched through the middle of it and wires going from it to some metal rings in the middle of the floor.

“Okay. Okay.” Stan said. “So, what the hell is that?”

He wasn’t surprised to hear nothing answer him this time though. He hadn't really been expecting an answer because whatever that answer was it was probably really complicated and nerdy.

“Jeez.” He stepped through the side door, the air dropping several degrees and making a chill go up his spine. Without the heat from all the machines running, it was freezing this far underground.

He slowly walked towards one of the metal rings on the floor, feeling out of his depth. It wasn't like he didn't know Ford worked on stuff like this, there'd been loads of gizmos upstairs, but this was different. It was big and he didn't know what it did, but if it needed all the stuff from the other room to work then it was for something huge.

The radio quietly fluctuated strangely, and Stan paused where he was at, but the sound continued.

He waited for it to stop or for Ford to speak up, but after a while it just sounded like actual interference.

Stan glanced back at the huge centerpiece in the room.

Stan took an experimental step backwards, the noise disappearing, and then forward again only for it to return again.

As he took slow steps towards the machine, the interference got louder and gradually began to sound more corrupted until he was in arms reach of where the structure was bolted down into a support column.

After a while it started to sound like... chatter bleeding through. All kinds of noises that ran over and under and through each other, and amidst all of it he could hear what had to be voices. Then what sounded like a peal of unnatural laughter.

Stan stepped back, keeping his eye on the structure with a weird feeling that he couldn’t place. Okay, well - it was creeped out. The feeling was 'creeped the hell out.' The thing about though was that it was also giving him more ideas about what this thing was, and maybe even about Ford.

If he could hear- well, he wasn’t really sure he should be calling these voices ‘people’ - but if he could hear them, then what if this had something to do with what or wherever Ford was at. He could hear both of them through the radio so maybe it was the same place.

Ignoring the interference now, Stan walked around the huge room looking for anything else that stuck out, but he quickly gave up because the only thing else around was a couple of work tables with power tools on them.

“Alright,” he said, walking back through the control room. “Ford, what-”

The static fluctuated sudden and sharply, and Stan stopped where he was at, near one of the several machines.

He paused, looking to his right and the static flared up with a high pitched noise when Stan put his hand over the top of the panel of a screen, some buttons, and a large lever.

His heart rate picked up and he looked down, slowly hovering his hand over everything there, waiting for noise when he heard a light bulb shatter to his left.

Stan pulled his hand back sharply, looking around. “Jeez! So, we're shattering lights again?" He asked. "We're back to shattering light bulbs like they don't make sharp shards of glass go everywhere? Great. You know there's other ways to get attention with..."

He noticed a blinking light in a familiar pattern then. Where the elevator was set back and away from everything, the light bulb beside it was flashing. Three short. Three long. Then over again.

A bulb right near his head buzzed with electricity then burnt out and the radio at his hip screamed, a haywire noise.

He winced and turned the volume down slightly.

All the lights near him from the blinking and whirring machines started to flicker in a line towards the panel he was already beside.

Stan glanced in confusion between the two sets of lights, the ones right where he was at, then the one all the way back again at the elevator signalling even faster now for help. The lights beside him stopped for just a moment, then the elevator light burnt out, and they resumed again pointing him back to that panel.

The radio blared, the staticky noise coming out more intense and higher pitched than he’d heard it in the car, missing the smallest hint of resemblance to Ford’s voice; and it finally clicked.

Stan took the radio off of his hip and hit the off switch on it, cutting off the static shredding over itself, leaving the room in a near silence aside from the quiet buzz of electricity and whirring fans.

There was something here besides Ford.

Stan turned, walking back towards the elevator, ignoring the insistently flashing lights pointing in the opposite direction.

The lights that had kept burning out whenever they’d started flashing in morse code, that had been stopping Ford every time he tried to send a message.

Stan pushed the button to open the elevator doors again and got inside. “That thing has been talking all over you since yesterday, hasn’t it?” He asked

The light bulb inside the elevator weakly flickered.

He let out a slow breath, still thinking and running back through everything that had happened yesterday. It made sense when he thought it had just been a spirit, and even less as Ford, but with Ford and something else both trying to use the lights it made a lot more sense why Stan kept getting mixed signals.

As long as this thing was around, he had virtually zero chance of reliably getting to talk with Ford. It hadn’t been around during the drive back to the shack thoug so there had to be some windows of opportunity here. Problem was Stan didn’t know when those were.

“Alright,” Stan said, “then you talk over it too, Ford, and when it’s gone I’ll be able to actually hear you.”

There wasn’t a response, but at this point he knew he couldn’t really get anything right now. Not with that thing hanging around too.

“I’m just gonna start calling it bastard since that’s all I know about it.”

The light bulb in the elevator burnt out, and Stan smiled slightly.

“Oh, hey there bastard. Glad to see you're on board with your nickname." He said with a self satisfied smile, pressing the button for the second floor.

He actually didn't know how much they could se

In all seriousness, this bastard was a huge roadblock, but there had to be something important on this other floor. Maybe something that would help him actually figure out what was going on.

The elevator dinged and this time it stopped in front of a fancy, wooden door that looked like it belonged inside of an old library instead of several feet underground some shack in the woods.

A hint of light spilled out from the cracks around the door frame, and when Stan turned the golden knob it was to a fully lit room and he blinked as he stepped inside the room that was a blur of colors, adjusting his eyes to the sudden change in light.

When he was able to see, his heart stopped in his chest. A string somewhere behind his ribs snapping and the corner of his eyes burned.

“No.”

It was an eclectic mess, but at the back of the room in front of a desk chair was a figure on the ground in a wrinkled, white shirt and dark pants.

Ford, laid out on his back and looking as though he’d fallen and never gotten back up or even moved.

Stan’s legs buckled underneath him and he blindly reached for the door, but it only swung further open when his hand hit it and Stan was in the middle of a huge void that had somehow gotten inside him and was eating him from the inside out.

“No.”

His body weight shifted forward and he broke into a sprint down the room, dropping onto the floor beside Ford’s body and pulling himself closer to him from where Stan had landed.

He grabbed onto Ford’s shoulders, hands locking into a harsh, white knuckled grip on him.

Where Ford’s face was resting on the ground, the lens of his glasses was cracked. His face was gaunt and pale, the purple circles under his eyes sticking out against the too white skin.

Stan had been yelling Ford’s name all over the house, he could have heard him. Stan had shouted loud enough, even this far down he would have been able to hear him. If he was- If Ford had just been down here this entire time...

“Ford-” Stan’s voice cut out, his throat tensing up too much to let anything else out, not even air.

Slowly, Stan leaned down and pressed his ear against Ford’s chest, listening.

A silent second passed by, then another. Then he heard it. A weak thump.

A rush of air left Stan’s lungs. He listened to that same thump repeat itself again after another moment, and a couple more times as the world righted itself again.

Stan lifted his head back up, and shook his brother. “Ford. Hey, Stanford. Up and- Hell, never mind. Hospital time, let's go."

Stan stopped trying to wake him, because there were a lot of obvious reasons why that wasn’t happening right now, and instead moved to pick him up from the ground. He put his hands underneath Ford’s body and leaned against the spiral staircase to lift Ford with him as he stood back up.

Adjusting his hold so he wouldn’t drop him, Stan took off back to the elevator.

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #gravity falls fics #my fics #Fic: I Think I Saw You #y' A LL!!!!#i won't spoil in my own friggin tags but #look okay let's just say Something Happens in this chapter #ngl this is the chapter i've been going :eyesemoji: at #i stressed a lil about getting it done right #i actually pulled back a lil on the drama of a couple moments #(the Spice from 1 moment is gonna hit back later and hard)#/look/ i'm just Hyped bc wE right there #(got Reveals this chapter is the last thing i'll say)#tbd

22 notes · View notes

leah-halliwell92 · 5 years

Text

Sex, Love & Rock ‘n’ Roll

Request by @ohmybribri: So you and Brian are FWB and you hook up after a concert in the bathroom. He pins you up against the wall, lifts your skirt and had his way with you... 🤤🤤🤤🤤

Another day, another concert. That’s how it had been since you’d joined the boys on the second leg of there American tour. According to Freddie, Brian had been a bit of a pain since leaving home because all he would talk about was you. You doubted that very much laughing off as he walked you to the cab he came in to pick you up.

You expected for the rest of the boys to be there but was reassured by Fred that they were at the hotel catching up on much needed sleep. That and trying to keep Brian busy considering you are his birthday surprise from Fred, and the boys, to him.

“I swear on my mum (Y/N) he’s been driving all of us mad!” Fred said being as physically emphatic as he could in the cramped space of the cab stating that, “He really needs to shut up about his girl if he’s so set on not telling her his feelings.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes at that and focused on the speeding scenery. There’s no way Brian sees you that way...they way you see him.

You met Brian at Uni he needed a hand understanding Shakespeare. You were working on getting your major in child psychology and a double minor in art and English lit. Through Brian you met the rest of the band and was soon part of their rag-tag family which suited you just fine, more than fine even. You and Brian made great friends and soon found the effort they needed to put into just getting laid to be too great to spend outside of studying and raising a band in Brian’s case. This led to Roger jokingly/drunkenly suggesting you and Bri should, ‘fuck for the sake of fucking’.

At first you’d laughed it off but then found that it wasn’t such a bad idea. You’d been surprised to find Brian at your dorm door giving your silent self-agreement to the friends with benefits idea a try and the rest as they say is history.

That had been close to three years, give or take, ago. The agreement had just been for sex, we could if we liked date or go on dates and at first it worked great on both sides. He seemed more confident in himself if still a little shy but better at talking to other ladies. You hadn’t realized you’d fallen for him until you saw him at the school’s cafeteria talking to Laura Clark. Your ex-best friend who thought she deserved the world on a gold and pearl studded platter.

You’d brushed it off at first but that night when he came to you the sex didn't feel like sex per say. It was sex but it felt different...

He was gentler when he caressed you and nibbled at your neck. He’d take his time getting you to completion and sometimes would forgo finishing himself in exchange for giving you pleasure when he knew you’d had a trying day.

And in turn, you stopped leaving at the crack of dawn. Some of your things made their way into his room, your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom and you’d often wake up to find him somehow tucked under your chin his hair effectively waking you up. That morning had been the morning you realized how good you’d be as a couple. That was the morning you also realized he couldn’t feel the same way...

“We’re here!” You heard Freddie say.

You smiled at him and nearly choked on spit when you saw Prenter standing outside what you thought is the boys’ room smoking. You didn't like him one bit and Freddie knew that. You were more than a little close to asking Miami if you could take Paul’s place as the band’s PA just to get rid of the leech.

Anyway...You nodded politely at the Irishman and let Fred walk you into the first of the shared double-rooms to find Deaky downing what looked like crap hotel coffee.

His tired eyes sparkled and you soon found yourself enveloped in the bassist’s arms.

“Finally,” he said as he kissed your forehead.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes again knowing where that was coming from and dove into your bag pulling out a gift meant for him from Veronica.

Deaky resembled a puppy at the sight of the parcel and went to open it in an out fo the way corner of the room.

It was no surprise to find Roger face down on the bed passed out as you thought with a laugh, ‘play my little drummer boy play.’

You shook your head and went into the room Deaky nodded at you leaving Freddie with him.

You couldn’t help the fond smile that graced your face at the sight of Brian face down and sprawled all over his bed hugging the second pillow to himself. You put your stuff down and stripped down to your light tank and underwear before closing the door. The boys had seen you in your undies before so you weren’t bothered to be seen by them, they’re brothers after all.

That done, you went to the empty side of the bed. You noticed it’s the side you normally slept on back home and grinned tenderly before you began the process sliding under the blanket and trade places with the pillow. You must have been more tired than you thought as the familiarity and warmth of Brian’s arms surrounded you when he subconsciously sought out the now present source of warmth.

You threw your leg over his thin hips pulling his body close to yours and placing his head under your chin. You hummed and fell asleep quickly as your body and mind recognized that they were finally home.

You came to to the feeling of gentle calloused fingers caressing your cheek. You kept your eyes closed as Brian ran his fingers over you tenderly before slipping them under the waistband of your underwear.

You moaned at the feel of his middle finger drawing circles around then over your clit.

“Good evening (Y/N),” he said as he repeated the hand movement over and over until you gasped and moaned as your completion washed over you.

Brian looked pleased with himself at having made you cum so quickly but that changed into something softer as he gazed at you as you caught your breath.

‘To hell with it,’ you thought throwing in the towel, ‘If this is as close as I’m going to get so be it.’

You snuggled into him humming happily and said, “Happy Birthday Bri.”

You felt more than heard him chuckle.

“What?” You asked when you pulled away to look up at him.

“Thanks dear but that wasn’t the birthday present I was expecting,” he said with a shrug, “Don’t get me wrong, having you here is an amazing unexpected surprise.”

You were about to kick him off the bed in anger when he continued, “There’s this one thing I’ve always wanted to do...”

You listened to what he wanted his present to be and nearly jumped out of bed in glee, tonight’s concert was going to be good.

That night you stood back stage singing along with everyone else as they played. You cheered extra loud when Brian did his solos loving every time he did his thing with his Red Special. For a moment you forgot you were just friends who fucked and let the thought of being his run through your head.

You cried when they performed “Love of my Life” and applauded when they song ended.

“He’ll find someone better you know,” you heard Paul say as he took a drag from his cigarette.

You ignored him focusing on the boys.

“You're just his friend,” he pressed, “What will you do when he falls for someone? Someone better than a nobody from his hometown.”

That hit you hard, he was right after all but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You saw him smirk as he saw your face fall.

You stood straight as a smirk appeared on your face.

“What’s with the smile?” He asks a bit taken aback with the sudden change of emotion.

“Fred and I talked on our way to the hotel today,” you said, unbeknownst to you and Paul the concert had finished and the boys were there looking as well as listening to what you were saying, “He said he wants me to the band’s personal assistant.”

He scoffed taking a nervously long drag from his cigarette, “Meaning?”

You smirked and said, “Your fired.”

He coughed at that and said, “You can’t do that!”

“Oh yes she can darling,” Freddie said surprising the both of you.

“Fred,” Paul began.

“Goodbye Paul,” he said and made his way to the nearest telephone to call Miami and inform him of the sudden change.

You’d seen the looks of relief and happiness on Roger and Deaky’s faces but before you could say anything else Brian was dragging you away from back stage giving the nearest roady his guitar before pulling you into the nearest empty bathroom and locking the door before laying a hard kiss on your lips.

Brian reached down and pulled you up to wrap your legs around his waist lifting your skirt up as he continued on kissing you.

You gasped and moaned as he ran his tongue over hour bottom lip asking for permission. You gladly opened your mouth to him and moaned at the sudden chill that met your crotch as he tore away your underwear.

He pulled away to work his pants open.

“Brian–” you began but was interrupted as a moan broke out of you when he entered you.

The air was filled with moans and grunts as you shifted your hips meeting his pace with every thrust.

You were close now, so close to cumming when you said, “I love you...make me yours.”

Brian’s eyes lit up at this and he stilled.

“You mean it?” He asked eyes alight with wonder.

“Yes,” you say taking a leap of faith, “I love you Brian Harold May.”

He smiled and his kiss went from hurried and hungry to love filled and tender.

“Happy birthday to me indeed,” he said with a smirk and made to finish when you heard banging at the door.

“Get a move on lovebirds we want to go eat and sleep!” Roger yelled.

“Bugger off!” Brian yelled before reluctantly helping you down.

“Should do as he says,” you say as you fix your skirt, “he won’t leave us alone otherwise.”

He nodded looking every bit a lost puppy.

“I can warn Deaky and Fred to be out for bit,” you say with a playful smirk.

Brian pulled you into a loving embrace and kiss suddenly eager to be back at the hotel to finish what was started.

#brian may #brian may request #brian may imagine #brian may x reader #70s brian may

75 notes · View notes

greekowl87 · 5 years

Text

Fic: After Shock

A/N: I feel like I haven’t had time to breathe since I started the new job and my anxiety has made it so I haven’t been sleeping a lot either. I haven’t been writing either. So decided to rewatch ‘Wetwire’ after some friends were just rewatching and tried to bust out a quick fic. It took two weeks.I don’t know where my head took me with this. Taggin @90saolchatroom because it was one of her comments that started this idea.

P.S. I also make a reference to another fic I wrote called Sure. Fine. Whatever. Also, @90saolchatroom‘s headcanon was also the source of inspiration that well. Heck, she was the inspiration for these fics period.

P.P.S. No beta so mucho apologies for the typos. Between lack of sleep and getting used to the new job, I’m sorry.

Tagging @today-in-fic @baronessblixen @improlificinsarcasm

Scully was free to leave the hospital after a few days of observation with her mother dogging her at each step. She couldn’t blame her, especially after what had happened. Fears of trust and betrayal. Rushing to the only place where she thought she had left. Pointing a gun at her partner. Breaking down in her mother’s arms still grasping her weapon, afraid to give up control. She remembered feeling Mulder’s sad gaze linger as her mother soothed Scully.

The same moment had entirely had been mirrored months previously with Modell control Mulder and point a gun at her. The pain Mulder realized he couldn’t control his own actions. And then with her, she had shown just the opposite. Fear. True fear. What an odd twist of fate. In shared moments of desperation, both had almost shot their respective partners. Except for this time, something resonated deeply in Scully’s heart. A deep ache that hadn’t healed.

After many promises to call Maggie Scully in the morning and assurances that Scully would be fine in her Georgetown apartment, her mother left shortly before ten. The paranoia was still fresh in her mind, however, that was one side effect she hated from the entire experience. She could remember everything. Logically, she knew there was nothing to be afraid of but that would stop checking the locks on all of her windows and triple checking the lock on her front door. Satisfied that she was safe, Scully retreated to her bathroom to draw a long bath in an effort to relax.

It still bothered Scully that she could have let herself think that: Mulder had betrayed her and broken their deeply earned trust in one another. As she slid beneath the steaming water and bubbles, she flashed back over the past three years. Tooms trying to kill her in her bathroom. Duane Barry breaking through her living room windows that lead to abduction. Then to chasing Mulder down to Puerto Rico and staying with him even after news of Melissa taking the bullet meant for her.

Scully flinched in memory, a twinge of regret. It should have been her instead of her sister. When Missy and her mother had needed her, she was with Mulder, chasing the Truth with a capital ‘t’, finding her name amongst endless files that should not exist.

But in the hospital room, when Scully arrived at a vacant bed, it was Mulder who wordlessly held her hand in that empty hospital room and then hugged her as she became adrift with grief. But during all this, during these past three years, Scully had come to trust him more than she would have thought possible. But now that regret and anxiety lingered over her current actions. Had she destroyed it? What they had? What was there left to go back to?

Unable to help herself, Scully climbed out to tub, draining the water, and reached for her cordless phone. It was near midnight but she knew Mulder to be up. The man hardly slept. After she dialed his number and reaching is answering machine, she decided to get dressed and drive to Old Town Alexandria, her conscience weighing heavier by the minute. The midnight drive took longer than she would have liked and parking being worse than she imagined. She turned up the radio in an effort to drown out her thoughts as she parked the car. Scully could go back home and pretend she was okay for the next time they saw each other at the office on Friday morning or she could do something.

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

Scully found herself in front of apartment number 42 with her hand poised to knock but the door was quickly pulled open. “I saw you parking from the window,” Mulder greeted her softly. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

Scully tried to look beyond her tall partner and saw a reading lamp on, heard The Cranberries playing, and no blue tv light. “Um, no.” She refocused her gaze. “Um...I called and it went straight to voicemail. I was, uh…”

“Did you? I must’ve missed it. I ran out to get some food. Are you hungry?”

He stepped away from the entryway and opened the door wider so she could come in. “So no tv tonight?”

He lowered the volume on his stereo. “I thought I would take a break from watching tv, given recent events.”

She chuckled. “Don’t stop on account of me.” Mulder disappeared into the kitchen as Scully picked the book he had been reading up off the table. “I could tell you the ending to the book your reading, Mulder.”

“I thought I would give it a go since I remind you so much of the title character. You remember our conversation when you wrecked the boat,” Mulder laughed from the kitchen. Scully looked down at the library copy of Moby Dick fondly. “And don’t ruin it.”

“Some coincidence, Mulder.”

“I guess.” He came back out with two cans of soda and one hand and two plates balanced precariously on his other arm like a waiter. “I think I remembered. Beef and broccoli with white rice instead of noodles because you want to be healthier, sweet and sour chicken for me and one single egg roll for you.”

“Mulder, that’s our normal Chinese order. I wasn’t planning on coming over tonight.”

“Call it initiation.” He paused and shrugged. “I must have done it out of habit. Now that I have, we can’t let it go to waste can we?”

“I suppose not,” Scully conceded

“So,” Mulder began, passing her the plate, “are you feeling any better? Not gonna draw your weapon at me if the rice isn’t hot enough?”

“Mulder, please don’t. I feel bad enough as it is what happens.” She sighed, looking at the food. “I still feel ashamed.”

“Scully, you can’t let it eat you like that,” he answered. “You weren’t in your right mind. Just like when Modell controlled me. We had no control over the situation.”

They sat on the leather couch so close that they were touching. Scully moved slightly in an effort to make it less awkward. She shoveled the Chinese around on the plate. “I feel like I did, in some way. Why would it make me believe that you had betrayed me?”

“It prayed on our worst fears. I guess,” he paused in thought, “I guess my betrayal is one of yours.”

“Well, it’s true. I thought you would actually betray me, kill me...I can’t believe I let myself accuse you of those things.” She shook her head in disgust. “Mulder, how can you be okay with this? Be mad. Do something. Anything!”

“Scully,” Mulder sighed, “please don’t.” She set the plate in front of her, unable to eat. He sighed and took her hand without thinking. “Please don’t let us go down that road. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“How could you be so forgiving, Mulder? I pointed a gun at you. I’ve shot you before, don’t forget!”

“Did you forget I did this same to you not a few months ago?” And he smiled sadly. “And you shot me because I was out of my mind. You saved me, remember? Who else could perform surgery both with a pistol and scalpel?” She bit her lip and tried to pull her hand away. Mulder did not let her hand go. “Neither were you. So why do you hold yourself to a set of different standards than everyone else, Scully? I’m allowed to make mistakes but you aren’t?”

“I can’t afford to be,” she answered after a few moments. She gave up fighting. “I can’t afford to be because I have to prove just as much as the next guy.”

“Not to me, remember? You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“But I accused you of…”

“You weren't in the right state of mind or have you forgotten? Let it go, Scully. Now eat something before your dinner gets cold.”

Mulder forced the plate into her hand and took a few bites of his own meal. After a moment’s hesitation, Scully followed suit. They continued to eat in silence as The Cranberries played. How could he be so forgiving of her?

“So what’s next?” She asked as she finished her Chinese. “For us?”

Mulder shrugged and picked up the plates. “I’m not letting you travel again tonight, that’s for sure. I know you just got out of the hospital, but it would give me peace of mind. And I don’t fancy your mother’s wrath when she learns you are out and about.”

“You’re no better than my mother. I’m fine, Mulder.”

He knew a losing battle when he saw it when it came to his partner. Her independence and stubbornness matched his own. “Well, at least let me drive you home, using your car and I will catch a cab back here.”

“Mulder, you don’t have to baby me,” she said.

“I’m not babying you. I…” Mulder sighed. “I just worry about you, Scully. And care. That’s all. I’d prefer you stay here honestly. I just want to make sure you are okay.”

For a moment, Scully let her guard down. Maybe she was still tired of everything from the previous ordeal or maybe it was more. Maybe she was just tired of more than the most recent life or death situation. “And what sleep on your couch? It isn’t necessarily that big.”

“I have a seldom-used bedroom, aka the guest room as I call it. You can stay there.”

“Mulder, I’m fine.” She stifled a yawn and wiped the sleep from her eyes. “If you want to mother hen me then come back with me to Georgetown and I will call you a cab. I just want to be in my own bed.”

“Fair enough. I think you may have wasted your gas coming out here.”

“I got a free meal out of it.”

Scully was mentally panicking. This was not going anyway she had planned. She did not feel any better about the situation. More than anything, she needed to run. Mulder reached for her hand again, and for the second time that night, he grounded her and brought her racing thoughts back to a standstill. “Scully, just stay the night. I won’t bite and you would ease my fears.”

“Mulder, I'm fine.”

“I know you are but I’m not. I worry about you, Scully.”

After a moment’s consideration, she gave into Mulder’s request. Not for her sake of course, but for him. She did remember Missy confiding how much her abduction almost destroyed him. “Okay, Mulder,” she relented. She held up a finger conditionally. “But only for tonight.”

“You got it, Scully.”

He had that boyish smile on his face and nodded towards her. “I don’t suppose you would mind if I run out to my car to grab my overnight bag?”

“Since when did you start carrying an overnight bag with you?”

“When you started to call me at odd hours to travel halfway across the country.” Something flashed in his eyes. “It wasn’t meant as an insult,” she added hastily.

“I know, Scully,” he said softly. “I’ll go make up the bed for you.”

She collected her shoes to grab her bag out of her car before taking the elevator back up to his apartment. In the back of her mind, since she had arrived at Mulder’s apartment, the entire ordeal felt off. She thought driving over Mulder’s apartment would ease some of her own worries and doubt but this entire situation was spiraling out of control. She did not know if she felt comfortable with that at all.

She turned the doorknob to find the door in Mulder’s living room open. She heard him moving about the rarely sed room. “I hope you don’t mind the clutter,” he called. Scully stood in the doorway and watched him. “Sheets are clean. The bathroom’s through there.” He gestured at the lit doorway opposite of him. “Can you think of anything else?”

“No, I don’t think so, Mulder. I can still go home and get out of your hair.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Scully. If it makes you feel better, I won’t say anything else about the matter.”

He adjusted the quilt on the bed and gave her one last smile. “Goodnight, Scully. And I’m glad you decided to stay.”

She bit her lip as he shut the door behind him. Scully suddenly felt trapped and at odds with the war of doubt that had been brewing in her head. Hell, that was the whole reason why she had made the trek to Alexandria to begin with. Now, here she was, a prisoner in Mulder’s rarely used bedroom. She could make a run for it and go back to Georgetown, but she was tired. Scully decided that she would likely have trouble sleeping even in her own bed and decided to spend the night and try and make the best of a crappy situation.

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

The second time Scully woke up, she was disoriented and it took a moment for her to gain her bearings. The dimly lit alarm clock revealed it was 3:14 a.m. The unfamiliar bed felt foreign and she could not get comfortable. She tossed and turned before giving up and turning on the lamp. Boxes upon boxes surrounded her and in the dim light, she caught words like textbooks, photos, Samantha, and research. She shifted her attention and saw a dim light coming from the door that separated the bedroom and living room. She couldn’t hear the tv.

With curiosity biting at her, she got out a foreign bed and creaked the bedroom door open. Scully shivered and grabbed a spare blanket off the bed to wrap around her shoulders. She found Mulder wide awake lying on his couch, staring at some fixed point within his fish tank. The mollies swam back and forth and he sighed. “Am I keeping you up, Scully?”

“No,” she answered softly. “I just woke up. You know I have trouble sleeping in different beds sometimes.”

Mulder pushed himself up and patted the leather couch beside him invitingly. “Come sit with me.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already up, Scully.” He gave her a tired smile. “I can turn on a light or something.”

“No, this is fine.” She sat gingerly on the couch next to him. “I just have been having trouble sleeping since this entire ordeal. That’s why I tried to call earlier tonight. And why I came here.” She shrugged and Mulder tugged at the blanket fondly. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he chuckled. “I remember having the same problem after Modell.”

“What problem?”

“The lack of sleep.” He crossed his legs and rested them on the coffee table. “Well, worse than usual. I kept seeing the gun and your face. More than anything it was your eyes, Scully that always woke me up.”

“My eyes?”

He nodded and glanced at her. “It is what you mentioned yourself. Betrayal of trust. I just remember the pain in your eyes.” Mulder sighed. “I know that this...little crusade of mine has cost us both.”

Scully maneuvered the blanket around her shoulders and cast it over both of them. Mulder smiled gratefully in the dim light. She brought her knees to her chest and rested her head against her bicep. “I know,” she murmured.

“I should’ve have protected you better,” he confessed softly. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “The night on Skyline Mountain. The light. You were gone.”

“But I came back.”

“Because they decided they could bring you back to prove a point.”

“Mulder,” she whispered, “I’m not Samantha.”

“I know,” he replied. “You Scully. My Scully.” The way he repeated her surname sounded like an endearment. “But still...I can’t help but think that your sister would be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

The silence was deafening.

“Missy said everything happens for a reason, Mulder. One Christmas, when I was still in medical school, she came home. We went to Old Town Alexandria. Not too far from here. We had a girls' night. I was drunk. She was drunk. We both decided to do palm readings from this little place on the second story off King Street next to a tobacco shop.”

He chuckled. “You, Scully? A palm reading?”

“It was her idea and I was too drunk to disprove it.” Mulder chuckled again. “What?”

“Next time we discuss one of my theories, I’ll bring the whiskey.”

She smiled and moved closer to him to the point they were almost touching. “Missy went first,” she continued, ignoring his loaded comment, “and the fortune she had, well, it was a good thing we were both drunk.”

“What was her fortune?”

“Missy was told she would die young. The fortune-teller specifically said 33 years old.”

“Scully…”

She held up a finger. “But, in the afterlife, she would do her most beneficial work.”

Mulder recalled the night he thought about taking his own life during Scully’s abduction and it was Melissa Scully that had interrupted that horrible attempt. But it was her that made him believe Scully was still there, even if she was in a coma.

“Do you think she is watching over you now?” he whispered.

“I like to think so,” Scully replied. “But what was ironic was my own fortune that strikes a chord...well, at the time.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were both drunk that night and I haven’t actually thought of it until now.”

“What about it?” He moved so he could face her. After a moment, he took her hand and lounged backward. She fought him initially but relented after a few minutes. It was much cozier than just sitting on the couch. “Just relax.”

“This is very unprofessional.”

“Since when is anything we did professional?”

Mulder’s hand drifted to the small of her bag and she relaxed. His fingertips grazed her bare skin giving her shivers. He pulled the blanket up around them. She relaxed. “Tell me what your fortune was?”

“I would meet my other half,” she confessed after a long moment.

“Really?”

“Quit making fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

Scully nuzzled his cotton shirt and breathed deeply. The familiar scent of whatever was ‘Mulder’ wafted through her nose. As she reflected on the fortune she had been told, at the time, she thought it meant Daniel but now, after going through the past few years, and Missy’s prodding. Maybe it meant someone else.

“But yeah. False promises on soulmates.”

“I wouldn’t call it a false promise or false fortunes.” He moved a stray piece of hair out of her face. “Maybe you just haven’t met him yet.”

“Maybe.”

His fingers drifted up under her top towards the rest of her back. “It was the trust,” she whispered. He was distracting her. She couldn’t collect her thoughts. “I feel like, after everything, I can only trust you because you know. You understand. I call you first. Then my mother. Or my brothers.”

“So when you thought I betrayed you, you went to the next place?”

“My mother’s.”

Mulder rested his forehead against hers. “You know that I would never do anything to you, Scully. Right?”

“I know, Mulder.”

She licked her lips and kissed him before she could stop herself. Mulder broke away, smiled, and attacked with renewed vigor. Words were lost between them as useless couch cushions were pushed off and Scully gained leverage to straddle his waist. Wait. No. So many no’s flashed through her head but she could not stop herself. It was an urge to feel safe, to trust, and to know that someone was there for her. Mulder was that person. But she felt the rising pressure between her legs that came from Mulder.

“We shouldn’t,” she warned.

“I know,” he breathed.

“So much could go wrong.”

“I know.”

But neither one of them made an effort to stop themselves. “Scully, we can go a step further or we can stop this. I don’t want it to stop. Tell me what you want?”

She slid slowly off his hips and gathered the blanket. “I should, uh, go back to bed. I’m sorry for what just happened.”

“Scully…” he called.

She disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door, her last barrier to keep her from losing herself control. After the most recent episode with fearing Mulder’s betrayal and being prepared to shoot him in the face. But to her utter horror, Mulder was trailing her. The door opened with a bang and she jumped. “Jesus, Mulder.”

“Please, hear me out. Is it something I did?”

“No,” she breathed. “We just can’t, Mulder. I had a moment, that is all.”

“A moment,” he repeated. “That wasn’t a moment. You can trust me, Scully. I promise I won’t betray you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She brought the blanket around her shoulders instinctively like a shield. Childhood memories of distrust flashed in her head, one of the reasons why she became so private of a person as an adult. But here he was, invading her personal space just like he did the first day they met. He cupped her cheek. Her eyes closed as he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Sometimes, I don’t know who to trust but I know, deep down, I always can trust you.”

“You can trust me now.”

Scully nodded into his hand. Mulder took that as a sign and gently leaned forward to kiss her soundly. The kiss sent electricity through every part of her body and unconsciously, she grasped both of his hands and held on tightly. Mulder deepened the kiss. At that moment, they were both lost. It was something about being able to trust someone with your entirety, body, mind, and soul, and not have to worry about any fears or repercussions. Just because you knew. You trusted them. The blanket fell from her shoulders. Mulder’s warm hands crept under her shirt and she shivered. They were so close to one another.

“Scully, please.” He sounded like he was begging. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

She closed her eyes, bit her lip, and give him the slightest nod. He was reverent in his movements as he let his fingers trail down her back slowly as if memorizing her. She bowed her head forward and willed herself to move, to do something. Finally, she regained control of her hands and gently peeled off his tee-shirt. She saw the puckered scar on his shoulder that still looked fresh despite it being over a year old. He smiled slightly and kissed her tenderly. The first time Scully had let herself imagine this scenario, she imagined he would be much more vigorous in his efforts, almost like one of his films. But so fair, he kept surprising her.

“I know,” she whispered.

She walked them backwards until the back of her knees met the mattress. “It’s been a while,” she whispered.

“Same here.”

Scully felt all sorts of insecurity which she thought buried long ago bubble up. As if sensing those insecurities, he kissed her brow encouragingly and she relented. She pulled off her top in one movement and he swallowed hungrily. The small bulge earlier took on a new life.

“I know I’m not like…”

“You’re perfect,” he breathed.

She was tired of fighting and without hesitation, she lunged forward to kiss him, and then guide him back onto the bed. Like explorers charting the unknown lands, they began their newest adventure. He left a trail of kisses like breadcrumbs down her shoulder blades and down the valley of her breasts. She shivered at the soft touches from his lips. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she murmured.

She leaned back into the pillows taking him with her. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Scully,” he breathed. He took a moment to meet her gaze. “I want you to trust me. I want to be the only one that you trust. More than friends.”

“I remember, Mulder.” She played with his hair. “But that was then, this is now. Things have changed between us.”

“That little small town wasn’t that long ago,” he countered.

He was intent on just lazily kissing her right now. She didn’t seem to mind. “But again, neither one of us was in our right mind.”

He paused and rolled to the side so he could watch her. “The planets hadn’t aligned properly.”

“Not then anyways.”

Mulder propped his head upon his left arm so he could watch her. Despite the wall of boxes in the unused bedroom, he had left the sole window free and clear. The blinds were half open and she could see the streetlights and shadows dance across his face. “I know you said you were ashamed during your little episode but you shouldn’t be.”

“How weren’t you affected by it?”

His hand traced down her smooth abdomen in thought and played with the elastic of her pajama pants. “Hmm? Oh. I’m red-green colorblind and according to the Gunmen, it was something like that causing it.” He saw her raised eyebrow. “In one eye. A childhood accident or something?” He switched winking at her with each eye. “My right eye is fine. My left eye...not so much.” He opened both eyes and smiled. “I can still tell you’re hair is red, not green, but it isn’t as vibrant with both eyes versus just my right eye. Now you blue eyes? Those stand out. Isn’t that funny how that is a thing?”

She chuckled. “I can think of any number of reasons how you might have become color blind in one eye, though extremely rare…” She sighed at the sensation as any rational thoughts escaped her as Mulder found her mons. “Jesus, it’s been too long.”

“Good vibrations,” Mulder sang off-key, “I’m picking up good vibrations.”

Scully laughed at Mulder’s horrible rendition of The Beach Boys before she was silenced by one of his kisses. His hand moved with an independent mind of its own as he experimented with a kiss or a slight tug on her earlobe. Each new sensation caused her to gasp and move under him or buck towards him. “Mulder, enough play.”

His fingers dipped into the ‘v’ of her thighs. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered.

They awkwardly peeled away the remains of their clothes and with unspoken communication, they sealed their union. It was quick, awkward, but all at the same time, unforgettable. Afterward, entangled together like a sailor’s knot, beneath the lightly used blankets, they lay together. It started to rain and Mulder nuzzled her neck and whispered. “You can trust me, Scully...if nothing else, we will always have each other.”

“We’ve been some dark roads,” she whispered into the night air. Mulder coiled around her. “I fear it’s only going to get worse.”

“Mmm.” He vibrated all around her and she tried to pull him closer. “While it may, you'll always have someone to trust.”

“Where does this leave us, Mulder?” she whispered.

“We’re good,” he whispered. “We’re fine. Nothing will change.”

“We just…”

He silenced her with another kiss and she melted against him. She was tired of being unable to trust anyone and the weight of their work felt crushing in moments like this. “We’re okay, Scully. We’re going to be okay.”

“Do you trust me?”

Scully breathed deeply and tried to memorize the moment. Mulder around her. The unused bedroom that had become their private sanctuary. The rain outside beating against the window. The streetlights and the wind moving their branches. He pulled the blankets around them.

“Yes,” Scully answered. “I trust you.”

#xfiles #xf fic #txf #txf fic #early msr #smutlite #msr #msr fic #wetwire #angst #fluff #maybe #i don't know #mulder #scully #mulder and suclly

97 notes · View notes

eldersnowboio · 4 years

Text

So this a apology to anyone I've effectively annoyed. First to kiing. I apologize for calling you a nunce without the proper evidence. Seeing how you do the same to vivze its actually kinda ironic and funny that I would do the same thing. But I do realize that calling someone a pedophile can be damaging if they aren't one. Also that one account racefaking. Is an account I had no idea ran Smear campaigns for attention. Also the only reason I was "stalking" the kiingcorobo tag was because I wanted to see if anyone else had the same experience that I did. Only one person kinda talked about it and that pissed me off more. Not to mention my friend also seemed to like this person so I felt utterly alone. So I lashed out. Now some things I still stand by and others I dont seeing how I made these posts at 4 in the morning. Heres what I still stand by. Kiing is a dickhead. In my eyes at least. I do disagree with a lot of what he says but I'm sure we can find ourselves agreeing on something but at the moment nothing. Again I dont stand by calling him a nunce or reblogging a post from a random person that had nothing to do with it. Again I'm sorry. Though some of the asks were entertaining fo respond to. Nice to wake up to that. Anyways that's all I have to say on the matter. I'd rather not talk about it again. Have a nice sunday everyone

3 notes · View notes

bewitchingwitch · 6 years

Text

Valentine’s Day Oneshot

Hope you like it and if no one said it to you today you are loved. And that you deserve all the world had to offer. Have a Happy Valentine’s Day my Darlings!

You and Newt has been together for only a couple of months but he had already fallen head over heels in love with you. As Valentine's Day was today he was panicking on what to get you.

He had promised himself that today would be perfect that he was going to sweep you off your feet make you feel like he felt every day with you. But alas he had no idea what to do. He was supposed to meet you back at your guys flat at 7.

He thought of the only rational thing to do. He decided to pay Jacob a visit for advice. He had scared Jacob half to death when he had apparated into his apartment during his morning breakfast . He was so distracted that he miscalculated his appartarion and landed on the dinning room table his shoe in Jacob’s cereal.

They had spent all day collecting various magazines titled what women want, and had been bouncing ideas off of each other for hours. It was already 4 in the afternoon. Jacob was tired out and was sitting on the couch in the living room.

Newt however paced around the room flipping through magazines. All of which promised to help him find the perfect gift. But so far none had. He nervously ran his hand through his mess of curls. “what to do, what to do.” Newt mumbled fo himself as Jacob drifted to sleep.

“Maybe I could take her out. No that’s too impersonal. What do you think Jacob?” Newt turned and saw Jacob was napping. “Jacob!”

“I’m up!” Jacob was startled awake and he sat up straighter.

“What do you think?”

“About what?”

“On never mind. Anyway what did you get Queenie?” Newt asked hoping that maybe it would help him think of something.

"Aw I got her the best thing. See she really wanted this pink fur coat from that fancy shop and I sold enough pastries this week to get it for her. Oh she's gonna love it." Jacob smiled tenderly, in an excited voice he continued. "And I'm taking her to this great restaurant where I arranged for a bouquet of red roses to be waiting for her."

"That’s perfect for Queenie, she’s gonna love it Jacob." Newt was happy for his friend but he still needed to figure out what to get you. “You know just what to do and how to make her happy meanwhile I have no idea what to do and I just want to make this day special and...”

“Woah woah Newt breath.” Newt was spiraling. “Just breath.”

Newt took a deep breath his voice still shaky. “What could I possible get her that will be as wonderful as she is?”

"Well there's chocolates, flowers, jewelry..."

"I know but nothing seems good enough."

Jacob sat back in his chair his head resting in his hands. Before he sat forward a sheepish smile on his face.” Well I mean you could always give her yourself?"

"What?"

Jacob smiled awkwardly. "You know.." Newt starred at him blanking not connecting the dots. "Come on Newt don't make me explain it."

Then it hit him what Jacob was implying. "Oh." He blushed at the thought. Although he loved you he didn't know if you wanted him in that way. Even though he did he found his mind drifting to the idea every once in a while when you wore something where the neckline went real low, of the slit in your dress went up too high. “No. No. I’m not even good enough of a gift to give her.”

“Newt you are an amazing guy I think you’d be the perfect gift to give her.” Newt thought about it for a moment, tapping his foot anxiously. “I mean you have done it before right?" Jacobs voice interrupted.

“um well um n-no I um haven’t actually.” Newt’s face flushed at his inexperience.

“Oh well I mean that could be it. It would be something special.”

“I suppose.” Newt still didn’t think it would be enough. “But will you please come and help me set up a fancy dinner at our flat before you have to leave.”

“Yes of course.”

Newt had an idea, he hoped that it would be special enough.

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

You had asked to leave early from your work so you could get ready. Towards the end of the day Newt has sent you a message to wear something nice. You had decided on a red dress that stopped mid calf with black heels. Simple yet classy.

You arrived home and opened the door to see Newt standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. You laughed in surprise at the scene. The entire room was covered in bouquets of various flowers. The majority were Roses and sunflowers your favorite flower combination. Petals fell from the roof under some enchantment Newt has set up.

Various muggle decorations covered the walls banners with cute one liners and lace hearts. There were paper heart chains which looked like Newt had hand made them himself. The record player was playing soft music.

You stepped into the house. “Newt What is all of this?”

“I just wanted to give you a special Valentine’s Day. Something that would make you feel as wonderful as you make me feel everyday I’m with you.” You smiled at him as he reached out his hand and you took it.

He led you into the dinning room. There was something cooking the stove that smelled ravishing. “I-I tried to cook for us.” He had set the table nicely. Rose petals fell onto the plate and Newt scrambled to stop the enchantment. He brushed the flowers off of the table and pulled out your chair for you to sit.

You stopped him and he looked panicked he was afraid this was your way of rejecting him. “I’m sorry (y/n).”

You looked at him confused. “What are you sorry for?”

“It’s just I know it’s not enough. I spent all day with Jacob trying to figure out what to get you but this was the best I could think of and I-“ He rambled on but you stopped him.

“Newt, What are you taking about? This is amazing!”

“It is?”

“Yes!” You looped your arms around his neck pulling him close. He moved his hands to your waist. “The fact that you spent so much time worrying just shows me how much you love me. And I couldn’t ask for anything more. Merlin I didn’t even want anything.”

“You didn’t?” You we’re swaying lightly to the music, he twirled you gently before pulling you close again.

“No being with you is all the only gift I need. You mean the world to me and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.” You kissed him on the cheek.

Newt couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you. “Merlin I love you so much.” He leaned in and sealed the space between you. He pulled you closer desperate to have you pressed up against him. His lips moved with yours he loved the way you tasted, like the sweetest fruit. The way you moved in sync made him feel like you were made for him.

You pulled away smiling at him as he returned it before resting your head on his chest. Complete content with him. “I-I have one m-more gift.”

“Hmm.” You hummed in response as you looked up at him in surprise. He moved his face into your neck and began kissing the sweet spot right below you ear. Peppering kisses all the way down to your collar bone as you let out a small moan.

He looked back up at you his bright green eyes laced with lust. You licked you lips. “Oh.” Was all you could muster out. He guided you to the bedroom as you giggled, giddy at the idea of what you were doing to do.

You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have someone like Newt. Someone who cared so much for you and wanted the best for you. He held the key to your heart as you held his. He kissed you one again this time rougher before entering the bedroom. And as the door shut behind you you knew that this would be the man that you could one day marry.

Another little gift I have for y’all this that I made a Constellations Spodify playlist. I’ll post the link desperately because @mchllbrtls notified me that it won’t show in the tags with the link on here. Hope you guys like it and be sure to send me song recommendation! Happy Valentine’s Day!

Taglist: @hearteyesmotherclucker @c8h10n4o2-geek @martarosado17@nanajaeminniee @moisoverennyi-thestarlessone @profangirllex @gaenahelleborus @melodramaticmelon2118 @michellekstr @nctyong-xo @preppy-by-the-c @sweetlyshinylady @emo-plaidin @dreacantsleep @theetherealbloom @lily2089 @mywckdmind @barbarachern @imbiandiwanttocry @ollyoxenfrees @newtslatte @pettylady @februarycalum @justanotherenglisheducationmajor @feelthefeelingsinsideyou @ombriescent @ztinge @liloefuru @reindeerdaisies @babywizardoll @heckin-kat @thewitchmadness @bunnie-kookie @the-fandom-life-forever @missanonyma

129 notes · View notes

scully-eats-sushi · 6 years

Text

Shaken: A Pre-X-Files Fic

Author: scully-eats-sushi

Rating: PG (but please don’t let that stop you from reading!)

A/N: I was inspired to write this by a request from @cryptidneet, referencing this post here, about a deleted scene from Demons (4x23): https://dunhamhairograpy.tumblr.com/post/168263757382/deleted-scene-demons-mrs-mulder-and-scully-that. Also tagging @today-in-fic. This is a little bit on the sadder side. Angst is a really hard one for me to write, apparently.

Trigger warning (no pun intended) for epilepsy/seizure disorder.

i. August 1970.

"Fox, can you please help me build this? Fox?" Samantha glanced over at her older brother from her spot on the carpet, a pile of legos at her feet. He was ignoring her again. She poked him on the arm. "Fox! Please help me! Can you stop watching T.V. right now?...Fox! You always do this!" she huffed. The five-year-old sighed, hauling herself up onto her feet. She stormed off, walking through the kitchen and dining room before she found her mother in the salon, reading a ladies' magazine and sipping something that was light green in color and had ice cubes in it.

"Mommy, Fox is ignoring me again. He won't help me. And I asked nicely."

Without glancing up from her magazine, Teena Mulder replied, "Samantha, darling, sometimes boys can be like that. Especially with their little sisters." Or their wives. "Why don't you go outside and play instead?"

With a sad look on her face, Samantha replied, "But Mommy, I already played outside with Katherine today. I want to build the lego castle that I saw in that picture. I know I could do it with some help."

Trying to keep a look of annoyance off her face, her mother glanced up at her daughter. "So try asking Fox again. Or just do your best by yourself."

Dejected, Samantha returned to the family room. At hearing her footsteps, her brother looked up at her.

"Hey, Twerp. Where ya been?"

"Fox, I asked you to help me with my legos and you didn't say anything. You just stared at the T.V."

"No, you didn't, Sam. I didn't hear you say anything like that."

"Fo-ox, yes I did. Don't lie! Can you help me with that castle, please?”

"Okay, okay, fine, Squirt," he grumbled. Little sisters were so annoying. "Show me the picture." Sensing his disdain, she shot him a glare. But they silently agreed on a truce and both turned to their task. The lego castle was finished before they were called for dinner. ii. March 1972.

Samantha sat chatting with her mother at dinner while her father, seated at the other end of the table, was occupied speaking to a tall man she had never seen before. She glanced to her right at the man, but quickly looked back toward her mother. She knew only that she did not like that man very much. There was something about his eyes and his mouth that made him look mean--no, sinister. She had just learned that word, and it seemed to fit him. Besides, he stunk like too many yucky cigarettes. Her father only really smoked cigars sometimes so he usually didn't smell like that man who was over for dinner.

Samantha suddenly noticed that Fox was no longer speaking. He was currently staring at nothing as far as she could tell. She watched him, wondering why he was so quiet. He was usually very talkative, especially when there were other adults at the table. Sometimes he was so curious that it upset their father.

Her mother interrupted the little girl's thoughts. "Bill, can I have the casserole, please?" asked Teena Mulder.

Without looking up from his conversation, Bill Mulder picked up the casserole dish and held it out for his son to take. "Fox, pass this to your mother."

When there was no response and the dish hadn't been taken from his hand, Bill turned to his son. "Fox. Fox! Look at me, boy!"

By now all attention was on Fox, who sat motionless.

Teena glanced back toward the other side of the table, her eyes meeting those of the man seated there. She nervously bit her lip, then looked at her husband.

"Maybe there's something wrong with him, Bill."

"There's nothing wrong with the boy, Teena. He's not paying attention. His teacher called to say that he has been staring off into space when he should be listening to her, didn't she?"

Samantha's attention returned to the strange man as he silently watched Fox.

She noticed that he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and brought it to his lips before he seemed to decide not to light it at the table. iii. June 1973.

A scream echoed through the house. Teena Mulder hurried out of her bedroom and down the stairs to the family room, where she had earlier left her children reading.

"Mommy, Mommy, Fox fell down. Look at him!"

Teena gasped at the sight of her son on the floor. His arms and legs were shaking and his eyes were blinking rapidly. "Fox, oh my baby. Fox, do you hear me?" She held him down, continuing to yell his name loudly. There was no response. Noticing the blood dripping down from the corner of his mouth, she screamed, "Samantha, call 911!"

Samantha ran to grab the phone off the kitchen wall and dialed. In her fear, she didn't remember what she told the woman on the phone. iv. May 1997.

Mulder sat behind his desk, looking down at his file. He had only just returned to work. He felt her eyes on him, and looked up at his partner.

"What is it, Scully?" he asked gently.

"Mulder," she sighed. "When I spoke with your mother, she mentioned that you had had seizures as a child. Petit mal, what we call 'absence seizures' now. That's not in your medical file. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"My parents and I didn't know I was having them until I actually had my first grand mal seizure and I was taken to the hospital. That was when my mother learned that I had been having other symptoms. I guess my mother didn't want to tell you that the seizures progressed. It's probably embarrassing to her."

Scully heard the note of irony and sarcasm in his voice.

"Anyway, it was getting worse that last year before...Sam." He looked up at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. "They never came back, later. So I never said anything. It's not relevant."

He looked up to see the sad look in her eyes. He couldn't take her pity and didn't want her sympathy right now.

"Forget it, Scully. It's over." He looked up at her, the corner of his mouth turned up in a small, sad smile. "How are you feeling?"

v. January 2018.

Mulder helped Scully into her apartment, following her closely as she walked gingerly.

"Do you need me to stay with you, Scully? Do you think that there's any danger for you? More seizures?"

The care in his eyes, in his voice, broke her. She turned into him and he held her while she cried.

"I guess now we have something else in common, Mulder. I now know what it feels like after having a seizure."

He kissed the top of her head. "Yes, but I was never in a car accident after one, Scully," he said, with a touch of dark humor. She let out a small laugh through her tears.

"Will you stay here tonight?"

"Of course I will," he responded. There was never any question. --

Additional author's notes (sorry, it's long): I don't know if the "extra-canon" idea of Mulder having epilepsy as a child has been explored before in fanfic; I haven't seen it before. In the original script for Demons, Mrs. Mulder mentions in an off-hand way to Scully that he had "petit mal seizures" as a child. Today, these are referred to as "absence seizures" and are characterized by symptoms such as staring off into space, subtle uncontrolled movements, and temporary loss of awareness/consciousness. I also chose to describe that young Mulder progressed to having "tonic-clonic seizures" (what was previously referred to as "grand mal seizures"). This is the type of epilepsy usually pictured when people think of seizures: convulsions, uncontrolled seizing up of the limbs, falling if they're upright, complete loss of consciousness followed by periods of sleep or lethargy, unconscious biting down on the ends of one's tongue leading to blood dribbling out of the mouth. I had to do a little bit of research on this topic, and I tried to make the family reaction realistic for the early 1970s, and for what we know of the Mulders. Nowadays, in many cases epilepsy can be controlled with medication, and many people like marijuana for epilepsy, of course.

Note: I wrote that Teena Mulder held her son down. Please do not hold anyone down if they're having a seizure. Just make sure there is no immediate danger around them. If possible, move items away from them and do not move the victim. Make sure they don't fall into something, but aside from that, keep physical distance.

Why Mulder stopped having seizures after age 12 (again, that came from the original script) is an interesting thought to ponder... Sometimes that can just happen, but how much do we believe in coincidence?

The idea from Cryptidneet for this little story spoke to me, probably because (as a few of you know) one of my kids is epileptic and he has had a few instances of tonic-clonic seizure clusters, consisting of several long seizures over a period of a few hours, over the last 3.5 years. His epilepsy is generally well controlled on medication. However, his last set of seizures was in early June, and his doctor determined the dosage he had been on was too low. It happened on the eve of what would have been our black belt test, which made the experience doubly emotional and painful, not least because he's also autistic and he (we both) felt the disappointment very deeply for a long time. (The black belt test is now scheduled for one month from now, in early September.) I will never forget the kindness of a few friends who kept me virtual company while I was with him in the hospital and not able to speak with my husband, who was 3000 miles away and didn't know what was happening at the time.

@cryptidneet, I don’t know if this is at all what you were looking for. But I hope you like it, even though I’m by far not one of the best authors in this fandom.

P.S. I had another prompt from another lovely friend and I'm sorry that the writing for that just hasn't come to me yet! I will try my best to get my head around it at some point in the foreseeable future.

#my writing #my fic #TW: epilepsy #early Fox Mulder #angst #pre-TXF #original script #Demons #deleted scene #I don't know if this is what you wanted #but I hope you like it #Cryptidneet #prompt #also post-episode #for MSIII #I guess

91 notes · View notes

kaoruyogi · 6 years

Text

C’est Si Bon

I saw this post yesterday about a 1950′s AU Cullen, and this morning I woke up with the full story in my head. So here it is! It’s a little long, so I put part of it under a cut for the sake of people’s dashes.

For @lyrium-blossom , @kagetsukai , @mssaboteur , @ladydragon1316 , @veritasrose, @laraslandlockedblues , and anyone else who’s interested!

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x Belle Dolan (1950′s AU one shot)

Rating: T for Teen

Today would be the day. Cullen decided it as he rose from his old bed in his old room in his parents’ old house. Today would be the day he ventured out. He had been outside since coming back, but he also had not. He had yet to journey beyond the corner three houses down.

Fear kept him at home those six months. It was not a rational fear, he decided about two months into his self-imposed confinement. But it was fear, nonetheless.

He ran his fingers through his hair and puffed out a humorless laugh at himself. He was what they called a “POW.” Pee-Oh-Doubleyou. Prisoner of war. Captured and kept alive. Alive as his enemy saw fit to keep him. As it happened, they chose not to keep him very alive. They locked him away, fed him food they told him over and over was poisoned until he was so starved he ate it anyway because even death would be better than the void in his gut, tortured him, tortured his platoon, killed them one by one.

His puff of a dead laugh was not aimed at all that, but at the irony of his present condition. All he could think of when he was over there was his freedom. Now he had it, and all he was doing with it was locking himself up afresh. Self-inflicted isolation.

So, today would be the day. Cullen dressed simply, comfortably. White cotton tee shirt, tired blue jeans, black and white sneakers—the left one had a smudge on it he reminded himself to clean later—and his black leather jacket. The jacket would not have been his first choice for outerwear before he went over there, but now it helped. His brother gave it to him when he got back. Said it was for luck. Cullen hadn’t the faintest idea how a jacket could be lucky, but then he still kept at least one of his dog tags on his person at all times. So he took the jacket, and today he wore it.

He left his room. The first step. His mabari, Charles, followed him through the house. Cullen was the only person in that house who called the dog by his proper name. All his siblings insisted on calling him Charlie. Cullen found it quite irksome. He petted Charles on the head twice.

Cullen gave himself a onceover in the bathroom mirror before he left the house. His mother always told him he was such a handsome boy, and he might once have been. But a scar—a remnant of the dozens or hundreds or thousands of beatings he suffered—now marred his face. It rose from his upper lip to his cheekbone, pink and shiny and horrible. He did not like the man staring back at him. He put a hand over the glass before he walked away.

He brought Charles with him when he left. The poor mabari had not been on a proper walk in ages, and it was as good an excuse as any to have him at Cullen’s side. The large gray dog rarely left Cullen’s side, as it happened. It gave him great comfort to have Charles with him as he walked, like taking a piece of home with him into a vast and terrifying wilderness of concrete and brick and people.

Cullen walked past the corner. He walked down the street. He nodded his greeting to an elderly neighbor as she watered her begonias. He approached Main Street. He gripped Charles’s leash tight in his fist, doing his best to ignore the onslaught of noise around him. Screaming children. Metal roller skate wheels grinding on cement. The rumble of the occasional passing Cadillac.

To his surprise, he arrived on Main Street without incident. He watched Charles watch their surroundings, and it put him a touch more at ease knowing someone had his back. Together they passed Adan’s Pharmacy. Then they passed Sims Grocers, Cabot’s Malts N’More, two beauty salons, the cinema, and the library. They made it all the way to town hall without a word or glance from anyone.

Cullen thought he had done quite enough for today. He and Charles turned around to head home the same way they came, feeling rather accomplished they had come so far. Even Charles held his head a little higher.

As they approached the library, the front door opened. A young woman, about his age, exited the building. She wore a dress the color of a robin’s egg covered in tiny white dots, and it swayed wide around her pale calves as she walked. Her slightly curved nose was buried in an open book, and her red hair was gathered into a ponytail, forming a single fat curl that brushed her collar. He could not see her entire face, but he would know her anywhere.

Belle. She was the girl he grew up admiring. As children, they went to the nearby lake with their classmates to swim in the summers. He used to watch her red hair in the sun as it dried into wild but gentle curls and listen to her boisterous laugh. In high school, he walked her home on Thursdays. It was out of his way by several blocks, but he never said a word about that. He listened to her talk about all the magnificent things she wanted to do with her life, and he did his best to bring out her boisterous laugh for himself. She smiled at him once while she sang her solo in the school choir. She embraced him once after his parents died. She kissed him once in the dark after their last high school dance. He left the smudge of her too-bright lipstick on his mouth until the next morning.

Cullen’s heart tightened in his chest as she approached him. He had not seen her since before he shipped out to basic training. What if she grimaced when she saw him? What if she disliked the man he had become? What if he was so broken and wrong she did not recognize him at all?

But all those questions proved pointless. Belle’s attention was so rapt on the contents of her book, she walked right past him. He heard her humming while she went. “C’est Si Bon,” by Eartha Kitt. His sister, Mia, played the tune once when her boyfriend, Marcus, came over for dinner. Cullen was not one for anything Orlesian, but he liked the song well enough.

Against his better judgment, Cullen called after her. “Belle,” he said once at too low a volume. When she did not turn, he said it again, much louder.

Belle gasped hard, and her book tumbled from her hands onto the sidewalk. Guilt filled Cullen’s gut at the sight. She whirled around with a blend of shock and ire on her face. It melted away the moment she laid her hazel eyes on him. She smiled. His heart leapt into his throat.

“Cullen,” she said, and she rushed back toward him, leaving her book on the sidewalk. “I’m so happy to see you!”

“I-It’s good to see you too, Belle,” he said. He felt foolish under her gaze. It was a silly notion to call out to her like that. He had no idea what to say to her.

“It’s been a long time. You look well.” She meant it. He did not expect her to mean it.

Before he could reply, she cast her eyes down and let out a happy, “Charles!” Cullen had forgotten she was the only other person that called the mabari by his proper name. Belle knelt down to pet the dog. “It’s been much too long since I’ve seen your handsome face, Charles.” Charles grunted and licked her hand, and she only just managed to stop him licking her face as well.

“You look very well, too,” said Cullen as she stood.

“Thank you.” She paused for three seconds too long, her eyes wandering over his face. They were beautiful eyes. “I missed you, you know,” she finally said. “You never told me when you were shipping out. I would’ve come to see you off. Given you something for good luck or…something.”

“Ah, yes, I—” His free hand reached up to rub the back of his neck. An old habit. “I’m sorry. At the time, I didn’t think it was much to fuss over. I thought I…I thought I would be back sooner.”

Belle smiled again, exposing the wide pointed canines she had ever since her baby teeth fell out. “It’s alright. I probably would have cried all over you anyway. Turned into a damn sobbing mess and not let you get on the bus. So it was probably for the best.” She was the first non-adult he ever heard curse when they were young. She had not changed a bit.

“I missed you, too,” said Cullen before he could stop the words leaving his mouth. Surely, she would think him too forward now. She would leave, and he would never see her again but for the occasional casual coincidence.

But she laughed. She laughed her boisterous laugh, and something fluttered in his chest. “Well, good! I’m glad to know my missing wasn’t one-sided.” She laid an absent pat on Charles’s ribs. He panted happily at the loud thump it made. “Let me buy you a malt or a Coke or something,” she said after a moment. “Cabot still likes me, and he’ll let me take a couple of his glasses to the park or something so we can catch up. If you’re up for it, that is.”

“That won’t be necessary. I can pay fo—”

“Hooey. I’m buying. To make up for the good luck gift I never got to give you. I won’t hear another word about it except ‘yes,’ and ‘thank you, oh wonderful, kind, fabulous Belle.’” She lifted her chin with her superior little grin.

Cullen chuckled. He had not laughed much lately. “Alright,” he said. “Yes. Thank you, oh wonderful, kind, fabulous Belle.”

“Ha!” She clapped once. “Good! Oh.” She turned and ran two short steps to recover her library book, and she dusted it off on her two short steps back. She hooked her arm over his crooked elbow, smiled up at him, and said, “Shall we?”

“Of course,” he said, and the three of them began their walk together.

Today would be the day.

*****

#i couldn't help myself #no one asked me #but here you go #cullen #cullen rutherford #commander cullen #cullen x belle #belle dolan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fanfic #50's au

36 notes · View notes

victory-in-the-skye · 6 years

Photo

We’re Inevitable - Archive of our Own

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Newsies - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly Characters: Jack Kelly, David Jacobs, Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Les Jacobs, Crutchie | Crutchy (Newsies), Racetrack Higgins, Joseph Pulitzer Additional Tags: Genderbending, fem!Jack, Rule 63, Novelization, sort of, Eventual Romance, Friendship, Fluff Summary:

Jacqueline “Jack” Kelly, leader of the Lower Manhattan newsies, must protect her newsies and fight back against the increased price of papers all while juggling hiding her secret and attempting to get closer to the new guy.

Novelization of Newsies Live (2017) - sort of.

Chapter 1 underneath!

Jack grabbed her newspapers and bag, slinging it over her shoulder before stuffing the papers into it. She headed towards the wagon, sitting on one of the stacks of newspapers as she waited for the others to finish getting ready for the day. She eyed the line of newsies, spotting Crutchie as he was focused on the boys in front of him and she felt safe enough to yawn and stretch without her closest friend noticing.

She would never blame him for waking her up earlier than expected and she didn’t want him to feel guilty if ever he did spot her looking tired. No, she’d be the one feeling guilty at the end of all that…

Thankfully she had finished stretching by the tim Crutchie joined her at the wagon and she ruffled his hat once he took a seat next to her.

“Hey, Jack, looks like we’s gots some new newsies,” remarked Crutchie, motioning towards the line with a tilt of his head.

New newsies? Wondered Jack, scanning the line. It had been a couple of weeks since they had gotten new blood. They –

She stopped suddenly upon seeing the two new comers. The little boy was easy to spot being the youngest newsie in the square. The other one though had Jack awestruck.

She had grown up around boys and young men, had seen all shapes, sizes, statures but none of them had made her react like she was now.

And she had no idea of what to do with that knowledge.

How could she do anything?

“Hey, you only gave me 19,” stated the older of the two newcomers, snapping Jack out of her confusing thoughts.

She was on her feet in an instant, nearly racing towards the boy and, to avoid staring too long at his face and those eyes, she snatched the papers from his hands. She counted the newspapers as her mind began working out a plan to…

If she couldn’t act on these new feelings, she was at least going to spend time with the new boy. She understood that much from her body’s reaction.

That, and she also really did want to spend time with him.

“Weasel, the new kid’s right,” stated Jack turning around to face Wiesel and the Delancey brothers. “Well, it’s probably just an honest mistake seeing as Oscar can’t cunt to twenty with his shoes on.”

She knew that last part was an easy shot towards Oscar but, after all the crap her newsies had to take from the brothers, she was always generous with her insults. It did provide some entertainment to her newsies as a bonus.

She handed the 19 papers to the new boy before heading back to Wiesel’s coffer, ready to put her plan into action.

“And get 50 more papes for the new guy,” she stated, putting down 25 cents.

“I don’t want any more papes,” he cut in quickly and Jack could clearly picture her plan crumbling to pieces before her eyes.

This could have gone better.

Plan B then.

“What type of newsie don’t want more papes?” she wondered out loud.

“We’re no charity case,” he stated quickly, on the defense. “We don’t even know you.” He motioned to the younger boy behind him to follow but the kid didn’t.

Instead, the boy pointed towards Jack and said, “That’s Jack Kelly! I heard he rode a carriage with the Governor!”

“Yeah!” agreed Crutchie. “He escaped the Refuge in the backseat with him!”

Thanks Crutchie and kid, thought Jack, hiding her small smile behind her hand as she rubbed her nose. Maybe hearing about her exploits will help her chances with the new guy. Heck, she knew she’d be impressed.

The only downside to her entire plan on spending more time with the new guy was that every newsie in New York knew her as Jack Kelly.

Not one knew her as Jacqueline Kelly, the 17 year old girl masquerading as a boy. She really only had herself to blame considering she never contradicted any newsie, promoted the idea of Jack being a guy, had her hair short since she was 6 and quite honestly feared ever being a homeless girl in the streets of New York.

She’d have to figure out what to do about that tiny detail of her gender once she at least got the new guy to like her.

“And what was the governor doing at a juvenile jail anyway?” wondered said guy.

“He wanted to show that he cared,” replied Jack. “And while he was snapping picture, I got my butt into the backseat and off we rode together.”

The younger boy climbed up the back of the wagon, standing next to Crutchie. “That’s so cool! My name’s Les and that’s my brother, David.”

Plan C just formed in Jack’s head.

“Pleasure, Davey.” Jack even gave him a smile and a wink before returning her attention to Les. “How old are you, kid?”

“I’m 10, almost.”

Jack could work with that. “Well, if anyone asks, you’re 7. Younger sells more papes.” And Les could very well pass for 7 years old. “And if we’re going to be partners –”

“Who said we wanted to be partners?” cut in Davey and Jack resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She just wanted to spend time with a good-looking guy but said guy was making it VERY hard for unknown reasons!

“’Cause youse got a younger brother and I don’t,” replied Jack, trying to stay civil.

“Selling with Jack is a chance in a lifetime,” explained Crutchie and Jack was very tempted to hug her friend. “You’re selling with him, you’re selling with the best.”

She’d really need to get him an extra slice of bread or something to thank him.

“So,” continued Jack, “my two bits come off the top and we split the rest 70-30.”

“50-50, you’re not trying to pull a fast one on a little kid, are you?” asked Les with a frown.

Jack paused. She had expected a comment from Davey but not from Les. She learned her lesson: both brothers are smarter than they look.

Jack gave Les a look before offering, “60-40 and that’s my final offer.”

Les glanced back towards his brother who motioned with a small gesture to accept. Les smiled before turning back towards Jack.

“You’ve got a deal!” he exclaimed happily.

Jack smile back as she spit in her hand and extended it towards Les.

“That’s disgusting,” remarked Davey.

“That’s business,” replied Jack as Les had no problem spitting into his own hand and shaking Jack’s.

Now that that had been taken care of, the lead newsie stepped onto the wagon and addressed the boys in the square. “Alright newsies, hit the streets! The sun is up, the headline stinks and this kid ain’t getting any younger! Let’s go sell some papes!”

And let Plan C take effect! Thought Jack as she jumped down, swinging an arm around Les and Davey’s shoulders.

She took the small success that neither of them shrugged her off.

“Hey, Les, head down that street ‘ver there. Bank’s just ‘bout to close. You’ll sell a bunch of papes there!” Jack pointed to the right and the kid didn’t even hesitate as he dashed down the street, managing to sell a paper before he even reached the corner.

Jack couldn’t stop her smile from forming.

“Why are you being so helpful to us?”

Jack glanced towards Davey. “It’s as I said, youse got a kid brother and I don’t. And I knows youse ain’t no charity case so don’t think that either.” She even winked, knowing full well she used his line right back at him.

Davey sighed, recognizing his own words easily enough but didn’t ask again. Jack was content with that and just watched as Davey attempted to sell a paper. She had finished her pile several minutes ago and had been waiting for the brothers.

Namely Davey.

Les had no problems selling papers, even taking a bunch from his brother every so often.

Davey just didn’t have the skills. Yet.

However, Jack was getting tired and hungry so she made her way towards him, resisting the urge to sigh as she said, “Hand it over.” Davey somewhat protested as Jack took the paper right out of his hands but she ignored him as she headed further down the sidewalk. “Escape from burning inferno! You heard it here!”

A man that had been passing easily exchanged a penny for the paper and Jack gave Davey a triumphant look as she held it out for him to see.

“You lied to that man,” stated Davey, unimpressed.

“I did not,” argued Jack, even putting on an indignant look. “I said he heard it here and he did.”

“My father taught us not to lie.”

Jack didn’t even bother looking over at Davey as she leaned against the nearby street corner. “Well, mine taught me not to starve,” she muttered, stuffing her hands into her pockets.

Suddenly, Les came running back to the duo, yelling out happily, “I just sold my last pape!”

“I have one more,” said Davey, fishing it out of his bag.

“Sell it or pay for it,” said Jack.

“Give it here!” Les grabbed the paper from his brother and ran over to an incoming woman. Jack quickly pulled Davey around the corner, out of sight, before peering at Les, watching the kid’s magnificent display of acting.

Unlike his brother, Les took whatever Jack taught him seriously and learned very quickly, making Jack overly proud.

She figured from the look of Les’ face, he had even gotten more than a penny for that last paper and the smile didn’t fade as Davey joined his brother, reprimanding him for who knows what once more.

Jack had stopped listening to be honest.

“Hey, what do you say we divvy up our earnings, grab something to eat and then find a place to crash for the night,” suggested Jack, joining the brothers.

“We’ve got to get going actually,” explained Davey as he pulled out his meager earnings from his pocket, adding them up with Les’. “Our folks are expecting us for dinner.”

Jack froze in surprise. Folks. She had not been expecting that.

She did not do “folks”, not since her father passed away.

However, actually taking a look at the brothers, Jack cursed herself for not noticing how clean they were, them and their clothes… Of course, they had a family, had a mother to wash for them.

Jack felt herself back away out of habit.

“You should join us,” continued Davey, still counting the money. “Our folks would be happy to have you.”

“Mom’s a great cook,” added Les with a large smile.

Davey finally looked up at the unusually quiet Jack and he quickly realized they had wandered onto a touchy subject. Davey’s features softened but Jack was quicker.

She did not want to discuss family with them.

“It’s alright. I forgot I already had plans with a fella.” She handed over the brothers’ share of the money, knowing full well she probably over gave but she didn’t want to have a heart to heart with them. Not with Davey. Not yet anyway. She backed away hesitantly even as Davey seemed ready to explain something but she didn’t want to hear it at the moment. Instead, she said, “I’m running late now that I think about it. So, see ya –”

“Is that the fella?” cut in Les, pointing to the other side of the street.

Jack frowned in confusion. She made that story up. There shouldn’t be anyone –

She let out a gasped upon seeing Snyder and two of his goons heading in the trio’s direction, Snyder’s dark gaze fixed on Jack. The moment their eyes met, Snyder’s frown deepened and he started running.

“KELLY!” he yelled out in anger.

“Run for it! Come on!” cried Jack, reaching out towards Les first and pulling him down the street.

Read the next chapters here!

#newsies #newsies broadway #newsies fanfiction #fanfiction #ao3 #jack kelly #davey jacobs #jackxdavey #fluff #eventual romance #novelization #genderbend #rule63 #fem!jack #archive of our own

9 notes · View notes

strangerthings-nstuff · 7 years

Text

Distance - Part Six

Steve Harrington x Henderson Reader

Summary - Returning from college for winter break, Y/N is faced with the stinging pain left from her break-up with Steve Harrington.

Word Count -2,638

Warnings - mild swearing, fluff, angst, flashback

A/N - Part Six is here, and I have a feeling you guys will really like this one. I think it might be the longest part so far, so yay for that! There will definitely be one more part, but I’m not sure if there will be anymore after that. Please let me know what you think, because one of the best things about sharing my writing is hearing how you guys react to it. Enjoy :)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

You sat next to Steve in Hopper’s office, a heavy silence filling the air. Steve had just beaten the shit out of Billy. You winced at the memories of flying blood and painful groans, goosebumps running down your arms.

“What’s the matter?” Steve said gently, placing his swollen, bruised hand on yours. Your concerned eyes met his as he squeezed gently, urging you to answer. You were about to speak up when the door flew open, both you and Steve jumping in your seats. You both stared at Hopper as he pushed himself down into his chair, taking his hat off and rubbing his eyes from stress.

He took a deep breath, then spoke, “Steve,” he folded his arms over his chest, leaning back in his seat, “why don’t you tell me why Billy Hargrove is passed out in the waiting room handcuffed to the chair before I put you back in handcuffs.” Steve rubbed his previously bound wrists, and sat up straight.

“Thanks for that, by the way.” He said, referring to Hopper requesting Steve be taken out of the cuffs when arriving at the station.

“Don’t thank me yet, kid,” Hopper said, waiting for an explanation.

Steve sighed, “Listen, Billy… He’s been a huge dick to the kids, alright?” Hopper leaned forward at the mentioning of the kids, realizing that Jane is one of them. “Last night, he threatened Max because of her and Lucas. When she fought back he kicked her out of his car, leaving her alone, in the dark, freezing cold. That’s when Y/N found her.” Hopper glanced at you before returning his attention to Steve, letting him continue. “We took Max home, and Billy came out of the house when we pulled up, and there was a small fight. Thanks to you, you thought. It could’ve been worse.

“Then this morning Dustin called me and told me he needed me, saying it was an emergency, that we had to meet at the Wheeler’s house. I got there, and they all wanted to figure out a way to get revenge on Billy, or something.” Hopper shook his head, knowing that would be something the kids would do. He swears, they think they’re invincible. “Jane offered to scare him... with her powers.” Hoppers face dropped.

“What?” He raised his voice, feeling the urge to rush to the Wheeler’s and make sure El was okay.

“No- no! She didn’t, we didn’t let her.” Hopper took a sigh of relief. “We told them we would handle it.”

“So, you handled it by basing his face in?” Hopper asked, giving Steve a pointed look.

Steve adjusted himself in his seat, “Well, I mean, yeah I guess. I ran into him in Benny’s parking lot and he threw the first punch. I was going to call you actually, thought you’d be better fit to handle it then me, but Billy didn’t give me a choice.”

Hopper took a long sip of his coffee, thinking over the situation. “Listen, kid,” he started, “You should’ve called me sooner, but I don’t blame you,” he set his mug down on his desk. “From what I’ve gathered, he deserved it.”

“He did,” you said finally, breaking your silence. Hopper nodded at you before standing up, placing his hat back on his head.

“I’ll handle Hargrove from here, you guys are free to go.” Hopper held out his hand to Steve, who hesitated for a moment before shaking it firmly. With that, he turned on his feet, walking out of the office to face Billy.

Steve gave you a small smile, relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with Billy’s harassment anymore. More importantly, that Max wouldn’t. You looked at his face, turning darker by the minute as the blood from his broken vessels started to show, a deep frown settling into your own. “Steve…” you whispered, gently tracing your finger over the cut on his lip. “Your face, it looks terrible.”

“Ouch,” Steve responded. “I mean, I know we aren’t together anymore, but you really think I’m that bad looking?” You shook your head at him, unamused with his jokes.

“I’m being serious,” you said, dropping your hand from his face.

“I know, I know,” He grabbed your hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.” You softly smiled as you rolled your eyes. “There she is,” he said smiling at you once again.

“How are you going to explain this to your parents?” You questioned, ignoring his comment.

“I don’t know,” he said rubbing the back of his neck, “but I won’t have to explain in tonight.” You looked at him in confusion, before he continued, “They went to a conference for a few days.”

You nodded your head, understanding. His dad was always away for work, and his mom usually tagged along to get out of the house.

You pulled your hand away from his and shoved it in your back pocket as you stood up, clearing your throat. “I should go pick up Dustin, it’s getting pretty late.” Steve followed your actions, following you as you began walking out of the office. “Are you gonna be okay, Steve?” You questions, referring to his minor injuries.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he responded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ll probably ice my face, don’t want it to get too bad.” He looked over at you charming smile adorning his face, “It’s the only thing I’ve got going for me.”

You shook your head, trying to hide your smile as the two of you stepped out of the police station.

---

“So Harrington beat his ass?” Dustin asked as you drove through the familiar streets of Hawkins, George Harrison’s My Sweet Lord humming through the radio. You nodded your head, keeping your eyes focused on the road.

“That’s awesome!” He cheered, earning a small laugh from you.

“He could’ve gotten seriously hurt, and it wasn’t the best way to handle things,” you said, making sure to make this a big sister teachable moment.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Dustin groaned, “You know that’s cool. Steve kicked Billy’s ass!”

“Yeah, I know Dustin,” you sighed, “I just wish it was handled in a non-violent manner. We should’ve told Hopper as soon as I found Max.” You looked over at Dustin, and he gave you a knowing smile.

“What?” You asked, confused by your brother’s sudden change in attitude.

“You know what.”

“No, Dustin, I don’t,” you let out an annoyed sigh, “I clearly wouldn’t be asking if I knew.”

“It’s obvious why your so upset about this violence.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh yeah? Why is that Dustin”

“It’s because you loooove Steve. You don’t want Steeeeeve to get hurt because you love him,” Dustin said drawing out his words in a mocking tone. Your face turned bright as you tried to muster up an answer, although he wasn’t wrong.

“Yes, Dustin, I care about Steve. I don’t want him to get hurt,” you responded, avoiding eye-contact. You pulled into your driveway, turning it off as soon as you parked.

“You didn’t want him to get hurt, because you love him!” He teased again, pulling on your arm for dramatic effect.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, getting out of the car and rushing into the house to avoid any more awkward confrontation.

You fell on your bed as soon as you reached your room, heart racing from Dustin’s words. You did love Steve. You hadn’t stopped since the first time you admitted it to him.

Steve ran his hands soothingly along your back as the rain hit the large glass windows in his living-room. You two had plans to go to a party tonight, but his parents were away for the weekend and both of you agreed that some time alone was better than dealing with drunk, sweaty people that neither of you cared much for anyways. You had convinced him to watch Sixteen Candles, despite his protests. He had said it was to make you happy, but you really knew he was a sucker for chick-flicks on the inside.

You tried to remain focused on Molly Ringwald, but Steve’s hand was distracting. “Steve, you’re distracting me,” you admitted, causing his hand to stop in the middle of your back.

“Oh, am I?” He said, continuing his motions. You closed your eyes at the feeling, managing a hum in response. “Sorry,” he said, an idea forming in his head. “Maybe this will be a little less distracting.” You jumped as he tickled your sides, holding you in place as you tried to move away.

“St-Steve,” you breathed out in between tickles. “St- STOP!” You shouted, squirming under his touch. He pulled you onto his lap, laughing along with you as he continued his assault. You continued to protest, but nothing was working, so, you stopped him in the only way you knew would. His hands froze against your skin as you pushed your lips onto his. He immediately kissed back, figuring that it was a definitively better option than a tickle fight. He gripped your waist as you pushed your hands through his long brown hair, pulling lightly. You let this continue for a second, before pulling away breathless. He looked at you, brown eyes soft, a small smile pulling at his lips.

This was it, you thought. If you didn’t say it now, the courage you were suddenly feeling might go away and never come back. “Steve…” You breathed out, letting his hand run over your cheek. He hummed in response, brushing his thumb over your lips. “I think that- I mean I know that…”

“What?” He urged, curious by your sudden nervousness.

You took a deep breath, “I love you, Steve.”

Steve’s hand stopped on your face, shock settling into his features. Butterflies danced around his stomach in reaction to your words. He had been wanting to say what you just had, but he was scared. Nancy hadn’t loved him, and he feared being rejected by you if he had said it first like he did with her. But all of his worries seemed to fly out the window as soon as the words left your mouth. You loved him.

Why was he taking so long to respond? You felt like time stopped as soon as the words left your mouth, yet your heart continued racing. You were starting to assume the worst, until Steve finally broke the silence.

“I love you too, Y/N.” You took a breath, relief filling your lungs. “God, I love you so much it scares me.” You didn’t know what to say, so you did something better. You kissed him, hard. The movie continued playing, but it seemed a foreign language to you as Steve suddenly became the only thing in the world that made sense at the moment.

You wiped the salty tears from your cheeks, sucking in a breath of air. How could Steve do this to you? How could he leave you, ripping apart your heart, his explanation being that it was what was best for you? How the hell did he know what was best for you? How could this be what was best? Lonely nights, crying in bed, knowing the only person who could comfort you was the one causing your pain. Sitting in the corner at college parties, ignoring all the boys who hit on you because they weren’t Steve. Heart feeling heavy every time something reminded you of him, and almost everything reminded you of him. This wasn’t okay. How could Steve make you think that that this was okay, that this was what was best?

Being led by your sudden anger, you stood up, grabbing your keys from your bed and rushing downstairs. You quickly slipped on your shoes, the sudden commotion causing Dustin to look up from his seat on the couch. “Where the hell are you going?” he questioned, “We just got home, Y/N.” You ignored him, nearly tripping over your feet as you pushed yourself out the door and into the car.

---

Knock, knock, knock.

Your foot bounced as you waited for Steve to answer the door, thinking over what you were going to say. Your head snapped up as the door opened, Steve standing there, holding a bag of peas to his head. “Hey, what are y-” You pushed past Steve, cutting him off mid-sentence. He stood in the doorway for a moment trying to process what was happening, before closing it and turning to face you.

“We can’t be friends, Steve. It doesn’t make sense for us to be friends.” He dropped the bag of peas on the living room table, staring at you in confusion.

“What?” he said, concern evident in his voice.

“You decided to break up, because it was what was best. You decided we should be friends, because it was what was best.” You said, staring Steve straight into his questioning eyes.

“I don’t g-” Steve started before you cut him off.

“No, Steve, let me finish,” you said. Steve recognized your serious tone and stood with a blank stare, waiting for you to continue. “You broke my heart Steve, ripped it right in half,” you said, voice breaking. A tear fell down your cheek, but you ignored it and continued. “Four months. It’s been four months and I still cry every time I think about the damn hole you left in my heart, but it’s what was best for me, right?”

“Y/N,” he started, “I’m sorry that I hurt you, it kills me knowing that I’m the reason for your tears, but you don’t need me anymore.” Your gut twisted at his words, but you let him continue. “You have bigger, better things waiting for you. I’m just going to hold you back.”

“God, you’re such and idiot, Steve!” You said, loud tone causing him to jump a bit. “You don’t know what’s best for me, what I need... only I do. Who gave you the right to make my decisions for me?” A small sob escaped your lips, but you weren’t done. “How can you be so blind to the fact that you are what’s best for me? That you are what I need.” You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. “I love you, Steve, and I’ll be damned if I let you take that away from me.” His heart sped up at your words, hearing those specific three for the first time in what felt like forever. “I don’t care if there’s a thousand miles between us, I don’t care if there’s a million miles, you are so much more than the distance, Steve. What we have, is so much more than any of that bullshit.” Silent tears continued to fall down your face as you waited for him to say something. You grew impatient, deciding that Steve had been making too many choices for you.

Before nerves could stop you, you closed the space between you by pushing your lips against his. He reacted immediately, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer. You held one hand against his face, the other running through his hair, old habits kicking in. God, had you missed this. The emotions became too much as your eyes began to leak tears again. Steve gently stroked your back as he pulled away, his own teary eyes meeting yours. “I love you too, Y/N.” You shoved your face into his chest, pulling him into a tight hug. You cried silently, and he continued to rubbing your back. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” You melted in his arms, finally feeling like you were home again.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, Steve,” you whispered against his chest.

“I won’t.”

Tag List - @hufflepeople @everything-intertwined @madhatterweasley @gingerfangirlthefeels @falsettnoland @madelimess @kingkenzieo @moonlightbae14 @dibsonriggs @lightwoods-look-better-in-black @michaels-hands @tiarrasmith @ambeazyyy @allfandomxreader @dreamlandcigarettes @bitcheekittee @deanstolethetardis @nativesebby @spacemarkimoo @istanuriss @incharliewetrustt @desertsivan1995 @tyedyedstars @yikeonbike @harringtonwife @myblackwings5 @earthvsjai @vanna215 @catnissprior-blog @xanaphorax @tiffaniespeaks @um-randomm-and-awkward @mistle-toews @stevesbabysittersclub @imanangelandaprincess @thechandlerbingdance @moonysmemes @l4lyfe @thepotatowearsprada @int0xicated-w0nderlands @fandomtainment @bitchinmouthbreather @gazebros @xceafh@ladylannisterxo @hollandspcter @luliaranda @petrovauris @bands-and-shietz @reckllessly @petah-parkah-and-potahtas

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things imagine #stranger fics #steve harrington x henderson!reader

494 notes · View notes

wineanddinosaur · 3 years

Text

Next Round: Leaving NYC for a Small Town With Restaurateur Adam Dunn

On this episode of the “Next Round” host Adam Teeter chats with Adam Dunn, owner of The Pheasant on Cape Cod, Mass. The Pheasant is a coastal farm-to-table restaurant set inside a historic farmhouse. Dunn details his life before he became a restaurateur — working in the music industry and then for Greenpoint Fish and Lobster. The latter project served as the catalyst for his eventual relocation to Cape Cod.

Dunn explains how relocating to a small town from a big city certainly has its pros and cons. Tune in to hear Dunn explain how he continues to navigate that journey — especially during the ongoing pandemic.

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check out the Conversation Here

Adam Teeter: From Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter, and this is a “VinePair Podcast” conversation. We’re bringing you these conversations as additions to our regular special podcast to give you a better idea of what’s going on in the industry during the Covid-19 crisis. This week I’m really lucky to be talking to Adam Dunn, owner of The Pheasant in Cape Cod. Adam, what’s going on?

Adam Dunn: Not much. Enjoying a beautifully sunny day here on Cape Cod.

A: Lovely. I don’t think I’ve interviewed another Adam before, so this is going to be fun. Tell me about The Pheasant and your background, because I know you as the owner of a really amazing restaurant in Brooklyn. Can you take me through your career so we can get a chance to know who you are and then a little bit about The Pheasant?

D: Sure. My background was in the music industry and entertainment originally. Interestingly enough, I was in college and was booking bands, which I knew that’s all I wanted to do. I moved to New York, started working at a bunch of music venues and live music. I thought that was going to be my career for a very long time. Late mornings, late nights. Go to work at 1 p.m., get home at 5 a.m. That kind of thing.

A: You were at Brooklyn Bowl, right?

D: Yeah, I did Pianos out of college. Then, I moved from there to Brooklyn Bowl for a number of years. On the side, I got really interested in food and where my food comes from, sustainability. I didn’t eat meat for 13 years in high school and college. Then, I started playing sports in college, and I was eating a ton of seafood. I knew nothing about where my fish comes from. It seems hypocritical to be very concerned about meat and know nothing about seafood, so I started learning about seafood. Growing up, I came to Cape Cod every summer as a kid and was used to being around seafood. I was living in Williamsburg at the time and there was nowhere to get local seafood or any quality seafood for that matter. This is before Whole Foods and before everything else came in. I had to go to Chelsea Market to get high-quality fish. That is a three-hour round trip, at least. This is crazy. Williamsburg being the food mecca as it is or was, it just seemed crazy. There was a local Italian market that was OK, but you go in, ask the guy where’s that piece of fish from? He’d look at a tag and say it’s imported. That’s all he could tell you. I knew there’s got to be something more to this, somebody’s got to do something. I had this idea that there should be a place where you can get local fish and know where it comes from, and there’s a little counter of chowder or lobster rolls, fish sandwiches. I knew nothing about fish or where to get fish or how to source it. In my music industry days, I had worked with a guy who had mentioned at some point during our conversations that his family had a seafood business. Fast-forward many years later, I know one person who mentioned knowing something about seafood. I bumped into him at a holiday party and said, “we got to talk. I got this crazy idea.” He said his family was one of the largest and oldest seafood wholesalers in New England. They’ve been around for about 130 years in Boston wholesale. This wasn’t a little seafood thing, this is a big-time major seafood distributor. He said you have a concept, I can source us probably the best fish in New York, if not the best fish in the country. We said, “let’s see where this goes.” We started on the side. We’d rent out the backyard of a bar out in Greenpoint or Williamsburg. We throw a party and promote it like a concert. We make fliers, make Instagram accounts, and Facebook events. We branded the hell out of it. Got a friend who designed a really fantastic brand and sold merchandise, hats, shirts, oyster knives, koozies, you name it. We started building some traction, and it started taking over. It climaxed when we took out one of those New York Harbor boats, and a buddy of mine ran concerts on those boats and gave me a deal on a boat. We put 300 people on the boat, open bar, lobster rolls, oysters, ceviche, and we had a DJ named Jonathan Toubin.

A: I love Jonathan Toubin. He did a party of mine because I was in the music industry, too. I think we crossed paths.

D: Oh man, there’s so much here especially to make connections with you.

A: Yeah, I used to do A&R for J Dub.

D: OK, so we definitely crossed.

A: We used to throw parties at Brooklyn Bowl. I think you booked one of my bands there.

D: It gets so fuzzy between the two.

A: It’s crazy — I’m going on a tangent here — but were you there at the same time? Now I just blanked on his name, but the guy who was involved in signing MGMT and stuff.

D: Oh, Will Griggs.

A: Yes, Will Griggs! Were you there at the same time?

D: Yeah, I took over when Will left. Will was there the first two years, I think, of Brooklyn Bowl. Then, he was focusing on his label and various other projects. Then, a buyer and I were involved in Brooklyn Bowl as a consulting partner for booking. I met those guys early on in my Pianos days. I started hanging out with them. When the time came, they said hey, you’ve got this 800 to 1,000-capacity venue in Brooklyn, and he’s a booker. I’ll do that.

A: That’s amazing.

D: Yeah, Jonathan Toubin is where we left off. Jonathan Toubin actually DJ’d my wedding here on Cape Cod. He was our first ask and he said “yeah, I’ll come up and do it.”

A: Very cool. You’re trying to source great seafood, throwing parties.

D: We were throwing parties and we said to each other, “let’s see how far this goes.” At some point, we expected to stop. There’s going to be some barrier and we can’t go any further and let’s see where that is. It never stopped. We just kept going. We kept finding ways around these barriers and managed to put some investors together because we had built a brand. We wanted to show that we had some traction and engagement. We managed to get some friends, family, private investors, random folks that we had come across that were interested. Before we opened up on June 30, 2018, we opened up this little brick-and-mortar fish market counter and raw bar. We did that for a number of years, expanding into wholesale. My partner Vinnie Milburn was the business brains behind the whole thing and grew and built this wholesale machine. That’s really the direction the business started going, it was wholesale. We realized we weren’t going to add more restaurant locations. The amount of debt you incur to open a new brick and mortar in New York was one step forward, two steps back. We were like, “How are we ever going to get out of this?” We decided wholesale was a lot easier to scale. You have to deal with customers and there are some benefits for certain types of personalities. We started going in that direction. Then I hit a point where I really like the customer-facing side. I really like creating experiences. I’m a promoter at heart. Back when I was booking bands, I was trying to find obscure bands and introduce them to people and grow them. I love that feeling of showing somebody something they haven’t seen before and then people are like “holy shit, that was awesome. Where do I get more?” That’s my drive. The wholesale thing, as awesome as it was to be knee-deep in razor clams at 4 in the morning and lugging 80-pound halibut around before dawn in New York City, it was exciting, but it was brutal hours and it wasn’t where my passion was. I was looking for opportunities and my wife and I were looking to start a family. We’re trying to forecast our life in New York. Then, we thought there might be an opportunity somewhere else. We fantasize, like everybody does who lives in New York, about where you would go. Upstate New York, Vermont, Maine. Then, I realized my family has a house in Cape Cod in South Dennis. I knew the Cape really well. I came here for 25 years with my family, so we asked, “What about Cape Cod?” What’s going on up there? We were looking for businesses for sale. We saw that this famous restaurant called the Red Pheasant Inn was for sale. My parents rented a house every summer from across the street from this restaurant.

A: Oh, wow.

D: I don’t know, for 11 or 12 years. That was where every summer my parents and friends of theirs would go out for an anniversary or a birthday and would leave the kids at home. It was a fancy restaurant on Cape Cod, and it had a massive wine list, white tablecloths. However, it was stuffy and dated, and we never wanted to go to the Red Pheasant. I don’t think they let people in under the age of 16.

A: It was supposed to be an adult place.

D: Exactly. We saw it was for sale and was like, “Oh, that’s interesting.” I think we had just come the summer before and we had walked into the restaurant to have a nice adult dinner. We couldn’t stop thinking about how amazing the floors were. It’s a 250-year-old farmhouse, original wood floors, original post-and-beam. It oozes New England farmhouse vibes. It’s got two working fireplaces. It’s just years, years, and years of firewood into the walls. It’s stunning. It’s a dream place. I remember saying, “Somebody could really do a number with this place.” Anyway, it came up for sale and we couldn’t believe that place was for sale. We kept reading and it said there’s a four-bedroom house attached to it. It’s on an acre and a half. Oh, it’s on a lake. It’s a 10-minute walk to the beach. I know the neighborhood. My parents have a house in the area. This seems like a no-brainer. Let me tell you, money goes a lot further when you leave New York City, as I think everybody knows. It depends on where you go, but we got a lot of bang for the buck.

A: Before we kick it off more, ’cause then I want I to hear about the process — that’s how you wound up on this podcast, right? You actually listened to our Monday podcast episode about restaurateurs and beverage specialists moving to smaller towns, smaller cities to open places, and you reached out. Turns out we had these crazy mutual connections and you got to come on the podcast and talk about it. This is something people are doing. I’d love to use you as a way to show other people who might be thinking about it, what you did, and how you figured it out. The one thing that I wanted to ask you is, did you know other people who had already done this? Who had been restaurateurs in New York City? For example, Prairie Whale in the Berkshires, the way you describe your spot sounds very similar to what it’s like in a very old home. Did you go check out places like that? Did you know people who had done this? What was the thought? What happened when you decided to do this. Did you start doing research, or what research did you do?

D: We probably didn’t do as much research as we should have. We found the building, the property, and the deal was right. We could live there. We could sustain. I think the easiest thing when people do these moves is finding a business and a residence together. It might not sound awesome to be living where you work, but it makes it affordable. If we were just buying the restaurant, it would have been too expensive to buy the restaurant. If you were just buying a house, it would have been too expensive to just buy the house. When you get them together, it’s an incredible deal. The business fee pays for the house, and it’s a self-sustaining system. You can keep the doors open and cover the mortgage or the lease. I think the best thing is to buy in these types of situations because you’re going all-in on this. I’ve seen in other places, what’s worked typically is when you can find that work-live situation. Otherwise, you’d be buying a restaurant and you need quite a bit of cash to do that. Then, you’ve got to figure out where you’re going to live. Sure, sometimes where you are, you can find cheaper housing. What’s tough about the Cape is the housing market is really expensive here. The Cape is such a weird place, because it’s so seasonal and in the off-season has a somewhat rural vibe to it. It’s really quiet and deserted, but the housing prices are crazy because they get such huge money in the summer. The Cape is actually very difficult, unless you’re coming from gobs of money — and good for you if you can make that happen. You need to find this live-work situation. It’s prohibitively expensive to find a business to buy and then to find a house to buy. That’s been the hardest thing. Affordable housing is such a big issue on the Cape because of the weird dynamics of seasonal vacation waterfront homes. Prairie Whale is in Great Barrington, which was definitely an inspiration for sure. I read articles. I read everything I could about people who have done this stuff. None of it accurately describes what it’s going to be like but it’s exciting. It’s romantic. We were reading about Mark. He was involved in Marlow and Sons in the Andrew Tarlow empire in the beginning. Then, they split and went up there to start a farm and then the restaurant. I was like, “This all sounds incredible.” I’m sure the housing market there is not too dissimilar, but I’m sure there are also pockets of much more affordable housing. There’s just a larger space because the Cape is such a limited, narrow strip of land. There’s only one way on, one way off. There isn’t that much inventory. It’s hard to live 40 minutes away.

A: It makes me think of someone who would think about doing this in the Hamptons.

D: Yeah, it’s not nearly that same over-the-top wealth in the same way that the Hamptons can be. However, it definitely has that same one long road all the way to the end. A two-lane highway kind of thing.

A: You’re not going to live 30 minutes away, 40 minutes away. If you need to get to the restaurant, then all of a sudden there’s a traffic jam, basically.

D: Yeah, that’s an issue but there just aren’t that many houses because it’s not 30 miles in every direction. It’s 30 miles north or south, east or west. It just limits how much housing is available in the immediate area.

A: OK, so you buy the place. What was going through your head? Did you know what you wanted to do? Were you going to buy it and take it over? What were the people selling it expecting to happen?

D: The people who sold it to us had owned the restaurant for 40 years. The father ran it for a number of years and the son took over and ran it. It was an institution, a real icon on Cape Cod. I told my parents we’re buying it, they were like “The Red Pheasant?” They couldn’t fathom that we were buying this iconic restaurant. It means a lot to people, a lot of anniversaries, birthdays, special occasions. It was a special-occasion place where people dressed up. It was a nice dinner out in this area, Cape Cod. They were looking to hand this off. I think they were just grateful to get rid of it. Honestly, we felt that toward the end of the business we saw they were 70, and just getting tired. The customers ran the place at the end. They had a regular clientele. I remember I told the chef-owner that we’re going to put this awesome gourmet burger on the menu. He’s like, “Oh, I always wanted to put a burger on the menu and couldn’t.” I never understood what he meant. “Why couldn’t you put a burger on the menu? It’s your restaurant.” Not to get ahead of myself in this conversation, but we had somebody come in when we had first opened and this older gentleman who was wearing a jacket pulled me aside to say, “Are you the owner?” I said “Yeah.” He said, “This is a nice restaurant, you can’t have hamburgers on the menu.” I had this whiplash, this aha moment. I realized that these customers had been with him for 30, 40 years and they had everything dialed in exactly how they wanted it.

A: He wasn’t going to mess with them because they were super-loyal customers.

D: Correct. There are some people that he had met. Oh, man, there’s so much here. Every December, all the towns around the holidays do holiday strolls and people walk through town, restaurants give things away, stores give things away. It’s a meet-and-greet kind of thing. Once we knew we were likely to buy it, we made an offer and it was accepted. I came up to do the stroll because he wanted to introduce me to all the regulars. He wanted to introduce me as the new owner so I came up and met all these people and everybody wanted to meet me and were sizing me up. I remember some people were just terrible. He was like, “Yeah, you don’t want those people. I’m so glad to be getting rid of them.” Oh, thanks, appreciate that. They expected to hand off the restaurant to let us run it. They told us to keep some of the menu items, some of the staples on the menu. Then, maybe you can slowly change them out. Frankly, we had no interest in the old menu. The old menu hadn’t changed in 30, 40 years. It was dated, like French-American, but slowly getting further away from being French. It became a weird menu of wasabi mashed potatoes next to seared duck and just got all over the place.

A: Right. Trendy food items here from the ’90s, mixed with trendy food items here from the ’80s. I know what you’re talking about.

D: We were looking to get rid of that entirely. He said to just be careful. We had learned that two of their items made up about 40 or 50 percent of the menu sales. There was a sole meunière and a seared duck. That was it. That’s all they sold. You can’t run a business like this. If that’s your business, then just open a shack and just sell one item. Don’t open a full-service restaurant with a full menu if you’re only selling two dishes. The logistics and economics of it made no sense. We have to get rid of that, and we have to have a menu that every item is balanced in terms of sales to some degree, at least less than how skewed it is with this current menu. We brought in a chef. We managed to find a chef locally who was really talented, and he wanted nothing to do with the old menu. He was not coming to cook somebody else’s food. We’re like, great, we’re on the same page there. We opened up. The other wrinkle in this whole thing was that Erika, my wife, is pregnant with our first baby. We were told that the due date was July 4th, which, if you know vacation towns in New England, July 4th is a very busy weekend. Easily the busiest weekend of the summer, which therefore is the busiest week of the year. It was also a brand-new restaurant for us. We ended up opening the restaurant on June 1. We had four weeks under us. Then Erika went into labor on July 4th. The baby was born on July 5th. It was insane. I was a zombie the entire year. It was probably the most intense thing we’ve ever done. We were renovating the house and the restaurant. We moved into the rest of the house on May 15, opened the restaurant on June 1, the baby came on July 5th. I don’t recommend it.

A: You’ve re-done the entire place, right?

D: No, it just needed new paint. It was really dark and drab. Everything was mauve, like red. It was just dark and dated. There are lots of tchotchkes everywhere, people bring them gifts I guess. Old Victorian lighting fixtures were hanging from a low ceiling so the whole place had this cavernous feel, but not a good way. It was stuffy so we brightened the whole place up. We added some new tables. We re-did the whole bar area. The bar needed a lot of work. The bones of the place were incredible but it just needed some love. Frankly, a slightly more contemporary approach to the style of a farmhouse, but modernized it a little bit. I think if you were to walk in, you would get what’s going on in here.

A: You basically re-do the place in terms of the menu, etc. What style of cuisine were you going for?

D: The stuff that we had loved in Brooklyn, new American comfort. Our favorite restaurants are these cozy new American spots in Brooklyn with a fantastic wine list and great cocktails. Again, like the Andrew Tarlow empire, Jeffery’s Grocery, this style of rustic, new American, but with great technique and a certain level of casualness at the same time. That was a weird thing for Cape Cod that people didn’t understand that you can have a nice restaurant that’s not fancy. They didn’t get that. People were very upset that we got rid of white tablecloths. We changed out all the glassware. We change out these giant Martini glasses for coupes. People lost their minds. They’re like, “What is this? Where’s my Martini glass?”

A: They’re angry, though.

D: Yeah, they were mad. I’ll tell you, we had people who walked out because we didn’t have a certain type of vodka. That’s all they drank is this one type of vodka and we didn’t have it. They got up and left. Then, they asked us for Limoncello and I didn’t have Limoncello so they left. Cape Cod is a weird place. I love it here, but there’s a weird culture where people overpay for food and underpay for booze. In New York City, there are certain benchmarks, standards for how you price things, and it was inverted on Cape Cod. People are giving away booze and charging stupid money for poor-quality frozen ingredients.

A: Whereas you’re taking the margin where you’re supposed to get it, which is from alcohol.

D: We are serving better-quality food at the same prices as everybody else. Anyway, our drink prices were not quite New York City prices by any means, but were priced according to the ingredients in the drink. There were quality ingredients and cheap cocktails, 12, 13, 14 bucks, but they were measured. They weren’t free-poured. People were really upset that they weren’t getting these giant pours of wine and giant, 6-ounce Martinis. People were angry, and they called us out for being from New York. We had people writing us letters, angry letters, saying they are never coming to our restaurant. For the check presenters, in the beginning, we’re using postcards. We had somebody write us a letter, a really nasty negative letter on one of our postcards with no return address. We were like, “Cool, thanks. I appreciate that.” It was wild. It was hard. The bar food on Cape Cod is very low. It’s been stuck in this ‘80s, ‘90s thing with seafood shacks with low-quality ingredients. It’s touristy, right? It’s getting your money when you can from people you’re never going to see more than once. Everything was stuck in that. Erika and I, coming from New York, we‘re going to be on Cape Cod. We want to create a place that we would eat on a regular basis, not just a special occasion, but a place that you want to go and see your friends. You want to go post up at the bar. You never know who’s going to walk in and be a neighborhood community spot. We thought we were bringing something that was very much needed to the Cape. It was needed. On the other side of this, people who don’t like change. You get older people, especially on Cape Cod there’s a lot of retirees. You get people who think they know everything, and they like it because nothing changes. As soon as you come in and you’re from a place in New York City, they get very upset.

A: It seems as though you thought that you were going to come in and people would say, “Thank you so much, we’ve been waiting for a Brooklyn-style restaurant on Cape Cod.” And they were like “get the fuck out.”

D: That was exactly it. There are so many emotions flying, between the move, the baby, going all-in on every penny. Then, to have somebody essentially spit in your face and not care about any of that. It’s the people who wouldn’t even try it, the people who wouldn’t even sit down and taste it would say, “I can’t read any of these ingredients. I don’t know what any of this is.” They were getting offended because they felt radicchio is a novel concept. You don’t want to make people feel small. They want to know and understand, they don’t want to have to ask questions. We were trying to do something where we were introducing people to new things. That’s the fun of it, right? For my wife and I, that’s why we like dining out, to go to new places and try different things and be excited when the menu changes every time we’re there because there’s something new to try. It’s an experience for us, and we’re dealing with a lot of people who just want the same thing every time. They wanted to count on certain things. On top of that, we throw in a seasonal menu, which changes four times a year and their heads really spin. They would say “Oh, I love that dish, where did it go?” We try to do something different that’s not in season anymore. We burned a lot of these old regulars from this restaurant, hard. Honestly, it was probably the best thing that ever happened.

A: There’s a silver lining here, Adam. Right now, it sounds all doom and gloom. You go to another place and you open the thing. We’ve got to get there.

D: Yeah, we’re going to get there. I’m just trying to say it is hard. It was a roller coaster of emotions. Everybody who’s considering doing this should be prepared for how this can happen.

A: Yeah, you don’t just walk in as a conquering hero.

D: Yeah, exactly. It took us a minute to recover. That first year, we closed for the first winter. We closed for three months because we were so fried emotionally. We asked, “What are we doing?” We stuck it out. That first year we had to go through that fire because the customers that came out the second year were so much more pleasant. They were people who didn’t go initially because they were nervous about this new restaurant. Then they started coming out and the previous restaurant customers, most of them, had left. It was great. All of a sudden, people are commenting on how much younger the guests in the restaurant were. It was a place where we heard that older and younger people used to call The Red Pheasant “The Dead Pheasant” because it was just so stuffy and old. It’s been taking a long time, but people now are like, Oh, it’s not The Red Pheasant anymore. It’s not like that, it’s not stuffy. It’s new owners, it’s young, it’s exciting. Those people had started coming out after these, for lack of a better term, crotchety, angry, disgruntled older customers stopped coming because they felt like this is a cool place to be. Every year since then has gotten better and better. People are more receptive to our menus and ingredient choices, style, and drink menus. The second year, we did a CBD cocktail with a weed leaf garnish dropped on top of the rocks, and people were so excited. People came out. We ran that for 4/20 as a special, and people went nuts. This is clearly a new thing here. Then, fast-forward, we got to Covid, and we were panicking. We were closed for six weeks. We were on vacation in Jamaica when the news started coming out in February about this looming pandemic. I was freaking out and having a hard time settling in on vacation. Then, we came back and it was full-blown. We were supposed to open on March 18 for the season. The governor shut everything down on the 16th, I think it was. It all changed. Then, we decided to push everything outside. We just did picnic tables. I’m really proud of how we set it up. There was all counter-service. We ran food out to you. The menu was much faster, and it was really easy for the kitchen to execute. It was a really fun and high-quality menu. It was casual. Everything’s in takeout containers. High-quality, compostable biodegradable containers, but still takeout containers nonetheless. We also had compostable forks and knives. The wine was all in plastic. It was all cans and bottles. We didn’t do anything by the glass, but it worked really, really well. We had a lot of people who were blown away by the experience. We had families coming out, which is great. The restaurant during normal times is probably not a great place for little kids. Their parents are absolutely our regular customers, and we can introduce them. Also, get people in during the summer that will hopefully continue to come. When things get back to normal, they’ll get babysitters and now they discover this restaurant. We had people who would be on vacation for five days and they were coming three or four nights of their trip because they were so excited about being outside and being safe. Everything was really spacious. We started selling all this natural wine that we were struggling to sell previously. I’ve got old ladies drinking Broc Cellars Love Red cans by the case. It was incredible. The casualness that was forced upon everybody really worked in our favor. It really took the pressure off, because we are still known to a lot of people as this special-occasion restaurant, which is a tag label we’ve been trying to shed. It really changed people. I’ve had customers say “I actually really liked your outdoor vibe better than what the restaurant was previously inside.”

A: I wonder about that. A bunch of people I know, we’re talking about now doing two different things when things go back to normal. For example, we brought on James who owns Popina in Brooklyn. I don’t know if Popina existed before you left.

D: I don’t think so but I’ve been keeping tabs on things.

A: He basically went to counter service and the question now becomes, does he become counter service in one part of his restaurant, or is that a during-the-day thing where he’s counter service and then he converts to sit down at night? There are now customers who love that. They love that they could come at 1 o’clock in the afternoon, get a bottle of wine, eat some of your food, sit out in the backyard and play bocce. Also, it’s going to allow him to come back more easily. We talk about this a lot on the podcast, too. What is it going to look like in terms of service and how many people are going to add to your staff and that kind of stuff? I wonder, have you thought about that, too? Would The Pheasant be casual during the day? Then you go to the traditional sit-down at night but outdoors. It’s still the same kind of counter service, etc. you guys were doing?

D: The problem with space is that we realize it’s not good to do indoor and outdoor at the same time. It’s one or the other. This past summer, while we were doing all the outdoor seating and everything, we were like, “Let’s do lunch. Let’s try lunch because we’re set up. It’s beautiful out. It’s Cape Cod.” We’ve never done lunch before and we were proven right. We don’t do lunch because on Cape Cod, on a sunny day, no one’s eating lunch. They’re all at the beach. Everyone’s at the beach. If you don’t have a waterfront view, you’re not going to get lunch business. There are a couple of places maybe, but most of them have views. Most of them have some connection with the beach or you can walk on from the beach. We tried for the first two months of June and July, offering lunch. It just didn’t happen. You would get a couple of tables. It’s also hard to change people’s perceptions. On the Cape, the biggest issue we have is marketing and communicating to customers, because so many people are tourists. They come out on the weekends, and there’s no way to connect to them. We hit people on Facebook and Instagram with ads or promote ads in Boston, because we want to get them before they come out here because once they’re out here, they’ve already made their plans. They know where they’re going. They’re going to go to all the favorites. You have to get them talking and thinking about it before they even get out here, get it on their radar. It’s hard to suddenly convince people like, “Oh, by the way, the restaurant is now doing lunch.” They’ve never done lunch in the 40 years they’ve been a business. We didn’t see it. The plan for us, and I’m knocking on wood right now, but we’re less than a mile from our local beach, which is a fantastic beach, very family friendly corporation beach. It’s a 10-minute walk, and they have a killer snack bar there. Well, the operator right now is not awesome. It’s pretty generic, mozzarella sticks and a bad burger. It’s just generic, but the space and layout are awesome. There are all these picnic tables on a cliff above the dunes, looking over the beach. It’s a really great setting, and it comes up for bid every two years. We’re going to put in for it for next summer and try to kill that program. That’s how we’ll do lunch. It’s off-site, but it’s less than a mile away. It’s a different style of food. You get people that way and then transition them, “Hey, come off the beach, bring this flyer and come get a cocktail with us at 5 o’clock or 4 o’clock.”

A: That’s awesome.

D: That is what we’re thinking is the transition and the next move is to get lunch because you have a captive audience at the beach.

A: You guys are closed now because this is the worst time to be open in Covid. What are your plans for when you reopen?

D: We were debating for a long time. I was really stressing out about if we’re going to be inside, outside, or if we’re going to do both. I was really concerned that a lot of people are going to want this sense of normalcy and they’re going to want to go back inside. We had a comfortable bar. A lot of regulars and people tell us, “We can’t wait to go back to the bar.” I was thinking, if we don’t go inside, we are going to have a lot of disappointed people, and people want normal. The more we thought about it, there’s just no flow. The building wasn’t designed to do that. The server who is going out with food would have to be sharing the entrance with people coming in. It’s a really long haul from the kitchen. We were talking about putting in new doors and this historic farmhouse cut doors into the side to access outside. It was just getting more and more complicated. We were thinking, all right, we already have all this infrastructure for doing outdoor dining. It’s summer on Cape Cod. Most people are probably going to eat outside. Last summer, everybody had outdoor dining setups, but they were janky. There were a lot of crappy rental tents with cement barricades. Those places are not going to do that again. They’re all going to go back inside because it’s easier for them. We’re set back from the road and we have these lush gardens and it’s very private. There are string lights, and you feel like you’re somewhere else. We’re thinking, “Let’s just stick with outside, we have the model down. We can build upon it and let’s take a chance on being the only game in town doing extensive outdoor seating. We’ve got 20 tables. We can put 120 people outside. It’s substantial. Let’s try that again and own it.” Massachusetts is operating differently than New York, from what I can tell. There’s a reopening, and they lifted the capacity limits in Massachusetts. The only restrictions for indoor dining are six feet apart, but nobody can get vaccines. The governor is saying, “We know the vaccines are taking a long time, everyone needs to be patient. We’re racing against the variants to get everybody vaccinated but we’re excited to reopen restaurants and businesses.” We’ve gone this far, why don’t we wait until more people are vaccinated or restaurant workers are vaccinated? Going inside is somewhat contingent on hope and a prayer that it seems it’s trending in that direction, but I don’t know. What do we know for sure? Outside, it’s safe. It’s Cape Cod in the summer, people like sitting outside, we know we can execute it. Let’s just do it. And we have this rare opportunity where other towns are giving waivers to restaurants to do extensive outdoor dining in areas that they normally wouldn’t let you do outdoor dining. You have to have patios. You have to have all kinds of infrastructure to do it “properly.” They’ve allowed waivers last summer, and I just checked again and they are going to do it again this year. Let’s run with it. Why complicate it? Everybody can feel comfortable. We can continue doing the kid thing. That all being said, we know that transition back inside in the fall next year is going to be rough, because we have to completely reinvent the restaurant. We’re going to close for a couple of weeks and go back inside because it’s just too cold out here, as it is in New York. I’m not looking forward to that, but I think that’s going to be the play. That’s where we’re at right now. We’re on a break right now, but every day all we’re doing is trying to run through scenarios. If we’re not doing anything inside, we have to do outdoor bathrooms. Are people going to respond to that? Are they going to get angry? How do we do this? How is the flow going to work? It’s a lot of what-ifs and unknowns. It’s stressful, but it’s almost easier now that we decide we’re just going to be outside, as opposed to trying to think about half in, half out. That’s the play. I’ve had fun listening to all the podcasts about your predictions and trends. I was listening to the lemonade one. I’m like, “Huh, I should probably look into lemonade.” We’re doing a lot of research and trying to see, trying to glean as much information as we can to try to have the most efficient and best summer we can. On Cape Cod, summer is it. You make 80 percent of your revenue for the year in three months.

A: It’s crazy.

D: We’re hoping that this year will start earlier. Last year, it didn’t really take off until August, because everyone was locked down and they weren’t allowing rentals on the Cape until July. It sputtered along until August, and then took off. This year, as soon as the weather turns, it’s going to be on like a firehose. There are no rental properties on Cape Cod. You can’t find a place to stay. It’s wild. They just announced part of the reopening so now you can have outdoor gatherings of 150 people. And so, all the weddings are back on. All the resorts are booked. It’s going to be bananas. You want to be in the right position to receive all that. There’s not a whole lot of room for error, at least for us. We take it really seriously. We take every review seriously. If somebody doesn’t leave telling us how amazing a time they had, we feel like we failed.

A: It means you’re a good restaurateur.

D: We’re trying to have it all dialed in for this quick hit, and then we’ll cross the next bridge when we get to it.

A: Well, Adam, this has been an amazing conversation. I feel like I’ve definitely learned a lot about what you’ve been through, which is awesome. Hopefully, everyone who has listened has as well. I think if you are thinking about moving from a city into a smaller town, much of what you say is encouraging to people. I think you’re also a realist, which is great. It’s not going to be easy. You’re not going to go somewhere and be welcomed with open arms. I think your story is a really, really cool one. I really appreciate you sharing it with me.

D: My pleasure. The best takeaway is that the quality of life is incredible. That’s the biggest thing. At the end of the day, on any given day, our son goes to the lake in the morning and goes to the beach in the afternoon, maybe we go fishing. It’s this incredible, magic childhood. We love being here in the winter because it’s so quiet and beautiful. We have so much space, but nothing comes easy. That was our ultimate goal. We will figure out the other part of it. Don’t give up the fight, but just know that it’s definitely not easy.

A: Well, Adam, thanks so much again, I really appreciate it. I wish you the best. I can’t wait to come to The Pheasant sometime. I’ve actually never been to Cape Cod, so I’m going to have to go. People talk about how amazing it is.

D: Thanks for having me. It’s a pleasure.

Thanks so much for listening to the podcast. If you love this show as much as we love making it, then please leave a rating on review on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever it is you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show.

Now for the credits, VinePair is produced and recorded in New York City in Seattle, Wash., by myself and Zach Geballe, who does all the editing and loves to get the credit Also, I would love to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder, Josh Malin, for helping make all this possible, and also to Keith Beavers, VinePair’s tasting director, who is additionally a producer on the show. I also want to, of course, thank every other member of the VinePair team who is instrumental in all of the ideas that go into making the show every week. Thanks so much for listening, and we’ll see you again.

The article Next Round: Leaving NYC for a Small Town With Restaurateur Adam Dunn appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/next-round-adam-dunn-the-pheasant/

0 notes