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wardenparker · 3 years ago

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Broken Road - part 4

Javier Peña x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Javier’s high school sweetheart turns up at the Embassy, it shakes him right to his foundation. How will he cope when he learns that everything he thought he knew about his first heartbreak was a lie?

Rating: Explicit. 18+ my lovelies! Word Count: 14.7k Warnings: Javi with feelings deserves his own warning. Cursing, tiny Javi getting embarrassed, cooking/food, guilt, arguments/fighting, domestic turmoil, Lorraine just generally being terrible, pregnancy/family planning talk. Oral sex (m receiving), road head, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, technically outdoor sex. Summary: Javi deals with the fallout from his involvement with Los Pepes, and the two of you decide it’s time to head back to Laredo. But there is a very twisty rollercoaster that lies beyond that decision. Notes: So much drama for these babies! Thank you to everyone following along on this journey. There’s a lot going on here, but it will flow nicely into next week’s conclusion. Just one more part 💖

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5

February 2, 1974:

Saturday mornings have been the same for months now, and propping your bicycle up against the big tree in front of the Peña’s house is sort of like having your own designated parking space waiting for you. Mr. Peña’s truck is conspicuously absent this morning, but that doesn’t stop you from knocking loudly on the screen door and grinning at the way it rattles under your eager fist. You can hear the radio in the kitchen, always tuned to the local soul and funk station and just a touch staticky because of it, but Javier’s mother sings lightly along with every song anyway. “He said he’s going back to find…what’s left of his world…The world he left behind not so long ago…” She croons along with Gladys Knight, and you crack open the door rather than interrupt her favourite song. “He’s leaving…on that midnight train to Georgia…” You can’t help smiling, leaning just inside the doorway of the house that pours directly into the kitchen if you so much as turn to your right. She’s dancing and singing along, and there’s even a big pot in the stove already. Ingredients cover every surface - very different than your chain-smoking mother sitting at the kitchen table trying not to drop ashes on Vanessa’s new jeans while she hems them and watches the morning news.

“Buenos dias, mija.” Even as she is stirring, Javi’s mother turns to the door and gives you the widest smile. She’s liked you from the first and that has just turned into absolute adoration the more she has gotten to know you. “Javi is already gone with his papa to town.”

“Morning, Mrs. Peña.” You shuffle your feet slightly in the doorway and drop your book bag in the corner under the coat rack. “I-is It okay if I stay?” Bring here is always infinitely more comfortable than being at your own house, but you’ve never been alone with just his mother for longer than a few minutes before.

“Of course you can.” She turns back to the pot. “Do you want to help?” She asks you. “I’m making one of Javier’s favorite ‘garbage’ dinners he loves so much.” She rolls her eyes but there is a smile on her face when she thinks about how her son had begged her to make the unhealthy food.

“Frito Pie?” One of your eyebrows immediately raises curiously at the bag of corn chips on the counter. Just because you and Javier have only been going steady for a few months doesn’t mean you haven’t picked up on things. Plus, you had never heard of the concoction before meeting him anyway. “I don’t know much about cooking, but I can follow instructions.”

She chuckles and moves to make room for you at the stove. “Cooking isn’t done with recipes.” She tells you. “Most of the time I follow a recipe one time and then change it to fit Chucho or Javi’s taste.”

“So…more chilis.” It had been a serious wake up call, coming from the bland, generically creamy foods that your mom and all the church ladies in your town in Colorado had cooked. In Texas the two most important ingredients are meat and spice. You move up to the counter beside the stove and peer in, laughing at the facial you get from the big pot of sautéed onions and things you can’t quite identify by smell alone. It makes you grin and sigh happily. “I wish my mother could cook like you.”

“I will teach you and then you will teach her.” She tries so very hard to keep her opinion of your parents to herself, although she has mentioned to Chucho more than once that she doesn’t understand how a girl as sweet as you are can come from such a strict and domineering household. “And if you help, you get to eat some of your hard work, too.” She tells you with a wink.

“Now that is a motivator.” It’s useless and would simply be rude to tell her that your family couldn’t survive her cooking for the most part - god forbid they eat something with flavor. But you hang your - Javi’s - letterman sweater on the back of a chair and stick your hands under the sink to wash up. “What can I help with?”

“If you want to make the pico.” She nods towards a cutting board. “Chop the tomatoes and onion finely.” She firmly believed that while the Frito pie was a bastardized version of unholy hell, Javier loved it and the only way it was palette able was with fresh crema and pico de gallo. She would not budge on that point.

It doesn’t take long to get a cutting board and knife in front of you, though your skills with a knife are definitely limited. You’ve been hunting with your father since you were eleven, but cutting vegetables requires a slightly lighter hand. The radio hums pleasantly in the background, playing the newest song from Stevie Wonder, and Javier’s mother knows every word. She dances at the stove, stirring and moving her feet, and for about the hundredth time you find yourself admiring the way she always seems to have a spring in her step. That’s the kind of sway and smile you want to have when you’re her age, too.

******

September 10, 1993:

If the kitchen of your apartment smelled any better, you would swear it was Mama Peña smiling down on all those cooking lessons finally paying off. The music on the radio is salsa, but you know most of the words and can fake a few steps as you dance with your wooden spoon in between stirring the pot of chili on the stove. Javi’s been having a tough time lately and you decided this morning that the best thing to cheer him up is a stomach full of nostalgia. Frito Pie with his ma’s pico de gallo chilling in the fridge and a pitcher of sweet tea beside it. You even managed to find real Fritos at the bodega on your lunch break earlier. If this doesn’t cheer him up, then the lack of lingerie under your clothes definitely will…

There’s a moment where he doesn’t want to put the key in the door. Shame and anger weigh heavily on him and he knows you will spot it the second you see him. You’ve always read him like a book. How is he supposed to tell you that he’s being sent home in disgrace? That he’s being punished for trying to catch Escobar, albeit the wrong way? After Carrillo was killed, he just wanted to take the fucker down, and working with Los Pepes seemed reasonable. Now, because of it, he was off the case, maybe out of the DEA. He sighs as he slides the key into the lock, hearing the rasp of the tumblers as he twists it, and the door opens to the apartment he shares with you.

“Hey, babe!” You can hear the door creak open from the kitchen and reach to turn down the radio while you call out to him. “Whiskey or beer? Dinner’s almost ready!”

“Hey.” You sound so damn happy. He drags his jacket off and sighs. “Whiskey. Set the bottle out.” He calls back and takes off his boots. You insist that he doesn’t need to be fully dressed in the apartment all the time unless he was working and his boots coming off at the door had been the first concession towards that.

“Bad day?” It’s in his voice before he even rounds the corner, and you quickly pour a few fingers into a glass for him. On the rare occasion that he’s home first, he’ll do the same with your glass of rum. It’s the little things, you’ve found, as you settled into married life together. The moment you see his face, though, your heart drops into your toes. “What happened? Are you okay? Is Steve okay?”

“Steve’s fine.” He assures you, knowing you will worry about it until he tells you. You and Connie becoming thicker than thieves and he’s ruined that for you. “I—” He shakes his head. “I fucked up, Gacelita.”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.” His glass is pressed into his hand at the same time you press a reassuring kiss to his lips. If he’s straight-out telling you it’s a fuck up, though? That’s pretty bad. Normally Javi goes straight to making a plan to fix whatever is broken. “Do you…want to talk about it? Or do you want to drink about it?” You know he’ll talk to you eventually, but sometimes he needs to brood first.

He shakes his head, knowing that you deserve to know. This affects you too. “I—I’m being sent back to the States. Immediately.”

“…Fuck.” The way your eyes blow wide is definitely not the supportive, optimistic tone you were hoping would come out of your mouth, but it is what it is. “What happened?”

Javi sighs and drops down into a chair, his hand curling around the drink you poured for him. “I—I fed information to Don Berna and Los Pepes when my hands were tied.” Guilt eats away at him, and he can’t meet your eyes. “Judy Moncado talked.”

“Javi…” Honestly your gut instinct is to be pissed. To ask him what the fuck he was thinking. But you know what he was thinking. He was trying to end this godforsaken, bullshit drug war that only ever seems to get worse. By whatever means necessary. You drop down at the table beside him, slipping your hand into one of his and squeezing. He doesn’t need his wife to give him a lecture - he looks like he’s been given one by anyone who knows and himself all before getting home. You’re supposed to be his partner. His support. “Are you being sent home, or are you being discharged?” You ask softly, hating the way he winces slightly at your touch, like he doesn’t deserve it. After all the work he’s done - every ounce of literal blood, sweat, and tears - for the DEA to just fire him would be unimaginably cruel. But organizations like that can’t afford to have a heart.

“I—I don’t know.” He admits quietly. “They are going to call me to Washington after Escobar is caught. They— they want to see if my actions impeded the case.”

“Okay.” After everything he’s put into this… You swallow a heavy sigh and widen your fingers a little, lacing them through his to hold his hand tight. “So, we don’t have to go to Washington yet.” But you will eventually - and fuck that’s going to be hell on him. “Honey, I’m…shit. I’m so sorry. You’ve been working harder on this than even I knew.”

“I—” He takes a deep breath. “Crosby— uh, he said you can stay.” He breathes out, his heart clenching in his chest at the idea. However, you loved your work and you shouldn’t suffer because he fucked up. “I understand if you want to.”

“Fuck no.” Your brow furrows, looking at him like he’s grown three extra heads in half a second’s time. “Not a chance in hell, baby. Crosby can find a new secretary. We’re going home together.” The idea is completely ludicrous. There’s no reason for you to be anywhere that he isn’t, especially if it’s a completely different country. “They keep both Peñas or they get none at all.”

His shoulders relax slightly. The worry that you will want to stay fading. “I’m sorry, Gacelita.” He murmurs. “I was— I fucked up. It, I got in over my head after Horacio died.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me.” Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around him and kiss his temple before pressing your forehead to the very same spot. “You did what you thought would help, come hell or high water.” You aren’t the one he’s wronged here - not really. You always knew you would give up your post at the embassy eventually in good order, happily turning in high heels for cowboy boots. The person he’s hurt most here is himself, and he doesn’t need you to tell him that. “I’m not mad, and I don’t love you any less, so please get that guilty bullshit out of your head.”

“I’m pissed.” Javi admits, his arms coming around you. “I’ve worked this fucking thing for nearly ten year and now— right when we are so close, they are sending me home. I’ve fucking done so many horrible things, all to catch this bastard.”

“Oh, I’m pissed at them for sending you home,” you clarify, realizing the distinction is important here. “I’m not mad at you for doing what you felt was necessary.”

He clings to you for a moment, basking in your scent, the safety of your arms and the love that you so generously heap upon him. “We are leaving in two days.” He sighs. “They won’t give me anymore time. They want me out of the country.”

“I’ll hand in my resignation and clear out our desks tomorrow, then.” Practically crushing him to your chest doesn’t really fix anything, but it does make you feel a little better to have him solidly in your arms. Whenever things go wrong, you both always seem to hold each other a little tighter for a few days. “We should call Pops.” You murmur into his hair. “Assuming you’re still on board with going back to Texas?”

“Where the fuck else am I going to go?” The words come out more bitter than he intended them. But it’s the feeling of being sent to the corner for time out like a bad boy that has him bristling.

“Wherever we chose, Javier.” It’s not you that he’s angry with, you remind yourself when his tone makes you jump a little. “There’s two of us, and we’ve talked about settling down other places besides Laredo, so I’m making sure we’re on the same page. That’s all.” Discussions about California had dusted the debate of where to settle down after you’d convinced Javi that he would hate New York. You had even briefly considered New Mexico or Florida. But you always came back to Texas in the end.

“I’m sorry.” His tone mellows, his hands rub over your back. “I’m just feeling like a fucking failure.” He admits softly. “I don’t mean to take my shit out on you.”

“Let me take dinner off the stove.” Arms squeezing him tight once more before you step across the kitchen, your turn the knob on the radio until clicks off and set the large pot of chili aside. There’s no telling if he’s too upset to eat, or if this is a rare occasion when he wants to eat his feelings. “Baby…if this goes south…are we looking at jail time?” There are a lot of men deported from Colombia in the American federal prison system because of him, and you dread the thought of what could happen to him inside.

He shakes his head. “No.” He knows that wouldn’t happen. It was more the ass chewing he got from Crosby that confirmed that than anything else. “Nothing like that.”

“Thank god for small favors.” Pacing back over to him, both of your hands smooth over his tense shoulders and you sigh. “Then fuck it. Let’s go home. No more people shooting at you and no more unwinnable war.” It’s not as simple as that, either emotionally or mentally, but you know that for his sake you can’t dwell on it. Better to take the thing that is being forced on him and try to put a positive spin on it if you can.

His small bark of laughter is rough. But his hands tug you down into his lap. The need to hold you and use you to anchor him is too great to ignore. “You made Frito pie.” He mumbles against your shirt.

“You’ve been stressed lately.” Now, of course, you understand why and you shrug lamely. “I thought it might cheer you up a little.”

“You cheer me up.” He promises, head still buried between your breasts, and he sighs. “But half that pie is mine. As long as there’s pico.”

“As long as there’s pico.” You huff, mimicking him in a high voice. “That’s the first thing your mother ever taught me to make, do you think I would forget it?”

“No.” He actually pulls his lips up in a smile. “Because you are a good wife.” He teases.

“I do my best.” Your hands frame his cheeks, bringing his eyes up to yours. “You stood next to me proudly when I started over, now it’s my turn to do that for you. Whatever you need, all you have to do is ask, okay?”

“I just need you.” He promises softly. “I’m upset, but I’m okay as long as I have you.”

“I’m right here with you.” Dropping a kiss on the tip of his nose, you grin when he wrinkles his face at you reflexively. “We can make the best of this, baby. I promise.”

“I hope you aren’t too upset at me.” He murmurs softly.

“I’m upset that they took you off the case.” You try always to be completely honest with him, so claiming you’re not upset at all isn’t going to fly. But at least you can be specific about what’s doing it. “But I’m not upset that we get to start the next part of our lives together. Even if it’s a little sooner than we expected.”

He pulls away from you with a sigh. “Let’s eat, baby. I remember you don’t like Frito pie cold.”

“Cold chili is for maniacs and supervillains.” You tell him, moving across the kitchen again to get the pico and sweet tea out of the fridge.

“So which category do you place me in?” He asks with a small chuckle. He groans at the sight of the pitcher of tea. “I swear I’m getting a gut because of you.” He complains, rubbing his hand over his belly.

“You could always start getting up with me in the morning to work out a little.” You can barely get the sentence out with a straight face, giggling at the very idea of Javier doing sunrise runs with you. “Or I guess I can just stop cooking all your favourite foods.”

“Do I fucking look like I like running anymore?” He huffs playfully at you. “You get me up to run and there won’t be any fucking at all.”

“I can think of another form of exercise.” You mumble into the glass of tea you’ve just poured for yourself. It’s not that you want to push him, but your heart definitely leapt up into your throat when you realized what else going back to the States could mean.

He grins, hearing you. His eyes might be shit according to Steve but his ears were still sharp. “You wanna roll around in the hay loft like we’re sixteen again? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Think you can manage it without throwing your back out, old man?” Javi’s constant bitching about how everything hurts after 30 - as if you don’t already know - definitely leaves him wide open for that teasing.

“Fuck off.” He huffs playfully. “I haven’t seen you jumping off rooftops and chasing fucking sicarios across a comuna.” He does the incredibly mature thing and mean mugs you.

You’re sorely tempted to make a joke about how chasing sicarios is just a warm-up for chasing his own kids, but you falter. It’s never something he wants to talk about, seemingly preferring it stay a topic of the amorphous future. “There will be plenty to do around the ranch,” you say instead, nodding your head like a bobble-headed doll. “A little roll in the hayloft now and then will be well-earned.”

He snorts. “That’s gonna be where our firstborn is conceived.” He jokes, reaching for his glass of tea. The one bright and shining moment out of all of this is maybe that conversation can happen.

“It’s a miracle that it didn’t happen back then.” You hum, trying to keep the conversation light and easy while you fix your bowl and sit beside him at the table. Almost like Javi is a horse that could spook.

“Maybe it should have.” Javi mutters, reaching for your hand. “He wouldn’t have dared tried to keep us apart then.”

“Can you imagine?” The fact that he actually sounds wistful takes you off guard and you quirk your head at him. “They’d be seventeen by now.”

“God, we are old.” He sighs and squeezes your fingers lightly. “What do you think about - uh, stopping your birth control?” He asks. “Is that something you’d want to do?”

“Jeez, Javi.” Squeezing his hand right back, you practically deflate with visible relief. “I thought I was going to have to pry this conversation out of you with surgical precision.”

He snorts. “I did say once I was done with Escobar.” He reminds you wryly. “And I think I’m done.” He doesn’t tell you that talking about something good in the future is helping him deal with the loss of being kicked off the team. He knows you understand that. Like marrying him helped you get through resigning your commission.

“I just didn’t think it would be a light switch kind of situation.” Scooting closer to him, you shift your whole self to give him the comforting warmth of your body just like you have his. “I’m ready when you are, mi amor. Hell, I’ve been ready, I just didn’t want to disrespect the rules we set in place.”

“We are adults.” He rolls his eyes. “If Connie and Steve could adopt Olivia, we could have talked about this if you felt strongly about it.”

“But we didn’t, and that’s okay.” Knowing what kind of stress he’s put himself under, you’re actually glad you didn’t say anything. You can’t even imagine what he would have done if your baby had been born in the middle of this war. What you would have done. “Instead, I have a stupidly long list of baby names stashed in my jewelry box.”

"As long as we don't have a fucking 'Junior', I'm good." He shakes his head and shoots you a smile, trying to find something good in all of this. "We will pack and go home. Start planning our life outside of Colombia and narcos."

“I know damn well you don’t want a junior.” You snort, shaking your head at him. “Maybe this is just the universe telling us it’s time. Giving us a good thing out of a bad situation.”

He's quiet, not answering you but he pokes at his Frito pie and eventually nods before he forks up a bite and shoves it in his mouth. It's not that he disagrees, he's just still a little too raw to look on the bright side. Maybe by the time he gets to Texas he can look at it from that perspective.

The meal is mostly quiet. Every once in a while, one of you will make a quiet comment or mention something you do or don’t want to bring to Texas with you. It’s like an awkward working dinner, almost, because you know you don’t have much time to get things packed and shipped back to the States. Some things - the lumpy couch and cheap pans - you’ll be glad to say goodbye to. Others will be more of a debate.

Javi is quiet and he enjoys the pie, but he wishes there wasn't this cloud hanging over the meal. "I— it's not the way I wanted to go home." He tells you. "I know I'm going to be moody, upset. I just don't want you to think it's because of you."

“I know that.” Your hand curls around his thigh under the table not to distract him, but as an anchor. “And I don’t want you to think that I’m disregarding or ignoring your pain because I’m trying to look for bright spots on the horizon.” Encouraging yourself to look to the future is what has gotten you through all of the hardest patches in your life, but you know not everyone copes that way.

"I love you." He is so fucking grateful you are here. If it had just been him, he would be drunk already, wallowing in self-pity. Instead of doing that, he is eating dinner with his wife and discussing the future.

“I love you, too.” Squeezing his leg gently, you do offer him a gentle smile. “I know it fucking sucks right now, but we’ll be okay.”

******

“So your little Gacelita…how are things going?” Javier’s face burns when his dad mentions you. Turning to stare out the window at the passing fence posts, his stomach flips just thinking about you. He’s never had it this bad. Sure, he’s always liked - no, loved - girls, but you are completely different. “It’s good, Pops.” He mumbles quietly. The rattle of the truck on the rough roads is loud and he hopes that’s all there is to this conversation.

Chucho glances over at his son beside him in the bench seat and chuckles softly to himself. Javier is nearly red just from you being mentioned at all. He’s going to set fire before they make it back to the ranch. “Good?” He asks, voice laced with amusement. “You made plans for Valentine’s Day next weekend?”

“Yeah, um—” He blanks out and his eyes widen in horror. He’s not planned a damn thing beyond the flowers he ordered from Mrs. Rodriguez. “No. I’m gonna blow this and she’s gonna dump me.”

“Whoa, mijo, whoa.” The ferocity of his teen’s reaction makes him chuckle again. Everything is life or death when you’re sixteen - he remembers that well enough. “She not going to dump you, Javi. And you’re not going to mess anything up. Let your old man help you brainstorm a little.”

Javi bites his lip, embarrassed because the idea of you dumping him has him close to fucking tears. He shakes his head. “Nothing to fucking do here. Not unless I take her somewhere else.” He spits out more harshly than he intended, trying to cover his emotions.

“Where would you take her?” This conversation might be easier to steer than he first expected, and Chucho glances at Javier expectantly. He’s sixteen, and even though his girlfriend is a few months younger that doesn’t stop all those hormones from raging. Sixteen was how old he and Maria were when they started going steady, too. He’s not naive enough to think Javi is any different from him.

“Nice dinner.” He sighs. “Something better than the diner.” He looks over at his father and wonders what he did for his ma on their first Valentine’s Day. Not that he tries to wonder too hard about their relationship. That makes him queasy, especially since he knows they wanted more kids. “She’s special and she deserves more.”

“Do you want to borrow the truck? Get out of town for the night?” Chucho was planning on taking Maria out for dinner and a movie - a rare date night for two people who continuously keep busy - and they can easily take Maria’s little car into downtown for that. These kids…Chucho tries not to sigh. It’s obvious how crazy they are about each other, and he wants to make sure Javi is being safe and responsible. Too many things can go wrong when you’re young and impulsive and so clearly in the throes of puppy love. “I want to help, mijo. She’s a good girl and I know you…like her. A lot.”

Javi sighs. “I don’t think her dad will let me take her out of town.” He admits. It was too far away for somewhere really nice. He sighs again and gets an idea. “What about a picnic. Girls like those, right?”

“Girls like picnics.” His father agrees easily. His feelings about your parents don’t belong in this conversation. “Maybe you could take the truck into town and get a nice dinner from someplace nice? Eat under the stars?” It’s not so far off from his and Maria’s first Valentine’s Day, actually.

“She loves going down to the river.” He tells his dad. “I could put some blankets in the back of the truck and we could eat on the riverbank.” He straightens up slightly, cheered up by the idea. “That would be good. Romantic, right?”

“Very romantic.” Chucho nods approvingly as the truck continues to rumble down the road toward home. “Have you thought about getting her flowers? Or a gift?” It’s not that he thinks you’ll expect any of this - no, it’s that he knows that if Javier realizes these are things other girls get from their boyfriends and he didn’t do any of it? He’ll beat himself up for weeks.

“I ordered flowers from Mrs. Rodriguez.” Javi nods. “I went with pink roses. But I still haven’t figured out if I should get her something, too. What do you get a girlfriend?” He feels more comfortable now that he knows he’s not being judged. His dad is honest with him. “We’ve been dating for months but those promise ring ideas are stupid and I— I want it to be something she loves.”

“Well, you know her better than I do, son.” He raises an eyebrow at the mention of jewelry being stupid, but keeps his mouth shut. Promise rings are things teenage boys give their girlfriends when they want to stake their claim. “What does she love?”

“Rings.” Javi chews on his lip and crosses his arms over his chest and glances over at his dad. “Promise rings are stupid, right?” There’s a sense of un surety in his tone, having convinced himself that it was dumb. “People always break up after they have them, for stupid reasons.”

“If you’re not sure, then don’t make yourself crazy about it.” It’s some of his best advice about almost anything, but he snaps his fingers at the idea of jewelry. “What about a necklace or a bracelet?” He can’t remember if you have your ears pierced, never having paid that much attention. “It’s still jewelry, but without any of that hidden meaning.” The creases around his eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Girls like jewelry, mijo. Trust me.”

“She likes necklaces.” Javi admits. “She mentioned a cameo, how she was kinda hurt that Vanessa got her abuela’s.” He mulls it over. “I could get her one for Valentine’s Day.”

Chucho tuts but doesn’t say anything, tucking away one more slight against you by your parents before he simply nods. “Cameos are very beautiful.” He agrees instead. “How about I give you an advance on some extra chores so you can get her something nice?” Maria will probably roll her eyes at him later and call him a softie, but damned if Chucho doesn’t want to help Javi make the celebration a nice one. He knows his boy is in love - he knows it as plain as the noise on his face - and he wants to teach him early that going the extra mile for someone you care about is a responsibility that is worth undertaking.

Javi grins. “That would be great! I’ll make sure that I make up for it.” He promises. “I’ll take over the morning feedings before school for the next two weeks. Let you sleep in a little.”

“So I’m getting a present, too?” He chuckles at the way Javier perks up, glad to see his son feeling more confident. But it’s not the end of the conversation. “Mijo…” Chucho clears his throat and shifts a little in his seat. “You are - you’re being responsible, verdad? Safe?”

“Pops!” His face feels like it’s going to burst into flames, and he slumps down into his seat on the bench. “We aren’t having sex! She’s too— we aren’t ready yet!” He wasn’t going to admit that it was something he thought of— a lot. What teenage boy didn’t? But he knows you aren’t ready yet, and he would rather die of blue balls than pressure you into sex. His ma would kill him, his pops would kill him after his ma got done with him.

“Okay, but mijo, it’s not just sex that needs to be safe. Sex isn’t the only kind of intimacy out there and I know you know that.” If the ground could just swallow him whole, he would be okay with that. Nothing quite prepared a man for having to talk to his teenager about sex, no matter how good the relationship between father and son is. “I was your age once, too, Javito. I just want you to know that you can talk to me.”

“She’s 15.” Javi squirms in his seat and stares at the bugs on the windshield, wishing he were one of them right now, so he didn’t have to go through this embarrassing conversation. “I’m not disgusting. I’m not like the assholes who push for blow jobs.” He practically whispers the last two words in embarrassment. “I love her.”

“I know, mijo.” How is it possible for him to actually get choked up during this conversation? Yet hearing that out of Javier’s mouth nearly does it. Those are the words of a young man, not a boy. Someone growing up to be respectful and good. Nothing could make him prouder than that. “And I know she loves you.” Javier huffs and it makes his father chuckle. “Anybody with eyes knows she loves you, too. But that’s exactly why I’m saying this. Things happen when you’re young and in love. And that’s okay, just as long as you’re responsible.”

“I— uh, they g-gave out condoms in, uh, health class.” Javi lifts his ass off the seat and pulls his wallet out from his left right back pocket. Pulling the foil wrapped rubber out just enough for his father to see. “If we do anything, I know to use it.” He swallows harshly, concentrating very hard on putting it away so he doesn’t have to look at his Pops.

“Okay.” Chucho nods, no more comfortable with the conversation than Javi is, by the looks of it. He can practically hear his son sigh in relief as the truck passes through the ranch’s open gates. “One more thing and I swear I’ll shut up,” he promises. “I don’t care how excited you get, how ready you are, anything of that.” He looks over at his son carefully. “Your first time is in a bed. End of story. If you respect her enough to take that step, then respect her enough to make her comfortable.”

“Yeah Pops.” Javi rushes out. “Can we please stop talking about this? Forever? Tell ma you gave me the talk and I’m good.”

“Yeah, mijo, we’re done. For now.” He chuckles again, mostly in his own relief, but points out the windshield at where your bicycle is leaning against the big tree outside the house when he pulls the truck to a stop. “Go say hi. You can unload the truck later.”

“Thanks Pops.” He hops out of the truck before it stops and shoots off like a rocket for the kitchen and you.

******

September 15, 1993 Laredo, TX

“Hey, there you are.” You wipe your damp hands on your jeans when you hear the front door and wander out of the kitchen with a smile. It’s been hours since Javi and Pops went into town to do a supply run and you just took a break from unpacking to come downstairs and get a drink. “How did everything go?”

“It went.” Javier rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your lips. He had spent way longer in town than he wanted to, having to sit through too many conversations and avoid questions of why he was back in Laredo. “You aren’t working too hard, are you?”

“I have one box left from Fort Dix and then I’m all unpacked.” Both of your arms come around him instantly, the unopened can of Diet Coke in your hand completely forgotten in favour of holding him close. It’s only been a few days since you arrived back in Texas, but you have spent every waking hour relentlessly voracious in your unpacking. This place is home now - it had been years ago and it’s where you’ve decided to spend your future - and the last thing you want is to stare at half-full boxes in the corner of the master bedroom for months after Chucho was so kind as to move his things into the old guest room so you two could have the big bed and private bathroom.

“It feels weird being here.” Javi tells you, sighs into your arms. “Not bad, but you know I almost went to my old bedroom last night when I got up to take a piss?”

“You would have been lonely when you woke up.” The image of him sleepy and discombobulated makes you grin.

“I’d have been pissed before I realized what happened.” He argues. “Thinking my wife went to sleep on the couch.”

“That couch?” You huff, looking over at the threadbare living room couch a few feet away. “No, that thing is getting replaced as soon as I can convince your Dad that’s what has been causing half of his back issues. I’m not sleeping on that thing.”

Javi chuckles. “We can get Pops a recliner for his birthday. I know he’s been wanting one.”

“Perfect.” Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you sigh happily at his familiar scent and hum. “Wanna help me with the last box? Then we can finish yours and maybe we’ll be done by tonight.”

“I’ll help you with whatever you want.” He promises, kissing your head. “I know you are ready to be unpacked and settled in.”

“It will do both of us good to feel like this is home and not some kind of weigh station.” Tipping your head back, you steal a kiss from his lips before snagging his hand and heading for the stairs. He may think you’re throwing yourself at all the unpacking a little too hard, but he’ll thank you when it’s done.

“What all do we have left to unpack?” He asks. “I think I’ve just got a box of physiology books. But I’m not unpacking them right now.”

“You have a half a box of stuff left that looks like albums and VHSs. I’m not sure what’s in my last box, to be honest.” At the top of the stairs you turn left instead of right, reminding yourself silently (like he had needed reminding last night) not to go to his old bedroom. “It was all sealed up at Dix and I just threw it in the truck.”

“Oh yeah.” Javi smirks and waggles his eyebrows at you. “Uh, don’t put those VHS tapes out in the living room.” He warns you. “Might give Pops a heart attack.”

“It’s those tapes. Got it.” Steve and Connie had given Javi a beautiful, sleek new camcorder last Christmas and the two of you had been putting it to good use ever since. But they are definitely not the sort of home videos you’ll be sharing with your father-in-law.

Javi snickers. “You don’t want your father-in-law to see you naked?” He asks playfully, slapping your ass as you walk into the bedroom.

“That’s not exactly on my list of good things in life.” You laugh, shaking your head at him as he follows you into the room and plops down on the big bed. “I love him, but the biggest eyeful he’ll ever get of me is in a bathing suit.”

He chuckles and hefts the last box you have up into the bed and reaches into his pocket for his knife. “Come see what this stuff is.” He motions you over.

The only labeling on it is your last name, and considering it’s your maiden name, the box has to be considerably older than just the most recent move. “Oh shit…” you murmur, when the first thing to catch your eye on the top of its contents is your high school letterman sweater. “No wonder I can’t remember what’s in this box. It’s been packed up since the Stone Age.”

“Oh?” He perks up slightly. Javier is nosy by training and snooping through your things sounds appealing. “Your very own time capsule huh? Like my old bedroom?”

“You could say that.” Holding up the sweater, you throw him a lopsided grin. “Remember these?”

“Oh God, you kept that?” He huffs, taking it from you and holding it up. “We’re going to have our twenty-year reunion soon.” He shakes his head.

“I guess I know what I’m wearing.” You grin when he wraps it around his shoulders like a shawl. “And then when we come home, I can wear just these, just for you.” The smile on your face turns a little naughty when you pull a white satin sash and dainty little rhinestone tiara out of the box next. Connie and Steve had nearly lost their minds when you told them (after a little too much rum) that you and Javi had been prom king and queen your senior year. “I guess this is all my high school stuff. I just kept bringing the box with me every time I moved instead of tossing it.”

“I’m surprised.” He admits softly. “I figured you would have gotten rid of it all.”

“Honestly?” Setting the prom tokens aside, you shrug at him and dig back in to pull out a photo album next. “I probably just shoved it in the back of my closet when I left for boot camp and just eventually forgot what was inside.”

He sighs, knowing there is no reason for either one of you to feel guilty about anything. You open the album, and he rests his chin on your shoulder as he smothers the guilty feeling of how he should have tracked you down. “Oh my god. Kids.” He mutters. “We were kids.”

“Look at you!” It comes out as a squeal, immediately followed by manic giggling as you flip through page after page of you and Javi as teens when it finally dawns on you what this box is. “Oh my god…” You shove the album aside and dive back into the box, knocking things around a little until you prove to yourself that you’re right. “This is…this is my Javi box…” Holy fucking time capsule Batman.

“Your ‘Javi box’?” His brow shoots up and when you open it, he waits for you to get the dreamy, awe struck look off your face and show him what’s inside.

“Yeah, it’s—” Completely overcome with all of the memories you didn’t know you still had, you tip the box over on the bed and watch his eyes widen as a time capsule of your early years together spills out in front of him. But the little blue velvet box in your hand is cradled safely in your fingers for him to see inside. “It’s all the things about us that I boxed up and put away after…after everything happened. Photos, mementos, all your gifts…” Gifts like the little cameo necklace from your first Valentine’s Day currently nestled in your hand.

“Jesus.” His fingers trace over the ivory of the silhouette. “I remember this so clearly. I almost got you a promise ring, but I was worried that it would be a bad omen.”

“A bad omen?” Lifting the necklace out of its box, you immediately reach to clasp the necklace around the back of your neck and adjust the collar of your shirt so the pendant sits comfortably on your chest. It’s wonderfully nostalgic to wear it again, and you lift one eyebrow at him as you remember the other very important detail of that particular night. “Because you knew I was going to give you a hand job in the bed of the truck?”

He smirks at the memory. “No, I definitely didn’t anticipate the hand job.” He huffs at you. “It seemed like everyone gave their girlfriends promise rings only to break up two weeks later.” He shakes his head. “It’s stupid looking back on it now, but I was scared it would happen to us.”

“That’s not stupid.” You promise him, but you have a shit-eating grin plastered on your face that belies the sweet tone in your voice. “You’re just a big softie. Always have been. Big, bad Javier Peña is really just a teddy bear when he’s in love.”

“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes, even as he pulls you into his arms. “Remind me why I married you again?”

“Because you looooooove me.” Giggling against his chest, both of your hands come up to cup his cheeks so you can press your lips to his. “You’re my teddy bear.”

He huffs but doesn’t pull away. “Jerk.” He smirks against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your ass.

“Your jerk.” You giggle evilly, rolling your hips a little to push your ass further into his hand. He hasn’t been particularly playful over the last few days - which is completely understandable - but it’s nice to see little glimpses of humor from him like this.

“Yes, you are.” He winks at you, leaning in and kissing you again. He pats your ass in a playful spank. “You can make it up to me. Wearing that tiara and sash tonight. No.” He changes his mind. “Just the cameo.”

“Scandalous.” Your tone is all faux shock, but the way you nip at his bottom lip is pure agreement. “Just the cameo, just for you.” If you’re honest with yourself, it will probably be at least a week or two before you go without it again. Finding back such a precious memory is something you hadn’t expected.

“Always hated how sad you were that your sister got your grandmother’s.” He murmured. “Imagined you passing it down to our daughter.”

“We can pass down this one.” It’s unbelievable to you, how he still remembers such seemingly small details so many years later. If you asked him, he would say that it’s not small at all, but that doesn’t stop you from appreciating the way he really listens to you and always has. It’s a highly underrated skill, the way he listens. “If we have two girls, we can let them pick from my jewelry box.”

“If we have two girls, I’m finding a cameo that is exactly the same.” Javier huffs. “We’re gonna be communists in our household. One will not be more important than the other.”

“How about we just let them have their own personalities instead of deciding for them what they’ll like?” You grin and kiss him gently before shrugging a little. “Vanessa didn’t even want it. Dad just never wanted me to get girly gifts.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Idiot.” He kisses you again. “So, you know Danny’s wedding is this weekend.” He reminds you softly.

“Mmhmm.” Another stolen kiss and you grin against his lips. “I gotta wear more than just the cameo to that, though.”

“Yeah…Lorraine’s been invited.” He tries to break the news gently, knowing you still feel things about her part in the lies.

You frown instantly, unable to hide your reaction to her name. Her existence. It’s not that you haven’t had plenty of time as a couple to work past what happened, it’s that you haven’t seen her since you found out what she did, and you can’t completely guarantee that you won’t want to smack the Aqua Net right out of her hair. “It’s Danny’s wedding, I won’t start shit.” That much you can promise. “But you bet your ass I’m going to dress the fuck up and drag you onto the dance floor as many times as you’ll let me.”

He groans at the prospect of having to dance. "I'm not dressing up." He warns you. "It would be weird if I did. But I'll dance with you. Just to say thank you for not starting shit."

“Will you at least wear slacks instead of jeans?” No one in his family is very fancy, and you sort of love that about them, but you do want to be respectful of how important the day is. “I’m not even asking for a tie, baby. We both know I’ll be in my cowboy boots with my dress. Half-fancy, if you will.”

He huffs and gives a small shrug. "It's supposed to be jeans." He reminds you. "I was going to wear the new ones you bought me and that red plaid shirt you bought with it."

“Alright, alright, jeans.” Huffing and rolling your eyes as though it were a big deal, you slip your hand down to his ass and squeeze. “All that matters is that I get to be there with you. It’s Danny’s day and we’re just there for them.”

******

He's more relaxed than he honestly thought he would be. It's been years since he's really been to any of the large family gatherings. Even though family and friends used any opportunity they could to get together and celebrate, Danny's wedding was still fun. People he hadn't seen in years, Danny included - dressed sharply in his Marine uniform - all talking and catching up. It was nice. His Nicorette gum keeps that craving for a cigarette at bay, knowing you will kill him if he sneaks outside for the rare smoke, his eyes roam the community center room, looking for you.

“You lose her again?” Chucho chuckles when he plops down beside his son at a table, obviously craning his neck to find you in the crowd. “Your tía Juanita caught her getting a sangria refill. You’ll be lucky to pry your esposa away in about five years the way Juanita is talking at her.”

Javi chuckles and shakes his head, "Well I guess I won't be getting her back anytime soon." He tells his pops. "All of this reminds me that I need to get my wife an engagement ring."

“All this reminded you?” That makes Chucho laugh again, but he shakes his head at his son. “You really didn’t have time for yourselves down there, did you?”

“I went the day we got married to get her ring.” He huffs, feeling a little self-conscious. “It was about making sure she could stay in Colombia and then…I was trying make sure I got everything done.”

“Okay, so she needs an engagement ring.” The elder Peña nods in authoritative agreement. “I don’t know what you’ll find here, but they just opened a new jewelry store in the mall.” The place he had bought Maria’s things closed down years ago, and it’s not as though Chucho has bought much jewelry lately. “You might have to drive out to Corpus Christi.”

Javi purses his lips. “Yeah.” He looks around and reaches up to rub the back of his neck.

“You’ve got a couple of months before your anniversary.” He tries to be encouraging, wishing he had held on to the engagement ring that Javier had bought when you were kids. What he wouldn’t give to be able to return it to the two of you now - but Maria had taken charge of selling it years ago. “Plenty of time to find something she’ll like.”

“Yeah.” Javi’s mind whirls as he imagines giving you a ring for your anniversary. “I just have to see if her taste has changed.”

It takes a moment, but Chucho sighs slightly and takes a sip of the beer that has been sitting in front of him since he sat down. “You’re welcome to give her anything of your Ma’s, mijo. I have her jewelry box in my closet.” He hasn’t been able to even open it since she died. It had been sitting on the dresser collecting dust like a relic until he moved his things into the spare room so the two of you could have the master bedroom. But he knows it’s what Maria would want him to say. She loved you like a daughter even back then. She would be proud to see you wear her things.

"Thanks Pops." Javi reaches over and squeezes his father's arm. He knows how much his mother's death was felt by the older man every day. He could honestly say that he had an amazing example of what true love was in his parents and he had never felt it with anyone other than you. It was the reason he had never settled down after getting out of marrying Lorraine. "We can look through her jewelry after. I know she would be honored."

“She cried the night I told her you wanted to propose.” Chucho huffs at the memory, a watery smile creeping across his face. “She was so proud of you. Growing up so fast and ready to jump in headfirst.” She had also been devastated right alongside her son when you had left, but at least Maria had had a better idea where to lay the blame.

Javi sighs, remembering that time when he was so very happy and then upset when you told him you were moving. That upset turning to bitter anger, your name a curse in his eyes and he refused to talk about you, to anyone. "I wish she could have seen where we ended up." He murmurs softly.

“Tu madré está mirando.” Chucho promises, his voice just as quiet. “Ella sabe.” (Your mother is watching. She knows.)

Both men are quiet as they think about the woman that each of them had loved in different ways. Javi looks over at you again and gives a soft smile. "I better go save her, so she doesn't starve to death." He jokes. "That's a sin at a party around here."

Talking to Tía Juanita is a little like having an overexciting happy dog nipping at your heels - it’s fun for about two minutes before you’re already exhausted and wishing she weren’t so sweet, so you’d have an excuse to run away. But as the youngest of Chucho’s sisters, you smile and nod and make delighted sounds at all the right places in the stories about her kids, waiting for the ball to drop on the question. “Ay, querida, when are you and Javier going to give us some beautiful bebitas?” You smile, and sigh inwardly at the inevitability and how often you’ve been asked that today by his various relatives and all your old friends. “We’re working on it,” you tell them all with a breezy chuckle, wishing you knew where Javi is.

Javi moves through the crowd of people, nodding at various family friends and smiling at a couple of cousins. Jesus, when did Isabella have twins? He finds you and his hand automatically goes to your waist. "Gacelita, Tía." He murmurs.

You turn in to kiss his cheek immediately, hiding the quick way you pinch his arm as if to ask Where have you been? but his tía jumps in before you can say a word. “Javito, why are you not dancing with your bride?” Juanita scolds, obviously considering it the greatest injustice in the world that you have been neglected. “How do you expect to give her a baby if you will not even dance with her?”

His grin is hidden when he leans in to kiss your neck. “Because dancing leads to babies?” He whispers in your ear. “Let me steal her from you and correct that. tía.” He guides you away from his aunt easily with her waving the two of you away.

Burying your amused chuckle in his shoulder, you lean easily into your husband’s side on the makeshift dance floor and wrap your arms around him. “Everything leads to babies if you ask Juanita.”

“Well then we should already have about twenty.” Javi teases you softly, tugging you close and starting to sway to the country song.

“Thank god for birth control,” you joke quietly. You’ve only been off the pill for about two weeks at this point, having made the decision to start trying for a baby the night the Miami Herald story broke and Javi was told he was being sent home. It was the silver lining in all the bad - a thing to look forward to despite all the heartache. “Twenty is definitely too many.”

“What? You don’t think you could have that many?” He teases. “I’m honestly surprised I don’t have any mini Peñas running around.”

“I am completely okay with you not having a bunch of kids with other women.” You grumble, knowing your possessiveness is showing.

He chuckles, smirking at the way that your hands tighten around him. His gaze roams around the room and he spots the blonde hair of probably the biggest embodiment of that statement. “Nope, no kids and no other women for me.” He promises.

“Danny looks happy.” The last time you saw Javi’s young cousin he was maybe six years old. He had grown into every inch a typical Peña man - broad shoulders and black hair with a hint of mischief always in his eyes. “I’m glad we came, mi amor.”

“Me too.” He sees Lorraine turn and her eyes widen slightly when she catches sight of Javi. “Although that might change in a minute.”

“Did she see us?” True to your word, you hadn’t said anything when you spotted Lorraine across the community center about a half hour ago. You had just excused yourself to powder your nose and stopped to get a refill of your drink, and then been blindsided by tía Juanita.

“Yep.” Javi pops the ‘p’ and looks back at you. “Head out or head on?” He asks, wanting to know how you wanted to handle this.

You blow out a breath, sending the hair on the back of his neck waving in the breeze, before you turn your head slightly to kiss his cheek. “Head on. Let’s just deal with it. Otherwise it’s only going to get more dramatic and awkward.”

He hums in agreement and squeezes your waist before he pulls away and you turn slightly as you walk off the dance floor. Javi moves his hand to your back and rubs it slightly when Lorraine walks up.

“Well, you could just blow me over with a feather. Lookit what the cat dragged in.” The smile is painted on her face and you can’t tell if her twang has deepened with the effort of trying to keep her faux delight in place, or if it’s just got thicker over time. Her eyes dart over you nervously, and you can feel the shock at seeing you roll off her in waves. “Good of y’all to come celebrate with Danny while you’re in town.”

"Town gossip apparently isn't what it used to be." Javi muses, looking over at you with wry amusement. "You didn't hear that we've moved back? We aren't just in town, we're here to stay." He tells her with no little amount of glee in him over watching her smile tighten.

“Ya don’t say?” Of course she had heard. Cindy Hightower had practically run to her house with the news after seeing you at the supermarket last week, deeming it much too important for a phone call.

“Mm.” Your noncommittal hum is punctuated by the way you rope your arm around Javier’s waist to deliberately flash your wedding band in the buzzing halogen lights of the center. “Married almost two years now. Guess the universe just couldn’t keep us apart. No matter how hard it tried.”

It’s interesting to see the color flood her cheeks. “Well, it’s good and all to see that some childish things never get old.” She gives a wooden smile. “Two years and no babies? Not for you? I’m sure that it’s a horrible downgrade from being in the Army. Although I'm sure Chucho gave up on grandbabies when Jav ...left."

“Not everyone measures their marriage by how many children they’ve had,” you remind her, simultaneously reminding yourself not to just straight up punch her in the jaw for her part in what happened. “But since you’re ever so curious—” Nosy. “Our work has kept us plenty busy, but this time next year I’m sure there will be another little set of feet pattering around the ranch.”

“Really?” Lorraine arches a brow and her lips purse in a smile that is not quite genuine. “Well, I’m happy to hear that! I’m sure the doctors know what they are doing.”

What the fuck does that mean? You refuse to show confusion in your face though, simply smiling back and squeezing Javi’s side a little. “I’m sure we’ll see you around town,” you say, trying your best to sound polite as you step backward to nudge Javi back toward the dance floor.

Javi nods, and his eyes drift past Lorraine to where Randy is minding the two children that she had created with the man she married after he had left her at the altar. "Give Randy my best." He tells her as he turns and gives you his total attention. "I think she was taking a pot shot at us having kids at our age." He huffs as he pulls you into his arms. "Or I am reading too much into that doctor comment?"

“Is that what she meant?” Burying your frown in his shoulder, you huff when he starts to away lightly with you in his arms. “She remembers I’m younger than her, right?” Mid 30s isn’t exactly ancient, even if it feels like it sometimes.

"Don't listen to anything she says." He huffs. "She's just bitter that no one is upset that I left her at the altar."

“Cunt as dry at Chihuahuan Desert.” You’re grumbling - you know you’re grumbling - but passive aggressive church lady rivalries aren’t your style. You’d much rather land a right hook and then call the whole thing over with. You can take the girl out of the Army, but you can’t take the Army out of the girl. “Don’t know how you survived her sometimes.”

Javi flashes you a grin. “I was drunk most of the time.” He admits, leaning in a kissing you softly. “Enough beer you don’t care. I think my liver was happy I went into the DEA.”

“Jesus.” The grimace you give him is pronounced. “The DEA was light drinking?” You’ve both cut back since leaving Colombia, just out of reduced stress.

“Yeah.” Javi shakes his head and looks around the reception hall. “Are you ready to leave, baby?”

“Might as well.” Things are suddenly feeling less festive, and Chucho drove separately to the church, so you don’t have to feel guilty about asking him to leave early. “Maybe we can sneak out the back without your tías noticing.”

Javi's hand slides down and he squeezes your ass. "If we run into any of them, we will just tell them that we are going to make babies." He teases.

“They’ll throw us a damn parade.” You snicker and press in to kiss him softly. “Let’s go home, baby.”

You both make your way over to Danny and his bride, congratulating them again before both of you are out the door and hustling across the parking lot with the mid-evening sun of September still blinding everything and making him hand his aviators over to you. He's learned that you refuse to carry sunglasses and he keeps a spare pair in the truck for just that occasion.

“I missed the way Texas smells.” Living all over the world has given you the odd insight that places have very distinct natural aromas the way people do, and the dry southern Texas heat with its particular flora carries a particular scent you’ve never encountered anywhere else. “I know that’s weird. But it…it smells like home.”

"Sweat, dirt, and cows mixed with the Grande?" He lifts a brow at you as he starts the truck and puts it in drive. "That's home?"

“Yes.” You roll your eyes at him and snort. “All that, plus your boot stink.”

He huffs at you, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. "you" incoherent mumbling "- stink."

“Excellent comeback. Very mature. Very articulate.” Dissolving into laughter beside him, it’s all you can do not to fold in half in the passenger seat from his ridiculous rebuttal.

"Fuck off." He turns his head to hide his own grin, even though his hand slides across the console so he can grab your thigh. "I'll just have to take my boot stink somewhere else." He threatens playfully.

“Why do you think I make you take them off at the door?” The playful bickering is easy. Just teasing between two people aimlessly crazy about each other who are still ball busters.

"I honestly thought it was because you didn't want cow shit tracked through the house. But apparently it's because the boots stink." He shakes his head. "Not like your bras don't smell like shit before you wash them because of your tits sweating."

You snort in amusement, raising at eyebrow at him as he drives. “If my tits are so gross then why do you like to suck on them so much?”

"I did not say your tits are gross." He corrects you quickly. "I said your bras get gross." He chuckles. "I could ask the same question about my dick." He doesn't know how the two of you really got on this conversation, but he loves the fact that he can joke with you. Even as he hates being sent home, there is a certain light heartedness about being back home.

“I can just stop sucking your dick if you’re concerned about hygiene.” Honestly, if Javi had issues with cleanliness, you would have cured them with shower sex by now. But making you kiss an ashtray was his worst offense, and he switched over to nicotine gum more than a year ago.

"Got it...no bitching about the gross bras. Noted." He smirks over at you. "You could do it now, if you wanted." He teases, waggling his brows and glancing at the road before he looks down at his crotch.

“You want road head after teasing me about under-boob sweat?” Your tone is fully teasing, but you’re already shifting in your seat to lay across the bench.

"It's only cause I'm jealous of the bra." Javi confesses, his tone serious. "It's my job to hold up your tits."

“Are you going to walk behind me all day every day? Just be my human bra all the time and hold up my tits?” The image makes you giggle again, even as your fingers dance across the front of his jeans to pull open his belt.

“Shit, are you really?” He chokes when you cup him through the jeans. “Fuck.”

“Eyes on the road, handsome.” The warning is sing-song, as you pull open Javi’s belt and pop the button on his jeans to be able to drag his zipper down easily. True to form, he didn’t bother to put on boxers or any other kind of underwear today, and the moment his jeans are open you practically drool at how he’s half hard just from having you nearby.

“Fuck baby.” He hisses when you reach in and pull him out. Feeling himself grow and harden while you start to lightly stroke him. “You look so fucking good today.”

“My ass is about to be hanging out of this dress,” you giggle, feeling lighter than air in this moment of indulgence. Feeling Javi’s cock grow under your attention is one of your favorite sensations and you’re savoring the hell out of it as you roll back his foreskin and kitten lick the tip of his cock.

“Shit.” His dick jumps at the feeling of your tongue. Fingers are white knuckling the steering wheel because the last thing he wants is for him to crash and you to get hurt. Or bite his dick off. Your tongue drags around the sensitive head, and he moans quietly. “Good goddamn thing we left.”

You hum as you lick a hot stripe up the length of his cock, loving the way he has turned to steel in your hand. “Get some alone time.” Not that Pops doesn’t give you plenty of privacy, but you’re always hyper aware of your volume when your father-in-law is home. “Make me scream your name.”

“Fuck.” He hums and sneaks a glance down at you. You always look like you love sucking his cock. Which he could understand since burying his mouth in your cunt was his second favorite pastime, fucking you narrowly beating that out. “Wanna go up to the hayloft?”

The sound you make when you pop off of him is obscene and beautiful. “Fuck yes,” you moan happily. “Our spot.”

“Pops was pissed I didn’t take you to bed the first time.” Javi muses. “Had to convince him you didn’t want to go into the house.”

“Too awkward.” You barely get the words out as your tongue swirls around his blunted head. “And too eager.”

He groans and squeezes his eyes closed for a second before he has to look back at the road. Damn near misses the turn to the ranch. “Shit.”

“Eyes on the road, cowboy.” Your hand dips into his jeans to cup his balls, rolling them gently between your fingers while you fill your mouth with his length. Inch by inch he disappears until you have to swallow around him, feeling that beautiful stretch and burn in your throat instead of your pussy.

“Goddamnit.” He huffs and grips the wheel even tighter. “Don’t want— fuck.” He bites his lip and smothers another moan. “Wanna be in you.” He’s technically on Peña land when he jerks the wheel and the tires skid when he stops the truck. Knowing he’s not going to last long, and he wants to be buried in your cunt when he does bust.

Swallowing once more just to hear him moan, you carefully pop off of him and sit up in your seat again. “Back, bed, or bench?” You ask, giving him the option of how he wants to fuck you, since you’re out in the middle of nowhere: on his back in the back of the truck, bending you over with the truck bed for leverage, or right there on the bench seat.

He’s already out from behind the wheel and reaching for you. “Right fucking here.” He growls, dragging you over his thighs to straddle him.

“Needy.” You tease, not that you mind one little bit. It’s that much better though, when he reaches between you to shove your panties aside and finds nothing but a bare, dripping cunt waiting for him. “Whoops.” You grin and nip at his neck. “Looks like I forgot underwear too.”

“I fucking love you.” He groans and lines himself up before he’s thrusting up into you with a groan.

The unapologetic way he needs to be inside you makes you whimper, holding on to his shoulders while you roll your hips in his lap and sink down to take him fully. “Fuckin— fuck baby I love you, too.”

“Jesus.” He wraps his arms around you and starts to move under you. “One social, fuck, event and we’re fucking like rabbits in the truck like we-we’re teenagers again.”

“Except this time there’s no lecture f-from, oh god,” the words slip for a second when the flat of his hand comes down on your ass sharply. “From Father Martín.” One time you got caught making out behind the church after sneaking out of a Sunday service and wow had the lecture about purity and self-control been lengthy and condescending.

He huffs out a chuckle. “And I fucked you twice right after.” He reminds you, the urge to rebel had been strong and he was seventeen and horny.

“I talk to god a fuckton more with you than in church.” You giggle, but it turns into a throaty moan when Javi shifts his hips to snap them up, filling you again in one powerful thrust.

“Yeah?” He pants out, already breathing heavy but he’s bracing his feet on the floorboard so he can drive up into you harder, keeping you close to him so he doesn’t slam your head into the roof.

“So— oh my fucking god, baby — so good to me.” The fingers of one of your hands wind in his hair, tugging his head back so you can kiss him while you whimper and clench down on his cock. “Always so fucking good to me.”

He groans into your mouth and one of his hands moves to your clit. Pressing his thumb to the bundle of nerves and starts rubbing while he continuously moves inside you. You whine, hips bucking as you grind down in desperate search of your orgasm. “So close.” The way the coil in your belly is tightening, you could burst at any moment.

“Do it.” He growls out, continuing to rub your clit and bouncing you on his cock. His teeth nip at your neck, and he hums when you clench around him. “Cum, mi esposa.”

“Fuck, fuck, Javi!” You slam down in his lap twice more behind your whole body tenses up and draws him in, bearing down on his pulsing cock as you shudder with pleasure in his arms.

He’s immediately following after you, burying his nose against your pulse and groaning out your name while his body gives into that need. His cock twitching and pumping his seed into your womb and flooding you with heat.

Your whole body relaxes, slouching in his lap and making you yelp in surprise when your ass nudges the steering wheel just enough to press the truck’s horn. It sends you into a fit of giggles instead and you hold on to him for dear life while you both shake with laughter.

“God it’s never boring with you.” He murmurs, kissing your lips and sighing while he feels himself start to soften inside you. “Sorry, I couldn’t wait.”

“If you wanted a boring wife, you should have married Lorraine.” You throw him a wink and lean down to kiss him softly. Shifting carefully off his lap, you spin around on the seat and lay with your head beside his ass, feet and half your legs dangling out the open window and you grin up at him when he tilts his head at you. “Can’t waste it,” you explain simply, shrugging up at him. Any chance at making a baby is precious - if that means sitting like a weirdo in his truck on the way back to the house instead of your normal position with some pillows under your knees, then so be it.

“Never thought I’d see you trying to keep my cum inside you.” He chuckles. “Although 18-year-old me never got to experience you without a condom.”

“I’m fucking proud of us for never even having a scare.” It would have been terrifying, and even if it would have potentially kept you together, teen parenthood would ultimately not have been a good idea for either of you “Besides, it was recently pointed out to me that I’m old, so I’ll take any extra help we can get.”

He snorts. “You aren’t old.” He promises you. “We haven’t even hit our 20-year reunion. Then we can be old.”

“Jav…” You reach up, fingers trailing along his jaw as he tucks himself away and turns the key in the steering column. The warmth of the night is seeping into your bones and making you sleepy on the heels of your little emergency quickie. “Take me home, baby? I’m feeling snuggly.”

“Hmmm.” His hand cups your cheek and then down your neck and between your breasts to your stomach. “My wife needs to curl up with her husband?” He asks softly.

“Yes, please.” Batting your eyelashes daintily, the weight of his hands on your skin makes you hum with contentment.

“Then we will go to bed, baby.” He doesn’t mind that at all. Nothing beat the sleep he got when he was wrapped around you. The sleep here in Texas better than Colombia.

“Nooooo.” The protest is positively childish but you don’t care, because it makes him smile as he starts pulling the truck back out into the beaten path to the house. “I’m not sleepy, just snuggly. Might even want to ride you again before we fall asleep if you’re up for it later.”

“No one said we were going to sleep.” He amends. “I said we were going to bed. But don’t blame me if I fall asleep. Having you naked, post orgasm in bed makes me sleep like a baby.”

******

You scamper upstairs when you get back to the house, boots rejected by the door and purse hung on the coat rack with his leather jacket. It’s more than wanting to get in bed and snuggle up, the need to pee from all that sangria snuck up on you, too.

Javi starts laughing before he even closes the bedroom door. You’ve always sounded like an elephant pissing. The loud sound coming from the open bathroom door. “Feel better, Gacelita?”

“Yep.” You do, but you a still flick clean water at him and wrinkle your nose when you come out of the bathroom. “It’s only gonna get louder and more frequent when I’m pregnant, babe.”

He snorts and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Yeah, but the cute little waddle will make up for it.” He teases. Pulling the shirt out of his pants, he shrugs it off and tosses it into the clothes hamper.

“I hope you still think it’s cute when you’re giving my waddlers a foot rub every night.” Your dress follows his shirt into the hamper, and you unhook your bra with a sigh before falling into bed naked.

“Considering you’d be waddling because of me; I’d be a dick if I didn’t.” He shoves his jeans down and peels off his socks and leaves them on the floor before he crawls into the bed beside you. “Shit.” He huffs and sits up. “Forgot. Be right back.”

“Okay?” He pads out of the room in all his naked glory, and you just shrug and cuddle up under the covers. You’re far too relaxed to really care what he’s up to. He’ll be back in a minute, and you can curl up to him instead of his pillow.

It was easy to find the box, up on a shelf above the hangers. It makes him pause when he sees the box with his ma’s wedding dress, something he had seen countless times growing up. Now that he’s back with you and married, it makes him realize how deep losing Maria had cut Chucho. Fingers wrap around the wooden box, and he pulls it down carefully and carries it back into the bedroom.

“What’s that?” You sit up in bed when he walks back in with what looks like a keepsake or jewelry box of some kind.

“It’s ma’s jewelry box.” Javi tells you as he walks over to the bed and sets it down in front of you before he goes back to close the door and join you. “Pops said— well, he said Ma would have wanted you to wear and enjoy some of her things.”

“Oh my god.” Your fingers brush the stained wood carefully and when your eyes flick back up to meet his, they’re definitely a little more watery than usual. “Is this okay with you, mi amor?” Pop’s permission is only half of it for you, these are as Javi’s mother’s things and as honoured as you would be to inherit them, you don’t want to upset him at all.

“Baby…” He bites his lips and his fingers curl around yours on top of the box. “I know my mother would have been thrilled to have you as her daughter-in-law and insisted you have anything you loved.” He tells you passionately. “I – her wedding dress is still in Pop’s closet, and it made me think about how he must have felt.

“Your mom was great. So many other girls had horror stories about their boyfriend’s moms and I just…she was always so nice to me.” Slipping your fingers along the side of the box, you pop the latch carefully and open the top to reveal perhaps two dozen pairs of earrings carefully tucked into velvet lined indentations and several dainty fashion rings in various finishes with brightly coloured stones. “Maybe…maybe if we have a girl…her middle name could be Maria?” It’s a sentimental idea, one you’ve bandied back and forth with yourself over the last few months without ever mentioning but you know it would mean the world to Chucho, and Javi loved his mother fiercely. You would be happy to honour her legacy of love and support.

“Y-yeah.” Javier whispers quietly, more touched than he can ever tell you. “I would like that.” He looks at the jewelry and recognizes most of the pieces. Some he had ‘given’ to his mother when he was younger and his Pops had really picked out the gift, others some he had seen her wear religiously, like the small gold crosses. She had been buried in a similar pair.

“Oh wow…” Chuckling a little, you pick up a small pair of gold hoop earrings with green glass beads at the stud. “I gave her these for Christmas one year. I can’t believe she kept them…”

“She was a sentimental woman.” He murmurs, reaching up and squeezing your shoulders as you both sift through memories. “She never lost faith in you.” He tells you. “Only time I really yelled at Ma was when she was trying to tell me that you wouldn’t move on, and I told her I never wanted to talk about you again. Surprised she didn’t beat my ass.”

“She wanted you to be happy.” That much you’re sure of, looking back it’s obvious that she saw how you complemented and challenged each other. She was the biggest fan of your relationship. Your fingers dance over her wedding rings and you smile softly. “Let’s save these for our kids,” you hum, feeling yourself get misty. “Maybe they’ll go to the next Peña bride.”

“Yeah, I don’t want Pops to give them up just yet.” He leans in and kisses your shoulder.

There are some beautiful things here. Of course there are, Maria had great taste. Timeless pieces that will never go out of style alongside some particularly 60s and 70s looking things that she accumulated over time. When you open up the drawer underneath the main compartment there are some beautiful necklaces carefully pinned into the velvet lining so the chains don’t tangle, and you smile at them each as you run your fingers over them. There is a small jeweler’s box tucked into the back corner of the drawer and you expect a pair of fine earrings - Maria loved green so maybe emeralds? - but something very different is sitting inside. A gold ring with small diamond chips - seven in total. Six in a circle to represent flower petals and one in the center ringed in silver to complete the flower. You’ve had this ring described to you before and you gasp instantly. It can’t be…

“Oh my god.” Javi chokes out, his hand reaching out and taking the box from you and stares down at the ring he had thought was long gone. “I— this is the engagement ring I bought for you. How—” He blinks back tears. “She kept it. She gave me the money for it and kept it.”

“Oh my god…” The words are on your lips too, the same disbelieving tears in your eyes, and wonder on your face. “She…she really never did give up on us, did she?”

“No.” Javi shakes his head, and he bites his lip. “Ma loved you.” He reaches out and laces his fingers with yours. “I— I never told you but— she, uh, at the end she talked about you. How she missed you and wished she could see you one last time. Tell you how much she loved you.”

“Can we go see her tomorrow?” The tears in your eyes fall freely at that, guilt twisting your gut as you squeeze his hand tightly. You know she’s buried at Nuestea Señora Del Rosario but haven’t ventured out there yet. Not even when you came back with Connie last year. “I—I just want to talk to her. Tell her that everything’s okay. I know your dad says she’s always watching but…I don’t know. It’s silly, but I feel like she’ll hear us better there.”

“Of course.” Even if he didn’t ever go to his mother’s grave, he would never deny you that. Holding the box still, he wraps his arm around you and tugs you to his chest. “We can go visit her, Gacelita”

“It’s beautiful, by the way.” Pressed against his chest, you wrap both arms around him and hold on tight. The way your heart is pounding, you just can’t hear anything else except the blood in your ears and his deep voice. “The ring…it’s…it’s stunning.”

"I— would you want to wear it?" He asks you softly. "The real reason I wanted you to go through the jewelry was to see what you might like so I could get you an engagement ring for our anniversary."

“Baby.” You look up at him with a fully incredulous expression, and a smile that betrays it. “I would be honoured to wear it. It— I mean —” You huff a little, sniffling through the words and trying to get yourself to form a coherent sentence. “This is my engagement ring, mi amor. It doesn’t matter how long it took to get to me.”

He flushes slightly, ears burning and rubs the back of his neck. "I don’t— I bought it as a kid. I didn't know if-if you like it, considering - you know, tastes change." His own inability to string together sentence is pissing him off but he's a little less sure about the ring now than he was when he bought it.

“I love it.” You promise him, pressing a kiss to his burning cheek. “I love it now as much as I would have loved it then.” Putting aside the fact that you love flowers with your jewelry, it actually is a beautiful piece.

"Okay." He grins at you, boyish and shy and even though he's butt ass naked, he slides off the bed and down to one knee. "Gacelita, will you wear this engagement ring that should have been yours nearly 18 years ago and make me smile every time I see it on your hand?" He asks with a wink.

“Get up here.” You’re laughing and smiling through the tears when you beckon him back up on the bed. “I love you, and I can’t wait to wear my ring proudly.”

“Well, let’s see if it fits.” He huffs, knees popping slightly, and he plucks the ring out of the box and tosses the velvet container aside.

It slips onto your finger easily and you practically giggle when he leans down to kiss it and your finger. “It would have been so big when you bought it.” You tell him, holding back a full guffaw. “I would have been wearing it in my thumb until we got it sized.”

"Yeah, well, I figured you had fat fingers to go with that big head of yours." He jokes, smirking at his juvenile comeback.

“Don’t be a butthead.” You elbow him square in the ribs, never taking your eyes off the beautiful ring now sitting beside your wedding band. “My head isn’t as big as your big mouth.”

"You don't mind my big mouth when I get your entire cunt in it." He teases, kissing your shoulder and his thumb brushes over the ring again. "It's perfect on your hand just like I knew it would be, mi esposa."

______

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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

[CN] Victor’s Patio Date (Eng Translation)

�� Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

MC: It’s finally over!

I stretch, basking in the warm afternoon sunlight.

MC: The air-conditioning in the meeting room was so strong. I almost sneezed...

Victor: That’s why you held your breath till your face turned red?

MC: I did not...

I want to retort, but both our phones vibrate at the same time.

Curious, I tap and open the message. The sender is Ronan. The beginning of the message reads: “Inviting Mr Victor and Miss MC...”

[Note: If you don't know who Ronan is, check out Victor’s Understanding the Human World date before continuing]

Victor: To attend an appointment on the sky garden of the CR Building, a subsidiary company of LFG, after three days, at 7pm.

Victor softly reads the bottom half of the message aloud - he has received the same message.

MC: I remember that Ronan invited internationally renowned architects to build the film sets for his new movie. It should be this sky garden then? Since he has invited us, could it have something to do with the new movie?

Victor: We’ll know when we get there.

He looks at the phone in his hand indifferently. Despite his expression, it seems he already has an answer.

Three days later.

Victor and I reach the CR Building punctually.

Ronan: The two of you are here. Come, the movie preview is on the top floor.

Without much idle chat, we exchange greetings, and he enthusiastically leads us to the elevator.

MC: The shoot has already been completed? That’s pretty fast.

Ronan: Mm, the shoot this time went really smoothly. Whether in the capacity of a friend, or the biggest investor, I want the both of you to be the first few to see my movie.

MC: Why did I receive an invitation too...

Hearing my soft confusion, Ronan laughs loudly while he responds.

Ronan: When we were shooting Dévotion, it was only because of your cooperation that I could shoot a romantic and poetic Chinese wedding. Also, the movie this time was largely inspired by the two of you, so inviting you is definitely reasonable. For example, Victor revealed that, to him, you are actually...

Victor: Often impudent, and require improvement in time management. But once you slow down, your work capabilities have indeed improved quite a bit.

MC: ...why do I feel like what you told Ronan had nothing to do with my work capabilities.

I arch my eyebrows, not wanting to show signs of weakness. I toss a grimace towards Victor.

Before phrases in my mind such as “a woman’s instincts are very accurate” leave my mouth, Ronan starts laughing as he watches us from the side.

Ding--

Along with a soft ring, the elevator halts steadily at the highest level of the building. The exquisite sky garden greets my vision as the elevator doors open slowly.

Green trees display their leaves on mid-air platforms, and flowers of differing colours are scattered around, decorating the area.

The course of a river is guided by steel, flowing into a waterfall, gathering into a river, and slowly flowing around the trees and flowers.

Victor: The movie preview will start in ten minutes. How much longer do you plan to dillydally?

As though he isn’t drawn to the view at all, Victor simply holds his hand out in front of me.

MC: Yes, yes. As expected of the Mr CEO who has seen the big world - displaying an unchanging expression even after seeing such a view.

I hold onto his hand readily, and subtly lean against his side a little more.

The corners of Victor’s lips seem to curl upwards slightly. He accommodates to my footsteps, and we head to the venue together.

The movie preview is extremely successful.

Summarising the legend of the sky garden, Ronan illustrated a story of the male lead’s struggle at the end of the world, looking for an oasis.

And the climax of the story occurred at this very sky garden--

Lights and shadows merged with drifting flower petals, the last green leaf, and the last water source at the very end of the world...

Apart from the excellent narrative, the visual effects from the film alone gives one unparalleled enjoyment.

After the movie ends, I can’t help but give a standing ovation.

A few members of the audience, who were immersed in the movie like I was, send their cheers to the directors and actors.

MC: As expected of Ronan’s movie - it’s really brilliant.

Victor: Mm. It’s his usual standard.

Although Victor says this, he isn’t stingy with his applause.

MC: There’s a really immersive feeling knowing that we’re in the most beautiful scene of the movie...

Victor: Let’s go then.

Right after the words land, my palm is already encased in warmth.

Victor: To look at the garden you’ve been thinking about in your heart since just now.

MC: Okay! It’s a rare opportunity to walk into the beautiful scenery crafted by world-class directors and architects. If we don’t take a proper look, it’d be such a pity.

Victor: In that case, follow me and don’t let go of my hand again.

MC: Anyway, no matter where I am, you’ll always find me in the end. I won’t get lost.

We stand up, and I smile while holding onto his hand tightly.

He lets out a soft laugh. Maybe it’s my misperception, but the night seems to become gentler along with him.

I hear the sound of gurgling water in my ears, and red corn poppies bloom among the shadows of trees.

My fingers brush against the tips of bushes, and I feel the branches carrying the coolness of night.

MC: Sigh... it’s a shame that this place would be torn down after a while. And it’s such a beautiful set-up designed by a famous architect...

The more we stroll in the garden, the more I feel sorry for its impending disappearance.

Victor: You really can’t bear to see it gone?

MC: In the bustling city, such a garden is just too precious.

The corners of Victor’s lips lift in response to my words. He responds calmly.

Victor: The garden will be retained, and will become a cafe open to the public in the long-term.

MC: So in the future... it will also be LFG’s property?!

Victor doesn’t comment.

Victor: Once the movie preview is over, there will be a gradual adjustment of the layout and decor.

MC: ...it’s really nice to have money.

Victor: That’s your biggest takeaway after watching the preview?

MC: Of course not. I have very deep thoughts regarding this movie!

Victor arches his brows, as though waiting for my “deep thoughts” and review.

I clear my throat, temporarily tossing aside my feelings towards capitalism. In my mind, I start recalling the images from the movie.

MC: In Ronan’s movie, the lead keeps searching for an “oasis” in order to settle down and have sustenance. Every person needs his own “oasis”. It’s only when one has a foothold and a place to rest can he continually move forward.

Victor: Looks like you really watched it seriously.

MC: Which is why I’m very surprised by your decision to retain this garden. Perhaps it can become an oasis for busy people in this bustling city.

Victor: If it’s possible, that would be best.

MC: You don't think such an idea is overly vague or idealistic?

Victor: You can only move forward with some resources. This is the same for everyone. Moreover, it’s only when you have a goal in mind and know where you’re heading towards, can you walk far, and walk steadily.

I run a few steps in front, then turn around to stick out my tongue at him.

MC: Are we here to participate in the movie preview, or to do an inspection with you?

Victor: Watch where you’re going.

Slightly resigned, Victor pushes aside some branches sticking out along the path. He reaches out and pulls me back to his side.

Suddenly, a different view from the slender and delicate poppies enters my vision.

MC: Roses!

I blink. In one corner of the garden, in replacement of poppies, crimson roses bloom warmly under the moonlight.

At the side, there are even a few bean bags and a small coffee table.

In the luxurious and majestic garden, the roses, while sharing the same colour as poppies, add a different style to the courtyard.

My thoughts drift to the rose-scented town I had once taken a slow walk with him in.

[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Magnificent Date]

I can’t help but smile and ask Victor a question.

MC: Is this one of the methods to attract visitors and raise property value?

Victor: Yes.

Victor admits it matter-of-factly, but there’s a smile in his eyes.

Victor: Ronan’s team insisted on adding different understandings of this theme in order to portray a richer definition of an “oasis”. Since they asked for my opinion, I naturally gave them my view.

Standing under the warm yellow street lamp, Victor’s expression looks exceptionally tender.

Victor: From what I see, the result isn’t bad.

There is a subtle sweet aroma of roses in the air. I sit comfortably on a bean bag, asking Victor with a grin:

MC: What other adjustments will be made?

Dressed in a well-ironed suit, Victor is also half-lying on the bean bag, looking somewhat languid. The aura surrounding him has become much more gentle.

It’s as though we aren’t at a bustling movie preview, or a sky garden on the top floor of a building.

It’s just a normal weekend evening, in a small courtyard belonging to us, as we shed off the week’s worth of fatigue.

I can’t help but think of the afternoon he slept in front of me, and remember the day he had revealed an almost imperceptible state of relaxation to me.

[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Return Home Date]

Victor: You look like you have a lot of thoughts?

MC: Of course I do! I’ve been to various shooting locations, and have met mature producers with differing styles. Apart from that, I’m also a contemporary member of society with a delicate mind and good aesthetic sense. Which is why I’m clearer than anyone else about what a stressed worker needs most in terms of external care. Just look - even my house is very warm, right?

Victor: If you can change your habit of leaving things lying around, it might be considered a “warm” house.��

MC: This is called “integrating with the masses” - it’s a small beauty in life.

Recalling the earlier topic, I stand up, pulling Victor as we head to the inner area of the park.

MC: For example, I think this place could have a few more elegant seats.

I point at the hanging rattan chair underneath the flower stand.

MC: That way, visitors would be more comfortable when sitting down. Also, this path we walked on - although it looks very pretty in the movie, it’s easy to get hooked by bushes at the side. If it weren’t for your words just now, I would have definitely bumped into it. Also...

I look towards the trail lined with trees on both sides, leading towards the centre of the park.

MC: Maybe this is just my selfish thought, and has nothing to do with increasing practicality or comfort. However, if I had a choice, I would change these trees to Platanus trees.

Several strands of shock flash across Victor’s dark eyes. Then, he opens his mouth to ask in slight amusement:

Victor: Why is that so?

MC: Legend says that the Hanging Gardens was created by the king of Babylon for his wife who was suffering from homesickness.

[Note: Platanus trees were part of the Hanging Gardens. Platanus trees, also known as Oriental Plane Trees, are a frequent motif featured in Classical Chinese poetry as an embodiment of sorrowful sentiments due to its autumnal shedding of leaves]

I walk along the small trail, staring at the poppies swaying in the wind.

I wonder if that king, all those thousands of years ago, carried such a heart - wanting to give such a luxurious gift to the person he loved.

MC: No matter what others may say, I also wish to leave the best things to the person most important to me. To build an oasis within his sight and touch where he can have a peace of mind. You’ve left a corner of the camellia garden for me, so I also wish to give you a small trail lined with Platanus trees.

[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Maze date, which is available in EN]

I raise my head with a smile, not caring that my cheeks have already heated up. I observe Victor’s dark coloured eyes carefully, and tell him what’s in my heart calmly and sincerely.

Victor pauses for a moment. Apart from surprise, his eyes also contain an undercurrent of a deeper and heavier emotion.

Victor: With so many ideas, not letting you write a proposal to collaborate with the design team would be a waste of talent. When exactly did you learn to say such things?

In the end, all his emotions culminate into his usual ridicule, which is more tender than usual.

Curling his fingers, he taps me on the forehead with some affection.

MC: If you feel happy, you can just say it directly, really.

Victor: And when did you hear me say that?

MC: I felt it!

While laughing, I step onto the stairs, looking at the blooming poppy flowerbed.

The flowerbed, which is suspended in mid-air, is the highest point of the garden. It is held up firmly by chains above the pool.

MC: Do you feel like I’m especially thoughtful and especially cute right now?

Victor: I only feel that you’re especially childish.

While Victor says this, he walks up to the stairs and holds onto my hand.

Victor: And that you’re truly a dummy.

It is only when he draws nearer that I can clearly see the upward curve of his lips.

Apart from the faraway lights and the water under us, his eyes also reflect my brilliantly smiling face.

The flowerbed sways back and forth in small motions.

Sitting here, I not only have a panoramic view of the garden, but can also overlook the entirety of Loveland City.

In the distance, the city lights are scattered around, artificial light sources forming another galaxy on earth.

MC: Victor, you once said that you would look at Loveland City from a height whenever you’re in a bad mood. I think I can understand something I didn’t think of before!

Victor: What do you understand this time?

MC: This garden on the top level of the building, where you can overlook Loveland City, is perhaps your oasis. Now that I think about it, everything I said just now was unnecessary, right?

Recalling my eloquent suggestions to Victor earlier, I start feeling slightly embarrassed.

Victor: Looks like you still don’t know anything.

MC: Tell me - what should I know then?

Supporting myself on the flowerbed with one hand, I grin, turning around to ask him.

The suspended flowerbed sways violently from my sudden movement. Only then do I remember that there are only a few fulcrums holding up the flower bed.

With an unstable footing, I subconsciously reach out to clutch onto Victor, trying to maintain my balance. However, I still fall against the flower bed, hurting my shoulder blade.

Victor: You’re being impatient again.

[Note: There isn’t a direct translation of the phrase used here, 毛毛躁躁 (”mao mao zao zao”), but it conveys the idea of doing things hurriedly and inattentively]

His voice resounds very close to me. I open my eyes, and directly meet his line of sight.

Because of my sudden movement, Victor has also been pulled towards me.

One of his hands is wrapped around the back of my head, preventing me from hitting it. Another hand is at my ear, holding me steady.

Right now, this action seems to be imprisoning me between the fresh flowers and himself.

MC: S...sorry, I’ll pay more attention next time...

I stammer, my heart rate speeding up.

Victor: You said this the last time as well.

The heat from summer has not fully dissipated. Humidity lingers in the air.

The poppies in the garden bloom quietly, and the night is warm. It’s as though everything I see and feel have become gentle.

Even Victor’s eyes and outline grow blurry from the light and shadows, encasing him in a layer of tenderness.

Our sudden proximity causes my heart rate to accelerate, and it feels like my thoughts have been stuck in place.

I avert my gaze, slightly guilty. I raise my palm to put some distance between us.

MC: We’re about done with the viewing. The dinner is about to begin, so we should head down... I remember it’s one level below?

Victor: ...do you know that your ability to change the topic is very poor.

Victor sighs softly, then gently shifts his hand away from the back of my head.

When the warmth belonging to him vanishes, a sense of longing floods my heart.

It’s as though I have awakened from a charming dream surrounded by warm currents, returning to reality once again.

But in the next second, the warmth I’m most familiar with envelops my wrist.

Looking into his dark eyes, I think I must have truly misunderstood.

Whether it’s the Babylonian king from thousands of years ago, or any other ordinary person, the thing people truly want isn’t the view from their memory. It’s the person they want to share the view with.

Victor: I’m going to answer your question from just now. Listen carefully.

Victor: The words you said are not unnecessary.

Victor: And I am indeed very happy.

Victor shifts upwards, encircling me in front of him again.

He is so close that the entire world seems to be condensed into his pair of eyes.

The fountain spurts at regular intervals, shattering the calm of the water. Water vapour floating in the air refracts light, caging us in a colourful curtain of light.

Victor: Just now, someone eloquently mentioned wanting to build an oasis within my sight and touch. And now you’re so anxious - where do you want to run off to?

Perhaps the temperature of the evening is overly gentle, and the light from the water is too fine. I’m unable to see what emotions lie in Victor’s eyes.

As the distance between us closes, I can clearly see every gentle quiver of his eyelashes, and can feel the heat from every lingering breath from our noses.

His lips move slightly, as though wanting to say something to me.

Before he can speak, the fountain spurts again. This time, the cool water happens to spray onto us.

MC: Ah...

I want to hurriedly straighten up and dry Victor, but a gentle yet irresistible pressure pushes me back down.

The water columns from the fountain change, forming into different heights and shapes. Scattered droplets of water patter on us like light rain.

Victor’s hair, which has always been tidied meticulously, droops slightly because of the water droplets.

The slender poppies beside us sway slightly. Water vapour condenses on the flower petals, dripping down along the body of the flower.

Victor: No need to care about that. Having you here is enough.

His slightly hoarse voice brushes against my ear along with his breath. It circles past the nape of my neck, evoking a certain numbness.

Victor’s body temperature continuously travels to my wrist, entering my heart.

Victor: My “oasis”... has already belonged to me since a very long time ago.

🌹

Phone Call: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor

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multifandomwriter56 · 4 years ago

Text

A Corn Labyrinth for the Soul

A/N: Day 8 of 31 Days of Halloween

Word Prompt: Corn Maze

Characters: Tony Stark, Pepper Potts (Stark), Morgan Stark

Requested By: Anon

Warnings: spoilers for Avengers: IW, angst, talks about losing family, this is set between IW and Endgame, language

Word Count: 1,032

"Dad, hurry up! We can't wait any longer!" Y/n shouts from outside their father's lab, a giggling Morgan beside them.

"I'm coming!"

Y/n looks down at their sister. "He's lying."

Morgan nods in agreement.

At the exact same time, the two siblings turn on their heels and shout, "Mom!" getting the reaction they were hoping for.

"Alright rugrats, I'm ready." Tony exclaims as he opens the door.

The siblings high five in victory.

The drive to the county corn maze takes about a half hour, and the two mini Starks are ready.

Some people recognize the famous family, but every since Thanos wiped out half the universe, people rarely approach the Iron Man and ask for photos and autographs.

A young mom does approach them as they make their way to the small, waiting line.

“Thank you, Mr Stark for hosting this festival. My two boys really needed a distraction. Halloween was their sister’s favorite holiday. She loved scaring her brothers.”

The family silently watches the mom break down and pull herself back together, all in a span of five seconds. Sadly, this has become normal for most people; for those who’ve lost loved ones.

“You can thank my eldest.” Tony gestures to Y/n before continuing. “It was their idea, I just have the money.” He tries to lighten the mood and the young lady huffs a genuine laugh, but that’s all she has the strength for.

Y/n just smiles at the woman when her gaze lands on them. Sometimes being one of the rare families that were able to stick together after Thanos can be a curse. “I hope your sons have fun. It took awhile to design the maze to make it fun for kids but also challenging.”

“You designed this?”

“Yes ma’am. Don’t worry, I’m not participating. I want everyone to have a chance to win. I’m going to supervise my sister and let her do all the work.”

“Hey!” Morgan protests, but there’s a smile on her face.

All three adults chuckle at the now bickering siblings.

The woman nods her head, one last “thank you” escaping her lips before she heads to the front of the line where her boys are waiting.

Tony wraps an arm around his eldest, kissing the side of their head. “I’m so proud of you.”

Pepper gently cups their cheek. “We both are.”

Y/n’s face warms at the attention. “Thanks.”

They don’t have to wait long before they make their way to the front. Y/n signs Morgan’s name on the sign-in paper for those competing to find the exit in the fastest time.

The lady at the table gives Morgan a time watch. “I will start the timer once you tell me you’re ready.”

Morgan looks up at Y/n who nods. “Ready.”

The woman pushes the start button. “Good luck!”

Morgan, of course, takes off into the corn maze, forcing Y/n to pick up speed.

“Be careful!” Pepper calls out.

“We will!” Y/n assures. “See you on the other side!”

Pepper sighs in relief when Y/n takes Morgan’s hand in their own. She looks to her husband and instantly rolls her eyes. “They’re going to be fine, Tony.”

“I know they are.” He tells his wife, the confidence he thought he was showing is not there.

Instead of reassuring him for the umpteenth time. Pepper pulls Tony into the maze. “We better get started if we don’t want them to wait too long for us to find the end.”

“Morgan! Morgan, slow down!” Y/n shouts as they try to catch up to their sibling. They figured she would be worn out by now and finally start walking instead of running through the towers of corn.

“Y/n, which way?” The four year old asks when she comes to a fork.

The eldest Stark sibling tsks. “We agreed, Morgan. I’m not helping you win. You’re going to do this all on your own.”

The young girl pouts for a moment before smirking when an idea forms. “If I tell you to go one way, will you tell me if it dies?”

“You mean if it’s a dead end?” Morgan nods. “Fine, but I’ll only go in the direction you tell me to.”

Morgan points to the far right lane. Barely containing their smirk, Y/n nods and heads in that direction.

“Stay here till I get back. It won’t take me long.” They promise.

They almost stop halfway, knowing it’s a dead end; but remembering everyone else would have to go a few feet more to know, they continue walking.

They only take a couple of more steps when they hear moaning. What the hell?

Stretching their neck as far as possible so they can see past the slight curve, Y/n regrets the action as soon as they do it. “Oh my Thor!”

“Y/n?” Pepper calls as she shoves Tony away from her face.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Where’s Morgan?” Tony asks.

“At the beginning of the fork. Please tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.” Y/n begs as they finally face their parents.

Tony’s smirking proudly while Pepper’s face is turning red from embarrassment. Pepper may not be Y/n’s biological mom, but she’s still their mom.

“We were only planning on going to second base.” Tony admits.

“DAD! TMI!” Y/n shouts while Pepper smacks him on the arm.

“Okay, I’m going to go back to Morgan, tell her this was a dead end, and pretend this never happened.”

“Oh good, that means we can pretend you never interrupted us.”

“Tony!” Pepper tries to be firm, but her giggles replace the firmness in her tone.

Y/n rolls their eyes, pretending they hated every second of it; but in all honesty, their happy their parents can act like high schoolers, even if it’s just for a few moments.

Morgan wasn’t the first kid out of the maze, but she made up for her lost in the other contests.

Overall, Y/n would have to say it was a good day.

Even if they can’t unseen the image of their parents sucking on each other’s faces.

Forevers: @beautycinders @desiredposion @theseakrakence @simonsbluee

#karissa's 31 days of halloween #day 8 #tony stark x platonic!reader #pepper potts x platonic!reader #gendernetural!reader #morgan stark #tony stark #pepper potts #marvel #mcu

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fandammit · 5 years ago

Text

Look how long this love can hold its breath (3/?)

Alright, I officially do not know how long this is going to be. I had a plan at one point...like 4 thousand words ago. I have an ending in mind, now it’s just about writing Ben and Devi to get there in a way that makes sense. Strap in, folks -- and thanks for reading!

Part 1 || Part 2 || On Ao3

*******

“Is Shira, like, weirded out or anything that I’m staying over here?”

It’s the third night of Devi living with him, which is definitely a sentence he never in his life thought he’d say. They’re sitting across the table from each other working on their pre-cal homework, snacks strewn across the space between them.

He glances up to see her chewing on her lip, waiting for his answer. For some reason, he doesn’t know quite how to say that the two of them aren’t together any more, so he just shrugs and looks away from her.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She sighs heavily and he hears her lean back against the chair.

“She’s pissed, huh.” She sounds genuinely upset, and he looks up and sees her chewing on the corner of her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry, Ben, I didn’t think about how she might feel about this.” She clears her throat. “I mean, did you tell her that, like, you and me, you know…” She gestures between them and shrugs.

It takes everything within him not to ask what she means by that. He’s trying to be normal, to pretend like he never tried to kiss her -- twice! -- to act like he never wanted to.

He thinks if things were like they used to be, he’d make some snide comment about how she should be so lucky to be here with him. If things were like it used to be, his reply would be designed to remind her that he was better than her, manufactured to make her feel small.

But if things were like they used to be, they’d never be in this position in the first place. He isn’t sure of a lot lately, but he’s sure that he doesn’t want them to go back to things as they used to be.

So he decides to go for a new normal.

“We, uh --.” He scratches the back of his head, then gives her a small, lopsided smile. “We broke up.”

“Oh.” She blinks rapidly, then leans forward with a sympathetic slant to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Ben.”

And the thing is, she does sound genuinely sorry about it, and for some reason that makes him feel more than the actual breakup did.

He shrugs again.

“It’s no big deal.”

She tilts her head at him as though trying to figure out what he might really mean. But the truth is, that’s really what he means.

“I mean, you guys were together a while.”

He nods.

“We were but --.” He taps his fingers on the table, trying to put it in a way that doesn’t make both of them sound callous and shallow, even though that’s exactly what they are. “I think we liked the idea of one another more than who the other person actually was.”

It’s the softest way he can put the reality that Shira really only liked him for his money, and he mostly liked her for the simple fact that it meant that someone wanted him.

“Huh.” She sits back in her chair and looks at him. “That’s deep, dude.”

“Yeah, well, you should know by now that I have stores of wisdom beyond your comprehension, David,” he drawls out, though it’s less cutting than it once would have been.

She rolls her eyes at him, but that motion, too, isn't as sharp as it used to be.

*******

“Jesus, Kevin McAllister’s kind of homicidal.”

It's Friday night and they’re only halfway through her very first showing of Home Alone, but he can tell by the tone of her voice that that’s the conclusion she’s come up with for the entire film.

“I mean, it’s a fun 90’s children's film that I don’t think we’re meant to take as having any bearing on real life,” he replies dryly. “But, yeah, he absolutely is.”

She’s curled up on the seat next to him in the screening room, her feet tucked in under her and a blanket draped across her legs.

They’re sitting in the exact same two seats they sat in during his party when he tried to kiss her, a fact that seems to bother her not at all and that he can’t get out of his mind for more than two minutes at a time.

Which means he’s spent a good duration of the movie being very aware of the placement of his arms, the movement of his limbs, the slant of his body. He’s also tried to make sure he hasn’t spent too much time looking at her, though that backfires when she asks why he keeps looking just past her right shoulder every time she talks.

He’s at least grateful that she’s somehow never seen Home Alone, because it means she hasn’t completely picked up on how incredibly weird he’s being.

“I mean, these guys should’ve been dead like, ten times over with all the shit he’s put them through.”

“Again -- children’s movie.” He grimaces as they watch Marv’s foot hover above a protruding nail on the stairs, then turns and faces Devi so he doesn’t have to see it. “You know, there was an article a few years back that theorized that Kevin McAllister grew up to be the villain for all the Saw movies.”

Her eyes go comically wide.

“Dude! I can totally see that.”

He takes out his phone and starts googling the article so that he can send it to her.

“I mean, I’ve never seen any of the Saw movies, but I know enough about them generally to think that it’s a pretty good theory.”

He feels Devi clamp onto his arm with her hand.

“Ben, how have you never seen any of the Saw movies?”

He looks down at where her hand is resting on his arm, then back up at her. Tries to focus on the incredulous look on her face rather than the warm pinpricks of her fingertips settling on his skin.

“I -- uh. Um. Well, I --.”

Oh dear God, he is such a mess.

“Are you trying to think of some excuse for why you haven’t seen a modern horror classic like Saw?” She says with a smirk, then (blissfully? unfortunately?) lifts her hand to cross her arms in front of her chest. “I can’t believe you made fun of me for not seeing Home Alone when you haven’t seen Saw.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh and turns into a scoff at the last moment.

“I’m not much of a horror movie guy.” He clears his throat. “Besides, Home Alone is a classic.”

“Saw is a classic!”

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not sure that a movie about someone sawing off one of his own limbs could be considered a classic.” He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Or, you know, even good.”

Devi gives him an incredulous look.

“Uh, I believe 127 Hours was nominated for like six Academy Awards, Ben.”

“Yeah, I walked right into that one.” He turns to face her. “But, 127 Hours was an inspiring story of survival, humanity and hope. Saw is the story of some guy making people complete stupid tasks because he thinks it’ll teach them something. It’s basically a demented version of Mr. Shapiro’s class.”

Devi lets out a loud shout of laughter, and he feels a pleased grin spread across his face.

“You know what, I love that description so much I won’t even argue with you.”

“Finally ready to admit that I’m your intellectual superior?”

She rolls her eyes.

“You wish.” She gestures at the screen. “But no, you’re making me miss the movie.”

She settles back into the chair and turns to face the screen. They watch the last half hour in comfortable silence, and when it’s over, Devi turns to him.

“So one of your favorite childhood movies is about an 8 year old who terrorizes two grown men and probably gave them both traumatic brain injuries before sending them to jail?”

He huffs a small laugh.

“I think it was probably more getting to see the story of a kid being so important to his parents they flew home from Paris to be with him. Like, gee, wonder what that must be like.” The last part is as bitter as he’s let himself feel lately -- and definitely more bitter than he’s let himself say out loud. He regrets it when he glances over at Devi and sees her giving him a sympathetic look. It seems selfish and unfair to complain about his parents given what she’s been through, so he gives her a half-smile and a shrug. “It’s fine, Devi.”

She shakes her head.

“It isn’t, but we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.” She gestures towards the screen. “So, given that you picked the first movie, the next movie choice should be mine.” She turns back to him and grins. “And my choice is Saw.”

He scoffs, but only to cover up the smile that is creeping up on him.

“So we’re doing a marathon now?”

“Two movies isn’t a marathon, Ben, it’s a double feature.” She stands up to grab the bowl of kettle corn she put on the floor earlier and puts it back on her lap. “I mean, really it’s like we’re watching the spiritual sequel to your favorite childhood movie, so I’m actually being pretty generous with my movie choice.”

“Wow, truly magnanimous of you, David. I’m so grateful.”

“You’re welcome,” she says without a trace of irony, then gestures for him to pick up the iPad next to him so that he can start looking for the film. “And I know you’re used to watching movies in this dope setup, but I’m not, so we’re going to revel in the dopeness of it until I get tired of it, which will probably be never.”

They don’t own Saw because no one in his family would ever want to watch it, so he clicks over to their Amazon account to buy it.

“I actually don’t use this room all that much. It isn’t as fun by yourself, so, this is --.” He glances over at her and shrugs. “It’s nice.” She gives him a smile that might be described as soft, if he were doing such a thing as cataloging her smiles. He turns his attention back to the iPad screen before he can do anything stupid like tell her how pretty her smile is, and scrolls through the list. “There are eight Saw movies?” He says incredulously. “How are there eight Saw movies?”

Devi shrugs.

“They’re cheap to make and people keep watching them, hoping any one of them will be as good as the first one.” She takes a sip of her soda. “Spoiler alert, that hope remains unfulfilled.”

“Wow, you’re really doing a great job at selling me this franchise.”

“Hey,” she says, slapping him with the back of her hand. “I wasn’t trying to sell you the franchise, just the first movie.” She moves the popcorn bowl between them and settles back into her chair. “Now shut up and get ready to see the type of person Kevin McAllister became when he grew up.”

*******

They end up watching all of Paddington 2 (his choice, to scrub the horrifying but admittedly -- and surprisingly -- alright Saw from his memory) and Cabin in the Woods (Devi’s choice, as an example of -- in her words -- a legit awesome horror film, to which he finds himself agreeing).

By the time they finish it’s nearly 3 A.M., and they’ve eaten their way through two huge bowls of kettle corn, an entire tub of Red Vines, and a mixed bag of mini candy bars.

“You wanna choose another movie?” Devi asks, even though she’s all curled up in the comfortable plush of the chair with her head pillowed on her arms.

“So I can sit here and watch it alone while you snore next to me?” He turns off the screen and climbs out of the chair, stretching his arms over his head. “C’mon.”

“You go,” Devi mutters, her eyes now closed. “I’m comfortable here.”

He gives a small chuckle.

“Yeah, well, you won’t be when you wake up in a few hours with a sore neck and numb feet.”

“Nuh uh,” she counters as she buries her face further into her arms. “I’m smaller than you, I can fit.”

“Devi, I know from experience that these chairs are deceptively comfortable now, but it’s killer for your back and neck.” He crouches down and attempts to tug the blanket off of her. “Besides, you’re not really that much smaller than me.”

Devi gives a tired smile, and he has to twist his hand into the blanket to keep himself from doing something truly idiotic like brush away the stray curl that’s fallen across her face.

“At dinner one night my mom asked why I let you rile me up so much when you’re like 5’2.”

She huffs a laugh, and he finds it so immediately and absurdly appealing that he can’t even find it in himself to be all that insulted.

“First of all,” he starts, once again trying to pull the blanket from her and getting a weary, half-assed scowl in return for his trouble. “I’m 5’5. Secondly, I’m glad you just admitted that you’re always talking about me at the dinner table. Not that I didn’t already know that you’re obsessed with me, but it’s nice to hear it straight from you.”

She opens one eye just so she can roll it at him.

“You’re the worst, Ben Gross.”

“I know you’re just saying that because I’m trying to get you out of this chair.”

She groans and throws the blanket off of her, then lifts her head off her arms and sits up.

“But why make them so comfortable if they aren’t even good to sleep in?”

“Specifically to torture you, obviously.”

“Hrmph, you would.” Her eyes are half closed again, and she’s leaning dangerously to the side. He’s worried that she’s going to curl back up in the chair again, but then she lifts her arms out in front of her.

“Are you...doing your best zombie impression?”

She scowls at him -- or she tries to, at least. Her eyes are closed and it’s like her face is too tired to dedicate itself to the expression, so the result is much less menacing than it is adorable. He’s glad she can’t see him right now because he’s almost sure the look on his face would give it all away.

“Help me up, you dick,” she says, though there isn’t any heat in the words.

“Oh well, geez, since you asked so nicely.”

She smiles sweetly at him, though her eyes are still closed.

“Help me up please, you dick.”

He huffs a laugh and hopes it sounds casual, which is how he should feel, instead of slightly panicked, which is how he actually feels.

He reaches down to grab both her hands in his and pulls her up. His brain is yelling at him to let go of her immediately, but his traitorous hands aren’t listening, and he just keeps them wrapped around hers as she sways unsteadily on her feet.

“Dunno why I’m so tired,” she mumbles, her head falling forward with her eyes still closed. Her face is half hidden by the wild mass of her hair and he feels his fingers twitch at the thought of gently tucking a wayward strand behind her ear. “Must be ‘cuz your movie commentary is so boring.”

He makes a noise that he intends to be a laugh, but it just comes out a breathy sigh instead. His hands are still loosely wrapped around hers, and she’s standing so close to him that a stray curl brushes across the edge of his chin every time she breathes.

“Yes, that must be the reason,” he murmurs, because speaking quietly seems like the only way to hide how he’s feeling right now. “Not the fact that it’s 3 in the morning, we just watched four movies in a row or you’ve been sleeping in a bed that you aren’t used to.”

“The bed’s comfortable,” she says, her words slurred with sleep. She lifts her head at him with her eyes closed and wrinkles her nose as she smiles, then gently tips forward and rests her forehead on his shoulder.

He freezes, and it takes all of the self control he’s ever possessed to not wrap his arms around her shoulders, rest his cheek against the top of her head and just breath the moment in. He thinks he might want that more than he’s ever wanted anything in his entire life, and it feels particularly cruel of the universe to grant him that knowledge at the very same moment he has to fight to not have it.

Devi makes a motion that he can really only describe as nuzzling into his shoulder, which causes him to take a sharp intake of breath and then just...does not breath for the next half minute. He’s so acutely aware of his senses -- the softness of her palms against his fingertips, the scent of her lavender shampoo, the gentle slope of her cheek pressed against his chest -- that for one wild moment he seriously entertains the possibility that he’s developed superpowers.

“You’re more comfortable than you look,” she mumbles, the words muffled because she’s half saying them into his shirt. He thinks she must truly be on the verge of sleep to have said it at all and not immediately recoil in disgust at the words.

If he were not so focused on keeping his breath calm and even, on telling his arms to stay glued to either side of him, and devoting too much energy to keeping his fingers from interlacing with hers, he would say something quippy and casual about how there’s more to him than meets the eye, or gently teasing about the fact that she so clearly thinks about how comfortable he might look in the first place.

But he doesn’t have the focus or the will to be clever, and there’s nothing casual about what his heart is doing right now, so instead he just makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and grits his teeth.

He takes a deep breath in and out again, slowly bringing the crashing wave of his feelings to a somewhat manageable level, then forces himself to let go of her hands.

He flexes his fingers a few times, then reaches up and sets his hands gently on her shoulders and takes a step back from her, the space between them allowing him to clear his head a bit.

Her head lolls forward against air, causing her to frown and flutter her eyes open momentarily.

“As much as I’d like to see you try to sleep standing up, I don’t think it’s humanly possible,” he says, smiling at her when she opens her eyes and gives him a bleary stare.

“You don’t know that,” she replies, opening and closing her eyes a few times to try and inject wakefulness into them. “I bet I could.”

He shrugs.

“Well, I bet you’d sleep better in a bed.”

She heaves a deep sigh, then gives him an inexplicable and lazy salute and a sleepy smile.

“See you in the morning, Ben.”

“Good night, Devi.”

#never have i ever #ben x devi #devi x ben #my fic #there needs to be more fic about the period when she stayed at his house #that's such a lush scenario for fic people!

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brywrites · 4 years ago

Note

Omg you made me so happy with that story of Eliza, now I know this is a stretch but can we get a update on Halloween where you left off with them going trick or treating with everyone🥺🙈 ?

Ask and you shall receive, anon! I really never get tired of writing Spencer and Bianca, and I really didn’t give myself the space to explore what their lives as parents would look like so it was fun to to take that a little further with this one! Here’s just some pure domestic Halloween fluff.

----

They arrived at JJ’s house just as the sun was beginning to paint the autumn sky golden. Before the door had even opened, they could hear Henry shout, “Mom! They’re here!” Seconds later it swung open, and Henry, dressed in red, white, and blue, greeted them with a grin. “Hi Uncle Spence! Hi Aunt Bianca!” He gave each of them a quick hug. “Wow, you brought a tiger!”

“It’s me!” Eliza said, giggling. Henry pretended to be shocked as she threw her arms around them.

“Let me guess… Captain America, right?” Spencer asked as they stepped inside.

“Yeah, he’s my favorite superhero!” Henry’s excitement faltered for a moment and he straightened up a little taller. “I mean, I know I’m kind of old to go trick-or-treating, but I promised Michael I’d come.”

“Henry, if I have taught you anything you should know by now that you’re never too old for Halloween,” Spencer replied.

His words brought a smile back to Henry’s face and he said, “Wait till you see my shield! I painted it all by myself!”

The inside of the LaMontagne-Jareau househould was already bustling. JJ, dressed as Black Widow, was finishing Michael’s Hulk-green face paint. Hotch and Jack had moved back to the DC area two years earlier, and Garcia was excitedly talking to Jack and his girlfriend Mabel. The two teens had donned the costumes of Ben Solo and Rey from Star Wars, while the BAU’s former tech wizard wore a bright pink dress and golden crown as Princess Peach. Hotch and Beth, masquerading as Han Solo and Princess Leia, were being regaled by one of Rossi’s stories while Krystall laughed. Rossi’s suit and tie didn’t quite make sense as a costume until Bianca realized that Krystall’s white dress and curled hair made her Marilyn Monroe, and Rossi must have been JFK.

“It’s about time you showed up Pretty Boy!” Morgan quickly cut through the room to make his way to them, ruffling Spencer’s hair. “And my favorite little lady,” he said, embracing Bianca. Then squatting down to Eliza’s height, “And littlest lady, too, Miss Eliza Lou!”

He lifted Elizabeth up into his arms. “Why do you have hair Uncle Derek?” she asked, pointing to Morgan’s head.

“Because zombie Michael Jackson has hair in the “Thriller” music video,” he replied, as though that context meant anything to a five year old. “And that’s who I’m dressed as for Halloween.”

“You look funny with hair,” the little girl replied.

Morgan put his free hand over his chest, and feigned melodramatic offense. “Oh, ouch! You wound me, Eliza Lou!” Eliza giggled as her godfather set her back on the ground. “Now what exactly are you two supposed to be?” he asked, gesturing between Spencer and Bianca.

Spencer wore a red zippered sweater with a tie and blue Converse, while Bianca had on a floral pink 70’s style prairie dress. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood,” Spencer replied.

When Morgan just raised an eyebrow, Bianca said, “Mr. Rogers and Lady Aberlin, from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood!”

“You see,” Reid explained, “Elizabeth had her heart set on being a tiger, so we tried to come up with costumes that could go along with it. And Fred Rogers used a number of puppets on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood to help act out situations of learning and vulnerability in healthy ways, one of which was Daniel Striped Tiger who was the most recognizable from the show. It’s actually funny, the tiger puppet was a gift to Mr. Rogers the night before the very first episode was s-”

“I get it,” Morgan said, holding up a hand. “I’ll read the Wikipedia article later, I promise.”

“Oh come on now, babe, I think it’s cute.” Savannah appeared beside her husband, linking her arm with his. “It’s good to see you two.” She still wore nurse’s scrubs and had a stethoscope around her neck.

“Did you just come from work?” Bianca asked. Savannah and Morgan’s daughter, Ainslie, had just turned one and Savannah had gone back to full-time shifts at the hospital.

Savannah laughed, shaking her head. “Thank god, no. Hank wanted to be a zombie, so Derek came up with the idea of going as “Thriller” MJ to match. I figured if it’s the zombie apocalypse in our household, I might as well be the nurse on the frontlines trying to fight them off.”

“Uh oh,” Morgan said. “I don’t know how long you’ll last out there. The zombies are pretty handsome, I hear.” He kissed her cheek as she rolled her eyes. Turning back to the Reids, he asked, “So are we ready to take on trick or treating?”

Bianca winked. “Well Spencer here was born ready, and I think that after seven Halloweens together I’ve learned a thing or two.” The four of them had been chosen as the designated chaperones for the kid’s festivities while the rest of the adults finished up a Halloween feast at the house. Once all the kids were accounted for and everyone had a pillowcase in hand, they set out into the DC streets in search of spooks and sweets.

Spencer’s boundless enthusiasm was contagious, spreading even to Jack who seemed torn between being excited about Halloween and trying to look cool in front of Mabel. But once it became clear Mabel was into the scary stories Spencer told while they walked, Hotch’s son visibly relaxed. It was a good group of kids – at every house Henry, Jack, and Mabel made sure that Michael, Hank, and Eliza got candy first, and a chorus of thank you!s followed them from doorstep to doorstep.

Spencer’s delight for the present was carrying over to the future. “When she’s a little older,” he was saying, “we can go to a haunted house or two. Maybe even a haunted corn maze. And we can watch a midnight scary movie screening and she’ll be able to carve her own pumpkins!” Bianca laughed and he glanced her way, bashful. “What?”

“I just love seeing you excited about this,” she said. His eyes always lit up in a way that made her heart skip a beat after all this time. “And thinking about all the holidays we’re going to have together and how we’ll get to make all these new traditions as she grows up.”

Spencer stopped suddenly on the sidewalk and before she could react he was hugging her close. The fabric of his sweater was soft against her cheek. “What was that for?” she asked him, looking up, her arms still wrapped around his waist.

“I wouldn’t be doing any of this without you,” he said. “I would probably still be at the BAU. I wouldn’t have anything worth leaving for. I wouldn’t have someone I get excited about growing old with. But I have a home because I have you. I have a home and someone who will plan obscure Halloween costumes with me and I have a daughter and it’s all because I fell in love with you. Because you loved me.”

“And because you loved me,” she echoed. She wouldn’t have wanted it with anyone else. He was the only person who made her feel safe enough to trust him with every part of her. He made her feel brave enough to take on the world and to start a family. When nothing else made sense, he was there to anchor her with a warm embrace and all the words she needed to hear and promises to stay. He knew her better than she knew herself. Bianca stood on her toes to kiss him sweetly, not caring that there were people all around them.

“When you two are done being all lovey-dovey,” Morgan called, “we’ve still got one more block to hit.”

“Lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey!” Eliza sang, skipping beside them. Spencer smiled and kissed Bianca’s forehead as he interlaced his fingers through hers with one hand and reached down to hold their daughter’s hand with the other. When the final houses had been visited, they descended upon the LaMontagne-Jareau household once more, with pillowcases full of candy.

During their absence, more familiar faces had appeared at the house. Prentiss and Mendoza were drinking wine with Rossi in the living room and Luke, dressed as Mario, had his arm around Penelope while they talked with three of the newer BAU members.

“Aunt Alex!” Eliza’s bag of candy was temporarily forgotten as she ran to hug Alex Blake who was at the kitchen table with JJ, Will, and her husband James.

“Why Elizabeth,” she said, “aren’t you the most ferocious tiger I’ve ever seen?”

“I’ve been practicing!” Eliza replied. She furrowed her eyebrows and held her hands up by her face like claws. “Rarr!” Her godmother gave her around of applause for her performance, happily doting on her while everyone gathered around the table for dinner.

It was warm and inviting in the living room, feeling every bit like a cheerful Thanksgiving dinner except for the costumes and the spooky decorations. There was plenty to be discussed, whether it was Emily’s new position as Director of the Bureau or the book Rossi and Matt had just published. The Simmons clan were the only ones absent, their children having made plans already to spend Halloween with their friends in their own neighborhood. Bianca felt right at home among the people who had come to feel as much her family as they were Spencer’s. She swapped stories of international travels with Alex and James and was delighted to talk to Tara and her girlfriend, Elena. The two women were dressed as Cinderella and Prince Charming, and she had to admit that Tara could certainly pull off a suit. When Penelope begged Morgan for a chance to babysit Hank and Ainslie soon and Rossi said, “You know you could just have some of your own,” she and Luke both turned red.

“Hey now,” Luke said. “We’re just trying to get through the wedding first, okay?”

“Yeah, you never know, I could still change my mind,” Garcia teased, elbowing her fiancé.

“You say that at least once a month,” Luke laughed. “But I don’t think we can get our deposit back on the venue at this point, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

There was enough food and to go around, and a generous amount of libations courtesy of David Rossi. Bianca’s contribution was an array of desserts – pumpkin cheesecake, salted caramel brownies, and chocolate cupcakes with vampire fangs and raspberry filling – that were immediate hits, and Spencer’s contribution was agreeing not to consume them before the party. After dinner the kids went down to the basement to watch Hocus Pocus, Jack and Henry promising they’d look after everyone, while the adults settled into the living room.

“Eliza,” Bianca called. “How about you pick out a few pieces of candy for now, and we’ll keep the rest up here so you can have some later, okay?” The little girl was about to follow her cousins downstairs with her whole bag of sugary treasures. “If you eat too much candy at once you’ll get a bellyache.”

Eliza considered this, then nodded. “Okay, mama.” She dug through the pillowcase, choosing a few treats, then handed the bag back to her mother asking, “But how come daddy gets to?” She pointed to Spencer who sat on the floor of the living room, gorging himself on a plate of sweets. He looked up sheepishly, caught red-handed about to take a bite of oversized brownie.

“It’s because I’m old enough to anticipate the consequences of my actions,” he said. “I know when to stop before I feel sick.”

“You go have fun with your cousins, okay?” Bianca said, giving her daughter a quick hug before watching the tail of the tiger costume vanish the stairs. She sat down next to Spencer, shaking her head. “You’re such a bad liar,” she laughed. “You’ll be complaining all night that you feel awful.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I just can’t help myself around something sweet.” Spencer put his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap, leaning in to kiss her. “See?”

She smiled. “You’re lucky, Mr. Rogers, that I like you just the way you are. Insatiable sweet tooth and all.”

Spencer grinned. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.” Mimicking the song from the old children’s show, he sang, “Would you be mine? Could you be mine?”

“You know what my answer is,” she said. She let her head fall against his shoulder. Nestled close in his embrace, she sat listening to the BAU recount stories of the glory days and valiant acts of the past. Spencer traced circles on the back of her hand, resting his cheek against the top of her head with a sigh of contentment, and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was – that there was a relief in knowing that the monsters were in only in their yesterdays and nightmares. That there was no danger waiting around the corner for him anymore. Nothing to steal him away too soon. There were endless tomorrows stretching out ahead of them, but for now they could reminisce with the family that had been built by that shared past. And Bianca could think of few sweeter treats than that.

#tkow #the keeping of words

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dougmeet · 4 years ago

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flynt (13) hustler (5) died (4) trump (4) million (3) doing (3) insurance (3) larry (3) seniors (3) ditching (3)

In 2017, Flynt offered a $10 million reward for evidence that would lead to Trump’s impeachment, and in 2019, Larry Flynt Publications sent a Christmas card to some Republican congressional members that showed Trump lying dead in a pool of blood, with the killer saying: “I just shot Donald Trump on Fifth Avenue and no one assassinated me” — a reference to Trump’s boast that he could commit such a killing and wouldn’t lose votes.

Eggleston Works è una società di cui avevo sentito parlare molto tempo prima che io abbia mai avuto la possibilità di assaggiare le loro merci. Situato a Memphis, nel Tennessee, La loro prima offerta era un oratore che sembrava un tavolo finale, ma alla fine non ha avuto il successo come avevano sperato. Alla fine del 1996, l'Andra fu rilasciato.

Dr. Seuss Enterprises Will Shelve 6 Books, Citing 'Hurtful' Portrayals

no more Seuss or WAP for my kid

CSS Grid CSS Grid simplifies existing layout patterns

and

adds new possibilities for graphic design.

It’s a layout framework — without the framework

Fixed or FlexibleYou can create a grid with fixed track sizes or with flexible sizes using percentages or the new

fr fractional unit

Place & Align

You can place items at precise locations on the grid independent of their HTML source order. Alignment features control how items align when placed into a grid area, and also how the whole grid is aligned.

In our urban and suburban houses what should we do without cats? In our sitting or bedrooms, our libraries, in our kitchens and storerooms, our farms, barns, and dockyards, in our docks, our granaries, our ships, and our wharves, in our corn markets, meat markets, and other places too numerous to mention, how useful they are! In our ships, however, the rats oft set them at defiance; still they are of great service. How wonderfully patient is the cat when watching for rats or mice, awaiting their egress from their place of refuge or that which is their home! How well Shakespeare in Pericles, Act iii., describes this keen attention of the cat to its natural pursuit! A slight rustle, and the fugitive comes forth; a quick, sharp, resolute motion, and the cat has proved its usefulness. Let any one have a plague of rats and mice, as I once had, and let them be delivered therefrom by cats, as I was, and they will have a lasting and kind regard for them.

watch -- 6,780 results ("mrjyn" AND "dougmeet") OR ("dougmeet" AND "BLACKPINK") SEO Results Deliver (images) in something i call (Bracket Racket Cluster SOF SEO) inspired by mr. Kurzweil, who makes your piano tuned No thanks to The Recording Academy for inexplicably overlooking Apple's new album Fetch the Bolt Cutters for an Album of the Year nod at this year's Grammys. @fionaapplerocks

flynt (13)

hustler (5)

died (4)

trump (4)

million (3)

doing (3)

insurance (3)

larry (3)

seniors (3)

ditching (3)

Porn purveyor Larry Flynt, who built Hustler magazine into an adult entertainment empire while championing First Amendment rights, died Wednesday.

He was 78.

Flynt had been in frail health and died of heart failure at his Hollywood Hills home, said his nephew, Jimmy Flynt Jr.

Advertisement Skip Ad From his beginnings as an Ohio strip club owner to his reign as founder of one of the most explicit adult-oriented magazines, Flynt constantly challenged the establishment and became a target for the religious right and feminist groups.

Flynt scored a surprising U.S. Supreme Court victory over the Rev.

Jerry Falwell, who had sued him for libel after a 1983 Hustler alcohol ad suggested Falwell had lost his virginity to his mother in an outhouse.

Paid Post What Is This? Seniors Are Ditching Their Auto Insurance and Doing This Instead Seniors Are Ditching Their Auto Insurance and Doing This Instead Seniors Are Ditching Their Auto Insurance and Doing This Instead See More Sponsored Content by Comparisons.org Flynt’s company produced not only Hustler but other niche publications.

He owned a video production company, various websites, a Los Angeles-area casino and 10 Hustler boutiques.

He also licensed the Hustler name to independently owned strip clubs.

His publishing and financial successes were offset in equal measure by controversies and tragedies.

Advertisement 00:48 02:53 Shot by a sniper in 1978, Flynt was paralyzed from the waist down and used a wheelchair the rest of his life.

He fought battles with drug and alcohol addiction, and his fourth wife died of a heroin overdose.

His daughter, Lisa Flynt-Fugate, died in a 2014 car crash in Ohio at age 47.

With a fortune estimated at more than $100 million, Flynt spent his later years in the political arena.

When Gov.

Gray Davis was recalled by California voters in 2003, Flynt was among 135 candidates who ran to replace him.

He called himself “a smut peddler who cares” and gathered more than 15,000 votes.

A self-described progressive, Flynt was no fan of former President Donald Trump.

Before the 2016 election, he offered up to $1 million for video or audio recordings of Trump engaging in illegal or “sexually demeaning or derogatory” activity.

Flynt’s life was depicted in the acclaimed 1996 film “The People vs.

Larry Flynt,” which brought Oscar nominations for director Milos Forman and Woody Harrelson, who played Flynt.

—2021年3月3日 (@mrjyn) status: WAP—2021年3月3日 (@mrjyn)

Twitter [@] Tweet to: @squarebooks From: @mrjyn Comm. on: squarebooks (reply) RE: SB mention by (author) re. SB her book status: WAP—2021年3月3日 (@mrjyn)

mrjyn comment: quotes Elvis song lyric: 'i don't care' adds: 'I miss #BarryHannah (author), mutual friend to mrjyn (person) and SB, Oxford, MS (bookstore) adding here: RIP Date: 03:13:2021 Time: 8:17 CST

1 of 3 jpg att: 1. Elvis photo ephemera 'TCB Oath' 2. Photo of cover of Barry Hannah book jacket "Tennis Handsome" Pub: Knopf Ed.: Gordon Lish 3. Jerry Lee Lewis Cover of Bio Author: Nick Tosches

definitive hypnogogic, Biblical Ovid Southern Gothic Epic hagiography, esprit l'escalier epitaph precursor to whose words will be most tribute to the possible mortality race between the Killer and Keith Richards, KR JLL's Jr. by 15 yrs. check Vegas Book for Odds says Stanley Booth, Author 'Up and Down with the Rolling Stones,' Memphis, TN 'author' -- not Rockcrit, please?

mrjyn comment: quotes Elvis song lyric: 'i don't care' BarryHannah

This frisky pop confection finds Blackpink teaming up with American singer Selena Gomez. The five girls use a series of ice cream double entendres to send out mating calls and detail how they are different from the other females. I know that my heart can be so cold But I'm sweet for you, come put me in a cone Blackpink and Gomez are encouraging the guys to ignore their icy cool demeanors. Once they take a couple of scoops they will find they are loving and affectionate.

The song's icy metaphors not only have a sensual connotation but also allude to the singers' wealth. Ice on my wrist, yeah, I like it like this Get the bag with the cream The girls are wearing diamond encrusted watches (ice is a slang word for diamonds). "Get the bag with the cream" refers to a bag loaded with cash.

The song is Blackpink's second hookup with a major American pop star in 2020, following their Lady Gaga collaboration, "Sour Candy." Both songs use sexy food analogies to represent the enticing love that the girls are ready to give out.

Frequent Blackpink collaborators, the Korean Teddy Park and the American Bekuh Boom, are the primary writers. Park wrote the main melody while Boom was in Korea. She then wrote the lyrics over his tune, incorporating a series of sexy ice cream-related play on words. The other credited writers are Ariana Grande, her go-to collaborators Victoria Monet, and Tommy Brown, Mr. Franks, Selena Gomez and the Korean producer 24.

The retro-tinged video finds Gomez driving a pink ice cream truck in a pinup sailor outfit. The four Blackpink girls all appear in a candy-coated frozen dessert fantasy land before ending the clip in an ice cream amusement park. Blackpink's scenes were filmed in South Korea, while the scenes featuring Gomez were shot in the US because of the coronavirus pandemic.

The song was birthed at a songwriting camp that producer Teddy Park asked Bekuh Boom to run for Blackpink's debut studio album. Boom asked Tommy Brown and Victoria Monét to come to the sessions at LA's Westlake Studio, and the pair brought Mr. Franks along with them. "Tommy had Franks pull up beats, and eventually Franks played the one that all of us started vibing to and decided to work on together," recalled Boom to Genius. "Victoria brought up the subject 'ice cream' and started humming melodies that we then started writing lyrics to together in the room. From that point on we had a great back and forth of ideas for the first half of the song that was done that night."

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no more Seuss or WAP for my kid. Dr. Seuss Enterprises Will Shelve 6 Books, Citing 'Hurtful' Portrayals https://t.co/Cc23ru1M6K— mrjyn (@mrjyn) 2021年3月3日

Eggleston Works " Fontaine II "

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L'opportunità per me di ascoltare un altoparlante EgglestonWorks è arrivata tramite il mio amico e collega, Marshall Nack. Alcuni di voi lettori a lungo termine potrebbero ricordare la recensione approfondita di Marshall dei Rosas di EgglestonWorks. Marshall e la sua adorabile moglie Lynn sono una coppia insolita in quanto entrambi sono audiofili. In realtà, sono l'unica coppia audiofila che conosco personalmente. Sono certo che il fatto che siano entrambi dei musicisti seri è in gran parte responsabile della loro capacità di ascoltare le gradazioni e i dettagli tonali molto fini con tanta facilità. Tra i suoi molti talenti, Marshall ha un'eccezionale capacità di dare voce a un sistema. Sembra sempre in grado di trovare la giusta miscela di componenti e accessori che si traducono in un sistema eccezionalmente ben bilanciato. Questo è molto più difficile da realizzare di quanto si possa pensare. Tuttavia, la natura rivelatrice dei diffusori EgglestonWorks è stata determinante nel raggiungimento dei suoi obiettivi sonori. Quando lo Stereophile Show è arrivato in città questa primavera, la stanza di EgglestonWorks era in cima alla mia lista delle visite obbligatorie. È stato lì che ho incontrato EgglestonWorks prez Jim Thomson e ho iniziato il mio primo ascolto con i Fontaines. So che hai tutti sentito che la qualità del suono agli spettacoli è generalmente piuttosto brutta. Mentre trovo che questo sia ampiamente vero, allo stesso tempo, puoi avere un'idea del potenziale sonoro di un prodotto, o come alla fine potrebbe funzionare in condizioni di casa. I Fontaines furono sistemati nella sala dell'home theater di Eggleston. Incluso con il display era un paio di sub-woofer dedicati. Secondo la letteratura aziendale, "il design di ciascun modello di altoparlante nella linea EgglestonWorks inizia con il midrange". Per le Fontaines, una coppia di 6 "polipropilene, i driver a doppio magnete gestiscono il midrange e il basso. Ognuno di questi driver ha una bobina da 3 "di diametro, che è stata ripetuta molte volte ma che ripete, come è vero, se il midrange non è corretto, di tutti gli altri è infruttuoso. Il tweeter ha una grande camera di smorzamento aperiodico che imita il caricamento infinito del diaframma. Il tweeter è collegato al crossover con un cappuccio e due resistori utilizzati come un L-pad. Un singolo set di morsetti è montato in un pannello incassato nella parte posteriore della sezione driver. Ho chiesto a Jim Thompson di utilizzare un singolo set di post di rilegatura in contrasto con la tendenza attuale di utilizzare post doppio. I driver sono direttamente collegati ai bind. Ovviamente, se un cliente è impostato su biwiring, questi diffusori possono essere dotati di doppio binding post su un ordine speciale.

I driver dei bassi e dei medi sono alloggiati in quello che EgglestonWorks descrive come una custodia con una linea di trasmissione quasi in trasmissione. Ciò si ottiene impiegando un materiale di imbottitura acustico specializzato noto come " Lastre di granito italiane legate a loro. Il risultato finale di questi sforzi è un recinto molto inerte che fornisce una risposta dei bassi molto migliore rispetto alle dimensioni ridotte dei driver. Dopo diverse conversazioni con Jim Thompson, quattro cartoni di dimensioni medie ma piuttosto pesanti arrivarono da EgglestonWorks. I cartoni contenevano il driver e le sezioni di base corrispondenti. Dovresti stare molto attento mentre imposti questi diffusori per non danneggiare la squisita finitura nera del pianoforte. L'immagine non rende in alcun modo giustizia a questi oratori. Devi davvero vederli di persona per capire cosa intendo. I Fontaines possono essere visti come uno di quei prodotti che rientrano nella categoria "audio come arte". Sono semplicemente belli. I Fontaines possono essere visti come uno di quei prodotti che rientrano nella categoria "audio come arte". Sono semplicemente belli. I Fontaines possono essere visti come uno di quei prodotti che rientrano nella categoria "audio come arte". Sono semplicemente belli. La vestibilità e la finitura sono proprio lì con il meglio che abbia mai visto.È ovvio per me che EgglestonWorks ha preso molta cura e ha fatto spese considerevoli nella progettazione e costruzione di questi contenitori. Una volta assemblati, gli altoparlanti danno l'aspetto di un monolitico sul pavimento. Le basi sono sabbia-fallibili e formeranno un recinto molto sostanziale. Vi consiglio caldamente di stabilirvi il posizionamento finale prima di riempire le basi di sabbia. Questi bambini sono abbastanza pesanti per cominciare; una volta riempito di sabbia, sarebbe quasi impossibile per la persona media muoversi da sola. Ho posizionato gli altoparlanti su una trapunta, quindi sui loro lati, per inserire i quattro bulloni che fissano le basi in posizione. Questo viene fatto attraverso un pannello di accesso nella parte inferiore della base. Mentre le punte fornite sono molto robuste, hanno un filo sottile e possono essere facilmente danneggiati se si è negligenti durante l'installazione. Il cofano del conducente è molto inerte quindi consiglierei molto se decidi di eseguire il test delle articolazioni.

Mi piace particolarmente il modo in cui hanno scelto di affrontare le griglie. Sono costruiti con un materiale molto puro montato su una sottile struttura in acciaio. Si collegano al pannello frontale mediante magneti che sono sepolti sotto il laminato di superficie. Questa disposizione rende il fissaggio delle griglie il più semplice possibile e ha funzionato bene per me. Mentre l'efficienza è elencata come quello che potrebbe sembrare un 87db piuttosto basso, non ho avuto problemi a raggiungere livelli di rottura del lease con l'amplificatore di potenza Bel Canto EVo. Però, Quando ricevo nuove attrezzature da recensire, inviterò spesso diversi amici non audiofili, accenderò il sistema e osserverò le loro reazioni. In ogni caso, le reazioni ai Fontaines iniziarono prima che il primo CD fosse nel cassetto ed erano sempre abbastanza positivi. Tutti sono stati presi con il loro aspetto sorprendente e il modo in cui si sono mescolati così facilmente nella stanza. Sono belli come sono discreti. Mentre è abbastanza ovvio dalle specifiche e dalla qualità dell'hardware utilizzato che EgglestonWorks costruisce i suoi diffusori con molta cura,

Come suonano? Dal momento che non ho la possibilità di eseguire alcuna misurazione sull'attrezzatura che ho per la revisione, posso solo dirti come si comportano nel mio sistema. Mentre credo che le misure abbiano il loro posto, difficilmente danno il quadro complessivo. Ci sono stati molti componenti che hanno misurato terribilmente, ma erano artisti stellari dal punto di vista sonoro, e viceversa. Hanno quella qualità trasparente che consente ad ogni strumento di occupare il proprio spazio, ma sempre con un naturale senso di proporzione all'interno del palcoscenico. Nessuna durezza o nervosismo ha mai accompagnato questa chiarezza. Ho notato anche una qualità semplice e costante del suono che lasciava che la musica scorresse in modo molto seducente. Piatti e campane hanno la giusta quantità di lucentezza e delicatezza e di nuovo, sembrano avere le giuste dimensioni. I tassi di decadimento per questi strumenti contribuiscono anche al senso del realismo. Hanno costantemente svelato i dettagli di basso livello che tra l'altro davano un senso reale delle dimensioni del luogo di registrazione. Con Miles Davis,Tipo di bluHo sempre messo in discussione il suono registrato del pianoforte, specialmente con molte delle vecchie registrazioni Blue Note. Proprio l'opposto è il caso della registrazione XRCD, in particolare con molte delle vecchie registrazioni Blue Note. Proprio l'opposto è il caso della registrazione XRCD, in particolare con molte delle vecchie registrazioni Blue Note. Proprio l'opposto è il caso della registrazione XRCD,Waltz for Debby del Bill Evans Trio [JVC XRCD VICJ-60141]. Qui le qualità tonali e la complessa struttura armonica del pianoforte sono presentate molto bene. Sono rimasto sorpreso dal senso di profondità con cui questi relatori mi hanno presentato. La mia stanza non collaborerà molto in quest'area, quindi questa è stata una sorpresa gradita. In effetti, è il migliore che ho sentito qui. Il riempimento del centro era azzeccato: i solisti erano un po 'più avanti di quanto io non fossi abituato, ma era di buon effetto. Nel complesso, ho trovato le capacità di imaging di questi diffusori di essere eccezionalmente buone. Per i miei gusti, Dal momento che il punto -3db è quotato a 55Hz, non mi aspettavo troppo dalle regioni inferiori, ma sono rimasto piacevolmente sorpreso da ciò che ho sentito. Ora non fraintendere, questi non sono gli altoparlanti per gli organi a canne o i fan del reggae. Per quel tipo di uscita dei bassi dovresti guardare molto più in alto nella linea EgglestonWorks. Ciò che è notevole in questo caso è la precisione del basso. Non è mai cupo; piuttosto, tende ad essere stretto e melodico. Quando eseguito male, il basso può oscurare gli elementi musicali nella gamma media inferiore. Il basso dei Fontaines non interferisce o oscura affatto il midrange. In altre parole, la fioritura della fascia bassa non viene a scapito della chiarezza del midrange. Per classica e buona parte del jazz, potresti essere abbastanza soddisfatto della fascia bassa delle Fontaines. Nel complesso, l'uscita dei bassi è stata molto meglio di quanto mi aspettassi. Lo scorso giugno Tim Shea ha scritto una magnifica recensione del Musse Audio Reference Two NF speakers. Li ho a portata di mano e farò una revisione di follow-up. Tuttavia, poiché sono nella stessa fascia di prezzo delle Fontaines, I Reference Twos, come i Fontaines, sono monitor bidirezionali. In questo caso, fornisci gli stand. Le differenze sonore colpiscono a causa della forza di ciascuna bugia alle estremità opposte dello spettro sonoro. Con un punto -3db di 35Hz e una frequenza di sintonizzazione della porta di 29Hz, non sorprende che i Reference Twos si approfondiscano. La parte bassa qui è stretta e melodica. Mentre i Fontaines non vanno così in profondità, Devo dire che il basso è un po 'più stretto e un po' più melodico dei Reference Twos. Tuttavia, i Fontaines ottengono sicuramente un cenno del capo per l'estensione del registro medio e superiore, dolcezza e ottima resa dei dettagli. Questi sono tratti sonori che sono un appuntamento fisso nella sala d'ascolto di Perry e in seguito sono venuto ad ascoltarli per tutto il tempo. In aggiunta a questo, c'è molta aria intorno agli strumenti con un tasso di decadimento molto buono. Alcuni potrebbero descrivere questi diffusori come neutri dal punto di vista tonale, tuttavia si desidera descrivere questa caratteristica. Io, d'altra parte, trovare la loro tonalità per essere leggermente sul lato caldo. Mi sta bene. Nel complesso, semplicemente si tolgono la via della musica. Etta James, Life, Love and The Blues [Private Label 01005-82162-2]: Questo è un CD che è un ottimo esempio del suono "Mussel Shoals". Ha una linea di basso sostenuta molto pesante durante molti tagli. Check-out " senza alcun segno di sovraccarico del conducente o altro pericolo. Dal basso superiore in su tutto va bene. La voce di Etta James arriva con la giusta quantità di morso e calore. Dal basso superiore in su tutto va bene. La voce di Etta James arriva con la giusta quantità di morso e calore. Dal basso superiore in su tutto va bene. La voce di Etta James arriva con la giusta quantità di morso e calore. Patricia Barber, Companion Il senso di immediatezza e presenza è tale che è possibile ottenere un'implicazione delle dimensioni della stanza senza alcun iper-dettaglio per intromettersi. Sul taglio "Usami" c'è un assolo di basso verticale che i Fontaines riproducono con tutte le trame e la ricchezza armonica in tatto. Signorina. La voce del barbiere ha una trama soffice che è abbastanza piacevole senza che i dettagli vocali siano mai esagerati. Non ho mai avuto l'impressione di poter vedere le sue tonsille. Con opere sinfoniche su larga scala, questi bambini continuano nella stessa vena. Mentre le loro capacità limitate di fascia bassa diminuiranno parte dello slam e del peso che i loro fratelli più grandi sono in grado di gestire, Per riassumere, la EgglestonWorks Fontaines può essere descritta come molto musicale. Mentre ti daranno tutti gli attributi che gli audiofili bramano, non sono mai eccessivamente analitici. Apprezzo molto le qualità dei medi che mantengono le mie sessioni di ascolto sul lato lungo. Mi fanno venire voglia di togliersi la roba da audiofili e semplicemente sedersi e godersi la musica. Mi trovo a tirare fuori CD dopo CD che non ho sentito da un po 'di tempo per ascoltare. Se ritieni di dover semplicemente avere quell'ultimo bit di uscita dei bassi, ricorda che i sottotitoli corrispondenti sono disponibili. palcoscenico sonoro totalmente coerente e la massima semplicità della presentazione musicale. Non ho mai sentito alcuna discontinuità tra basso, medi o alti. Erano sempre coerenti in questo senso. Questi diffusori sono di altissima qualità ed è necessario collegarli a ingranaggi di pari qualità a monte. Ovviamente lavoreranno con amplificatori economici, ma riveleranno rapidamente tutte le carenze e le deficienze del suono. Le Fontaines EgglestonWorks sono l'essenza del lusso. Mentre non possono essere considerati a buon mercato e sono in un campo affollato a questo punto di prezzo

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kyungsoomint · 4 years ago

Text

YOURS: Emotions

credit to respective owners for photos

Member: Park Chanyeol (박찬열) / Byun Baekhyun (변백현)

Genre: Angst, Fluff & Smut (Later on)

Word Count: 3.8 k

Notes: So for this one, I tend to overdo it. I said to myself that I should stop but sometimes you just can’t :) Apologize for any mistakes made!

YOURS:

Next Update: August 9

Seoul, 3 months later

"Well I know that you need a car because you don't like people driving you around," her father said, "That's why I bought you a car" he extended his hand to give BMW's car key to her. "You don't have to dad, I'm fine with everything" she was deeply moved by another kind gesture of her foster father. "Oh please! I know that you love big car, SUV and you used to own an Audi. So I thought maybe, getting another SUV with the different brand seems like a fresh start for you" she was awed at the fact that he knows she likes SUV best more than a sedan. She was adopted by a couple, Kim Youngchul and Kim Eunkyung at the age of 7 years old. At that time, she wasn't even sure if someone wants to take her as their daughter and yet there they were raising her as their own child with all of the love and expensive gifts they bought for her. She was grateful for the fact that she's raised by a loving couple and also eager to pay them back.

It was 9 am when Baekhyun came into her office, with the biggest boyish grin she has ever seen "How's your flight yesterday?" he was leaning into the door frame. "It was nice, great weather with no air turbulence" she automatically smiled at him. Baekhyun is just that person that always brings up a smile on people. "Well, that's nice. Anyway, we have a board meeting in an hour. It'll be interesting to meet everyone on the board!" She was about to question him about the 'interesting' part but he quickly got out of her room after saying bye. She shrugged away her thoughts by continuing what her father has left her with pretty much already organized works. She happened to understand the way her father works, so it wasn't a big problem for her.

The meeting room was massive, pretty much designed for board or investors meeting. There was floor to ceiling window that brings light into the dark atmosphere. Black furniture mostly with some touch of black granite. "Good morning, Junmyeon" she greeted Junmyeon who just entered the room. Junmyeon was followed by a much taller man behind, that person sat in front of her. She would categorize as handsome as fuck sitting in front of her, that person didn't look familiar for her. In which, Baekhyun realized that they haven't got to introduce each other, "Oh! So this is Oh Sehun, our Chief Marketing Officer" Sehun then waved his hand, "Hello, I'm Oh Sehun. You must be (Y/N)!" His eyes were projecting excitement. She replied to his enthusiasm with a smile and non, just after that, Chanyeol entered the room. Not surprisingly, his aura radiated throughout the room. She knew even if he smiles, he will still radiate the same energy, the same dominant energy out of him. It's just simply not because he lacked smiling but there's that too.

The meeting started as soon as Chanyeol sat on his chair. They were presenting about weekly reports such as marketing strategy or how well the products received by their customers. Most of the time (Y/N) just took notes to understand the company more. She noticed the way Chanyeol was giving out comments to everyone, in most stoic yet dreadful ones. Whilst, Baekhyun smiled every time he talks about something. He seemed passionate about what he's doing, even if the CEO's not him. "Let's end the meeting here. Baekhyun, I want you to look out a more efficient way of producing the new product, something that doesn't lower the value" his brows were squinting together, "And, (Y/N) I need the weekly financial report by 3 pm. Please report to my office by then". Sure, it's very Chanyeol, she thought to herself. Only three hours to compile everything, she tried hard not to roll her eyes at him, well because of course, he's her boss for fuck's sake. She could see that Baekhyun was giving her an apologetic smile for his friend's usual behavior. It didn't shock her at all, she knew that even if she had so many experiences before, she still has to prove herself to Chanyeol. Man of an action not words, that's what he's. One thing for sure, she immediately thought that it's better to work for Baekhyun than for Chanyeol. She was also unsure why Baekhyun didn't take the role of the CEO since they started the company together.

Back at her office, sure the work environment that she's in made her think from important to the most unimportant stuff. There were lots of stuff going in and out from her mind from how good looking everyone is, how could you even manage to have good looking people with an amazing brain? And there's Chanyeol, she knew that Chanyeol was being skeptical of her. She wanted to prove to him that she got the position not solidly because her father too, she has great potentials, her performance used to be praised by the previous company. Sure if there wasn't her father, she wouldn't be here, but she crawled herself up into this peak point through sweat and tears. Even if she knew that she might lack stuff yet she's ready to prove himself to him.

While overthinking, suddenly Baekhyun entered the room with his fresh cologne blazing through the air. "Hello! How are you doing so far?" Baekhyun entered with a cup, where it seemed to be coffee? "You are gonna be used to Chanyeol" he continued with a smile "Here's a coffee for you, to get through the day". Baekhyun's surely a nice person, with a very bubbly life of course. He sat in front of her, "So, how's your first day?" Baekhyun placed his hands on the table and wrapped his fingers all together. "Well, it's nice to have some pressure and I'm also used to that" she took a sip out of cup and Baekhyun gave a sigh. "Chanyeol is always like that in the first place, eventually he will warm up to you. I can guarantee you that, he wasn't even like the idea of my existence, look at we now" Baekhyun scrunched his eyebrows together, "Hmm, he still hates me sometimes but I do know sometimes what he shows outside doesn't reflect what he's feeling inside" Baekhyun turned into a big grin kid. She returned him with a smile, "You two almost look alike, the fact that I talk much more than the two of you, that horrifies me" Baekhyun pretended to look scared of her. "You talk a lot, Mr. Byun, that's why probably I talk lesser than you" Baekhyun huffed, "Why is everyone keeps on telling me that? But surely those who said that love me" Baekhyun winked at her which earned a laugh from her. Baekhyun sure is a silly person, she thought to herself. "Okay then, I'll disturb you again later on, just because you have a report to be done in 1 hour" Baekhyun went out from her office. Baekhyun sure was loud and talkative but he's the person that will light up the mood for the room. She kinda liked that about him, he made her feel easier to work here by having those types of vibes.

She made her way into Chanyeol's office 5 minutes before 3 pm, she hasn't been inside but she saw his office while her father and Junmyeon were showing her around the office. She met his secretary in front, if she wasn't wrong, his name's Jaejin. "Sir, Ms. Kim is here to hand over the report," he said through the phone. "You can go inside Miss" he was giving a polite smile to her. She went inside his office and she mesmerized by the black interior of his office. Sure, black does give a feeling of safety and comfort to her. His office faced the busy street of Seoul with ceiling to floor length glass. It's almost dark yet warm experience at the same time. Everything in his office seemed to be nice and well designed. "Do you find my office that interesting?" Chanyeol broke the silence which made her jump a little bit because she was so focused looking around. "I love black, so I should say that is place is nice and interesting. I love the ornaments, everything in this place seems nice and comfortable" she turned around to have a good look at his office while smiling. She suddenly realized what was she doing and feeling embarrassed, she handed him the report he asked earlier. "Here is the report you ask, 3 pm sharp, sir", Chanyeol shot his head up after hearing the word sir came out of her mouth "Please call me Chanyeol, as colleagues, I think sir seems too old for me" well, once Chanyeol actually smiled. That was the first time she sees him smile whereas, he rarely showed any emotions before. She was amused to explore that side of him which made her slip out a little back. She tried to gain composure as soon as possible while Chanyeol turned his head into the report. He scanned the report pretty fast, "Impressive work for such a short amount of time" he placed the report at the side of the document that he was signing before she got there. "Working under pressure is my forte", Chanyeol raised an eyebrow at her and leaned back into his leather comfy chair. "Well, you will be looking forward to more of that in the future, you good to go" she gave him a nod and turned her heels around to exit his office. "I almost forgot", she turned to face him again, "Tomorrow, we are meeting one of the key investors. I need you to go with me, 11 am" there was what she would call as a bossy attitude with calmer vibes getting out of him. He used phrases that someone would take as a bossy/possessive person yet that person talks with confidence and calm energy. "Sure, where?" She questioned him. "Don't worry, I'll drive you there" he replied. "Well, okay then" she walked out of his office and realized the fact that he said he'll drive her there.

The rest of the day went by quickly before she realized that the sun has set itself for more than 1 hour where everyone has gone home. As she walked out of her office, she noticed that light still coming from the corner of the big hallway, that's where Chanyeol's office located. Out of curiosity, she made her way down to his office. His secretary was nowhere to be found so she straight out knocking into the wooden black door. She sneaked her head through the door, "Aren't you going home?" She was curious knowing that having a black-themed office at daylight is awesome, at night, well it's scary. "I usually go home around 9 pm, if you are curious" there was a slight flush coming out from her cheeks, fortunately, Chanyeol's office was dark at night so she believed that he couldn't see it. She hummed, "Thank you for the information" she almost wanted to roll her eyes. "Have a good night" he replied with a nod and left his office. Chanyeol could hear the clacking sound of her heels fading out, almost how he heard her approach his office before, the same Valentino black heels. He was taken back by her sudden visit into his office, but like always he plays it cool. After she left his office, she was questioning herself about her unexpected visit too, clearly, auras were clashing. She wasn't the type of person that could be dominated nor was he. So there's a reason why and also she won't be easily be scared of someone. Mainly that's the reason why she was brave enough more than other people to stop by Chanyeol's office, peeping through the door and asking stuff that most people didn't do.

Seoul, the next morning

"I love driving. Also, I love off-road big SUVs. I hope that's sufficient enough to answer your questions" Chanyeol said which answered most of the questions going through her mind. They were standing in the lobby when a grey metallic G-class Mercedes Benz approached them. Unimportant thoughts started to flow through her mind, quite unexpected for a CEO to use G-class since they usually use S-class or such and of course, they don't drive by themselves. She was shocked and amused at the same time by Chanyeol's impromptu answer. "It's written within your face, don't people do that a lot to you?" He said as they were already inside the car. "No. Pretty much not a lot that can identify or find within me" she replied which earned a nod from him, the car fell into silence mode. Chanyeol sure didn't do much of the talking, when he does, he's really good at it. There was an instant urge coming from her, something that she wanted to ask, "Do you know that you radiate that sort of dominant energy all the time?" There she spat it out, in front of her new boss. Chanyeol turned his face to her for a second but she failed to notice because she was looking out of the window. "Does that bother you?", she hummed in response to him, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Chanyeol lightly tapped into the steering wheel, "We both know that we have the same energy going. Doesn't it always bother people like us?" There he said 'us', she was taken back by his use of describing her and him. He seemed to take a lot of interest only to the company and himself and him saying that seemed like a different world. At the same time, Chanyeol didn't realize the word he's using was something he didn't usually use as for people to people conversation. After that, the car ride fell into silence again. She could say that Chanyeol's very interesting person and you could say much like him to her too.

They returned to the office around 1 pm, whereas the work has pilled up alongside with a crumbling stomach. Suddenly, Baekhyun perked up from the door. "Hello!" His voice sounded very energetic like always. "I know you haven't got to eat lunch yet", Baekhyun placed a brown paper bag into her desk, "So I bring you some salad with sesame dressing". Her lips formed into an 'o', "Wow, how do you know?". Baekhyun sat in front of her desk while opening his own salad, "I called Mr. Kim to ask about what kind of dressing you usually have?" He said with a playful smile. She mixed the dressing and salad together, "And why are you doing that?". Baekhyun tried to answer her but failed miserably since his voice was getting muffled by a mouth full of salad. "I said, It's because I want to impress you of course" he then proceeds to stuff more food into his mouth. "Well, it's impressive, thank you Mr. Byun Baekhyun" Baekhyun continued the rest of the lunch with endless topics like he wasn't going to run out of it anytime soon. She found Baekhyun as a very interesting and outgoing person, she talked to her almost like he has known her for such a long time as if they have been friends for years. "So last Sunday, I went cycling at the park and I almost face plant myself into dog poop, as I said almost, I think it's within 2-3 centimeters from my face" Baekhyun made a 'yuck' sound. She let out some light laugh and packed the finished foods into the bag again. "I'm looking forward to more stupid stories", he gave her continuous nods "Sure thing", he gave a wink and went out from her office. Baekhyun's a fun person to hang out with, time went by fast with him.

Weeks and months went by as she has fully adjusted into the company. Chanyeol has taken her to more key investors for financial report presentation. One time she thought that Chanyeol was very keen to keep her busy not only behind the table. The more she worked with him, the more she understood him. That day was another day of investor meeting, "I'm going to drive today, not you" she took the lead out of him without hearing Chanyeol complained behind her. They made their way into the basement where (Y/N)'s car was parked. "I didn't know that this is your car, the car that somehow always park next to me?" Chanyeol was amused to know that the car that's always park next to him, which is also an SUV was droved by (Y/N). "Yeah. How about that?" She opened the car door and both of them got inside. "You were surprised to discover that I drive such a car and now look at yours, it's massive." For once, she really got to roll her eyes at him, "I'm sorry, did you just roll your eyes at me?" Chanyeol has fully turned his body to face her. "Weren't you being judgemental at me?" He continued. As the car approached into the street, she then proceeds to face him, "Then, I'm sorry, sir". Chanyeol proceeded a huff of disagreement, she knew how much he hates to be called that from the directors, "What did I say about the sir, I'm not that old". Her eyes were focused on the road, "In my knowledge, I know one thing for sure that you are older than me, sooo" there was a slight smirk forming from her lips, "using sir sometimes does suit you".

"I love driving big SUV, I used to drive one too in NYC" she broke the usual car ride silence which earned her a nod from Chanyeol. "Isn't driving SUV makes you feel you can see everything clearer and better?" It hit her at the perfect spot, "YEAH RIGHT?" Her voice was louder than he has ever heard before. "Sorry, you were startled weren't you?" They were stopping at the red light, "There are of course many things that I don't know about you and that one counts". There was a sudden urge coming from her that wanted to say well you too not so different. It was around 5 pm when they arrived to have the meeting. That's why the sun has set when they finished. "Let's grab something before I drop you off. I'm guessing that you are a picky person, regardless I'm still picking the place" she said before Chanyeol was able to cut her. "Impressive, you don't even need my opinion" Sure she could sense his sarcasm well, "I do need to impress my boss still" she shrugged. She stopped at a parking lot, "I see nothing here" Chanyeol said. "Of course we need to walk it's a narrow street, cars can't get in" they got out of the car and walked side by side, which was awkward yet comfortable as the night summer air blazing through.

"You thought, I'm going to take you to some fancy restaurant right? Nope," she said as she scooped the soup with rice into her mouth. "I'll say that I kinda like it" sure, of course, he liked it, the restaurant has been here for what? More than 30 years? "I might drive BMW, wear expensive clothes but let me say this, I like this type of food. Right here" a smile escaped from her lips, for once she saw tenderness from his big round eyes. She quickly drifted her gaze back into the food. "I'd like you to take me places," Chanyeol said which made her shot her head up again, back at him. Then, it hit him "I MEAN RESTAURANT like you know, foods, nice foods" he almost shouted and struggled to find the right words. It was followed by a nervous laugh from him which laugh's also rare when it comes to Chanyeol. "Sure, it's not like I'm going to resign tomorrow" she gave a cool shrug, masking that inside part of her was scrambling like crazy.

She drove back to S&S Co. Building where the time was 10 pm already. Surprisingly, they found out that they have already closed the access to the basement. "Shit, I forgot to tell them that my car's still inside" Chanyeol pressed his hand into his forehead thinking what a dumb shit fuck he is. Of course, (Y/N) would feel bad if she just left him there, "I can drive you home" Chanyeol was still trying to get hold of his assistant, "I can grab a taxi, that's fine" which earned a disapproval huff from her. "No, I actually insist on doing it since you pay for the food before I can!" With that, she hit the gas and drove away from the building. Chanyeol sighed at his defeat, "Now, where do you live?". "You need to turn right" he pointed out into the street. "I-Park Samsung" those words alone brought her head to face him. "I-Park?" And Chanyeol replied with a nod. "What tower?" She asked more and more to fulfill her curiosity because she lived there too. "102. Why you ask?" The more she asked the more relevant it's to her. "What floor?" She continued to ask him, "Floor 45" fortunately, she was stopping at the red light. She quickly glanced at him, she wanted to know whether he knew she has been living on the same floor with him or not. Chanyeol was giving her a confused look which means he didn't know. The thing's there are only 2 units on the 45th floor. "I'm not sure whether you know or not. But I live there too, same tower" she released one deep sigh, "same floor. Which means we have been neighbors for months" Chanyeol's eyes widened, "I thought you are living with Mr. Kim?" He questioned. "Fun fact of me, I like to live alone probably because I spent much time alone abroad" little did she know that Chanyeol understood what she's talking about yet he didn't expect her to live next to him. It was thrilling yet exciting to know who's your neighbor, knowing that her neighbor's not a psychopath or some sort of crazy person. But the fact that the person's Chanyeol embedded more meaning.

The next day, she offered to drive him into the office. It was weird coming out from the door at the same time while entering the door and seeing the same person too. But Chanyeol was polite he actually said thank you at her. Another rare thing she experienced. As she got into her office, Baekhyun burst into her office with a maroon suede suit. "I just want to inform you that" he took out his phone and show an image at her, "In two weeks, we will have the 8th anniversary of S&S. This year we are throwing a party at one of the Clubs owned by us. You need to come" Baekhyun said excitedly. She could only reply to him with a yes following with nods. "Good, now I have to do some works" Baekhyun left her office. She was left with her own thoughts, shit, a party? How long has it been since the last time I went.

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skgway · 4 years ago

Text

1832 Nov., Mon. 12

9 1/4

12 1/2

Pickles came at 9 1/4 which roused me up – To see him after breakfast at Lower place or he to call here again in the evening – Letter 3 pages and ends from M– [Mariana] (Lawton) vide line 27 page 285. Inquiries about Miss W[alker]. Smokes what is going on. Writes with implied affection, true and great as that of former days. Is unhappy and carless off living long, and has made her will and …… the tears started to my eyes and all my own affection burst upon me again –

Breakfast at 10 40/.. with my aunt – George Robinson came almost immediately for near an hour – Settled with him for stone leading for James Smith’s road etc. – He proposed some means of getting rid of Lower Brea lane footpath – To see about another day –

Breakfast at 11 40/.. – Told my aunt of M– [Mariana]’s letter – Came to my room at 12 20/.. – Fire in my room and from 12 25/.. to note 2 pages of 1/2 sheet from Miss Walker at 1 10/.. in consequence of which off in 1/4 hour to Lidgate and there in 25 minutes –

Home again in 1/2 hour at 5 20/.. – At my desk in about 10 minutes – Wrote the last 1/4 of page 3, and the ends and under the seal and finished my letter to Breadalbane MacLean – Began yesterday – Thanks for her letter and the willows (sent off Monday 29th instant from Coll house)

"which I am very anxiously expecting, not only for their own sake, but because they are associated with many remembrances that I value most highly" –

Should have written some days ago, but waited in the hope of announcing the arrival of the cuttings – Shall write by tonight’s post to Glasgow to inquire about them – Bavardage amical – Wonder how her people did without her so long (5 weeks away)

"Your life is one continued benefit to them; and a five week’s arrear of such services is hardly to be made up" –

Sorry her father is so dead to the world and that Sir Hector’s health is so failing – Mention the death of old Lochiel on the 19th September – Only known to Lady S– [Stuart] on the 6th ultimo and not known to Vere on the 24th ultimo the date of her last letter to me (from Turin) – Hope

"if Lochiel is obliged to come over immediately surely V– [Vere] will remain with her friends till he can return for her – I should quite dread her being hurried across the alps at this season of the year …. You would all be pleased at dear Vere’s having got her rank – Surely, it has some value in a world of vanities like this" –

Civil congratulations on Mrs. Maclean’s being again about to increase her family and sorrow at Mrs. Hunter’s having lost her youngest daughter – The loss of my steward and my aunt’s suffering health have kept me so long here or I should have been on the continent again before this – But my aunt so very much recovered, no longer uneasy about her – She herself spirits me up to get off, and I hope to leave here about the end of January but all things here so uncertain never think much of plans very long beforehand – Kind regards to all I know "and believe me always very truly yours A Lister" –

Had written the following 2 1/4 pages to M– [Mariana] just before being off to Lidgate –

"Shibden Hall – Monday 12 November 1832

Mary! I have been late this morning, and have done nothing but see and speak to Marian, and breakfast, since reading your letter – It would be difficult to describe the effect it has upon me – It is many months since I have basked beneath the beam of happiness, and without courage to think of the past, or hope to calculate the future, I am attempting to answer your letter –

Your account of yourself unnerves me – I grieve over your leaving Lawton, and tho’ I could, and would, see good in your going to Leamington, if you would let me, I am now uneasy at the thought, and little out of sorts than you can be – The only thing I rest upon, is the manner in which you mention coming here for a few days –

It makes me fancy, nay almost hope, my scheme is not quite impossible – You would have been agreeably surprised, and satisfied to hear what Marian said about it – Say I am not well (God knows I am sick enough at heart) or, which is true, that I am in great perplexity, or that my aunt is poorly (tho’ she is very much better, and probably in no danger) or say what you please, but lose no time in coming to me for at least a few days –

I really do want to see you – I will take the carriage and meet you at Manchester – Do pray make an exertion and get off – At any rate, answer my letter by the second post after you receive it, and tell me if you cannot come off immediately – Nothing like the spur of the moment –

You will get my letter tomorrow afternoon – and, if your answer is off on Wednesday morning, at night on that day I may hear whether I may be off for you on Thursday or Friday morning at seven, or not – Bring merely a few things and yourself – I will take care of you from and to Manchester –

You will see from my manner of writing, that I am not likely to relax my interest while it is yet necessary to your happiness – Your pages of Saturday make me fancy, I may have been mistaken, and that, in the bitterness of disappointment and regret, I may have miscalculated what it was my interest and desire to estimate most correctly

This here written after dinner –

It is needless to write more – I shall anxiously and impatiently wait your answer – I would give worlds to hear of your being in better health and spirits – I had a letter from Eugénie last night – I consider her engaged; and she is to wait my orders till January –

I cannot enter upon the subject of my friend, as my aunt and sister laugh and call her – I am too much thinking of the interests of other days – Come if you can – You might be almost ride over to Manchester –

But cheer up, my dearest Mary – Time was when I had power to charm you into pleasure-stirring thought, and almost into happiness – I am what I was – And yet this power is gone, – Parted like Aynt never to return?

God bless you! The heart knoweth its own bitterness – ’Tis harder than you think to break the spell of twenty years – Entirely and very especially yours AL –

Sent off at 8 by John my letter to Miss Maclean of Coll, Coll house Aros North Britain and my letter to Mrs. Lawton Lawton Hall, Lawton, Cheshire and my letter to the “Reverend T. Ainsowrth, at Miss Bentley’s, 1 crescent, Salford, Manchester”

George Robinson then came and staid till 9 – Said Ramsden, now the constable of H–x [Halifax], bought the last ground sold adjoining my Northgate land at 11/6 [shillings/pence] a yard – and Stancliffe bought his ground fronting into Broad street the street given at 12 /. [shillings] or 12/6 [shillings/pence] a yard but then it was cleared, or sunk down ready for building –

Had seen Bates of Washer Lane who said that I might build a good corn mill at Mytholm with saw and goit and wheel and machinery for £1500 and might have 7 to 7 1/2 percent for my money tho’ people in general did not look for much for their money now –

Some man (Brook?) of Brighouse is letting a mill had 10 percent on his money for the 1st ten years, and then 5 percent rent afterwards – The Embargo on Dutch vessels has already made a great difference – Has stopt the German trade –

Went into the other room for 1/2 hour till 9 1/2 – π [Mariana] thought I might have gone from York to Langton

"Is it Miss Walker of Crow Nest with whom you seem so suddenly to have formed an alliance? You mention her twice as "my friend" and as you were not wont to bestow this title lightly I am puzzled to unders[t]and, not having ever heard you mention her name, how Miss W[alker] has so quickly succeeded in adding herself to the list so designated.

You say, "I shall be glad to hear your friend was etc. etc." I am glad to hear anything that gives you pleasure, and so far shall be pleased to hear all possible good of Miss Walker, but as I don't remember ever having seen her.

She must be satisfied with secondhand interest for I cannot fancy her at all one of those who could herself awaken it. So far as her better health can contribute to your comfort, I rejoice that it is likely to improve and hope by this time she has somewhat recovered the loss of her particular friend" –

You say ‘I always tell you how much better Mr. Lawton is,’ because you always ask me. In bodily health he is certainly better than I have known him for years, but in mind and temper he is infinitely worse. As he improves I fall off, and I have been weak enough to fret and discomfort myself about this Leamington plan until I have almost made myself ill –

M– [Mariana] in very bad spirits about going to Leamington – "and if I could get to you, I should come for consolation" – Should be glad to spend a few days with me but does not know how it can be managed –

Watson more philosophical than π [Mariana], thinks she shall get all her mistresses things off to a place of safety

"Made my will the other day, and told Watson where to find it – I do not fancy, my dearest Fred, that my health or happiness will claim your attention 20 years longer, so dont relax your interest while it is yet necessary to my happiness. I live in so much discomfort that it cannot be expected that I should covet living forever”

Concludes with

God bless you Fred. Whatever I have said or may say, trust me, there is not much warmer affection bestowed upon you than that which flows from the heart of yours, very entirely, Mariana –

Poor π [Mariana].

Vide line 4 of today – The following is Miss W[alker]s note

I have received a letter, which you shall see, but we must meet on different terms. Oh that I had taken you at your word last Monday, and as you said finished the matter on that day. I should then have spared you this additional bitterness.

I did hope when my word was once given to you that I should have felt at rest and satisfied, but in reflecting on all you have said and trying to turn it to my own advantage I cannot satisfy my conscience, and with such sufferings as I have endured since Wednesday, I feel I could not make you happy. That I should only bring misery upon you, for misery I am sure it would be to you to see me in the state I have been in for several days.

It was this sort of wretchedness that was expressed in my note on Friday. It was these miserable feelings that prompted my request

(that is I suppose for me not to send to York for the ring)

For your own sake, fly whilst it is yet in your power,

(I smile as I copy this sentence)

and believe that I will never intrude myself in any way upon you (unless it is your wish) whenever you revisit the neighbourhood.

Nov[embe]r 12 eighteen hundred and 32 writton [written] on the outside of this half sheet but under cover,

Read this alone

–

Off I set. Found her twenty minutes ago returned from Cliff hill and lying on the bed in tears. Kissed and soothed her till in a few minutes she went down to dinner. I remained in her room a little while read overMr. Ainsworth’s letter pathetic appeal to her feelings, making sure that she must be engaged and hoping that her choice would do all he, Mr. A[insworth], had hoped to have done.

Begging her to take the scrapbook as a friend and to condescend to write in answer to say if he might send the book and a narrative of himself. And if this business should be the death of him, he would only pray for blessings on her. But much bad tact and the whole ill done, tho better than I expected.

I went down before dinner was over. Agreeablized and amused both Miss Parkhill and Miss W[alker]. Then pretending business letters for Miss W[alker] to answer, Miss P[arkhill] left us, and I talked the poor girl into admiration of my conduct and into thorough approbation of my writing and sending (I wrote there and shewed it to her) the following to Mr. Ainsworth,

Lightcliffe Mon[day] 12 November eighteen hundred and 32.

Sir, I am commissioned by Miss Walker to acknowledge immediately the receipt of your letter of Saturday and to inform you that she has given me for the future, at least for some time to come, the surveillance of all her letters and parcels.

I am Sir your obedient servant, Anne Lister

Before writing I had asked if it was her heart that had changed towards Mr. A[insworth]. No, it was all her conscience. She owned she was not in a fit state to judge fairly and tho she had felt great affection for him, yet she did not know how it was, now all seemed dead. And if she felt at liberty, she did not know or think he was quite the man she should choose, in spite of the two great things, his being a clergyman and liking to live at Cliff hill.

‘Well, but what would you have done had I not been here?’ She said she would certainly have exone[ra]ted herself now. Would have gone to her aunt Ploughs in London and then brought down the Chapmans with her. She would not have been alone and would have kept out of the way and done the best she could.

This, said I, is enough. In answer to her note said I did not think her at liberty to marry anyone without my consent, in which she agreed, and that Wednesday had given me a power over her which I was determined to use in her service. She would be better by and by and more able to judge for herself, and then she might try again, but now I should not let her.

She might safely trust to my honour, but I pledged myself to nothing. She brightened up and owned how much better she was. I even brought away, with her full consent, and A[insworth]’s letter, and the book of prayers he gave her with a long rigmarole written on one of the flyleaves promising to get her another of the same from London, and on asking for my dirty night things to bring back she said no till I promised to send clean ones, and we parted very good friends.

She agreeing with me that she had reason to be thankful for the great event of Wednesday – Who could have anticipated such a result as the consequence of her note? She likes me. But my affections are not so fearfully and I irretrievably hers as she thinks, and I shall manage well enough, tho I really will do her all the good I can –

Writing the above till 11 – Came to my room at 11 20/.. and then wrote note to Mrs. Holroyde

“Mr. T. Holroyde Esquire Solicitor Halifax” in answer respecting the land at Northgate – Not in any way anxious to sell, but would sell lot A as marked in the plan if his client would give my price – But before naming any terms I wished to know what sort of buildings it was proposed to erect –

Wrote to desire Booth to get me Gilpins practical hints on Landscape gardening and theform of family prayers published by Hatchard and Son Piccadilly London 8 edition 1828. 12mo. [duodecimo] pages 159 and 2 bottles of Albin and Chapman’s chemical writing ink –

Did my clothes for the wash. Very fine November day – Fahrenheit 49º now at 11 40/.. – Sent off my note written last night to Mr. Holroyde –

[in margin] vide line 12 page 286

nothing like the spur of the moment

very fine November day

#anne lister #ann walker #shibden hall 1832 #mr. ainsworth #anne lister code breaker

4 notes · View notes

something-tofightfor · 5 years ago

Text

Take a Sip - Part 2

Pairing: King Caspian x Reader

Word Count: 5760

Rating: M. There’s some suggestion, and a little bit of language, some plotting against the crown... an attempt on someone’s life, some violence... it’s a lot to happen at a harvest festival.

Author’s Note: I’m a few hours late, but here’s some Caspian holiday angst for your Wednesday morning.

As before, it takes place in the same story-line as His Favorite Place, well after part 6. It can technically be read on its own, but knowing that story will be helpful.

Summary: The Harvest celebration is a lot more eventful than you and Caspian would like.

Want to be tagged? Ask! Want to be removed? Ask!

General:

@the-blind-assassin-12 @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @obscurilicious @sweetybuzz25 @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @gollyderek @poindexted @ificouldhelpyouforget @elanor-of-imladris @thesandbeneathmytoes @luminex3 @geeksareunique @weallhaveadestiny @mfackenthal @thesumofmychoices @yannii04 @beautiful-thinking @drinix @agentlingerie @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @dreams-with-thoughts @wangmangagavroche @malionnes

Caspian:

@emyyjemyy @damalseer @thisisparadisemylove @chibiyanai @life-is-a-melody @shinebrightlikeafanbase @halfwit-halfblood @littlemermaidprobz

Unsure:

@banditthewriter @padfootagain @madamrogers @ethereal-heavcns @editboutique @marauderskeeper @ilkaeliseb @delicatelilyflower @king4thesirens @ymariejp @mr-robot-x @rageshots @introvertedlibrary @writing-for-a-chance @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @likeorions @swiftyhowlz @dylanobrusso @malik-payne @lynne1993 @traeumerinwitzhelden @ladyblablabla @dreamwritesimagines @audreychaz @tc-elliot @kind-wolf @honeyydippaa @binbonsadoration @ificouldhelpyouforget @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ms-delos@jeanettexkillian @elioelioeli0 @projectcampbell @giggleberts

Two hours later, you and Caspian were walking arm in arm through the square, taking in the sights. You were pointing things out to him and sampling foods and beverages from carts, all of the vendors being perfectly understanding of the need for caution when you selected an unopened bottle at random, or asked to pick a cake or bite of bread from the bottom of the stack. “Can’t be too careful,” one of the young women had said as she batted her eyes at him, smile tightening as she eyed you. “Your Majesties, it’s an honor for you to try my baking.” She curtsied and then looked again at Caspian, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth slightly. “I hear that the masquerade tonight is open to all?” He looked around the crowd, noting that many Narnians - even the creatures - were wearing masks of their own; some held up by slender sticks that they carried in their hands, others worn as hats or settled over their heads like helmets. What a turnout. She’s amazing at this.

“Yes, it is. As soon as dinner has finished, we’ll start lighting the candles and lanterns and then the event will begin promptly at dusk in the fields.” You spoke up, stepping forward and pointing to another stack of cookies on the woman’s display. “Would it be possible to buy all of these from you?” The young woman’s eyes widened, her hand going to her mouth as you addressed her directly. “They’re very good, and try as I might, I have yet to be able to balance the spices with the pumpkin, and…” You shrugged and Caspian laughed quietly, looking over at you. I didn’t even know you were trying. “We’ll pay you fairly for them, of course, I’m not asking you to give them to us.” As you and the woman worked out the details of the sale, her gaze turning more friendly as you arranged delivery the following morning, Caspian’s eyes again wandered over the crowd, landing on Danmair and Rantawn, who were talking with some of the Royal Guard members animatedly. No concern, still nothing. “Caspian, are you ready?”

He was brought back to the present by your voice, and saying goodbye to the merchant with a nod of his head, the two of you resumed your walk through the crowd. You headed to the outer portion of the square and the decorated path that led to the edge of the village, where the orchards and fields began. “These decorations look beautiful,” he said as his eyes wandered over the colorful flowers and gourds that adorned the edges of the path. “I don’t know how I missed this, I -”

“You haven’t left Cair Paravel in almost a week, Caspian. We’ve only been decorating for a few days, I’m not surprised you didn’t know.” You kept walking, stopping to show him floral arrangements, pausing for him to lean over and touch the banners that many of the women in town had worked on sewing; brightly colored fabric filled with designs depicting the harvest season, the history of Narnia and even Aslan and the Kings and Queens of Old. “We’ll keep these, Caspian. They’re a symbol of how hard working our people are, of how creative.” You spoke into his ear, lips brushing against it. “They love you, Caspian, and wanted to make you happy.” His eyes landed on one of the banners further down the path, a smile growing. Not just me.

“They love you too.” He pulled you forward, stopping in front of it and reaching out to run his fingers along the stitching. “Those are your wedding flowers.” His hand moved to another panel. “There’s your ring.” You stared quietly, and even in the dwindling daylight, when Caspian glanced over at you, he saw the sheen in your eyes, the slight wavering of your lip. “It’s barely been a year, and they’re celebrating you like this, too.” He turned to face you, not caring that there were people milling around you and touched your cheek, head shaking back and forth slightly. “They’ll always celebrate you, even long after we’re both gone.” With a single nod, you agreed with him, turning your gaze back to the banner in front of you before you took a deep breath and pointed.

“There’s the maze we built. Will you try to figure it out with me?” Yes. Of course. Though smaller than the mazes that were within the outer walls of Cair Paravel, Caspian knew that if you’d paid half as much attention to the intricacy of the one constructed out of what looked like corn stalks and baled hay, he was in for a treat.

“Lead the way, my Queen.” giggling, you quickly walked down the path, entering the maze with your hand held tightly by his.

---

It had only taken you half an hour to escape the confines of the maze, precious moments ticking by as Caspian stopped you, tugging on your hand to pull you close to his chest, his lips skating over your cheek as he whispered against your skin. I love you. I need you. I want you. Your breathless sighs were music to his ears, and he was almost certain that you’d led him down the same dead end twice simply to have more time away from the crowd with him. But as you emerged into the twilight, Caspian’s breath was taken away as he saw that the field beyond the maze was awash with light; hundreds of flickering candles were placed inside of carved pumpkins that had been set up in a rough border around the open area and more light came from lanterns that were hung high on curved poles, some of them covered by a gauzy, glittering fabric that softened the glow further, sending glints of twinkling light across the wide field. “What do you think, Caspian?” You spoke from his side, hand held tightly in yours. “We experimented with the way the light -”

“I’ve never seen light do that before. Not even… not even on the sea as we neared Aslan’s Country, not… not after the curse broke. Never.” He looked down at you, a gentle smile on his face. “Who helped you with this, I need to commend them.” You shook your head, biting down on your lower lip. “What, why won’t you tell me?”

“He made me promise not to tell you, he didn’t want to…” Caspian watched as your eyes flicked away from him and to the right, Caspian’s quickly following. Danmair? Really? You shrugged as he returned his gaze to you, but he saw the amusement in your eyes. “Don’t say anything, Caspian. He won’t -”

“Don’t worry, Danmair’s secret is safe with me.” But as the two of you walked around the edges of the clearing, admiring the pumpkins - some simply cut open, others featuring faces or geometric patterns and lit from the back, Caspian found that he couldn’t stop thinking about all of the work it had taken to organize the festival, to reach out and invite Narnia’s citizens, to ensure that even without his help, things were as they needed to be. “Stop.” Caspian squeezed your hand, planting his feet in the soft grass only a few yards where the musicians were setting up. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about -” But you stopped him from speaking, one finger pressed to his lips and a minute shake of your head. Alright. “But I‘m glad that you were completely focused on this,” he said, gesturing around the two of you. “It shows. The people won’t forget this, and neither will I.”

“Good, my King.” You removed your hand from his face, taking a breath. “This is my first Harvest as Narnia’s Queen, and now… well, things had to be different, I couldn’t… I wanted to make it special.” You did. But before Caspian could respond to you, a voice from his left drew his attention.

“Your Majesties, please step this way.” Lord Rantawn was gesturing toward the dais where two chairs had been placed side by side. “You’ll need to lead the toast for the crowd and then take the floor for the first dance of the evening.” The two of you made your way to the chairs where another staff member waited, holding a tray with three glasses and an unopened bottle of wine. Upon reaching it, the staff member bowed slightly, waiting as Danmair reached for the wine, opening the bottle in front of Caspian’s eyes and raising it to his lips, never breaking eye contact as he took a long drink directly from the bottle. “Pick your goblets, please.” Caspian let you go first, and once both of you had the golden vessels in your hands, Danmair poured the liquid into them, nodding again at the waiter before he set the bottle back down.

“Thank you, my Lord.” Though a member of his Council, Danmair had time and time again proven his loyalty in more ways than by giving advice, and when Caspian permitted it, he stepped directly into potential danger; sampling food and drink, seeking out information - and, most recently, spending the days with you when you left the castle’s confines. Caspian leaned in to speak directly into the man’s ear. “For everything.” When he straightened up, Caspian glanced down at you, watching as you looked over the crowd that had been milling around, conversation buzzing. Time to begin. He raised two fingers, catching the attention of one of the musicians, who raised a horn to his lips and blew - a long, low note that echoed throughout the clearing, immediately silencing the crowd.

Surveying the crowd as he stepped forward, Caspian looked out over his subjects - man and beast alike - allowing himself to smile as he made eye contact with many of them, most faces hidden by elaborate masks. He raised one hand to touch your back, glancing over his shoulder at you as you stepped with him, straightening up. Short speech, a few dances… night’s almost over.

“Good evening!” Raising his voice so that he could be heard across the crowd, Caspian began speaking, mentally preparing for his second address of the evening. “Another year has come and gone, another fruitful harvest has helped to ready the land for the winter months.” A noise of assent passed through the crowd, many raising their cups higher. “Each year, we celebrate the harvest for many reasons, but the most important of those is that we, as a country, have again prospered by the grace of Aslan.” Caspian cleared his throat. “This year’s celebration is most special as it is the first that I’ve shared with my wife by my side.” Caspian’s hand left your back and he held it out, palm upturned as you took it with your right, grinning up at him. “But it’s even more special because she planned the entire thing this year, with the help of some very trusted and capable individuals.” Caspian raised his goblet, eyes leaving your face to move over the crowd again. “Thank you for welcoming her the way that I have, for accepting her as your Queen and for allowing her to turn this festival into something magical.” Caspian licked his lips, gesturing with his goblet toward the crowd. “To Aslan.” They repeated the words. “To all of you.” Again, they echoed him, enthusiasm apparent. “To Narnia!” At the last word, Caspian turned to face you and you to him, raising your own goblet and tapping the edge against his.

“To you, my King.” You winked at him and took a long drink, eyes closing at the taste of the sweet wine, and Caspian too put his lips to the edge of his cup, swallowing twice as he emptied it. Delicious. “Now dance with me, Caspian.” He nodded as you put the cups back onto the tray and then led you out into the crowd, where you took your place and waited for the band to start playing. When they did, the two of you began stepping along with the notes, one of his hands at your waist and the other tightly holding yours. Caspian danced with you for three songs, spinning you around easily while looking at no one else and paying attention to little aside from the way you felt in his arms and the sound of the music as it carried you through the damp grass.

By the time you pulled away from him, head thrown back in laughter, Caspian was almost dizzy with his affection for you. “I love you.” You nodded, reaching up to touch the side of your face, straightening your mask. “Let’s take a break.” You nodded, stepping off to the sidelines of the party, making your way through the other dancing couples. The two of you joined a short line at one of the refreshment stations that had been provided to the crowds, and Caspian watched as you used a dipper to fill your cup with cider, but rather than sipping as was custom for a Queen, you drained it in only a few gulps. “Thirsty?” You handed him your cup and he filled it for himself. That is good. “Would you like to sit, or?” Shaking your head, you waited until he finished with his drink before linking arms with him and wandering through the crowd, greeting people as you passed them.

“This is important, right, Caspian?” He nodded, even though he knew you weren’t waiting for an answer. “Letting the people know that nothing is amiss… and even if … he is here, showing him that we’re not afraid.” I thought we weren’t going to… You stopped walking after a few minutes, and though he couldn’t see any of them, Caspian knew that his men still had their eyes on the two of you. “I’m having a good time, and so are you, I can see that your cheeks are red.” You raised a hand and he felt you pinch his skin, lips pursed together in a smile. “We needed this.” He nodded, leaning into your touch.

“You know what else I need?” The inhale of breath given as your answer told him that you did, and he continued. “You, in my arms, in our - “

“Excuse me.” Caspian stopped speaking immediately, eyes drawn downward to the source of the voice. “Your Majesty, may I have this dance?” He looked back up at you, watching as your mouth dropped open and you immediately dropped to one knee, allowing yourself to get to eye level with the boy that had approached you. “My mom said not to -”

“Of course.” You smiled at the boy - who was wearing a fox mask - while bowing your head. “But only if you tell me your name.” The boy clapped excitedly before getting control over himself again and he held out a hand, a solemn look on his face.

“My name is Cirso.” A Telmarine. “And you look very pretty tonight.” Caspian fought back a smile, watching as you glanced up at him, eyes bright. Caspian decided it was time to interject, and he repeated the boy’s name.

“Make sure you bring her back to me after your dance, young man.” The boy stared up at the king, mouth slightly agape. I remember being that age. “Now go, before I change my mind.” Caspian winked and and watched as you stood, holding your hand out and allowing the boy to lead you onto into the middle of the crowd of dancers. He watched you closely as you took both of the boy’s hands, spinning slowly with him as you danced, the boy keeping up with you easily, and then even Caspian had to laugh as others made their way to you, watching both of you move. When the song ended, Caspian stepped forward to collect you, but you found his gaze, waving him off and started a second dance with the boy, this time inviting other children and teenagers into the group, taking advantage of the upbeat music the band was playing.

“She fits in here, your Majesty.” Caspian’s eyes stayed on you even as the man stepped beside him. “The people love her.” Nodding slowly as you held your arm up to spin a teenage girl a few times, Caspian took his eyes off of you and looked to his right, where Rantawn stood.

“Not everyone, my Lord.” Your laugh carried to him, and Caspian’s attention was again diverted, watching as you threw your head back, hair tumbling out of the pins that held it and falling against your shoulders as you laughed. “There are those…”

“Still no word from the ships or our men, Caspian.” Rantawn sighed, bringing his own cup to his lips and shaking his head. “We thought…”

“No news is good news, right?” The second man agreed, and Caspian took the pause in music as a chance to scan the crowd again, smiling as the people - his people - celebrated another year of success, another year of fortune and good health. “Maybe the rumors were unfounded.”

“Unfortunately, I doubt that.” Rantawn spoke again, using one hand to point at the guards stationed around the party, their uniforms and unmasked faces standing out. “But we’re prepared, and…” The music started again and Caspian searched for you, looking for your hair now, and when he found it, he focused on you, no more than ten yards from him, but surrounded by people. “You and the Queen…” But his friend’s words faded as Caspian watched you intently, lips parting as he took a half step forward, his hand rising to pull the mask from his eyes, dropping it to the ground.

You looked around as you danced, the lanterns casting flecks of iridescent light against your skin, and Caspian’s throat got tight as he watched you reach out, taking a cup from someone’s hand and lifting it to your lips. No. His feet moved, eyes never leaving you as he pushed past people, heart racing. No, no. “Stop!” He finally spoke, feeling the urgency of the single word as it left his lips. “Stop!” You heard him despite the music, eyes finding his over the rim of the dull silver cup that you were holding, and as you saw the look on Caspian’s face you froze. “Don’t!” Please. But he watched again as the same hand that had given you the drink reached forward to tip the bottom, angling the opening toward your waiting mouth.

He watched your grip on the cup loosen, watched it fall from your hand, watched you turn in the direction of the outstretched arm, one hand reaching for your waist. Caspian heard Rantawn’s voice beside him and was vaguely aware of the movement of other guards, but he was still focused on you, on your movement, on the way the shimmering lights made it look as if your lips were wet. No. He heard a scream and watched as your arm moved, once forward and then back, and then Caspian was at your side, hand on the hilt of the sword that he’d somehow drawn as he hurried to you. The man on the ground was clutching his side and Caspian glanced down, his lip curling into a sneer as he watched the heavy mask fall away, revealing the bearded face of his former adviser, the tip of his sword mere inches from the center of the man’s stomach, where a tear in the fabric from your dagger was visible, blood seeping through it.

The crowd scattered as Caspian’s guards reached where you were, and as soon as they had the man surrounded, he turned to you, dropping his weapon as he reached out. “You didn’t…” your eyes were wide and Caspian removed your mask, his hand going to your cheek and the other reaching for your lips, wanting to -

“Don’t, my King.” Your voice was trembling, eyes downcast as you stared at the man that had been pulled into a sitting position by Danmair. “Don’t touch my lips.” Oh no. You finally looked up at him and he saw the tears in your eyes, glittering even more brightly than the rainbows cast by the lanterns. “I… I didn’t even…” You were on the verge of tears and Caspian heard himself yelling before he even realized what he was doing.

“A doctor! Call for a doctor! Call someone, get them…” He was frantic, the hand still on your cheek, the other one hovering only an inch from your face. “Did you…” Your mouth hung open slightly and he watched as you fought to keep from wetting your lips.

“I don’t… Caspian, I don’t know.” With a snarl, he whirled around to face Sor, hands falling from your body as he pushed his guards to the side and grabbed the man by his bloodied shirt.

“What was it, Sor? What was in that cup?!” He didn’t recognize his voice as he dragged the man to his feet, shaking him. “Tell me what was in that cup!” The man laughed, though he was obviously in pain, and Caspian shook him again, not caring that the entire kingdom was watching. “What did you use to poison my wife!”

“Hemlock, you traitor. Hemlock and nightshade mixed with a sweet wine.” Oh no. He heard you gasp behind him, and Caspian immediately let go of Sor’s shirt, pushing him back into the waiting arms of the guards.

“The dungeons. Lock him up.” Without another thought to the man, Caspian turned back to you, heart thudding. “I need to know,” he started, his voice shaky. “Did you swallow anything?” You didn’t answer right away, and Caspian watched as your hands shook, eyes going to the ground where the cup had fallen, landing only inches from your bloodied dagger. “Please.” He took your hands in his, saying your name, and finally you looked up at him, eyes wide.

“I don’t… I didn’t swallow anything, Caspian, but…” He watched your lip tremble. “I think it… I think it touched my…” You were interrupted as the doctor pushed through the gathered crowd.

“Your Majesties.” The doctor spoke quietly, laying one hand on your arm and the other on Caspian’s. “We need to get you back into Cair Paravel, as quickly as possible.” Without pause, Caspian stepped forward, picking you up with one arm around your lower back and the other beneath your knees. Your arms went around his neck as he held you close, your face buried against the material of his jacket - but it wasn’t until you’d cleared the majority of the crowd that you began to cry, sobs racking your body as you clung to him tightly.

---

The doctor had taken you to the palace infirmary, Caspian carrying you the entire way - unwilling to put you down even when his arms began to ache. As the man busied himself gathering supplies, you pushed away from him and sat on one of the beds, hands clasped in your lap. The room was silent aside from the opening and closing of cupboard doors and the muttering of the doctor as he searched for supplies. Lucy’s healing cordial would be perfect right now. Caspian’s head was filled with bitter thoughts as he stood in front of you, but most of all he was heartbroken at the thought of losing you from something as simple as the touch of a liquid to your lips, something that could have easily been avoided. “Caspian?” You spoke quietly and he sank to his knees in front of you immediately, reaching for your hands. “Caspian, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?” He shook his head. “What do you have to be sorry for?” His brow furrowed, Caspian moved closer, shaking his head harder. “You didn’t -”

“I didn’t think Caspian. I let myself forget, and I took the -”

“Stop. You shouldn’t have had to… If I’d…” He closed his eyes, unwilling to cry in front of you. Not yet. “You’re going to be fine, you didn’t swallow -”

“Your Majesties.” The doctor was back, holding a dampened cloth in his hands. “The effects of Nightshade and Hemlock by themselves are… often irreversible, but together?” The man sighed. “I won’t lie to you, if the Queen swallowed -”

“I didn’t.” You spoke again, your voice stronger than it had been as Caspian moved from the floor to the bed beside you. “I know that for sure, but I feel like…” You closed your eyes. “It reached my lips, and…” You took a deep breath. “I’m the library custodian, I know what that means, I…” You swallowed. “I may only have hours until…” No.

“Your Majesty, time is truly of the essence.” He held the cloth out and you took it from him. “Press your lips together and clean the area around your mouth with this, and then when that’s done, you’ll need to... “ The doctor paused. “You’ll need to put it between your lips and leave it there for a few minutes. It’s not going to be pleasant, but…” You acted without waiting for him to finish, shuddering as you got a whiff of whatever was on the cloth as you swiped it over your skin and then gagging as you closed your lips around it. “You’ll feel the area going numb, but I promise you, that’s not due to what you almost drank, your Majesty.” The doctor reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing. “This is to draw the poison from you if possible, there are ingredients in what you’ve got right now that can sometimes counteract…” The doctor fell silent and the three of you waited as the doctor stared at his pocket watch, Caspian’s hands clasped tightly with yours. His mind raced with possibility - if you died, he’d go straight to the dungeon and kill Sor with his bare hands. If she lives, I might still… “Time’s up.” The doctor pulled the cloth from your mouth and you coughed as it was removed.

“I’m so thirsty.” He looked at you, noticing that your lips were swollen and red. “Can I?” Standing directly in front of the two of you, the doctor placed his hands on his hips and sighed.

“No. I’m sorry.” He took a breath. “The first few hours are crucial. You’ll feel the numbness from the treatment dissipate within a few minutes, but the risk of drinking anything…” You nodded sadly. “As long as you haven’t started hallucinating or having trouble breathing by sunup, you will be fine, your Majesty.” Caspian heard you suck in a surprised breath. “There’s a chance, of course, that I am wrong, but... “ He too knelt down, reaching out to take your hand. “All we can do is wait, I’ve done everything that I can.”

“Thank you.” You offered a weak smile at the doctor and Caspian felt himself freeze. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.” Caspian watched as you squeezed the man’s hand. “If it’s not too much to ask, can we have some…” The doctor stood and bowed at the waist, letting you know that if he was needed, he’d be on the other side of the door, and then the two of you were left alone, the silence deafening, Caspian’s entire body feeling numb. “Caspian?” You met his eyes and he saw that you were trying to hold it together. “Will you help me get this dress off, please?” He moved quickly, pulling you to your feet and unlacing the front of your dress, fingers shaking as he untied the strings. His hands moving to your shoulders, he squeezed them before turning you gently around, undoing the buttons on the back of your dress - so much like he had the first night he’d ever touched you, the dress falling to your waist and then to the floor, revealing a shift beneath it. “Thank you, my King.”

He heard the tears in your voice and blinked back his own as he lowered his head, pressing his lips to the bare skin of one shoulder and then the other, fingers gathering your hair to lift it and expose more of you to him. But you didn’t let him linger as you turned, giving him a small smile as you reached forward, pushing the jacket off of his shoulders and waiting until he’d shrugged it off before moving to help him remove his vest. Neither of you spoke, but he knew what you were thinking - that it could be the last time you touched each other, the last time… “You’re going to live.” Caspian’s voice was strong, even as he helped you into the narrow hospital bed, his arms going around you as you leaned back against him, the weight comforting. “Aslan wouldn’t have brought you to me only to take you so quickly.”

You laughed - quietly - but it was still something, and Caspian held you tightly, taking a deep breath. She will live. She has to live.

---

Though he’d fought it with every breath in his body, Caspian had fallen asleep at some point throughout the night, and when he woke the next morning, you were gone from the bed, though the sunlight was streaming in through the large windows. He called your name, frowning at the raspy sound of his own voice, and pushed out of the bed. I guess that’s what happens when you talk for hours. Caspian glanced around the room, looking for you, and saw that your dress was still crumpled on the floor where he’d left it, his vest next to it. Where’s my jacket? Without worrying about shoes, Caspian walked quickly across the room, rapping his knuckles on the door that separated the doctor’s room from the main infirmary, anxious. Where is my wife?

His question was answered when the door opened, revealing you standing on the other side of it, wearing his jacket. “Good morning, my King.” Your voice was as raw as his, and rather than respond, Caspian took you into his arms, hugging you tightly and sobbing audibly at the feeling of your hands on his back, fingers digging into his skin. “Caspian.” Though he didn’t want to, he pushed you away, staring at you.

“What?” He wet his lips, shaking his head. “Why did you leave the room, what…” He noticed for the first time that your eyes were red-rimmed, dark circles beneath them, your skin pale. “Did you sleep?” You shook your head no, glancing over your shoulder before you stepped back into the main room, pulling the door shut behind you.

“I didn’t sleep, Caspian. I didn’t want to close my eyes because I was afraid…” She was afraid she wouldn’t wake up. “You fell asleep, and I couldn’t… I just wanted to be with you. I had so much to tell you, but I thought…” You smiled. “I thought if things got bad, I could sneak out and then you wouldn’t… have you watch, and…” You touched his cheek and he turned his head toward your hand, kissing the heel of it before moving his lips to your palm. “I counted down the minutes until the sun came up, and when I heard the door creak open, the doctor invited me into his office so that we didn’t disturb you.”

“You should have…” Caspian’s eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t angry. “You let me sleep, and I…”

“I’m going to be fine, Caspian.” You took a deep breath. “I’m a little dizzy, but the doctor said that if things were worse, we’d know by now.” You laughed again, the sound weak. “I’m exhausted, and want to sleep for a month, but… I’m going to live, Caspian. Sor failed. He played his hand, and now…” Caspian reached for you, hands going to your waist. “I almost…”

“But you didn’t.” Caspian lowered his head, pausing before his lips met yours. You nodded and he continued, lips pressing against yours in relief more than anything. She’s going to live. She wouldn’t have let me… You kissed him back, the hand on his cheek moving to his hair and when you broke apart, you sighed, licking your lips. “Are you alright?” You groaned, nodding. “Good.” He kissed you again, wanting to never let you go, but he knew that he had to.

“Caspian?” He hummed, raising an eyebrow. “Next year, can we just…” You closed your eyes. “Can we just do the festival in the square?” He couldn’t help it - Caspian laughed, hands sliding from your waist to encircle you, pulling you to his chest as he rocked back and forth slowly, your hands on his shoulders. “I’m serious.” You pushed him away, pausing. “Nothing can top this year, so…” In disbelief, he searched for your face, but when he reached your eyes - though they weren’t as bright as they usually were, he saw you in them, even with the fatigue. “Take me to bed, Caspian. I need to sleep.” He nodded, making a mental note to return to the infirmary later that day and thank the doctor profusely and leading you to the main door, his arm around your waist. “Wait, Caspian.” You stopped, frowning. “What… what’s going to happen to Sor?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t try to hide the malice in his voice. “I know what I’d like to do to him, but…” He shrugged. “Maybe when you stabbed him, you…” Killed him, I hope. But he knew that wasn’t the case, that you likely hadn’t even hurt him too badly, otherwise someone would have brought the man to the infirmary for treatment. Maybe I’ll stab him myself.

“Caspian,” You cleared your throat. “Let me sleep for a few hours, and then we can…” You took a breath and straightened up, managing to look regal even through your exhaustion. “We’ll show the people that I’m going to be fine, and then… we can deal with Sor. Together.” Unable to deny you, Caspian nodded, opening the door and stepping into the hall, the two of you slowly making your way toward your quarters. He locked the door behind him, before helping you undress - this time completely, following suit himself. The two of you climbed into bed, Caspian pulling the blankets up and around your bodies as you settled in against his bare chest. Within minutes, you were asleep, the even sound of your breaths soothing his frayed nerves - but this time, it was Caspian that stayed awake, his relief that you were going to be fine overshadowed by the growing feeling of anger within his chest as he thought of the man who was - hopefully - still bleeding somewhere deep in the dungeons of Cair Paravel.

---

#king caspian #king caspian imagine #king caspian story #king caspian x #caspian x reader #caspian x reader imagine #caspian x reader story #king caspian x you #caspian x you #caspian x you imagine #caspian x you story #king caspian x you story #narnia #narnia imagine #king caspian narnia #king caspian au #caspian au #writing #his favorite place

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unholyhelbig · 5 years ago

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Emisue "I've been dating your sibling but the first time I come over to your house I can't take my eyes off of you"

[A/N: You guys don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for someone to request Emisue]

Title: Sun Struck

Ship: Emily Dickinson/ Susan Gilbert

Read on AO3 | Request prompts here

She didn’t think the sun could burn any brighter. Its rays bathing the yard in a sickly kind of light, one that made soft green grass stretch to the sky to drink up the liquid honey. It reflected off the pools slightly tousled waves and kissed every inch of the girl's exposed skin, slightly angry at the exposure.

She was sprawled out on a beach chair, a towel blocking her from the burning plastic. There was a book resting against her chest, slowly rising and falling with each shuddered breath. She wore sunglasses and had her dark brown hair tied into a messy bun. She must have fallen victim to the warmth and dozed off, hand hanging limply at her side.

Even from here, from her stationary spot behind the fence, fingers wrapped around the frayed top, Susan Gilbert could barely contain her heart's gaze. It was the sun- she told herself, the undeniable heat scraped away at the base of her stomach because, and only because, of the sun. The cloudless sky forgiving any mercy that would be given on a day such as this.

“Sue!” Austin’s excited voice pulled her from her lull, his wet feet slapping against the pavement like a child chasing down frogs in the swamp. Waiting to pull their slimy bodies from the murky water. Staring into those slow-blinking eyes before releasing them. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

He kissed her then, slow and with intention. Over the fence as his free hand fumbled with the latch on the door. He tasted like chlorine and sunscreen. His hair wet had scooped back into a messy design. She smiled into the embrace and struggled to keep her grasp on the plate of crackers and cheese that he insisted she not bring- but she had anyway. Out of courtesy for the Dickinson family and their larger than little cookouts.

She nearly turned the invitation down just a day before- he had leaned against her locker with that charming and boyish smile of his. So excited about the prospects of her meeting his family. Something that scared her- because Mrs. Dickinson was the picturesque PTA mom who had shown up to every bake sale and fundraiser. A trophy on the arm of the great Mr. Dickinson.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she beamed back at him.

Austin opened the door and invited her into their lavish backyard. It accompanied the house, looming and in one of the richer neighborhoods that Amherst had to offer. A mansion compared to the little apartment she shared with her aunt and niece in the west part of town.

There was a large awning that had a table set up, covered in food and drinks and enough supplies to accommodate the entire neighborhood. Not just the five of them. A speaker was playing soft pop ballads and Austin worked quickly to take the plate away from Sue and set it among the other food.

Mrs. Dickinson stumbled with grace back onto the patio, carrying a crystal bowl of potato salad perfectly seasoned and prepared. She wore sunglasses herself, quickly pulling them away from slate eyes and looping them around the collar of her bathing suit.

“Oh my!” She feigned shock, setting the bowl down, her coverup swaying in the slight breeze. “You must be Susan!”

“You can call me Sue,” She accepted the handshake that was offered to her politely with a smile. “Thank you for inviting me, you have a very lovely home.”

Mrs. Dickinson eyed the girl from head to toe and then did the exact same thing to her son, who was standing a few feet away with hopeful eyes and his lips wedged between his teeth. “I like this one, keep her around.”

The two of them seemed to let out a collective breath. The woman of the house had a final say, and the Dickinson’s, while traditional, still seemed to stand by that. It chilled Sue to the core, waiting with anticipation about the final verdict, the final pang of the gavel. She felt Austin wrap his arm around her shoulders, his heart not pounding so fast.

“Mr. Dickinson is stuck at the office,” She spoke, pulling the cellophane wrap from the nearest plate of corn. “But he sends his condolences. He loves these cookouts and promises to make it up to you!”

Sue nodded but couldn’t deny the utter relief she felt. One parent was enough for the day, one parent and the stranger that was lounging out by the pool. Probably acquiring a nasty sunburn. But she bit her tongue and struck up small talk about what a lovely day it was, and how perfect the weather had become.

Miss Dickinson excused herself to bring out even more food, leaving the two of them under the awning. Austin’s hand traced the small of her back and pulled her close. She watched as a few drops of water slid down his chest and soaked into the hem of his bathing suit. “I knew she would like you.”

“Oh really?”

“Mm,” he hummed, pressing a small kiss to the tip of her nose “What’s not to like? Come on, let's go for a swim before Vinnie and Joseph get back. They’ll absolutely hog the water.”

Lavinia Dickinson- someone Sue had the pleasure of meeting in person once or twice. She had fixed the lighting for an art show that the school organized earlier that year, one of the featured artists was Austin’s youngest sister. She had a way with charcoal drawings and the human figure. Her on and off boyfriend was something else entirely.

Sue let herself be led to the side of the pool, something just as extravagant as the rest of the house- divided into two parts with a little waterfall it the corner for the constant sound of running water. Sue let her eyes wander to the girl, half asleep with the book on her chest. She couldn’t peel her eyes away from the stranger.

“That’s Emily,” Austin said in a hushed voice. “She’s my younger sister, but she’s such a recluse that my parents say they might as well lock her away in the basement with a computer and access to a library.”

Sue frowned “That’s awful,”

“I promise you it’s not.” Austin worked a hand through his hair and Sue lifted the bottom of her shirt, letting the sun press against her bare skin. “Emily doesn’t do people skills very much. The closest she’s ever come to interaction is running the school paper, which no one reads anyway.”

Sue didn’t want to say that she was one of the few that actually picked up the latest issue of the boomerang. It was littered with interesting news that many school papers would be too censored to release. She wondered if she ever read anything written by Emily, thinking that she would remember the name attached to any piece of literature.

It must be hard, she thought quietly to herself as she let Austin drag her into the cold water, living in a house with such a perfect family; a football star son and an art prodigy daughter. No wonder Emily would lose herself in literature.

The girl stirred a few minutes later when the water had stopped being so cold and Austin had dunked himself under the current a few times, shaking the drops from his soaked hair. She stretched her arms above her head, back toned and skin a pinkish-red from the beating of the sun. She lilted her head to the side before walking towards the slightly ajar backdoor.

“Austin,” Sue ran her hand over the expanse of his back “Bathroom?”

“Yeah, through the doors and to the left, the door should be open. You can’t miss it.”

She thanked him and pulled herself from the water, feeling the instant chill of the breeze that the day conjured up and spent a few moments patting herself dry before padding into the house. She didn’t have much time to comprehend the sheer size of the kitchen, much less the stark-white living room that was just beyond another threshold. Mrs. Dickinson was mumbling a conversation into her phone in another room.

Sue breathed in the sterile scent and started to follow Austin’s directions to the bathroom. It was more of a maze than anything, feet cold against the floor. Then a sudden inhale of lavender and sunscreen, and the quick heat of another person’s body against hers. Sun-soaked and warm.

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry-“ Sue stumbled out. Emily Dickinson.

She was taller than Sue expected, about four more inches than she stood herself. Her hair was down now, scrunchie around her wrist as she worked her fingers through it. She was towering and fit and had a bit of sunburn that Sue unexpectedly wanted to soothe. And that smell, that floral scent that could have been the hand soap from her bathroom or her natural odor- but it was alluring all the same.

“It’s fine,” Emily raked her dark eyes over the expanse of Sue’s body. “You’re that new girl my brother has been talking about bringing around.”

“I would like to hope so,” Sue rushed “I’m Sue and oh, sorry for running into you.”

“You apologize too much,” Emily decided with a small smirk, but she sidestepped, gesturing for Sue to move around her. Both of them careful in their movements as they each took a few paces down the hallway “And Sue?”

The girl turned, staring back at her boyfriend’s younger sister, that stupid lazy smirk and flowing hair and toned body that made her own stomach feel regretfully tight. “Yes?”

“Don’t stare so much,” She responded, lifting her chin “You might make Austin jealous.”

#Emily Dickinson #sue gilbert #susan gilbert #emisue #Emisue fanfiction #Hailee Steinfeld #ella hunt #huntfeld #dickinson #austin dickinson #lavinia dickinson

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blog-sliverofjade · 4 years ago

Text

Hearth Fires 11: Keeping Score

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 5467

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the unmatched pandabearer

FROM: Zayaan Derici <email redacted>

TO: Lorel Maddox <email redacted>

October 12, 2083 2:30PM

Subject: SweetCheeks Bakery Account 66274

Dear Ms. Maddox,

You are hereby notified that on October, RainFire Inc. did acquire the fixed rate loan account #66274 filed under SweetCheeks Bakery on July 15, 2083.

Effective November 1, your monthly payments are to be made directly to RainFire Inc. as per the attached form.

Sincerely,

Zayaan Derici

Lorel strode into the lobby with a sheaf of papers in hand and murder on her mind. Behind her, the door shut on a whisper, sharpening her ire. She wanted it to slam, the disturbed air would shift her curls, announcing her presence in a terribly dramatic fashion. Then it would have been easier to hold onto her usually short-lived temper. As it was, nerves made her more likely to giggle at the absurd mental image.

The surge of outrage Lorel rode died a little more to give way to awe at the ultra-modern design of the office. To the left, a bank of windows overlooked the river below. Bright green sofas and chairs were laid out at precise angles to maximize the sleek lines of the furniture and to provide the best views of the water.

A stream of smooth rocks flowed between the seating arrangements and along the window. Grasses, ferns, and other plants of varying heights and colours sprang up from the meandering path to soften the austere effect of the furniture and lend an air of privacy.

The entire place was obviously designed for people accustomed to roaming the mountains and woods, not sitting behind a desk for eight hours a day. Her scuffed and flour-dusted black canvas sneakers on the mottled wood floor sounded loud and out of place in the open space.

The woman at the front desk was as sleek and modern as the rest of the office. On the wall behind her, succulents formed a living mosaic of colours and textures that seemed to serve as a frame for her stunning features. Thick wiry hair was pulled into a large puff on the top of her head, which accentuated her high cheekbones and willowy build; its texture and shape reminded Lorel of a fluffy, black cloud. The bateau neckline of her ice-white sheath dress showcased collarbones sharp enough to cut. If Lorel tried to wear anything like that, she’d look like a marshmallow on legs.

Her own dress with its pumpkins, bats, ghosts, and candy corn felt woefully out of place. Oh well, it was too late to run home and change into something more professional; the elegant woman behind the desk already spotted her, not that, that was a difficult feat considering her fanciful outfit stood out like a sore thumb.

“Hi, how can I help you?” she greeted Lorel with a small, polite smile that flashed a hint of perfect, brilliant white teeth in fascinating contrast to her deep cool-brown skin.

“Please tell Alpha Denier that Lorel Maddox is here to see him.” Lorel tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the bite out of her tone; the woman wasn’t to blame for Lorel’s mood.

“I’ll see if he’s available.” She didn’t bat an eye at the hard edge in Lorel’s voice. She was a leopard, Lorel could tell by her scent, and obviously accustomed to working with cranky, predatory changelings.

“It’s all right, Shantanna. I’ll see Miss Lorelei.” A shiver ran down her spine, like it always did, at the way he drawled her name as if it was something delectable that he wanted to savour.

The RainFire alpha stood in a doorway off to the left, practically filling it, with his hands in the pockets of his grey wool slacks. His black leather shoes with perforated embellishments reflected the ambient light and probably cost more than her entire outfit combined. A sky blue shirt set off his sun-bronzed skin and brought out the amber of his brilliant topaz eyes that threatened to take her breath away every time she met them. The sleeves were rolled up to expose chiselled forearms brushed with sandy hair. It was all camouflage to hide the lethal predator under the trappings of civilization and lull the unwary into a false sense of complacency. She knew well the need to appear human.

With that reminder as to her purpose, she strode past his arm outstretched to welcome her inside and he shut the door behind them.

Muted grey light filled the room thanks to the floor to ceiling windows along the back and left walls. Graceful glass terrariums of succulents hung in a curtain across the right-hand wall; the globes were strung, several to a strand, from clear plastic tubing that appeared to act as a watering system. A square, grass-green rug took up the centre of the floor and showcased his desk. She wanted to take off her shoes and dig her toes into the short, dense pile that mimicked a patch of moss, maybe even stretch out on it to nap in a sunbeam. The silly urge snapped her out of it and back into reality.

“What is this?” She spun towards Remi and thrust the document she'd been clutching in his face. It was a bit worse for wear from the way she'd clenched it in her fist on the way over to the building that served as headquarters for RainFire's commercial enterprises.

“It appears to be a notification of service transferral, specifically a commercial loan.” Most people tended to instinctively flinch when someone yelled and flung something in their face. He did not. Brows the colour of burnt butterscotch rose. “If you don't understand, I’d be glad to go over with-”

“I know that!” she snapped. “What I want to know is why?”

“It’s a common business practice that allows financial institutions to-”

“Really?” Folding her arms, the paper further crumpling in her fist, she glared up at him. It was really difficult to glare imperiously at someone taller. “RainFire coincidentally buys my debt less than a month after your ultimatum?”

“You must think rather highly of yourself to assume that we’d go through that much trouble for a small business loan.”

The fire in her eyes went out so suddenly that they looked dead. Merde, even her spray of curls seemed to wilt. The jibe was meant to get her dander up, not destroy her confidence. The mistake was his for treating her like a dominant predatory female, like someone who could hold their own against him. A series of faces flickered through his mind like a movie, each one as hurt and as closed off as the one in front of him, a veritable parade of submissives who’d been crushed by indifferent dominants.

By a heartless alpha.

He could act as if he hadn’t just bruised her sense of self and avoid admitting fault, thereby preserving his pride. Or he could admit he fucked up and try to repair the damage he’d done. Female pride was important, no matter their position in the hierarchy. And yet an alpha had to be respected and whose strength was unquestioned. Without that, the natural aggression of dominants would tear a pack apart.

When faced with situations like the one in which he found himself in now, he asked himself what his father would have done. Then he did the exact opposite. That decision-making process hadn’t steered him wrong thus far.

“Any leverage, no matter how small, can be used against you. RainFire won’t exploit that, even if you decide against us.” Light returned to her eyes as she mulled over his words. He just wished they lit up that way when she looked at him instead of darkening with irritation.

He leaned against his desk so as not to loom over her. She barely came up to his shoulder, the perfect height to tuck her into his side. Kissing her, long and deep like he wanted to, would probably give him a crick in the neck, but the globes of her ass would be perfect to haul her up. Her curves were like a backcountry road, one that he’d like to explore by moonlight, and would be a soft cushion for a hard male body. And she could wrap silky thighs around his hips…

“This isn’t about me as much as it is having an unknown element in your territory with a weakness that leaves me vulnerable to your enemies. By removing that, it lessens the chance that I’m coerced into espionage or otherwise manipulated into acting against RainFire’s interests.” Her scowl smoothed as she followed the ramifications in her head to their logical conclusions.

Mais, he wouldn’t have thought she was devious enough to come to that conclusion.

“Being blindsided like this makes me less amenable to cooperating with RainFire, let alone acquiesce to your proposal. If you have any other concerns, please air them now, Alpha Denier.” She went to brace her hands on her hips, remembered that she clasped the paper in one hand when it crinkled, and shoved it into a pocket in her voluminous skirt.

“I told you not to call me that,” he growled.

“You asked me not to call you ‘Mr. Denier,’” she corrected, her eyes laughing at him. His own cat laughed with her, amused by the characteristically feline logic.

“And to call me Remi.” He tapped her nose with a finger just as he would if she were a misbehaving cub. Nose wrinkling and eyes crossing, she shook her head slightly as if she’d never been tapped on the nose before. Come to think of it, she probably couldn’t remember such a fond gesture from her parents. By the way the ocelot glared out at him, it understood and wanted to take a swipe at him for the audacity.

He watched the woman smother the cat until he almost couldn’t sense the animal anymore in her smoky blue eyes.

“You might want to take a seat,” he scrubbed a hand through his hair and gestured to the pair of slate grey armchairs that faced his desk. Perhaps he should’ve suggested she remain standing instead because that was exactly what she did, folding her arms and settling her weight more evenly in her stance. The semi-feral kitten gave him a hard stare. It wasn’t half-bad, kind of cute, actually. “Have you ever heard of the term ‘rogue’?”

“It happened to RedRock,” she nodded. Few people whose lives were shattered by rogues could be so matter-of-fact when speaking of it. Those affected by rogues, no matter how tangentially, tended to feel the wounds for years. Then again, she had been quite young at the time, her parents were probably little more than scents and impressions in her memories.

“You weren’t much older than Jojo when RedRock disbanded, were you? You were away visiting your grandparents. Did they ever tell you what happened? Or did you look into it when you were older?”

“Everyone went rogue and slaughtered each other, my father killed my mother.”

There was so much bullshit in that impassive statement packed around a grain of truth that he didn’t know where to start. He was too blunt and direct. He had no idea how to gently destroy the lie she’d been told her entire life. Not that she was likely to trust him if he was oblique about it, anyway.

“We’re taught control as cubs, how to balance the animal with our humanity because we are neither one nor the other, but both.” He held his hands in front of him, palms up, raising one and lowering the other, then reversing until they became even again to mimic balanced scales. “Without that foundation there’d be more rogues, those of us who become mindless with bloodlust. They’re fast, cunning, and will slaughter anything that moves. The number of changelings who go rogue is less than one percent. It’s not a virus or bacteria, so it’s not contagious. The chances of an entire pack going rogue are astronomical, you’d have better odds of winning the lottery and being struck by lightning on the same day.” He couldn’t calculate the probability in his head, but the metaphor was apt enough.

“Your father was a sentinel, he died protecting your mother. She was protecting the ten-year-old son of the rogue from his father. See, when a changeling goes rogue, they attack their loved ones first, some say it’s to sever their last ties to humanity. Animals will kill for three things: food, mates, and territory, which is really an extension of the first two. Humans are the only ones who kill for emotional reasons like anger or pleasure.”

“I don’t believe you.” She sank into a chair, hands folded so tightly together the bones pressed white against her already pale skin. Despite the shock, she focused on one of the succulents, eyes flicking back and forth as if she was reading rapidly or flipping through memories in search of something.

“I expected as much.” Going behind his desk, he fished something from a drawer.

“What happened to the boy?”

“He’s alive and well, with a mate and kids of his own now.” Circling back around, he handed her a slip of paper with a name and phone number on it. “He’s looking forward to hearing from you.”

Accepting it with a trembling hand, she tucked it into a pocket, still not looking at him. Ignoring the leopard, who was pushing at him to take her in his arms and comfort her, he stepped backward to give her space.

“Is that what’s happening to me? Am I losing control of my animal and going rogue?” Her voice was thin and brittle, sending his protectiveness surging to the fore. Hands tipped with short, blunt nails smoothed the fanciful fabric of her dress over her knees. He didn’t like the way she was avoiding his eyes, not due to the hierarchy, but because she was afraid. Only the knowledge that she was scared of the answer and not him kept him civilized.

Crouching, he took her hands in his. They were cool and faintly damp with a speck of what looked like indigo frosting dried in a cuticle. By contrast, his were too big, rough, and bore the marks of a lifetime working with his hands. He gently pried her cold, stiff fingers open to reveal four fresh puncture wounds on each palm. The leopard brushed against the inside of his skin, wanting to lick the wounds clean, to soothe her. It didn’t care that such an animalistic act would likely send her running for the hills, or at least it would if those hills weren’t full of changelings.

“I won’t lie, you’re on the edge.” An ashen tinge spread in stark contrast to the constellation of her freckles. “Sometimes they can be brought back before they kill, but once they cross that line execution’s the only option.”

“You’d kill me if it came down to it?” Grey-blue eyes fixed on him with an intensity that struck him with a palpable force.

“I would hate you for forcing me into it, but yes, I would. So do us both a favour and behave.” Her rigid posture eased a fraction. What kind of person felt relief at the prospect of being put down like a rabid dog? And what kind of alpha would threaten someone so far down the hierarchy? “We can help you find your balance.” Satiny wrists warmed under his stroking thumbs and he thought that her pulse might have kicked up a notch.

“No thank you, I wouldn’t want to catch your fleas.” She pulled her hands from his grasp. Apparently, she was feeling more herself again if she was hiding behind jabs.

The leopard sneered. It did not have fleas.

“Ever heard of the words cut, nose, spite, and face?” He rose to his full height and folded his arms. “Tien can help you with remedial lessons. She’s used to teaching the cubs and juveniles and she should have no problem with a mule-headed ocelot. Or, if you’re afraid she has fleas- and I’d love to see you tell her that, I’ll make popcorn- Jojo might do it. After all, she does have better control than you do and even though she still shifts sometimes while clothed.” The change disintegrated everything one wore and children had difficulty remembering to remove their clothes, especially while excited.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” she said primly and rose to her feet, somehow looking down her nose at him despite their disparate heights.

“You’re not driving anywhere.” He didn’t step back out of her personal space, she was close enough that her body heat arched up against him like a housecat.

“Excuse me?” A red-gold brow arched. The response was so frosty it would have done a psy credit.

“You’re upset, distracted, the cat’s fighting you for control, and there are open wounds on your palms. What if you hit someone because you’re too proud to accept help?” Automatic sensors dotted the main roads, but not all of them. And there were plenty of pedestrians and children about at this time of day. “I’ll drive you home, where’s your car?”

“Even if I let you drive my car, how will you get home?” She folded her arms.

“I’ll have someone pick me up.” Remi held out an open hand.

They stared at each other for a moment. Finally, she sighed and slapped a ring with a couple of keys into his hand, a tiny knitted chocolate brown cupcake dangled from it; multicoloured beads dotted the frosted, mint green top like sprinkles. The sight of the cutesy decoration made his lips twitch. Fresh blood tinted the air and she winced, the punctures no doubt aggravate by the sudden movement. He selected the car fob and motioned for her to precede him out of the office.

“Shantanna, I’m headed out for the day,” he announced, shutting the door behind him.

“Don’t forget you got a meeting tomorrow at the sheriff’s office at ten,” his office manager reminded him without looking up from her computer screen. Although she could be amiable and make visitors feel welcome, she preferred not to disturb her workflow with unnecessary social interactions. Dealing with visitors wasn’t her favourite task, but one she performed well. That was fine by him, he didn’t need chirpy greetings and a smile every time he walked through the office. “And those contracts needing signed.”

“Thank you, have a good night.”

Still absorbed in the project she was working on, she made a noise that he’d learned over time meant “you, too.” Lorelei looked perplexed, no doubt having met Shantanna’s public-facing persona on her way in. Since she was a potential packmate and he was escorting her out, in Shantanna’s mind, that meant it was acceptable to dispense with the pleasantries that didn’t come naturally to her.

Their footsteps echoed around the empty stairs that wound through the centre of the building. Light spilled from the dome skylight above and onto the mustard coloured leaves of the birch tree that staircase spiralled around. In the vestibule, she paused to admire the wall of moss and gnarled wood and he took the opportunity to send a text. With a small smile on her lips and wonder in her eyes, she reached out to gently stroke the living sculpture; like most visitors, she was fascinated by the integration of green spaces into RainFire’s headquarters.

“This is amazing,” she breathed.

“Biophilic design is one of RainFire’s specialties,” he explained, holding the outer door to the parkade open for her. “Rain and greywater are filtered and recycled, reducing our dependency on municipal water. Where are you parked?” She pointed to an older midnight blue sedan down the row on the left and he suppressed a grimace. The best quality that particular model was known for was its paint job. He cocked a brow at her. “You drive this deathtrap? Is it even hover capable?”

“Of course it is, just not currently. Plus I can fit a three-tier wedding cake, groom cake, and six dozen cupcakes in the back. What do you drive, this example of a desperate need to prove one’s superiority via more horsepower than a single person could possibly use?” She gestured to his car.

“At least my car’s battery isn’t known to spontaneously catch fire, unlike yours.” He opened the passenger door for her and she slipped in as graciously as a queen, ignoring him entirely.

Crossing to the other side, he frowned at the driver’s seat. Obviously, he couldn’t fit with the seat positioned for her much shorter height. Even after resetting it, he still felt a tad claustrophobic behind the wheel. Her scent, honeyed with a hidden bite, filled the enclosed space and his body tightened in response as sexual hunger sank its teeth into him and refused to let go. Ignoring the pulsing heat in his veins, he guided the POS out of the parkade.

“Your meeting with the sheriff, that’s not about what happened the other day, is it?”

“No.” The habit of covering a potential weakness, one ingrained in him at an early age, and the driving need to protect those most at risk of abuse, which had developed later in life, warred with each other. In the end, the latter won out. That she should come to harm when he could have warned her was unthinkable. “One of ours was attacked, we believe it’s because he was dating a human.”

“Oh my god, I heard about that, but I didn’t know he was a leopard. Who was it? Is he ok?” She brushed his arm with a hand as if instinctively wanting to comfort him, but snatched it back as if burned, the ocelot probably warning her that he hadn’t given her skin privileges yet.

More importantly, she’d just intimated that she’d be open to skin privileges and probably didn’t realize it. The leopard grinned in a decidedly wolfish way.

“Stian, he sore, yeah, but he’s healin’ good. What I hear, his ex's good, too.” Now that he was out of the office and driving, even if it was a disaster on wheels, he relaxed and slipped into the Cajun accent like an old, comfortable sweater. Although she probably wouldn’t understand a word if he slipped fully into his native dialect.

“Blond, beard, looks like a Viking and a surfer had a baby?” Hands moving like they often did when she spoke, she gestured to indicate Stian’s artfully tousled hair.

“That’s the one,” he chuckled at her description. He'd have to tease Stian with it later when he wasn’t hurting emotionally. Braking as they approached a red light, his heart skipped into his heart when the car didn’t slow. They came to a hard stop a second later when the pads caught. “Did you know your brakes are slipping?”

“Yeah, there’s a hiccup sometimes, just lightly tap the brake pedal,” she waved dismissively, ignoring his incredulous stare to smile at some Halloween decorations in a storefront. “You said they targeted him because he was with a human?”

“They were pretty clear on that point.” Not that he was about to repeat any of that filth where she could hear. The light turned green and the car rolled into the intersection despite the pressure he applied to the pedal, then jerked forward a moment later when the transmission decided to get with the program.

“Huh.” From out of the corner of his eye, he could see her chewing on her lip. Whatever was on her mind, it most likely wasn’t her ticking time bomb of a car.

“What?”

“Something Irena was telling me.” Pink lips twisted to find a new spot to nibble on. The safety alert beeped to warn that he was exceeding the speed limit. Snapping his eyes to the road, he dismissed the alarm with a swipe of his thumb across the pad on the steering wheel. While his biometrics weren’t programmed into the main system to allow him to unlock the doors or start the ignition without the fob, that sensor was capacitive.

“She and another crow from StormWillow were shopping at that makeup boutique a few blocks up the street from me. The owner was the only one working at the time and she asked them to leave their purses at the front counter, said it was store policy. Chloe and my aunt have been in there before and there were never asked to do that, I asked them. If that wasn’t enough, she watched them the entire time like they were going to steal something. Then she followed them outside and took down their license plate as they drove away. A cop pulled them over on their way home because the owner reported them as shoplifters. Of course, he didn’t find anything.”

“Were they municipal or county?”

“Um, county sheriff, I believe. Doesn’t that mean they’re out of their jurisdiction by responding within city limits?”

“You know about the psy Enforcement scandal?”

Scandal was a mild term for the abuses of power psy brass inflicted on human officers and civilians. The ones who believed themselves superior to humans manipulated evidence and minds alike with impunity to achieve their goals, which were usually more power and wealth for them individually and as a race. Along with emotions, the psy were re-discovering things like morals and conscience. Those reluctant to do so were held in check by their kin.

“Of course I have.”

“A federal task force set up teams at the state level, and they’re working from the top down. They’re starting with the most densely populated areas and working their way through the state, North Carolina’s currently working on Fayetteville. Some branches have already started to clean their own house. The chief of the BCPD was strongly encouraged to resign before his skeletons were dragged out of the closet for all to see. The sheriff was recently elected on an anti-psy platform and he’s taking advantage of the power vacuum to expand his influence.”

“Are there any changelings in local Enforcement to balance the situation?”

“RainFire doesn’t have enough dominants to spare, even if they were of a mind to,” he shrugged.

“Have any of the non-dominants expressed an interest?”

“They’re not trained and they don’t have the instincts.”

“Did you even ask? Or consider the fact that they might know what your views are and don’t want to be dismissed out of hand? I’m pretty sure that Enforcement provides training," she said sarcastically. "And instincts aren’t always a good thing, sometimes they’re really just subconscious bias. Look at what happened at the bakery; their lizard brains probably told them I was dangerous because I was an angry changeling, but they didn’t act on those survival instincts. Non-aggressive personalities can be beneficial when it comes to de-escalation. If the sheriff hadn’t been there, the entire incident would’ve been resolved in twenty minutes.”

Lorelei was right in that he hadn’t discussed it with the pack as a whole, it had only been a brief discussion during a meeting with soldiers and sentinels. Had he discredited anyone who wasn’t at least a junior soldier? Submissives tended to fight only as a last resort, serving as the final line of defense for the cubs; just because violence didn't come as naturally to them as dominants didn't mean that they weren't capable.

Some of his disgruntlement must’ve shown on his face because she patted his shoulder with a reassuring smile. It was a visceral example of a submissive's calming nature. She could be rather sweet when she forgot to hiss at him. Too bad he was anything but calm around her.

Remi’s presence filled the space, brushing up against her like a housecat. See, I’m harmless, my claws are sheathed and my teeth are put away. He was unbelievably dangerous, but for now, the beast wasn’t interested in hunting.

“You’re looking at it from an alpha’s perspective, not a human one. In the human world, they don’t have roles like soldiers and they’re not born with healing abilities like M-psy. They study and train for years, instead, who’s to say a changeling can’t do the same? Besides, even I can handle an unharmed human or psy and I have no training whatsoever.”

“Hard enough telepathic blow could still kill you.” The muscles of his forearms shifted tantalizingly as he guided her old hatchback through a turn. The intensity that always lurked beneath the surface translated into a passion for driving. It was obvious in the smooth way he maneuvered through traffic, an unhurried focus on the road, and the faint smile on his lips.

“So could a gun. And either could kill you, too, all they’d need in your case is the element of surprise.”

The edges of the woods peered over the houses on the left where they turned into her sleepy suburban neighbourhood on the outskirts of town. Halfway to her house, they paused for a game of street hockey to make way for them, the teams consisted of all three races. Some of them she recognized and she waved, they waved back. Her heart clenched at the thought of harm coming to any of the children.

The bungalow she shared with her aunt was a two-story nestled in the arms of the forest, its patchwork of brilliant colours glowing with the setting sun. They pulled into her driveway and she fumbled with the seatbelt. Manner, which had been drilled into her from a young age, dictated that she invite him inside to wait. He probably would feel as comfortable in her home as he did behind the wheel of her car, which was to say not at all. She'd had to hide a smile at his obvious discomfiture in her car; the hatchback had never felt small until he'd practically had to fold his massive frame into it.

Would he read something more into an offer of coffee? She didn’t know if she hoped he would, or dreaded it.

They got out of the vehicle and he met her in front of the car to walk her the short distance to her front door. The cupcake keychain Chloe made for her looked positively diminutive in his palm, which was warm and slightly rough with callouses under her fingers despite her attempts to avoid touching him when she took it from him.

“Thank you for making sure I got home safely, Mr. Denier.” What did one say to a man who'd decreed an ultimatum, bought her loan out from under her, then promised to kill her if she went on a murderous rampage? She fell back on the safe familiarity of etiquette.

Stepping towards her, he held her widening eyes.

She found herself pasted up against the closed door. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood in innate awareness of the big, dangerous leopard in human skin pressing up against her. They were alone and he could probably hurt her in ways she couldn’t even imagine before she could blink, but the fever in her blood was from anticipation and not fear. She felt small and intrinsically feminine as he braced his hands on either side of her head and bent until their breaths mingled.

“Don’t thank me for doing my job,” his voice bordered on a growl, thick with the leopard. “And I told you not to call me that. I’ll have to keep a running tally.”

“Of what?”

“Your transgressions.” His eyes went half-mast, letting her know that the threat was sensual and not punitive.

Slowly, so slowly, he closed the distance between them. At any time, she could have said no, or ducked underneath his arm to get away; instead, she held still as though she might startle him. He slanted his mouth over hers and she was glad the door was at her back because swooning was a real possibility. It wasn’t due to butterflies or fireworks, although those were definitely happening. The warmth of his lips on hers, his tongue coaxing her to open for him, the taste of him filled the howling void within her. Her hands rose unbidden to his chest, needing more contact, there was too much air, too many clothes between them. She wanted to gorge on him until she was no longer empty inside.

Remi pulled away and she wanted to growl and haul him back down to her, but movement in the driveway caught her attention. A rugged vehicle designed for rough roads such as the ones on RainFire land pulled up.

“Il faut je m'en vas, cher.”

And with a sinful smile, he stroked a thumb over her cheek, turned, and walked towards the car, leaving her staring after him, speechless.

Il faut je m'en vas, cher - I have to go, dear

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srbachchan · 5 years ago

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DAY 4163

Jalsa, Mumbai July 31/Aug 1, 2019 Wed/Thu 1:02 AM

Birthday Ef - Sheetal Patel .. August 1, 2019 .. all our greetings and love for Sheetal on this special day .. from us all at Ef world .. 🌹

Involve yourself in work other than the profession and you find yourself addressing the issues as it were to be the enactment of the character played in film on shoot ..

.. happens ..

acceptance is a great virtue .. it be prudent to accept and agree and leave the rest, for them to figure who have been left with nothing to argue debate disagree with ..

deliberate ignoring never works .. it demands a great amount of performance skills to be able to pull it off .. not to say that it be a difficult task .. no never .. the acumen of the most unknown is the edifice on which humanity rests .. ever ..

.. Ef messaged : ‘ISRO informs us that : ‘चाँद की फ़ोटो किसी भी बीवी से मैच नहीं करती !!’ ।।

ना जाने कितने गाने, हमारी फ़िल्मों में सूरत , और चाँद का टुकड़ा लेकर बने हैं ।।

ISRO , the Indian Space Agency informs us that the picture of the Moon does not match any wife’s face ..🤣

A lighthearted little something that came to me on the social media platforms that I work out off, and am taking the liberty of posting it here, not to create any controversy but to have a gentle smile on your face , when it has past the midnight hour ..

That this little adventure shall eventually find its way in the august pages of the print media by the morrow, there isn’t a doubt, but there is but one revert -

Language has the uncanny habit of turning its tail up to defy defend accept or ignore the spoken or written word .. these observations - and it shall be wise to term them such - shall of course bring up the troll creativity of the mass and wither it down to being a ‘confirmed misogynist, and being worthy of the name’ ..

hehehaaahahah ..😁 .. the word ‘misogynist’, came to my ears as early as the days in Sherwood .. our sister school All Saints was on a hill across ours along a valley, that was for obvious reasons out of bounds .. but the bravado of youth would tempt many of us to scamper across during playtime to go visit the girls across a guarded ‘wall’, where some of us ‘privileged’ seniors would get to talk to them .. just a very noble social event .. BUT , not in permission of the School laws and therefore up for punishment .. on one such occasion of the visit to the ‘wall’ , a few of us got caught and were given six of the best and stopped from any further ‘leave’ from School .. the School term end was in November after the exams were over and while our results were being checked and complied and marked the School had a week of free days .. we were allowed to do what we felt like doing .. no studies, no classes .. nothing .. but of course all this within the School compound !

At the time of leaving School for our holiday our Vice Principal, Mr Thomson, an accomplished teacher and musician would design what was a Farewell Concert for the School, where the entire School would participate in various fun loving acts depicting the course of that year in School in the 9 months that we were there ..

Invariably there were fun songs written .. and the song done for the 7 of us that were caught at the ‘wall’ , all in good humour , was a sing along ditty which talked of the term ending and packing our boxes to get to Kathgodam the train station at the base of Nainital from where all of us would be put on trains to our respective cities and homes, for a jolly holiday .. and one of the lines for the 7 of us went ..

‘we’re now confirmed misogynists, and worthy of the name,

we’d rather run a thousand miles than meet a blooming dame ..😁

the adventure of attending a game, thank the Lord, worked out well for us today .. I normally do not even see the TV on such occasions for fear that when I see we loose .. the WC2019 semi final being one such recent example .. so .. i desisted .. but SON, wanted me to come along to the Kabaddi game tonight and off we went .. and we WON .. !!

NOW the team management wants me to attend all the games ..🤣

SO .. whether its India and Cricket or Chelsea at Football or any sporting event, when the like minded sit together at the TV, pop corned and soft drinks invested, its a world of its own .. and being at the Stadium is another World all together .. !! .. if ever there were to be a demonstration of common emotion, that would be it .. WC Football in Brazil, or Russia .. cricket and the lot .. and more .. the unity of dress in the Team jersey, the cheer slogans .. the unanimity of sound in the same vein and direction, could in a collective moment, move a few mountains .. !!!

Its a spirit found no where else ..

bring thy spirit then to the cause of generosity to each other ; to give succour, to amend paths ; to rise above in unison and cheer for humanity at its best .. communication has brought us all the closest we have ever been - and the farthest .. !!

That is the tragedy ..

Amitabh Bachchan

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historymortician97 · 5 years ago

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Green House Bistro (Legitimate Review)

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Green residence bistro review

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#restaurant #review

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moonlit-nightingale · 5 years ago

Text

.:RP:. Cursed

Warning(s): Trigger warnings for suicide and blood.

Characters: Saranqerel ‘Sari’ Qalli (male Xaela), Akio Obinata (male Xaela), Botan Kurenai (female Raen)

Origin Date: 22 Feb 20

“Death is easy. To live is the most painful thing I could imagine and I’m weak and no longer willing to fight.” —Hannah Wright

Everything is in place. Sari has left his farewell letters and wrapped up his affairs. And so he goes to depart in the quietest way. Though a new friend picks up the signs too late...perhaps the Qalli’s story isn’t over yet.

(Note: This is from an RP session. So there is a back and forth of writers. A - in between paragraphs indicate a change in narrator.)

< Hingan >

> Xaelic <

----

A letter and small box would have been left outside Akio's room a sennight after his and Sari's last talk. Enclosed within the envelope are two documents. One is a letter, one is an official document endorsed by a Gridanian embassy, complete with a corn-yellow seal. It states that Akio is, legally, Enqtani’s legal guardian. There is also a small box like those used to sell the tokens at the charm counter.

My friend,

I know we haven’t known each other long so please forgive my selfish requests especially after I’ve placed such a burden on your shoulders. Enqtani is loved by many at the temple, however I haven’t seen her attach to anyone as closely as you. It has been a short time but a child just knows. The sealed document is official documentation that you are now Tani’s guardian. It may just be a piece of paper but with it I’m trusting you to look after her best interests in my absence.

You have been kind and a wonderful friend. And I have the utmost faith that you will be a kind and wonderful father for Tani. You mentioned once that she should know her roots. There is little to tell. I found her abandoned on the Steppe during a hunt. All I can surmise is that she was a child conceived unwillingly. She has features or the Oronir tribe which were once the leaders of the Steppe and still hold themselves in high authority over others. Not all of them are bad but it is a privileged tribe. I expect you can follow my path in thinking of what may have occurred. If Tani wants to see the Steppe with her own eyes one day, seek out Khenbish of the Buduga at the town of Reunion. He is a healer and a good man. If you can’t find him, search for Yesulun of the Qestir and her mate Khaljar of the Oronir. They are among my dearest friends even if we have parted ways. Unfortunately I am unsure of their whereabouts but their names should be known in Reunion.

Ah, but I’ve rambled on. I wish to make this process as easy as possible for you. Please rely on the others if needed. Mr. Aoki is a stern man but he has looked after Tani many times when I needed assistance.

It is little payment for what I ask for you, but I hope this gift is acceptable. Thank you, Akio, and I thank you on behalf of Tani.

Winds carry you,

-S.Q.

Inside the box, carved from a reddish wood, was a crane. Its wings are spread, every feather meticulously detailed in its carving despite the small size as its long neck and head were raised high in a cry. The figure could rest on a grown man’s palm.

Akio's shift for guard duty had ended earlier than expected, that night. And though he was tired, the Eastern Xaela had been in a surprisingly good mood, that ever-present smile a little more genuine as he took long, measured strides to his quarters. A good night's rest after some meditation sounded absolutely splendid to the man.

The presence of the letter and box caused the samurai to pause, however, tail quivering just slightly in alarm as he watched it with keen black eyes. But with heightened guard, there was little worry of it being any sort of trap or bait; he kneeled, slowly, picking it all up and entering his room.

In the privacy of his quarters, he allowed the mask to slip from his face; a frown pulled at his expression as he opened the box, looking over the figure with a delicate awe, and then the letter, reading over the words swiftly.

What laced through his blood could only be described as ice-cold panic as he realized what these words meant.

A Hingan snarl dropped from his lips as he spun around on his heel, movement swift as he threw open the door and bolted down the hall towards Sari's quarters. No doubt the man would want to do it there; the clinic was far too impersonal, and even from their short time, he knew Sari would never wish to inconvenience the clinic staff or distress the patients there.

Thank the Kami he was relieved when he was- it gave him some small hope that this time he may not be too late.

But no, the room would be empty if he should knock and try to enter. The wards' rooms couldn't be locked. It was part of the temple's design. Why would a ward of this place have secrets to hide? The futon would be folded neatly in a corner and the room immaculate. Sari never really had too many personal effects and it seemed even those were gone.

The only thing left was a small bundle of letters, left for whoever may have peeked their head in.

Another swear, and he turned on his heel, heading for the clinic itself. If Sari wasn't in there... He had no idea where to look. But he wouldn't stop looking.

His rush nearly made the clinic's night time attendant eep loudly. There was something about an empty clinic in the dead of the night just just spooked this particular Auri young lady.

"Obinata-san, kami help me." She rested a hand over her chest.

Akio paused, examining the lady for a long moment; the mask was back on in an instant, though the smile was strained, showing just how much of a rush she was in.

"Have you seen Sari-san?" he asked quickly, tone leaving little room for questions.

That tone has the girl nearly eep once more. She shook her head. "Ah, I mean, he came in earlier for a few moments to tidy up and then left about a bell ago."

Tidy up? Why on earth would he need to tidy up the clinic?

"Did he say where he was going? This is- he must be found." He'd apologize to the poor girl properly later- no doubt he was an intimidating sight, agitated as he was.

"He is planning to kill himself."

She covered her mouth at those words. "Sari-san? But..." He was always so kind! And quick to help when she'd taken over the clinic duties just a sennight ago!

"I-I don't know. I thought he was going to visit a patient because he took supplies for the intravenous bags!"

"Intra..."

Akio murmured as he went over the word in his mind, taking a moment to translate it before another swear fell from his lips. Without another word to the poor attendant, he spun on his heel and ran out. Where could he be?!

Perhaps he left the temple grounds? But if he did, it made it nearly impossible to find him. Unless...

But Jebe never left Sari's side, and so the little bluebird would be little help, even if Akio could find the bird in time to find Sari to keep him from doing the irreversible. Damn it...

His mind was racing as he ran through the temple grounds, searching for any clues to where the Qalli might have gone.

As he went by the gardens, there was angry chirping nearby. At this time of the evening? Odd. It was near the small pond where Sari often took Tani to play when she had excess energy.

The bluebird was puffed in anger, flying about the small cage propped up on a rock. It was placed near the walkway, enough that some attendant would have found it the next morning and not endangering the small bird at all.

Akio froze when his horn caught the angry chirping, head snapping over.

The Kami were merciful this day! He rushed over, kneeling down with a soft clicking noise as he fiddled with the latch to open the cage.

"<I am here,>" he said quickly, throwing the cage door open for the little bird. "<Take me to him.>"

Oh angry birb was angry. He instantly dive-bombed Akio's face before flying off at a surprisingly quick pace down the stone path that led out of the temple.

Akio made a short 'pbbth' sound out of reflex. Hey, he was trying to save the man!

But he didn't have time to be offended at the little angry puffball, instead darting after Jebe as fast as the two of them could go.

How could such a small lil blue puffball be so quick? Jebe darted over Shirogane's infrastructure, heading down the slopes towards the beaches. Even then he still flew, heading away from the beach chairs, the awnings, away from what would populated areas in the day.

The beach... Water...?

It would be out of the way, for certain, leaving it near impossible to find the body. Was that what he'd wanted?

Akio was nearing breathless as he kept on the tail feathers of the small bird, eyes searching for the Qalli in an almost desperate fashion.

Rocks dotted the sand in some of the more remote parts, harder to climb and navigate over, rougher terrain.

And that's where Sari sat motionless. He was leaning against one of the rocks facing the water. The IV line ran to that flesh arm, put in with an expert hand. The sedative bag he'd stolen weeks ago was empty, rigged up over a stick.

At least he could watch the water he enjoyed under the silvery light of the moon as he’d fallen asleep.

No no no no no no no no!

Akio felt as if he'd been kicked in the chest by An Yeung, breath leaving him in a wheeze as he scaled over the rocks. Normally, he wouldn't have so much as slipped, but tonight he stumbled once or twice, hands flying out to keep himself moving forward.

"<What have you DONE?!>"

The question came out in Hingan, far harsher than he'd meant it, a near roar as he slid to one knee next to the Qalli. The damnable idiot! The stupid... Poor, pained man.

Akio knew better than to let anger lead him to blame. He knew what this was like. But Sari deserved better. To die like this....

"<You're not dying tonight!>" he hissed sharply.

But it appeared to be far too late. Sari was a healer of both traditional and aetherial means. He knew well enough of what would happen with a fast drip of a sedative of this nature. A sleepy death, far more peaceful than what he'd deserved. No mess for others to worry about if his body was found.

He hoped no one found him. That those letters were enough.

But those hopes were gone. His breathing had stilled, no rise and fall of his chest under the Eastern cloth. Silvery hair obscured most of his face, that one eye closed, head lulled against the rock and his shoulder.

Akio had been too late, by far, it seemed.

No...

Once more, Akio found himself holding a body in his arms, the Xaela quick to gather the Qalli to him as he tried to check for his pulse, his breathing, anything. Teeth gritted against an all-too familiar pain, he snarled, tail lashing against the sand and rocks. Fingers curled into the fabric, head lowered as long blonde locks fell over both his own face and Sari's chest, forehead pressed to his still breast.

"<No, please,>" he whispered, pleading, begging. It was all far too familiar, and the mask cracked, old wounds bleeding once more as he hunched there.

"<You silent, selfish fool.>"

He knew it wouldn't be heard. Knew the Qalli wouldn't be able to retort.

"<What of Enqtani?!>" he yelled now. "<You were her father! No one will replace you in her life!>"

It was quiet for once.

A quiet he used to only be able to find in the peace of the Shroud's embrace, days on his own in the Twelveswood. Soon though, even that place became haunted to his memories. There was always...something. Something to drag the Xaela back to the dark.

So he'd given up fighting it. Fell into sin and the bottle without care.

And it was why he finally had the resolve to fade away. He was a ghost. No one would care. Everyone had their lives, their loved ones, their families. Perhaps he was envious. But he was also glad for them.

So he'd smile and wish them all well, even as he faded from their thoughts. And he'd be left to the grey shadowy mist that had become his life. Ever since that day he'd walked into that empty house, a newborn in his arms.

Ever since he'd knew, with certainty, that a happy ending never awaited a ghost.

'>You fought me with such ferocity before. Where is that beast now?<'

The drums, he knew this from before. Before when they had met, it had been a raging river, blood, and mud.

'>I am most disappointed. I cannot allow my vessel to fade in such a pathetic manner. Show me that ferocity, that fire.<'

And suddenly Sari shot awake, falling to his side and away, retching. Breaths forced into his lungs, some force pushing that deadly toxin from his body in no way that should be possible.

Akio let out a small, muffled noise of surprise, eyes widening as he let go and nearly jumped back, hands up. What the...

He'd been dead... Dead! There had been no breath in his breast, no pulse underneath his fingers! And so he stared, wide-eyed and startled. How...?

He didn't speak, hands lowering, before one placed itself gently on the other male's back, some minute attempt at comfort.

Oh it burned, it hurt, yet was so unbearably cold at the same time. Shudders wracked his slender frame as he retched again and again into the sand. Toxicity was black on his lips, something having gathered all that poison he'd given himself and thrown it out in some unnatural way.

By the time he stilled, he was breathless, gasping for air and covered in sweat. Still not fully grasping what had happened.

An exhausted look to one arm that propped him up. The IV was still there. Then...what had happened?

"<You're alive...>"

If it weren't for the breathless awe and disbelief in Akio's tone, one might think he'd been answering Sari's unspoken question. But he wasn't; he was trying to affirm the truth for himself, in his own eyes. Sari was alive. Somehow, in some way, something had saved him.

Even he knew this shouldn't have been possible. And yet here he was, breathing, if barely. "<Easy, Sari-san, easy.>"

Sounds were beginning to return outside of the wild pounding of his heart echoing in his horns. The sound of the waves over the surf, a familiar voice. Sitting up, shaky, he saw Akio at his side.

He rubbed his mouth with a wrist, still feeling that sickening bile there. "...Akio-san... How..."

It was night, he hadn't been...out...long then.

"Why am I not..."

Gods, had he failed at this too? Could he even not kill himself correctly?

"You were," came the answer, soft and haunted, but he smiled, despite the pain in his eyes. "And now, you are not... I do not know why. I do not know what happened."

He sighed, pulling off the top part of his kimono to drape it over the Qalli, reaching to gingerly take out the IV. It was freezing out, especially at night by the ocean, but...

He didn't seem to mind, simply holding Sari's arm to stop the bleeding from the injection site.

"Why would you..." he trailed off, hesitating as deep black eyes flitted over to Sari's face.

"... What pain you must endure," he finished with a soft murmur.

...why? Why couldn't he even do this right? His throat tightened, foul taste still in his mouth. Had he guessed wrong? No, a full bag at that rate of drip, it couldn't have been metabolized in time for him to live. And if what Akio said was true...

A harsh swallow as the other Xaela tended to him, Sari not fighting it one bit. His own mask was in shambles, magitek hand going to cover his face as a sob escaped.

"...I just wanted it to be over," he strangled out. "I don't want to be here anymore, please."

Akio paused at this, a small frown pulling at his features as the mask slipped once more. Ah... What should he do?

He knew that people would need to be informed. The priests, for certain. Perhaps the guard, and the clinic staff. Those who would be able to keep an eye out, an eye on the man.

And...

He knew it was improper, but he'd spend enough time in the West that he was able to cast aside his upbringing's teachings for a moment to simply... pull the man into a tight hug.

"...You are much too desired in this world, to leave it so," he murmured softly.

"That's a lie!" was the sharp denial and he wanted to fight the hug so badly but he had no strength to, even more so as the tears flowed from that one blue eye. "They all leave, they always live, no one stays. Love doesn't mean anything. Not with me. I'm all alone."

The words he'd held back for so long, for years, gushed forth without stopping. Every little thought that had passed through his mind, that he wasn't good enough, that he wasn't worthy, that he was unwanted.

Akio didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to soothe the pain the Qalli suffered, or how to comfort him. So he simply sat there, for the time being, holding Sari, rocking him back and forth and shushing him gently.

"<You're not alone,>" he answered finally, wiping away those tears with one thumb. "<Through all the pain, you are not alone. Your death would leave a hole in the hearts of many, one that could never be filled again. I know not what words to say to convince you of this truth. I can only speak it plainly.>"

He let out a breath, cradling him as Akio sat there, eyes closing.

"<I'm not lying. I promise this.>"

"It is a lie. You're lying. I'm sorry." An instant apology at the accusation but it was true. Everyone lied.

Even as he listened to those Hingan words, his spilling out of words continued in Common.

"He said that, too. He said I'd be safe. That I could cry. That we'd be happy. And that he'd never leave me. It was a lie, again and again it was a lie!"

Voice rising to a wail, uncaring of who heard, how much a mess he was, damn his mask.

"<Then he was a liar, and a fool, and he never should have held your heart in his unworthy hands.>"

And still, Akio rocked, gently, like the ocean they sat beside as he held the wailing Qalli, holding him securely in his arms.

"<But you have family. Family, and a child, and friends, all of whom adore you and your presence.>" His words came across far better in Hingan; he didn't mind that Sari spoke in Common. He understood him, and so he could get across his meaning better. That was what mattered, just then, to the Eastern Xaela.

"<I'm sorry that you weren't safe... You deserved to be. You have always deserved to be.>" A small, gently squeeze in that hug, the taller man curling over the smaller just slightly. "<If only I could find him and force him to his knees to beg your forgiveness.>"

No no no no no. It was still lies. No one wanted him about unless they needed him for something. And Sari wanted to be angry but he couldn't be. They'd found happiness. He hadn't. He couldn't fault his friends that had found peace.

But it was godsdamned lonely when he'd been so close to the same and it had drifted like smoke through his fingers.

"...n-no. He left because I wasn't..."

Good enough? Worthy?

"<Because why...?>" came the gentle prodding, one hand rubbing Sari's back gently.

"<If you say it's because you weren't good enough, then you view yourself too poorly.>"

Exhausted, face red with his tears and sorrow, he rested his chin on Akio's shoulder and nodded. It was true. He was disgusting, used, weak. That was why. Not smart enough, strong enough, charming enough, brave enough.

"<I refuse to believe that,>" Akio retorted firmly, resting his own chin on Sari's shoulder. "<Whoever this weak-willed man was...>" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"<I don't have the words to describe the kind of filth he was.>"

"No, he..." His hands weakly rested against Akio's back. "...he was good. I just wasn't...meant for him. I trapped him."

That's what the bonding had done. Khabi had seen what a weak person he'd tied himself to. That's why he'd left, right?

"<If you simply were not meant for each other, then why did he not say so?>"

Akio shook his head. "<If he wasn't able to tell you such things, to talk to you about it, he was weak.>" He pulled back, looking at Sari with a firm expression, mouth pulled into a frown as he stared the Qalli in the eye.

"<It is not your fault, Saranqerel.>"

...it was. It always would be. Why did everyone always leave? There was only one constant in all of that. Those words threatened to spill out but he was so tired, so frustrated that he couldn't even do this deed right.

Shaking his head, Sari looked to the sand. How could he still be crying?

"Can you..." Shite, he was fighting hiccups. "...leave me here?"

"No."

The word was spoken in Common now, as he shook his head. There was no way in the seven Western hells he was about to leave Sari alone right now!

"I am afraid I cannot do that."

"Please."

How could he go back now? Everything was in place. Things were finally ready. There was finally going to be quiet.

But there was little fight left in the Qalli as he begged. Just let him rest where he wasn't a burden to anyone.

"Iie," he repeated in Hingan. "You may rest with me. But I will not be leaving you alone. This is final."

Akio's tone left little room for argument- or at least that was the intent. He didn't know what else the Qalli might do, but he was damn sure not going to let him try again.

"...you'll leave...in time."

That was a guarantee. Just wait it out. Like everyone else. As he relaxed his hold on the other Xaela, his hand brush the hilt of that katana the samurai had at his waist.

A weapon he'd learned to use from someone else that had abandoned him, turned against him. There was a flash of anger somewhere deep and before he knew it, Sari went to draw that blade in a swift motion as he leaned back. Quickly he got to his feet, though stumbling a bit as he did so.

There was the softest 'sorry' as he raised the blade, going to drive it into his chest.

Akio swore, and in an instant he was on his feet, surging forward to grab at Sari- the sword, his arm, whatever he could grab.

Likely the sword, and the razor sharp blade would cut into his fingers, a pain he would brush aside in favor of throwing the sword away from the Qalli. "<ENOUGH!>" He bellowed.

It was just a bit too late, that magitek arm giving the former Adder the strength advantage.

...yes, pain. But it was nothing he wasn’t used to. The sword impaling him through and through before Akio ripped it from his grasp.

...had it been enough? He sunk back down to his knees in the sand.

Akio snarled, throwing the sword away now as he grabbed for Sari. If that was how it would be, then so be it.

He was swearing up a storm that would make a seasoned sailor tremble in fear. His goal would be to pick up the Qalli and rush him back to the shrine.

"<I will NOT have your blood on my blade!!>"

No! A return of that snarl from the smaller Xaela.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Anger rising to meet anger. Everything had been arranged. It was time to go. He swiped with the claws of that weaponized arm but he was already feeling faint, unable to fight it when the samurai lifted him from the damp sand.

"I will not abandon you," came the snarled reply as he bolted over the sand and rock, booking it as fast as his legs could go.

He needed to call ahead, but his arms were full, and so he simply ran, pushing until his legs burned then pushing further.

The anger soon faded as the blood loss began to drain him of such things. Soon his head rested limply against Akio's chest. ...and then again he gasped for breath violently, so much like before.

No no no. Could he...not...

>A small spark of that fire, not nearly enough. Impress me, child of the moon.<

Once Akio finally reached the shrine, he burst in through the door, offering a silent apology to the resident Kami. Any damages would be repaired later, the Xaela was on a mission.

He called out for the night clinic as he rushed to it, ground Sari as if he were the one dying.

That poor young woman was still there and anxious. But at least she had a good enough head on her shoulders to have things ready for the worst. And when she saw the two Auri men, and that blood, she directed Akio to the closest bed.

"...I can't die," Sari mumbled.

"No, you cannot," came the response, though Akio misunderstood what it was Sari had meant, immediately rushing the man to the nearest bed and setting him down, immediately backing up to give the woman room to work

. He looked haunted, tail lashing violently as he stood there. "Anything I can do to help, instruct me."

There was the sound of books falling over in the back. Botan had been given a room, and yet...she was asleep under a blanket that was under a pile of books, half beneath the low sitting table. A yawn left her as she stretched herself out and nose wiggled at the scent of blood. The shadows eager, but she stilled them. Least another ghostly movement spook another clinic worker.

She got up, dressed in the standard shrine attire she had stolen from the common rooms. Her wooden sandals clicking on the floor as she approached. "Assistance needed?" She inquired with unblinking eyes. "It seems the answer is 'yes,' but will not invade unless wished for."

That tail was still, lips in a straight line, and eyes unblinking as she stood before the scene without an iota of emotion portrayed.

Ah the poor healer never ceased to he spooked by Botan, even after knowing she was there!

"Yes, please. This may require stitches."

Though Sari was obviously dazed by the blood loss, he knew...he knew. Why hadn't he died on the Steppe before being found by Khenbish? Had that plunge in the river, those drums...what Shonkhor had seen.

Not a crazed vision?

Akio simply bowed his head and stepped out of the room, remaining out of the way of the two medics as he stood against the wall, closing his eyes.

Blearily the Qalli tried to get his bearings. The familiar scent of the clinic. He'd been in here just bells before... His mind was still reeling from the revelation. If that's what it was and not some nonsensical shite.

Botan was in the room. No ceremony to the matter. Just pulling out a pouch of the pain killing incense from her sleeve and filling the bronze incensor before lighting it on fire. Then she was sitting over Sari. Her hands resting over that wound in the gut, fingers lingering over it as she focused on the composition of aether and murmured calculations on the fly as she steadily studied Sari's biology through the geometric patterns she etched in her mind.

Every bit of her form was still. The shadows seemed to withdraw, shrinking in towards her and feeding into her power as she focused. They were every bit an extension of the small raen woman.

To her eyes, she may have seen the shadow that had curled itself tightly into Sari's aether. Foreign, spread evenly through every aspect of the Xaela and content to be where it was. Oddly dormant, just...there. It was nothing like the near feral aggressive curse of the kitsune that he'd suffered from for a good year. In fact, that curse has been completely obliterated by this new presence.

Botan was aware of that presence, but did not disturb it. No. She would simply work around it, add it to her calculations, and apply new formulaic patterns of aether into Sari's own. Those that would encourage flesh to stitch itself together and slow the bleeding. Her brow creased and lips pursed together as calculations were rumbled off.

If it would not allow her to heal him, she would simply brute force her way past it. That or she would show it who the scarier creature was. Not that she thought she could bully something like this...something far older than she; a mere raen youth of twenty-some-turns.

Oh the presence didn't fight the healing, no. In fact it held strands of aether close, not letting the flesh fall into death. A threshold of sorts. Sari could very much end up close to death but that final step into the lifestream wouldn't be taken.

Interesting.

The work was slowly finished and her fingers pressed against the fabric over the wound. Those digits dipped in blood and eyes open again as she sensed how flesh gave way to her calculus. There was no grin of victory. No whoop of astonishment.

No.

This was peculiar. Curious. The violet false eye with its mandala like patterns fixed on Sari.

"You have ventured far and brought shadow back with you."

The pain killers helped sooth her own pains. A twist in her gut told her she had pushed herself too far aetherically, but she ignored it. That tail ticked and she lifted her hands away to look at the blood. No blinking, just...rubbing fingers against one another.

"Fate is not done with you yet, Saranqerel." Then she looked at the woman. "Clean. Stitch the surface wound that remains."

Then there was a yawn. Botan was ready to retreat back to where she came. Like some horror slinking away into their closet until the next time someone had need of her and her arcanistry.

The Auri nurse watched with some nerves. How could one not be unnerved watching Botan work? But she nodded and went straight to work. Ritsuka didn't hire weak-willed employees, after all. Especially for the clinic.

The stitches were made evenly, front and back where the blade had pierced. Then wrappings about his middle. And, in some irony, an IV attached for fluids and antibiotics.

Putting everything away and washing her hands, she went to peek out into the hallway. "Obinata-san, he'll be alright."

Akio turned his head, and, mask back in place, he smiled, despite the blood that coated his front. It wasn't anything he was unused to, and so it didn't seem to bother him. At least, now that Sari was okay.

"You have my deepest thanks," he said with a low bow.

Botan just looked at Akio. The raen quiet, and unmoving in that moment before her stomach growled to cut into the moment.

All she said: "Beef Udon. Three sets."

Akio turned his head to look to the other Raen with a chuckle and another bow. "My thanks to you as well- if it will serve to repay even a small portion of my debt to you, I shall see it done."

He turned then, setting off unless stopped, to go get that Raen some damn beef udon.

Botan sat on the stool in the room, and just waited. That tail swishing. Good. Though her attention was fixed on Sari again. Academic curiosity in that gaze.

The nurse was sure to return the bow with a smile before returning to the clinic. She had to write everything in the changeover log for the day shift and what supplies had been used...as per Mitsue and Mashuel's rules.

As for Sari, he drifted in and out of awareness. But that gaze on him pulled him more to reality. He tiredly looked over, pale and a mess from his sobbing earlier. "...can you see what it is...?"

"A thing of the Steppe. This is what their old knowledge tells me..." A hand lifts and taps one horn. Though the shadows are watching. "Well it is my knowledge now."

This is a reference to the Xaela back in the Steppe she had first aetherically devoured to fix her own aether. With it perfectly assimilated she was back to the pale flesh and red hair rather than that ugly dark complexion she never liked. Not that she was a vain creature. Not like her mess of a dead father.

"It is what kept you alive."

"...then it wasn't a nightmare." Slowly he pulled the sheets up to his chin. Ugh he was utterly drained on every other possible level. "I can't die then."

Of course...of course. The one solace he could bring to himself, denied.

"Death is not an escape." Botan said in an observant matter. "You simply pass the burden of pain to those you leave behind." A flick of the tail. "Look at your friend who tried so hard to fight to keep you alive too."

"...he shouldn't have."

Why? Yes, he and Akio had had some good times. But they'd known each other for a few moons. Why would he...bother?

Botan didn't even frown. She just fixed her unblinking gaze on Sari. What a dumb question. The tail flicked and she simply breathed deep of the pain killing smoke.

"Every life is precious, even those that are destined to be eaten." Botan explained. "It's not about the why and the who, it is about the preciousness of that gift. The holiness of that cycle."

"I don't want it..."

How was any of this a gift? Being left alone again and again. Never being granted a happy ending...

"...can you check on Obinata-san? I think he hurt his hands earlier."

It was just then that Akio entered once more, hands wrapped to keep that blood from getting into the udon.

"I do believe I have a delivery!" he announced, far too cheerful for what had happened and how he'd felt not a quarter bell earlier.

He smiled bright, looking to Botan as he held the noodles. "Where do you want me to put these?"

Botan looked at Akio.

There is something broken in this one.

Though she at least kept the thought in her head and didn't blurt it out with the same heavy handed honesty she served Sari. That ivory tail flicked, and hands reached out for the udon. In an instant she had the chop sticks plucking up a swirl of the good beefy udon to take a bite.

Any harsh words of knowledge were lost for now. She would just chew and think. Though she did look at the wrapped hands.

No it required none of her energy, let the other woman handle it.

Meanwhile in the bed, Sari had to look away. Hand clenched in the sheets. How could he look at Akio after that?

Fortunately he was saved as the nurse came by after cleanup to see that blood. "Obinata-san! What are you doing? Over here!" She grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him over to a medical station.

Akio had opened his mouth, wanting to speak with Sari- but then he was dragged away, and he laughed slightly. It would be easy for him to resist, but he let himself follow as if he were no stronger than a child, tail fluttering behind him.

"Hai hai, my apologies miss!"

Botan had a moment where she felt like laughing, but didn't. Though her gaze went back to Sari.

"Fate, the Twelve, the Kami, or whatever has given you something, Sari. An opportunity." She moved chopsticks lazily through the soup, gathering noodles. The fat things rolled around through the beef brother as she seemed to play with her food. "An opportunity that you can take, face them down with, and carve your way through the hell you've been given. The question is," she lifted the roll of noodles hanging from the chopsticks, "will you tear down your tormentors, or let them devour you?"

Those eyes looked to him unblinking. "After all, the thing attached to you does look delicious."

"Then take it." There may have been a bit of a snap to his tone.

Botan shook her head. "Looking delicious and wanting to eat it are different things." Udon noodles were slurped in not-so-graceful a way. "I want to see you challenge your path, Sari. Show whatever gods there are in this world that you will not sit under their heel no more. That is what I really want, because you're a dear friend not a morsel."

"I don't give a shite about any of that!" he snapped, fangs bared.It seemed sorrow had warped to anger.

He covered his face. It was so unlike him to be like this.

No one understood. No one got that he was so bloody tired!

Akio, from where he'd been taken by the nurse, looked up. It hadn't been hard to hear that in the quiet of the clinic. How he wanted to go to the poor man's side, offer him some comfort, even if he didn't want it.

A soft sigh escaped him, and he looked down once more, to watch as the Raen woman did her work.

Botan shrugged. The girl wasn't going to push back and forth with him, and simply moved to stand. There was a look at Akio, and she just left the room to go back to her hiding place in the back room to finish her noodles and get back to sleeping. It wasn't her place to fix broken minds and hearts after all.

The Auri nurse was very obviously troubled with the back and forth, but unsure of what to say. So she kept to bandaging Akio's hands, both disinfected and wrapped firmly.

"There. I know it's difficult but try to limit as much use as you can. Ask for help in tasks, alright?"

Akio smiled warmly, tilting his head to the side. "Hai," he said with a playful sort of reluctance. "If I must trouble others, then I shall under the doctor's orders." A crooked grin given to the Raen woman, before he stood with a bow of thanks, making his way back to Sari's bedside.

The Xaela's anger still simmered but there was no one to direct it towards and it quickly fizzled out as he stared out the window. A cold rain had started, obscuring the moon's light over Shirogane. Depressing. Fitting.

"Sari-san..."

The name was soft, gentle, as Akio watched the other Xaela, expression turning sympathetic, perhaps almost sad, if not for that smile staying in place. It ill befitted the scene.

That burned side was closest to Akio, hiding the one good eye which closed at the sound of his voice.

Anger that he'd been stopped.

Anger that, even if he hadn't been, it wouldn't have meant anything.

Sorrow that someone had to witness all of that.

It's why Sari had slunk off and away.

"...I'm sorry. You should take some painkillers and rest."

"I am not leaving you alone."

Despite the gentle tone, it was, once again, firm. Resolute. Akio simply watched as he sat there, watched the Xaela stare out the window, at the rain.

He wanted to be angry, himself, but he couldn't bring himself to be. He was just.... sad. He wanted to help, even if the two of them were near strangers.

"I will be perfectly fine," he added now, tail curling to one side as he leaned back, smiling. "It is nothing I have not endured before. Perhaps less so."

The Xaela chuckled, tilting his head to one side.

"....I am sorry to have stopped you, Sari-san..." Once again that quiet, gentle tone. Almost regretful, but not quite.

What could he say to that? That he accepted the apology? No.

He'd wanted to go. He still did. But that wasn't an option anymore.

....so what did he say?

"Please don't tell anyone else. I don't want to..." Deal with it.

They'd care for a few moments, fuss over him. Then fade back into their happy lives once more. He didn't want to ne envious, bitter. Sari was glad those he knew had found peace. But...he'd wanted it too.

"...You need help."

It was a quiet observation, the Xaela almost frowning. Almost. He couldn't let the mask drop again, not like that. By the Kami....

He lowered his head, hands folded together against his forehead as he stared at the floor. What did he answer with? He couldn't just not tell the priests, or Ritsuka. Sari needed to be put on suicide watch, to keep him from doing it again. He needed help....

He needed to want it first, though, this much Akio knew. It was a universal truth to many problems. Someone who didn't want help would only reject it.

"I am certain you are angry with me," he said softly. "And I am certain that you will be angry with me for my answer. But you must understand, I am bound, by contract and honor, to report this."

"Feck honor," was the snap, though he kept staring at the window.

What did honor do? The twisted pride of the Steppe? The samurai code those at Kotodama supposedly adhered to? The Grand Company that had thrown him aside because of something he couldn't control?

Akio let out a breath, brow furrowing now.

"I will not throw aside mine to suit the ends of another."

Grumbles in Xaelic as Sari rolled over despite the pain of his injury. No, he didn't want to deal with this. He may say something more he'd regret.

Safe from death, perhaps, but not safe from the recovery that came of the incident.

Another sigh, and Akio settled back in his chair, arms crossed over his front as he closed his eyes. He likely wouldn't sleep tonight, instead meditating. Some form of rest, while keeping alert.

"I said I would not leave you alone, Sari-san," he said gently. "I mean this, as an oath." And Akio did not break his oaths.

"I didn't ask for your oath," was the grumpy mumble as he pulled the blanket over his head.

Nor did he ask for acceptance. But he didn't voice this aloud, simply remaining silent now.

And silence met silence as Sari tried to sleep. As much as he didn't want to, the stress of high emotions and whatever his body was doing sapped him.

Eventually with the sound of the cold winter rain, his eye shut and he drifted off in the darkness of his blanket lair.

#roleplay

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