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fafulous · 4 years ago

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Take Me Home (3/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Themes: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS ((The series is following the BOOK ENDING and not Show)), Sad and soft Andy Barber, Single Mother Reader. Cursing.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this! I’m really not so good at nsfw stuff. Bear with me xD

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: NSFW lil smutty.

–

Andrew Stephen Barber is a good man.

He not only asks you out for a date, but also asks your son’s permission to take you out on a date.

But before that you had a conversation with your little one while he was playing with his toys. “Hey Niko, can mommy talk to you?”

Niko fiddled with his toys, whispering to them that he needs to talk to his mother dearest.

“What is it mommy?”

You lifted him and placed him on your lap, kissing his forehead. “Mommy needs to tell you something, and you need to tell me if you’re okay with it.”

“Owkay,” he buries his face in your chest.

“Peaches, will you be okay if I hang out with Andy more than he normally does?”

“But you fwiends with Wandi.”

“Yeah Peaches I know,” you hesitated for you didn’t know if it was wise to have such a delicate conversation with this little brain you love so much, “But I think mommy like Andy more than a friend now.”

“Woh like pwincess and pwince?” he asked you, his face brightening.

You hugged him tighter laughing at his comparison, “Yeah peaches. Like them.”

“But what about papa?”

It was hard to explain, even though Niko knew his mother and father aren’t together. You patiently explained him, pausing in between whenever he didn’t understand.

“…Papa hit me peaches. Papa doesn’t like me, but papa loves you okay, you must know that. You still have to visit papa okay?”

He began to cry again and hugged into your shoulders, realising that the whole ‘papa hitting momma’ triggered his memories that he never liked in the first place, “Me don’t like papa! P-papa hit you! Papa give you booboo in your face mommy!”

“Hey buddy don’t cry.”

Your head turned to Andy; glad he made a visit at the right time. He quickly whispered that the door was unlocked, and he took Nikolai from your grasp. “I got this momma bear,” he whispered.

He snuggled and cuddled Nikolai just to calm him down, walking up and down the house. He didn’t bother about the fact that the child’s tears and snots were staining his blue shirt.

“Hey buddy. Don’t cry what happened?”

“Papa hit mommy. Papa hit mommy-”

Andy cradled him now, trying to distract him with his soothing voice. “Your papa isn’t here buddy. No one’s going to hurt mommy okay? I promise I won’t let anything happen to mommy okay?”

“Y-you won’t h-hit m-mommy Wandi?”

Andy froze for a little bit, wondering where this was coming from, but then you popped in with a teary eye gently telling him that they had a conversation about you asking him out.

“Of course, not buddy. I will never hit Mommy, it’s a promise. I like your mommy okay buddy?”

“Yeah, Mommy say she likes you too.”

“Will you be okay if I’m with mommy?” He asked the little baby, wiping his tears with his hands.

“You pinkie pwomise you won’t hit her?”

“Pinkie Pwomise.”

“Then wowkay.”

A few more minutes of cradling, and the little one dozed off.

Andy put him on the couch after kissing him and came up to you, embracing you in one of his cuddly hugs you always loved. You tip toed and kissed him on the cheek. “Mr. Grumpy Cat, you’re making me feel like I am too dependent on you.”

“Isn’t that a good thing Momma Bear?”

“If you say so.”

—

You knew Andy was a keeper the minute he knew Nikolai would be joining them for their first date at the park.

It so happened that little Niko didn’t like being left alone with Mr. Arthur when his two-favourite people on the planet were going to spend time with one another. He threw a tantrum like one you’ve never seen before, and alas your weak heart couldn’t see him crying for too long.

To your surprise it didn’t sound like he was feigning, but Andy was genuinely looking forward to going out with you and Nikolai at the same time. After all it was his first time he was going to literally go out with you two.

Laying a picnic spread, Andy unpacked the picnic basket. Both of you did try to sneak in a few private moments with each other but was too less. Nikolai would never leave you two alone. “I am so sorry about this Andy. I know you deserved a better first date from my end.” “Hey its completely fine momma bear. This feels just like our dinner nights, only difference is that we’re out in the warm sun with home cooked food and lemonade.”

Mostly what you and Andy could do was cuddle under the tree while you spoke about tame stuff since Nikolai ran up to you both every five minutes. He would take a sip of lemonade, a bite of the Andy’s sandwich and go up the jungle gym with a couple of his newly made kid friends.

“And here I thought you were trying to impress me Andy. Your impressing Nikolai instead of seducing me?” In fact you were drop dead impressed. He took care of your son’s needs first. What more does a single mother need?

It wasn’t also helping how Andy looked so good today. A light blue shirt with black trousers, his sleeves rolled up to show his popping veins on his arm. His muscles weren’t shy from popping through his shirt material. His hair and beard, as usual, is something you’d worship alone.

He looked like a gourmet meal.

“Oh, you want seduction?” He leaned over close, breathing hot air onto your neck while he readied his hoarse voice, “Wait till you taste my peanut butter sandwich honey.” Even though his voice went low, sending you tingly feelings all over, you knew you’d never not laugh for his silly boy jokes.

Dates with Andy soon became date nights. Andy was a gentleman when it came to your son’s involvement. Any other prospective date of yours would have ended it soon since dating you meant having your son all day around. Thanks to the help of Andy’s loyal contacts and past clients, he had managed to get Nikolai into a day-care since it was time you stopped depending on your neighbours. They were extremely kind and didn’t mind taking care of Niko too, but you had to respect their fragile age. So here you two were, on an official first date without your son. A quiet lunch in a quaint cafe right near your library. Andy picked you up, even though you argued that it was literally walk-able from your workplace. Andy and you felt the conversation going so smoothly. It only felt like any other conversation you both had during dinner every day. But only this time, both of you had little butterflies in your stomachs in the hopes of this relationship blooming into a safe cocoon. A safe place for each other. "I’m guessing the first time you saw me, I was never in your good books?” “Oh no,” you huffed taking a sip of your wine, “you were a pain in the ass. I still never get it why you were so rude to me.” Andy reached out for your hands and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’ll never forgive myself for that. You just seemed so so… good to be true. I wanted to keep distance from something that was so wholesome, especially when I used to see you and Niko in your lawn every evening you know.”

”Oh shush Andy. You’ve made Niko’s and my life too good to be true now.” With great difficulty, you let Andy pay for the first date, arguing that he was always fed by your home cooked meals and now was his turn.

“I had a good time Andy. I had such a good time. I want to spend more time with you like this.”

“We have every night ahead of us honey. We get to spend more time more now.”

“Niko has gone to his father’s place, it’s his birthday this week and he wanted Nikolai for the whole week,” your face drooped, “We have the week to ourselves. Do you wanna, you know, do something?”

“Yeah I’d love to. Say what about dinner at my place? Drop in home once work is over? I’ll cook?”

This was a little chance. He wanted to do something more intimate with you.

Once work was over, you straight away drove to his home. When Andy opened the door, you hugged Andy and took in the blissful ambience of his house.

Anyone would argue he wasn’t a bachelor. His house was so neat, better than the first time you visited his house.

Andy made a beeline to the stove and over while you removed your coat and went around the place. His house soon smelled like a warm toasty oven; vanilla candles lit on the table with a few fresh roses in a vase in between.

“How was your day honey? I really love the blouse you’re wearing.”

Such a charmer.

“Thanks bub. My day went fine you had no idea what happened…”

You dramatically narrate the events of your workplace as you plop yourself on the kitchen counter while Andy shows keen interest in your words even though he his cooking. He simmers the flames and chooses to give you his full attention now.

“…and so now Tracy doesn’t like me anymore because I am going out with you now.”

“Is that right now?” he leaned in closer, placing his arm on your sides, trapping you with his arms on either side of you.

You nodded, which was sending Andy crazy because he saw how your supple lips were being trampled by your own teeth. You looked irresistible. With your flimsy cute work blouse showing the perfect amount of cleavage and outlining the cups of your bra, he just instinctively leaned closer to you. Both of you were silent except for each other’s breaths.

But your eyes trailed lazily over him, until it landed on an uncharacteristic embroidered apron that said Kiss the Cook.

As Andy neared you, your legs wrapped around his thighs, feeling his well-toned calf muscles that he must have developed from swimming. Your voice was so breathy that you doubted if Andy could hear you. “Do we obey the words of the apron in this house?”

Andy looked down to his apron and then back at you, eyes looking at your lips, “Well I was planning for that after dinner gets over.”

“Oh Andy,” your fingernails trace his cheek, shamelessly pulling him by the chin as your lips brushed his. “But I’m so hungry…”

Andy smashed his lips on to yours, even though he wanted to be gentle. You kissed him back with all the pent-up frustration of not being able to touch a man for so long on to him. Andy kissed you just as passionately and deeply as you did. You ruffled and pulled on his hair while your tongues peaked inside one another. He tasted like a homemade meal with a splash of wine. It was the first time both of you made out. Andy Barber of the past would have instantly taken you over the counter, but his clogged mind didn’t think he deserved such gestures of pleasure. So, he never took any initiative to direct things, always seeking your direction like lost puppy. "Andy? Bub? You can touch me wherever you want,” you whispered. He pulled you closer by gripping on to your ass harshly which earned a sexy chuckle from the both of you. Andy couldn’t say how you tasted, maybe it was some flavoured chapstick that you’d always wear? But for Andy, you tasted like home, his favourite taste.

Both of you gently yet quickly ripped off each other’s clothing. Andy’s bare chest made you want to place sloppy kisses all over his body and at the same time pinch his cute pink nipples. But you reminded yourself to stay grounded.

Because Andy was being very reserved with you. He was so hesitant, you could feel it, even though he was a mind blowing kisser. He removed your top and asked you a couple of times if he could touch your breasts.

He pushed away everything and made you lie on the counter. He massaged your breasts while he shoved his tongue way down your throat. It felt so good. He felt so good. So good that you could feel your panties ruined. His hands dangerously neared your clothed core. Your fantasies of Andy bending you over the counter and fucking you like he owned you flashed for a couple of minutes. But Andy stopped his kisses the minute he smelt the burnt smell coming from the oven and stove. Andy took out the burnt pasta and the burnt chicken appetizer from his stove and oven and placed it in the open.

Two panting, half naked bodies looking at each other. “Sorry Bubba. We got um carried away with the kiss, didn’t we?”

“No way honey. That was more than just a kiss. But this is just a plate of pasta and chicken. Besides what do you think about candlelight pizza and some whiskey with your favourite Harry Potter movie?”

“Andy,” you said with your strict voice, “you have officially seduced me with that one question. It’s definitely a big yes!”

Andy plopped you off the kitchen counter with one more passionate kiss and helped you into his sweater (since you requested if you could wear one of his soft blue sweaters). Andy realised you had removed your work skirt and were tying your hair into a high bun when he finished ordering your pizza.

If Nikolai had made his living room messy and loud with his toys and fighting sounds, he would be having a perfect home right now.

Soon the pizza came. Andy didn’t let you do any kind of work. He placed the pizza box on the coffee table and lit two more freshly smelling vanilla candles in front of you. He brought his bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses (and even wine because in case you change your mind). Before Andy sat down you realised, he was like you too with just sweaters and boxers. His hair was the same, ruffled because of the little stunt you both pulled at the counter.

“You don’t mind right?” He gestured to his attire.

“Oh, lover boy, this is a perfect night and I know it.”

Before you know it your cuddling with each other as the movie goes on, taking bites of cheese and sips of alcohol. Once the food gets over, you almost reach one third of the film, now just drinking mindlessly on wine and whiskey as both of you start to get grabby with one another.

Andy and you became tipsy, the movie soon forgotten. Cuddling soon became sweet whispers of comfort.

Sweet whispers of comfort soon became sloppy neck kisses.

Oh boy and these neck kisses ended up being another make out session.

Getting lost into each other’s kisses was something you loved with Andy. Even though you could feel his hard shaft onto your clothed dripping wet core now, both of you responsible adults knew it was too early for sex.

Both of tried to exchange a conversation that was soon forgotten. It came out as mumbled words and they were soon forgotten…

“H’honey,” he burped with the amount of alcohol he had consumed, “you’re not mad at me for not having sex, right?”

“Shhh, it’s okay Andy,” you burped back too, “Nothing wrong in saying no to sex. Consent is important. We are res-responsible adults- Andy that tickles!”

Andy rolled over on top of you on the couch and attacked your ears, peppering his lips all over your chest.

Sex was out of the cards for you lovebirds. Not sloppy wet kisses right? — Andy would do these small gestures that would always bring a gush of warmth and fuzziness inside you. His hands on the small of your back whenever you walked anywhere. The small back rubs he would give you whenever his body swallows you for a hug. His forehead kisses whenever he saw you stressing out too hard thinking about Nikolai. Your most favourite, linking your hands or pulling you towards his shoulders while going out (even in a departmental store) when any unknown young man approaches you.

You did miss your son without doubt, but it gave so much time for you and Andy to get to know each other much more intimately, emotionally.

Andy had his own vulnerabilities. That as just as much he is moving on, he is as much depressed if he is left alone. He even opened to you how he was going and try to reach out to a psychiatrist and you encouraged him to do so if it would make him feel better

Physically, Andy and you fooled around kissing all day. He never initiated anything, but when you did, he would beg you not to stop. You were genuinely not complaining because sex isn’t everything in a relationship. He told you honestly that he wanted to know you much more before consummating with you and you understood, because you realised, he just came out of a 17-year old institution called marriage.

The idea of him moving on was a blessing for you. Now you would wait for the blessing to count… Or you would just take it in your own hands?

Just the day before Nikolai visits home, Andy asked if he could work on Nikolai’s nursery. You were more than happy to oblige.

As hard as it was to get up early on a Sunday morning, Andy made it easier since he bought you some coffee and waffles.

He began with painting the wall with Nikolai’s favourite colour blue and made sure they were done in neat strokes. You are having the time of your life for you just sat on Niko’s bed watching Andy drilling a few holes into the wall.

He was shirtless all day.

You saw how his back muscles flex as he tried to screw in wooden planks on the wall to hold any toys for him. He even made two small wooden cubbies for Niko’s toys and books. He even made sure to buy extra black paint so that we could draw a very amateur version of his Audi car that Nikolai loved. You and Andy had a good laugh at the final disfigured outcome but were happy genuinely. It was the thought that matters

He loves nothing more than a home cooked meal and so you made him lunch and dinner while he finished the last details.

You left Andy alone in Niko’s nursery while you had to wrap up the kitchen and clean it. You made sure Nikolai’s pancakes batter was in stock because he was coming home tomorrow.

When you entered the nursery, it looked so perfect. Green walls, a cute little bed for his liking and a lamp in the shape of a yellow star was placed near his bed. But just one thing or one person looked out of place.

“Andy? Why do you look so stressed?” “Nothing just- was reminded of Jacob,” he shook his head, looking at the photo frame of new-born Nikolai in your arms. “His hair looks uncannily similar to Jake’s.” You sat next to him, your hands gently squeezing his thighs in comfort. “Do you want to talk about it?” “No no, I’m fine.” He gave you a half-hearted grin, but soon smiling at you for he realised how grateful he was for you to be here at every step of processing his emotions, “Thank you momma bear.”

“No bubba, thank you for all of this.” Both of you leaned over for a quick kiss, but Andy didn’t let go. His kiss on your lips felt needy, tugging on to your lips when you let go and looked into his eyes; it wasn’t as sunken as it was when you first laid your eyes on him. You realised how bad it must be for him to be alone with his thoughts.

But at the same time, you knew he wanted more, his eyes looked like that of a needy child wanting comfort.

And you were hell-bent on giving it to him

“Hey bubba, I gotchu’ okay?” He closed his eyes when he felt your soft palms cupping his cheek; the movement of his thumbs making him blush more. You brought your lips to his, feeling his chapped his against your soft ones.

You got up from the nursery and pulled him to your room and gently closed the door to lean in for another deep kiss.

It was too addictive. Andy had to taste more. He pulled you closer and kissed back with a newfound passion. But he felt you pulling back, leaving him breathless only to see you making him sit down on the bed and you falling down on your knees. “Hey no,” he knew what you were up to, “you don’t have do this.” “But I want to Andy. I wanna take care of you.” I want to give my love to you. You convinced him to relax and pulled down his sweatpants. His black boxers didn’t help hiding his growing bulge. You nudged him to open his legs wide and began placing soft kisses up his thighs. Andy breathed out soft whimpers when you licked and grazed your teeth over his clothed bulge all the way up. His needy state made you tear up a little bit, but it was okay, you were here for him now.

You pulled him for one more kiss before pulling down his boxers. “You look so beautiful bubba,” you whispered to him, gently stroking him while you pulled him down for a peck on his lips.

Andy was mesmerised by the sight of his cock in your hands. You teasingly stroked his length and placed sloppy kisses all over, earning a loud curse from him.

“Fuck!”

“Do you like it bubba? Do you like me holding you like this?” your mischievous yet caring eyes fluttering as you kitten licked the tip of his throbbing cock. Andy threw his head back, his breathing becoming heavier.

Andy was a moaning mess and boy oh boy you weren’t even started. He then saw your pretty lips wrap around his shaft, your tongue running around his throbbing length. When you wrapped your hand around the remaining part of his cock, bobbing up and down, Andy became a mumbling mess. He gripped on to the sheets beside him, not wanting to ruin his beautiful sight in front of him.

You could taste his precum on your lips, making you wet already. You sloppily licked him again, thinking about how would his hot cum feel inside of you. Your moan into his cock made Andy shudder with a small intensity. He was close already.

Tonight was about him only.

Andy tried so hard not to close his eyes, but he failed for he lost himself in this pleasure. He finally gave up tugged on to your hair gently, eyes lidded with desire. He felt so good in your mouth.

He felt so good being with you.

As you increased the pace, you felt him buck his hips against your mouth while your fingernails gently teased his balls. Andy wanted to fall back on the bed, but he kept growling incoherently at your antics. But he wanted to see his cock getting lost in your mouth.

“H-honey, I’m gonna- oh my god!”

He finally falls back onto the bed, his hips hitting your mouth harshly once more as you felt spurts of his sweet, salty cum go down your throat. You tried to lick every last drop of him on your lips, but you had a better idea.

Andy slowly open his eyes, only to see you hovering over him, panting. You leaned in for another kiss, passionately taking in all of you while he came to senses to realise, he was tasting himself off of you.

Andy looked so beautiful, his face was flushed. A glow on his face like a boy getting laid for the first time. His eyes had that mild sparkle; you would do anything to get happiness in this man’s life now.

“You taste that bubba? That was you,” you kissed his neck and another sloppy kiss to his plump lips, “So sweet.”

“You’re a little minx momma bear” he panted too, rolling over to nuzzle in your neck, “I never knew you had it in you.”

“Neither did I, I just wanted to take care of you okay. You looked like you could use a uhm- you know-“

“An Orgasm?”

“Yeah.” Both of you giggled like teenagers while later as Andy pecked more needy kisses on your neck.

“I want to return the favour, Honey.”

Oh, you would gladly accept him jumping into you, but you weren’t cruel. The man was literally tired. “But you look so tired Andy,” you cupped his cheeks again, ruffling your hands into his hair, “My orgasm can wait.”

“B-but"

“No buts mister. You did so much work today. You help me set up Nikolai’s whole room and you never even let me help you. This was all about you okay? I can’t see you with a frown on your face Andy. I really lo-like you a lot okay?”

"You hurting me honey,” he leaned closer to whisper sweet nothings, “I really like you too and that’s why I wanna make it up to you, now.”

“Sleep next to me today?” you trailed his hands over his exposed chest.

“Say no more.” You gasped as Andy lifted you over shoulders, spanking your soft peach. He gently made you sit down on your bed and helped you change into your nightwear, which was his very same blue sweater you wore that day.

That night you realised you would never cease to make his life brighter.

You spooned Andy as you both exchanged good night kisses. He was delighted, he was in the arms of a woman who was way out of his league. He slept that night peacefully knowing that he finally has someone to take care of him now. –

The very next Monday morning, Andy and you woke up to the sound of the calling bell, realising it was Chad dropping off Nikolai before he heads off to work. Andy was gleeful as he strode towards the door, excited about what happened last night. “Yaay! Wandi!” Niko literally jumped from his father’s hand to Andy’s shoulder, hugging his mother’s new pwince tightly as ever.

“Hey buddy, glad to have you back.”

Niko then goes running into his house, to his mother by the kitchen counter. You hugged your boy and held him in your arms, unbeknownst to you the ugly conversation that was going to follow

“It’s you from the library,” Chad eyed him like a piece of meat noticing he was not wearing his shirt.

You observed from afar. He was nothing compared to Andy. Your boyfriend’s muscles had more personality that your son’s father. “Yes and you must be Chad, Y/N’s ex-husband.” “And you must be Andrew Barber. Father of the dead Jacob Barber.” “You are a fucking son of a-” You quickly put Nikolai down and asked him to go to his room. Andy wanted to throw this man over your porch and slam his head with a metal pan. But you beat him to it as he saw you holding Chad by the collar. “How dare you? Don’t you fucking DARE say a word about him, DO YOU GET IT?” Andy tried and successfully held on to you know, deeply terrified of how you were shouting.

“You’re wearing his clothes,” he snarked “You fucking any guy that lives next to you now?“

Smack!

You slapped him hard. So hard he had a red imprint on his cheek. You waited for a second for him to open his mouth as an excuse to slap his other cheek again. Andy pulled you back now, “Sweetheart it’s not worth it. It’s okay.”

“You don’t even know anything about him Y/N,” he straightened up himself. “I may be a cheater, but I am not born a murderer.”

Andy left his grip from your arms, feeling him slowly move away inside your house.

“What?”

"Did you know his father in jail? Bloody Billy Barber? For murdering a girl?”

You felt your heart feeling heavy. “N-no.”

“Oh jolly, good luck processing that! By the way, Sasha my girlfriend and I are going on a vacation for a couple of weeks so, Nikolai will not be coming- “

You weren’t listening to him because you shut the door on his face. You slowly processed what you had heard. You never pressed Andy because you respected his choice. His words.

“Is this true Andy?”

You earned a small nod from his burried face in his own hands.

How could you forget? It was one of your best nights. You never doubted him and even after hearing this, you really didnt.

You both were really drunk that night (every night of the week actually), rolling on the bed with each other naked. "I have a lot more skeletons in my closet than you think Y/N.”

“Have you cheated on anyone?”

“No”

“Have you stolen monies?”

“No, you silly” “Have you killed anyone?” Andy giggled and said “No!“ He smacked your forehead. "Then consider that closet empty. I like you, this Andy Barber, not the Newton County’s DA. The hot swimming instructor who hates Speedos and loves backrubs.” By the time you could process this information, Andy got up and gently grabbed you by your shoulders, his watery eyes doing no job of his distress. “Andy listen to me okay. Wait-” “I wanna stay alone for a couple of days okay? I want to apologize if I feel like I’m abandoning you. I-I am not though…” “Bubba we can talk about this.” You pleaded him, cupping his cheek. “Just talk to me bubba please.” “No, I don’t think so Y/N. I can order take out okay. Don’t wait for dinner night for me. Thanks for last night. I’ll never forget it.” He places a quick kiss on your forehead only to leave in a hurry. “I still like you okay.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You didn’t like how this was going.

You processed it. Andy’s father was a murderer, not Andy himself.

If Andy wasn’t going to process that, you would do that for him too.

You would do anything to get happiness in this man’s life now.

–

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years ago

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Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Ticket Please?

Summary- 4.2k Curtis Everett x You. Your boyfriend got you tickets to a charity Haunted House, and the special features include immersed scenes from the movie of your choice. Once you hear that the one and only Curtis Everett from Snowpiercer is a part of the choices, you just have to go. Prepare for a night of apocalyptic fun!

Warnings- Blood/Gore, brutal killings, swears.

A/N- Written for @jtargaryen18 Haunted House 2020. This is a 3 chapter story that will be posted within a few days of one another. Be sure to read the warnings for each chapter. The page dividers were made by @firefly-graphics , I highly suggest checking out her work, its really excellent and a bit of everything to choose from. The manor described in this story, Rose Red, is a piece of work from Stephen King, and I highly suggest watching the tv mini series, if you can find it. Perfect for this time of year. Special thanks to @what-is-your-plan-today for being my Beta in this project. Happy Reading and Haunting! 😈🎃

“What do you mean Bryce that you can’t come? You promised you would! When is New York State ever going to open Rose Red to be explored like this again Bryce?” You spoke into your cell phone while looking in the mirror, currently doing a french braid to keep your hair out of your face. Your expression reflected back at you was a mixture of fury and disbelief. You had only been talking about this charity for 6 months, and here was your boyfriend backing out after he’d promised to come with you numerous times.

“Something came up with Maya, okay? You know my sister can’t do anything without fucking it up. Besides it's just a house”

“Bryce, don’t talk about your sister that way.” You sighed exasperatedly before your voice dropped slightly conveying your disappointment “And it's not just a house, it's just the most haunted manor and grounds in New York. They had it condemned supposedly just for that reason! You really can’t come?”

“You know that shit isn't real. Sorry Baby, but why don’t you take one of your friends? How about that Karen chick?”

You gave a sigh and roll of the eyes, Bryce never bothered to get to know any of your friends, not like you did with his friends. “You mean Stacey? Her name isn’t Karen.”

“Well, she’s like a Karen.” He retorted with a condescending tone.

“Whatever Bryce, I’m hanging up now.” you snapped out, he was being an ass especially considering this entire night had actually started out as a treat to him from you.

“Hey, Hey, I was kidding. Take Stacey. You know I wouldn’t be any fun, I never liked Snowpiercer, remember?”

“That’s not the point Bryce…” you sighed again.

“Look, go have fun with Stacey, and tomorrow morning I will pick you up, we can go for a drive down the coast, just the two of us. Maybe have a long weekend in Hampton. How does that sound? I will even take you to that hotel you like. That one right on the beach with the view we stayed at last summer. We had fun there, didn’t we Sweetness.” now his tone was a hint of teasing and promise, and although you were still mad that he ditched you again, you felt a warmth bloom in your chest that he was trying to make it right.

You bit your lip remembering, it had been a fantastic vacation, and Bryce really showed you a good time without ever having to leave the room. At your silence he gave a chuckle of triumph. “That’s what I thought, I'm gonna call them right now. Have fun tonight baby.”

“Okay, but you better be here bright and early Bryce. Love-” Before you could even say the words, he hung up, and you hit the end call button, trying to get over the feeling of disappointment before you called Stacey. You could already hear what she would say, but as your best friend, she would be there. She always was. Dialing her number, you pulled out the tickets from your purse, allowing yourself a smile.

What could you say, you were a fangirl. Snowpiercer was such an intricate dark story, you had fallen in love with it the first time you watched it on Netflix. So when Bryce mentioned his grandfather was helping sponsor a haunted house charity at the town's resident creepy manor, and it was featuring several film sets. Including none other than Snowpiercer, you just had to have all the details. It even went as far as Bryce having his grandfather putting in a good word of how much of a fan you were to get you in. You scrimped and saved, Bryce as well helped you with paying for the tickets. You had really wanted to do this with him too. No, he didn’t share your love for the story, but he was your boyfriend and Halloween was your favorite holiday. It was something you two could have shared.

Oh well, next year we will do what he wants to do, you thought to yourself waiting for Stacey to pick up her phone.

A familiar voice answered, jerking you from your thoughts. “What’s up? I thought you would have already left for the charity function?” Stacey questioned.

“Slight change of plans, something came up with Maya, and Bryce can’t make it.”

“Big surprise.” the answer made you wince, cause this wasn’t the first time you called Stacey about Bryce. “You want some company? I can be ready by the time you get here?”

“Please?” you already had your purse over your shoulder and were heading out the door as she answered.

“Don’t worry girl, I got you. See you in a few.”

The line to get into the grounds was long, cars piled up as the two of you pulled to a stop. Stacey leaned forward to look out the windshield, giving a soft whistle. “Damn, they pulled out all the stops for this charity, didn’t they? Isn’t that the Rose Red Manor?”

“Yea, they were able to get it for the night from the Governor. Pretty crazy since this place has been condemned, they were supposed to demolish it back when Ellen Rimbauer’s grandson sold it to New York. You know the stories here, don’t you? Men die, Women disappear never to be seen again. The house somehow has random room built on out of nowhere. No one actually knows how many rooms Rose Red has, and the grounds are much larger then the records state.” You let your foot off the brake, easing forward.

“Shut up, that’s not true.” Stacey gave a shudder and you laughed, winking in a teasing manner. “How does a house keep getting bigger? I say bullshit.”

“It’s all just for spooks, the place is safe or else they wouldn’t let us on the grounds.”

“If I die Y/N, I’m haunting you.” Stacey jibed back, pulling up to the concession stand, and you rolled down your window.

“How many, and what set are you here to visit?” a tired voice sounded at you while you pulled the tickets out of your purse and handed them out the window.

“2, for the Snowpiercer, Curtis Everett set.”

The redhead took your tickets, her green eyes flickering to check them before she gave a slight smirk of perfectly painted ruby lips. She leaned forward, to look into the car. “Curtis Everett you say? A personal favorite of mine, the set reminds me a bit of home.” Your eyes flickered to her name tag, reading Natasha Romanoff, it sounded Russian, where it is assumed the train derailed at the end of the film. “Curtis is a bit intimidating, but don’t get scared, it's all a part of the show.” She stamped your tickets and collected bracelets, handing them back to you which you and Stacey both snapped onto your wrists. “Enjoy, and make sure you have those tickets on you. The Wilford on set will be looking to collect them. Bozhe, pomiluy tebya.” God have mercy on you.

Your brows came together in confusion at the foreign launguage and gave a nod. “Thanks?”

The woman smiled and snapped her window shut, ending the conversation. Pulling the car away to continue to park, Stacy wrinkled her nose. “What was that about?”

“You got me. I don’t even know what language that was, I’m guessing Russian?” You watch and follow the people directing you to park and are soon in your designated spot. “Whatever, you ready?” The uneasiness slipped away as you got excited, cause lets face it, Curtis Everett had been a crush for you since you saw the movie. And now you were going to see him, well the actor in the role, once again. From what you could tell this charity was an a-list kind of deal, cause after hours of scouring online, you found nothing talking about Chris Evans doing this function. Maybe Bryce was good for something, you thought as you got out of the car, and then chided yourself for being so cruel to your boyfriend. After all, if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be seeing Curtis or the Snowpiercer set. While you two were walking, apparently the last ones in the queue, you pulled out your phone to send him a message.

Hey, Stacey, and I just got here. Miss you and Love you.

It wasn’t even a few minutes till your phone pinged back

Have a good time and don’t get too scared.

Smiling to yourself at the glowing screen, you stuffed your phone back in your purse and proceeded towards the front where you showed your bracelets.

“Ahh Snowpiercer, you actually go around back. Follow me.” Your host said as he led you around the side of the building, away from the last of the people disappearing inside.

“We're not going into the house?” you couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the idea, it was supposedly one of the most famous haunted houses in New York State. The well-dressed host turned, looking at you for a moment before putting on a suave smile.

“Since you are special guests, I’ll wait for you after your tour with Curtis Everett on Snowpiercer. Give you a proper tour of Rose Red. But I assure you, that you’re in for a better treat, this is a truly exclusive walk though as hardly anyone gets to explore this much of Rose Red. Did you know that Ellen Rimbauer also had a private train on the grounds? It’s not documented as extensively as the house is, but many strange occurrences have happened here as well. It’s rumored that a single match light can be seen running up and down the aisles. Workers will be glimpsed from the corner of your eye in the darkest shadows. The ones that have visited the train claim to feel extensive chills, and in the engine, ramblings and whispers of madness can be heard. Most assume it's the conductor, looking for his replacement.” Your host continued, while out of the darkness a massive ominous train loomed, vines all over it, and it almost had a skeletal appearance as windows were busted out of it, and it looked pitch black in all the openings.

“The workers used the train to bring in materials from the harbor to the construction site. And in 1903, a riot happened on the train, the crew claimed that they weren’t being compensated for the conditions, and they demanded better wages. When W. Rimbauer refused them, they put a stop to the train for good. Resulting in many deaths.” Your host led you to the front car, in which a pale man stood with a lantern and a single red rose he was twirling in his fingers, and upon seeing the trio of you, he promptly slipped the delicate flower into his robe and smoothed down his outfit. Giving a wave, he stepped down and you noticed that oddly he was wearing what looked like a luxurious robe, his bald head shining in the glow of the lamp. The more you studied him, the more you thought he looked exactly like Ed Harris in his Wilford role. You were about to ask, when he interrupted you with his own question to the host.

“Blackwood, this the Curtis couple? We were a bit worried you wouldn’t show up tonight. Which is a shame, as Curtis has been waiting for you.” He seemed to direct his answer solely at you, his pale blue eyes glinting gleefully at you, it was the only way you could describe it, but they still sent a shiver down your back. Ed Harris or not, he was a good Wilford, you thought to yourself as you tried not to let his act give you the creeps. Stacey pulled in closer to you, hooking her arm through yours and whispering.

“You sure we should go on this train? It’s pretty fucking creepy back here. And where is everyone else?”

Blackwood cleared his throat with a smile. “Now ladies, the Curtis scene was very exclusive. In fact, only you two were able to get tickets. Seeing how it’s away from the main house. But I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of Wilford here as I must return for the next group. I will be back soon to give you a house tour afterward. You ladies enjoy the fully immersed experience.”

Your host left you with Wilford, who lifted his lamp to show a path that led down the side of the train. “It’s just a way down here, Curtis will meet you inside, and take you on the tour of Snowpiercer. Now, remember, he will not be breaking character as is per his instructions. We want this to be as authentic as possible.”

You and Stacey follow along behind his seemingly smooth stride, both of you tripping up a bit although Wilford seemed to have no issues with the uneven ground. Both of you were panting a bit when he came to a stop, and held a hand up to a ladder, leading into the darkest opening you’ve ever seen.

“There are no lights inside?” You drawled out and Stacey braced her hand against the train to catch her breath.

“How the hell are we supposed to see? And climb in with heels? No one told us that this was going to be an expedition just to see a movie set.” the woman snapped out, and Wilford turned that gaze from you to Stacey, giving a cold smile.

“It will all come on once you're inside, everything is in its preordained place in Snowpiercer and we are allowing you to really see it all come to life. But before you two go on, can I have your tickets please? No one goes onto the snowpiercer without one.” His grin turned eerie in the shadows on the lantern he had brought with him, and you were quick to look away from it,

Fuck he is weird. You shudder, while searching your bag and handing over both tickets. He immediately put them in his robe and held the lantern up so you could see a bit better to get inside. Grasping the ladder, you start to climb in, Stacey following right behind, holding onto the back of your shirt. One you stumbled in, and Stacey did too, you both turned to look back out, expecting Wilford to follow you in, but the door slammed shut, and a shudder went through the train, hard enough so you both yelped, falling into each other.

“Y/N! What the fuck is this? We have to get out of here.” You could feel Stacey digging into your arms in a panic, and you stumbled back to where the door was, your hands slamming against freezing cold metal, your palms pounding on the vibrating metal.

“Why is it vibrating? WHY IS THE TRAIN MOVING?” You started to yell, and Stacey moved up next to you, also slamming her palms against the metal walls. Blinding light made you both yelp and cover your eyes, stumbling to land in a heap when you pulled your arm away from your face, blinking to get your pupils to focus. It was an empty train cart, windows that appeared to be filled with bright natural light lined the walls, and at each end, metal doors that have yet to be opened. Stacey takes the first tentative moves to stand up, pulling herself to look out a window and her eyes widened in disbelief.

“What is it?” You ask as you start to push yourself up to a stand, and she shakes her head as if to shake whatever she was seeing away, muttering over and over.

“What the fuck?”

You make your way over, and all you can see is snow. Snow and ice, speeding past like this train were actually able to run on a track. Buildings encased in snow, making way to nothing but white, everywhere. Even the windows had frost encasing around the edges, your breaths fogging the glass.

“How? What?” you question, beyond confused and rubbing at your face to look again. How the hell could this be? You go to reach in your bag for your phone, and look down to see it is gone. And not just your phone, your bag. Scanning the train, there was no sign of it. Panic settled in a little more now that you didn't have a way to call for help should you need it.

Stacey pressed her fingers to the glass, her tone a bit shrill as if she was trying to convince herself it was make believe. “Gotta be like we're watching a screen right? Just supposed to look like the trains moving.” Although the train gave another shudder, swaying back and forth.

You never got an answer, as one end the doors swung open and people wearing all black spilled into the train, all carrying axes, faces masked so you couldn’t see anything discernible about them. Except for flashing teeth among happy grins. Each one hefting their ax like it was a toy. Your confused addled brain screamed at you to pay attention. Danger. But you were in too much of a shock to really focus.

Another whoosh and you spin around to see who was coming out the other side, Stacey whimpering in fear next to you, still staring at the first group. But your eyes raked over these men, dirty and worn looking. The one in front had a wide stance, his feet braced against the rocking of the train like he was familiar with it. A black trench coat swept around him, ragged sweaters piled over a broad chest and your gaze fell onto a familiar hard face, scanning his opponent, drawing himself into a more fighting stance. Curtis Everett.

“Oh shit” it dawns on you what scene this was and you draw Stacey closer to you, and back against a wall.

“What? Oh god, I don’t understand what is happening.” Stacey said in a panicked voice, and you shook her a bit.

“I don’t know either, but stay out of everyone’s way, okay? Those axes are not fakes!” The weapons they held were clearly not props, the heavy blade handles slapped in palms, and gleamed in the winter sun streaming through the windows. A touch would easily slice into anything. And these two groups look ready to hack into each other.

“Shouldn’t they help us get out?” Stacey’s eyes rolled wildly, and you gulped, seeing the large trout get passed up, and just as you guessed, the ax easily sliced into the fish’s flesh, drizzling blood down to see along the edge, dripping down the handle and to the floor.

“I don't think so Stace…” You whipped back to look at the opposing group, feeling Curtis’s gaze seeking yours with a glimmer of hatred and confusion behind them. For half a second, then it was back on their enemies. You could see it, the taunting lunges each group made, and just when they both broke for each other, you screamed and yanked Stacey down onto the ground as they all collided. Attempting to avoid stomping feet and falling blades, you two tried to stick to the wall, screaming and covering your heads, blood splattering everywhere above you in hot sticky sprays that rained down on your two.

Stacey wouldn’t stop screaming, her voice piercing above the noise of the fighting, bodies started to litter the floor, and you tried to make your way towards one of the exits, your hands and knees slipping in warm fluid. Over bodies you dragged yourself when Stacey’s screaming changed to one of pain and panic. Looking over your shoulder, she was getting dragged away by her ankles, her fingers trying to find a hold in the floor, nails raking through the blood to create long rakes through all the red.

“Y/N! Y/N! Help!” she continued to scream, and you twisted to go back for her when she was whipped to her back and her arms came up in defense, trying to cover her face or neck.

“No!”

Whump! This is when you lost all your control and started to scramble back for her. There was so much screaming and you never realized it was coming from you.

Whump! The ax planted in Stacey’s chest and she jerked upwards, trying to push the blade away, and the militants foot planted on her stomach, yanking her loose. You would still see her moving, still alive. You were closer.

Whump! this one landed on her skull, blonde hair turning stringy red and his boot planted on her face this time, crushing in her forehead and nose as he yanked it out, once more red spray flew through the air.

Several whacks fell on her, over and over, spraying you with each yank the axe gave off Stacey's body, the militant man grinning as her blood sprayed all over him, you, any nearby person.

You were in shock, your hands to your mouth, as you saw Stacy's body collapse into broken pieces, blood spurting out of her mouth and she went limp right in front of you. His gaze fell to you and his wide bloody grin looked like he just won the prize, his axe lifting when he was suddenly thrown back and slaughtered himself. You didn't pay attention to who took him out, only catching sight of a whipping coat snapping in the person's actions, you turned towards your best friend's body, convinced she might still be alive. This was all just for fun, pretend after all, right? Snowpiercer and the Revolution did not exist.

“Sss-Stacey?” you crawled over to her, your hands cupping her broken face and leaning over her still warm form, doing your best to hold what remained of her face together, as if you could just piece it back together like a puzzle. You kept shaking her, although she had several gaping holes in her body.

“Come on Stacey, we got to move.” you sobbed over her, unaware once more of what was going on.

You didn’t notice the fighting stop or the survivors rush to look out the windows in a panic, but you did feel a hand yank the back of your shirt to slam you into the wall and keep you pinned in place. Even as you struggled to get back to Stacey’s body, lying lifeless. You didn’t notice any of these things till a growl snarled in your ear. “Girl, stop it! What’s wrong with you?” A vicious shake thudded your head against the wall, and the crack against the back of your skull made your eyes roll back in pain. The world tipped upside down, Curtis’s scowling cut face tipped around, and you went under, the blackness welcomed from the hell you just experienced.

“Hey Curtis, she’s awake.” was the first thing you heard, your head pounding and when you started to pry your lids open, figures were blurry, moving around, flashes of light blinding you till they were blocked back out by bodies. You gave a moan and lifted your hand to your face when the larger one slapped it away, and the cold slick hand grasped your throat, dragging you forward. “Focus Bitch, we don’t have all day.” Your eyes snapped obediently to Curtis, fearful and wide-eyed as you took him in.

In the movie, he was large, towering over others. Here, as he was staring you down, face contorted to semi-controlled rage, and leaning over you so you could feel his hot breath wash over his face, how the blood dried to crack along his cheek, and eyes that you swore were debating snapping your neck.

“I don’t understand what is going-”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not asking questions here. Wilford sent you?”

“Wilford? Yes, yes.” You stutter, his fingers squeeze further and you can feel the hot tears streaming down your face, landing on his filthy hands. “He put Stacey and I in here, m-m-my friend. She was…” Your eyes rolled to where her body was twisted strangely, smeared in gore from where she slid around, or someone tripped over her. All you knew is her eyes started up at nothing now. Her wounds were gaping and bled out.

Curtis gave you a shake, his snarl brought you back to him. “She was what? What did Wilford send you two back here for?”

“We were here for a charity! I was supposed to meet Chris Evans, You as Curtis Everett.” your voice started to rise in a panic, your hands grasping his wrist at your neck. “That’s it, why is the train moving? Why are you all using real axes, fuck I just want to get off.” You sobbed, the survivors looked at you with disgust, shaking their heads.

“Once you’re on the Snowpiercer, there is no getting off.” Curtis leaned back a bit, looking you up and down as if inspecting you curiously. “You’re such a fragile little thing. Just like a baby bird, all brittle bones and helpless.”

“No getting off? What are you even talking about?” your tears started to sting your eyes, the panic settling deep in your chest like your heart was about to explode.

Curtis ignored your question, his free hand tugging at your thin sweater and shaking his head. “Fucker didn’t even send you back here properly dressed.”

You tried to struggle and Curtis slammed you back hard enough to make you stop.

“She’s fucking whacked out of her gourd. Gotta be a kronole head someone spouting that shit.” A young man said behind Curtis, and he got in your face, tapping your cheek smartly. “Girl snap out of it, that shite fucking rotted your brain.”

“No Edgar, this is different, she's lying. Good at it, but lying.” Curtis made to stand, dragging you up with him. You stumble in his hold, falling against his body before he dragged you along, hissing in your ear.

“I don’t know what Wilford was thinking Little Bird, sending you back to me with this innocent act of yours. But don’t worry I will make you sing.”

#jshauntedhouse2020 #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #snowpiercer #curtis everett fanfic #snowpiercer fanfic #dark curtis everett #amber writes #sweater writes #halloween 2020 #halloween #fanfic

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lesbian-deadpool · 4 years ago

Text

Roses In A Storm

Part Two Of Three: One Last Mission.

Prelude | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 4,203

Warnings: Umm... ha ha... ha. Anger, sadness, crying, grief (duh), betrayal ig, alcoholism/alcohol addiction, talk of dead bodies, threats... think that’s it...

Request: All you fuckers lol.

Summary: Sent to somewhere new. You discover something shocking.

A/N: I’m sorry?? (Just bullshitting my way through this, if I’m honest lol)

Ko-Fi

(Not my GIF)

***

"Gah!" you panted while you glanced around.

You were in some sort of house. It looked old, vintage old. But hey, at least the chair you were sitting on was somewhat comfortable.

"Well... I'm glad you finally decided to hear me out."

You yelled out in shock again, snapping your attention in front of you. And there you saw, Steven Strange.

Then you remembered why you were here in the first place.

"You wanted to talk to me about Natasha?"

"I want to talk to you about many things," he replied.

"Don't be cryptic."

He looked to the side, then back to you.

"As you know I saw fourteen-million six-hundred and five different futures..."

"Yeah, and we only won one of them. Yada. Yada. Yada. You're like a broken fucking record, with that shit," you snapped, "Get to the point."

Strange watched you for a moment, his eyes squinting slightly.

"Do you want a drink?"

"I-!" You stopped yourself from yelling. "Fine. I'll have a whisky."

"I think you've had enough. There's tea, coffee, or water. "

"Fine, coffee! It doesn't matter!" you yelled, "Now, say what you know about Natasha."

"We're not done yet."

"Enough with this cryptic shit!"

You looked down to your hand, where you were suddenly holding a steaming cup of coffee, just how you liked it.

"How in the...?" you whispered, mostly to yourself.

"Y/N." Your attention was brought back to strange. "I would love to tell you. I don't like to see you like this-"

"You don't know me."

"But still..." he said, "It's not good."

"You have no-" taking a breath, you began again, "Why am I here? What did you want to say to me?"

"I can't tell you. Or it won't happen."

"Ha!" you laughed sarcastically, "Like you'd jinx it-?" A brightness caught your eye in that moment, drawing your eyes over to it. "Is that the sun?" you asked pointing at the long window.

When had the sun risen?

"Yes, it is. Pay attention," Stephen told you, bringing your attention back to him, "Anyway, I wouldn't really put it that way. But yes. I would, "jinx it"."

"God," you breathed, shaking your head, eyes locked onto the ceiling, "This is madness."

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?"

"So, what? You wanted to talk to me? But you can't talk to me?"

"Well, not necessarily. No."

You sighted out of frustration, "So, what is it then?"

He sighed, leaning back slightly in his chair, as he rubbed two of his fingers and his thumb together.

"It's hard, for me to explain," he uttered slowly.

"Then try," you grit out. Your free hand, making a fist, while you brought up the steaming mug, for a sip. Then placing it onto the table, by your side.

"When I saw the future's," he began, "When I saw this future. I didn't just see us winning the battle. I saw all of it... until the end."

"The end of what? Time? The world? What?"

He chuckled softly. Shaking his head, he began, "No. None of that. You think that the end is us winning the battle. Defeating Thanos and his army. But it's not," Stephen paused, a far-off look overtaking him, "That was only half of the journey. We paused for a while there. To grieve-" You inhaled deeply, fighting he tears from forming in your eyes, for your lost friends. Lost love that never got the chance to bloom.

"-Regain our senses. Just breathe-"

"Breathe?!" you yell, the tears you had been trying so hard to fight off, welling up in your eyes, causing your vision to blur. "You think I've been breathing?!"

The chair you sat on scraped harshly against the floor, as you stood abruptly. Hand's balling into fists, so hard that you could see the whites of your bones through them.

"Every waking moment feels like I'm suffocating!" You did nothing to wipe away your slowly falling tears. You just continued to yell. "Everything that I did and didn't do, everything I could have done. Every. Fucking. Moment. I lost one of my best friends." You took a shuddering breath. "But, worst of all, I lost someone I loved- Love!" You corrected yourself, "With my whole heart. And I never even got the chance to be with her."

Stephen stayed quiet, sensing that there was more for you to say.

And there was.

"Because I was fucking oblivious- And fucking blind to see what was right in front of me, before. And now, because she's at the bottom of a fucking cliff," you cried, "And no one will let me go back to when she- She... y'know." You gestured around, unable to say the word you were thinking. But you knew Stephen understood you. He'd have to be a fucking idiot not too. "To get her fucking body."

You stood there. Just staring into each other's eyes. The pity in Stephen's eyes almost made you sick. Because you knew. You knew you were bearing your soul to him. Showing him everything that you had been feeling. If you were in his position, you would be filled with pity for the other person, too.

But it still made you sick.

You didn't want his pity.

You knew what you wanted. But you were smart enough to know that you were never gonna get it.

Yet... you carried on speaking. Because now that you had started, you couldn't stop.

"We had to bury an empty casket because of it. And everybody just seemed fine-! They were a-o-fucking-k with it! They were perfectly fine with leaving her body at the bottom of a cliff, to rot!" you roared out the last couple of words.

"They did that because I told them too," Stephen confessed.

You paused where you stood. Mind going blank. Just left processing his words. You had more to say. You had multiple essays worth of words, to say. And yet, you were no longer able to utter them.

Slowly. You turned your head to face him.

"You what?"

You could see the fear quickly flash through his eyes, before it disappeared, as you took a step closer to him.

He speedily made you pause with his words, again.

"I did it because her body wasn't there anymore."

"What?" you asked breathless and confused, "Where did she go?!"

"The moment that her heart made its last beat was the same moment that Barton was transported somewhere else, and the stone was in his hand. Her body vanished. She was moved to the stone."

"Wait." You raised your hands up to pause the powered man. Feeling like the air was knocked out of you. "So. So, you're telling me that she was in the stone?!"

"Yes. I am."

"How are you coming up with this bullshit?!"

"I have a very reliable source."

"Who-? I swear if you say "God" or "Jesus", or some shit, I'll throw you through the fucking window!" you yell, pointing to the long window behind you.

"No," he scoffed, with a slight 'ugh', "I'm not a man of religion."

"Then who then?"

"They don't wish to be known."

"Is it you? I bet it's just you, and you're making all of this shit up!"

"No, it's not me." He shook his head. "And none of this is made up."

Putting your palms to your forehead, you laughed, feeling like you were losing your mind, as you dropped back down into your chair.

"This is fucking insane. This is unbelievable, Strange. This shit is not possible!"

"Y/N," Stephen started, crossing one leg over the other, as he leaned forward in his seat slightly, "You worked on a team with a man who could transform into a giant green beast. Who is now both that man and giant green beast. You also worked with a man who was frozen for seventy years, a man who invented a flying suit, and a God. Then, later on, were teammates- And friends with a witch. You helped stop an alien invasion and another God. You battled against a literal mad titan. And eventually won. You have recently made friends with a man who can regrow his limbs, and have met the X-Men. Also, you are sitting here, talking to me. That, amongst many other things, I have not even mentioned," he rattled off, making you fee stupider with each and every one. Almost like the blindfold had been removed from your eyes. "Do you really think that your lost love being transported into a stone is really that crazy?"

"Well, I guess when you put it that way. Not really, no."

"So," he said slowly, leaning back, and weaving his fingers together, "As I was saying before. We have had enough time, to breathe- Or in your case, suffocate- And drink." You flipped him off for that. "Now it's time to get back to work."

You scoffed, shaking your head, "I don't do that anymore. I don't work for SHIELD. I'm not an Avenger. I'm a fucking hitman."

"I don't work for SHIELD or The Avengers either." Strange raised his hands in some sort of a shrug. "I'm just helping them."

"Yeah, well, I don't "help" people, unless they pay me now," you said, putting 'help' into air-quotes.

"Fine." Stephen nodded once. Which surprised you, at how quickly he had given in. "I know that there's no way that I could change your mind. But I'm not saying that there isn't someone who can."

"Oh, yeah?" you scoffed again, "Who's that?"

"Why don't you see for yourself."

"What-?"

And then you were gone. Again.

Falling through another one of Strange's portals.

And to your next destination.

***

You landed, this time on your back. On the nature covered ground, not on a cushioned chair. Staring up at the pale blue sky, dappled with white clouds. Instead of the vintage filled room.

You didn't think you'd ever get used to those portals.

The previous ones you had experienced were instantaneous.

This one, however?

You were falling through the portal for around twenty minutes.

"That bastard," you muttered, still star-fished upon the ground, "Making me fall for twenty minutes, just because he couldn't convince me to go back to SHIELD." You took a deep breath of fresh air, exhaling it harshly, "I think I'll kick his ass."

Sighing, you pushed yourself to your feet, brushing the dirt off of yourself.

You looked at the scenery before you. Trees, that were slowly littering the ground with their dead leaves, surrounded you. A lake with a small pier to your left.

Fuck...

You knew where you were.

Bracing yourself with another deep breath, you turned to face the place you hadn't seen int the last few months.

The lake house.

Pepper and Morgan's, home.

No longer Tony’s.

Did Strange really think that they could convince you to go back to SHIELD?

Well... maybe Morgan could. With enough begging and puppy eyes... but you didn't plan on sticking around long enough for that.

"You've been standing there for almost five minutes," pepper said, opening the door, "Strange send you?"

"Yeah. He's a bastard."

She chuckled, moving her head to the side, indicating for you to come inside. Before disappearing into the home, herself. Leaving the door open for you.

You didn't know what made you walk inside. You could have easily walked away. But you didn't. It might have been Strange and the things he said. And the things he couldn't say. Whatever it was. You just had the feeling that you had to go inside of that house. For whatever reason.

The home was the same as the day you stormed out of it. The only real difference being that a few of Morgan's toys littered the living room.

Pepper smiled at you from the kitchen, cradling a cup of coffee, as you closed the door behind you. And Morgan was nowhere to be seen.

She seemed to be handling all this, a lot better than you were.

That. Or she was really good at hiding it.

Before you could start your awkward sentence, you heard someone walking up the basement stairs. They sounded way too heavy to be Morgan's.

Was Happy here?

He could be.

But when the man arrived at the top of the stairs, with little Morgan in his arms. You were proved wrong, in thinking it was Happy.

You store at the man before you. A cold, composed look on your face. Unable to say a thing. Just letting the knowledge of this resonate in your brain.

Sensing the tense atmosphere, suddenly filling up the cabin, Pepper quickly took Morgan from his arms and left the room.

Leaving you alone with the man.

Leaving you alone with Tony.

***

"So," the man spoke, raising his arms, one f them being flesh and the other made form the same metal as the Iron Man suits, "Ya gonna give me a hug?"

That made you snap from your cold state, just watching the billionaire. Filling your body with rage.

"You fucker," you hissed, stalking closer to him. But never close enough for him to even consider touching you.

"Woah there-"

"Don't "woah there" me! I'm not a fucking horse, that needs taming!"

"I never said that you were," Tony said, raising his hands in hopes of calming you down, at least somewhat.

His hopes were for nothing.

"How fucking dare you?" you spat through your teeth, "I thought you were dead!"

Tears began to fill his eyes, guilt at not telling you he was alive, welling up in his body. It made him feel like he was drowning in it.

"You died! You were dead!"

The anger, thundering inside of you like a wildfire, quickly diminishing. Now you were only filled with sadness and betrayal. Tears, tumbling down your cheeks in salty rivers.

"You were dead!" you sobbed, walking closer to the crying man, "And I needed you!"

It was like the dam had broke.

You had cried before.

Of course, you had.

For Natasha.

For Tony.

But never like this.

Sobs. Guttural and hard, raking pain throughout your chest and abdomen at the actions. Muffled only by Tony's shoulder, tears soaking into his shirt, as you gripped onto him tightly.

He held you as you cried, looking up, trying to stop his own tears from falling in the quick succession that they were. His chest, bouncing as he held in his own sobs.

"I needed you here, Tony. And you were gone." Was muffled against his shoulder. "But you were alive all along, you bastard!"

He chuckled wetly when you hit the shoulder of his now titanium-alloy arm, when the anger spiked in you randomly before it fell again.

Tony sniffled. "I know. And I'm so sorry, Y/N." He clutched you tighter against his body. "But if it makes you feel any better, no one but Fury and Strange know about me- Other than Pep and Morgan, that is."

Your laughs sounded so close to sobs that Tony had difficulty telling the difference. But when you pulled away from his shoulder after five straight minutes of crying rivers, with a small, wet -albeit quivering- smile on your face, he knew which one it had been.

"You're a fucking asshole, have I ever told you that before?" you asked, moving a step or two away from the close proximity of his body. As you wiped away your slowly stopping tears.

"Only around a thousand times before." Tony shrugged, with a cheeky smile on his face. Both of you beyond glad that your best friends could pull a chuckle from you, even in your darkest times.

Especially in your darkest times.

"So, you gonna explain to me what the fuck happened?" you asked, "You gonna tell me why that Strange guy sent me here?"

Shit.

Strange was right.

Tony was one of the only people in the world that could convince you to go back to work.

Fuck.

Tony shook his head, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

Before you could voice your question. Tony beat you to it.

"You're way too drunk," he told you, "It's better if you're sober and have a level head- Or as level, as it can be." He gave a half-smile. "Let's get some food into you, and get you some rest. Then when you wake up, we'll talk."

Yeah, he was right.

And you knew that. No matter how much you wanted to fight him on that.

Your emotions had left you worn. So, when you weren't blinded with anger and sadness, you finally remembered how drunk you had been before Fury had "sent" you to Strange.

Lightly swaying where you stood, you nodded to Tony. You could practically feel the way the whisky was fermenting inside of you. It dawned on you that you hadn't even been able to finish the coffee, Strange had magically given you.

Yeah, probably should have finished that.

Your billionaire best friend lead you away to the kitchen, pushing you onto one of the stools by the island, as he began preparing you a sandwich.

And for the first time n a long time. You felt, at least somewhat, content.

***

The sun had far past risen by the time you flopped onto the guest bed and passed out. What felt like the next second, you awoke. Almost twenty-four hours later, at eight A.M.. Sleepily wandering into the kitchen, while rubbing at your eyes.

"Hey, there's the sleepyhead!" Tony called out with a cheesy grin, which was wiped off of his face when you ploughed into him, bringing him into a suffocating hug.

With how intoxicated, worn-down, and sleep-deprived you had been the previous day, you assumed you had dreamed that Tony was, in fact, not dead.

And fuck were you thankful when you saw him standing there, alive and well.

Gently patting your back, Tony whispered to you, "It's okay, I'm here. I'm here."

"I'm sorry," you muttered, pulling away, "I thought it was a dream."

"It's okay."

Tony pat your shoulder, gesturing for you to take the seat beside Morgan, who was just finishing up here breakfast.

You wanted to ask him why you were there- Why Strange had sent you here.

And just generally what the entire fuck was going on.

But you knew that it wasn't the right time.

Not with the family Tony fought so hard for, in the same room.

So, it could wait.

You could eat the food, then ask him later.

After all, your stomach was rumbling for it.

"So, you ready to tell me what's going on?" you asked once you had finished eating your stack of pancakes. Thankful that Morgan was watching TV and Pepper was away taking a business call.

He sighed, placing both of his hands flat on the counter's surface, in front of you. Raising his head, looking into your eyes, he asked, "Basically?"

You said nothing. Just continued starring at him. To which Tony knew that he could continue.

"You've got to go back to work- Or at least work with everyone for a while."

"Why?"

"Well, cutting straight to the point. We can bring Natasha back. Strange hasn't told us how, but essentially that's what it is. He just can't tell us anything about it, or it won't happen. Which, if you ask me-"

"What?!"

Tony's words faded into the background noise, after he said, "we can bring Natasha back" causing you to retreat back into your mind. Before you suddenly snapped, cutting him off.

"What...?" Tony asked hesitantly.

"We can bring Natasha back?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't anyone tell me this before?!"

"We've been trying," Tony told you, "Hasn't Strange been trying to talk to you for months now?"

"Well, yes but- Why didn't Fury tell me this?! No! Instead, he had to go and, basically, send me on a wild goose chase!"

"It's Fury." He shrugged. "Technically I wasn't even allowed to tell you that. But hey, I figured it out. Strange never told me, so that's free game in my eyes."

"So, Fury doesn't even know?" you asked sceptically.

"He's probably figured it out. But no one's told him."

You sighed, slumping back into your stool. You already knew that this whole thing was going to exhaust you. Feeling it already seeping into your bones.

"Who else knows? Knows about Strange's "We're not done yet"?" you mimicked the wizard's words sarcastically, putting them in air-quotes.

He chuckled lightly. "No one. Just you, me, Fury, and Strange himself- Well, Fury's probably told Maria too, now that I think about it."

You hummed.

"So..." Tony said slowly, a knowing smirk on his face, "You gonna work with us, again?"

"Fine," you muttered, slightly grumpy that you had to do this. But you just kept reminding yourself that this was to get Natasha back. You could do this. And the fact that it made your best friend happy was just a bonus, "So. How do we get her back?"

"I don't know. We just have to do what Strange tells us."

You flung your head back in annoyance, "Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Yeah, I know. I feel the same way." Tony rolled his eyes, thinking of the cryptic wizard. "But he did say, "we're almost at the end of the journey"."

"God, that guy is like Dumbledore," you mumbled, a smile overtaking your face when your friend began to laugh.

Things were quiet for a short while after that.

That is until Tony broke it.

"Y/N?" Tony asked slowly, gaining your attention, "I need to talk to you about something serious."

"Okay..."

The worst thing began to fill your mind. Was Tony sick? Were you about to lose your best friend just when you had gotten him back? Or was it Pepper? Morgan? Was it something to do with the mission you were now a part of? Something about Natasha-?

"They told me." Fury and Strange.

"Told you what?"

"How bad you got."

You looked away, hoping that if you didn't look at Tony then maybe you wouldn't have to talk to him about it.

But that was not the case.

This was happening.

And it was happening now.

"When was the last time you were sober?"

"I'm sober now," you pointed out, before adding quietly, but not quite enough that you would stop Tony from hearing you, "Well, mostly."

"Y/N," he said firmly. Which he had only done a handful of times with you.

"I don't know," you said, looking him straight in the eyes now, "Before your funeral probably."

"Y/N, it's been six months. You're really telling me that you've been drunk throughout them?"

"I guess I am." You shrugged, lifting your hands up as you did.

"You've got a problem, Y/N."

"I know I do," you breathed, no longer able to look at him.

"You helped me," Tony spoke, and when you finally managed to peer back up at him, you could see the grateful tears in his eyes. So fucking thankful that you had helped him with his drinking problem in the past, "Now it's my turn to help you."

"Does that mean I have to go to rehab?" you groaned.

"Yes. Here." At your questioning look, Tony continued, raising his arms, in that true Tony Stark fashion. "This will be your rehab. And Pep, Morgan and I will be here to help you every step of the way."

"Do I even need to do this?" you sighed.

"Yes," he said firmly, before his voice softened, "We're just trying to get you back on your feet. You can't really get Nat back while drunk off your ass, can you? And I know that you wouldn't want Natasha to see you like this, would you?"

Shaking your head with a contorted face at his words, you realised just how much you wanted to get better. For yourself. For Natasha. And for everyone else in your life.

You want to get better.

You just needed that push.

That manipulation tactic that Tony would no doubt use.

"C'mon, Y/N." He knew you were expecting it. That much you could tell by the smile on his face. "Do it for me."

And there it was!

"Okay, fine! But you're not allowed to use that again, for like another- Three years!"

"Okay!"

Just as you were making your way off of the stool, you hastily pulled yourself back, to tell him one last thing.

"And if this is all for nothing. If Strange is just using us to help him with something. And we never get Natasha back, at "the end of the journey"," you said sarcastically, "I'm killing him, Fury, and I'm ripping that metal arm of yours off, and beating you with it."

"Okay, that's reasonable!"

And with that, you walked from the room. Intending to sleep off your fast approaching headache. With Tony shouting after you, "It's titanium-alloy, by the way!"

Fighting off the hope of getting Natasha back. Just in case all of this was bullshit.

But none the less, even if you hated the fact that you were doing it.

You thought about the first thing you would say to Natasha.

'I love you, too.'

***

(Cross out = Couldn't tag)

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#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

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mrsarnasdelicious · 4 years ago

Text

The First Time Stephen Colley Says ‘I Love You’

"Why'd you bring me here, Stephen?" You ask softly. "Don't you like it here?" He asks in return. "Yes, it is beautiful here, but you haven't said anything since we got off the train." You reply. "You'll see." Stephen whispers.

You've been with him for a good while now and he's gotten over most of his shyness. But here it is resurfacing. The raspberry fluster comes back to Stephen's cheek, it's been a few months since your last seen it. It makes him look so innocent. It is such a contradiction from what you have come to know about him. Because Stephen is far from innocent by now.

He leads you further into the woods. "The Bluebells are in bloom." He informs you. "That is lovely." You murmur in reply. You wonder why he says that.

"Come, sit down." He gestures to a full bed of Bluebells. You slowly oblige, sitting among the frail flowers. "My god ... you are like faery." He mutters. He sits down beside you. He presses a kiss behind your ear, like you taught him. "You make me happy, Y/N." He whispers. "And you me, Stephen." You reply.

"I ... I have a questions." Stephen stammers. His fluster spreads into his neck and high up on his ears. "You know you can ask me anything, you don't have to drag me into the woods for it." You gently stroke his cheek. "Well... yeah I wanted that.. I want this to be special." Stephen mutters. He pulls something out of his pocket. "I ... I was wondering ... If you would please .. Please marry me." He swallows thickly. It is evident he is afraid of your reaction. "I love you, I want you to be my wife." He says softly, as though he has to convince you. But he doesn't. Your mind is already made up.

"Yes, Stephen, of course I will marry you." You whisper.

You snuggle into his side. He puts an arm around you and open his closed fist, showing you a very modest ring, which looks like intertwined vines. "I made it myself." Stephen mutters. You hold out your hand. He gently puts the ring on your finger.

You lean closer. "I love you too, Stephen." You cooe.

#I queue it for you #Stephen Colley #Stephen Colley x Reader #I Capture The Castle #Henry Cavill

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

Burned Part 25

Summary: Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 25: The happy life of a little family together

Teddy Solomons’ first word, thankfully, was not ‘fuck’. Alfie was certain that if that word had slipped out of the baby’s mouth, he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as his wife ever again. What was more surprising was what he actually did say because Alfie certainly wasn't expecting it.

Alfie was entertaining the baby while Louise peacefully read in the parlor. He held Teddy up on his lap, making faces to make him laugh and shriek with glee. It amazed Alfie how easy it was to make Teddy happy. Sometimes all it took was crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue to make the baby erupt in a fit of giggles.

“Da!” Teddy squealed and reached to tug on Alfie’s beard, one of his favorite past times as of late.

Louise looked over the top of her book. “Did he just say what I think he said?” She perked up in surprise.

“Just gibberish.” Her husband shook his head and wrote it off as nothing. “Babbling on as usual, aye?” He teased and wiggled Teddy’s toes. "Speaking your own little language?"

He giggled and pulled a bit harder on his father's beard. “Dada!” He chirped again.

Louise stood up, setting her book aside, and walked over. “Alfie, he’s saying dada.” She insisted.

Alfie wasn’t sure how old children were when they took certain milestones. Ollie had given him an estimate but all of his kids ranged from early to late bloomers so it was hard to say for sure. Time seemed to pass by so fast as Teddy grew so it seemed far too early for the baby to be saying any intelligent words. “It’s an easy sound for him to make, I’m sure it’s just nonsense.”

“You don’t think he’s smart enough to be speaking yet?” She challenged and put her hands on her hips.

He made a face at her remark. “He’s me son, innit he? That means he’s fucking smart.” He asserted. “Ted, who’s that?” He tested out the theory by pointing at Louise. Teddy giggled and mimicked his father pointing but didn’t say anything.

“Who’s that, love?” Louise pointed back at Alfie.

“Dada!” He responded and beamed as if he knew exactly how substantial his first word was.

She looked smug with herself. “Told you.”

“I stand corrected then.” Alfie chuckled and gently patted Teddy on the back. Pride bloomed in his chest. He was his son's very first word. It made him feel more important than anything else he'd ever done in his life. “Fucking bright as can be, innit he?”

“Hush, you can’t swear around him anymore because he’ll start to pick up on it!” She reminded him. But it was hard to be stern, Louise was also pleased to hear Teddy address Alfie first. She wanted him to know how important he was to the little boy.

“Sorry, love. Right, gotta start biting my tongue.” He couldn’t get the great big smile off his face though and eventually just began to laugh. However, mid-way through, his chest seized and he erupted in a coughing fit.

It was hard to forget about their reality for too long. Although Alfie was in good spirits and was able to stay fairly active, there was always something reminding them of his cancer. The frequent headaches that never seemed to end. The deep ache he felt in his body every morning and every night. He became out of breath often and sometimes became light-headed from how severe his coughing fits were.

Louise picked up Teddy from his lap and sat him down on the rug for a moment. “It’s okay, try to breathe slowly.” She soothed

Alfie’s face turned red and stood up to walk out of the room, staggering a few steps. More often than not, his violent coughing upset Teddy and he couldn’t have that. He wasn't sure what his son would remember of him, but he certainly didn't want his only memories of him to be a coughing bout. Alfie walked into the foyer and put a hand on the stair railing to steady himself. After a painful few moments, he managed to get the coughing under control. He took a few wheezing breaths and looked up.

Louise stood in the doorway with Teddy in her arms. The little boy didn’t seem upset and merely toyed with his mother’s curls. “Okay?” She asked softly.

Alfie nodded and cleared his throat once more. “Sorry, love.”

“Don’t apologize.” She walked over and touched his cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for something beyond your control.” It made her ache knowing there was little to nothing she could do to ease his pain. She felt as if she were failing as a wife.

He smiled weakly and leaned into her touch. “Just wish you didn’t have to see me like that.”

She sat down on the stairs and gestured for him to sit beside her. Setting Teddy on his lap, she gently stroked her husband’s hair back. “Remember when I said I never wanted you to change? I want you just the way you are. This isn’t you but it’s something you’re fighting. You don’t need to try to shield me from the difficult parts. Whatever you’re fighting, I’m right there beside you.”

“Dada.” Teddy cooed and wrapped his little fingers around Alfie’s white shirt.

Alfie kissed the top of his son’s head and then his wife’s cheek. “Can’t imagine going through any of this without you two.” His voice was still ragged from coughing. “You keep me going.”

There was no telling how much time Alfie had left. Doctor Stephens said there was a good chance he’d have a few years but warned him to be wary of his health. But seeing Teddy make such milestones made Alfie happy and just a hint more optimistic than he had been before his birth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, a warm June evening, Alfie and Louise went for a walk. Teddy was fast asleep upstairs and would most likely be asleep a few hours before he woke up for a nappy change or to nurse.

Alfie was in a good deal of pain and tried to cope by walking through it. Most nights it was hard to just stay lying awake in bed. At least when he was walking outside he could forget about the pain and focus on something else other than the ceiling.

They walked along the grounds together, arm in arm with Alfie holding a lantern to light their usual path past the stables and around the pastures.

“Can’t believe it’s already summer,” Louise commented. The night was alive with all sorts of insects beginning their nightly symphony. A warm breeze kicked up the scent of the roses that were just beginning to bloom. It was heavenly and managed to distract them from everything even just for a little while.

“Can’t believe Teddy’ll be one in the fall.” He agreed. The year had passed by far too quickly in his eyes. It seemed only yesterday he was holding his son for the very first time after he was born.

“We’ll have to throw a party for him. Wouldn’t it be nice to have everyone over here? Some could stay for the weekend, his birthday’s on a Friday.” She smiled.

“That would be lovely, yeah. I mean for fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I’d last this long.” He admitted. “On borrowed time, ain’t I?”

“No,” She shook her head and reached for his hand, threading her fingers with his. “You’re here for a reason. We’re together for a reason and we’ve Teddy for a reason.” She murmured softly and squeezed his hand lightly. “I don’t know what the reason is but I won’t question it. You make me happy and I think that’s reason enough.”

He smiled and lifted her hand up to kiss her knuckles. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine going about his life without meeting Louise. He used to have some semblance of a master plan involving the bakery and his other various business ventures. He’d finally put Darby Sabini out of commission and rule a bigger piece of London. But with plans like that, he was sure he would never truly be satisfied. With Louise and Teddy, he had everything he needed. He didn’t need more from them; all he needed was to see their faces each and every day.

“Do you think I’m right?” Louise asked curiously.

“You’re my wife, you’re always right, love.” He grinned and stopped to kiss her.

“One day you’re going to wake up in Inglewood, next to your wife. Your son or daughter will run into the room to wake you up and beg for you to come and play with them.”

Louise was usually right; Alfie had learned that in both positive and negative ways. Alfie liked when she was right because it gave him a sort of comfort for the future. She reassured him that he would continue living and that he would be there to experience his son growing up. He saw Teddy’s first birthday, then his second, and was gearing up to see his third as well. He was there, kneeling on the ground, arms outstretched as Teddy took his first steps. He heard Teddy call Louise ‘mumma’. Heard him call Cyril, Cee-Cee. Watched him grow taller and start to walk and run without falling over.

Alfie felt so blessed and every morning he was reminded how great it was to wake up and find himself where he was. Louise was asleep beside him, her arm outstretched and hand lingering on his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~

That morning, Teddy came toddling into the room, going right for his father’s side of the bed. Alfie was always up before Louise was, mostly because of his previous habits of waking early for work and because of the ache in his body that kept him up. But he was never too tired for Teddy.

“Dada.” The little boy whispered, well aware that his mother was still sleeping.

“There you are, already awake?” Alfie reached over and scooped Teddy up, letting him sit on his chest. “Don’t want to sleep in, aye?”

“No.” He giggled and grabbed at his feet, pressing his heels together and rocking back and forth.

Alfie held him steady. “What’s on the agenda today, then?” He asked softly. “Take a drive somewhere?”

“Ponies!”

“Sh, sh, mumma’s still asleep.” He whispered and motioned for him to be quiet.

Teddy mimicked the finger to his lips and giggled. “Shhhhh…”

Louise turned over and began to stir.

“Uh oh, Ted, we’ve done it now.” Alfie grinned.

“What’ve you done?” She mumbled with her eyes still closed.

“Mummy!” Teddy squealed and wriggled off Alfie to greet her. He burrowed under the quilt and cuddled close to her. “Mumma, ponies.”

Louise yawned and wrapped her arms around her son, pulling him close to her chest like a little teddy bear. “It’s a bit early to see the ponies, love.” She murmured, still half asleep.

“Mumma, sleep,” Teddy whispered and placed a pudgy hand over her eyes.

She laughed softly and took his hand to kiss it. “Just for a little longer. Then we’ll have breakfast before going outside.” She promised.

Alfie leaned on his elbow to watch mother and son cuddle close. Such an undeniable bond that made him relieved. Even after he was gone, they would still have that connection. No matter what happened to him, they would both have each other long after he passed. “C’mere.” He murmured and drew them both close to him, wrapping them up in his arms as a protective cocoon. He could’ve remained in that moment forever and be eternally happy. Hearing both of their soft inhales and exhales, faintly feeling their heartbeats, and enveloped in their warmth. They were just a small speck in the world, a small bit of dust in the grand scheme of things. But at that moment, Alfie felt like he was embracing the entire world, holding it in his arms and keeping it safe. Because they were the only two things that mattered on the planet as far as he was concerned.

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fericita-s · 4 years ago

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The Bloom Is On The Rye

Her ring was still loose on her hand but it felt like hers now as she rested it on Henry’s shoulder and then gripped him tightly, urging him to kiss her again. She could feel his breath on her lips and his thumb just under her chin and the nearness of him was intoxicating, like she’d been drinking wine instead of eating berries all afternoon.

Emmry Forced Marriage Mercy Street/Oregon Trail crossover! Chapter 4 below, also on AO3

a continuation of In having new eyes by @jomiddlemarch and beta-ed into being better by @the-spaztic-fantastic. Thank you both for your contributions to this story!

They left Fort Kearney with ten yards of calico and ten yards of sheeting muslin, a dairy cow, new boots for Henry, and a dress that with only minor adjustments could be worn right away. Emma didn’t like to think about what might have befallen the woman it originally belonged to. She wasn’t the only one who had suffered hardship on the trail, but in many ways she was lucky. Henry was able to replenish what stores were waning and to add the supplies that feeding another person required. It became obvious at the trading outpost that others on the trail were selling off wares they had once treasured enough to take on a 2,000 mile trek, parlaying a cookstove or a piece of furniture into more flour or sugar or simply the promise of a lighter load and quicker travel.

As they drew closer to the North Platte River, Emma and Mary gathered serviceberry and gooseberry and chokeberry, staining their fingers purple and their lips and tongues too. Dr. Foster had heard of outbreaks of cholera around this heavily traveled area and warned them all to boil water before using it, an untested preventative measure he was nevertheless certain would help. That was a sweaty task, but the walks for berry gathering were a delight. They never ventured so far as to let the dust of the wagon train out of sight, but Emma could tell exactly when Henry spotted them returning from these excursions. Even from afar she knew the tight set of his shoulders, the way he stood at the front of the wagon, looking for them. The way his face broke into a grin at the sight of her and he jumped off the wagon in a fluid motion to coax the oxen with a “Come up, come up” as they plodded along.

They returned to camp with full stomachs and full baskets, enough that Dr. Foster declared them safe from scurvy and Mary spoke of making pies for everyone, even that horrible Silas Bullen who leered at everyone and hadn’t stopped complaining about leg cramps all day. When Silas began playing on his fiddle and Henry and Emma lingered over their fire with the Fosters nearby, Henry wiped a thumb across Emma’s lips and then leaned in to kiss her.

“Your lips are purple.” He spoke against her mouth, which made it feel less chaste than it started, the simple press of his lips against hers not unlike the one at their hurried wedding. Emma could hear Mrs. Brannon singing along to the mournful tune Silas was playing and it felt like a song just for them.

But meet me, meet me in the Ev'ning,

While the bloom is on the Rye.

But name the day, the wedding day,

And I will buy the ring.

The moon shines bright and clear;

Then pretty Jane, my dearest Jane,

Ah! never look so shy,

But meet me, meet me in the Ev'ning,

While the bloom is on the Rye.

Her mouth was open and she looked from his eyes to his mouth just as he formed the word “Emma.”

“Give her a flourish for me, young fella!” Silas shouted, his speech slurred by skullvarnish and the strings of his fiddle screeching to a halt. Mrs. Brannan shouted him down and he started playing again, mercifully, as Henry pulled Emma by the hand to their wagon. Once inside, he dropped her hand and took a step away from her.

“Why don't you?” She asked, trying to make it sound like a joke. She was angry with Silas for ruining a moment where it seemed Henry was finally looking at her in the way she wanted and now his eyes were on the floor, like he’d never look at her again. “If I'd have married him he would have done it.”

“That’s why,” Henry said, meeting her eyes and looking so solemn she thought of Jimmy’s name for him, Old Stone-Face. “If we did that, if I did that to you...I would be no better than him. And you deserve better than that.”

“You wouldn't be doing it to me. We would be doing it together.” If she was still in Alexandria she would have stamped her foot, but of course if she was there none of this would be happening. She was an expert in avoiding assignations not of interest and encouraging affection only when it wouldn’t ruin a reputation, but not how to convince her husband she wanted his touch. He swallowed and moved a bit closer, and she could see his face changing from stone to man once more.

“I didn’t want to eat the fruit too early. It would have made me sick. Both of us sick.” He cupped her cheek and she nestled into it eagerly, willing him to see her eagerness. “I thought we could fall in love. I could love you. I didn’t want you to be obligated or grateful, I wanted you to love me too. But if I took that - “ He trailed off, and Emma wasn’t surprised when the words he came back with were familiar ones from the Bible. He used it to speak for him so often, especially when he had no words of his own. “Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.”

She heard it for what it was, a promise to love her if she’d let him. “I desire it, Henry. I desire you. I love you.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

And then his mouth was finally against hers and his hands on her waist, untying her skirts and then working at her back to undo the buttons she had carefully redone on the unlucky woman’s dress. When his hands touched her skin, it felt like fire burning, a bright spot of heat where his palms moved to cup her breasts and then graze her sides, embers flaring down into her belly and outwards. She had the wild thought that the flames he had put out on her ruined dress he was now putting back in, stoking a flame that she wasn’t sure how to quench.

She ran her hands under his shirt and then around to his back, pressing him closer against herself, delighting in the sharp exhale he made as their hips connected.

And then, the sound of a loud thud and Dr. Foster cursing, silence where there had been fiddle music, cries of alarm instead of the murmuring of weary travelers.

“Cholera!” Dr. Foster shouted as they adjusted their clothes and ducked back out of the wagon. “I’m sure of it. Damn fool didn’t boil his water, I’d wager.”

Henry kissed her forehead and then left to help Dr. Foster move Silas’s prone body to the edge of camp. Emma took several breaths before joining Mary to see what was to be done. She had never nursed, but then again she had never done a great many things.

Author’s Note: Boiling water was not known to be a preventative measure for cholera but in 1850s London Dr. John Snow (really) isolated the cause of a cholera outbreak to a water pump, so I figure it is not too outlandish for Jed to have formed his own ideas a little bit earlier about cholera and its spread.

Overlanders did more often walk than ride, gathering berries and fuel for fires as they went. Oxen were not driven by reins but rather voice commands and whips.

The Bloom is in the Rye was a popular song at the time wagon trains were moving west.

“Give her a flourish for me, young fella!” is the best line out of the musical 1776, spoken by delegate Stephen Hopkins from Rhode Island to Thomas Jefferson as he announces he is going home to Virginia to see his wife. I can’t imagine Stephen and Henry are related, since Henry would never say anything remotely like that, even if we want him to.

Skullvarnish was whiskey cut with molasses to make it last longer which sounds like just about the least appetizing thing I can imagine, and exactly what Bullen would drink.

“Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires” is a verse from Song of Solomon and I’m sure it made an impression on Henry because it’s in the book three times at least: 2:7; 3:5; 8:4.

#mercy street #mercy street advent #emmry #the oregon trail

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im-a-goner-foryou · 6 years ago

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70's pimp! Tony/ prostitute! Peter au for the lovely @seldom-seen-kid, hope you like it! ♡

"Fuck- yeah, just like that darling," thin, delicate fingers wind themselves into Peter's hair, pulling at his curls just sharply enough for him to feel the prickling pain and to draw a high whine from his throat. He pumps his fist hurriedly around the rock hard cock in his hand, making sure to twist his wrist on every upward stroke just how he knows the other man likes it; and sure enough this earns him a gravelly moan of "look so good down on your knees for me, god..."

Noting how Stephen's hips now stutter off the bed in erratic thrusts forward, Peter then leans closer to lay his head on the man's lap, fluttering his lashes a tad excessively and widening his eyes to play up the innocent look that never fails to completely unravel most of his clients, all the while never ceasing in his steady jerking movements of his hand. Stephen's startlingly light blue eyes pin hungrily on him as though to devour him whole; mewling softly, Peter begins to roll his own hips downwards to hump the floor like a puppy in heat, grinning inwardly at the low growl this earns him.

In a final act he allows his mouth to fall open ever so slightly and sticks his tongue out to whimper a needy little "ohhh, please Doctor," and just like that the fingers in his hair are tightening hard enough for tears to well up in his eyes; chest rumbling with a low snarl Stephen ruts his hips upward to rub his leaking cockhead all over Peter's cheek, smearing pre-come across his flushed skin until the kneeling boy widens his mouth further to allow the throbbing girth in. Bobbing his head jerkily and drooling all over Stephen's cock Peter then gurgles out wetly "give me your come Sir, please? I need it so bad, please Doctor I wanna feel your come fill me up--"

"Fuck, fuck!" Stephen grunts, hips snapping forward one final time before the cock inside Peter's mouth twitches, then spills hot and sticky fluid down his throat that he expertly swallows with a happy hum.

"Thank you, Doctor," Peter sighs syrup sweet, making a show of licking his glistening lips, running his tongue messily up the length of Stephen's softening cock like a child would lick at a lollipop. "You taste so good."

Cursing weakly at that, Stephen shakes his head and pants "Christ, you're going to be the death of me," before beckoning Peter up with a crook of his finger. Smiling shyly now, Peter rises obediently to his feet and allows the older man to kiss him, laving his tongue over the other's lips in kitten licks.

Stephen groans, deep and guttural in his chest.

"You're a treasure... wish I could bring you home with me," he sighs-- not for the first time, finally pulling away as though forcing himself to do so; he frowns as his his gaze falls to the shiny Rolex adorning his wrist, however. "Shit, it's already five minutes past, I need to go before Stark comes bursting through the door or something. Here--" pulling his leather wallet out of his slacks, the man deftly plucks a few hundred dollar notes and stuffs it into Peter's hand, along with an almost fond kiss to his brow. "Thank you for tonight darling, you were perfect as always."

Peter can't help but blush at that, pocketing the bills inside the pink satin panties Stephen had ordered him to wear for their session. "You flatter me too much, Doctor," he giggles bashfully, leaning forward to press his lips to the man's cheek.

"Anything for you, Pete. Go on now; I can show myself out, I know how Stark can get sometimes about tardiness." Stephen huffs, waving a hand at the door to gesture him out-- but not before swatting his ass one last time before he leaves, of course.

Still blushing slightly from Stephen's silky smooth words earlier, Peter bounds down the stairs to his quarters in the basement, passing a few others along the way; he waves at Harley in greeting, the other boy nestled up on the common couch beside and chatting up a much older man. Upon arriving at the door to his room, however, Peter quickly recognizes the burning scent of cigarette smoke hanging thick in the air-- which can only mean one thing... or person. Groaning inwardly, he steels himself in preparation of what will surely come next, before twisting the doorknob open and barging inside his room.

Not surprisingly, a low drawl of "you're late," is the very first thing that greets him. How typical. Wrinkling his nose at the now more intense smell of smoke inside, Peter's unable to keep the annoyed scowl off his face as he kicks off his red stiletto heels before striding over to the mirror hanging on the wall at the other side of the room-- determinedly fixing his gaze forward and away from the unmistakable figure sprawled lazily on his couch.

Of course, Stark wouldn't have any of that. "Hey, you deaf or something Parker?"

"Go away," Peter grumbles to his stubborn reflection in the mirror; he looks positively wrecked. Grabbing some makeup wipes he then goes about cleaning away the cherry-red stains smeared all over his lips and lower chin that is his lipstick-- Stephen had been specially rough tonight, seemed to enjoy messing him up more than usual. Peter couldn't exactly complain; the man had paid extra for it, after all. "Y'know, you're not even supposed to be in my room, Mr Stark."

Unfortunately, that only earns him an amused scoff in response. "That's funny-- I would have thought that I'd be allowed to do whatever I damn well wanted here, seeing as I'm the one running this place. Now I'm going to ask you again, why are you late?"

Feeling a rush of both annoyance and frustration swell up in him now and win out his insistence at not giving Stark any satisfaction, Peter can't resist whirling around to glare at the older man. "Oh I don't know, maybe it's 'cause Strange was too busy fucking me stupid for both of us to notice the time?" he says sarcastically-- though not without injecting a faux sweetness to his tone, because as much of an absolute dick Mr Stark can be, he's also his boss, and Peter can't exactly afford to lose this job.

It's not even a few moments after before he's already regretting his outburst; even in the dimness of his room Peter doesn't miss the way the older man's eyes darken at his retort, the twitching of a muscle at that sharp jaw. Faltering slightly, Peter pales but still stubbornly refuses to let his glare waver; at least, until after several heavy, tense beats later does he realise that he's standing barefoot and still scantily dressed in slips of lingerie that barely pass off as clothing.

And it seems as though this particular fact also doesn't escape Mr Stark, if the new glinting look in his hooded eyes is of any indication. If Peter were anyone else he would probably be overtaken with shame; as it is, he can't exactly be in this line of business and get uncomfortable whenever someone stares at his bare body. Yet something about the older man's fixated gaze makes him squirm a little, and he can't help but feel slightly self-conscious-- folding his arms across his chest to preserve whatever little modesty left he asks defensively, "what?"

That shadowed gaze flits over his face, drags down his body in a way that makes the tips of Peter's ears burn red and his cheeks heat up. By the time Tony's piercingly sharp eyes land on his again he's already a flustered mess, as he almost always is when around his boss. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Stark leans back further against the cushions and quirks an eyebrow at him, smoke billowing from his nose on the next exhale of breath. "You look like a mess."

Peter feels himself go pink, and he turns back to the dresser with a roll of his eyes. "Yeah, thanks."

"You know what I mean," Stark says from behind him. Peter does; he knows that the man's referring to the smattering of hickeys on his neck, red teeth marks and bruises already blooming purple-black even as he stares at them-- gingerly running his fingertips across his collarbone he remembers how sharp Stephen's canines were sinking into his skin, and a pleasant shiver runs up his spine. "It's not the first time Strange went too far," Stark spits coldly. "He's always marking you up, and your other clients don't like it."

"So? Stephen's a regular," Peter reminds, leaner closer to the mirror to wipe the thick layer of mascara off his lashes. "He always pays well, and he stays within the limits too. Besides--" Pointedly avoiding Tony's eyes in the reflection now he mutters softly, "it's not like I mind it when he gets rough."

"Yes, well I do." Peter jumps at the sudden snapping of words behind him, turning around to find Stark barely a few inches away, fists clenching by his side. The older man's eyes looked more intense up close, if that were even possible; Peter can't help but feel pinned like a butterfly to the wall under that look and against his own will the coil in his lower belly tightens, blood thrumming through his veins suddenly loud in his ears.

He opens his mouth, hoping to say something to diffuse the electrifying tension that now filled the small space between them, but all that escapes him is a breathy gasp. Stepping closer, Tony reaches up to pluck the burning cigarette dangling from his lips and flick it away, then hums so low the younger boy barely catches, "I care for you, Parker. And I don't like it when I see you hurt."

"W-why?" Peter splutters weakly. "You- you're just my pimp."

Tony doesn't reply, instead dragging a calloused thumb slowly across his flushed cheek to cradle his jaw; Peter stands frozen to the spot, breath falling in short whines, swaying on his feet as the man's large hand crawls into his tousled hair to tug gently at its roots-- a surprised whimper tears its way past his throat, and against his will Peter's eyes flutter shut at the sensation. He feels Stark's head dip down until their noses brush, and the coarse stubble of the man's beard scrapes his cheek raw in a way that leaves his head spinning; almost as if on cue his cock twitches from where its confined in his panties, and Peter's striken with both overwhelming urge to rut his hips forward and hump his boss's leg, or to run away with mortification.

Before he can decide however, chapped lips are brushing against his ear lobe and drawing a full-bodied shiver from him, Stark's words a gruff baritone that is enough to make Peter's legs wobble dangerously. "You look really pretty tonight, Peter; you always do. Just don't break it."

Then with one final caress of his cheek the man turns away; Peter shivers at the sudden cold of his side, and by the time his eyes flutter open again Mr Stark has gone-- leaving him alone and leaning against his dresser, clutching at its counter for support and breathless with want that he can no longer deny.

#starker #peter x tony #drabble #pimp! tony #prostitute! peter #70's au #slight spiderstrange in the beginning because i just cant resist

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adigeon · 6 years ago

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february fic roundup & fic recs

(originally posted on dreamwidth)

I wrote 13,830 words in February, according to my tracker, which isn't awful. On average I wrote 493.9 words a day. The most words I wrote in one day was 3,013, and I had 12 days where I wrote nothing :(

Details on what I posted in February behind the cut, as well as some links to fic I read and loved in February:

What I posted:

Days When the Rain Would Come: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, 1,732 words, rated T. Summary: Tony deals with someone unexpected coming to Peter's rescue, someone he really would rather not be playing nice with.

Peldor Joi, Doctor Bashir: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, 5,279 words, rated T. Summary: The Bajoran Council of Vedeks insists that Deep Space Nine's temple host the Orb of Time during the Peldor Festival celebrating the tenth year since Cardassia ceded control of the station. What could go wrong?

better than a homing beacon: Star Wars Original Trilogy & Star Wars: Rogue One, Cassian Andor/Luke Skywalker, 4,055 words, rated T. Summary: Cassian repeats what he’d told Loneozner: he needs transport to the Thand Sector, and quickly. No Hutts, no Imperials, and he can work for passage. And, of course, the droid: “There’s something wrong with my R4 unit,” he says. The R4 spins its dome in acknowledgement. “Any time it accesses its nav systems, it crashes.” “Luke’s really the person to ask about droid stuff,” Camie says.

Diffused Light: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Karl Mordo/Stephen Strange, 1,440 words, rated T. Summary: While trapped in the Soul Stone, Stephen Strange receives a visitor.

The Latest Work: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, 1,220 words, rated T. Summary: Garak is put in the unfortunate position of having to correct a misconception Bashir seems to have about Cardassian culture.

Found Wanting: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Ezri Dax/Kira Nerys, 945 words, rated T. Summary: There's one of Jadzia's memories in particular that Ezri thinks a lot about.

What I read:

Now for some recs! I did a lot of reading in February, so this is a bit lengthy. February was also the month of "huh, didn't realize I shipped that," including me dipping back into Harry Potter fic for the first time in years.

The Second, Silver: MCU, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, 9,122 words, rated M.

Summary: It was a beautiful watch. A mechanical wonder in rose gold, with a blue dial that showed the heavens, the moon and the stars. But it didn’t mean anything. It was simply another beautiful object that Tony owned. Though he admired the construction and design, the watch wasn’t even particularly to his taste, too cold and remote, its hands too delicate. He wondered why he’d gotten it in the first place.

Rec notes: Can't recommend this one strongly enough - mundane/no powers AUs for MCU aren't usually my thing, but the Tony voice in this is dead on, and Tony's POV of watching Stephen change is excellently done. There's a great thread running through the whole thing about Tony's reputation in the public eye and the extent to which he's closeted that I found incredibly compelling. (I actually read this in January according to my bookmarks, but I couldn't bear not sneaking it in here!)

we're in the process of rebuilding (and we're starting from scratch): Star Wars: Rogue One, Cassian Andor/Bodhi Rook, Bodhi Rook/K-2SO, Cassian Andor/K-2SO, Cassian Andor/Bodhi Rook/K-2SO, 4,524 words, rated T.

Summary: “I think my best friends have replaced me,” Cassian said over his breakfast. / Jyn was the only one left at their table, and she raised an eyebrow in reply. He knew what that meant. She was just interested enough to continue listening but not so curious that she’d ask him to go on. He did anyway. / “Bodhi and Kay have been sneaking off to spend time together when I’m not around.” / “Pretty sure that’s just called ‘hanging out,’” said Jyn.

Rec notes: Post-R1 everyone lives, has Bodhi befriending K2, Cassian being jealous of both of them, and it's just really lovely. Nicely understated, almost, given how complicated the relationship dynamics are in this.

Flighty: MCU, Scott Lang/Sam Wilson, 5,472 words, rated T.

Summary: In which Scott Lang spills his guts to Sam Wilson at who cares o' clock in the morning, and it all goes uphill from there. Feat. Wakandan infomercials, brooding worthy of any A-list superhero, an uncomfortably sincere compliment, and a requited crush.

Rec notes: This is so great. Scott POV, Scott learning Xhosa from Wakandan infomercials, just a fantastic portrayal of Scott in the aftermath of CA:CW. Also just pure chemistry between Scott and Sam and great banter. I did not realize I shipped this but I think I ship this.

volatile: Star Wars: Rogue One, Cassian Andor/K-2SO, 1,856 words, rated T.

Summary: Found Index : startled laugh, with the light in his eyes; squinting up at, his mouth shaping kay kay kay like a benediction as if machines could be blessed, but maybe they can, because there is cassian andor, smiling and squinting, and—

Rec notes: Bang-on K2 POV, and the pseudocode interspersed throughout works wonderfully.

deep in my soul: MCU, Karl Mordo/Stephen Strange, 1,695 words, rated E.

Summary: Within the Soul Stone our heroes dream the sweetest of dreams, all unaware they are in trapped in an imagined paradise. All except Stephen Strange, who wants to savor what the Stone has gifted him.

Rec notes: It's porn and it's also very sad and very very good!

To Watch the Faraway Stars: MCU, Heimdall/Loki, 2,930 words, rated T.

Summary: There aren't many things Heimdall cannot see. Loki is sometimes one of them.

Rec notes: Wonderful Heimdall POV, especially the bits where Heimdall is looking over the universe and seeing things that no one else could. There's such a great melancholy optimism to the fic, too, which befits its setting post-Ragnarok.

Sick Day: Broadchurch, Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller, 1,560 words, rated G.

Summary: When Hardy calls in sick, a suspicious Ellie decides to pay him a visit.

Rec notes: Dead-on Hardy & Miller chemistry, and I love how restrained Hardy is in this. Hardy/Miller can be a little...florid, sometimes, with Hardy coming out of his shell too readily for my tastes, but here he's perfectly in character while being a little more emotionally vulnerable with Miller than we get to see him in canon.

when the wolfsbane blooms: Harry Potter, Remus Lupin/Severus Snape, 7,576 words, rated T.

Summary: Even a man who is pure in heart/And says his prayers by night/May become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms/And the autumn moon is bright. Or: Severus Snape makes a new friend, invents a new potion, and accidentally changes everything.

Rec notes: Canon divergent Marauder-era Lupin/Snape; diverges after the Whomping Willow incident. Snape starts researching werewolves and decides to cure lycanthropy. Cue Snape spending lots of time with Remus, testing potions on him. Snape is still convincingly Snape, and all the potions-theory stuff included is aces.

upon this tidal wave of young blood: Harry Potter, Harry Potter/George Weasley, 10,124 words, rated T.

Summary: George stands before him in the doorway, like a gangly, terrible ghost. His face is heinously pale, which makes the dark bags under his eyes pop in a way that is altogether unflattering, and he wears only a large, striped sweater and a pair of boxers with bats on them. His hair is much longer than it had been last time Harry had seen him, and it’s pulled back into a loose knot. “Harry,” he says, and it comes out breathlessly. / “George.” Harry stands there, wholly encapsulated by familiar heartache just at the sight of his friend. His eyes flick past him to investigate the flat. Clothes and dirty dishes are strewn all over the living room and, if he’s not mistaken, there are at least three pairs of underwear hanging from the ceiling fan. He glances back at George, who is now leaning against the doorway staring at him, expressionless. Harry clears his throat. “I, um… came for a visit. Sorry.”

Rec notes: Harry/George is a post-canon HP ship I had never thought about before, but now that I've thought about it I reckon I might never stop thinking about it.

George Smiley's Wikipedia Page: John Le Carre's works, gen, 1,139 words, rated G.

Summary: What it says on the tin. An imagining of how George's wiki page might look in universe circa a few years after Legacy.

Rec notes: An in-canon wikipedia page for George Smiley. Excellently put together; I especially got a kick out of the "In popular culture" section.

@heyitsspiderman: Into the Spider-Verse, gen, 27,392 words, rated T.

Summary: @heyitsspiderman: people act like they know this city but when i’m in the air i find more boroughs all the time. so far ive counted ten. dont listen to big brother in your ceiling (google) telling you otherwise (google maps)

Rec notes: Marvelously put together work where the various Spider-people figure out how to text between their dimensions and end up in a group chat together. Also, Miles is on Twitter! The coding on this must have taken so much work. The character voices are dead on (I especially enjoy Noir in this,) and the way the plot comes in while sticking to the text/Tweet/etc. format is extremely clever.

#fic recs #my fic #roundup #kim.txt

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saintedfury · 7 years ago

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Dying kisses with Eli and Furia because apparently I love pain :D

Kisses I want to write about:

Dying kisses: A holds B in their arms, panicked, crying. Murmurs of “no, no, no.” Salt on their lips from tears. Voice cracking. Holding on tightly to their shirt, their shoulder, their hand, roughly pulling them against their body, anything to try and keep them tethered to this earth. Kissing them as they die (“no. No, stay awake—“), Kissing them once more even with the life has left their body (No. God, come back. Please, come back. Please, look at me, I’m right here”).

***I love the direction of this prompt, but I went another way before reading the specifics of it. So, I’ll probably write a second one of these, because I have a shifty, kind of shitty, evil idea. ***

The rattle in his breathing woke her, not that she was actually sleeping, despite her own exhaustion. Furia raised her head from the shoulder she’d found so much rest and comfort in through the years and glanced up at his face.

The smile bloomed slow, even weaker than the last time he flashed it at her. It was just one more sign. The doctors had argued that he should remain in hospice, but better than anyone she knew that Eli did not want to die in some hospital bed. Hell, he’d probably rather passed in a blaze of some sort of glory rather than laying in the bed they’d shared for more years than either of them expected when they exchanged vows in that wedding chapel next door to a tattoo parlor just off the Las Vegas strip.

No one thought it would last between them. Tabloids regularly assumed she was leaving him, that he was cheating. The press didn’t understand them. The fans really didn’t care as long as Eli’s voice was strong and he kept stripping on stage. She also assumed they loved when the sex tapes leaked. It was part of his bad boy rock star allure.

He cleared his throat, a rough gravelly sound. He always did that now. As if trying to prepare his body for the words he wanted to say. “Love of my life,” he said, his voice breathy and strained with every syllable. His nose wrinkled, not at her, but more at himself she knew. The words didn’t pass his lips with strength and presence, they belied the fading he felt in his limbs.

Furia still gave him a wide smile, even if he didn’t hear the strength, she did. Always would. Her hand rested over his heart, patting his chest lightly. His hand, far too cold, rose and curled around hers, keeping it there. She didn’t let it go, wouldn’t, despite a need to pull the blanket tighter around him to warm him up. Eli was always her warmth, no matter the temperature out of doors.

She could see it, maybe sense it. Shifting on the bed, she moved closer, leaning on her elbow and brushing her other hand over his silver hair. Aqua eyes, one dulled by cataracts, closed with the purr in his throat; it was weak, broken, but he squeezed the hand on his chest tight, even managing to bring it to his lips.

“This isn’t the way I thought it would be.”

“I know,” she comforted. Most people predicted he wouldn’t make it past forty. But every time he hit one of their milestones they moved it. Sometimes she wondered if he ever thought he’d make it this far–see his children grown, with their own kids and grand kids. “But you’re home now.”

A soft rustle of movement at the side of the bed, threatened to draw her attention, but she refused to look away. In part because she knew it was close, and somewhere deep inside she hoped he wouldn’t be able to let go when she was looking at him. Eli wouldn’t do that to her … surely. So, she held his gaze, with a smile that battled with the quiver in her chin.

“Everything okay, Ma,” their son asked, his own voice husky with age.

“Fine. We were just chatting.”

“I’ll get him some water.” More rustling, probably the blanket she covered him with earlier falling to the ground as he rose and shuffled to the bathroom.

Eli’s eyes brimmed, glistening in the low light in the bedroom.

“I love you, Eli.” Her fingers threaded through his still thick and silky hair. “And I know you’re tired. You can rest,” she told him again.

She knew the pain he was in, even as he fought to mask it. The doctor had explained it all, what they could do for him in the facility versus what it would be like for him at home. If it had been her choice, she would have kept him there, where his pain could be managed, where they could make him more comfortable. But he didn’t want that. Said he wanted to be home, with her.

So, they brought him home. And for the last week, the house had filled with children and grandchildren. They lavished him with love and attention, cherishing what they all knew to be his last moments. Their grandson Stephen even called off his own tour to be here, bearing Eli’s lecture with grace and a hefty dose of his grandfather’s stubbornness.

Furia ignored the click of the door handle. Anytime Eli awoke, family trickled into the room. Like the whole house rested when he did, so they could greedily grab up every second they could with him, just like Furia did.

Eli blinked at her, tears trickling down toward his ears. “Say it,” he said his lips shifting toward that smirk she always loved and hated in varied measure.

“What?” she asked, curious.

“You know,” he replied with a widening grin. The hand in hers tipped a little and it jogged her memory.

“Mi pavo real,” she said, a chuckle in her tone, despite the wet shimmer in her own eyes. She continued to stroke his hair.

He grinned, eyes closing for too long a moment. “I always did love the way your mouth moved.”

A blush heated her cheeks, though it was likely no one noticed it. A few choked chuckles rang through the room at the innuendo in Eli’s tone. It wasn’t a surprise to any of them, he’d always been this way with her–no matter the situation, or their age. How many times had he told her in their life together that he’d happily die between her thighs? She blinked the thought away quickly. She never wanted that, or this for that matter. Watching him linger, suffer.

She leaned forward and kissed him; it was soft and chaste a quick peck. “I’ll be okay,” she told him. It felt like the truth, but she couldn’t be certain.

“I know. You always were able to handle it better than me,” he whispered. “I just …” A cough rattled through his chest.

“Dad,” Elan interrupted. His hand cradling Eli’s head, he raised him up enough to help his father sip from the shallow glass he brought. “Better?” he asked, looking from one of his parents to the other.

Furia nodded long before her husband did. Elan set the glass on the nightstand, shrinking back in the shadows and into his chair. Out of the corner of her eye, Furia noticed a shift of movement, likely her son-in-law moving to comfort the love of his own life. It brought a smile to her face; the fact that their children had people to attend to them in this moment when she couldn’t tear herself from Eli’s side.

There was a hint of warmth in Eli’s palm when it moved from her hand to cup her cheek. “I love you, Sol.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone, swiping aside the tears she couldn’t fight back.

She didn’t want him to go, even as she didn’t want him to stay. She wanted him to finally be able to rest, find some relief, but damn her soul she wanted more time. It hadn’t been enough. Not yet, she thought, leaning forward and pressing her mouth to his. He held her there, though his grip didn’t carry the strength and force of will it had in his youth.

Gasping a quiet sob against his lips, she felt that scant pressure of his mouth against hers fade. She realized she’d closed her eyes when she kissed him and they snapped back open. “Eli,” she whispered against his mouth.

No reply. “Eli, please,” she said a little louder, her fingers carding through his hair.

“Mom,” Elan said, his hand on her back.

“No,” she argued, refusing to look away, as if somehow his eyes might open again. But she could feel it. The stillness in him. He was never still. Never. “Eli.” She stroked his face and kissed his lips once more, as if it was some fairy tale where true love could bring him back.

Rustling and sobs surrounded her … them. The bed shifted and other hands touched her tried to comfort her, but she just rested her forehead against his in a swirling mix of sorrow and relief. Hugging his neck, she buried his face in the curve of her neck, stroking his hair as she sobbed.

#Kissed Prompts #Dying Kisses #Domestic AU #No Dress Code #Attempt 1 #Badger Scribbles #bosselimitchell

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racingtoaredlight · 4 years ago

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College Football 2020 Season Week 4 TV Watch Em Ups: Rivalry Week!

There’s still a whole lot of magic missing from the first COVID college football season but at least the B1G and Pac-12 will be playing weird schedules and we’ll have the worst bowl season ever. I’m not being sarcastic, I’m actually happy about those things.

It’s hard to look at this all and not feel the pull of regret that the season is even happening. I said on twitter a few days ago that I wish every athlete in the country would just go on strike right now and I stand by that. The plague isn’t getting better and the poxes are piling up. Oh, well, what the hell. Let’s just keep on playing.

The gambling info is from the same place as always and the scheduling info is from the other same place as always. Times are Eastern, the worst of all possible time zones for sports watching.

Saturday, September 26

Matchup Time (ET) TV/MobileTickets

Georgia Southern at 19 Louisiana 12:00pm ESPN2

If you don’t really look at it even sort of then it’s almost an SEC game. This is the Ragin’ Cajuns Lousiana school, right?

Georgia Tech at Syracuse 12:00pm RSN/ESPN3

Syracuse should go back to being an independent and Georgia Tech should go back to the SEC just for laughs.

24 Louisville at 21 Pitt 12:00pm ACCN

Hard to imagine a more painful sounding matchup of ranked teams. Louisville got worn out at home by Miami last week and, even though it made me “happy,” I didn’t really see anything of particular note to be excited by Louisville’s team. Pitt, as with most years, just sort of exists. My prediction for this game is that neither team is ranked next week when the BOneG teams are allowed back in the rankings.

Kansas State at 3 Oklahoma 12:00pm FOX

The Big 12 is really only fun in that they have conference games that also act as conference games.

Campbell at Appalachian State 12:00pm ESPN+

Not worth the risk to stage this game in non-pandemic times.

5 Florida at University of Mississippi 12:00pm ESPN

A major topic of conversation in SEC circles right now is “are the Gators actually good?” We probably won’t learn a lot to that end from this game. But then again, we might. Such is post-Urban Meyer life for UF.

23 Kentucky at 8 Auburn 12:00pm SECN

If you go by rankings this noon slate is pretty good. I’m not seeing a lot of entertainment value on the face of things but I’m very much a downer for this whole season. Surely, things will go hilariously off script all day and I’ll sit around like a bump on a log watching it go by.

13 UCF at East Carolina 12:00pm ABC/ESPN+

People get paid to write insightful shit about sports and can’t even be bothered to care about any of it. Here I am giving my soul away for spare clicks. Life is terrible.

FIU at Liberty 1:00pm ESPNU

... and getting worse.

Eastern Kentucky at The Citadel 1:00pm ESPN3

While Thee Citadel was offering blood to Clemson last week my wife asked me what the hell that school is. I knew a guy that went there out of high school but I can’t for the life of me remember what the set up is. Are they like a school for the national guard? Backups to the Coast Guard? Just a military academy for college aged fail sons? I’ve never figured out Disqus for the phone so I probably won’t see what you write but answer my questions in the comments, please.

Iowa State at TCU 1:30pm FS1

I’m not always good at this but I did warn you that having Iowa State ranked in the preseason was a bad idea.

Tulane at Southern Miss 2:30pm Stadium

Tulane blew a 24-0 halftime lead against Navy last week and Southern Miss is in Southern Mississippi. Praying for these two teams to put those crushing disappointments behind them at kickoff time.

22 Army at 14 Cincinnati 3:30pm ESPN

Call me crazy but does anybody else think if we put together a football team of troops they could totally cover a 13-point line on the road against Ohio State’s non-union equivalent?

UTEP at ULM 3:30pm ESPN2

The line is tilting towards ULM but the o/u is still only 50 so I’d advise strongly against trying to watch this one up.

Mississippi State at 6 LSU 3:30pm CBS

Suddenly realizing I can’t remember which one Mike Leach is coaching at this year. Well, the bloom is off that guy in any case so fuck him. Hope he’s at MSU and they get buried by 60+ this week. It’s only worth saying that if he’s in Starkville because if he’s at Faulkner’s alma mater I always want them to lose by 60+ every week.

West Virginia at 15 Oklahoma State 3:30pm ABC

Okie State looked horrible last week and so did WFV. Don’t put too much stock in week one, especially with a ton of roster churn. Pound that over at 51.5, in my humbly offered opinion. Which is only for entertainment purposes even in a gambling is mostly legal environment.

8 Texas at Texas Tech 3:30pm FOX

Texas at #8 looks fucking stupid but Texas Tech might be as bad as they’ve been since before Spike Dykes showed up in Lubbock. So the Horns -17.5 seems very reasonable to me.

4 Georgia at Arkansas 4:00pm SECN

Georgia is pretty talent-heavy and Arkansas is very much not but Kirby Smart and crew aren’t the kind of bloodthirsty loons that make my heart go pitty-pat. O/u of 53 and a 28-point line make sense but I’ll be plenty surprised if the score is actually in the realm of UGA 41-Ark 12. I’m thinking more like 24-6 or some boring shit like that.

Duke at Virginia 4:00pm ACCN

Wa-HOO-wa! The line is tilting very heavily in Duke’s favor but the Cavaliers are still at -4. Hopefully that holds and the Hoos strangle the Devils in the crib to honor the blue lean of voters in the commonwealth.

Texas State at Boston College 6:00pm RSN/ESPN3

BC bludgeoned Duke last week but only get 18.5 at home against one of the few teams in the country to have a defined personality so far. Texas State is a bad team and there probably aren’t a ton of people eyeballing this one just yet. Load up on the Eagles.

2 Alabama at Missouri 7:00pm ESPN

Bama is still the king, really. The whole team is still 5-stars in front of 5-stars in front of 5-stars. Betting with Nick Saban is fool’s gold, though, because whatever he has in mind from week-to-week against the lower level opponents is impossible to divine.

Houston Baptist at Louisiana Tech 7:00pm ESPN3

I don’t need to waste mental space on this and neither do you.

Stephen F. Austin at SMU 7:00pm ESPN+

Pony Diddlers exploded all over the 096ers last week with a new playcaller. I’ll assume this is just schedule fluff and look away.

Kansas at Baylor 7:30pm ESPNU

R.I.P. to an all-time legend.

16 Tennessee at South Carolina 7:30pm SECN

No comment.

Vanderbilt at 10 Texas A&M 7:30pm SECN Alt.

aTm is a 30.5-point favorite and even if Vanderbilt is real trash I can’t imagine feeling confident putting money down on this one.

Florida State at 12 Miami (FL) 7:30pm ABC

Everything in the world is saying Miami rolls in this one and I find that completely nerve-wracking. Is the offense really good after stealing Rhett Lashlee from SMU? Is the defense even decent if they can get exposed so often against Louisville? Does FSU being a pile of shit with a head coach somehow alone on the COVID list mean anything? I’ve got a feeling the answer is no, no and no but I’m openly pessimistic.

Missouri State at Central Arkansas 8:00pm ESPN3

Every year, week after week, I write one word or one sentence capsules that boil down to supreme indifference. This season it’s even more pronounced because the whole enterprise is so obviously crummy.

NC State at 20 Virginia Tech 8:00pm ACCN

Not sure if I realized VPISU was ranked before now. Are they the first team to ever lose a home opener to Kentucky and have a ranking the following week?

Troy at 18 BYU 10:15pm ESPN

A proper as hell night game. This is the kind of game a college football Saturday should wrap up with in normal times. Can’t wait for the 2020 version of degenerate football to end up with a 100% positive rate in the coming weeks.

GAMES OF THE WEEK:

Georgia State at Charlotte Postponed

Tulsa at Arkansas State Postponed

USF at Florida Atlantic Postponed

North Texas at Houston Postponed

#saturday post #tv watching #watch em ups #football #college football #gambling #degenerate football

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im-not-a-what · 8 years ago

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Sorcerer Supreme

Title: Sorcerer Supreme

Summary: For the Gold children, it's a fight for honor: who is going to be the superhero of their choice for Halloween? Belle comes up with a solution.

Rating: G

Genre: humor, family, sibling rivalry

Characters/Pairings: Gideon, Rumbaby OC, Rumbelle

AO3 Link

Note: Set in the Golden Quartet verse

“Mummy! Tell Gid he’s wrong!”

Belle was still reeling from the heated argument between her twelve-year-old son and seven-year-old daughter. They’d spoken so quickly that she’d caught only snippets as she entered the kitchen. Something about how girls should dress up as girls, that no, that’s not fair, Téa could pick any costume she wanted. No, Gideon had already picked and she should just pick another one.

With no ready answer to Téa’s accusation, Belle demanded that the yelling stop immediately and that the kids, who were glaring each other down over the kitchen counter, sit at the table.

“All right,” Belle declared once the children promised not to speak out of turn, “I want to hear both sides. Now, I’m thinking of a number between one and ten. Each of you pick a number. Whoever guesses closest goes first.”

Téa guessed four. Gideon guessed six. Belle’s number was five. This happened a couple more times before Belle picked nine. Téa guessed ten while Gideon guessed nine. Téa immediately whined, “I was gonna guess nine!”

“Well, you didn’t,” Gideon said, his voice bouncing with smugness.

“Gideon, don’t provoke your sister. Now, what are you and she arguing about?”

Gideon folded his hands on the table. He made sure to sit straight, gaining a few years on his countenance. He looked like a law student ready to deliver his opening statement at a mock trial. Belle didn’t doubt he put on a similar show for his school teachers. “We were having a conversation about our Halloween costumes. I mentioned that Robin, Neal and I had made a deal to dress up as superheroes this year for the school Halloween dance. I planned to go as Stephen Strange. That’s when Téa flew off the handle.”

“You stole my idea!” Téa cried.

“Téa.” Belle spoke low but punched the ‘T’ in her name. She’d worried in the early years that she’d never get the hang of being stern with her children. As it turned out, she’d become an expert, startling even Rumple with that edge of authority. “I said you could speak after Gideon was done.”

The girl squirmed in her seat. Her face started turning red, like she was trying to hold in a volcanic outburst.

Belle knew to get to the point of Gideon’s side before the explosion happened. “So, Gideon, you want to be . . . who again?”

“Stephen Strange,” Gideon said with crisp articulation. “Doctor Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme.”

Téa coughed. Somewhere in that cough came out the phrase, “Comic books.”

Belle snapped a stare at her. Téa sat still, then glanced at her mother with feigned befuddlement.

“Yes, he’s a comic book character,” Gideon said, as though it wearied him to explain what to him was a self-evident fact.

“All right,” said Belle. She faced Téa. “Now it’s your turn.”

Téa gripped the edge of the table like the reins of a bronco. “I want to be Doctor Strange for Halloween! I told Gid a long time ago that he’s my favorite character!”

“I’m your favorite character?” Gideon quipped.

“Shh,” Belle hissed.

Téa grinned, showing off a gap in the row of her upper teeth. “Ha!”

“Téa,” Belle said, “just because Gideon wants to be Doctor Strange for Halloween doesn’t mean you can’t be, either.”

“We can’t both be him!” Téa looked outraged by the notion. “Everyone will think I’m copying Gid!”

“Because you would be,” Gideon said.

“No!” Téa lunged over the table. “You’re copying me!”

Belle held up her hands at them both. “Enough! Gideon, not another word until I say it’s your turn. Understand?”

Gideon sighed and leaned back in his chair.

Téa poked her tongue at her brother. She flicked it fast enough that it slipped back into the safety of her mouth before her mother saw. There was a shadow of imitation in her wiggle to sit up straight and her tightly clasped hands.

“Téa,” Belle continued, “can’t you make a . . . Doctor Strange costume in your own way?”

Téa tried to keep her tone as plain as white bread at first. “I want to be Doctor Strange, but I can’t be a good Doctor Strange when my brother is Doctor Strange, too. He’ll look exactly like him. He doesn’t even care about Doctor Strange that much. He likes Batman, but Neal is going as Batman. Now he’s taking out his disappointment on me!”

Gideon grit his teeth together. “I’m not—” He stopped himself just as his mother directed a sharp glance at him.

“Then Gideon said I shouldn’t be Doctor Strange because I’m a girl! He said I should be Catwoman or Wonder Woman!”

“Those wouldn’t be so bad,” Belle said.

“But it was my idea to be Doctor Strange! It’s not fair!”

Gideon raised a finger. “May I speak?”

Belle sighed. “You may.”

“I didn’t say she had to be Catwoman or Wonder Woman. There are superheroines with magic powers. Zatanna. Scarlet Witch. The Enchantress.”

“The Enchantress is a bad guy! I don’t really know Zatanna or Scarlet Witch. I shouldn’t have to be someone I don’t know!”

Gideon laid his hand over his heart. His expression mockingly softened. “I’m helping you learn more about superheroines. You should have more female heroes to look up to. Mom agrees, right?”

The call-out caught Belle so off-guard that she could only guffaw.

Téa anchored herself on her elbows. “Yeah? Why don’t you dress up as Scarlet Witch?”

Gideon’s face twisted in a blend of confusion and repulsion. Belle hid a snorted giggle behind her closed hand. Clearing her throat to chase the laugh away, she regained her neutral frown. “Anyone here is free to choose what hero they want to model themselves after, regardless of gender. So, Téa, you may dress up as Doctor Strange. And yes, Gideon could dress up as Scarlet Witch.” Her aside look at Gideon came with a half-hidden smile. “If you’re comfortable.”

“Mom,” Gideon cut in, “you know why she wants to be a superhero for Halloween so badly. She wants an excuse to hang out with Robin and Neal.”

“Oh?” Belle checked with Téa, who grimaced but said nothing to deny the claim. “Well, why not?”

Gideon nearly jumped out of his seat. “Why not? She’s in second grade! The guys don’t want to hang out with a second-grader! Besides, we’re going to the school dance. We’re going to do more grown-up things.”

“Grown-up things?” Belle inched toward him with intensified parental interest. “Like what?”

“Uh . . .” Gideon retreated and tried to find anything to look at but his mother’s insistent stare. “N-nothing all that . . . nothing bad. I swear.”

“I can’t believe you trust him to babysit me.” Téa shook her head with precocious disapproval.

Belle coughed out another laugh, collected herself, and like her children joined her hands in solemn contemplation of the dilemma. After a minute in this pose, she said, “I think you should both be Doctor Strange.”

“No,” Gideon said.

Téa gaped at her mother. Then, as though succumbing to the braindead condition her expression suggested, she slumped forward and thumped her forehead on the table.

Belle raised her eyebrows. As far as childish gestures went, Téa’s display bordered on a performance piece. She graced it with an impressed, only partly sarcastic, “Wow.” Then she addressed Gideon. “If neither of you is willing to pick another costume, that’s the only compromise we can reach.”

“I’m not going around Storybrooke as ‘twinsies,’” Gideon said.

“Me neither,” Téa said.

As neither was ready to budge or see reason, Belle saw no immediate recourse. However, her curiosity sent her on a little research binge to learn more about Doctor Strange and other comic book superheroes. Inspiration struck. She confided her plan to Rumple, who initially expressed some puzzled trepidation. As he came to understand the plan, confusion transformed into enthusiasm.

On the afternoon of Halloween, the kids returned home to two Doctor Strange costumes standing on mannequins in the living room. One fit Gideon; the other fit Téa. Despite the presence of the one intended for her brother, Téa oohed and aahed over the faithful recreation of the Master of Mysticism’s outfit. The capes even levitated! Clearly her father had put his magic touch into the costumes.

“But they look exactly alike,” Gideon pointed out with a sigh. “Twinsies.”

“Maybe it won’t be that bad,” Téa said, still marveling at the cape that playfully twitched when she petted it.

“Don’t worry,” called their mother’s voice from the staircase. “We have a solution in mind.”

The kids whirled around. Gideon gasped, almost choking on air while his face drained of color. Téa spit out a stream of air that bloomed into laughter.

Belle sauntered down first, head to toe in black spandex with a bit of yellow trim, including the bat symbol on her chest. Her hair hung loose under the mask with the short, pointed bat ears. Behind her came Rumplestitlskin in a green and gold cloak over a black and gold armored tunic. His head was adorned with a golden helmet. Two, long horns curled out.

Gideon coughed out, “You’re not going out like that, are you?”

“Why not?” Belle said, not at all bothered.

“You guys look awesome,” said Téa, having found air and words again.

“Why thank you, little mortal.” Rumple completed his descent and knelt before Téa. “Now, Batgirl and I have consulted on the matter of your . . . contention. So, the alternative.”

He snapped his fingers. Téa’s regular clothes were swept up in a magic cloud. In their place appeared a wild costume of green and black. The onesie was simple, but the cape arched from her shoulders and billowed out in strips like octopus tentacles. The mask covered her head, just like Belle’s, but the black, zig-zagging extensions vaguely resembled elk antlers.

“Whoa!” Téa touched her mask. “Who am I?”

Rumple summoned a hand mirror. He held it far away enough that she could see most of herself. Téa squeaked. “I’m Hela! Oh, that’s so cool!”

“All right, good.” Gideon inched toward the mannequin with his Doctor Strange outfit. “Then I’ll just change into this—”

“Oh, no,” Rumple sang as he stood. “You have an alternate, too. Either you both go as Doctor Strange, or . . .”

Another snap. Gideon started and looked down. His body suit, like Belle’s, was nearly all black. Whereas her outfit had a yellow bat and gloves to provide contrast, his had the blue silhouette of a bird.

“Nightwing?” he asked.

“Oh, I get it!” Téa gestured at him and herself. “I’m Loki’s daughter! Nightwing and Batgirl are in the Bat family. Family costumes!”

“Oh. Great.”

“Doctor Strange is still an option,” Belle reminded him, “but you both must wear those. Now, who’s ready to go trick or treating?”

Téa jumped up and down, making the tendril-like antlers on her mask bounce. Her cape fluttered behind her. “Me! Me!”

“But the sun is still up!” Gideon glimpsed at the Doctor Strange costumes.

“You have that dance to go to, right?” Rumple sidled up to him. His smile matched his costume entirely too well. “If we all go now, that will give you ample time to meet up with your friends at the dance. Perhaps we’ll run into them on our route!”

“O-okay, okay, Téa can wear the Doctor Strange costume! I’ll stick with Nightwing but please, please don’t make me go trick-or-treating like this!”

Rumple tilted his head. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Dad, my two friends are eighth graders. The costumes are cool, but matching costumes with my parents? I’ll never live it down!”

“Pfft,” was all the commentary Téa deemed necessary.

Belle joined Rumple’s side. “Well, we wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But if you’re willing to let Téa—”

“Yes, I’m fine, I’m fine with it! Go have fun!”

“I don’t know,” Téa said, giving her Hela costume further consideration. “This is nice, too.”

“I don’t care, just leave me out of it!” Gideon zipped past his parents and up the stairs. His thumping feet faded within a few seconds.

“Wow.” Téa put her hands on her hips. “He should’ve been the Flash instead.”

Belle and Rumple didn’t need to know who that was to appreciate the remark. They laughed, as did their little girl. Rumple waved his hand. The Hela costume and Doctor Strange costume swapped places.

“Yes!” Both of Téa’s fists pumped up. “I am the Sorcerer Supreme!”

“For today,” Belle reminded her. She helped her daughter twist her long hair into a bun. The ‘do prevented any interference with the high cape collar that was already attempting to lift her off the ground. Rumple placed a jack-o-lantern bucket in one hand while he took the other. He told her how to command the cape so it didn’t take off against her wishes.

“Will we be back in time to see Gideon leave for the dance?” Téa asked as they headed out the door. “I want Neal and Robin to see my costume!”

“We’ll make sure they see it,” Belle said.

“Even with magic, both your costumes took a good deal of effort,” Rumple said. “We might as well show them off.”

#rumbelle #ouat fic #gold family #gideon gold #rumbaby #verse: golden quartet

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