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druidx · 7 months ago

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Her Countenance was Light - Chapter 19

CW: None AO3 ; Chapters: 01. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18 Tag list (ask for +/-): @aquadestinyswriting, @hannah-heartstrings, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary, @babyblueetbaemonster

A cab ride takes her out to the Emerald Star, where she waits until the Icelandic contingent sweeps through the foyer. She watches, waiting for her opening to fall in step. His Majesty is wearing a fine velvet tuxedo in dark green with a sash of black and gold, ornamented with green ribbons and medallions. Behind him walks Merri in a combination tuxedo floor-length frock-coat. At her side, her husband Yoruk is similarly attired as King Storri. Elo counts an additional three ubiquitous black suits around the King and a further six around the foyer.

She falls in step with the group. The agent stops reaching for his weapon and blinks. "Apologies, my Lady, I hardly recognised you," he murmurs and allows her to step in next to the King. King Storri casts a glance as she does so. "You scrub up well." "Thank you. You're not too bad yourself." King Storri grins. "You seem to have taken Anderssen's advice." "Mhm. It was good advice. Please extend my thanks." King Storri inclines his head.

Then they are at City Hall, stepping out of His Majesty's limo to the startling flares of flash guns. It's unsurprising – this dinner is a Big Deal, and every journo and society rag in the city wants a piece of the action. Though, in the latter case, who is wearing what often overshadows the reason for the event. As they walk up the fan of marble steps, Elo finds herself missing Evie more than ever. Her friend had a talent for the crowd that Elo does not, something Elo could often hide behind as Evie flirted and blushed and gathered all the attention to herself. The King halts them at the top step, and Elo shakes away the past to position herself in front of his left as he waves to the crowds. She glances at Merri, unhappy with the King being so exposed and receives a nod followed by a discrete finger countdown. King Storri must have seen it too – the moment Merri's hand closes in a fist, he gives one last wave, presses a warm hand to Elo's shoulder, and they go inside.

Dinner is as tedious as expected. There are a lot of speeches; the High Priest of Galantanka before the first course is served, then the Acting Magister after. The Exchequer pontificates between second and third courses, various guild heads at other odd points, and finally King Storri gives his panegyric over the coffee. Elo is deeply thankful no one is expecting her to do one – she has visions of stumbling through a speech with something to offend everyone at the table. She eats quickly and in silence. Schreiber, the Master of Commerce and a dislikable little fellow as never there was, spends the whole meal attempting to schmooze King Storri; the King, for politeness' sake, has to let himself appear schmoozed. She can't even talk shop with Police Chief Andile to her right, who's ignoring her in favour of talking golf with the District Attorney, and the table is too wide to try talking with Nima Thayer, the head of the Broderers guild. She doesn't mind overmuch, even if it means she's bored and irritated, because it means she's less likely to accidentally offend by offering a snarky comment to the person with the least humour for these things. For all her talk of wearing her symbols earlier, she knows that's what her presence here is full stop – she herself is a symbol. She is just here to be seen, a notable female hero displayed alongside the King of Iceland to assure the other members of Congress that this series of negotiations is a good thing. She may as well be a china doll for all that anyone actually cares to have her here.

Eventually, the dinner is over, and the guests are herded into the ballroom to mingle. She and King Storri waltz around the room a few times, just to drive in the point that the King of Iceland is open to making amends and that she, Lady Freeman of the City and beloved hero, approves of his presence.

After their third turn, Acting Magister Clayrmantle graciously cuts in. "I thought I told you to wear a gown?" he says as they spin around the floor. "You told me to find a dress I could fight in," she snips back, though her heart isn't really in it. "Mm," he says, his tone lightening. "I rather suppose I did, didn't I? It does suit you, you know. An elegant outfit for an elegant young lady." They take another spin. "Your Aunts would be proud of you, you know." "Acting Magister, after what happened at lunch, you have lost the right to talk about my personal affairs." Another spin. "Then allow me to express my regret at my poor choice of words and for permitting the stress of our unprecedented situation to have overcome me. I swear on my office it will not happen again." The problem, Elo thinks as they spin on, with having this conversation on the dance floor, is she cannot see his face very well. He stares over her shoulder, amber eyes melancholic. There are bags under his eyes that maybe weren't there a few days ago. The light changes, and all at once the mask shifts and she sees him for the tired, middle-aged man he is, who didn't really want to be Acting Magister but will, regardless, do the best he can to serve his city faithfully. "You stepped over a line," Elo says, "and there is no taking back what was said. But I will agree, the situation we find ourselves in is unusual. With one-third of the Triumvirate out of action, I… appreciate things are more difficult for you. And I… may… have made myself to be one of those difficult things." Clayrmantle's gaze shifts down to her, and his face changes from forlorn to hopeful, gaining a light smile. "Maybe. But, my dear, you are not nearly the biggest problem I am dealing with." Clayrmantle leads them in a half-turn, out of sequence of the dance, and King Storri hoves into view. Elo gives an indelicate snort. Thazar grins. And just like that, any remaining tensions have gone.

––– The night wears on. Elo spends most of it introducing the King to people who remember her as a child; interspersed with regular conversation is a host of "gosh, little Elo, all grown up". At some point she excuses herself to use the bathroom, leaving Yoruk to accompany King Storri. A flock of people descend upon the two men as soon as she steps away, but Elo thinks little of it. When she returns, Merri accosts her, and they melt away to where it is quieter. "I'm… glad to see you're wearing it. My Thor's Hammer, I mean," Meredith says, her fingers running little patterns on her thigh. "I had thought perhaps you'd gotten rid of it… along with my letter." "Never, I would never." Elo winces, her words spilling too fast. "It went around my neck the day you left and has been off only twice since." Merri's head snaps up, eyes wide and mouth a little 'o', which Elo hopes means she wants to continue their friendship as badly as Elo does. Then Merri frowns. "You don't take it off to bathe?" Her eyes narrow. "You don't have to be dramatic around me." "Alright, yes, I take it off to bathe. But that doesn't count." Merri rolls her eyes with a smile. "Fine. What was so special about those two times then?" "I fell into a canal that had been emptied for maintenance. Got plastered with thick, stinking black mud. I had to get it professionally cleaned." Merri snorts. "You and bloody canals. What about the second time?" "I showed it to Lord High Commander Bloodvein, as evidence of my right to guaranteed safe passage through the Northernmost wastes of your kingdom." "And he bought that?" Merri asks, her eyebrows raised high. "Yes and no," Elo admits. "We were locked up the entire time we made the transit, but we were also safe." Merri barks out a laugh.

They chat for a bit longer – the missed years dropping away – until Elo realises she's been absent from the party for too long. She needs to keep up her political doll duties, and relieve Yoruk; and – to Merri's indignant squawk – make sure the two lovebirds have some time of their own to coo at each other. She finds Yoruk and His Nibs out on the terrace. Yoruk is observing from a distance and looks relieved when he spots her. Two of the ubiquitous black suits are making themselves visible and both look as relieved as Yoruk. Concerned, she turns her attention to King Storri and the crowd around him. It's high-profile business people and similar toadies, headed by Schreiber, the Master of Commerce. Elo rolls her eyes. Schreiber, ass that he is, will be milking King Storri's polite indifference from dinner for all it's worth.

Elo takes pity on the King when she spots under his carefully controlled expression a hint of an emotion most folk get when speaking to Schreiber – that of wanting to beat some sense into him with a baseball bat. "Your Majesty," she says, interjecting herself into a conversational lull, "might I request you come inside? The night is chilly, I would not wish you to come down with an illness." "Lady Toreguarde," he says in greeting. "Of course, you are quite correct. Gentlemen, please excuse me." "You wish to keep him warm then, Officer?" Schreiber says. There is a smattering of guffaws from the surrounding merchants. Elo feels her hackles rising as the King takes her offered arm, but she tamps down on the irritation. Undeterred, Schreiber begins his insult, "Perhaps you should–" "Perhaps you should consider to whom you speak, before making such crass remarks." King Storri turns back to the group. "Your Majesty, this is not necessary," Elo murmurs, reclaiming and putting pressure on his arm. "No, I rather think it is," King Storri says, pulling his arm free. "I will not have you disrespected in this manner. This is no gentleman that stands before me." He steps into the Master of Commerce's personal space. "This is nought but a cretin and a rampallian. Are you so obtuse as to consider her naught but a lowly officer of the law? Are you such a pompous, self-serving, poisonous black-backed toad that you would attempt to demean her worth in front of me, thinking perhaps I should be pleased with your wit?" The King takes a step back, looking down his nose at the Master of Commerce, and for all that he is shorter, Elo thinks she has never seen someone look so lordly in her life. Then he spits on the ground at Schreiber's feet. "You are nothing but a worm, unfit to crawl in the dirt at her feet, you wretched, misbegotten–" Elo can feel the wind-up coming; surges forward to prevent the inevitable conclusion. "Alright! Yes, thank you, Your Majesty! I rather think he–!"

All at once, rather a lot of things happen.

#oc elowyn o'toreguarde #npc storri nargondsson #npc thazar clayrmantle #pc meredith gruksdottir #oc reginald schreiber #npc yoruk forhoksson #writing #HCWL Chapters only #WIP 'Her Countenance was Light'#titan fighting fantasy #fighting fantasy #ttrpg fanfiction #wandering words

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fortuositywritings · 4 years ago

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I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 4

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Summary: You try to be friends with Wanda. Frankly, you could try a little harder. (Ice cream date, but it’s not really a date, but like it is but it’s not)

PS: There are like three swear words, mentions of exercise, and you eat a lot of pancakes but that’s cause you’re hungry. It’s not a problem. Also, if you are actually athletic, are fit, or like to exercise, you aren’t and you don’t. Not in this house.

You wake up the next morning with a sore neck. As you sit up, you see Nat standing beside the couch looking at you over her coffee cup scaring the life out of you.

“So, how’d you sleep?” she asks.

“Like a princess,” you sarcastically reply. Stretching, you hear your body popping in all different places. Maybe you will take Pietro up on his offer.

“I know what will help. Some exercise. Get ready. We’re going on a hike.”

You finally take in Nat’s appearance and see her sporting the attire for a hike.

You groan. “You say hike, but I know you really mean running at an incline.”

“Come on. Don’t be a baby. Exercise is good for you. When’s the last time you got any?”

You want to make a joke because of how she worded it, but your mischievous smile gives you away.

“Exercise, Y/N. When’s the last time you got any exercise,” she clarifies.

“The last time you asked me that.”

“A year ago?”

“And my body is still sore. Ask me again in a few months,” you go to lie down again but she throws a couch cushion at your head. “Okay, okay. Jeez, woman. I’m up.”

When you return from your hike, you are heaving. You don’t ever really think about how unfit you are, which makes sense when you don’t spare 5 minutes to do any kind of exercise, but a hike with Nat will surely remind you. You are sweating buckets and just want to pass out when you enter the house. Everyone is awake presumably having breakfast. You can smell the pancakes from the living room. Your stomach growls. You want to eat but even chewing sounds like too exhausting at the moment. You just want to knock out. You head over to your sleeping quarters for the week, but before you collapse on the couch, your cousin says, “I don’t want any sweat on my couch, Y/N.”

“Ugh,” you complain but comply and go to take a shower. There is no warm water. You assume all the guests had probably had their turn while you were out. You don’t mind it too much. The cold water wakes you up and you feel refreshed. Soon you are sitting with everyone else making plans for the day, but unlike everyone else at the table you are scarfing down pancake after pancake, hardly chewing between each swallow. The conversation dies down as everyone starts to look your way. You’d be embarrassed at your table manners but honestly you’re too famished to care.

“Woah, slow your roll there, Y/N. Where was this energy on our hike?” You hear Nat’s voice come up behind you. You don’t bother looking at her, showing her the middle finger behind your back so the kids won’t see. She chuckles as she sits on the empty seat beside you.

“You might be faster than me,” Pietro comments.

“You know it’s not gentleman-like commenting on the way a woman eats,” you answer, mouth full and all.

“It’s also not lady-like to speak with your mouth full of food,” Laura reprimands you.

“Cooper doesn’t care. Right, Cooper?” you turn to the kid in question still chewing on your food.

He answers you with a mouth full of food as well, “Right!”

Your cousin sighs as you reach over to give Cooper a fist bump. Wanda laughs at the interaction from beside Cooper. You give her a quick wink before settling back in your seat. She just rolls her eyes.

They all go back to their conversation and you go back to eating your delicious pancakes in peace. Once you are satisfied, you sink back in your chair letting out a happy sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t want another one? You hardly ate anything, Y/N,” Nat sarcastically says.

You roll your eyes in good nature. “Honestly, I do want another one but my stomach might explode. I’m going to be dreaming of these pancakes tonight. I’d wed whoever made these bad boys but sorry, cousin,” you turn to Laura, “you’ve got a husband and kids, and I just can’t tear a family apart.”

“Also, she’s your cousin,” Nat emphasizes.

“Obviously that was implied, Natasha,” you say her full name obnoxiously.

“I’d love to take all the credit, but Wanda actually made breakfast. So if you’re marrying anyone for the pancakes, it’s Wanda,” Laura says.

“You hear that, Wanda? I’m going to make an honest woman out of you.” You wiggled your eyebrows her way.

“If anything, it’s the other way around, Y/N,” your cousin teases.

“Don’t egg Y/N on, Laura,” Clint quips.

“But then who is going to make me pancakes like these, Barton?” You pout.

“I can,” Pietro pipes up. “I’ll even bring them to you for breakfast in bed.” He winks as Nat and Clint wrinkle their noses in distaste and Wanda stifles a laugh.

“What?” Pietro asks his sister.

“Pietro, you can’t boil an egg.”

“Yes, I can. I can make many things. I even helped you with this breakfast,” Pietro insists.

Everyone watches the siblings squabble in amusement, especially when Wanda turns to you to stage whisper, “He burnt two pancakes.”

“I did not!”

“Ask Peter. He had one,” Wanda says in turn. Peter shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“It was a little crunchy,” Peter says after much hesitation. Sam pats his shoulder, shaking his head. “Poor kid. No one should have to eat crunchy pancakes.”

After breakfast the kids decide they want to play basketball with the hoop Clint had placed over the barn doors. You break into teams of 3. It’s you, Lila, and Peter versus Sam, Cooper, and Pietro. Nat and Wanda sit on the sidelines watching and cheering. Your team is not doing so great. If it wasn’t for Peter pulling the team, you would cry in embarrassment. The guys on the opposing team start to get cocky. Sam rubbing the score in your team’s face, Cooper repeating whatever Sam says, and Pietro begins making flirty remarks about teaching you one on one and so on. You want to ignore his remarks but you kind of also want to wipe the smirk off his face. You do just that a few minutes later when you finally make a shot after Peter screens him allowing you to shoot. You look to see if Wanda saw but frown when you notice she’s not there anymore. You play for a few more minutes but you are quickly getting tired.

Laura comes up beside Nat and yells over to you, “Y/N, I need you to run to the store for me.”

“Oh, thank god.” You sigh in relief as you go over to your cousin and take the list she holds out to you. “Nat, sub me in?”

“Gladly.” She walks confidently over to take your place. You hear Sam and Pietro whine behind you when they realize Nat is playing in your place.

You chuckle as you read the list. “Are we having hamburgers tonight?”

“Gosh, you really were not paying attention while eating those pancakes. Clint wants to grill tonight.”

“Can you blame me? I’m getting that pancake recipe,” you say with complete determination. “Speaking of, have you seen Wanda?”

“Y/N.” Your cousin gives you a look.

“What?” You say innocently, knowing exactly what that look means.

“Clint told me about that little talk he and Nat had with you.”

“So, what now? I can’t be her friend?” you scoff.

“Friend. Mhmm, sure,” she laughs in disbelief and shakes her head. Why does no one in this damn house believe you?

“Mhmm,” you repeat as you are walking back to the house.

“Check the guest room,” Laura says last minute. Well, at least your cousin’s got your back. You give her a thumbs up in thanks.

Sure enough, Wanda is in the guest bedroom. She’s sitting in bed with a book in her hand. You softly knock on the door. She looks up, notices it’s you, frowns, and goes back to reading. You tilt your head wondering what has her in a mood. Is she back to thinking about her ex? Maybe you can help distract her as a good friend would do.

You walk over to the bed before deciding to sit in front of her cross-legged, elbows on knees, chin on the palm of one hand. “Whatcha got there?”

“A book. Ever heard of one?” she replies without bothering to look up.

Sheesh. “Oh, my god. Is it real? Can I, like, touch it? I’ve always heard about books but I’ve never seen one in person,” you say sarcastically, hoping to get some positive reaction from her. You see a slight upturn on the corner of her lips before it disappears. Though it was miniscule, it was a step forward no less. You sit there for a minute staring at her and thinking of how to proceed. You don’t want to worsen her mood with one of your dumb jokes.

Wanda can feel your eyes searching for some kind of sign from her. She gives up trying to read her book, having been repeating the same paragraph over and over again. She puts the book down and huffs. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, you can,” you say. “I’m going into town to get some stuff for the hamburgers and I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

Maybe you are simply confusing Wanda’s boredom for an unpleasant attitude.

“Didn’t you ask Piet? There’s no way he refused going with you.”

Or not.

Her sardonic tone is not lost on you. So, it’s about the brother and not the ex. You want to scream. This is why you have the twin rule. Though you want to bang your head on a wall for not listening to your own rules, you keep your composure as you stand to leave the room. Before you go, you tell Wanda, “I haven’t asked Pietro. I thought of you first, but if you’re not feeling it, I’m sure he would say yes like you say.”

You turn and head out to the hallway dejectedly, but you perk up when you hear Wanda stop you. “Wait! Let me put on my shoes.”

You wait for her in the hallway, smiling to yourself in part because you would not have to spend hours with Pietro’s constant advances but mostly because you got to spend time with Wanda without supervision. You are a grown ass adult, eh, not really, but legally you were an adult. You don’t need to be supervised. It’s not like you needed someone to watch you else you throw yourself at Wanda. Sure, you like to tease here and there but it’s not bothersome. Is it? Oh, god, were you annoying Wanda?

Those thoughts are quickly dispelled when Wanda meets you with a smile. “Ready.”

No, Wanda wouldn’t have agreed to go with you if you were really a bother. You’re sure of it.

It’s a 20 minute ride into town. With Wanda’s mood having done a full 180, you find yourself enjoying your time with her as she recounts a slight hiccup on Steve’s behalf on a mission. Soon enough you are driving up the main street looking for a parking spot. Luckily you find a spot not too far from the store. You head inside and grab a cart. You and Wanda wander around the aisles looking for what you need. Wanda takes over cart duty when you keep bumping into things because you’re distracted with either looking over the list or looking over at her. You say a quick hello to a few people you recognize.

“Well aren’t you popular,” Wanda comments as you both turn into the frozen food aisle to look for hamburger patties.

“Yeah, that’s not always a good thing,” you say when you spot a woman you know in the same aisle. You move to walk real close behind Wanda, trying to hide your face.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks when she feels your forehead resting between her shoulder blades.

“Shhh, just keep walking,” you command without any explanation. Your really sad attempt at hiding was all for naught when you hear your name.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

You take a deep breath, plaster a fake smile, and leave Wanda’s space. “Hi, Mrs. Townsend. How’s it going?”

“I thought that was you. You can’t hide from me, you know. Not that you were ever any good at it,” she says knowingly. You cringe at the memory of her finding you in her daughter’s closet. This woman disliked you from start to finish, which made sense given that her daughter had broken up with her boyfriend for you only for you to break things off a few weeks later.

“Yeah, I know,” you smile sheepishly. She looks over your shoulder at Wanda. She looks curious but not in the best way. “And who is this?”

Wanda introduces herself with a polite smile. “Hello, I’m Wanda. Pleasure to meet you.”

“You look familiar. Have we met before?” Mrs. Townsend asks.

“No, I guess I just have that face,” Wanda responds with no hesitation having practiced that line so many times on missions. Mrs. Townsend’s stare weighs heavy and Wanda begins to feel uncomfortable.

“A very pretty one at that. Y/N sure knows how to pick them. Is that an accent I hear? Where are you from, dear?” Mrs. Townsend asks, with faux intrigue. Now you’re uncomfortable too.

You know you shouldn’t speak for Wanda but you don’t want to subject her to be in this woman’s presence any longer. “Actually, she’s just a friend visiting from New York. She and a few others are staying with Laura. And actually, she’s expecting us to return soon. So, have a good day, Mrs. Townsend. Come on, Wanda. Let’s go.”

You lead Wanda away by pulling the cart behind you. When you’re nearly clear of the aisle, Wanda stops and reminds you that you never got the patties. You tell her to go ahead and get in line to pay while you go back for the patties, them being the last thing to get from the list. Mrs. Townsend is still in the aisle now talking on the phone very displeased. “Yes, she was right here and with another girl-” she cuts herself off when you’re in her vision reaching to get what you need.

You give her a sarcastic smile. As you pass by her for the last time, you smirk and lean in to say, “Tell Abby I say hi.” Then you wink, leaving Mrs. Townsend very angry, and head over to the checkout area where Wanda is waiting. Wanda doesn’t say anything other than “Well, she was lovely” to which you laughed. Apart from that, she stays quiet at the checkout and as you put the items in the car. Before she has a chance to open the door to get in the passenger seat, you stand in front of the door blocking the handle.

“Hey,” you begin, but Wanda is looking at her shoes, her hands fiddling with the rings on her fingers. You take her hand to shake her arm in an attempt to get her to look up. “Look at me.”

You wish you hadn’t asked that of her because when she does look at you, it tears you apart. If you did not think your presence was needed more here, you could storm right back into that store and give Mrs. Townsend a piece of your mind.

“Mrs. Townsend is an asshole. You should never take what an asshole says to heart cause it’s all shit,” you say in all seriousness. Wanda giggles and raises her free hand to rub her face. You pull it away from her face. Holding both her hands you continue, “She’s just a grumpy lady holding a grudge over something I did like two years ago. It’s nothing to do with you and all to do with me. So don’t listen to anything she says, okay?”

It takes a moment but she finally nods. “There we are.” You pull her into a hug, one she accepts easily, hoping to give further comfort. You can’t help but think how nice it is to hold her, moreso, when she hugs you tighter.

“So, she was lying when she said I was pretty?” Wanda tries to joke, adopting your method of lightening the mood.

“Oh, absolutely,” you answer. She quickly pulls back from your hold but you don’t let her go too far, holding onto her elbows. “Cause you are breathtakingly gorgeous,” you finish.

She smiles and a blush takes over her face. You decide to add, “In fact, I can’t even breathe right now standing so close to your beauty.” You dramatically gasp for air making Wanda laugh and smack you.

“Ow, if this is how you Avenger women treat your adoring fans, I’d hate to see how you take down the bad guys.”

“Oh, so you’re a fan?” Wanda asks adorning a sly smile.

“Mhmm, since day one.”

“Is that so? Because from what I remember you called me Crimson Witch just yesterday,” she teases you.

“And I stand by what I said,” you respond. You cut her off when she opens her mouth to argue. “But if I have offended you, let me make it up to you.”

She narrows her eyes, looking at you skeptically as if you were up to no good making you want to laugh. “How?” She asks warily.

You lean into her space once more to say, “I know a place.” You wink and without allowing her to respond, you take her hand dragging her along behind you. “Come on.”

Your destination is just two blocks away. Wanda speeds up to walk beside you but she never lets your hand go. Not that you mind it in the least. You stop her when you arrive and reluctantly let her hand go to make a grandiose gesture with your arms. “Ta-Da!”

“An ice-cream shop?” she asks you, clearly unimpressed.

“Not just any ice-cream shop. The Ice Cream Shop!” You can’t help but say enthusiastically. Wanda on the other hand does not look enthused. You can’t believe she’s not excited for ice cream. “Oh, come on, Wanda. Don’t tell me you don’t like ice cream. The only excuse I’ll take is that you’re lactose intolerant or vegan. Just don’t tell me you prefer frozen yogurt. Oh, god. You do, don’t you?” You gasp dramatically, your hand clutching your chest.

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes in a light hearted manner at your antics. “You’ve made your point. Just open the door.”

“Bossy,” you laugh, but do as she wishes though you make a show out of opening the door. You bow and motion for her to enter as you hold the door open. “After you, m’lady.”

She sighs. Passing through the door, she mumbles, “I could be in bed reading right now.”

“Ah, but then you would’ve missed the opportunity to hang out with someone as cool as me,” you say as you and Wanda go to stand behind the group of teenage girls ordering their ice cream.

“Oh, are they meeting us after? Do you think they’ll buy me frozen yogurt?” she retorts, amusement shining through her eyes. You generally find quick witted remarks annoying. Mostly because you’ve always been surrounded by smart-alecks all your life. Your cousin is one. Then she married one who had one as a best friend. Somehow, you find the same quality in Wanda kind of attractive. Oh god. This can’t be happening.

“Quit being so grumpy. You’re gonna thank me when you try it. It’s only the best there is.”

“You should listen to her, but hey, I may be a little biased,” the woman working at the counter backs you up. The teenage girls are long gone.

“Thank you, Tanya,” you reply, stepping forward to the middle aged woman you know to be the owner of the shop. She was actually the one to give you your first job at this very same ice cream shop. Maybe you were also a little biased.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be in town so early, Y/N.”

“Well, I just missed you so much, I couldn’t wait to get here,” you explain.

“Uh, huh. I’m sure that’s it.” Her voice is full of disbelief. You laugh.

“Actually, I got here yesterday. I wanted to come earlier to help out Laura now that she’s phwwt,” you whistle and make a belly bump gesture like it’s a scandalous secret.

“She’s married and this is baby number three, Y/N. You can say pregnant,” your old boss laughs.

“But that’s no fun,” you pout.

“And who is this little thing?” She turns to Wanda, who timidly smiles still two steps behind you.

“Come on, I don’t bite, hun.” Tanya gives her a sincere smile, one much different from Mrs. Townsend’s. Wanda slowly approaches after you wave her over encouragingly. When she is close enough, you hold her forearm to introduce her to Tanya, trying to ease her nerves. It seems to work. You feel her relax and lean into your side as she says, “Hi, I’m Wanda.”

“Pleasure to meet you dear. I’m Tanya. See, no need to be shy.”

“She’s not usually like this as far as I can tell. She’s actually quite chatty. Sometimes I don’t know how to get her to stop talking,” you joke. Wanda scoffs and bumps your hip with hers.

“Whenever Y/N begins to annoy you, just put on some earphones and hide them with your hair. It works wonders. She can talk to herself for hours,” your old boss advises Wanda.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Hey!” You interject. “Tanya, where is your loyalty? So quick to team up against me.”

Wanda giggles beside you. You turn your head to playfully glare at her, missing the way Tanya smiles at the interaction in front of her.

“So how’d you two meet? I don’t think I’ve seen you in town before, Wanda.”

“She’s a friend and um, coworker of Clint and Natasha. She’s here for the week.” You hope Tanya didn’t catch your little hiccup there. However, you miss the implication of her question. Tanya tries to remember who Nat is.

“Natasha. Is she the intimidating red head always wearing tight jeans?” You and Wanda laugh. You affirm with a finger to your nose. “Didn’t you date her sister?”

You let go of Wanda’s arm to throw your head into your hands. “Ugh, how could you possibly know that?”

“Small town. Word gets around fast. People are probably already talking about you two, especially when you’ve got someone as beautiful as Wanda with you.”

Wanda blushes at the insinuation. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you tell Tanya.

Tanya raises an eyebrow, “You mean, you’re not dating?”

“Please, Wanda here is way out of my league. I mean, funny, polite, pleasant, and gorgeous. Maybe even a little pretentious. I caught her reading a book… for fun. Who does that? Ow!” Wanda smacks your arm and Tanya laughs. “Did I mention violent?”

The bell above the entrance door chimes informing you three that other customers are coming in. “Okay, so what can I get you?” Tanya asks, moving this along.

“I’d like two scoops of rainbow sherbert on a cone, please.”

“And for you, hun?” Tanya asks Wanda after handing you your cone.

“Um, may I have two scoops of strawberry, please?”

“Of course, you’d get red,” you taunt.

“Here you are.” Tanya hands Wanda her cone. You take out a ten dollar bill from your pocket to pay but Tanya won’t have it. “My treat, ladies.”

“But this is sort of an apology cone I promised Wanda,” you try again.

“Y/N! Apologizing with a three dollar ice cream cone is not a real apology. You can do better.”

“It’s like you read my mind, Tanya,” Wanda says. You want to laugh at the irony.

“It wasn’t for anything serious,” you try to argue.

“Whatever it was, you can treat her to something nicer,” Tanya reprimands you.

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“The fair is in town. Take her to that. Now shoo, I’ve got customers waiting. Nice meeting you, Wanda,” she says.

“You too. Thanks.”

You exit first, holding the door open for Wanda without thinking about it. She smiles and loops her arm through yours as you both head back to the car at a leisurely pace. You look to see if Wanda likes her ice cream. There is no doubt about it as she begins to hum in happiness. You want to say something like “ I told you so” but she warns you before you have the chance to open your mouth. “Don’t.”

You smirk and turn to your ice cream. You try to savour it, but you demolish that ice cream. You pout when you see it all gone. Wanda still has half of hers.

“Quit being so grumpy,” she says, throwing your words from earlier back at your face. “Here, you can have some of mine.”

She lifts her cone to your mouth. You happily go to take a bite when Wanda shoves the rest of her cone in your face. It wasn’t much but you can smell the damn strawberry ice cream as it drips from your nose. You’re too shocked to move for a minute. She laughs as you try to process what just happened. You hear the shutter noise of a camera. You see Wanda holding her phone up. That snaps you out of your daze. Wanda takes off running the second she sees the look that settles on your face. She doesn’t have to be a telepath to know what that look means. You chase after her.

She gets to the car before you but can’t open the door. She turns around, hands out in front of her body which is shaking from nervous laughter. “Wait, Y/N. I’m sor-”

You pull her into a hug and shove your ice cream riddled nose to her neck smearing the strawberry flavored dessert on her. “Stop, okay. I’m sorry. Stop, that tickles!” She bursts out laughing. You take pity and let her go, but your feet stay planted where they are. You both quickly sober up when you see how close you are. You feel the tension from yesterday return. You know what you want to do but you know you shouldn’t. Wanda is not making it easy looking at you the same way. Before either of you make a decision, your phone rings ruining whatever that was. You awkwardly clear your throat and back away. You give Wanda a smile before reaching for your phone. You answer it without looking at the name of whoever is calling. It’s Laura asking if you are on your way. You tell her you’ll be there soon.

You unlock the car and open the passenger door for Wanda. She gives you a quiet thanks. The drive to the house is awkward to say the least, a total contrast to the ride into town. The music in the background does nothing to alleviate your discomfort. In fact, you think it might have made it worse.

You let out a little sigh of relief once the barn enters your line of sight. Wanda on the other hand can’t take it anymore. She turns off the radio and turns to you expectantly. You take a deep breath knowing what was coming. Having a feeling this conversation could get loud, you slow down the car to a stop before you could pull up to the barn. You’d rather not let anyone overhear knowing how nosy they all are.

“What was that back there?”

“You started it, shoving the ice cream in my face.” You play naive.

“Don’t do that.”

You don’t know why you thought you could get away with lying to her when you know she can literally read minds.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to. I did. I do.”

“Well, I do too,” Wanda says.

“You do?” you ask. You don’t know why you sound so shocked. You had a gut feeling already, but it surprises you hearing her say it aloud anyway.

“You know I do. So what’s the problem?”

The problem is you can’t. The problem is you promised Nat, Clint, and yourself you wouldn’t. The problem is what Nat said at dinner struck a chord with you. Sure she could have been a little nicer about it and maybe not say it in front of everybody, but she was right nonetheless. The problem is your habit of touch and go, the one you never wanted to admit you had, only hurts people. You are the problem and you‘ve decided to fix it, starting with Wanda. You won’t allow yourself the chance to break Wanda’s heart. You don’t think she deserves that.

“You don’t get to decide what I deserve. Neither does Nat. Neither does Clint. I get to make that decision for myself. If I put it all on the line and end up heartbroken, then that’s on me. I make that choice.”

You nod, “You’re right. That is your choice and I can respect that. But it’s also my choice to decide I can’t be the one to break your heart. Can you respect that?”

A heavy silence settles in the car, but you have said all you needed to say so you wait for Wanda to respond. When she realizes your mind is set, she nods. After another minute of silence, she asks, “What now, then?”

“Cliché, but friends?” you suggest. When Wanda scoffs in disbelief, you have to ask, “What?”

“You and me?” Wanda asks as if for clarification.

“Well, I don’t see anyone else in the car. Yes, Wanda. You and me.”

“Have you ever been just friends with anyone before?” Wanda asks, placing no kind of faith in your ability to maintain platonic relationships.

“Are you asking if I can keep it in my pants? Not to bruise your ego, but I can be in a room with you without wanting to jump your bones, Maximoff. I have plenty of strictly platonic friends. Like... Nat.”

She laughs at the choice you made for an example. “That’s only because Natasha doesn’t want to sleep with you.”

“So, what you’re saying is this friendship won’t work because you can’t keep it in your pants?” you counter and watch with amusement Wanda’s face flush and her try to defend herself.

“N-no,” she stutters weakly.

“Great,” you say cheerily. “It’s settled then. We can be friends.”

“There are rules though,” Wanda warns you as you start driving toward the house again.

“Already? Had I known this friendship came with terms and conditions, I might have never suggested it. Fine, lay them on me.”

“No more flirting with my brother.”

“I have never flirted with your-” you start to deny, but when she gives you a knowing look you quickly agree. “Okay, but if he’s putting in all the work, who am I to keep him from living out his dreams?” You jest. She punches your arm.

“Alright, new rule! No more hitting me.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You were beginning to see the rules to this friendship were not going to be in your favor.

_____________________________________________________________________

So, I lied when I said this was going to be most likely 5 chapters. It turns out I really like dialogue. I'm hoping max is 8 chapters.

Your assignment in preparation for the next chapter: pick a nice outfit cause you're going to the county fair.

Extra Credit: Name the county. (I'm prob going to pick one from the comments)

taglist: @madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemessis @myperfectlovepoem @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you

475 notes · View notes

personasintro · 4 years ago

Text

how love works | myg drabble

⏤𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; your new colleague who ends up showing you around in your new job, finds his way to your broken heart

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨; yoongi x reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, nurse!yoongi, single mom!reader

⏤𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 5.5k

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: strong language, making out, mentions of sex

𝘢/𝘯: commissioned by @hyacinthgrrls, thank you for being so patient about this one! I'm sorry if this one seems to be messy, but I really tried to squeeze everything you wanted here!

...I'd be more than happy to show you around, but unfortunately, my shift already started and I need to be there before Dr. Jung throws a fit,” His words are unclear, barely audible as he rushes through a long hallway, greeting a few patients along the way.

It feels like all hospitals look the same – white walls with a little bit of different, but still nonchalant colors popping every now and then. This one is matched with beige color, visible thanks to the intensive white lightening. The omnipresent smell of antiseptic caries through the whole hospital.

“Yoongi is going to show you around.” Namjoon, as you've learned his name just five minutes ago, says and briefly looks over the shoulder to check up on you, making sure you're catching up with him.

It's tough, his long legs move quickly and you barely get to catch up with him, ushering behind him. He finally stops in front of the white door, the same ones like all those tens you've just passed by, before he pushes it open and walks in. Following him, you close the door with a soft thud as you try to get a glimpse behind Namjoon's tall figure. He moves away, allowing you to see the whole room. It's medium sized room with two wooden tables next to the windows, a small kitchen unit on the left side with a white fridge.

It must be a break room, but before you can look around, your attention is caught by Namjoon's voice and another person in the room.

“Great, you're here!” Namjoon calls out enthusiastically, smacking his hands together as the young man with dark hair stares at him. “You're going to show Y/N around.”

His eyes widen, before he frowns with his puffed cheeks as he holds a sandwich in his hands. “I'm on my lunch break!” he exclaims with his full mouth, visibly annoyed by the sudden interruption of his chance to finally eat and take a break.

“I know, but Jung needs me and you're the only one free.”

Namjoon doesn't seem to be surprised by the man's grumpy attitude, not even when he grunts in annoyance at him. You watch the dark haired man swallow, putting down his sandwich before he opens his mouth.

“I'm not free, I'm on my lunch break.” he reminds him, dusting off his blue scrubs that nicely contrasts with his pale skin.

Understandably, you get his reaction of having to show someone around when it's his time to finally eat. You don't take it personally, but it still leaves you awkwardly standing next to Namjoon with tongue poking the inside of your cheek.

“I can wait.” you speak up, their eyes snapping to you as the man opens his mouth before he can, Namjoon already interjects.

“No, someone needs to show you around. It's your first day but you need to get to work as soon as possible.” he dismisses your idea immediately, glancing at his colleague that fumbles with his eyes before he sighs.

“Fine.” he mutters, tossing his almost untouched sandwich down onto the table.

“Great!” Namjoon exclaims in excitement and claps his hands again. “See you guys later!”

Not even waiting for you response, he's already out of the room and leaves the two of you alone. You wonder if the man hates you for not being able to finish his sandwich, which doesn't even look like a proper lunch, because of you. He sighs, leaving you standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with your handbag clutched in your hands.

“It's okay if you want to finish that,” you speak up, feeling like you need to do something rather than just staying in silence with awkward atmosphere in the air. “I can wait.”

You've heard Namjoon, so did he, but you just need to say something and you feel bad for being a burden to him. The man looks up, meeting your eyes properly this time, and you expect him to glare at you or at least show kind of irritation, but his gaze is soft.

“No, it's okay I can finish it later,” he says, speaking to you for the first time with much more relaxed tone than he spoke with to Namjoon. “It's your first day here, huh?” he chuckles, packing his sandwich and places it into the fridge.

“Yeah,” you answer with a mere smile, noticing the untouched cup of coffee on the counter which makes you feel even more bad.

“I'm Yoongi,” he tells you, stretching his arm towards you. You take it, glancing into his dark orbs as you tell him your name.

Something about him makes you want to observe him, maybe it's his interesting personality you got to see and even though you don't know him, he doesn't look as intimidating as you first thought now that you think about it.

“Very well then, let's go before Namjoon bursts through those door again,” he jokes, causing you to laugh at that, remembering how in rush he's been ever since he introduced himself to you. “Come on.” he walks up to the door and opens it, motioning for you to go first as you thank him, ushering back to the busy hallway.

If Yoongi ever felt annoyed by the sudden interruption of his lunch break, he definitely doesn't seem to be in a bad mood at all. He's very polite, showing you each floor and explains how it works there, answering your every question with friendliness and even briefly talks about himself when you ask how long he's been working here.

For some reason, you're surprised when a 'four years' as an answer resounds from his mouth, you don't even know why but it makes sense, judging how much he knows about their work ethic and other employees. He makes you chuckle couple of times, whispering about some of the older nurses, warning you to stay away from them because they're grumpy all the time. You're pleasantly surprised by his humor and thanks to him, the nerves you've been feeling the whole morning are eased up. He doesn't know it, nor you acknowledge it loudly but you're grateful for him being the one who shows you around.

When he tells you it's your time to get changed to your work attire, you can't help but feel disappointed over the fact that it's over. His presence is weirdly pleasing and nice, and you wonder if the rest of your colleagues are such nice people as him.

He leads you through the hallway which you recognize as the same where the break room is, before he stops in front of the identical door, just with the different sign next to it.

“This is the dressing room, obviously, women and men have separated rooms.” he informs you, opening the door as he lets you to walk inside first before he follows after you.

You don't expect anyone to be there, especially not a woman wearing jeans with a bra covering her breasts as she looks at the both of you. Your cheeks heat up, not at the sight of her not covered chest, but from the situation. She doesn't seem to be phased, and her smile spreads into a huge grin as she cocks her brow at Yoongi.

“If you wanted to see me naked, Yoongi, you know all you need to do is just tell me.” she speaks up, lips curving into a smirk as she pulls out a shirt out of the opened locker, putting it on.

“Well, see, I'm not here for you.” he says nonchalantly, not phased by her flirtatious attitude which makes her grin even more.

“Ah, what a shame,” she sings out, closing her locker with a loud thud as she collects her handbag. “And who's this?”

“Y/N, our new colleague.” Yoongi answers before you can even open your mouth, and somehow, you're grateful for that.

Maybe it's the way she eyes you, wiggling her brow at Yoongi which you don't miss. She's not an introvert, for sure.

“Oh, nice to meet you. I'm Mishil but you can call me Misha.” she smiles, showing you a set of her white teeth in confident and cheerful smile.

You notice the dimple in her cheek and her sharp eyeliner, wondering if you might possibly look this good after the whole shift. She's beautiful, her strawberry blonde complimenting her soft skin and even though you can't see her mascara slightly smudged under her eyes, she can still pull it off.

“It's nice meeting you.” you smile at her.

“As much as I'd love to talk to you guys, I gotta go. The whole night shift was a nightmare,” she complains, rolling her eyes in exhaustion as she makes her way to the door. “Bye, bye!” she sings out, not waiting for the two of you to react, identical to the way Namjoon did it.

“...and she's gone.” Yoongi mutters, chuckling when he sees your widened eyes.

“She's... quite something.” you comment with a similar mutter.

“Yeah, you'll get used to her, it just takes some time.” he waves off his hand, assuring you.

“She's flirty.” you voice out your thoughts, causing him to chuckle once again.

You're not sure whether you said something funny, but once he opens his mouth it causes your mouth to drop open.

“She's married.” he tells you, laughing when he sees your opened mouth and bulged out eyes.

You're mesmerized by his smile, it instantly catches your attention as the way he shows his gums and his eyes crinkle in the ends. No, no, stop! This is your colleague, you remind yourself.

Gulping, you find words to ripple out of your throat. “Her husband doesn't mind it?”

“Wife,” Yoongi says, “She has a wife.”

“Oh,” you let out, “Doesn't her wife mind it?” you ask again, chuckling at your correction as he shrugs in response.

“I think she's used to her personality,”

You're not sure if you 'd liked it if your partner would flirt with other people, most likely not.

“Love works in a weird way.” he shrugs, opening one of the drawers besides the lockers as he pulls out the same blue scrubs as the ones he's wearing.

You thank him once he hands it to you, smiling lightly. “The size should be right, if not just pull out the correct one. I'll leave you to it, I'll be waiting outside.”

“Waiting?” you ask in confusion, watching him walking towards the door.

“It looks like your first shift is with me.” he smirks, opening the door as he leaves without any other word.

You stand there for a few minutes, surprised how fast your heart beats just from the single exchange of a few words and looks. This hasn't happened for a long time, it feels almost new and never experienced. Unfortunately, you've felt this way before and it brings nothing but sadness and anger.

Looking at the fresh clothes in your hands, your smile spreads into a wide grin before you even realize.

He got the right size.

“I'm scared,” The little boy murmurs, staring with wide eyes at the needle in your hand.

His eyes averts to his mother who's standing just a few meters behind you, giving you the space to work, while her son stares at her in a hope she'll take him away before the needle can even go through his skin.

“You don't have to be,” you tell him, eyes filled with sympathy as his bottom lip trembles. “It's probably going to be a little bit uncomfortable, but you're a big guy. I'm sure you can handle it.”

You search his eyes in question, which dance between the needle in your hand and your eyes. He thinks it through, wondering what his response will be before he inhales shakily.

“I'm a big guy.” he assures you, straightening himself to prove his point.

It makes you smile, looking over your shoulder to call his mother to hold his hand. Stitches aren't comfortable, he's lucky enough to end up with only two of them instead of more. He cries out as soon as you pierce the needle through the skin of his forehead, trying to work fast but precise. It breaks your heart, even though you're helping him by sewing his wound. He whines and cries, even when you're done and he looks almost mad.

“We're done, you did so good!” you cheer him up, ruffling his curly hair as he looks up at you with a mere glare but you don't take it personally. “Now you know it's better if you listen to your mom not to run on stairs.”

His mother chuckles, ruffling his hair the same way you did as she praises him for holding still. You fish out a lollipop which you hid into the pocket of your scrubs as soon as you've heard about an emergency with a kid and bleeding forehead. Candy always helps and you just happen to carry them in your bags ever since Em was little.

The boy's eyes shine as soon as he sees the lollipop in your hands, reaching for it almost immediately as he takes it from you.

“What do you say?” His mother chimes in, caressing the dark skin of his soft skin as he mumbles a cute 'thank you'. “Thank you so much.” she turns to you, a gratitude shining in her eyes as you give her a smile in return.

When they both leave, it's just you and Yoongi in the room, who made sure you're doing your job right. Instead of breathing down your neck, he started to sanitize equipment as soon as you started to take care of the poor boy.

It's your first day working as a nurse and thanks to your colleague, it's not as stressful as you thought it would be. He seems to be very chill and laid back, yet precise and skilled. You're glad he's the one training you.

“You're good with kids.” he comments, putting the disinfection back on its place, glancing at you.

“Yeah, I have a--”

“Hey, slackers. We need you here.” Namjoon walks into the room, rushing the two of you out of it before you can even response to Yoongi.

Sighing, you both follow Namjoon who keeps telling you to hurry.

Yeah, Yoongi is definitely much more chill than Namjoon is.

Two months in and you think everyone hates you.

Maybe it's just the sixth sense inside of you, or you're completely overthinking everyone's reaction. You wouldn't expect them to understand, nor you're shocked by the glares you receive on daily basis. In other situations, you wouldn't care about it that much, even though it's uncomfortable and some part of you feels bad. But what really bothers you is none other than your colleague, one of the first people you've met on your first day and was kind enough to show you around.

From what started as a great relationship between two colleagues, turned into brief greeting where he wouldn't even meet your eyes. It affects you more than you'd like to admit, especially when you started to cook more food, just to pack it and bring it to him during your shifts together. Those sandwiches from the vending machine are unhealthy, and just as Yoongi said, there's nothing which compares to the home-cooked meal.

It became a routine, you packing him a soup and meal every time you both had shift, no matter how many times he told you, you shouldn't bother. Everything went well, after you had to run home whenever you got a call from the babysitter or school, which led to someone else taking all of your shifts.

It ended up with almost every colleague glaring at you, for not coming into the hospital and not doing your job. Little did you know, it was mostly Yoongi who ended up taking most of your shifts causing him to sport a dark bags underneath his eyes.

If you haven't been through so much, you would probably cry somewhere in the corner at the thought of everyone hating you. But you don't. However, one particular person bothers your mind more often than it should. Deciding you're over with the cold shoulder he's been giving you, you ignore everyone's stares once you walk into the break room. The chatter quiets down as soon as they notice you. Without doubt, they were talking about you behind your back but you could care less about that.

Although, one pair of particular set of eyes catches your attention in the corner of the room, munching on that distasteful sandwich. If he weren't so stubborn, declining your lunch and attempt of feeding him with a home-cooked meal, he could have eat much better food now. It was just another sign of Yoongi's friendship fading away.

Their lunch break ends as most of them just go back to work, making you stare at the floor with a frown settled on your face. Do they hate you so much?

As if Namjoon could hear your thoughts, you met his soft smile but he doesn't say anything as he walks away. You watch Yoongi tossing the plastic package into the bin as he starts to clean the mess on the table, completely ignoring you.

With a sigh, you walk up to him feeling almost awkward that you're practically standing right next to him and he doesn't even spare you a glance. Once he's done he turns around but you don't allow him to walk away, standing right in front of him with a raised brow.

“Can we talk?” you ask softly, praying he's just going to drop this act full of ignorance.

When his eyes meet yours, for the first time in weeks from such a close proximity, you hate how fast your heart starts to hummer against your ribcage. Those dark orbs glaring at you seems to soften at the pleading look you give him, and you feel some kind of weird hope before he shutters it in a second.

“I gotta work.” he murmurs, shoulder slightly bumping into yours as he tries to make a way towards the door.

You don't move, watching his back as he leaves out of the room, with a pain in your chest.

You're done.

You're done sitting around, trying to catch Yoongi's attention who somehow always manages to avoid you before you can even open your mouth.

When you see him walking through the hallway, completely oblivious to your focused gaze, staring at him as if he was your prey, you won't let him get away. Not anymore. Before he can react, or even properly meet your eyes, you're pulling him into the room which happens to be janitor's closet. It's small, but it'll do.

His stutters of confusion are ignored, as you flick the light open and stare at him.

“What the hell?” he asks, confused that you just grabbed him and pulled him into the janitor's closet.

“We need to talk.” you tell him with a persistent tone, brows furrowed in concentration.

“What? Now? You can't just pull me here--” he looks around, glancing around before he continues. “I've a lot of work to do.”

It's just another attempt of avoiding you, which makes you want to loose your mind by this man. Before he can reach towards the door, dangerously stepping closer to you, your mind works on its own and you lock it. The doorknob digs into your lower back but you don't care, you're just trying to make him stay and talk. With your back pressed against the door, he looks at you in confusion before he sighs. It's clear he has no intentions talking to you, simply staring at you with a raised brow. The same look of ignorance he's been giving you for weeks.

“What's your problem? Why are you so distant and avoiding me all of a sudden?”

He chuckles bitterly, shaking his head at you before he looks down with a cold glare. “My problem? My problem is that I've been covering your shifts, saving your ass every time you haven't had the decency to come to work and do your actual job.”

Okay, you didn't expect him to be so vocal and straight forward. His tone is cold and bitter, surprising you which is evident on your face before you frown in hurt.

“No,” he deadpans, “don't look at me like that. I'm not a bad guy in this. I'm fucking exhausted, overworking myself because of--” he stops himself, and you almost push him to finish his sentence but you just dryly gulp.

“My daughter kept getting sick, and I had to be at home with her, there's nothing I could do. Her babysitter wouldn't look after her if she's sick and she couldn't go to kindergarten either. And you know what? If I got a call from her babysitter or her kindergarten saying she's sick again, I'll drop everything and go and take care of my daughter. So hate me all you want, but I'm a mother before I'm a nurse.”

The frustration has been built inside of you for so long, that you finally snap at the one person who made your shifts always more fun and bright. He seems to be caught off guard by the new information, slowly processing it as he widens his eyes.

“You've a daughter?” he breathes out.

“Yes.” you hold yourself back from exclaiming loudly.

“You've never told me that.” he murmurs, almost expression of hurt crossing his soft features.

It's not like you kept Em as a secret, but before you could talk about your private life in more depth and how her father cowardly left you before she was even born, you barely got enough time to go back to work and talk to him. You're surprised you haven't got fired yet. You can't get fired, you've got a family you need to support and Em relies on you.

“I was going to.” you admit, looking down at your feet with a puzzled look.

Who knows what would've happened if you just told him sooner. Would he be more acceptable? Isn't he saying it right now because he's trying to put a blame on you?

You almost jump when he cups your face, holding up your head so he can stare right into your eyes with the same look you've. They're filled with apology that spark in his dark orbs, slowly caressing your cheek.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers, “I'm sorry for being so hard on you. I thought you just don't care about this job, or us.” he admits shamefully.

“It's okay.” you assure him with a soft voice, but he shakes his head in response.

“I was an asshole to you, I'm so sorry,” he says right back, still holding your face as his eyes drops down to your lips, eyeing your face. “I really want to kiss you.”

Your heart jumps, not that uncomfortable way whenever he would straight avoid you or glare at you. It's different this time and you react almost immediately.

“Then kiss me.”

Expect him to do it slow, he surprises you with his lips right on your own, not wasting a second as he starts kissing you. He deepens it, a touch of his lips full of emotions and regret and it's almost unbelievable how you can feel it just from the single kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as he hungrily kisses you, too stubborn to pull away for some oxygen. It's needy and you moan into his lips when he squeezes your ass in his palms. But you still need to pull away, lips attaching from one another but your foreheads stay leaned against each other as you both breathe heavily.

“Let me take you out.” he whispers, thumb tracing your cheekbone as he admires your make-up free face.

“A date?” you sound surprised, wondering if you've heard him right.

Is it too soon to jump with joy?

“Of course, I've been meaning to ask you since that time I saw you with that little boy, stitching him up.” he admits, causing you to giggle in shock.

“Really?”

He delivers a soft peck onto your nose, biting into his lower lip. “Uhm, you're an amazing woman. I wanna get to know you, and your daughter.”

He seems to be nervous, patiently waiting for your response but he doesn't move away from you, still wrapped in your embrace even though your frame is smaller.

He's the first man who doesn't run away knowing you've a daughter, but not just that. Yoongi is the first man who managed to make your heart flutter with the simplest acts. It's too soon to talk about him fixing your broken heart or him being the love of your life, but time with him seems nice. The thought of spending it outside of the hospital, trying to get to know him as something more makes you want to yell in excitement.

For now, you hold back your happiness and smile at him.

“I'd be more than happy to get to know you as well.” you admit, enough for him to envelope you even in a tighter hug that makes you squeak in surprise again, but you squeeze him back.

“Stop it,” you chuckle, sitting up from your bed as you watch your boyfriend trying to find his clothes that are scattered all around your room.

You thought sex would help him relax and it did, for twenty minutes that you were sucking him off and then bouncing on his cock. But now that you both reached your high, he's back to his quiet self with tensed muscles. As much as he tries to hide his nervousness and fear, he's doing an awful job with it and it's nothing than amusing to you.

“You're about to meet a four year old, not a monster that's gonna eat your head.” you joke, meeting his glare in response silently telling you he's not in the mood for joking.

“What if she doesn't like me?” he asks, setting on the edge of your bed completely naked, forgetting to find his clothes.

“She will. I told her about you so much, she's excited to meet you.” you assure him, slowly crawling to him as you hug him closer to you.

Both of your bodies are coated with sweat, and you could use a shower, but you can't let this go. He's been tensed from the moment you made plans on introducing Em to him. Of course, he wants to meet her. He was the one who kept being persistent, asking about her all the time and show him the pictures of her on your phone. The truth is, you were waiting for him to naturally set what's the right time to meet your daughter. You've been dating for the past two months, barely making any plans outside of the hospital since you've a child at home.

Your babysitter, which happens to be your neighbor, was kind enough to look after her in late nights while you went on a couple of dates with Yoongi. It's been tearing your heart apart knowing you've your little girl at home, but you still wanted to spend some time with Yoongi. It feels like the right time for them to meet.

“Now come on, let's shower before we have to pick her up,” you nudge him, kissing his cheek before you stand up. “If we're quick enough, we might have a round two.” you suggest, causing him to stand up abruptly, ushering you into your bathroom while you both start to laugh at his eagerness.

When it's the right time to pick up your daughter, Yoongi decides to stay in the car while he tries to occupy himself by playing some games on his phone. His knee bounces even when you open the door to put Em into her car seat. She notices the stranger in your car right away, her words slowly fading away as she went off about her day.

Yoongi slowly turns around, his scared eyes meeting hers as he tries his best to muster a proper smile. You've never seen him being so nervous. This must be more important to him than it's to you. You know Em is going to love him, that's why you're not worried about it too much.

“Em, this is Yoongi. You remember him? I was telling you about him.” you tell her, putting on her seat belt as she slowly nods.

“Yoongs?” she asks, her eyes looking up at you as you nod with a smile.

When you make sure everything is secured, you go and sit in the driver's seat while Yoongi looks at you. “Yoongs?” he asks confusingly.

“Yeah, she made you a nickname.” you shrug, causing him to slowly nod and for the first time, you see one honest smile lightening up his face.

“Hey, Em, I brought you something.” Yoongi says, gaining her attention right away which causes him to chuckle.

“You did?” she asks, her eyes widening as he pulls out a pony plushie, the very one she has been begging you to buy her for a few weeks now. “Pony! Yes!” she starts to bounce in her car seat, already reaching for the toy that Yoongi gladly gives her.

“What do you say, Em?” you speak up, your eyes solely on the road, although you wish you could see their exchange better.

“Thank you, Yoongs! I love you!” she almost yells, the both of you erupting in laughter as your four year old daughter keeps happily squealing for the rest of the ride.

“See? She loves you.” you tell him quietly, a huge smile stretching on your lips as Yoongi joins you, looking back at Em to admire her and her happiness.

“So, he's just your friend, right?”

You hide your smile, slowly cutting the vegetable as you hear Em letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Yes, dad!” she whines for the hundredth time, your heart tingling at the sound of the name leaving her mouth.

It's been almost a year since Yoongi officially adopted her and became her father, filled that empty spot that her heart was craving for. She wanted to have a father for so long and now she has to put up with overprotective Yoongi almost every day.

“Okay, okay. I'll be here while the two of you play.” he reminds her, causing her to groan but she doesn't say anything in response, coloring her drawings in silence.

Yoongi walks up to you, hugging you from the back while his chin is propped on your shoulder.

“She's seven years old. Don't you think it's too soon to worry about her dating life?” you tease him, giggling when he slightly bites onto your shoulder.

“I don't want someone to break her small heart. Have you seen those heart eyes whenever she talks about him? That is not just friend.” he informs you, causing you to laugh at him as he groans in annoyance at you.

You put all the vegetables into the pot and turns the stove on, as you turn to him. He takes your hand, twisting the wedding ring in his hold as he smiles down at it.

“I love you.” he tells you, your heart warming once again as if it's the first time he said it.

“I love you.” you tell him, kissing him on his small and plump lips.

You turn around, glancing at your daughter that stares at you with disgust on her face.

“See? You don't have to worry about her dating anytime soon.” you point out, causing him to roll his eyes at you before he's kissing you again, this time accompanied with your daughter's fake coughing in the background.

Indeed, love works in a weird way.

#networkbangtan #bts smut #bts fluff #bts au #bts drabble #yoongi x reader #yoongi drabble #yoongi scenario #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #personasintro

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fandomlovingfreak · 4 years ago

Text

You Can’t Marry a Malfoy (11/12)

George Weasley/Reader

Ch1. Ch2. Ch3. Ch4. Ch5. Ch6. Ch7. Ch8. Ch9. Ch10.

Rating: E for everyone (no warnings apply except a little alcohol in the middle I suppose)

Word Count: 1163

AO3 Link

Summary: When reader comes running to George Weasley because her parents have arranged a Pureblood marriage between her and Draco Malfoy, what will George do? He's been secretly in love with his best friend since their time at Hogwarts, and he knows he can't let her go. He definitely can't let Malfoy have her.

Notes: Wedding time! One more chapter posted tomorrow (hopefully) and then a possible prequel in the upcoming week(s)! Thank you so much for comments, likes, reblogs, and following! I’ve had a great time writing this piece:)

**(y/f/n) = your full name

Enjoy

"Get up!" Molly's voice rings through his small bedroom. George groans, moving his pillow over his head.

"George Fabian Weasley!" She pulls the pillow away from him, "You have to get up, dear."

"Five more minutes," he reaches blindly for the pillow.

"You have to go help your father set up the tent." she begins to open the blinds.

"Mum, that's too bright…"

"Good. Get up. We have a tight schedule today."

Finally, it hits him. He's getting married today. Grinning, he rubs his tired eyes. Getting dressed in plain clothing, he saunters down the staircase to the kitchen where the rest of his family is eating.

"Morning," he takes the mug Ginny offers him.

"Morning," Charlie greets him, "ready for today?"

George takes a sip of the warm liquid, setting it down on the counter, "Yup."

***

Very reminiscent of Bill and Fleur's wedding, he and his brothers help set up the tent on one side of the lawn for the reception. Ginny, Hermione, and his mother set up a little altar on the other side. Hermione charms some of the natural foliage to create a wedding arch. The vines fall delicately down the back of the arch, creating a backdrop of the rich green color. Ginny hand places small flowers throughout the arch as Molly sets up white chairs in front.

George walks nearby, "looks good."

"Thank you," Ginny turns to look at him. "(y/n) wanted yellow flowers everywhere. Do you think you could charm the flowers on the back of the seats?"

"Of course," he causes the flowers to grow up the backs of the seats, also causing them to brighten in color by casting an anti-wilting charm on them. For good measure, he enchants the flowers to sparkling slightly in the sunlight. "Look good?"

"Brilliant! How did you make them sparkle like that?"

"A special charm I've been working on. When's (y/n) getting here?"

"Sometime soon. We're going to be in my room. You should probably get inside before she gets here."

***

He gets dressed in his old room for the last time, tying his tie in the mirror.

"Not bad," he checks himself out in the mirror. The morning coat's dark material is very opposite of his normal attire, but his mum had begged him to wear something "wedding appropriate" for a groom. She wasn't wrong when she said he'd look good in the dark coat.

"How'd mum get you into that?" Ron teases from the doorway.

"No idea," George grins, "but I look bloody good."

"Gonna ditch the earth tones now?"

He snorts, "never."

***

Bill hands him a brown leather flask. "What's this?"

"Firewhiskey, of course." His lips twist with interest before taking a large drink from the flask. The liquid burns his throat deliciously, landing in the pit of his stomach. He passes the flask on to Ron, who passes it to Harry, who passes it to Percy, and so on. Before long, they're all joking, messing around like they did when they were children.

"Hand the flask over here, Ron," George puts his hand out.

"Oi! Don't you dare mate. He can't be out of it at the altar." Bill snatches the flask away before anyone can have another drink.

"Merlin's beard... I'm getting married." George's eyes widen, looking towards Ron.

"I'm glad you've realized, mate." Harry laughs.

"Oh wow--" He grins stupidly.

"Mum's gonna be pissed if you let him go out there, piss drunk." Percy comments, laughing.

***

They manage to sober him up slightly before escorting him down the stairs past the door that's loud with the girls' laughter. He can hear (y/n)'s enchanting laughter through the walls driving him insane. He'd give anything to go into that room and steal her away for a moment alone.

His mother shakes her head when she notices how they're guiding him out of the house.

"Don't give him any more," Molly plucks the flask from Bill's hand, ushering the boys out of her kitchen with another disapproving look.

Everything seems to get real the moment he's in front of the small crowd of their family and friends. (y/n)' s parents sit in the front right while his parents sit on the front left. They agreed on a small guest list. (y/n) hadn't wanted a whole affair. The day was supposed to be about them, she had insisted. Only a few classmates, close friends, and closely related family were in the small crowd, which was perfectly fine to him.

He gives his mom and dad a look before soft music starts up. Charlie walks down the aisle with (y/n) 's maid-of-honor Amelia on his arm. He's whispering something to her as they walk together, and Amelia is giggling, flirtatiously smiling at his brother. Charlie leaves a space between himself and George. A space for Fred.

Next is Percy with (y/n) 's friend Audrey, then Bill and Fleur, Ron and Hermione, and finally Harry and Ginny. The music changes, and Victoire walks down the aisle throwing yellow sunflower petals all around. She grins at everyone, definitely thinking this gathering was for her.

"Uncle George!" She runs towards the altar. The audience laughs as George squats down to pick her up.

"Hello V. You look very pretty in your dress."

"Thank you," Victoire giggles.

"Victoire, darling. Come here, please." Fleur motions for her daughter. Setting her down, she runs to stand next to her mum as (y/n) 's father steps out the front door. He holds out his hand to help (y/n) down the few stairs. He can only just see her, but his heart starts to rapidly beat in his chest. The closer she walks towards him, the faster his heart seems to beat. His face physically hurts from how wide he's grinning. He's never seen a more beautiful person in his entire life. The white material of her dress fits her body perfectly, hugging in all the right places. He swears later on that (y/n) glimmered in the afternoon sunlight as she walked down the aisle.

She's grinning and reaching for his arm as he's reaching for hers...and finally her hands in his. They stand across from each other. He's so transfixed by her, he hardly notices the witch in front of them speaking until she's asking him to repeat after her. Somehow he gets through the vows without many blunders.

"And do you (y/f/n) take George Fabian Weasley to be your husband, to live together in marriage? To cherish in friendship and love today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you live. To trust and love him faithfully in strength and in weakness, in success and in disappointment?"

"I do" (y/n) squeezes his hands in hers.

"By the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I now pronounce you Wizard and Witch. You may seal your commitment to one another with a kiss."

George doesn't even hesitate, pulling her into his arms and kissing her.

His wife.

Taglist: @paigeyisme

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erin-bo-berin · 5 years ago

Text

Double The Surprise

MASTERLIST

Prequel to Thing 1 and Thing 2

Surprise! A new fic, two days in a row? I know, who am I? This was an anon request to do a gender reveal party of the twins from Thing 1 and Thing 2, so I made it sort of a prequel. I’ve linked the fic in case you haven’t read it. One thing to note, I included Diana, but in a more normal state so no Alzheimer's or schizophrenia. I’ve wanted to write something where she was free of any illnesses, so I added her in this like that. Besides, she’d DEFINITELY be there. Also, take a shot every time I say pink and blue, lord I was getting tired of saying that myself so sorry about that. Enjoy some Spencer and the team cuteness. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 3,285

You knew it was a mistake to let Penelope be in charge.

Not that she was bad at it at all, in fact she was wonderful. But when she had a secret that she actually wanted to keep a surprise, her lips were sealed tighter than your old jeans.

Penelope Garcia—the technical analyst at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit and your husband, Spencer Reid’s teammate, coworker and friend—was the best at planning parties. Which is how she had gotten you and Spencer excited about the idea of a potential gender reveal party for the baby you and Spencer were expecting this fall.

You were currently 21 weeks and a bit larger than normal, although your doctor wasn’t worried. She had explained it could be due to the baby being bigger—your husband was over 6 feet after all—or perhaps you were a bit further along in your pregnancy than she first thought. Either way, at the last appointment, she had assured you that everything was looking fine.

The last appointment was also when you were able to find out the sex of the baby.

Since you and Spencer really wanted to have a gender reveal party with your friends and the other team members of the BAU, you had invited Garcia to come along to the appointment. She would be informed of the sex and also have the results handed to her in a manila envelope, for the baker who would create the cake.

You were regretting your decision though because you were currently dying to know what baby Reid would be. It was amazing though, Garcia hadn’t even breathed the hint of a clue.

She was the worst person to keep a secret, so it was ironic when she refused to give into your pleading.

The gender reveal party was going to be this upcoming weekend, still a few days away and you were struggling with the anticipation.

The party details and planning helped curb your desire to know, though.

When Garcia had first suggested the idea, not long after you and Spencer announced your pregnancy, you were slightly hesitant about it. You didn’t know much about them or if anyone would even come. With the help of Penelope and her promise to take care of everything, you started coming around to the idea.

She was an excellent party planner because even though she took care of everything, she left plenty of room for you and Spencer to decide on details and things you wanted. Many nights were spent laying in bed, the two of you looking at gender reveal party ideas on Pinterest.

You actually thought Spencer was more excited for this party then you were. It was nice to know he was just as excited for it, though.

“Do you think she’d cave and tell us what we’re having if we surprise her with a red velvet cupcake?” you’d asked Spencer, one night that week.

“It’d probably be tempting for her, but I doubt it,” he answered you, “In fact, I’m surprised she’s kept quiet this long. She’s the worst at keeping secrets.”

“I know. I had her pegged to tell us within a day,” you huffed.

Spencer chuckled, kissing your head.

“Just think, it will be worth the wait when we find out what we’re having on Saturday.”

•

Surprisingly, Saturday did come rather fast. Although at the same time, it felt like eons to you.

You were bursting with excitement for the party, which was to be held at David Rossi’s house.

Garcia had given you and Spencer strict instructions to not arrive until after 2 pm. She, with the help of her boyfriend Luke Alvez we’re going to be setting up everything for the party to keep the final display a surprise as well.

You were just as eager to wear the new outfit that Garcia had bought for you to wear—she really had thought of everything.

You had to admit, the ensemble was pretty cute.

You’d dressed in the sleeveless maxi dress that was designed in an alternating pink and blue chevron style and white flats that were partially hidden by the long skirt of the dress. Your bump was fully on display in the outfit, but it just made the dress seem even cuter.

It also helped that it was extremely comfy as well.

The finishing touch for the outfit was a flower crown. Yes, a flower crown. Garcia went all out when she did things, that’s for sure.

It was a thin band of flowers that sat nicely on your head. One side was decorated with pink flowers while the other half had blue. With the entire outfit complete, you had to admit, Garcia definitely had picked a cute ensemble.

Spencer had come in just as you’d finished getting ready and whistled, making you blush.

“Why if it isn’t the sexiest baby mama around,” he grinned slyly, wrapping his arms around you from behind, “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“You look rather charming yourself,” you chuckled.

His appearance wasn’t that much different than it was from his work attire. His suit pants and dress shirt were the same as usual, but Garcia had gotten him a pink and blue chevron tie to match your dress.

“Not exactly something I’d wear every day, but I like it,” he smiled, “Ready to find out what our baby is?”

“More than ever.”

•

The first thing you saw when entering Rossi’s backyard was a sign on the iron gate door to his backyard.

There were a handful of pink and blue cardboard, cutout circles hanging on the gate door, along with a pink and blue cutout onesie that said We’re here for the sex. It made you laugh. This definitely had Garcia written all over it.

“I’m sure Rossi is thrilled with that hanging on his gate door,” Spencer laughed.

He took your hand and pushed the gate open into a pink and blue wonderland.

You gasped as the two of you walked further into the backyard. Not only was the actual decorations and set up amazing, but the turnout was just as shocking.

The entire team was there; Emily Prentiss, Matt Simmons, his wife Kristy and all five kids—you’d specifically told Penelope that all the BAU kids were welcomed, you had a special place in your heart for them, just as she did.

JJ was there with her husband Will and her two boys Henry and Michael. Tara Lewis was there as well, always ready for a get together. Of course David Rossi was there as well with his third wife Krystall that he’d recently married again.

Luke and Penelope were of course in attendance, but what surprised you most was seeing the unexpected and surprise guests that Garcia had most definitely arranged to show up.

Former Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner was there with Jack, who was now taller than you. They both greeted you with a hug and their congratulations. Jack said he was mostly excited for cake and you couldn’t argue with that.

Derek Morgan, wife Savannah and little Hank Spencer Morgan had made it too. These kids were growing faster than you would like because now little Hank was 4 quickly approaching 5.

“Pretty boy!” Morgan greeted, hugging Spencer tightly, “It’s about time you became a father.”

You greeted Savannah and Hank, who was in his mother’s arms, suddenly a lot shyer than normal. After speaking to them both for a minute, they too went back to socializing with the others.

What was most surprising was seeing your parents and Spencer’s mom, Diana Reid.

“Mom! Dad!” you exclaimed, hugging them.

“Mom!” Spencer said, hugging Diana, “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“You think I was going to miss my grandbaby’s first party? I think not,” she grinned.

After greeting your parents, you hugged Diana yourself.

“It’s so good to see you Mrs. Reid,” you kissed her cheek.

It had been a little bit since you’d last traveled to Las Vegas with Spencer to visit her, not long after you’d married. Before that, you’d seen her at the wedding.

“Oh honey, you know I told you to call me Diana,” she beamed, “You’re the Mrs. Reid around here. How are you feeling?”

She rubbed a hand across your belly and you smiled.

“Feeling rather large, if I do say so myself,” you chuckled.

“Well there’s a good reason for that,” she winked, making your brows furrow in confusion.

Garcia was just on her way over to the three of you as Diana spoke and suddenly, she sped up, rushing over.

“Diana! How about I get you some punch and refreshments!” Garcia exclaimed, leading Diana away.

She turned to you and Spencer as she led his mother away.

“Take some time and look around before we do the reveal!” Garcia hollered.

“Come on, I wanna check things out,” you told Spencer.

You were beaming so big that he couldn’t help but chuckle and indulge you. He was pretty curious to check out everything too.

First off, there were pink and blue balloons everywhere.

At the table where the food and refreshments were at, were gold letter balloons that spelled out the phrase Oh baby.

The actual food spread was rather impressive too. There were finger sandwiches of chicken salad, turkey and ham, mixed nuts, vegetable plates with dip and of course, much to your delight was Alvez’s homemade salsa and guacamole, along with chips to dip. You’d be eating good this afternoon, that’s for sure.

The sweets were all gender themed, which was an adorable touch.

There were blue and pink chocolate covered strawberries, blue and pink cake pops—a mustache on the blue cake pop sticks and a bow on the pink ones—and hilariously enough, there were M&Ms in two bowls. One with peanuts were labeled Nuts and the other with plain was labeled No Nuts, hence the mystery of the baby’s sex.

“That’s ingenious,” Spencer commented, laughing, grabbing a handful of some.

There were blue plates with matching napkins and pink plates with pink napkins, along with alternating blue and pink jars that held the opposing color of plastic ware in them.

At the very end of the refreshments table sat two huge glass jugs with spigots filled with blue and pink drinks. The blue was named Bouncing Blue Punch whereas the pink was Sweet Pink Lemonade.

“Wow, Luke and Penelope really went all out,” you gaped, amazed.

“And you haven’t even seen the best parts,” Garcia said, seemingly appearing out of thin air next to you, “Come on!”

She tugged on your arm excitedly, dragging you to another section of the party. You laughed, trying to keep up with her, looking behind you at a grinning Spencer who was following behind the two of you.

The first thing she had to show you, made you tear up thanks to the damn pregnancy hormones.

It was a canvas of animals in a little hot air balloon and the “balloons” were made up of thumbprints from all the guests, in the color of their guess of the baby’s gender. Even the kids had all done one.

There were a variety of pink and blue thumbprints, each one signed by the person. At the bottom of the canvas it read: Oh the places you’ll go.

“We all made our guesses and I put this together a week ago so it would be dry and ready to display for today,” Garcia beamed.

“I love it,” you said, your hand covering your mouth, still shocked at how beautiful it was, “Spence, this is going up in the nursery for sure.”

“Definitely,” he nodded, looking at it himself.

“This is amazing. Thank you, Garcia,” you breathed.

“Oh honey, we’re just getting started on the tour. Come on, there’s more to see.”

The next display was another interactive guessing game.

This was a chalkboard that read Twinkle, Twinkle, little star. How we wonder what you are!

One side of the board represented the boy votes and the other represented the girl votes.

“This is where everyone was able to vote as they came in with their guess,” she said.

You looked closer. So far a girl was winning by two.

“I also included two more interactive little games,” Garcia said, leading you to two more chalkboards.

One had Guess The Date written on it and the entire month of September written out. Your due date was approximately September 25th, which was listed at the top and sticky notes covered the dates of different attendee’s guesses on when the baby would arrive.

“Oh that is super cute,” you laughed.

Your eyes scanned over the numerous guesses.

Some had guessed as early as September 6th and others had guessed as late as September 30th.

“Pinterest, I’m telling you,” Garcia quipped.

The next board had a list of girls and boys names. Underneath the board and easel on each side was a basket, in the matching colors, slips of paper inside.

“This here is where the guests have tried to guess what your number one name for a boy and a girl is,” Garcia explained.

“So that explains why you asked for our top name for a boy and a girl,” Spencer mused.

“Yup.”

You looked at each column. There were a total of five names on each side.

The boys’ column included:

Carl

Aidan

Luke

Alexander

Matthew

The girls’ column included:

Daisy

Abrielle

Gabriella

Penelope

Paige

“Penelope? Luke?” you chuckled.

“Hey, for all they know you could be naming a kid after us!” she protested.

You smiled, seeing yours and Spencer’s top two picks on the lists—Abrielle for a girl or Alexander for a boy.

“Last but not least,” Garcia beamed, “You gotta see the cake. It’s amazing.”

The three of you walked to a table in the middle of the party where there were two chairs and a cake resting on the table.

“Obviously since it’s baby Reid, you two will be the center of attention,” Penelope said.

On the table was a beautiful cake decorated with blue and pink icing roses. One side was strictly pink roses and the other blue. The finishing touch was the various sized edible pearls that had been delicately placed in the center of each flower.

You audibly gasped.

“Penelope, it’s gorgeous!”

“Isn’t it though? I was in awe when I picked it up,” she commented.

“So the inside will be the reveal, right?” Spencer asked.

“Yes sir,” she smiled, “You guys ready to find out the gender?”

“Yes, please!”

You were practically bouncing on your heels like a child eagerly awaiting candy.

“First, I wanted to give you guys a little gift,” Garcia said, rushing over to the table where Luke sat, holding a gift bag.

“Garcia, you know we said no gifts!” you protested.

“Yeah, I know. But you know me,” she scurried back over, handing you the bag, “I can’t keep huge secrets.”

“What are you talking about?” you laughed, opening the bag.

Inside was a simple, cute, white baby onesie.

On the front, it said We’re having a baby! with the word baby scratched out.

“Why’s the word baby crossed out?” Spencer asked, peering over your shoulder at it.

He seemed to be just as puzzled as you were.

“Wait, there’s something else in the bag,” you observed, reaching in to pull out the second object.

It was a second white onesie that read Make that TWO babies!

“I couldn’t keep such a big secret obviously, so I told the entire team and they wanted to chip in on a present to announce it to you—this isn't all the gift though.”

You were stunned beyond belief and absolutely overjoyed.

“Twins?! Spence, did you hear that? We’re having twins!”

You turned to see your husband as white as a ghost, starting to sway.

“I-I-I think I need to sit for a moment,” he stammered, falling into the nearby metal folding chair.

“Spence, you okay?”

You rushed to his side—as fast as your pregnant body would let you, that.

“Yeah, fine,” he muttered, still looking dazed, “Everything just started spinning there for a moment.”

Garcia was by his side with an unused paper plate, fanning him, just in case he was actually going to pass out.

The rest of the party’s eyes were on the spectacle, all of them clearly amused.

“Who knew the kid could create twins! Even his sperm is brilliant,” Derek hollered.

Everyone laughed at that and the fact that Savannah immediately stuck a sandwich in his mouth to quiet him.

“There are kids here, Derek!” she whispered loudly.

“Twins, huh?” Spencer asked.

The poor thing looked dumbstruck.

“You sure you’re okay Spencer?” you asked, worried.

It’s like it took him a moment for it to finally sink in because he turned to you, a big grin on his face.

“Y/N, we’re having twins!”

He grabbed your face, kissing you, not caring about all the onlookers. You turned scarlet when he pulled away, a tad bit embarrassed that everyone was watching, but you were just as happy as him, so you couldn’t complain.

“My baby boy is going to have twins,” Diana smiled, coming over to wrap her son in a hug, “I was so excited when I heard that I almost ruined the surprise earlier!”

“Oh so that’s what you meant?” you asked, laughing.

That was definitely a good reason for you to be larger than normal. Your body was home to not one but two babies for the next little while.

“You knew, mom?” Spencer asked.

“Oh of course, Penelope called everyone,” Diana answered.

“You know I can’t keep a secret!” Garcia exclaimed, “This was my biggest one yet! It was the only way I could make it without bursting.”

“Speaking of everyone else,” JJ said, bringing up another, slightly larger gift bag, “This is from all of us, Hotch and Morgan included.”

“You wanna open it?” you asked Spencer.

He shook his head, indicating you could, so you did.

You pulled out a long, wood, plaque that read:

Our family is growing by

4 feet

and

2 hearts

At the bottom, there was an engraving.

Reid Twins

It was absolutely perfect.

There were definitely tears on your end as you made your rounds hugging everyone and saying your thank yous.

You made your way back to the center table to Garcia, who you gave another huge hug.

“Thank you so much for putting together such an amazing party,” you said.

“It was my pleasure,” she smiled.

“Cut the cake already!” Both Jack and Henry hollered simultaneously, making everyone chuckle.

“I can’t argue with that, now can I?” you responded.

You managed to pull Spencer away from the conversation he was having with some of the guests and you both put your hands on the knife, cutting through the cake. It reminded you of your wedding reception, but this was ten times more exciting; you were expanding your family with the man you were in love with.

The entire backyard counted down.

“THREE!”

You looked over at Spencer, a big smile on your face. At this point, you didn’t think much more could surprise you than the news of having twins.

“TWO!”

He winked at you, silently reassuring you that no matter what the result, you two would raise these babies as a team.

“ONE!”

You both lifted up the slice, revealing a two layer cake; one layer was pink and one was blue.

“It’s a boy and a girl!” Spencer cheered.

You were pretty sure this day couldn’t get any better.

You and Spencer would soon be welcoming fraternal twins; Abrielle Jade Reid and Spencer Alexander Reid.

Little Abbie and Alex were going to be incredibly loved.

TAG LIST: @dreatine @reid-187 @groovyreid @reidslibra @suvikamahes98blr @fuckthealarm @iamburdened @cindywayne @queenofmischief @tinyminy88 @sundippedprincess @missprettyboy @hushlilbabydoll @sammy-jo1977 @haileymorelikestupid @lemonypink @multifandommandy @teamkiall @redbullchick @ifeelloved @one-sweet-gubler @nanocoool @delightfullyspeedyearthquake @unsteadyimagines @ughitsbaby @inkwiet @pennythetechgoddess @capt-engr-ssa @sixx-sic-sixx @spencersdolore @reidsstudies @disney-dreams-world @chocolatecalzoneherringbonk @mggwhore @andiebeaword @cupcake525 @be-the-bravest @gretaamyk @likelovers @hopebaker @prisonreid @httpnxtt @daviddoughboy @pastathighs @marvels-gurl @blushingspencer @pretty-boy-gubler @victorzsaszmydaddy @inlovewithamess @im-inlovewith-mycar

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mallory-a-bond · 5 years ago

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Darkened Love Ever Blossoming (2)

The king is the one in the double parenthesis and in bold. Just so you know. Also long.

Days would pass on and I have been a life I never knew existed. I am eating foods I have never seen before and I am experiencing kindness and respect I have never received before...I even got really good friends. My lover, my king, the one that has brought me this glorious new life, gives me only love and treats me as his equal ((bullshit. She’s my goddess and you can fucking fight me on it.)) despite that he has a very foul mouth, he’s very honest and outright with his feelings, ((what the fuck is shame? Is that some sort a cookie or pastry from her homeland? My Starlight won’t answer me. She laughs every time I ask)) he’s absolutely shameless but I’m incredibly thankful that he has tact. I’m also incredibly thankful that the staff knocks nice and loud before entering. He’s also patient...scarily patient, like no wonder other kingdoms fear him kind of patient. His patience also extends to those that he has claimed as his lover ((I’m a thousand things...I’m not a fuckwit with flies flying between my ears)), he will wait for permission for any sort of affection, and he will not pull any shit involving the bedroom or any place that fucking can take place ((and there’re a lot of places. Trust me. You’ll have a wild ride if you have a high enough drive)), he will wait for who knows how long until permission is given. Once love is established, he becomes a giant ass cuddle bug. If he sees me even in passing, he’ll come over and pick me up and hold me close, it truly doesn’t help matters when he releases his other sets of arms if he believes his primary two aren’t enough. And it doesn’t matter to him where you are either; he sees me he’ll hug and snuggle me; in the middle of conversation? He’ll traverse through shadow and hug me from behind and bury his head into my neck all silent as death, letting me continue my conversation with whomever I’m conversing with at the time. Reading a book? He’ll hold you again from behind with me in between his legs and place his chin on top of my head and purr like a cat. He’s busy in the throne room where he conducts business with his advisors and warriors and he sees me with a book in my hands that I’m having difficulty with and my tutor is nowhere to be seen? I’ll be in his lap with his arms wrapped securely around my waist within seconds of him seeing me, he’ll carry on as normal while the others are trying their damnedest not to laugh. If he sees me even walking by and he’s a cuddly mood there’s literally nothing anyone could do to stop him. But it isn’t all bad, he helps me with words and things that I have a hard time understanding.

Not only is he a cuddle bug. He’s a pretty spoiling spouse. If I even give a passing glance at a pair of earrings when going through town, it’ll be on my nightstand in multiple colors with necklaces, bracelets and rings if it has them. I tell him about a pastry or treat I once had a child, he’ll summon the chefs and try and recreate it and won’t stop until perfection is reached. Every request and wish, no matter how selfish or silly is granted and brought with great fanfare. I don’t request for much and he literally begs me to let him spoil me. Despite my upbringing to not ask for too much ((I still curse them for it. If only I could get rid of them without causing my beloved to have a broken heart.)) but when I do, which is normally him spending some time with me ((praise the dark)), to which he would literally put it into his schedule to spend at least 3 hours with me daily. He truly doesn’t mind spoiling his lover however he can. He has the means too, if you do not want items or anything material ((I literally have to beg to get her to go shopping)) he’ll do whatever activity you ask to do with him or just spend time with him; he doesn’t even give a damn if it’s in the middle of his work, if his starlight wants cuddles, documents be damned his starlight is gonna get cuddles. Many would see this as pros for a spouse but I can assure you, if you don’t keep him in check; it’ll end badly. He can be a bit of a hothead, he loves seeing the mind churning and clicking when he speaks as his words are vague or are incredibly cryptic. His emotions are only transparent with the one he loves and no one else, he lives for the shocked faces of his court as they see his little human lover turn him from a powerful intimidating king that can eat little pompous pricks for breakfast and use their bones or house crest to pick his teeth into that of a cuddly puppy or whiny child when said tiny fragile lover says no on turning a particular prick into paste when offended/provoked. It’s fun seeing him pout when I take away his sword that he intended to use on a noblewoman that made a comment on my attire or the fact I don’t throw parties (he’s the one that threw the welcoming celebration. I’m too much of chicken shit to throw a party of my own) ((not that I’m complaining)). Nobles and advisers alike all flock to me once I ask him to get me a glass ((I always get her a goblet. She always did favor the crystal ones)) of cider, all asking me how I managed to get this literal beast of a male wrapped around my little finger and turn him into my pet, guard dog to some of the ladies. To which I always shrug and he’ll answer with a giant smug ass grin on his face, “love does strange things to people. I am no fool to fight it.” and he’ll hand me a crystal goblet filled to the brim with cider, the ice made of the same drink. He’ll also give me a small plate stacked high with macaroons, he’s more than willing to hold the plate while I snack on the macaroons while the cider is in my other hand. He lives for the shock, awe and just plain mind imploding on themselves as he practically becomes his wife’s servant as the woman in question sips on the cider and snacks on the macaroons. Or anything that he thinks that she needs to try. When he’s hotheaded, I’ve always remained calm...I’ve never seen him angry. Ever. When I tell any of the servants or someone about this, be it in the palace or when I go to town. I am sat down in a comfortable, given a freshly made milkshake that’s made extra cold and sweet or some incredibly cold drink and they give me tea that is beyond scalding and spicy. I am always surprised about this. The tea is always different degrees of hot as well as different flavors depending on the person spilling the tea but it’s always spicy. I always drink my milkshake, juice or smoothie slowly as they made it clear that due to the nature of the tea, I need something cold and sweet in order to even handle the heat of the tea. I’ve seen him irritated and irked but never full blown angry, and when I do see him irritated or irked, it’s never at me. He makes it a point to never be angry at me. He will always demanded an explanation from me if I’m involved before he makes a decision. If I’ve been tricked into something that I truly had no idea about, he doesn’t show any emotion at all he wraps his arms around me, the shadows dancing around me as light flickers around as he holds me close to him, kisses the top of my head trying to calm me down as I would be crying my eyes out as I believe I’m going to be killed, “there’s no need for tears.” he whispers, “I know you wouldn’t do something like this consciously.” he purrs, “Shhhh. I believe you.” He finishes and he then teleports me to our shared bedroom, the door sealed shut. Just because I’ve never seen him angry. That doesn’t mean I haven’t seen the aftermath. Or heard the screams of his victims when he unleashes his fury. Using me as a means to get to my husband is the worst decisions to ever come to pass. Especially when I am unaware of what I’ve been doing. It will end badly for you and all that aided you. The skies will be cloaked in black, no stars, no moon; no light...and when the black is lifted, red, pink, white and bits of gray will be coated throughout the entire kingdom...pray there aren’t that many of you. Tricking me, doesn’t make him angry. It makes him murderously furious. He will be out for blood. He’ll make it a fucking point that I never see him take a life or be anywhere near him when angry. No matter how hard I try to be there to soothe him and possibly stop him from wiping out bloodlines. I may not have seen him angry, but I have tried to stop him. I truly have. ((Well, I do not wish to have her see me like that. She has been through enough. I will not be another thing to add for her to worry about. There’re some things we must carry alone, she has hers...I have mine.))

The throne room doesn’t have the tradition two thrones to represent the two rulers, it’s a large almost round throne that almost seems to be two intertwined to be one. He tells me that it represents a united front. It used to be only one throne but it then evolved to the one I always see before me. He made it a point that we hold equal power as he would involve me in his duties and if he can’t make a decision he’ll come to me for my input. I actively avoid holding any parties and the staff doesn’t even mind, hell they celebrate that they don’t have to go through the wringer of prepping for a party full of snotty and spoiled noblemen and noblewomen. It never irritated him that I don’t hold any parties. Or anything that involved excessive socializing, in fact; he seems more relaxed than anything else. None of the advisors had raised an issues about it and I have overheard many of their conversations when they believe that there is no one there. And when they believe they are alone, they are truthful. ((...I never knew that...and she has always been quiet when transversing the palace...even though she knows that she’s safe here. Some habits cannot be broken.)) The staff had forgotten that when I walk, I make it a point not to make a sound...if so it is incredibly quiet, when I run, I make no sound so I can’t be tracked. I have spoken with the royal family of my kingdom, the king has made it quite clear that he doesn’t like what I had done in order to save my kingdom and is fishing for any indication of sadness or fear only to be met with something akin to satisfaction, joy and content...not in that order as he always changes tactics when he does his fishing. I only have joy and relief when regarding marrying my king and saving my kingdom from war. He has also ordered his children and wife to do the same. To which they get nothing. I’m truly happy with this exchange and I will do it again if given the chance. I was also given a crystal mirror for my family but it had gotten shattered because of my mother’s screaming (not that I’m complaining. I was planning to smash it with one of white bricks that turn into bubbles of light upon impact) and thus I just keep writing them letters. My husband loves switching out his forms, but his true form is something that only lays in the depths of nightmares that not even children whom could get a pretty good grip of things disturbing dream up. Something that doesn’t scare me as I have been through so much that fear of his true form doesn’t come to me anymore, instead of fear, I see beauty ((something I haven’t encountered that much...or at all.)) and I make it a point to drive it home when I get the chance. Although he changes his form consciously or not, he’s still incredibly beautiful and his smoky hair that can rival the finest of silks when touched is long, normally at his waist or if he’s feeling a little cheeky ((40% of the time)) (99% of the time.) it’s past his ankles, his height also fluctuates but he’s between that of just a bit taller than an orc to that of much confusion to many if he’s got giants within his family and he got the short end of the giant genetics stick. His natural state is the literal definition of deception and illusion, he may seem lanky and weak but come close and you’ll see that he’s incredibly muscular, orcs a plenty made a drinking game of his physique; many got so drunk that my lover actually used his magic to make more sober tanks as so many had gotten so drunk. I look at a few of the Orcs that traverse the palace and openly wonder how they’re still alive when they downed an entire lake of alcohol, I wish I’m joking ((the aftermath may be baffling, but the events are hilarious. If I had the chance to see the surly and curt archive keeper and the almost never joyous captain of the royal guard, smiling, laughing and dancing a jig upon the streets while holding pints of ale and completely drunk off their asses. I thank those fools for making such a game. Dumb, yes. Would I ban it? Oh HELL no. The pros definitely outweigh the cons in this case.)), it became a national pass time before I had come here. But now that I had arrived and has wedded him ((which I thank every deity for)), the game had changed. If I am walking out and about in the city, I get talked into The Starry Tavern, the one tavern that can fit many and connect every tavern and pub throughout the entire continent. Through the beautiful starry stones and gem deposit that is quite literally spouting through the walls and the ground, as The Starry Tavern is underground and the ceiling looks like the stars in the night sky because of all of the stones and gems that are aglow upon it. The game had become more popular than ever since we had wed. Why? Because I do not kiss and tell. And the weddings here are a private affair unless it is the couple’s choice to make it public.

The wedding between myself and husband. Is a ritual just for the two of us. And JUST the two of us. So what happened between the two of us is just for the two of us. No audience, no witnesses. All information is literally up in the wind of what happened on the wedding night and throughout the honeymoon as the location is one of the most sacred places within the country and incredibly important to him. I become practically the initiator of a kingdom wide drinking game and trust me, it gets incredibly competitive. Loosening my lips (from what I’ve been told) is like trying to prying open a dragon’s jaws with a pair of wooden and iron pliers. I had come to a compromise by the pleas of all of the participants (and a few failed bribes from multiple tribes and regions) that I would say ‘drink’ if they are wrong ‘drink double pint’ if they are way off the mark, things like that, and I take a swig of my own drink which is normally a large glass of wine or a pint of craft beer if they are correct. I like this arrangement. I would take at least one swig while the rest have taken three kegs. And the swigs normally come from the barmaids or children not old enough for their own drinks. It has stabbed the pride of men and women of many. Entertaining to say the least. ((I’m so glad she’s enjoys the drunken antics of practically everyone within our kingdom. I sometimes hate it when she cuts it off...I would let them drink themselves to whiteout drunk and see what happens. She stops me from doing just that.)) But I cut off the alcohol as soon as it hit my internal marker for cut off. Which is a dangerously high amount, I know that everyone within the tavern and in this kingdom has a higher tolerance and aren’t like those of my village or my kingdom so I adjusted my meter accordingly. And that includes my husband when he decides to go on a bender with some of his close friends. He loves this game especially when people get ballsy and ask me if I were to be with him during one of these benders ((I may have made a mistake giving her full control over all things alcohol. But a good mistake nonetheless.)), he laughs at all the bribes that are offered to me. I’m completely unwavering and uncompromising when the bribes come my way. It never really ended well for them as I would refuse quite harshly. The Nagas poke me and ask for a sliver of my ‘venom’ while hiding beside or behind my husband or slouched beside my seat. To which I always tell them that I cannot produce said venom even if I tried and I have indeed tried.

But one of my favorite days...is when he takes me to the caves.

#monster boyfriend #exophilia #monster lover #continuation #realm of magic #monster boyfriend x reader

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curlyhairedhoseok · 6 years ago

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prince namjoon of kim ~ love over loyalty

{prologue} {chapter one} {chapter two} {chapter three}

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none other than terrible grammar and whatnot

Your boisterous entrance had caught Prince Namjoon off guard. He was captivated by your beauty and how you held yourself. He found his gaze lingering longer than intended and so did you. You choose the seat across from him and next to your sister, Enya. Enya laughed and whispered something in your ear before you were even able to begin a conversation with Namjoon.

“Enya,” You scolded and shooed her away from you. She had made a comment that Prince Namjoon was staring at your assets in a not so subtle way. You felt a little awkward around Namjoon since you had heard of his intelligence. He was not your average prince-handsome and dumb. You didn’t really know where to start with him until he took the lead.

“So, Princess (Y/N), I hear that you are the next in line for the throne. How do you feel about that?” Namjoon asked, politely.

“It’s a job, is it not? I hear you are looking for a queen to help you stake your claim to the throne against your brothers,” You whispered and you saw his face tighten. Namjoon had quickly learned that you were conniving.

“Well, is that not why you have me here? To find a husband and king for your throne?” He shot back.

“The only difference is, I will always be a queen, but whether you become king or not relies on if one of my sisters wishes to marry you,” You commented as the food was brought out. You had looked over your shoulder to see if anyone was listening but everyone seemed too engrossed in their own conversations. “And Prince Namjoon, I hope that you find what you are looking for here. It would be a shame if you had to return home empty handed.”

“Trust me, I think I have who I want in a nice spot,” He smirked and began talking to his brother, Prince Taehyung. You studied Prince Namjoon and he seemed overly confident with himself. He was not intimidated by you and he had accepted your challenging personality.

Enya elbowed you in the side quickly. You knew it was a warning, it was her way of telling you that you were staring. You kept your eyes trained on him until he looked at you. Smirking, you looked down to your plate of food. He knew your gaze had curiosity embedded in it.

“Walk with me later?” He asked you. You were surprised and he kept himself from letting a chuckle out. “I would like to get to know you.”

You didn’t answer him or even talk to him for the rest of the meal. It wasn’t until Amorita had suggested that everyone move to the gardens. You preferred staying inside than to go out in the gardens during the day. You liked the garden at night since everything looked so different.

You quietly slipped away from the group and made your way to the library. You liked to think that you were alone in the library. That it was just you and the many pieces of writing. But you could feel the presence of someone else.

“You wanted to know more about me? Well, my favorite place is the library,” You told him. Namjoon smiled as he plucked a book from one of the shelves. Your fingers traced the maps laid out on the tables.

“Why?”

“My father and I would come in here when my mother was going crazy,” You smiled at the memories of your mother fretting over every little thing. “He said that it was nice to think about something other than the kingdom, even if only for a few minutes.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything right away in fear of stirring up bad feelings. Even though it had been a year since your father’s passing, he didn’t know if you were okay.

“Your father,” He started, “He was a loving and nobleman.”

“No, he wasn’t,” You told him as you took the book from his hands, “He was a selfish man to many people. He was cruel. Maybe that is why he was so great in battle,” You pondered. You had no problem facing the truth. “But he was my father and I will always be proud of him. He was kind to me when my mother was not. He was a strong leader and I hope to be as strong as him.”

You grabbed another book and slowly turned through the pages. “What about your father? No one really knows much of him, other than he is very smart and apparently was handsome when he was young. According to my mother, anyway.” You mused.

“Well, I don’t get my looks from him and hope I never do. Let’s just say time has not been kind to him,” He joked. “My father is very smart and he is nice but he is unhappy.” He added on a more serious note. Your tilted head asked the question for you.

“My father does not enjoy being king. I don’t blame him. He has been king since he was five after his mother died.” Namjoon explained. You had read about his grandmother and how she didn’t need a king for her throne. She was beautiful, smart, and a fierce warrior. You couldn’t help but think about how each of her traits became expressed in the three of her royal grandsons. Although, Prince Seokjin didn’t get all the looks.

“I don’t think my mother liked being Queen without my father since now she must do much more work,” You giggled a little. “I admire both of my parents, don’t get me wrong, but they have major flaws that I can only hope I didn’t inherit.” You told him as he stole the book from you.

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“I wish to have a marriage filled with love and happiness. I wish to be a kind mother and a kind ruler. I want to be able to help my husband, not only take from him,” You told him.

“Happiness and love are not important to people like us. What is important is our people,” Namjoon protests.

“You can have both,” You tried. “Afterall, are you saying that you will not love or be happy with one of my sisters? Why should I grant them permission to marry you if you are not going to be attentive to them? Why would I allow myself to be in a situation like that?

“I didn’t mean it like that…” He trailed off and you rolled your eyes.

“And to think, Prince Namjoon, that you and I were getting somewhere.” You walked past him and out the grand library doors. He let out a frustrated groan as he tossed the book on the table where his first one was currently residing.

He tried to find you in the castle but he could not. He didn’t want to ask around since he didn’t want to show any favoritism just yet.

“Brother, you look befuddled,” Prince Seokjin said as he came up behind Namjoon. Namjoon shook his brother off as he continued to wander around. Jin had pieced together what was going on when he finally realized that you and Namjoon were missing from the garden tour. “Where are you going?”

“Jin, don’t worry about it,” Namjoon brushed off his brother until Jin pulled Namjoon to face him.

“I’m going to tell you this only because you are my brother and I don’t want you ruining your chances here. Don’t waste your time on her. She was bred to be a queen and born queens are not what you need.” Jin advised. “She will be far too difficult when it comes to controlling her. She will not let you.”

“I’m going to tell you this since clearly, you have the wrong idea. I do not care about whether or not she is a queen. I just need a girl from Alurie and I want one with a brain, not like the ones you seem to be interested in.” Namjoon growled to his brother. Namjoon ripped his arm from his brother’s firm grip.

“Besides, the others are bastard children. Bastard children mean nothing in terms of staking a claim to the Alurie throne.” Namjoon added. Ever since their father had announced the race to find a bride for the throne Jin had been relentlessly annoying Namjoon about any woman that he had shown even remote interest in. Jin had been saying that no woman was good enough for the Kim throne. But Namjoon was not going to let his brother take this opportunity away from him.

‘Any man in their right mind would want the future Queen of Alurie’, Namjoon told himself.

_________________________

Hours had passed and all the Royals were on their own doing various tasks before dinner had brought them together again. Enya had been walking with you when you entered the dining hall.

You had been wearing one of your finest dresses which was quite the contrast to the chemise that you had worn to lunch. Your tiara perched on top of your head. Amorita immediately took note of your attire but she simply smiled. Namjoon had been seated next to you, and before the food was served he tried to talk to you.

“I would like to explain myself from earlier,” He said lowly so that only you could hear him.

“There is no need,” You assured him. “Oh, and I heard what you said to Jin. I would keep it down if I were you,” You added as the first course was placed in front of everyone. Namjoon sat confused as everyone began eating.

Your mother was the first one to speak after the meal was finished. “I would like to announce that in a month’s time my youngest daughter will have her coronation. I would like to cordially invite all of you to the ceremony.”

“Anything for the future of my closest ally,” King Hoseok nodded. Hoseok had nodded his head to you and you returned the nod in thanks.

“Long live the future queen,” Namjoon said to you as the meal continued.

#bts au #namjoon series #rm series #bts au series #royal bts #royal au #love over loyalty #prince namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon #bts series

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silverineontherun · 6 years ago

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A Shance/Jeith Valentine’s Fic

No, aliens didn’t brainwash me. I’m still your good ol’ KL stan, but this time I’m bringing a humble (and late) offering to my two wives, kunfetti and @birdsandivory, who deal with me on a daily basis, support me and make my life better. Also, I admit I’m like a lousy husband who smashes together two festivities because this was going to be a Xmas present, but the whole premise was much better for Valentine’s so... here we are. I hope you like it! <3

There are three parts: An introduction, a Shance fic and a Jeith fic. You can pick which one to read first, or not read the other if it isn’t your cup of tea! // LINKS MAY NOT WORK ON MOBILE, please try reading on pc in that case!

T rated, around 2.5k each part, Canon divergence, set somewhere in S8 I guess (but who cares, right?), Atlas background. Lance and James make a deal to get their men on this special date. Enjoy!

*****

It’s the most unlikely alliance to ever exist. It entails swallowing his pride and clenching his teeth for it. But all’s fair in love and war, and there’s really no better way to achieve the goal this time.

At least that is Lance’s conclusion, as he waits for the missing piece of the puzzle to appear, hoping his plan will work.

“Griffin,” he calls, intercepting James just outside the gym. The pilot raises an eyebrow and gets closer to the paladin, drinking from his water bottle and making a questioning grunt.

Lance sighs. They never exchanged more words than necessary before, given that silent bad blood they had since their Garrison days but... he thinks this is necessary, after all.

“Hey, dude. So, uh, been meaning to ask… What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?”

James chokes on his water, spitting part of it. Lance gets out of the way just in time, frowning.

“Gross!”

“Wh-why are you even asking, McClain?!” asks James, still coughing.

Lance realizes too late that his wording may have been slightly confusing and, scrunching his nose, he hurries to add:

“Wait, no, nonono, no one is asking you out! Jeez, dude. I just have something important to discuss with you about it.” He crosses his arms and cocks his hip, staring at James from head to toe, the pilot looking flustered in his gym attire. Surprisingly, not at bad sight. Would this really work? In all fairness, if it did, he’d be doing a favor for a bro in the way, so it’s not like he is twisting things for his own benefit only… right?

Right. But he needs to confirm his suspicions first, and since time presses, subtlety is a luxury he can’t afford. So…

“Say, Griffin... You have the hots for Keith, don’t you?” he asks, blunt and direct.

Another fit of coughing has James now tearing up, completely flushed. Lance growls, irritated.

“C’mon, dude, pull yourself together!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” yells James, but when other members of the Atlas crew look at him scandalized, he lowers his tone, still beet red. “Why are you asking me these things?!”

“I said I need to discuss something important! Actually, more like ask for a favor, I guess, though I think it could work both ways,” confesses Lance, scratching his chin.

“What does it have to do with— What the—?”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

“I HAVEN’T—”

“Ugh, man, c’mon! Okay, listen, I have no reason to trust you, and you have no reason to trust me, but know that if I’m doing this, it’s only because I’m desperate,” Lance declares. His eyebrows knit in the middle as he gets menacingly close to James. “So, I need your help and I’m gonna explain why. However, if you tell anybody about what you’re about to hear, you’ll find yourself mysteriously tossed into the trash shuttle to never be found again…”

“You come to me, attack me with random questions, threaten me and expect me to help you? Are you serious?” asks James, baffled.

“Yes! Exactly. And now I’m about to tell you a secret that you’ll protect with your life, Unibang,” mumbles Lance, looking side to side and behind him before getting even closer to James, who touches his bangs on reflex and is boiling with irritation. “So. I may be in need of some time alone with uhm… Captain Shirogane. To settle some matters. Personal matters, if you catch my meaning...”

James’ irritation gives way to a mocking scoff.

“Pff, that’s no secret. Anyone with two eyes knows that already,” he sneers.

“Excuse me?!” exclaims Lance, eyes wide-open.

“Not very subtle about that crush, McClain. You’re a paladin and all, but you’re still a loudmouth clown,” says James, one corner of his mouth crooking in a shit-eating grin. Lance blushes, clenching his fists in a comical pouty expression.

“Says who? Mullet-lover? Number one member of Keith’s fans club, sighing in the corners for him?” he retorts, going for his most annoying voice, the same he used multiple times with Keith himself.

“What?!” James’ smile disappears, and red tint smears his cheeks and ears again. Lance laughs.

“No use denying it! I can smell that sexual tension between you two from across the Atlas, it’s honestly distracting…”

“There’s no such thing!”

“Dude. The looks. Are you serious?” asks Lance.

“There’s no such thing,” repeats James, this time softer. He lowers his eyes. “He doesn’t look at me that way. You’re wrong.”

There’s a small pause, while a group of cadets leaves the gym waving at Lance, who waves back at them casually smiling before crossing his arms and tilting his body towards James.

“Oh my god, you’re pitiful,” he deadpans.

“Shut up!”

“No, for real dude, now I think I’m the one who’ll do you a favor,” says Lance, pity seeping into his voice, making James wince.

“I’m not helping you!” he growls.

“Helping me? Bro, you need more help than me. Listen, this is our chance to spend some time with these two oblivious numbskulls. Quality time, I mean?” mutters Lance, and James can’t help but feel his interest peaking.

“How?” he asks, resigned to prove Lance right. The twitch on the paladin’s lip shows he noticed that, but at least he has the delicacy to not tease him about it this time.

“Well, this is our first Valentine’s aboard the Atlas, and the non-humans are all crazy about it, they find it so cute.” Lance rolls his eyes, but smiles. “I guess it is. From what I heard, everyone is preparing for tomorrow but that means getting free time will be harder than usual... So people are trying to take shifts with their friends and preparing weird gifts… do you have any friends, by the way?” asks Lance, putting a condescending hand on the pilot’s shoulder.

“Of course I do, jerk,” answers James, slapping the hand away.

“Oh, too bad. Because you’ll have to ditch them,” Lance shrugs.

“And for what?” grumbles James, starting to lose his patience.

“Well. Here’s the thing. If I want to spend some time with Shiro tomorrow, I need an excuse for Keith to go somewhere else, because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know what Valentine’s is... so that means he’ll stay glued to Shiro like any ordinary day,” explains Lance.

These words seem to affect James. He makes an angry pout, crossing his arms.

“Haven’t you considered that maybe that’s what they want? Why would we get in their way?” he asks, in a tone way too resentful.

That pouty face shifts to anger when Lance snorts and then lets a sing-song laugh resound through the corridor.

“Oh, man. Ooooh man. If that’s what worries you, let me tell you: we’ll do them a favor too. When they are together they only have these long-ass conversations about life and duty that are NOT for people their age,” says Lance. Smirking, he adds: “It’s like going to prom with your sister, dude. For real, Griffin, get your head in the game... now I see why you’re doing zero progress.”

“Well, excuse me for knowing nothing about your personal affairs, paladins,” grunts James, offended. And, yeah, he won’t admit it, but clearly relieved too. Lance can't help grinning.

“I’m giving you privileged info here, you’re welcome! Anyways, that’s still a problem, because they are two crazy workaholics and you can bet your ass that Keith will go to Shiro if he gets bored with no one around. And since everyone else is busy… I need you to distract him. See where I’m going?” he asks, making finger guns at James, who looks at him unimpressed.

“In fact, no.”

“C’mon! I’m asking you to be Keith’s date tomorrow!” exclaims Lance, and James blushes again.

“What makes you think he’ll accept something like that?”

“He doesn’t have to! You can casually go meet him and distract him with, I don’t know, some work related stuff I guess. Knives and cosmic wolves are other topics he enjoys if that tickles your fancy,” says Lance, rolling his eyes. “You stay with him, I stay with Shiro, and we both win. Easy peasy.”

James opens his mouth to protest and refuse, but he discovers that, surprisingly, there’s no real reason to say no. Frowning, he sweeps his fingers through his face, thinking.

What’s the worst that could happen? If he goes to Keith and he is dismissed it’ll be alright. Of course, if he lets Keith go back to Shiro he’ll never hear the end of it from Lance, but asides from that… what’s there to lose?

This conclusion must appear on his face because Lance smirks at his expression, cunning and mischievous.

“So… I take it we have a deal?”

And James can’t even believe when he hears himself say:

“Yeah... Yeah, alright.”

*****

They are outside the first floor common lounge. People are loud all around and in the halls, some working, some enjoying the sudden Valentine’s spirit forced into the Atlas corridors, though some interpretations are kind of questionable. They see a few people wearing weird costumes and eating strange things, and Lance and James look at each other confused, but too nervous to comment on it. The paladin taps his foot insistently, while the pilot watches how people start disappearing into other rooms and floors, signaling that it’s time for them to move. Their intel told them they have two objectives to cover: The Captain’s quarters, and the Lion’s Bay.

“You ready?” asks Lance.

“... Yeah,” answers James, not ready at all.

“I need more conviction than that, please,” demands Lance, twisting his hands, tense. James eyes his motions with curiosity.

“This was your idea, why are you so nervous?” he asks.

Lance stops moving and stares at James with an abnormally soft expression.

“I have my reasons, dude. Unlike you, I think I only have a fifty percent chance to succeed, at most. That’s, like... fifty percent chance to fail and die of embarrassment too.”

For once, Lance is devoid of all his usual flair and confidence, and James feels like he is finally catching a glimpse of the real McClain under these loud, colorful layers. And, honestly? This dude is not so bad.

“Who’s pitiful now?” he asks, but it’s not ill-intended. Lance gives him a look, but then scoffs and the smirk stays on his face.

“Yeah, enjoy gloating while I try to save our Valentine’s Day. Friendly reminder that you’d be weeping in a corner forever if not for my brilliant idea, though. I’m not letting you live it down,” he says, bumping their shoulders.

“Maybe I’ll be weeping in a corner tomorrow,” mumbles James.

It’s weird how easily he is allowing himself to show his fear, wondering if he isn’t making a mistake, putting himself in such a vulnerable spot. But the hand that comes to rest over his shoulder this time is not condescending, but encouraging.

“Relax, it’ll be alright,” assures Lance, shaking James’ shoulder. “Believe it or not… I consider Keith a friend. And I know him enough to say I’m not joking about the tension between you two. Things will work out, but! You gotta be tough as nails, Mullet-man can be a handful if he wants to.”

James laughs, already feeling better.

“I’ll take your word, then. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. But please don’t piss him off, if he storms in while I’m working my magic with Shiro, I’ll die and my ghost is gonna haunt you forever,” warns him Lance, pointing a finger at him. James scrunches his nose.

“Do I want to know…?”

“Nope,” cuts Lance. But then the accusing finger becomes an extended hand and James, after doubting a second, takes it in a brotherly clasp.

“Good luck, dude. Don’t mess it up,” says Lance.

“You too. Go for the good fifty percent,” answers James, making the other smile cheekily.

“Hah. You bet!”

After that, they let go and walk in opposite directions, both shivering slightly, scared and excited in equal parts. And also, even though they don’t know it, both making a mental note to let the other know at breakfast how everything goes. Maybe to cry in each other’s shoulder, should it all go really, really, really bad.

If it even goes, to begin with…

So, who would you like to follow?

FOLLOW LANCE FOLLOW JAMES

(Links may not work on mobile, I’m trying to figure this out. Stupid app.)

#shance #jeith #jaith #vld fic #silv writes

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bdfanfic · 7 years ago

Text

A Day in the Life of an Argonian Writer

(just a silly thing I wrote. All images shamelessly stolen from Kazerad except one from Furnut, credited.)

7:00am - Wake up. This is not a trivial endeavor. Depending on prior evening's alcoholic consumption, this task alone may require up to an hour to complete successfully. Yet it is a necessary and vital task, so do not skimp. Continuing on to other steps without proper completion of this will result in less-than-optimal experiences. Toothpicks on the eyelids are not a substitute.

8:00am - Get up. Note that this is a separate task than that mentioned previously. More than likely you will find yourself in an embarrassing and muscle-aching position after hours of comatose inactivity. Stretch your muscles, crack any joints that need cracking and scratch your ass. Slither your way into the bathroom. Remember, your ancestors were reptilian. There is no need to feel embarrassed. Perambulation on only two limbs is overrated. You were given four and a tail by Nature. It is no disparagement to use them all in this time of crisis. Upon arrival in your bathroom, complete all natural and necessary functions. Then get yourself into a bath at the earliest possible opportunity. You stink. Also, recall that oral hygiene is of high importance. Brush your teeth. It is also suggested to brush your tongue. Given the size of that particular body part on you, it is perfectly acceptable to use a scrub brush rather than a tooth brush.

9:00am - You are now refreshed and ready to take on the day. However, keep in mind that you are also now naked. You may have been so before, but at that time modesty was of little importance. Now would be a good time to quietly peer about your bedroom to verify it is free of other occupants. Should you encounter any unexpected sentient beings in your room, wrapping a towel around yourself is suggested. If this does prove necessary, keep in mind that your tail will prevent proper and complete coverage. Keep that tail down. Then oust the offending interloper from your room in whatever way seems fit and find clothes. Do not wear the same clothes you wore the previous day. The reasons for this rule are many and need not be discussed here. Hopefully you can find an acceptably clean outfit.

9:30am - Breakfast time! Once again, verify your solitude first. Open a window and feel the fresh breezes of Anvil. The scents from the nearby ocean should remind you of just how close you are to the sea. Now close the window and regret the inhalation of the stench of rotting fish. But do NOT succumb to your instinct and seek to break your fast with more alcoholic beverages. Remember, fruit and nuts are available and cheap. You may even find some dairy and sweet bread. Pork products are the traditional meat breakfast for the Urban Argonian. Do try not to rip and shred your breakfast with your sharp pointy teeth. Try to chew it like the cud-eating flat-toothers do. When you have sufficiently frustrated yourself, go ahead and tear in.

10:00am - Clean up the mess you made. Now it is time to get to work. For one last time, double check your solitude, ready your work space, double check the lock on your door and the shutters on your window. If privacy is assured you may now dress for work properly. It is not necessary to remove ALL clothing. Remember, your goal here is to remove all possible distractions, not to awaken new ones. Make yourself comfortable. Now, review all notes and your previous day's work, if any.

11:00am - Continue staring at blank piece of paper.

12:00am - LUNCH TIME! Dress yourself properly again (do not forget this step) and head out to whatever comestibles establishment you desire. Do NOT go to the bar again. Save that for later. You'll need it. If you decide to eat at the establishment, try to conform as well as possible to the norms of human society as befits a well-traveled Argonian. Be courteous and polite. However, do not attempt to smile at other humans. The expression tends to frighten them as they know you are hungry at this time of day. Should you encounter any acquaintances, do not let them know you have seen them and try to escape. If not possible, go ahead and dine with them. They are your fellow citizens after all. Do NOT offer to pick up the tab, especially before food is ordered however. Experience shows that making such a heinous mistake inevitably leads to the ordering of multiple Filet Mignons. Decline the offers of another drink after the meal is done. You have work to do!

1:00pm - Return home. Re-lock the doors, recheck for stray Khajiits, and resume your standard working attire. By this time, the blank page may have become annoying. Failing renewed inspiration, try starting by writing this:

"It was a dark and stormy night."

Cliche, sure, but it's better than staring at a blank page. Search your imagination. Surely you can come up with SOMETHING to write about! If the clock continues to click and the last word you wrote continues to be "night", you can now consider removing the rest of your apparel. SOME distraction may, in fact, be necessary.

(IMAGE BY FURNUT: https://inkbunny.net/furnut5158 )

2:00pm - Stare in horror at the pornography you have just written. Scan the smut for anything even remotely imaginative, then destroy all evidence. If fire codes allow, ignite the paper in a fire-proof area and watch it burn. If not, ingestion is a viable alternative. Resume your working position and for god's sake put your clothes back on! Look at clock. It should now be at least 2:30pm and you have done absolutely nothing of worth. You need inspiration. Go find something to inspire you. Do not refer to the magazine you keep under your mattress. That is not the kind of inspiration you need now. If all else fails, go for a walk.

3:00pm - As you amble about the beautiful city of Anvil, take in the sights around you. Eavesdrop on some citizen's conversation, for inspiration OR for later blackmail fodder. All information is valuable. Stop wondering if small animals can breathe underwater. They cannot and societal norms will be transgressed if you endeavor to find out. Should you encounter a fellow Argonian in your rambling, be sure and switch to Jel before making snide and hurtful comments about the humans. Avoid any Khajiit's you may come across. One is quite enough.

4:00pm - Back to work again. Follow aforementioned procedures to secure your privacy and resume your place at your work space. If you are STILL lacking inspiration, write about what you saw in your walk. No need to be too creative here, just describe what you saw so that you are writing something. Describe the crumbling building you avoided, or perhaps the stinky Nord that you walked too close to. What was he wearing? What kind of weapon did he have? What were the stains in his beard from? Surely there's something you can write about. Keep in mind that ALL writing is helpful to your craft, even that thing you burnt in the sink earlier.

5:00pm - You made it! QUITTING TIME! You may now put away your writing materials. Spare a few minutes to celebrate (if you actually wrote anything of value) or to sulk (if not). Both can be accomplished by laying on your couch with a book covering your eyes. Make sure it's a worthy book though. Osmosis has not been conclusively proven to NOT happen this way. Banging on the book's cover to try and force some of it's author's brilliance into your head may be helpful. Remember that in nearly all medical research, some benefits are always attributable to the placebo effect.

6:00pm - Stop moping (or, on rare occasions, celebrating). Time to write to Casta. If you have followed these instructions properly, you will NOT be drunk and you will NOT write her a drunken emotional-wreck letter this time. Being both your mentor and your only significant other, it is important to maintain a loving relationship with her. It is fine to tell her how beautiful her eyes are. It is not appropriate to go into detail about other body parts, as you have been known to do when inebriated. If you have not followed these instructions, do not attempt to write to her. If you do write a letter in that state in spite of these well-intentioned instructions, be sure at least to post it via flame-and-smoke mail into the sink. Of course, the fact that it's the best writing you've done all day may be yet another reason for your 8:00pm visit to the tavern.

7:00pm - Read a book. It is important for all writers to read as well. If you feel inspired, write a critique of what you read. Try not to simply make a list of all grammatical and spelling errors, but also note both the good and bad aspects of the work you read. Find some. What did the author do that could be worth imitation or that you should be sure to steer clear of? If a work of fiction, pay attention to how he introduced new characters or situations. Did he come up with a name that fit? How did he deal with transitions and relationships? Be sure and keep tissues handy, even if it's not a tearjerker. When you realize how much better the writer is than you, you will need it.

8:00pm - Now it's officially booze-o-clock. Time to visit your second home. Try to strike up a conversation with others, if they don't know you already. For those who do, see if they might let you talk with them again anyway. Remember, it's always better to engage with absolutely anyone but the bartender. He knows you too well already. Also he has the power to cut you off. It's usually best to talk with non-attractive people too. They don't have anything better to do. Remember, you need to listen as well as talk. Yes, you'll have to listen to their sob story about some husband or daughter or son being mauled by a bear or something. But if you want them to listen to you go on at length about the woes of being a writer, you have to put up with some of their whining.

9:00pm - Probably time to switch to another target by now. Also, order some food. Once again, you are surrounded by herbivore flat-teeth types. Try and keep your awesomely sharp teeth from frightening them too much. It might be best to sit at the bar for your dining. Be careful not to use your Gaydar at the bar. The bartender knows that trick.

10:00pm - Verify that at least the most essential clothing is still attached. The bartender will likely be making noises about having had 'enough'. (As if he has a clue how much is 'enough' for an Argonian!) If circumstances allow, you may now begin to sing your favorite three-decades-old renditions of Black Marsh anthems. Ask others to join in for the chorus. Disregard any protests as clear evidence of the crowd's interest and heighten your volume.

11:00pm - Look up at the stars circling overhead and marvel at their beauty. Disregard the pain in your rump where the bartender kicked you. Life is a pain in the rump, so roll with it. But do not try to roll home. Experience shows that it just gets you dizzy and makes people laugh at you. Besides, it's difficult to tell what direction you are heading when rolling down the street singing Black Marsh anthems. Clockwise and Counter-Clockwise are not directions. If someone offers to help you home, be appreciative and try not to vomit on them.

12:00am - Verify surroundings are indeed, YOUR home. Also verify no new Khajiits have wandered in. If any Khajiit is found in your bedroom, do not inquire further. Leave the house and return in the morning, even if it means sleeping on the ground beside your house.

-UPDATE: Do NOT sleep underneath your bedroom window in these circumstances!

If house is Khajiit-free, slither up the stairs. Your creator gave you all those extra appendages for a reason. USE them. Use the bathroom before retiring to your bed also. It's there for a reason. You may now safely remove clothing for your bedtime. Do one final check that no one is in it first before getting in.

1:00am - If you are still awake, cry yourself to sleep and remember that you can do better tomorrow. You may take this time to compose pitiable laments to your lover. No matter how heartfelt and significant they may seem to you at this time, there is no harm in them, and no need to burn them either. Do not worry, they will be completely illegible in the morning and thus can be safely ignored. In the morning, if you are running low on toilet paper, these make an excellent substitute.

(Repeat as needed)

#quill-weave #kazerad #furnut #fanfiction #prequel_adventure #argonian #katia managan

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shannaraisles · 7 years ago

Text

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 59 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: None Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

Swellegant, Elegant Party

Rory wasn't sure quite what she had been expecting from the Winter Palace, but boredom had not been in her top ten. And she was bored. So bored.

Oh, it was beautiful, certainly. The decor, the music, the food, the pretty frocks and masks, all absolutely gorgeous. But nothing was really happening. The only really interesting thing of note to have occurred since she and Granthis had arrived was the announcement of the Inquisition, and they hadn't even been in the ballroom for that. She'd been trailing along at Granthis' elbow for the last two hours as he greeted various nobles and dignitaries, giving her own greetings when asked, and finding herself desperately hoping that something more interesting was going to happen soon. About the most interesting thing to happen so far for her was overhearing the nasty little comments the Orlesian nobles were making about her and Kaaras in the misplaced confidence that she couldn't understand them. It was depressing.

"Another Ferelden idiot who thinks she knows fashion better than us."

"Monsieur Perivale's tastes are getting uglier, I see."

"Surely that untutored beast cannot be the Herald of Andraste? Why would she choose such a dreadful creature to lead?"

"Did you see him when he entered? How the Empress can look on him without disgust is beyond me."

"She cannot really be that gorgeous commander's wife, surely? She's so plain."

Iron Bull caught her eye as Granthis began the rounds of ingratiating himself with the Council of Heralds, and Rory gratefully made her way over to the big Qunari. She didn't think she'd ever been so pleased to see anyone.

"Looking good, little red," he complimented her, finishing off a curl of ham. "Have you tried any of this? Tastes like despair."

"I don't think I need anything to taste like despair at the moment," she admitted with a rueful smile. "Am I allowed to know what's happening, or do I have to stay completely in the dark?"

Bull grinned down at her. He seemed just as relieved as she was not to be talking to Orlesians for the time being. "The boss scaled a wall and no one saw him," he shrugged, quietly impressed with this feat. "Figure he's in the ballroom making nice with the nobles again by now."

"They're quite hard to make nice with," she mused quietly, glancing about the chamber with wary eyes.

"They're talking a lot about you," Bull pointed out. "Stupid things mostly, but I heard one guy say he wants to find out what you're packing under that skirt."

Rory snorted with laughter, making no attempt to hide the ridiculous noise. "He can wish all he likes, it's not happening," she laughed, shaking her head. "To be honest, Bull, I am bored out of my tiny mind here. I thought this was supposed to be the social event of the year?"

"Only so everyone can say they were here," the Qunari pointed out with a shrug. "Look at it this way - everyone's watching you because you're spitting in their faces. Turning up looking all pretty and comfortable, not even trying to pretend to be like them ... they're jealous."

"They're idiots," she replied, earning for herself a wide grin from the Ben-Hassrath agent.

"Definitely," he agreed. "And not very subtle. Half the people here are sleeping with the other half, and everyone seems to know it."

"Well, if they're really so idle that this is a fun evening out for them, then they clearly have nothing better to do with their time," Rory muttered, rolling her eyes behind her mask.

She felt a gentle touch on her back, glancing up to find Granthis at her side.

"My apologies, little girl - all the business is done," he promised her, looking up - and further up - to offer Bull a polite nod. "Would you like to dance now? The Guild Master is in the ballroom."

"Are you going to dance with me, or are you going to ask me to dance with your Guild Master?" she asked with amused suspicion.

Granthis laid a hand over his heart in exaggerated offense. "Would I be so devious as that?"

"Yes," she told him bluntly. "Yes, you would." As his laugh sounded in hollow tones from behind his full mask, she threw Bull a sympathetic smile, letting her escort take her arm to guide her back through the state rooms toward the ballroom. "What, exactly, is your end game here, Granthis?"

The ugly man glanced at her, mismatched eyes sharp behind his mark. "To make sure the Guild does not try to have you forced out of the Inquisition in favor of one of their own," he told her quietly. "They have no influence in your organization at this moment in time, and I suspect that if tonight goes the way your people seem to be expecting it to, that will grate on their nerves somewhat. If, however, you are accepted into the Guild this evening, they won't be able to complain."

She stared at him, genuinely impressed by his devious little plan. "And what do you get out of this?" she asked with vague suspicion.

She couldn't see the grin he flashed at her, but she knew it was there. "The pleasure of knowing they owe me for introducing you to them in the first place, little girl."

Rory laughed, shaking her head as he drew her into the ballroom. Her eyes automatically scanned the upper level of the room, seeking out the familiarly awful Inquisition uniforms. Leliana, more relaxed than she'd ever seen the bard, casually enjoying conversations with just about everyone who passed her by; Josephine, keeping a close eye on her little sister while also watching Kaaras' progress around the ballroom; Kaaras himself, apparently charming the knickers off the Dowager if her obvious giggles were anything to go by. Sera watching the court watching the Inquisitor, amusing herself with what she knew about all of them; Vivienne, in her element, somehow managing to pull off that uniform without seeming out of place in it; and Cullen. Rory felt a flicker of sympathy for her husband. He was surrounded by nobles, his back ramrod straight, jaw ticking in a manner that was very familiar to her. He really didn't want to be here, and to be the recipient of all this attention just made it worse.

She couldn't rescue him, however, at least not yet. Granthis had a plan, and given the grip he had on her hand wrapped about his arm, she wasn't going to be allowed to circumvent it. The uniquely-attired apothecary advanced through the ranks of the nobles, inserting them both into a small gaggle beside one of the balconies. One of that number turned to greet them.

"Ah, Monsieur Granthis, how good of you to join us," he said, his Orlesian heavily accented with ... is that Anderfels? Piercing blue eyes surveyed Granthis and his guest from behind a plain mask. "And your companion?"

Granthis offered a florid bow. "Grand Master Ansel Tralor, I have the great honor to introduce to you Mistress Rory Rutherford, the Inquisition's senior healer," he declared, tugging Rory forward.

For what felt like the thousandth time this evening, Rory curtsied automatically, meeting the appraising gaze that fell on her. "A pleasure to meet you, Grand Master," she smiled cordially.

"Ah, yes, Mistress ... Rutherford, you say?" Ansel tilted his head to one side, considering her. "I was not aware you had married, mistress. My information stated that your name was Dupuis."

Rory had to fight not to react to that name with shock. What the hell is going on here? she demanded in the silence of her mind. First Lady Trevelyan knows my real first name, and now this stranger knows my real surname. Is there an actual Dupuis family here in Thedas now? She managed to conjure a false look of confusion, though she was certain he wasn't fooled. "Before my marriage, my name was Allen," she told the Grand Master.

Ansel Tralor considered her for a moment, a fleeting smile touching his lips as he inclined his head to her. "My apologies, Mistress Rutherford," he conceded. "Clearly my information was wrong."

"A simple mistake to make," she allowed, aware that the slightly panicked patter of her heart was not helping her composure to stay level. "There are a great many people attached to the Inquisition."

"And yet not one of your healers has affiliation with any guild," Ansel mused, looking her over thoughtfully. "Tell me, Mistress Rutherford, if I were suffering with chronic abdominal pain that could, at times, become crippling, what would you recommend?"

Oh, so this is an interview. Got it. "I'd ask you to identify a pattern in when the pain occurs, and when it is at its worst," she answered automatically. Months of living in Thedas had trained her out of immediately trying to guess without more information.

The piercing eyes narrowed a little behind the mask. "The pain fluctuates, but is at its worst shortly after eating," he told her, offering the information she had asked for. "Wine taken on an empty stomach results in pain that cripples me."

Rory considered this for a moment. "Well, without being able to examine you properly, my recommendation would be to take milk of elder with your meals, not to drink wine on an empty stomach, and to examine your diet with the view to cutting out the rich foods that have obviously given you an ulcer."

"You would not suggest seeing a mage, then?"

"Not in the initial consultation, no," she answered, shaking her head. "Perhaps in later assessments, if the patient is non-compliant, or the suggested remedy is not having the hoped-for effect, but even magical intervention would only heal what damage is there, not correct the problem that caused the ulcer in the first place."

She could feel Granthis chuckling beside her as Ansel nodded, his thin lips curving in a satisfied smile. "Well done, mistress," the Grand Master praised her. "There are few healers of my acquaintance who admit that magic is not the end of all our skill."

"Then they can't have that much faith in their own skill, Grand Master," she shrugged lightly. "Why are they practicing healers if they don't believe they can handle anything that comes to them?"

"Do you believe you can handle anything that comes to you?" he asked sharply.

"Yes," she answered - simple but true. "Handle, not heal. Some things are beyond our current knowledge to cure, but there are ways to suppress pain, to make movement easier, to give a person some dignity despite their ailment. To end it, if there is no way to give them a life with any quality to it, with their consent. Healing is about making things better, and sometimes an end is the only improvement we can offer."

"If a patient of yours was seriously injured, yet not so badly that he would not recover, but demanded an end, would you give it to him?" Ansel asked her, his expression behind the mask searching.

"No." That was a ridiculous question in itself, and she hoped he knew it. "I don't kill for the hell of it, or on command. And I'll take whatever abuse he throws at me. He'll thank me eventually, when the pain passes."

Ansel snorted with laughter. "Spoken as one who has already experienced such a thing," he commented, glancing to his fellows. They nodded, whether in agreement or consideration, Rory couldn't tell. But she didn't need to tell. Ansel was already speaking again. "Then, Mistress Rutherford, it is the wish of this Guild to invite you to become a member. A simple visit to our guildhall in Val Royeaux is all it will take; you have the knowledge necessary, the standing, and the sponsorship of a respected Master of the Guild."

Rory eyed him thoughtfully. "And what do I owe you in exchange for this guild membership?" she asked warily.

"Reports on your activities, the sharing of experimental concoctions or treatments with a high success rate, the acknowledgement of your Guild membership in the wearing of our sigil," Ansel informed her, his voice just a little cool. Apparently she was supposed to just accept without asking questions.

"I'll consider it, Grand Master," Rory answered, offering him a friendly smile. "Thank you. Granthis, you said something about dancing?"

"Oh, of course. Do excuse us." With her arm wrapped through his, Granthis drew her away from the gaggle of guild leaders, cackling behind his mask. "You're a joy, little girl. They'll be itching to get you in now you've suggested you might not!"

"I did learn from the best," she murmured, flashing him a grin of her own as he drew her down to the dance floor. "And I swear, if you let me fall over, I will castrate you with the spoon from the punch bowl."

"Understood, little girl." Granthis chuckled as they took their positions, as the music announced the beginning of a new dance. "I knew you were going to be more entertaining tonight than those fussy nobs."

"Well, I will say that it's suddenly a lot more entertaining than it was," she conceded, spinning under his arm to join the promenade of couples. "But given that it was boring enough to threaten death by nonentity just a little while ago, I'm still waiting for the entertainment to begin."

"Take a look up at that railing, and you might be better entertained," her ugly friend told her.

Her head tilted upward, following the line of his nod, only to find Cullen leaning against the stone balustrade, his eyes fixed on her. She couldn't quite read his expression from here, but judging by the slightly dejected postures of the nobles gathered around him, she had a feeling it was a familiar look. One that signaled their total defeat in trying to get his attention, especially now his wife was easily visible. Whether he was using her as an excuse to make them back off or not, she couldn't resist the urge to blow him a kiss as Granthis whirled her past, laughing quietly at the romantic sighs that rose from the nobles paying attention.

All right, maybe the ball wasn't quite so boring anymore. And no one had even died yet.

#set in darkness #multi-chapter fic #MGiT #modern girl in thedas #cullen rutherford/original female character #cullen rutherford/rory allen #rory allen #granthis perivale #iron bull #ansel tralor #cullen rutherford #halamshiral #the winter palace #the whole thing must be so boring for anyone not actively seeking an assassin

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the-real-tc · 7 years ago

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Fic Update! Wide River to Cross: Chapter 18

Author's Note: Yes, I'm back! It's a return to Jack's POV. He's feeling at loose ends, because you know Jack prefers to be home than anywhere else, and Phoenix isn't home. Maybe he needs a kick in the pants from someone, but is there anyone alive or dead who's able to convince him his stubbornness has to stop and that he needs to reconcile with Lisa?

Chapter 18: Always Something There to Remind Me

Two weeks. Jack hated this feeling: knowing he wasn’t expected back in Hudson for a fortnight, but having absolutely no idea how to fill his remaining time in Phoenix. He’d already tried and failed at camping and fishing. The week-long trek on horseback had been well and good, but now he was back in a dreary motel, bored out of his skull.

If Lisa was here with me…

As a couple, no doubt they would have planned outings and things to do together. It was something Lisa was particularly good at, Jack had to grudgingly acknowledge, even if he wasn’t always keen on overly touristy activities, as had happened in France. The Eiffel Tower was simply an ugly conglomeration of iron girders in Jack’s estimation, but Lisa had insisted on getting a portrait of them in front of the famous landmark. She’d also dragged him to Moulin Rouge, where she’d booked VIP seating for the Féerie show and dinner. It was a grand spectacle comprised of a multitude of dancers in gaudy costumes; loud music and flashing lights; one endless dance number after the other.

“How long is this thing?” he’d wanted to ask at one point, when another troupe pranced on the stage for yet another performance, this one full of flamboyant acrobats. But Jack had held his tongue, for when he looked at Lisa, she was absorbed in the act, clearly enthralled. If she was having a good time, it was no use dumping his misery into her lap, especially when she had paid for the “fun” experience.

Jack very much doubted he’d find a French cabaret in Phoenix, and he was quite all right with that.

Still, even funny French cuisine and Cancan dancers were better than this: an empty room and an empty heart. Empty stomach, too, Jack realised, when he heard the tell-tale rumble from his gut, reminding him he’d skipped breakfast that morning.

Maybe I’ll head out to find someplace that cooks up a nice brunch, Jack decided. Back home, he imagined Lou might have made pancakes and bacon for the family that day. He reflected that since coming back home from New York, his eldest granddaughter’s skills in the kitchen had improved by great strides over the years. Thinking about Lou now, Jack was troubled for the hundredth time that something could be amiss at Heartland. Not that Lou had said anything of the sort, but the impression still remained she was hiding something from him every time they’d spoken on the phone. Jack shrugged as he turned the knob on his motel room door, mentally pushing aside his concerns. After leaving the parking lot, he cruised around Phoenix, not really knowing what he was looking for or what he would find appealing. Along the way, a billboard promoting a 24-hour, all-you-can-eat restaurant caught his attention. Though he wasn’t a glutton, the advertised price for the meal seemed reasonable, so he steered the vehicle to the next exit in the direction of the location.

All kinds of tempting aromas greeted Jack when he entered the buffet-style restaurant. Noisy chatter from the customers competed with mellow soft jazz being played over the speaker system. Though the floor area was crowded with patrons, the staff quickly and easily accommodated single diner Jack in a corner table usually designated for two. Five minutes later, he returned from the buffet with a plate stacked with waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon, and potato wedges.

“Well, howdy, ‘neighbour’! It’s ‘Jack’, isn’t it?”

Jack looked up with a start from sipping his newly poured cup of coffee.

A voice from very close by seemed to be addressing him. Sure enough, when Jack turned to look, the couple to his oblique left was smiling at him expectantly. For a moment, he couldn’t place them, but then it dawned on him: they were the snowbirds who’d sat next to him on the flight down from Calgary.

What were their names, again? Jack tried to recall. Henry and Annette something-or-other…

“Well, I’ll be,” Jack said jovially, putting down his coffee cup. “Henry and Annette… from the plane, right?”

“That’s right,” replied Henry with a happy nod and a grin. “Enjoying your time in Phoenix?”

“Ehhh, not bad,” said Jack, giving a mild shrug. “Just spent the past week riding around parts of Utah and the Grand Canyon.”

“Oh, on horseback?” Annette inquired, peering at Jack, taking in his usual ‘Western’ attire.

“Yep. With an outfit called Saddleback Tours.”

“The Grand Canyon is pretty spectacular,” Henry stated. “We made sure it was one of the first things we saw our first time down here.”

“I take it this is your first time down to Arizona, Jack?” asked Annette.

Jack nodded. Realising this was now going to be a full-blown conversation, he tried to strategically chew and swallow his food while Henry and Annette talked before he was expected to reply.

“Nice to get away from those Alberta winters,” Henry continued. “You from Calgary, too?”

This time, Jack shook his head in the negative. He took a quick sip of coffee. “Hudson,” he grunted.

“Hudson, eh? I think I’ve been out there once or twice,” Henry said. “Lotsa rich horse people from the looks of some of those ranches.” He stuck his thumb under his nose and pretended to lift it up in a snooty manner.

“I can guarantee you that I’m definitely not one of ‘em,” Jack rejoined with a dry laugh. But Lisa would certainly be one of those “rich horse people” Henry’s talking about; just not stuck-up. Good thing she isn’t here to hear this right now...

“Hudson…” Annette was now saying with a thoughtful expression on her face. “What did you say your last name was, Jack? I know you told us on the plane… It’s ‘Bartlett’, isn’t it? Any relation to Lyndy Bartlett, the Country singer? I think she’s from Hudson, too.”

It had been so long since a stranger had brought up Lyndy and her singing career that Jack was momentarily caught off-guard, not at all sure how to respond.

“Lyndy was my late wife,” he finally said without a trace of emotion, hoping to avoid the inevitable platitudes of condolence.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Annette nevertheless uttered, clearly shocked. “I had no idea. When did she pass?”

“Several years now,” Jack answered evasively.

Annette made a ‘tut’ sound and looked at her husband, shaking her head in pity. “I was such a fan of her music. Never could understand how she never took the world by storm with that voice and those looks. And I always wondered why she never came out with anything new; I suppose I know why now.”

Not knowing how to respond, Jack merely shrugged. “Changing music tastes,” he posited as he took another sip of coffee. “Rap music and all that stuff the kids listen to these days. Country just wasn’t going to be ‘mainstream’ anymore.”

“You’re probably right… So, I suppose all those love songs she sang were about you, eh, Jack?” Annette asked in a teasing manner.

Jack nearly choked on his drink. “Me?” he sputtered.

“Yes, you!” she laughed. “You were her husband, weren’t ya? Don’t tell me she was singing about some other fella.”

Love songs were always so subjective, Jack thought. It wasn’t that he’d never thought Lyndy’s love songs could be about him; but the songs were ultimately for other people to enjoy; to form their own special connection to the lyrics with their own lives—not relate to his and Lyndy’s private relationship.

“There was that one about the ‘night time’ and the ‘light time’…” Annette rushed on, heedless of Jack’s lack of enthusiasm about the topic. She started humming a little of the melody: “Hmm-hmm-hmmm… ‘I’m only dreaming… of precious you’… Such a sweet song. I loved it.”

I loved it, too, Jack thought, swept up in a reminiscence of that time from so many years ago, when Lyndy was composing the song. She always sought his opinion when writing new material. He recollected his reactions were inevitably positive; she inevitably took his words with a grain of salt. So many evenings, Lyndy would sit in the living room, strumming her guitar, scribbling down lyrics as they came to her. Jack remembered how he used to come in from a long day of herding the cattle to hear Lyndy’s voice echoing through the house.

“That was one of her more popular ones,” Jack said. “She did think it was a little corny, but she believed people liked ‘corny’, anyway.” He cut into a waffle and stuffed a chunk into his mouth in the hopes that would be the end of more discussion about Lyndy and her music.

Henry chimed in at that point by asking where Jack was staying.

Grateful for the change in topic, Jack quickly gulped his food to reply. “At a motel, not far from the airport.”

“A motel?” a nonplussed Henry repeated. “You mean you don’t have a place down here yet?”

“Nope. I was looking into a place out in Flagstaff, but it sold a few months ago.”

“Flagstaff, eh? That’s nice,” Henry commented. “You should come out and see our place sometime. It’s right here in Phoenix.”

“Yes, Jack,” Annette said, nodding in agreement. “We snowbirds ought to stick together, don’t you think?”

Jack was about to say he wasn’t exactly a ‘snowbird’; that his jaunt into Arizona was due more to reasons of health than of wanting to escape winter. Instead, he found himself neither committing to, nor rejecting the offer. “That’s mighty kind of you,” he said politely. “If I get the chance, I’ll certainly try to drop by.”

“Great! Here’s the address and phone number so you can call,” said Henry with a broad smile, jotting it down on a napkin.

“Thanks,” Jack said, taking it from Henry’s outstretched hand.

“Well, I’m about ready to hit the dessert buffet,” Henry stated.

“I’ll come with you,” said Annette. “Excuse us, Jack.”

“Of course,” he said obligingly. As the couple vacated their table, Jack wondered if he could manage to wolf down the rest of his meal before they returned. It wasn’t that they weren’t nice enough people; he simply couldn’t tolerate any more talk about Lyndy, his life, and his plans—something he sensed was bound to happen—if he stuck around.

Don’t be rude, his inner voice warned. You’ve met nothing but nice people the entire time you’ve been down here. From Kristin and her fiancé to those folks in Flagstaff; now Henry and Annette. It wouldn’t kill you to try to stick around, would it? Finish your meal and have some conversation with them.

So, stick around he did, putting as much effort as he could muster into talking with Annette and Henry when they returned from picking out their desserts. As they talked, Jack learned Annette and Henry had both worked for the same oil company before taking severance packages during an economic downturn.

“It was a good decision. More time to volunteer and be with the grandkids,” Annette said.

“We have seven,” Henry added proudly. “How ‘bout you, Jack?”

“Two granddaughters and one great-granddaughter,” he answered easily, as he jabbed his fork into the last potato wedge.

“That’s nice,” Annette said with a nod.

There was a minor pause in the conversation as everyone was either chewing or swallowing. For a moment, Jack thought Annette was on the verge of asking something, but she averted her gaze and seemed to reconsider. It was the opportunity Jack was looking for. He closed his knife and fork over his plate, wanting to make a hasty retreat in case the couple decided to whip out pictures of their grandchildren right then to show him.

“Well, it’s been real nice chattin’ with you folks,” he said, standing up to leave. “You enjoy the rest of the afternoon.”

“Hey, you too, Jack,” Henry said between a mouthful of double-chocolate cheesecake.

“’Bye, Jack,” Annette said. “It was real nice running into you again.”

Jack tipped his hat and pushed in his chair, now more anxious than ever to make his escape.

“Say something to him,” Annette said under her breath to Henry, though it was still loud enough for Jack to hear as he hustled away.

“What do you expect me to say?” Henry asked helplessly, matching his wife’s volume.

If Jack had still been in earshot, he would have heard Annette’s sighed reply: “I don’t know. That poor man… He just seems so terribly lonely…”

“Grandpa, hi!” Lou said over the long-distance connection.

“How’s it going, Lou?” Jack asked, as he sat on the edge of his motel room bed. He’d just returned from brunch, and not having thought of anything else to do, felt compelled to touch base with the family.

“Oh, fine, fine!” Lou replied cheerily. But to Jack’s ears, it was an exaggerated cheeriness.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure; nothing to worry about. We’re all good. Everything is good. How are you?”

Jack scowled. Lou had delivered that last line hurriedly with the same forced happiness in her tone as he’d heard on previous calls.

You’re a terrible liar, Lou, Jack thought, but didn’t know how else to draw out from her a different answer; one that was more truthful.

“Oh, I’m doing just fine here, too,” Jack stated. “Saw the Grand Canyon on that horseback riding trip I took… met some interesting people…”

“That’s great, Grandpa!” Lou said.

“In fact, a couple of those people I met might be getting in touch with you soon,” Jack added.

“Really? Why?” she inquired.

“I told them about the Dude Ranch,” he explained. “They think it would be a great place for their wedding and honeymoon, so I said they could look it up on the Internet. Nice couple; you’d like ‘em.”

“Sounds good. Bet you didn’t expect to drum up business for me down there, did you?”

“It was the last thing on my mind,” Jack admitted with a small chuckle. For a moment, he thought of asking if Lou had heard from Lisa. They were, after all, business partners where the Dude Ranch was concerned. The question died on his tongue when Lou broke in to say she was sorry she had to go, as Katie was whining for attention.

“Love you, Grandpa,” Lou uttered. “’Bye!”

“’Bye,” Jack echoed, and heard the click in his ear. He replaced the phone on the cradle with a despondent sigh. A glance over at the clock showed it was nearly three p.m. in the afternoon. The meal he’d eaten was filling, and now he was starting to experience an attack of drowsiness.

I think I’ll lie down for a quick nap, Jack decided. After removing his boots and hat, he lay down on the bed, closed his eyes, and was soon asleep.

The next time Jack opened his eyes, he found himself overlooking the Grand Canyon. He struggled to comprehend why he was there again since his trip with Saddleback Tours was finished. A sudden, irrational fear gripped him that he was going to go tumbling over the edge of the precipice. The Colorado River snaked its way through the deep gorges far, far below, and he took a giant step backwards, away from the cliff edge, sighing in relief as he did so.

“What is it you’re afraid of, Jackson?”

A familiar, feminine voice from behind caused him to spin around. A slim, brunette woman stood nearby, an enigmatic smile gracing her face.

“Lyndy,” he said softly. “I-I’m not afraid...”

“Yeah, you are,” Lyndy countered with smirk and a shake of her head. “You’ve never been good at talking about what you’re feeling or what you need.”

Even though it was true, it wasn’t a trait Jack liked being reminded of.

“Come on, Jack. What is it you’re so afraid of?” she asked again when he didn’t answer. There was a note of challenge in her question.

Feeling pressured, Jack wanted to dodge the question entirely, but Lyndy held his gaze, not letting him off the hook.

“Fine,” he heatedly spat. “You want to know what I’m afraid of? I’m afraid of being a burden on others. I don’t want to be weak and helpless. No one deserves to have that dumped on them. No one. There, I said it.” He hoped that would be the end of the discussion, but Lyndy wasn’t through.

“In the end, was I a burden on you?” she asked, looking at him now with sad, wide eyes, voice almost breaking.

“What?! Of course you weren’t, Lyndy. Never,” Jack answered in anguish, wanting to rush to reassure her of his words.

“And why not?” she pointedly asked.

“Because… you were ill and you needed me. Because I loved you… so much…”

“Then why are you denying yourself the possibility of that same kind of love now? Why are you afraid of letting someone love you? Think about it, Jackson. You know what I’m talking about…”

Jack awoke with a start, eyes snapping open; momentarily disoriented. He turned to look at the bedside clock. It was several minutes past 10:00 p.m. The “afternoon nap” had turned into an unexpectedly deep slumber. He sucked in a ragged breath while passing a calloused hand over his face, rubbing vigorously as if to wipe away the memory of the vivid dream of his deceased wife.

Without even thinking about it, Jack reached for the TV remote. Maybe I’ll watch some news or something. Help clear my mind. I could use the distraction. He lazily switched on the television, finding it was already set to some classic movie channel. Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly instantly appeared on the screen in a broadcast of Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window.

Grace Kelly sure was pretty, Jack thought admiringly, recognizing the blonde American actress from one of his personal favourite Westerns: High Noon. He couldn’t recall ever seeing this Hitchcock thriller, so he tried his best to pay attention since he’d already missed the beginning. To help matters, he searched for the “subtitles” button on the remote to activate the feature, glad he knew such a feature existed.

Kelly’s character was reclining in the Stewart character’s apartment. The pair seemed to be having an intense discussion about something. Jack got that Stewart was playing a man named “Jeff”, who was seated in a wheelchair, nursing a broken leg. Jack was then struck by the coincidence that Kelly’s character was named “Lisa”.

“There can’t be that much difference between people and the way they live! We all eat, talk, drink, laugh, sleep, wear clothes—” Lisa was saying to Jeff in a frustrated manner.

“Well now, look–” Jeff started to interrupt.

LISA: “If you’re saying all this just because you don’t want to tell me the truth, because you’re hiding something from me, then maybe I can understand—”

JEFF: “There’s nothing I’m hiding. It’s just that—”

LISA: “It doesn’t make sense to me. What’s so different about it here from over there, or any place you go, that one person couldn’t live in both places just as easily?”

JEFF: “Some people can. Now if you’ll let me explain—”

Jack bit back a groan. How was it he could manage to stumble upon a movie with two characters fighting about the same things he and Lisa Stillman had fought about? He knew he’d messed things up when he decided to bury his true feelings about France, but seeing this fictional scenario was almost like having it rubbed in his face again.

LISA: “You can’t fit in here; I can’t fit in there. According to you, people should be born, live and die on the same—”

JEFF: “Shut up!”

In disgust, Jack jabbed his thumb into the power button on the remote to shut off the TV. It was truly starting to feel like everything in the world was conspiring against him to remind him of his broken relationship with Lisa.

He pulled on his boots and shoved his cowboy hat onto his head, intent on going for a drive to calm his nerves. His head began to swim as soon as he stood, and he had to sit down again in a hurry before he lost his balance. It dawned on him he hadn’t eaten anything since brunch. Probably low blood-sugar, Jack mused; eyes squeezed shut. He willed the dizzy feeling to subside, and it passed after a few uncomfortable seconds. It was then he remembered there was a truck stop/diner not far from the motel which he’d driven by on several occasions. It didn’t look like high-class dining by anyone’s stretch of the imagination, but to Jack, it offered a place for something to eat at this hour. As a bonus, it was also a place he was unlikely to run into anyone or anything that would remind him of the things he was so determined to forget.

Chapter 19: Opposites Attract

#Heartland #heartland fanfiction #Jack Bartlett #Lisa Stillman #Wide River to Cross #Chapter 18 #Always Something There to Remind Me #my fics #JISA #jisa fanfiction

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