#[ SNAP: josephine ]

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

At this moment of reminiscense, Dorian and Elizabeth's eyes met, and their smiles mirrored one another as Elizabeth commented off-handedly:

"I think I'm beginning to understand that feeling."

Walking behind the two younger couples, unable to resist cooing over her sleeping granddaughter just as her mother was, June caught little snatches of the conversation, with certain remarks just happening to make her ears prick up a little more, though she never let her face show what she was thinking and feeling, to say nothing of refusing to give voice to these thoughts. As she had told Lon earlier in the month, she had her theories, but at the end of the day, whatever was on Dorian and Elizabeth Gracey's mind was theirs to announce, and she certainly wasn't going to impede upon that.

At the very least, when the party had made it back to the attic, and Randall and Emily quietly took the twins to their room for a nap, she took Elizabeth aside for a moment, venturing to say, choosing her words carefully, "Well, if you do ever feel sick again, if any nausea or soreness pops up again...please, don't hesitate to come to me. I'd like to help in any way I can."

Elizabeth studied June's face for a moment, remaining calm upon this suggestion being put to her-the matriarch's face was just as calm as her own, and there was a gentle sincerity in the way she smiled at her, to say nothing of something of a mischievous twinkle to her eye, a sort of subtle, knowing look that reminded Elizabeth of her own mother, and the looks she would give her one and only daughter when she knew something was afoot.

But even with that look, the mistress of Gracey Manor knew Mrs. June Pace was a woman she could trust, and so she flashed her an appreciative smile, saying, "If anything comes up, I'll be sure to look to you first. Thank you, June."

"Think nothing of it, Elizabeth."

[codevanish]

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace and so the battleships with sink beneath the waves

[gogogodzilla]

day 8, almost getting caught

cullen rutherford x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, creampie, unprotected sex, war room sex, semi-public sex kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

You knew it was reckless, but that didn’t stop you for a second. You hardly had enough time to say ‘good morning’ before Cullen was off to his duties and you were off to yours. You couldn’t wait any longer.

The moment Leliana and Josephine left the war room you were rounding the table and pulling him into a heated kiss. He paid no mind to the markers you swiped off the map to make room for the two of you, he’d already memorized their locations during the meetings. 

You exchanged heated kisses as clumsy fingers moved to detach the armor and bits of cloth that dared to come between you. 

How you got into this position, back pressed against the hardwood of the table and him moaning above you, was a blur in your lust-filled mind. All you could focus on was how deliciously Cullen was stretching you and how much you needed more, more, more. 

You pulled him closer to you, raking your nails across the broad expanse of his back. You felt his muscles ripple under your touch, and you pressed your fingertips against the now-flushed skin. You wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him to rut deeper inside you, causing you both to let out whines of pleasure.

“Inquisitor,” he groaned against the shell of your ear as he leaned over you, encompassing the whole of your body with his. 

Voices sounding outside the heavy wooden doors of the war room caused you to tense against Cullen and him to stifle a groan against your shoulder. 

“Josie, I’m sure you didn’t forget it,” Leliana’s voice was muffled behind the doors, but you’d recognize it anywhere. 

“I must be sure, Leliana. It’s my favorite quill; I’ll just be a moment,” came Josephine’s muffled response. Cullen froze above you, both of you straining to hear the conversation just outside the doors. 

“I think I saw it in the rookery when you walked up with me, maybe we should start there? I’m sure the Inquisitor and Commander are still discussing important matters.” Leliana’s voice rose at the last part of her bid to lead Josephine away, and you flushed. Nothing could get past your spymaster. 

It was quiet for a moment, and Cullen slowly picked up where he left off, thrusting deeply inside you. The gasp that escaped you when Cullen hit the particular spot that had your back arching against the hardwood was stifled by his lips against yours. 

The thought of getting caught sent a jolt through your body, and you clenched against him. His pace quickened, and you could tell he thought the same.

“Very well, we can check there first,” Josephine replied and the footsteps receded. 

Cullen cupped your face with one hand and, as his thrusts became sloppier, he kissed you. He pulled away after a moment, just enough to look you in your eyes as he fucked you.  With one final snap of his hips, you were coming undone and his name tumbled past your lips. 

He was soon to follow you off the precipice and he shuddered against you as his hips stilled within you. He pushed the hair out of your face and his gaze softened as he looked down at you. 

He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, then to your nose, and finally to your lips. “I missed you, my love,” he whispered against you. 

“Perhaps we should move this to my chambers before Leliana and Josephine come back,” you suggested, a small grin gracing your features. 

A blush spread across Cullen’s face, but he nodded and helped you dress. He was quick to put the markers back into their correct spots and drag you out of the war room to continue your reunion elsewhere.

[missjomarch]

Josephine - Luke Hughes

A/N: This is the longest thing I have ever written. Like actually. I heard the song Josephine by Pony Bradshaw and my brain was begging me to do something creative with it, so I wrote this. But I'm on my period so it turned very sad and angsty quickly. So now you all get to suffer along with me! With that said please please read the warnings and if at any point you feel uncomfortable click away.

Word Count: 3.7k 😳

Warnings: Grief and angst with no real happy ending or comfort. Cursing, crying, mentions of blood and pain. A half second on 18+ content but no explicit details.

(Portions in italics are flash backs. Enjoy, lovelies. 🫶)

Luke Hughes sat sprawled in one of the cushioned armchairs spaced across the rooftop bar the New Jersey Devils currently resided on. His view of the New York skyline was fuzzy, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the beer in his left hand or the smoke from the joint in his right. The one thing he was sure of was that he didn’t want to be here, and he damn sure didn’t want to be sober. Luke could feel the pitying looks from his brother and captain all the way across the bar, but at least they hadn’t made any comments tonight. 

The team had won the game earlier in the day by a large margin and Luke wasn’t beating himself up over minuscule mistakes like he used to. No, that wasn’t the issue. In fact, Luke was playing some of the best hockey he had in years. His on-ice performance was probably the only reason he was even still on the team, considering that he had been skipping most morning skates and all public appearances for the past few weeks. 

He had seen the therapist the team provided and taken the weeks off that the trainers had suggested, so he isn’t sure why they insist on continually doing mental checkups on him. It was irritating. Especially when he didn’t give them the answers they wanted, so they sent Jack to pester him instead. All it did was remind him of you. 

“Luke.” 

His head snapped towards where you sat in the passenger seat of his car, eyes shining and a soft smile on your lips. 

“The light has been green for like 30 seconds, babe. What’s going on in that pretty head, hm?” 

Luke always swore that your sweet voice could melt 20 feet of snow in the dead of winter. It was like coming home from a long day to a warm house. It was one of his favorite things about you. So, because he knew you’d ask the question again, he simply shrugged his shoulders in response. He fully planned to keep his troubles to himself in an attempt not to worry you, but then your manicured hand was running through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me about it, Lu. What’s wrong?” 

With your use of the nickname, he was gone. Suddenly all the world’s problems were spilling from his lips, and he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. You tended to have that effect on people. You were just so damn easy to talk to. And the best part? You almost always knew how to make it better. A quick kiss and a Band-Aid, and Luke was back on his way with a smile. 

“Luke,” you mumbled, “Luke…” 

“Luke.” 

Jack stood in front of his brother, shaking his shoulder to break him from his trance. 

“You okay?” Jack questioned, not missing the shine in Luke’s eyes as they were torn from the skyline view. He watched as Luke took a deep drag from the joint in his hand, exhaling the smoke as he attempted to clear the lump from his throat. 

“Fine, Jack.” 

“Bullshit,” Jack couldn’t help the scoff he let out, “Get up, we’re going home.” 

Luke didn’t have it in him to argue. Not that he would have, anyway. He never wanted to leave the house in the first place, especially after the situation Jack got him into the last time they had gone out. 2 months ago, his brother had dragged him to this same rooftop bar insisting that it’d be good for him to get out there again. It took all of 30 minutes before Jack was pushing Luke in the direction of a random girl. “A good fuck will fix you right up”, Jack had claimed. 

“Luuuuke,” the girl below him moaned as he kissed down her neck. He didn’t know her name, didn’t particularly care to either. He was a bit too busy resenting his brother for setting him up with this random girl in the first place. 

He tried to ignore the hot anger flowing through him, tried to focus on the heavy breathing of the blonde and the way her nails were raking down his back. Luke’s hands dipped under her shirt, quickly finding her bra and giving it a harsh tug downwards. His fingers fumbled deftly until they gripped her tits, drawing a sharp gasp from the girl. 

“Oh! Lu, please,” she whined. When he didn’t respond, she went to pull his face to hers. But Luke had froze, brain short circuiting at the nickname he hadn’t heard in over 8 months. 

His throat was burning. His breath turned ragged as he yanked his hands from beneath her shirt. He stared at her with wild eyes, chest heaving. 

“Get out,” he ground out. His heart was pounding. What was wrong with him? 

“Are you okay?” The blond started back at him with a horrified expression, and Luke had to bite his tongue to keep from spitting out any malicious words. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Leave, please.” He begged, unable to look her in the face.

“Luke, I don’t understand,” she tried to reason, “Luke…” 

“Luke.” 

Jack was looking at him expectantly from the driver’s side of his sleek BMW as he navigated the late-night New Jersey traffic. Luke blinked slowly, trying to clear the bitter memory from his foggy mind. 

“Sorry, what’d you say?” Luke questioned, choosing to ignore the concern blaring in his brother’s eyes. Jack seemingly decided to let it be, instead jumping back into whatever he originally asked. 

“I was asking if you thought the stadium series would be a good time to introduce Sydney to mom and dad? I know it’s only been a few months, but I don’t know when they’ll be in town again.” 

Luke nodded, “Are you just going to do it at dinner? Or the hotel?” 

Jack hesitated, clearly contemplating the options before lighting up, “What if I brought her to the family skate? She’s been wanting to learn anyways! It be just like when you brought jo-” Jack choked on his words, immediately recognizing his mistake. He turned towards his brother, attempting to get a read on his face in the dim light of the passing streetlamps. But Luke had already shut down, face turned to stare blankly out the window. 

Jack reached over to give a comforting squeezing to Luke’s left shoulder, “Luke.” 

“LUKE!” you squealed as your hands white knuckled his sweatshirt. He giggled at your skating stance before pulling you to his chest. 

“You alright there, Bambi?” He smirked down at you as you sent him a glare. 

“I’m new to this, asshole. It’s not my fault my teacher is no good,” you threw back at him. It was your turn to smirk as Luke’s mouth hung open in mock offense. 

“I’ll have you know that I’ve taught hundreds of kids across the state of New Jersey how to properly skate.” 

“Those poor kids,” you quickly retorted, sticking your tongue out as he scowled at you. However, that scowl quickly faded into a look of mischief and your face dropped as his arms loosened around you.

“Fine. Suit yourself, Bambi.” Luke let you go, giving you the lightest of shoves backwards. Then you were stranded. Forced to watch as your boyfriend skated backwards away from you, leaving you wide eyed and terrified as you froze on the ice. Your fear quickly turned to anger, and Luke marked the shift in your demeanor with a laugh. 

“Luke Warren Hughes, you come back here and get me right now.” 

“Nope. Come and get me, baby.” Luke winked at you as he skated past, only serving to further frustrate you. You’d never admit that his plan was working, but the anger was motivating. You let out a strangled groan before starting to shuffle forward, sliding your skates like Luke taught you. You were doing well for a while, slowly making your way towards where Luke was taunting you from the boards behind the net. That was until two kids flew past you, knocking you off balance and sending you scrambling to regain it. 

“Luke! Luke, Luke, Luke,” you called, too focused on your slipping feet to notice if your boyfriend was coming to your aid. Then you lost balance completely, tumbling down towards the ice. You closed your eyes as you avoided flinging your arms out to catch yourself, still heeding Luke’s warnings even as he got you in this mess in the first place. You prepared yourself for the cold hard burn of your backside hitting the ice, but it never came. Instead you landed in a pair of unfamiliar arms, barely recognizing that you weren’t on the ground before being hauled to a standing position. You carefully turned around and were met with Jack’s smiling face. 

“Knight in shining armor, at your service,” Jack grinned, adding a small salute for effect. You rolled your eyes, scanning the ice for Luke. 

“How long have you been following behind me?” 

“Ever since Luke pretended to leave you stranded. He planned the whole thing, I was behind you the entire time to save you from your inevitable demise,” Jack poked you, smile growing impossibly wider at the annoyed look gracing your face. 

“Big words for someone who never went to college,” you shot at him, needing anything to level the playing field between you. It was then that Luke finally returned, skating to a smooth stop to your left. 

“What’d I miss?” 

“Your girlfriend was insulting my intelligence after I graciously saved her precious be-hind,” Jack spoke, adding a bit more than his usual sassiness into the bit. Luke turned to tsk at you. 

“Now, now baby. We can’t make fun of people just because they’re less fortunate than us. It’s not Jacky’s fault he’s stupid,” Luke joked, loving the way your eyes lit up when you realized that he was joining your side. Jack, however, stood slack jawed across from you. 

“Now what the hell, Luke? I went along with your little plan, and this is how you repay me?” You and Luke just blinked at him, silly little grins sitting on your face. “Go to hell, both of you,” Jack scoffed before skating off. Once he was gone, you turned towards your boyfriend. Your pout returned, but it was quickly kissed away. 

“I promised you I’d never let you fall, baby. I just never said it’d be me who caught you.” 

You scowled, “you’re such a smart ass.” 

“Love you too, Princess,” Luke grinned. You begrudgingly allowed him to pull you into his chest, the warmth he radiated melting the glare right off your face. 

You turned your head to press a kiss into his jacket-clad chest, right over his heart. A warm smile graced your lips, “I love you, Lukey.” 

“Lukey!”

John Marino stood before him on the ice, stick poised to do the defensive drill coach had instructed them on. 

“You’re out of it today, kid. Are we going to do this drill or not?” 

“Yeah, my bad. Let’s go,” Luke nodded his head, once again trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He had just barely cleared his vision before the puck was dropped, and John was racing towards him. Practice continued like that, Luke losing focus periodically until one of his teammates pulled him back into the moment. 

When he trudged into the locker room an hour later, he was more than ready to go home. These were usually the days he would most appreciate having you to come home to. Leaving a hard practice and coming home to fall asleep in your arms was the best feeling. He tried not to think too much about the gaping hole that memory left in his chest as he untied his skates. 

Once he was dressed in his sweats he rushed from the locker room, hoping to escape the arena before anyone could question his mental wellbeing. Luke made it to the car without any hounding from the guys or trainers, but he had to wait for what felt like an eternity before Jack finally made his way into the parking garage. 

“What the hell took you so long?” Luke questioned, hopping into the passenger seat as Jack unlocked the car doors. 

“Coach wanted to talk to me for a second. You could’ve gotten the keys from my bag, yknow.”

“Yeah, but then I would’ve been tempted to leave you here,” Luke smirked at his brother. 

Jack only rolled his eyes, all too familiar with Luke’s teasing. His mind swirled with the reminders his coach had left him with after their brief post-practice discussion. Coach was getting extremely concerned about Luke and the lack of focus he displayed at practice and games. Jack was also concerned, and so was most of the team. He knew he should bring it up, but the joy in Luke’s eyes was so rare these days that Jack couldn’t bring himself to disturb it. He just wanted to support his brother the best he could, but Luke wouldn’t open up to him. Or anyone, for that matter. Not his mom, not Quinn, not even his old teammates from Michigan. Luke wouldn’t talk to anyone about you.  So Jack took what Luke gave him. Watching late night hockey, Door Dashing dinner, or playing video games for hours on end. Anything to keep his brother occupied, and make him realize that he wasn’t alone. 

Luke finally made his way into his room at 11 pm later that night, feeling relatively okay after eating dinner and watching a Canucks game with Jack. He had felt so unlike himself lately that any small reprieve from reality was a welcomed gift. He also knew that it helped Jack worry about him just a little bit less. 

Luke had just turned out his bathroom light after brushing his teeth when his door creaked open, revealing Jack standing in the doorway. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to check on him before bed, but it had recently become more frequent. 

“You good to leave for practice at 8 tomorrow?” Jack questioned. 

Luke nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be up.” 

“Better be. I’m not in the mood to drag your ass out of bed in the morning.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but the wary look on Jack’s face made him hold his tongue on the snarky response he was about to shoot back. 

“Promise, I’ll be good to go at 8.”       

Jack deemed that a good enough answer, and went to shut the door.

“Alright. Night, Luke.” 

“Luke…” you shakily whispered on the phone. Your voice was wobbly and high pitched, the tears streaming down your face evident in your tone. 

“Baby?” Luke spoke into the phone, “What’s wrong?” 

It was an hour and a half until puck drop, and you should’ve been on your way to the stadium by now. Luke’s furrowed brows caught the attention of Jack in the next stall over, stopping his movements from where he was lacing up his skates. 

“I was on my way to the arena, and I…” a broken sob escaped your mouth, startling Luke as he tried to fathom what could’ve possibly happened after he left the house. 

 “Someone hit me.” 

Luke jumped to his feet, “What do you mean hit you? What happened?” 

“I don’t know. Someone ran a red light or something and they hit my car. I think I spun into a pole,” your breath was growing ragged as you recited the wreck. 

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’m coming to get you,” Luke rushed out as he began grabbing his clothes back out of his bag. Half the locker room was staring now, all with varying looks of concern. 

“I don’t know what to do. I’m bleeding,” you squeaked. “Lukey, there’s so much blood.”              

This sent Luke into a panic. He was stripping his gear as fast as humanly possible while simultaneously yelling at Jack to give him to car keys. Jack’s concerns fell on deaf ears as Luke undressed, and he finally decided that following Luke was the safest option. 

“No. You’re okay, baby. I just need you to tell me where you are, okay? I’ll be there so soon, just tell me where,” Luke begged. He knew logically that the cops would arrive before he could, but he needed to be there with you. 

“Don’t know. But my head hurts so bad,” you whimpered out. Luke tried to ignore the way he could hear your voice weakening as you spoke. 

“Just stay on the phone with me, love. I’m on my way to come get you, yeah?”

Luke tried to reassure you as he shoved his feet into his shoes and rushed from the locker room. Jack was hot on his tail, car keys in hand. 

“ ‘m sorry, Lu,” your whisper was barely heard by Luke as he sprinted down the hallways of Prudential Center. 

“For what, love?” 

“I wanted to be at your game tonight,” you mumbled. 

“It’s fine, baby. There’ll be a million more games for you to come to, yeah?” 

Luke attempted to comfort you as he searched for your location, plugging it into the GPS as Jack pulled out of the parking garage. Luke could only hope the pregame traffic wouldn’t get in the way. 

“Mhmm. Lukey?” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

Your voice was barely a whisper, “I love you.” 

Luke swore he could feel his heart shatter at the crack in your voice. There were tears streaming from his face as he pushed Jack to drive faster. 

“I love you too, princess. So much. Jacky and I are going to be there so soon. I just need you to hang on for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?” 

Luke’s voice was frantic and only grew more so when he heard your phone tumbling out of your hand. 

“Baby? You’ve gotta stay awake, okay?” Luke pleaded, as tears streamed down his face. His hands shook where he held the phone to his ear. 

“Baby? Please tell me you’re okay. I just need you to say something.” 

Luke’s begging continued until the line went dead. 

“Fuck,” Luke muttered, sobs beginning to wrack his body. Jack looked at him frantically as he continued to navigate the streets of New Jersey. 

“Luke? What the hell happened?” Jack kept spitting questions, but he might as well have been talking to a brick wall. “Snap out of it, Luke.” 

“Luke.” 

Luke awoke to Jack shaking him violently, and he tasted the salty tears streaming down his face before he felt them. ‘No. Not again,’  Luke thought. He shot up in bed, sending Jack scrambling backwards to avoid knocking heads. Luke’s head whipped back and forth wildly as his eyes searched the room. ‘Please, please, please,’ he begged the universe. He ignored the way his brain reminded him of the truth, ignored his brother’s pitying look, ignored the cold bed beside him where you should’ve been. It was if the whole world was pointing and laughing at his grieving heart. ‘Look at this idiot,’ they all seemed to say, ‘He still thinks he can save her.’ 

“Fuck,” Luke exhaled, finally giving up his futile attempts at disproving what he knew was his reality. 

Jack stared as his younger brother lost himself to grief once again. Watching as Luke’s hands disappeared into his curls, head bowed as sob after sob wracked his body. Jack felt helpless knowing he couldn’t take this pain from his little brother. All he could do was hold him and promise to be there through it all. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” Luke whispered into Jack’s shoulder. “Every time I wake up, I lose her all over again, and I can’t do it anymore.” 

Jack hesitates, unsure exactly what to say in this situation. You were always the one with the best advice, the one who could handle anything. 

“We’re going to get you through this, okay? You’re not alone in fighting this,” Jack paused, contemplating how to suggest his next thought. “I know you think you’re fine, but I really think you need help Luke. She would want you to get help.” 

Luke nodded, knowing his brother was right. You would hate to see him like this. Ever the caretaker, you had always been the first person to chastise him for not taking proper care of his mental health during hockey season. If you saw him like this, you’d pull him into your arms and then absolutely rip him a new one until he promised to take care of himself. 

“I know,” Luke mumbled, “I’ll start seeing a therapist. I think I need to step away from hockey for a bit too. It’s not fair to the guys that my mental health is affecting the team performance.” 

“I think that’s smart,” Jack agreed. “The guys might not understand what you’re going through, but they know it’s not your fault Luke. They want you to get better too.” 

Luke could only nod, trying to accept Jack’s words as the truth and fight the part of his brain that was saying this was all his fault. Luke was so tired, but he wasn’t willing to go back to sleep when he knew memories of you was what awaited him. 

“I’ll call the trainers tomorrow. I don’t really want to go back to sleep, can we watch a movie or something?” 

“Of course,” Jack agreed, despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “I’ll even let you pick.” 

A slow, knowing grin spread across Luke’s features, “Even Secretariat?” 

Jack’s sigh could be heard all the way in New York, but he smiled nonetheless. Just happy to see that Luke was making small steps towards returning to himself. 

“Even Secretariat.” 

So that’s how Luke and Jack spent their evening, watching movies and eating obscene amounts of popcorn. Luke had smiled to himself for most of the night, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. He knew the process would be slow and that he might never truly get back to ‘normal’. But admitting his pain and asking for help, that was enough for now. 

[bucketsofmonsters]

Where the Light Enters - Part 1

cw: unreliable narrator, hurt/comfort, slow burn, eventual sex, enemies to lovers, past childhood sexual assault, past sex trafficking, referenced noncon, offscreen dubcon, happy ending, the tags look scary but this is mainly a story about recovery

Cole/Female Inquisitor

word count: 4k

ao3 link

Masterlist

She’d chosen the templars.

It seemed the better option. Or at least the less vulnerable one. 

Frankly, she'd barely understood what a templar was a few weeks ago. The mages seemed upset about them, but surely there were more important things than that in a war. Besides, she'd rather hide herself behind a trained militant force than these rogue witches. 

She still didn’t really understand them if she was being honest. She knew enough to see that people were afraid. No matter how evil the templars may be, at least they were stable. Maybe that was enough. 

She had hoped, assumed even, that Cullen would be doing this part. That she’d point at the templars on the map and he’d set off with his less than stellar army to collect them. That the man who’d been advocating to bring his old comrades into the fold would do the legwork and return with the mage killers and she’d be just that much safer. 

But no. She’d pointed at the map and then been sent off. They hadn’t even given her time to complain. 

Not that she would’ve. It would have ruined her perfectly crafted image of the sweet doe-eyed girl that ensured they wouldn’t throw her to the wolves. The one that changed her from a tool to a manipulable, scared girl. 

She was fine with being manipulated. So long as they thought she was weak-willed, there was no reason to hurt her. She just had to ensure that whatever was best for her was the path of least resistance for them. 

Besides, it wasn’t like she wasn’t returning the favor. The little notebook buried deep under her floorboards ran through the easiest way to get to all of them. Not to endear her to them, just to make her safe. She’d foster pity, camaraderie, desire, whatever would keep her in their good graces for the longest. 

She was always harmless. That was the one thing she had to be. Harmless above all else. Any sign of competency turned to threat under anything but the softest light. 

And yet they’d sent her fragile, bumbling self off to the templars to secure themselves some allies. Josephine had insisted she wouldn’t have to do anything, that she just had to show up while the actual soldiers being sent alongside her would do the heavy lifting. 

Iron Bull had promised much the same, posturing as he normally did. She almost always took him with her these days. He was a beast of a man who threw his weight around like it was nothing, more than happy to take blows for her. And even more importantly, he was growing incredibly fond of her, the kind of ally she needed. 

Their actual leader, the one who made the real decisions, was Cassandra. Cassandra was disinterested in coddling her, more focused on gathering troops than on the strange girl who’d inexplicably been shoved towards leadership because of an ability she’d been given by some higher power. 

Solas, the mage she’d been forced to take with her, was too busy huffing and puffing about prioritizing templars over mages. She thought about snapping at the elf, at insisting that maybe the mages should have been an organized militaristic force if they wanted to be prioritized in this fight. 

Instead, she rolled over like she always did, playing afraid until he stormed off, clearly uncomfortable with the tremor in her voice as she swore she was just trying to get the strongest possible troops so no one else would get hurt. 

Good. Let him be uncomfortable. She had never liked him much anyways. 

But even so, when they arrived at the templar camp she kept herself wedged firmly between Solas and Iron Bull, as far away from the leader of the templars, the Lord Seeker she was pretty sure he was called, as she could. 

She still didn’t fully understand who he was, couldn’t make sense of what he was doing here or why she was meant to care about him. In her defense, she hadn’t expected to be forced to come along. 

Despite her disinterest in him, despite her safe position, despite the way Bull attempted to lead the conflict, when something snapped in the Lord Seeker and he lunged forwards, he lunged at her. 

The world lurched under her feet and it felt like it had the last time, when she'd been pulled through the fade to this awful place and given the strange power that stuck her heading an army. It made her reel in her skin, her muscles and sinews feeling like they were being tugged along faster than she could keep up with, her mind stretching impossibly thin as it did.

And then she was alone. Her warriors and mages were gone, no Bull or Cassandra or Solas to keep her safe. 

Then this Lord Seeker appeared once more, and she suspected that even if she had listened when they’d told her all about the templars and their plight, she would have no better of an idea who this Lord Seeker was. 

This idea was only reinforced when the Lord Seeker began to morph, turning into eerie, hollow puppets of her now absent companions, cycling through her advisors as well. 

She allowed herself the freedom to not perform innocence for these poor mockeries of her cohorts. It seemed probable that this ‘Lord Seeker’ was a demon and as such, unlikely to respond to her usual fawning. 

So instead she got on with things, turning away from the creature that had just decided to morph itself into the face that she tried to avoid seeing in the mirror, and began moving forwards in this strange new space. 

The exploration was slow, the terrain littered with traps. The demon seemed frustrated with her persistent refusal to listen to it menace her. 

The rooms revealed little. Some had puppetted versions of the members of the Inquisition, acting out some situation or another. She decided not to devote her attention to it. It seemed to be intended to display what might happen should she die here and to be frank, she couldn’t care less. She would be dead after all. If Cullen ended up in a jail cell after she died, so be it. It would serve him right for forcing her to come here anyway. 

She explored another room, empty and strange, not sure what she was looking for. It wasn’t like she could just find a way out, she knew she was somewhere incorporeal and beyond things like exit doors. Maybe it was the fade, maybe she was in her own mind, maybe it was this demon’s territory. She didn’t much care, unless figuring it out led her to an exit any faster. 

And then, as she drowned herself in hopelessness and melancholy, a voice sounded from behind her. 

“You.”

The voice didn’t sound harsh nor antagonistic, a far cry from what she’d heard from the demon’s many faces. It was soft, almost curious in its tone. 

She turned around with wide eyes, forcing her face back into the soft façade she’d been free of whilst only under the scrutiny of the demon. 

“Thank god I found someone,” she gasped out, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick. “I thought I was all alone in here.”

A young man stood before her. She tried to take him in but it was difficult to due to the frankly absurd hat he was wearing. It covered most of his face, obscuring him from her, the shaggy ends of blonde hair and a stern looking mouth barely peeking out from under it. 

He also, fairly notably, was hanging from the ceiling, which did not help with the matter of the oversized brim of his well-worn hat blocking her view. 

He spoke once more, in that same gentle, inquisitive tone. It was off putting in a way it shouldn’t have been, its softness not quite managing to shield it from that. “It's not the same. Soft words, hard thoughts. You hate me. People do that but you think I’m human and you hate me anyway. Besides it, because of it. It’s hard to see, hard to understand, covered more and more, shying away from the light. The light brings eyes and the eyes bring hurt.”

“Are you inside my head?” Her tone was laced with a spite she rarely allowed to see the light of day.

He looked around. “We’re both inside your head. You’ve guessed that already.”

She shook her head. “Not here, not this place. You, what you’re saying, those are my thoughts. You’re stealing them from me.”

“Not stealing. Just seeing. Hearing.” He paused for a moment, and then said with a decisiveness she’d yet to hear from him. “You’re a bad person.”

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, brushing right past his statements, desperately searching for a way out of this. As much as she hated it, this weird creature that she’d found lingering in her mind was probably her best chance of escape. At least he didn’t seem intent on killing her.

“I grabbed onto you, when you were pulled through the fade. I wanted to go help, but getting out is hard. You made it easy but part of me is stuck up here now. You could help. If you go back I can follow you then too.”

Great, so she’d picked up some sort of mind-reading monster in the fade. She was tempted for a second to take her chances with the demon but she wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t get out on her own, and he clearly knew something. 

“What are you?” she asked, at least wanting to know what she was dealing with before she threw her life into his hands. 

“I’m Cole. What are you?”

That earned a ghost of a laugh from her, the short huff of air barely noticeable. Not that it mattered, Cole could probably feel it as she did. “I’m Rosemary.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, suddenly behind her, standing on the same floor she was on.

“About what? My name?”

“Wandering, alone, unnamed, searching for something soft on the tongue. Rosemary made people see the ghost, not the person. Rosemary earned gentle hands. What are you?” 

This was spiraling out of control faster than she could figure out how to manage it. “Can we focus on getting out of here?” she asked. “Can’t you interrogate me when there’s no imminent threat on our lives?”

Then he breathed a word out like he couldn’t decide if it was a prayer or a curse, like it was a horrible truth that had just occurred to him. “Britches.”

Her head snapped towards him, a tension she’d long since trained out of herself rearing its ugly head. “Where did you hear that?”

“You told me. It echoes in your head, the closest thing to you that there is. It’s so far, fleeting, fading. But it’s almost you.”

“We need to leave,” she practically pleaded with him. “Can we please just get out of here?”

“I’ve never heard someone who wasn’t a who before. Where did it go?”

“I promise I’ll answer all your questions when we get out. Please, we need to go.” She wasn’t above begging. There was very little she was above, in all honesty. 

His head tilted once more, as if considering asking about that thought, before deciding the promise of honesty in the future was worth more. 

“It wants your face,” he declared. “It would hurt more than you ever could, claw the people apart instead of just holding. You want to leave. I can help.”

“You can get me out of here?”

He didn’t even bother to nod, just continued speaking in his strange little riddles. “You need to make it more. Right now it’s just a few. The further you go, the further it stretches.”

“Why would I want to make it bigger?”

“The smaller it is, the closer together the power. You have to stretch it thin.”

Right, so she just needed to keep moving and eventually something in this seemingly endless demon would snap. 

She didn’t need him for that, she could travel on her own. 

His head tilted as the thought passed through her head. “We’re in you already. If you leave me behind, I stay. You want me to go so you can’t leave me.”

He was right. As much as she didn’t want to travel with this weird creature, leaving him festering inside her head seemed infinitely worse. 

“Alright then Cole, we’d better start walking.”

He nodded but did not move. “We will need to fight.”

“You will need to fight. There’s not much I can do.”

“No. You don’t fight, you move softer. Sneaking, slipping, stealing. You only have to roll over if you get caught.”

“I wish you’d stop doing that,” she said, and her voice was instinctually softer. He paid her no regard. 

“I can be quiet. We can move softly together.”

She hoped the creature actually understood what it was saying, that it could be as stealthy as it promised. Or at least hoped that it could fight. 

He still didn’t move and she wondered if he was waiting for her to go first. 

She turned and took a few steps out the door, hearing no footsteps sound behind her. 

When she turned, Cole was nowhere to be found.

A voice came from right behind her, outside of the doorway. “Should we not leave?”

She whipped around and glared at him. He didn’t seem to react to the look at all. 

To be fair, she wasn’t very intimidating. She had little practice at being menacing and she most certainly was not a natural. 

Emboldened by the fact that he did not seem to need to move to follow her, she set out, walking out the door, blowing right past him.

A scream sounded from her left and Cole said, “Keep going straight. It wants you to wind around and around and around so it doesn’t have to stretch.”

His voice echoed and she wasn’t sure if it was an audible noise or not. She turned to where it felt like it had come from and there he was, walking alongside her. 

The sound of her footsteps remained the only ones in the hall as the two of them walked. 

“We should move quietly,” she said. 

He looked around as he moved. “Envy can’t hear me. It doesn't know I’m here. You wouldn’t have either.”

“If not for safety then maybe you should be quiet for my own sanity.”

“You’re not going insane,” he declared. “You are frustrated.”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

“No,” he said. “You can be frustrated if you’d like.”

“No,” she informed him, although she imagined he knew already. “I would not like.”

She turned to look at him and saw a glimpse of his eyes under his hat, a little wrinkle formed between them. “Then you should stop.”

“You first,” she huffed. 

“The Iron Bull is out there,” he said, undeterred by her clear irritation. “He isn’t bad but he brings hurt anyway.”

She decided to try a more direct approach. “Can you shut up?”

“If you let them bite, then it doesn’t count. It only hurts if they take it, if you allow it it's still yours.”

She stopped with a jolt, whipping around to scold him. “If you can see everything in my head, why do you keep talking? You know what’s up there and I know what's up there so what exactly are we achieving?”

“I have thoughts too,” he said, almost wistfully.

“Really? I have yet to hear them. You instead seem intent on airing every thought I’ve ever had as obtusely as you can.”

“It’s hard. Your thoughts are so loud. You’re very angry.”

She huffed as she stormed onwards. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“I don’t know. I think the hurt would make me help. It just makes you want to dig your claws in and hold.”

“Fucking irritating little creature, that’s what you are. I’ll be glad when I get out of this and I never have to see you again. Then you can stew on my rotten thoughts as long as you’d like.”

His head cocked to the side. “You’re not convinced we’re inside you. You still hope this could be the fade. You think I may belong here, that I might stay.”

“Frankly, I don’t care where you go. I know you’re not staying with me though.”

“We’re tethered.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You can see in my head, right? Do you really think they’re going to believe a demon over me? You’ll be killed in a heartbeat. Which is fine by me, no skin off my back.”

“A bad person,” he muttered to himself, hands flexing and unflexing slowly, rhythmically as he spoke. She wasn’t sure if he even knew he was doing it. 

He went silent as they heard the shouting of troops. Cole faded away and she took to the shadows. 

If this really was her mind, which she was not ready to wholeheartedly believe on the word of some creature, then she had no idea how stealth worked here. Was it really as simple as being quiet and hiding away? Surely in this space that the demon allegedly created, it could sense where she was. 

And yet she watched soldiers run in front of her, looking desperately for someone to fight as she slunk further into the artificial landscape. 

Cole made himself scarce from there on out, occasionally warning her with that strange, disembodied voice to turn now or to avoid the room ahead, although never in such clear terms. 

Eventually, she realized where she’d ended up. She was where she’d begun, where the Lord Seeker, or perhaps the envy demon, had lunged at her past her several bodyguards, most of which were standing protectively in front of her.

It wanted her. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe because of her perceived position of power. Maybe because of whatever this ability was that the fade had given her seemingly at random when she’d been pulled here.

It didn’t really matter, at the end of the day. She just needed to get out. 

And at the top of all those staircases was a dead end where she had been attacked. 

She looked around as the sound of battle-ready troops got louder. 

“Cole,” she hissed. “Where do I go?”

His voice sounded from above and she looked up to find him in the palm of a massive statue. 

“You remember it wrong. The statues don’t have faces here. You didn’t care to look.”

“I still don’t. We have more important things to be worrying about than what some weird statues look like.”

“It should end where it began. You must escape in the center.”

She made the mistake of turning her head, of looking nervously towards the false templars that resided down the stairs. 

When she looked back up, she was alone again. 

Or at least she hoped she was, looking around nervously, checking for any signs of an aggressor. 

But demons didn’t play fair. 

Before she could so much as catch sight of it, the faux Lord Seeker was slamming her back into the wall, hands tight around her throat. 

The face looking back at hers was the half-familiar one from the mirror once more, one she tried to avoid looking at at all costs. 

It was typically unfair, she supposed. To be forced to look at an imitation of herself as she died. 

She kicked and flailed, trying to break from his grasp, to get away by any means possible, but she knew it was a losing fight. She could feel the strength in its hands that far exceeded hers. 

Cole’s voice sounded from right beside her. “He is afraid of you.”

She could see no sign of him out of the corner of her eye as she thrashed in the demon's hold, but she could hear him perfectly. 

The fight began to drain out of her, sinking into herself as her kicks lost all their power. 

And then the hands around her throat went stiff and the world folded in on itself. 

She collapsed to the ground the second she saw Iron Bull in front of her, pulling the Lord Seeker away from her. She heaved in air where she sat, clutching her chest as she did, eyes beginning to water. 

It wasn’t her best performance, a bit overdone. She honestly could have just reacted as she would naturally but the sudden appearance of her companions had thrown her. In her defense, it was a sudden shift and she’d been preoccupied with other things. 

The strange creature with the stupid hat was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t sure if she hoped he was still trapped back wherever they had been or not. She certainly didn’t want him lingering in her head but having a mind-reading creature roaming around would prove an ever greater problem. 

Bull carried her inside as the other two talked about a demon and some transformation she hadn’t been privy to, instead caught up in her own dramatics. 

He tucked her away on a chair in the corner as Solas said something, probably whining about her. Cassandra gave her a firm order to stay put and they left her inside, amidst the templars.

She stayed tucked in her corner, choking down any panic that might want to arise. 

She didn’t like being alone with groups of men, let alone groups of men that she didn’t know and hadn’t built any repertoire with.  

The fight was over fast. She stayed dutifully in her corner, not one to disobey orders. When it was over, Cassandra and Bull returned for her, Solas presumably off worrying about more important things than her. 

Cassandra did not let Bull carry her any longer, insisting she was fine without giving her the chance to speak. She rose to her feet, despite her plan to feign weakness a little longer. She didn’t want to upset Cassandra.

Cassandra dragged her back to their control room to debrief about the mission, where she would inevitably try to pull something approximating leadership out of her once more. 

It wouldn’t work. She knew any attempt to lead would upset more people than it would please.

It was safer to be weak. 

Cullen was upset about something, which didn’t make sense to her considering she’d helped his precious templars first. Josephine was upset too, not that she’d ever admit it. But a liar recognizes a liar and that calm voice was as put on as it could be. Leliana was endlessly practical, so presumably she was telling her something important. She barely listened to any of it, instead focusing on clutching her uninjured stomach in faux pain, hoping that the hands that had been around her neck left bruises, despite having been in that world between worlds. 

And then their typical, predictable chatter turned to something more panicked and she looked up to find Cole sitting on their table.

Her eyes shifted from an impression of someone trying to be brave about their pain to a very real panic, lurching away from him before she could think. 

Swords were being drawn in the blink of an eye and she did her best to position herself behind Cullen. He was already the fastest to the draw and Cole was too dangerous to her. Hopefully, if he felt he had something to protect he would be even more likely to end this creature now, before Cole could become a problem. 

“You left,” Cole said, looking straight at her, the weapons pointing at him not seeming to concern him at all.

All heads turned to her. “Rosemary?” asked Josephine hesitantly, waiting for an explanation. 

“He helped me against the demon,” she said reluctantly. “But I don’t think we can trust him.”

Cole’s head cocked to the side. “Fleeting, fearful, frantic. You need me to be gone, they can’t see what I know. We both will stay.”

She prayed the others didn’t understand that as the threat it was. 

Leliana glanced between the two of them and asked, “A spirit helped you?”

A spirit. It made sense, she’d apparently picked him up in the fade and he hadn’t done anything truly menacing so it was unlikely he was a demon. At least not yet. She wasn’t sure how Leliana had deduced this but she stored the information away. 

She nodded. “He did. And maybe I was unfair. He was nothing but kind to me, and he saved my life. We could give him a chance.”

Cullen scoffed. “Trust him? He’s a demon and you just said we shouldn’t trust him! Now you want to set him free in the camp?”

“Wasn’t it you who said I could stand to be a little braver, Commander Cullen?” she said, sitting up a little straighter. She needed to do this, if Cole was inside her head he could get her killed. “He saved me, and I say we give him a chance.”

Cole was gone before she finished defending him, disappearing with hints of fade green in the air where he’d sat. 

Josephine looked nervous but she seemed the most content with their situation, saying, “He could be a useful resource-” 

Before she could so much as finish her sentence, Rosemary bolted out the door to go find the ticking bomb that had invited itself into her army.

[samcrosfaith]

A LITTLE LOST 𝟬𝟮| 𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙨

Happy Lowman x fem!oc

You can find the introduction chapter and chapter one here, just click on it. You can also find them, and all the future chapters, in my masterlist {pinned post!}

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in future chapters!

a/n; I promise Happy will finally appear in the next chapter. I just had to get this story started in a somewhat logical way. I hope you enjoy! 🤎

word count; 2900

IT WAS TWO DAYS LATER, two days after Juice and Jax made a horrifying discovery, when four speechless men stood across the street from the burger restaurant, shock and fascination etched into their faces.

"Shit man, that's creepyᅳ and it takes a lot to freak me out", Tig spoke first, his hands prepped on his hips, eyes covered by dark sunglasses. "Death seems prettier than everᅳI'd definitely tap that."

"What the hell, man?" Jax' face twisted in disgust, he snapped his head to the side to glare at Tig. "It's still Hap's Old Lady, have some respect."

"Did he ever have respect?" Juice asked from the left, a sigh leaving his lips. But for a brief moment the slightest grin crossed his features. "I don't think he knows the word respect when there's someone with two legs and a hole he could use."

"Hey, we don't talk about women like that." Tig smacked the back of Juice' head, shaking his head as if he hadn't started it. "Have some respect."

"Boys, enough", Chibs' thick Scottish accent interrupted the little teasing game, earning a grateful look from Jax as his serious gaze landed on the three men. "What d' we do now? Go inside and talk t' her? Juicy? Did ye' check her records?"

"I did", the Puerto Rican nodded, not exactly enthusiastically as he tilted his head to the side. "No one by the name of Josephine Lowman works hereᅳ but a Josephine O'Connell."

"That's her maiden name", Jax thought aloud, rubbing a hand down his face as he let out a deep sigh. "What the hell is this? She was declared dead. Hell, Happy saw her, checked for himself because he didn't believe the doctors."

"Since she's officially declared dead, tha' explains why she uses her maiden name", Chibs also thought out loud, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared thoughtfully through the large window into the burger restaurant, still fascinated by watching someone who was actually dead. "We need t' find out how that's possible, what really happened t' Josy."

"How? We can't just ask her", Juice stated matter-of-factly, uncertainty flashing in his brown eyes. All he wanted was to talk to Josy, to hug his very much alive best friend, to tell her how glad he was that she was still here. "Besides, I can't believe she would ever do this to Happy; letting him suffer and allᅳ that's not like her at all."

"Well, she didn't recognize me, which means she must've suffered some kind of memory loss", which was the only logical explanation in Jax' eyes.

"Or she just faked her death", Tig said dryly as he took off his sunglasses, shrugging his shoulders. "We're going in there now and talk to her."

"Tig!" Jax called after the man, but the man with the black curls was too determined and already halfway across the street, which gave the others no choice and practically forced them to follow him, which all three did with a shake of their heads.

The bell above the door rang as the four bikers entered the restaurant and attracted different glances. Glances that they had long been used to. They looked around carefully until Josy finally appeared, with a sweet smile on her lips that everyone could still remember.

"I know why Hap fell in love with her", said Chibs, without sounding creepy in any way. It was no secret how beautiful Josy was.

"Yeah, she really was a jackpot", Juice agreed wistfully, clearing his throat as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Or still is..apparently."

It was so strange to see the young woman alive, and yet it was a huge relief, a shock in a good way.

As the four men stood in the middle of the restaurant, still considering how exactly they should address Josy, she was already heading towards the small group, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Can I help you?", she asked, polite as always. "If you're looking for a table, I can offer you one over there", she added, spinning around to point to the free table.

"You can help us, darlin'", Jax began, trying his best to hide his fascination as he spoke to the redhead. "Can you give us five minutes of your time? We have a few questions."

"Uh..Iᅳ I'm working right now." The redhead clutched the menu card to her chest, swallowing nervously. Why did four bikers want to talk to her? "Maybe our manager can help?"

"No, we need t' talk to ye', lass." Chibs stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Josy's shoulder, but removed it quickly when the young woman tensed up. "Sorry, sweetheart", he apologized sincerely. "We just have t' figure somethin' out, ye' know? It won't take more than five minutes."

"We really don't want to cause any trouble, we just want to talk." Juice sent a warm smile in Josy's direction, also stepping a little closer. "Would you give us a moment?"

Somehow the redhead managed to relax at the younger man's smile but she didn't know why. But what she did know was that she should be much more intimidated, much more worried, about the fact that four men from a biker club wanted to talk to her.

Were they old clients from her dad? Maybe they had hired him as lawyer and her father managed to piss them off somehowᅳ which wouldn't be the first time Arthur had angered someone to the point they were seeking for some kind of revenge.

But if there was one thing Josy wasn't, it was judgmental. Her sweet nature, her kindness, would probably, hopefully, always stay a part of her.

"Okay", she said finally, exhaling loudly. Apparently it really did seem important and her curiosity was piqued. "Five minutes, that's all I can do."

"Thanks, lass", Chibs nodded sincerely, as did the other three men. "Maybe we should sit down for tha', I think tha' would be better for all of us."

As if everything wasn't confusing enough already, an uneasy feeling was now brewing in the pit of her stomachᅳ a strange feeling that she couldn't quite shake off.

Josy, her beautiful freckle-covered face framed by her ginger strands, nodded slightly before leading the small group to the free table in a quiet corner and waited until everyone had slid into the booth to take a seat.

Pulling a chair from another table, she placed it in front of the table and slowly plopped down onto it, asking her colleague, who had just scurried past with a slightly confused look, to take over her tasks for a moment.

"Are you okay?", asked the brunette, her voice lowered as she placed a protective hand on Josy's shoulder.

"She's fine, doll", Tig winked with his typical smirk while his eyes checked out the beautiful woman. "I'd feel even better if you sat down too."

"Tig", Jax warned, glaring at the man once again. "Not now."

"Creep", the brunette scoffed; in contrast to Josy, she had a quick tongue.

Clearly amused, Tig raised his hands in the air. "I'm sorry, doll, sometimes I can't keep my mouth shut when I see a pretty face."

"Oh my God, here we go", Juice muttered under his breath, only able to shake his head at Tig's boldness.

"That's enough", Chibs grumbled, a certain vibration in his voice as he saw how uncomfortable and uncertain Josy's expression suddenly seemed. "I'm sorry, lass. My friend here can't control himself sometimes."

"It's okay", the redhead murmured before giving her colleague and friend a reassuring look. "I'm okay, thanks Summer."

"Good." The brunette shot the men a warning look, each and every one of themᅳ although she sheepishly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear at the Puerto Rican, who gave her an apologetic smile before her features turned hard again and she was pointing a scolding finger at them. "Keep your hands to yourself, all of you!"

Josy watched her friend with a small smile, grateful for her boldness, before she looked back at the men. "What could four bikers want from me? How about one of you finally gives me an explanation?"

"Nothing would please me more, darlin'," Jax winked as he shot her his signature smile, his broad shoulders sinking against the orange cushion of the seat. "Your name is Josephine, right?"

"You know my name?" Swallowing the forming lump in her throat, Josy shifted nervously in her seat. "How? I don't know any of you."

"Yes, yes ye' do, lass", Chibs explained with a sigh, his tone calm and reserved. Freaking her out even more wasn't what he wanted. "We know how absurd that sounds, and we'll understand if ye' throw us out in a minute, but give us a chance t' explain everythin', aye?"

"This is getting really weird, I hope you know that", the young woman uttered as she crossed her arms. "What do you want from me?"

"You died a little over one and a half year ago. At least that's what we thought." Tig dropped the bomb before they could make the woman any more nervous, empathy in his tone as he spoke. "And you were married to one of our brothersᅳ that's why we're here."

"I know this sounds crazy", Jax said immediately, his hands resting on the surface of the white table as a frown took over his face. "But it's the truth. At least if you're Josephine O'Connell, born in Roseville on October 10th, 1984. Is that right?"

Josy's lips opened and closed so many times that she would probably get a jaw cramp later, but not once did she utter a word. Instead, an almost hysterical-sounding chuckle slipped past her lips, a sea of emotion pooling in her eyes.

"And you are the mother of a one-year-old girl", Juice explained calmly, sympathy in both his voice and his eyes as he could see the deep shock cross Josy's face. "Well, she's one and a half now, looks just like you. Same red hair and all", he added with a beaming smile. "Her name's Esmee."

"Stop..please..", Josy whispered, sheer horror in her eyes as she listened to the words they were saying. "This has to be a bad joke. A sick, fucked up joke."

Suddenly her chest felt tight, as if someone was squeezing it. Her heart was beating so hard against her ribcage that she could feel it in her throat while the blood rushed through her veins faster than ever before, sending a feeling of dizziness to her head.

"We wish it was just a bad joke, believe me." Jax leaned over the table a little as he was the one sitting closest to Josy. The redhead looked as if she was about to pass out, so Jax put a strong hand against her arm just in case. "Are you okay? Is there anything we can do?"

Her head snapped up, astonished and partly speechless, she stared at the blonde man. "You wanna know if I'm okay?"

The hysterical laughter that sounded from the back of her throat sent a chill down the guys' spines. "You didn't seriously just ask me that, did you?"

"Josy", Juice began, trying to grab Josy's hand from the other side of the table as the redhead's breath faltered and she slowly began to hyperventilate. But the girl pulled her hand back in fright, a film of tears now covering her eyes, shattering Juice' heart. "You have to believe us, please. We may do a lot of questionable things, but joking about things like thatᅳ that's not our style."

"Then why the hell am I here if I should be dead, huh?!", she choked out, her splayed fingers pressed against her chest as she tried to take deep breaths. "I would know if I was married and had a child! What kind of mother would forget about her own child?"

"Normally people don't, that's right", Jax noted with a sigh, feeling bad for the woman who seemed absolutely frightened and desperate. "You had an accident when you were pregnantᅳ you died, the baby, Esmee, was saved."

"Someone must've played us really good, after all you're sitting in front of us, no idea who we are", Tig continued as he leaned forward a little, his arms crossed on the table as his piercing blue eyes searched for Josy's. "And your husband is losing it the more time passes without you by his side."

"I can'tᅳ I can't believe this." The first tears rolled down her pale cheeks, which she quickly wiped away with her palms before shaking her head frantically and shooting up from her seat. Smoothing her apron, she exhaled shakily. "I had an accident, yes. And yes, I've been suffering from anterograde amnesia since it happened", she explained, the words practically bubbling out of her. "But this..", another hysterical laugh fell over her lips. "This is absolutely crazy."

"Who told ye' all of tha', lass? Who was there after you woke up?", Chibs asked urgently as he also stood up without getting too close to the redhead. She was already upset and frightened enough, almost seeming like a little deer without a mother. "Can ye' at least remember what happened after the accident?"

"My family, who else?" All of this was too much for her, her brain no longer able to process all the information that she didn't even know if it was true. "I'm sorry, Iᅳ I can't do this."

"Josy, please!" Jax was the first to grab Josy's arm, causing the young woman to defend herself and yank her arm out of his grasp before stumbling two steps backwards, which caught the attention of the other employees and guests.

"Don't touch me", the redhead snarled, which wasn't normally her style. But at the moment she was so overwhelmed that all she wanted to do was to run away. "Leave me alone, all of you. I don't know what kind of sick game this is, but play it with someone else!"

"You heard her", the brunette from before intervened after she had immediately rushed over to her clearly upset friend, her gaze stern and warning. "You better leave now before I get the managerᅳ or before I call the police."

"Alright." Jax threw his hands in the air with a sigh while Chibs scribbled something down on a napkin. "Come on guys, let's go."

There was no point in staying here. In hindsight, someone would actually call the cops and they didn't need that at the moment. After fourteen months inside, a police station was the last place they wanted to see right now. Maybe they would try again in a few days, outside the restaurant.

"It was nice to see you again though", Jax added sincerely, wistfulness in his blue eyes before he shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded the guys over.

"If ye' change yer' mind", Chibs shoved the napkin into the small pocket on Josy's apron, an almost fatherly smile grazing his lips. "That's the address of our clubhouseᅳ ye' can visit us there anytime."

Josy's body stiffened, the muscles under her skin slowly began to burn from all the tension. Still, she didn't miss how calm she became when the man with the scars on his face shot her that smile. It felt familiar, but she couldn't remember ever having seen the man before.

"We'd love to hear from you." Juice was also back on his feet by now, suppressing the urge to hug his best friend with all his might. Still, he gently bumped her shoulder with his as he walked past her, smiling at her. "It's a relief to know that you're alive."

Tig was the last to walk past the women, giving Josy a warm smile before winking at the brunette, Summer. "You can join her if your friend decides to come by."

"Jesus, you're not giving up, huh?" Slightly annoyed, the brunette rolled her eyes, comfortingly rubbing her friend's arm as she watched the four men reluctantly leave the restaurant. "What a bunch of freaks."

The guests forgot about the incident quicker than expected and went back to their food while business continued as normal. Summer, on the other hand, led Josy into one of the back rooms so her friend could have a quiet moment.

"Do you need something?", asked Summer, concern evident in her tone as Josy slowly sank into a chair. "Want me to call Debbie?"

"No, please don't", Josy answered quickly, not in the mood to have to explain all of this to her sister right now. "I'm okay, Summer. You can go back to work."

The brunette raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you", Josy assured with a weak smile and a nod, watching her colleague leave the room with a shrug and a sigh.

Only then did Josy reach for the napkin in her apron and stare thoughtfully at the address. Maybe she should look into it. If there was any chance that there was any truth behind what the men had said, then she wanted to know. Above all, she wanted to know why her father and sister, who supposedly only wanted the best for her, had lied to her.

Maybe, just maybe, she would take a little trip to Charming this weekend.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Gather one, gather round, my friends! Lets play a little tabletop game I like to call....

[apokrify]

“𝗜𝗻𝘂𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲'𝘀 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝘁, 𝗚𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗻𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱, 𝟭𝟴𝟵𝟬𝘀

Robert E. Peary went to Greenland in 1891 along with his wife, Josephine, and Frederick A. Cook, an explorer who would guide them. Peary wanted to spend time with the isolated tribe known as the "Arctic Highlanders" whom he has made contact with. They liked him and helped him as he explored their land.

During his time there, he snapped photos of their lives and how they survive in such harsh conditions. This photo that Peary took shows how an Inuit man is warming his wife's feet.” - @/historical world

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter One

Masterlist

The chocolate factory of the famous Willy Wonka was a place shrouded in mystery. Your grandpa Joe had told you many times that the factory had been closed for several years. But no one knew who could run this huge confectionery factory. Your grandpa Joe's stories made you want to visit this strange chocolate factory. Even if you thought some memories of your grandpa had to be fantasized, even if you adored him, some things were impossible. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the engines of the Wonka trucks delivering the famous treats. The people driving the trucks were the only people who could get in and out of the factory. You shook your head slightly before walking back to the crude cabin that served as your family's home. Your uncle and your aunt were not well off people. You could tell they were struggling to make ends meet. From an early age, you did odd jobs to help them as best you could. Now you worked in a small store a few blocks from the cabin, all your salary went to the Bucket family. You pushed the cabin door, greeting your grandparents, your aunt and your cousin. They answered you with a "hello" and "good evening" as you closed the door and took off your coat.

"Was it to the store, honey?" asked Madame Bucket, who was cooking her famous cabbage soup.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," you replied before going to hug each member of your family before sitting down next to Charlie.

The door was not long in opening on the father of the family: Mr. Bucket. The man greeted the family which was now complete. Mr. Bucket approached his wife to kiss her. She asked her husband if there was anything else to put in the soup. You felt your heart sink as you watched the smile disappear from your uncle's lips, giving way to an embarrassed expression, shaking your head slightly. Your aunt quickly replied that cabbage went best with cabbage, all while bringing down her chopper on the poor vegetable. The father of the family came to sit at the table, announcing to Charlie that he had something for him. He took caps of toothpaste from his pocket, placing them in front of the young boy who was more than happy to find the missing piece to complete his precious model of the chocolate factory.

"It's exactly what I need!" exclaimed Charlie, rushing to his closet to pull out his model.

"What's it, Charlie?" Grandpa Joe asked, trying to see what his grandson was doing.

Charlie put down his model of the famous chocolate factory, made entirely of toothpaste cap, to hang the last missing piece: the head of Willy Wonka.

"Dad fount it, just the piece I needed."

"What piece was it?" you asked, studying the model.

"A head for Willy Wonka," he replied smiling at you.

"Well! How wonderful!" said Grandma Josephine.

"It's quite a likeness," Grandpa Joe commented.

"You think so?" Charlie asked as he left your legs to walk closer to his grandparents' bed.

"Think so? I know so."

You took advantage of this moment to join your aunt in the small kitchen to prepare the bowls as well as the tray. Once the bowls were filled, you distributed them to the others before settling on the ladder, listening with one ear to Grandpa Joe's stories. You have heard them many times. You wondered what Willy Wonka looked like. Why did he never leave his factory? Where did all his ideas for his sweets come from? You quickly finished your soup to go to the room you shared with your cousin. You swapped your clothes for your nightgown, hole because of moths, and you slipped under the covers.

"I'd give anything in the world just to go in one more time... and see what's become of that amazing factory," Grandpa Joe said dreamily.

"Well, you won't," Grandpa George snapped, snapping Grandpa Joe out of his thoughts. "Because you can't! No one can. It's a mystery and i will always be a mystery. Even (Y/N) understood it. That little factory of yours, Charlie, is as close as any of us is ever going to get."

Grandpa George was right. It would take a miracle for anyone to set foot in the chocolate factory.

(o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o)

A sigh escaped your lips as you explained to the umpteenth customer that all the chocolate bars had been sold. Since this morning, people had become hysterical. You had learned from Bill that the great Willy Wonka had hidden five golden tickets to allow five people to visit his chocolate factory. Part of you wanted to find that famous ticket, but you knew your chances were slim, extremely slim.

"They were crazy before, but now it's worse," you say, carrying the last box full of Wonka bars.

"And again! Have you ever seen a new flavor come out?" Bill asked chuckling.

"I remember when the morning dew flavored lollipop came out for Valentine's Day. I've never seen so many women banging on it for simple lollipops."

Bill was laughing as you carried the box of Wonka candy into the shop. You didn't have time to open the box and put the goods away when people came tumbling into the store, their money in their hands and yelling at you to give them the famous chocolates. A crazy day in itself. At the end of the day, you were completely exhausted and sweaty. People had gone absolutely crazy.

"You did very well, kiddo," Bill said, ruffling your hair.

"Do you think this frenzy will last long?"

"Hey! Wait a bit when the first golden ticket is found. Here, present from the house." Bill handed you a Wonka chocolate bar.

You thanked your boss while unwrapping the candy. Bill was watching carefully as you removed the foil.

Nothing.

You shrug your shoulders and say you've at least won some chocolate for tonight. You said good night to Bill before leaving the store, biting into chocolate. You had to finish it before going home. You loved your family, but there were times when you wanted to keep certain things to yourself. You were already giving your salary to your uncle and your aunt. You had every right to be selfish from time to time. To be sure of that, you took a detour to finish your candy. You sat on a bench, quietly eating your chocolate and enjoying this moment of solitude. You finished the last square of the tablet. You threw the packaging in the first trash can you found, your attention was caught by the newspaper that was inside. You took out the trash so you could read the articles.

"Well, the employee unable to serve his customers is scavenging," commented a female voice.

You sighed as you turned to one of Bill's store customers. One of the hysterical customers who yelled at you when you told her Wonka chocolate was out of stock.

"And the unpleasant customer has nothing else to do with her evening?" you asked sarcastically.

"You little..."

"Everything's going good here?"

You jumped as you turned to the third person who had just arrived. You didn't hear it coming. Who was this guy? He was tall, slender, wearing a top hat and odd glasses, dressed in a red velvet jacket, wearing gloves and holding a cane. The disgruntled customer huffed and mumbled something incomprehensible before turning on her heels and leaving, leaving you alone with this strange man.

"Thank you, sir," you say, turning to the strange man.

"It's nothing. I wasn't going to let that awful thing go after you, Barley Sugar."

"Barley sugar?"

"My dearest apologies, I didn't ask your name."

"Sorry, but my family always told me not to talk to the stranger. Thanks for saving me anyway, stranger."

"Good night, Barley Sugar."

You moved away from the mysterious man to take the road and return to the cabin after another small detour to enjoy your well-deserved moment of solitude. Night had long since fallen when you returned. Your grandparents, Mr Bucket and Charlie were fast asleep. Only Madame Bucket was still awake, sitting at the table, a bowl of cabbage soup just waiting to be eaten. Your aunt was giving you a stern look as you closed the door and took off your jacket which you hung up with the others.

"Where were you? I was worried, you know."

"Sorry, aunt. It was a crazy day with that golden ticket thing. People almost scratched my eyes out when they saw they didn't have the ticket," you say while eating your soup.

"(Y/N). Your... your uncle lost his job. From now on... you are our only source of income, honey."

The sip of soup passed slowly down your throat. It had to be a bad joke. Was God punishing you for a stupid Chocolate bar? You sighed knowing what she was going to ask of you and it didn't take long to happen: working overtime at Bill's. You wanted to scream, to tell her that you were already giving away everything you earned and now they're asking for more. But you didn't say anything, you just smiled and nodded.

"No problem. I'll... ask Bill for more hours," you say, tightening your grip on the spoon.

"I'm sorry, honey. Everything will be okay, I promise."

As per usual. It was you who was drinking.

[icallhimjoey]

All Goes South

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe is overworked, tired, exhausted and just... he needs a break. Everyone knows it, too. None of it is really exciting to him anymore. Then, he meets you, and something reignites within him.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader, angst, mentions of smut

Author’s note: Wee woo wee woo! Last part alert! The 2004 film that inspired me was First Daughter (and I guess, that means Chasing Liberty too). Some girls got it shockingly fast and my inbox is full of messages of girls guessing correctly, so well done! Hope you all enjoy this last part!

Wordcount: 5.5k

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Mistake.

That was a mistake. All of it. You. You were a mistake.

“Yea, well... we’ll see,” Joe could hear your voice echo in his mind. He’d seen it now, and desperately wished he could unsee it all.

In the car on the way to Joe's film premier, he stared out of the window with wide eyes, a hand covering his mouth, brain buried deep in thought. In shock, because what the fuck had just happened?

"She was just doing her job, mate... I don't know what to tell–"

"She's an undergrad." Joe interrupted, voice stern, not blinking, eyes still staring. You didn't have a job.

"Yea, she's interning for Victoria. Josephine helps her out a lot too... she'd been given an assignment, and... fucking aced it, if I'm being honest, so Vic's gonna offer her a job,"

Joe then turned his head, looked at his manager and felt something snap and recoil inside his head.

Joe's manager saw, and immediately jumped to your defense.

"We needed to get you out there, Joe... you were calling in sick left, right and center - we asked if you if minded an intern joining the team, you said you didn't mind, so an intern joined the team. I don't know what to tell you..." 

Joe tried to ignore it, looked away, eyes trained out the window, worked away the tears that built in his eyes from sheer anger, and got his phone out to distract him. Pretended he wasn't trapped in a car with someone defending you, standing up for you, after the most devastating thing ever had just happened to him.

"You fucked off to the toilets again, and were in there for, what, twenty minutes? She asked if she could try something, and Victoria told her to do whatever because none of us were getting through to you, we tried everything, didn't we? Josephine said she'd get Victoria to hire her right after her internship if she could manage to get you to stop canceling on everything... we were at our wit's end,"

Joe's breathing grew heavier, and if his fingernails were longer, the palms of his hands would've bled.

"And she fucking nailed it, didn't she? She did a stellar job. Got you out there. Got you smiling, all... I don't know, all happy? Paid your bills–"

"Don’t."

So close to breaking, Joe only had to say that once to shut Alex up fully. Knew if he would've kept going, Joe would've broken down completely. Would've started crying for real, and Joe didn't know if he'd be able to stop himself if that were to happen.

A silence took over, Joe's mind reeling, and then, he blocked your number.

What a fucking mistake, how the fuck could he not have seen it? Could he not have puzzled it together? He couldn't actually believe it. This was taking humiliation to a whole different level.

He tried to make sense of it, but couldn't for the life of him.

You'd eavesdropped on Joe's meeting at that restaurant you said you used to work at. Made it sound like you weren't with them, with him, at all. They'd been lies. Lies by omission, maybe. But still fucking lies.

You'd shown him out that backdoor, and then he'd asked if you wanted to join him, like an idiot, and Joe realised, that was the first mistake he had made. He remembered all the phone calls and the texts he'd gotten that night from his team. Had you not received any?

The second mistake was banning chat about work. Would you have told him if he hadn't swiped the topic off the table? Would your silly round of questions have involved work-related questions? And would Joe have learnt then that you were part of the team of people he'd ran away from then?

These were questions he knew he was never going to get an answer to.

He could think of so many more mistakes. He should have never let you take him over to Swingers, should have never taken you over to Duck & Waffle and should have never insisted on taking you home.

And you had fucking warned him too, hadn't you?

Joe closed his eyes, absolutely livid with himself as he realised you'd actually warned him. You'd been so hesitant, had said, "I don’t want to make mistakes," which then lead to Joe taking full responsibility for all of the upcoming mistakes the two of you made. Why did he do that? What the fuck was actually wrong with him?!

But it was never fully his fault.

Because Joe didn't know.

Joe had no idea.

Joe could blame himself for a lot, but the biggest mistake was the one that you made. The biggest mistake was the information you'd withheld. The purposefully vague explanation of your internship, the exclusion of any details of what it really was that you did. That was all on you.

Joe angrily puzzled things together in the silence of that backseat. Things sort of started dawning on him. Started making sense a little more. In hindsight, Joe felt like a fucking idiot because hadn't it all been so fucking obvious?!

You'd been very jittery a lot.

Very nervous.

Would almost succumb under a pressure Joe never fully understood, but he had wanted to be so helpful, so supportive.

Was it all fretfulness to be found out? To run into someone who was going to tell Joe? Tell him that the girl he'd fallen so hard for - fuck, he was in so fucking deep - that she was lying to him? Is that what that stupid bouncy leg was all about? The clammy hands? Those fearful eyes?

Joe realised he'd bitten through his bottom lip when he suddenly tasted blood.

Shit, he fucking loved you. He realised it then and there and wanted to smash in the windows. The whole thing was a disaster.

The taxi pulled up outside of the office where Joe got changed into a fancy looking suit. The office was just around the corner from Leicester Square anyway, so he made it perfectly on time. Didn't look anyone in the eye, though. Not until he stepped foot onto the red carpet.

Joe smiled at people behind the barriers.

Joe smiled at the wall of photographers.

Joe smiled at the people holding microphones.

Joe smiled at his coworkers, at his costars, at other celebrities.

Joe smiled the whole time.

Yet, it never reached his eyes.

Joe loved you, and you'd gone and fucked it all up.

Once people started making their way inside, Joe was pulled aside, and then, was told to go home. He looked awful, like he was on the verge of a mental break down. But then Joe said,

"Oh no, I'm staying." and turned into a real bitch of a man.

"This is important, isn't it? Can't skip my own premier, oh no, this is the type of shit you come and get me for, right? The big event that I definitely wasn't allowed miss out on, just, had to be dragged from a date–" Joe closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose in frustration. He didn't like that he'd just called that a date.

"I'm staying." He finished, but as he said those last two words, he was already walking backwards.

"I'm staying. Because you need me out here, right? Need me to stop canceling on everything? I'm staying. I'm fucking staying." and then Joe stretched out both his arms with both middle fingers raised, and left.

Joe sent an e-mail to his team from the car that drove him home.

"Taking an indefinite leave of absence. Please direct any and all questions towards Alex, he'll assist."

And then, for the next two and a half weeks, no one managed to get into contact with him. They tried - you tried - but Joe dodged all calls, blocked various numbers, and let all e-mails go unanswered.

He needed time to think.

Joe granted himself the break he needed a long time ago, got drunk more than was good for him, spoke to his mum and dad a bunch, and cried when he found the toothbrush you used in his medicine cabinet.

All for a fucking job.

And sure, Joe had seen your flat, had seen the way you lived. Had heard you wish for a real job, one that would pay you enough to move to a different place. One without a messy flatmate, and one with a gorgeous bathtub.

But still.

Joe couldn't get it out of his head.

Couldn't accept that in such a short amount of time he allowed himself to fully love someone that could do such awful things to him.

Couldn't accept that he loved you at all.

And that he missed you.

Fuck, he missed you so fucking much.

Joe dreamt about you a lot. Somehow couldn't shake your face in his sleep. It found him every time, and each morning, it took him real convincing not to call you. Not to reach out. Not to pretend that nothing bad had ever really happened. He had to actively remind himself that you pretended you were something else to get him to do his job.

He just hoped not all of it had been pretend.

Some things had to have been real... right?

Joe dreamt and reality-checked for days, until time settled things. Anger settled into sadness, and sadness dulled over time.

Joe was never mad at his team. He realised they were all nice, kind people who wanted nothing but the best for him. So when, after seventeen days, Joe's manager decided to stop by to check on him, Joe didn't hesitate to let him in.

Alex didn't come over to talk Joe back into work, but after a short catch up, apologies exchanged, Alex suggested for Joe to stop by the office. Not for any meetings. But, just to come by and see everyone. Joe's team cared about him. They wanted to know if he was doing all right.

But the chances of running into you made Joe hesitate.

Alex immediately took back the suggestion when Joe didn't really respond to it. "Take however long you need, mate, no rush,"

Joe blinked and smiled, but it was sad.

"No, no, it's just... I can't run into her," Joe confessed, and immediately knew he shared too much when he saw his manager's face scrunch up in confusion before it turned into a frown.

"Were you dating?"

It was as if the penny only just dropped for him then, and Joe thought, why else do you think I reacted the way I did, you fucking idiot? Didn't say that, of course. Instead, he stared at a fixed spot on his kitchen island and said,

"I think it was somehow more than that,"

Alex frowned deeper.

"Didn't you only meet like, a month ago?"

"Yea," Joe's eyes grew but remained fixed on that same spot. "It was a second nature sort of... instinctual thing. Makes it all worse, somehow,"

The fact that all of it was based on lies, Joe meant.

A moment of silence passed where neither man said anything, and Joe let his mind drift off, thought of your face for a little bit, until suddenly, he cleared his throat loudly and then Alex slapped his own legs.

"Well," Alex said before getting up, and finding his jacket to sling his arms back into. "No need to worry about running into her at the office,"

Joe looked up at his manager, blank faced.

"She concluded the internship, and then didn't take Vic up on the job offer, so, you know,"

"Hang on," Joe placed a hand over his eyes for a second, now his turn to be confused. "She didn't take the job?"

"Probably for the best, isn't it? Seeing as there... was something, between the two of you," Alex gestured vaguely, unaware of how this little piece of information derailed just about, um, everything.

You didn't take the fucking job? What the fuck?!

Alex saw Joe tap impatient fingers on the counter as his eyes darted around, clearly calculating his next move. He was about to say something, but then Joe said, "Thanks, Alex," before redirecting his attention to his phone.

You put plates down onto a shelf and rubbed the back of your hand over your brow when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You weren't meant to answer, but you couldn't help sneak a look at who was trying to reach you. When you saw, you thought for a second you were making things up.

That said Joe.

Joe was calling you.

Without even checking if any of the guests could see you from where you were stood, you answered.

"Joe?"

"Where are you?"

It took you a moment to register Joe's question, his tone of voice, and the urgency with which he spoke.

"I'm..."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at work, Joe. What's going on?"

"Where's work?" Joe sounded impatient and was loud, practically screaming down the phone. You heard keys jingle and the bang of a door slamming shut.

"I- I got my old job back, at the restaurant... Joe, are you all right, what's wrong?"

But Joe'd already hung up. You texted, "I'm working til close, do you want to meet after?" but the text bounced. You were still blocked.

You spent the next however many minutes eyeing the entrance of the restaurant like a hawk from behind the bar as you absentmindedly twirled a dry wineglass in a dry towel.

What the fuck was going on? Why had Joe called you? Why did he need to know where you were? And why did your gut feeling tell you that something was terribly, terribly wrong?

You watched the entrance and twirled that wineglass, long dried by now, until you convinced yourself that Joe wasn't actually going to come over to see you.

Then suddenly, you saw him.

But he rushed past the windows. Power-walked right by the restaurant without glancing inside.

Shit.

The back door.

You put the glass back on its shelf and hung the towel neatly on its hook, before stepping into the kitchen.

You already heard it then.

Loud, rapid banging, unmistakably from both of Joe's fists that hammered the door urgently.

The loud banging stopped when the door opened a little at first, and then a lot, as you fully pushed it open.

Joe was there, panting in the alleyway, and he looked unwell. Pale, eyes red-rimmed, and harshly underlined by dark circles. He looked broken in a way you hadn't been able to even imagine him, and it stabbed you right in the center of your heart.

Joe looked awful, like he hadn't slept in weeks, but above all else, he looked fucking furious.

"Joe," you croaked, barely a whisper that had to compete with the loud noises coming from the kitchen behind you.

Joe's face was like an open book, so expressive, which was just the worst. You saw everything. All of it. His outrage, the humiliation, the clear desire to inflict harm, upon you, you imagined. All so recognisable, so familiar. You wished you couldn't see any of it, but you could. Joe wanted you to, and it made the guilt that had camped out in your chest for weeks now grow to a new size.

It instantly made you want to burst into tears. It was painful, but you understood you deserved that.

Joe didn't move. Just stood there, breathing heavily, looking at you, and you understood this was going to be it. Joe was going to get all of it out. Confront you about everything. Make you feel horrid in new and different ways, and even though inside the restaurant it was busy and you had a job to do, you decided that this was more important.

Joe was here to end it.

Okay, you thought definitively. If Joe needed this, you were going to bear it. It felt like the least you could do.

"I'm taking five," you shouted over your shoulder, and you stepped outside, letting the backdoor fall shut behind you. Now it was just the two of you in that grimy alleyway where you remembered Joe asking you to come with him weeks ago. When it all started.

“Hi,” you said on an exhale when the silence dragged on too long. It felt stupid, but you didn't know what else to say.

Joe faced everything he’d been afraid of facing. His heart broke and leapt for joy all at once. He'd missed you. So much. Seeing you in the flesh made it undeniable which was really fucking annoying. You'd hadn't even known each other for two months, and hadn't even seen each other for over half of it. And yet, he had missed you so, wanted nothing more than for you to collide with each other in this moment, because even though there were so many things he was mad about, he really fucking missed you.

Joe's throat swelled and his expression faltered slightly. He swallowed hard, not fast enough for you to not see it, but he hoped you didn't notice the softness within him that he still kept for you. 

The air between you was sweltering despite the low temperatures and for a moment, you allowed yourself to close your eyes. Geared up for whatever Joe was going to throw at you. Gathered what you needed and made more room in your chest because more bad feelings were going to have to fit in there.

"Look at me," 

You did, but immediately wished you didn't. You could see how devastated Joe was in close-up detail, all of the inner turmoil that bubbled up inside him, and you kind of wanted to self-destruct. Wanted it to hurt you, wanted that punishment - anything to make this inside ache go away.

Joe took a long look at you and held your gaze and fuck, it was really difficult to not look away. Then he drew a deep, angry, close-lipped inhale and finally said, 

"You didn't take the job?"  

Joe spat the words at you accusingly, eyes narrowed, facial expression one of pure disgust, like it was the worst thing you could have ever done to him. You frowned a little, confused, because that wasn't what you expected. But he was right, you didn't take that job. How could you have?

"Of course I didn't," 

Thing is, that was exactly the wrong thing to say. Joe didn't want to hear about how you had taken the moral high ground. He didn't want to hear the explanation you had ready from the start, one that hadn't changed throughout the weeks, hadn't really transformed into anything deeper. 

You looked at the person that you loved, and then hurt so viciously. 

"How could I have?" 

Joe glared at you, anger building and starting to spill out, sort of like he couldn't believe what you were saying. You thought it made perfect sense, though.  

"So you made me go through all of that for fuck all?" 

Joe gestured wildly, took a step back and started pacing. You could practically feel the anger exuding off of him. It was so heated - hot enough to burn you, if you weren't careful. 

"Made me question everything for no reason? Why? Was I not worth it?"

There wasn’t much more you could do but show your defeat. Stand still. No movement. Just, sad eyes. Let Joe know you never meant for any of this to happen, even if you understood that it was your fault that all of it had.

"Joe, I'm sorry," your brows knitted together. You were sorry. Would tell him a million times if you needed to. But you also knew that it was never going to be enough. You'd clipped Joe's wings and were now telling him, oops, shouldn't have done that. Like that was going to fix anything.

Joe then whirled around, arms held out wide, like there was an audience. 

"What does that even mean?" 

You went cold all over and could feel tears welling up as you frowned hard. 

"It means I wish I didn't fuck all of it up–" 

"You didn't take the job!" Joe interrupted loudly, making you flinch, before he continued speaking on a more sensible volume level. "You didn't take the– she didn't take the fucking job," Joe kicked against a steel bin, made the lid go flying which crashed hard against the asphalt. You flinched and saw Joe place both hands behind his head as he stared down the alley towards the main road with wet eyes and a red, blotchy face. 

"You didn't take the- you decided to lie to me for weeks, fucking weeks, and then... for what?" 

You distantly felt tears spilling down your own face, but couldn't focus on anything other than Joe who seemed to slowly, kind of... lose it. Lose himself, in real time, right in front of you.

He couldn't even look at you. Fuck, he thought so many things, but most things died in his throat because, look at you. 

He fucking loved you.

The overwhelming need to comfort and care for Joe started filling up the empty spaces in your chest and it melted together with the guilt. It made a scolding, hot, thick mash that boiled your lungs.

You took a single step forward. Wanted to take Joe's hurt away and slot that shit into your own chest where it belonged.

"Joe," 

You reached for Joe's hand, but got his arm instead. You took it. Would take what Joe was going to give you. Joe let you hold his arm with plenty of noticeable distance between you still.

"Why did you do it?" Joe's voiced cracked right down the middle, all filled with hurt and complex anger. The eyes that watched you seemed a little cooler then, that fiery heat simmered down a little.

Your eyes moved between his in a long gaze that pleaded for forgiveness you knew you didn't deserve. Your mouth was dry as you began to speak, and you croaked, "How could I not have?"

Joe scoffed, rubbed a palm at his mouth and looked away from you. It was the space you needed, the distance the loss of eye-contact granted to get all these dangerous feelings out. 

"It.... it was magic." you sighed, and saw Joe crumble, his head fully turning away from you as you moved memories to the forefront of his mind. 

"It was so beautiful, Joe. It was real, all of it was. We went and flew south together, and it was never meant to be more than me getting you out of that meeting... I just wanted to get you out, give you the break you so desperately needed. They were all saying it, how you needed a break. And I risked my internship because it almost felt inhumane what they were making you do. I'd seen your schedule…" 

Joe impatiently shook a knee in and out of over-stretching, and you knew it was because they were difficult words to accept. You watched Joe's face scrunch up, brows knitted together, and he was completely open. All vulnerable, all real. Nothing exaggerated.

"You lied to me," Joe's voice sounded like it was made of glass, and you instinctively ran a hand down his arm to clasp his hand. To your surprise, Joe let your fingers intertwine and squeezed your hand impossibly tight, desperately clinging on.

It might have been a moment of weakness from his side, but that would be fine. If Joe was to snatch away his hand in a second, at least you, got to hold his hand for that single second. It was more than you deserved, you were well aware.

"I did," you breathed heavily, closed your eyes and lowered your head. Accepted that Joe had seen the worst of you. "I did and I am sorry, I should've told you right from the start, but then–" 

"But then you didn't," 

You let your other hand reach up to cup his cheek, and Joe immediately leant into it, closed his eyes and granted himself this little moment of closeness.

"But then I didn't, and now..."  

You didn't need to finish. 

A silence followed, and for a second, your mind went back to where you were. You were in the alleyway behind the restaurant you worked at - currently were working a shift at. Any minute your manager was probably going to come out and get you. 

"And now you didn't take the job," Joe finished your sentence for you, and for a small moment, you thought he was going to step away. Let go of you. Walk away without looking back.

But he didn't.

Instead he blinked tears into his lashes and looked down as he let the hand that wasn't holding onto yours play with the ties of your apron that was wrapped around your waist.

This wasn't the end.

"I'm so sorry," you repeated yourself as you blinked tears down your own face, your hand now sliding down Joe's chest. You tried to hold yourself together as much as you could, and then promised, "I'll do whatever I need to do to make this right. I fucked up. This is my fault."

Joe let go of your hand and brought both hands to your waist before letting his forehead fall against yours.

"You should've taken the job," Joe whispered before sniffing thickly, exhaling wetly through his mouth. "It would've made it all so much easier,"

Had you taken the job, Joe could've just let hate take over. Slot you into a box labeled terrible people alongside others that wronged him in his life. But now it was all fucked up because not taking the job meant something to Joe.

Mistakes.

They were all mistakes.

And people... people made mistakes. All the time. Never intentionally. Mistakes were never intentional.

Joe felt you shake your head a little against his, and your bottom lip trembled, but you sounded surprisingly solid when you said, "Taking the job would've meant losing you. I'd rather lose a job than destroy every ounce of a second chance I know I don't deserve,"

Little did you know that the minute Joe learned that you didn't take the job, you'd been granted all the second chances you'd ever need. Joe found himself suddenly made from second chances then, all of them individually crafted specifically for you.

That's when Joe's arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into a hug that made your knees nearly give out at how much you wanted it. Your arms slung around his neck, and Joe pressed his face into yours. It was all wet.

When he spoke again, his voice was muffled but rough, not angry but strengthless. "You're all I can think about, no matter how hard I try not to." He burrowed deeper, gripped harder and you felt the shudder of a sob as you pressed your full body against his. "I've only known you for like, a second, but I can't stop thinking about you,"

Fucking hell.

You were in the alleyway, hugging each other tightly after weeks of hatred and humiliation and guilt and regret, and you were both crying.

"I'm sorry," Joe whispered when he collected enough breath to shape the words, and his words took you off guard.

"No, this is my fault," you reassured.

"I'm sorry," Joe said again, and it made you move back enough to take careful hold of Joe's face. You had to dip your head to force eye-contact, to make him look.

You wanted to tell him he didn't need to be sorry. You wanted to say he had nothing to be sorry for. You wanted to let him know again that this was all on you. You wanted to repeat your words until they didn't feel like real words anymore.

Instead Joe leant in and kissed you.

He came in harsh, and it was deep and intimate from the get-go, his tongue in your mouth and coaxing yours into his, his breathing erratic from crying, lips and tongues smacking - it was fucking obscene, but so easy to drown into. It was wet, and salty, dried tears mixing with fresh ones, all dramatic, drenched in pent up emotions that had built up for weeks. 

You let Joe maneuver you back up against the brick wall, which scraped harshly against your skin and hurt the back of your head, but you didn't care. 

Joe's grip on you strengthened as did the pressure of him pushing himself into you more, like he was working out deep-seated anger, which, yea, kind of checked out, and you made a noise that sounded so stupidly fragile, you had to pretend it wasn't you who let it slip. 

There was no need for pretending, though. Joe had already swallowed it, and responded with a moan of his own. 

Joe was kissing you, none of it gentle but instead violent, and breathless, and you didn't want this to end, ever. Wanted Joe close forever. 

Joe pulled back enough to ground out, "Up," as his arms curled around your backside and with a little hop, you were up in a powerful hold. You immediately locked your legs around Joe's waist and without a single inch of separation between your bodies, Joe sighed deeply into your mouth as your fingers scraped into his hair on either side of his head.

Close.

You could feel Joe's erection bulging tightly in his jeans.

This is what you meant when you said that it was magic. You belonged in Joe's arms like this. This was a thing of pure beauty. This was the earth pulling the moon. The moon pulling the oceans, creating high tides Joe didn't really know what to do with. You were ethereal. This was everything.

This was birds escaping their cages, leaving the cold weather for others to deal with, flapping wild wings, and flying south.

Birds escaped their cages when the backdoor of the restaurant swung open and interrupted you. You were asked if you were going to come back inside since you were on the clock, and Joe said, "No, she’s not." You looked at Joe, all confused, still held up in his arms and pressed against that brick wall and asked him, "I’m not?" It wasn’t enough to make Joe laugh, nowhere near, but you could see a little smile that only lasted a second. It was the first stretch of wide wings, feathers reaching out, finally free of constrictive confines.

Birds left the cold weather when you woke up in Joe's bed the next day in the early morning sunlight in the nude, soft limbs tangled, hearts singing and healing, and he smiled at you before telling you he just got off the phone with his publicist. The job offer was still standing, and if you wanted it, Joe thought you should seriously reconsider. "You’d make such a great publicist," he said. "Not yours," you carefully joked, and he laughed, "No, not mine."

Wings flapped wildly and took you up high into the air when weeks later, you were talking to a client in the kitchen at the office and Joe walked by but stopped to blow softly into your ear before carrying on. A tease, a sure-fire way he knew he was going to make you blush and get all flustered. You only raised a quick shoulder to it, powered through, facial expression unwavering, and the person you were talking to had witnessed these types of things between the two of you so often, they didn’t even acknowledge it. Just kept your conversation going as you both heard Joe chuckle to himself before he entered a meeting with his team.

You flew south, crossed borders into warmer weather when, about an hour later, you saw Joe wait for the elevator after his meeting and you decided, as payback for earlier, to quickly join him for the ride down. You joined a couple of other people, and then when the doors closed and everyone stood facing the same way, you placed a warm palm over his crotch with a straight face and Joe had to close his eyes and bite his lip to make sure no noises would slip out. When the doors opened again at the ground floor and everyone filtered out, the two of you remained and Joe whispered, "This is not the same as blowing some air into your ear," and as a reply you squeezed, and Joe couldn’t wait and so didn't wait for the doors to close before he launched himself at you.

Joe'd been right when you'd first met: lone birds were bad luck.

These two birds were flying south and there was no fucking way one was going to leave without the other.

One for sorrow. Two for joy.

And it was beautiful down south. Blissfully gorgeous. Warm, and soft. Tender, and fun. Real. It was all laughter, all scalp-scratches and pure, utter, sheer magic.

It was magic.

the end

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[violetswritingg]

Thunderstruck

Tyler Owens x OFC!

Description: When cowgirl meets cowboy after a year of no-contact and chaos ensues during storm season!

Rating: M (Mentions of blood and death in Tornadoes and storms alike, angst and loss of loved ones, car accidents, Tornado aftermath, and injury to characters, slight age gap (5 years))

Want to read the other chapters?

Click here

2

May, 2010

Oklahoma

They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and they would be right. And twelve year old Riley St. James was anything if not her father's daughter. She had grown up watching him chase storms, had been in front of the camera for a little more than some of it. The older chasers out there remember her as Rocket. Always causing chaos whenever her dad brought her around, getting under people's feet and just always wanting to be in on the action.

Not much has changed as she got older, if anything, it only got worse. She had been in front of the camera yes but she had been limited to watching from home with her grandma in bed, her Aunt tucked beside her on the couch, holding her hand and both holding their breath to see if Nathan would make it back to them in one piece. Even though most people would find that stressful the St. James family was anything but normal.

"Riley Josephine Thornton-St. James! Get back in this vehicle right now!" Her dad's voice barely carried out the open window of the Warlock, affectionately nicknamed the St. James mobile by the fans. The 'truck' was more of a tank. 3 inches of steel layered on the outside, a lowering capability on the suspension, a steel skirt around the bottom to keep out air flow and x-wing doors, three-foot-long spikes set up to pierce into the ground to anchor them in should a tornado get to close, or they want to get in the eye of it. Not to mention the double paned, double layered three-inch think Plexi-glass windows.

A street legal tank. In other words.

Riley's grin was bright, even though her baby hair was plastered to her face, despite her effort this morning to make sure it was all braided back when they had left the house, clothes soaked, but she had never been happier.

"One sec!" Riley was never one to be too far from her camera in moments like this. The expensive machinery wrapped protectively in its own little rain poncho and was snapping photos as fast as it could.

The storm they had been tracking since this morning had been playing with them all morning, looking like it was going to touch down and then not, moving on and doing it again. They had been trying to intercept but missing every time, it was shifting its travel and wind speed and making it hard to keep up. She saw something though, and her smile got even bigger, "Dad! Look!"

"What are you seeing Riley?!" Her dad, Nathanial St. James, called, leaning as far in her direction as he dared while in control of the car.

"It's gonna touch down! Go go go!" Her free hand slapped the top of the Warlock, clear Plexi-glass under her palm, layered with steel armor and providing the best views of a storm from the safety of inside and flying debris.

"You heard her." Nathan chuckled and shook his head, pressing on the gas and making the next right. On a muddier dirt road now, trying to get in the path of the storm. It didn't take long, Riley started to climb back in reluctantly knowing her dad wouldn't let her stay out there much longer, she was already pushing it as is. But then she noticed the spin of the clouds.

"It's trying dad! Look at the rotation!"

"I see it Nugget! I see it!" They both watched as the storm spun and spun, both holding their breath as the dark clouds descended little by little. Until-

"And we have tornado Gensis!" She screamed and Nathan whooped as it touched down, roaring to life and taking off. Running from them. Riley once again having her camera in her face and snapping away.

"Alrighty! We have a chance here to complete our objective for today here folks and that is getting those telemetry probes into this tornado here and getting a deeper picture of what it's like in the inner vortex of a tornado. We only have a couple sets of this kind of data and with each new set we expand our understanding of these kinds of storms, and when we understand them, we can start trying to figure out how to stop them or disrupt them."

"Why do you have to make everything so boring?!" Riley laughed like a madwoman, only looking away from her view finder for a second to roll her eyes at her dad through the Plexi-glass roof. The older man narrowing his eyes.

"Watch it." Riley just grinned and stuck her tongue out. "Real mature. We could go home ya know?"

"No, we can't. Besides, like you would just leave a chase right after one touches down in front of you." His daughter knew him too well. He chuckled and shook his head. "Are you seeing this dad! It stopped! Slow down!"

Nathan had seen it a second after his daughter, glancing at the video recorder set up beside him, attached to the panel beside the windshield and aimed inside the cabin of the Warlock. People like to see what was happening inside the vehicle too. He knew it was capturing every second and grinned before looking back at the tornado.

"It seems we are witnessing a tornado stand still here folks, what a time to be alive! And what better time than Rocket's first chase! Just a note that this kind of behavior isn't normal for the majority of tornados. It's only been witnessed once before by a friend of mine in last year." Nathan beamed as he started to take his foot off the accelerator. Doing as his daughter asked. Knowing another camera was catching it directly from the view out of the front windshield at the same time. Allowing him to focus on this moment.

The lens caught the proud look bubbling in the father's eyes as he watched his daughter laugh in the rain. Her camera abandoned around her neck as she stuck an arm out, the other securing her inside the car. Her head tilted back as she let out a happy scream. Her mind stuck on how the cold droplets stung her cheeks and made her feel like she had been struck by lightning. Her smile is wide as the sky, feeling the wind pulling at her clothes. Strands of hair getting pulled loose, but she couldn't care less. Skin sticky with humidity that dripped in fat drop along with the rain and small hail pieces that had just started to drop down and sting her skin with every strike.

"It's still not moving. Why is it not moving? It's not going to dissipate, is it?" She yelled over the wind, coming back to the moment. Looking down into the Warlock as much as she could. Her dad's eyes were on the tornado, though, his grin had faded and something settled poorly in Riley's stomach. "No, that's not right, the rotation is still going and – oh shit." She saw the vertices along the storm and her stomach sank. Vertices, to Riley's best understanding, were the streaks of little tornados you see when it's a strong tornado. And she could tell the wind had picked up.

Something dark moved in the corner of her eye and she screamed, dodging something, it was too fast to tell what. But she had a feeling that was a lot closer than her brain was letting her process at this moment, and she could feel the shift in the air.

"Inside. Now!" Riley immediately had her ass in her seat. Harness and seatbelt on and the double layered windows locked up in their storm position. "Good girl, hold on." Her dad reversed.

"No, no, no! Dad the storm is moving north!" Riley pointed to the obvious direction of the tornado, her voice approaching a shrill cry.

"The team already reported it, NWS has it and warning have been issued. We have to get out of here. It's starting to pick up speed." His voice was no-nonsense. Anyone of his team members would nod and follow the orders but not Riley. Because why would his daughter ever listen to him?

"No, we don't! We're still miles out," Throwing her arm to the front, chilled fingers pointing at the distance as if her dad couldn't tell for himself just fine, but she didn't care, she had a point to prove, "Besides, it's still going slow enough right now that we can catch up, get in its path, anchor, launch the probes, and get the data. But only if we go right now! There is nothing in its way, no towns, no nothing. It's the perfect tornado and you know it." She started to rummage around in the back, finding what she was looking for and wrapping a blanket around her.

"Riley." His tone was a warning, too bad his daughter took after him.

"Dad please. I'm not scared." Riley pleaded, "The car will protect us. That's what it's here for yeah?" Looking at him with her big blue eyes was enough to kill him, the father simply crumpling. He had taught her well; she knew what to do. He had to trust her.

"If it gets to be too much, you tell me, we turn around. Got it?" He checked in, needing her to know they would still turn around if she needed them too. No arguments, just fleeing the storm he's usually driving into.

"Got it." Riley nodded, her grin stupidly bright, practically vibrating, "Now North."

"You're gonna kill me one of these days kid." Her dad chuckles and shakes his head. Looking to the video recorder, "You heard her guys. Missions still on." He grabs his walkie and gets in contact with the other half of the team coming up around the back of the storm system. Getting a check-in of all systems go.

"Okay, here we go." Riley muttered after a couple more turns and a shift in direction they had managed to catch up. The swirling streams of air were dark and ominous and Riley shifted in her seat, Nathan noticing, Riley grabbed the tablet from the glove box, it wasn't huge, but it was new and she could see the doppler and radar readings on it. She looked to her dad, seeing what was happening and feeling her chest twist in anxiety, but she didn't show it. She trusted the Warlock, she trusted her dad. they would be okay.

"It's not an EF1 anymore dad." Riley informed, looking to the man with a worried downturn to her young eyebrows.

"I know, trust me I know." Nathan grit, white knuckling the steering wheel, his foot still on the gas. "Hold on!" He called as he sped up.

"It's right there dad!" The mam came to a screeching halt, pulling to the shoulder.

"Warlock lowered, Deploy spikes." Nathan spoke into his walkie, Riley reached to the center console and hit the button that did so. The sound of the hydraulics lost in the cacophony of wind and rain. "Rocket loaded," Nathan muttered into the walkie again, his finger hovering the launch button watching the roof, waiting. Riley watched him in awe, looking up at the tornado, wishing she could understand what was happening fully, but she still had a lot to learn.

The Warlock withholds and Riley is shaking. Her head felt like it was about the explode and the roar of the wind was all she could hear along with her dad screaming that the probes were launched and him telling her to hold on. The wind started to pick up more and the car groaned.

"Dad!" Riley's hands were white knuckling over her harness straps.

"It's okay! Just breathe baby girl. Just breathe! You're doing amazing!"

The car started to get pulled and tilt, Riley screamed as they were rolled down the side of the country road, landing upside down in an irrigation ditch as the tornado continued to push them around in the field. The heavy chassis is the only thing keeping them on the ground at this point. Nathan wanted to curse everything. What happened to the light EF1?!

"Hold on! We're caught in the back draft!" Riley grimaced as they were pulled back in reverse and then spit forward. She could feel the weight of the Warlock shifting and so did her dad. Nathan thrown an arm across his daughter's shoulder's to hold her steady as the Warlock was picked up. The tail end of it lifting up first. When they were fully in the air they didn't stick around long in the tornado. Getting tossed after about 10 seconds inside.

All Riley could see was grey, and dark. Debris flying all around them, her pupils blown as her adrenaline spiked and her palms began to sweat. Her throat closed up and she gripped onto her father's arm for dear life. It was over in the blink of an eye, but it felt like an eternity. And next thing she knew she was weightless before feeling the violent jolt. A crash. And then they were rolling. An involuntary scream left her throat and her dad held onto her tighter.

They rolled until, but by some stroke of luck, they rolled right back onto their tires. The tornado moving away from them now, but instead of demanding to follow it Riley was silent. Her chest fluttering with every sharp breath. Blue eyes wide, pupils blown wider as she shook in her seat.

"Riley? Baby? Look at me, are you hurt? Any blood. Hey, hey!" Nathan's matching irises searched his daughter's face as he questioned her. He was a little shook from that, he can't imagine what she's feeling. It was his raised voice and his hands on her face forcing her eyes to meet his that broke her out of her frozen state. Nathan's eyebrows scrunched heavily in the middle of his forehead, his every pore bleeding worry, fear, for his kid. Normal parent things. He could never tell what she was going to do and she did what she always does, send him for a loop, as she started laughing. Throwing her head forward against her dad's chest. Loud cackles leaving her as the adrenaline hits heavy and leaves her system fast now that they weren't in danger and her shoulders shake. Her dad grins a little but is still trying to find any injuries.

"I'm okay dad, I'm okay." She breathed, letting him push back some of her now dried hair, now much frizzier than before but that was the last of her worries, "I promise. But holy shit!"

Nathan was going to scold her but the water in her eyes cut off his harsh tone in his throat, tears were falling down her face as she kept laughing. And his eyes softened, petting her hair gently.

"I'm right here. We're okay. Just breathe for me, okay? Can you do that?" Nathan knew better than most what adrenaline can do to an adult body, but for kids as young as Riley it was something completely different. "Follow me." He mimicked a breathing technique he had learned early on to help him cope with this himself. He still did it after rough chases, or a close call. It helped ground him.

"Did we get the data?" she breathed out and her dad grinned. Grabbing his daughter's chin lightly and moving her head to annoy her. handing her the tablet with his other hand.

"I don't know, why don't you check?" Her dad smiles down at her softly, still keyed up for adrenaline and fighting off his own shakes.

Now that he knew Riley was okay, he got out of the car, leaving her to have fun analyzing, she didn't fully understand all the numbers yet and that was to be expected, she was 12. But she liked to watch them roll in, it meant they had accomplished something.

"Baby," her dad whispered as he opened the driver door up, motioning for Riley to come to him, holding a hand out. She scrambled over the center console and all it's switches and buttons. Her dad laughing at the excitement in her eyes. "There's something I think you'll want to see. Grab the camera."

When she had the camera in her hands and was on her feet in front of him, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky, he smiled softly down at his daughter. Brushing some of her hair down before placing his hand on the back of her shoulder and leading her out in the muddy field. Her boots squishing in it with every step. She followed where her dad was pointing and her breath was stolen from her lungs. The hail in the storm causing a bright blue glow among the shelf clouds feeding into the storm. It reminded her of a clear blue lake, perfect.

"Yeah, it is. You knew what you were talking about huh?" Her dad chuckled as Riley startled, not knowing she had said it out loud. Throwing his arm around his daughter's shoulders and pulling her into a brief side hug after she pulled her camera from her face. Both of them enjoying the moment, Riley's smile soft but content, her temple against his shoulder as she leaned into her dad. "If you feel it?" He whispered into her hair

"Chase it!" Riley chirped and giggled, Nathan following suit until they were both hunched over and gasping. Clinging onto another to keep upright. 

It was perfect. It was.

Until it wasn't.

[sweetjulieapples]

Dear Commander - Chapter 15: The Herald's Green Inquisition-issued Scarf

Cullen x Trevelyan

AO3 MASTERLIST

The Inquisition make their way to The Temple of Sacred Ashes to seal the breach. Cullen notices that The Herald is wearing a green scarf and proceeds to overthink that.

Full chapter below:

“And when the breach in the sky has been sealed, tell me - what happens next?”

This was the question on everyone’s mind. For most, it was a matter of duty. What jobs lie ahead after the breach and any left over rifts were done away with? What to rebuild? Where to next? For others, it was far more dire. The looming uncertainty of where to live and what purpose to have. What need has The Inquisition of hundreds of mages?

Chancellor Roderick asked the question, not out of curiosity, but of provocation. His words dripped with sarcasm, laced with condescending questioning in an attempt to provoke a reaction. The Ambassador, with all her grace, remained unfazed by his mockery. Maintaining a courteous smile and speaking with a gentle voice, Josephine responded calmly and with poise. “The Inquisition has plenty more work in Thedas, Chancellor. I do hope that The Chantry will come to see that in due time.”

“I will see that Val Royeaux puts an end to this heretical movement —”

“Roderick,” Juliette interrupted as she walked into the chantry. “It’s so lovely to see that you are working hard to do your part,” she stood at Josephine’s side and folded her arms. The ladies exchanged a subtle glance before Juliette continued, “Helping prepare to seal the breach and not getting in anyone’s way at all.” She smirked and with a sarcastic whisper added, “The Maker must be so proud.”

Roderick sneered with disgust. “Mock if you will. Your very presence is a blasphemous assault against all that is holy.”

Juliette's laugh burst forth abruptly, a harsh, cackle that seemed more of a snort than a genuine response. "That's a tad dramatic, no?" Roderick glared at her crude reaction. “It’s funny you should say that though, Chancellor,” Juliette said smugly. “I was actually sent here by Mother Giselle to fetch you. I doubt she’d appreciate waiting too long.”

He screwed up his face with frustration and snapped, “That is not what I meant and you know it.” He swiftly turned and made his way towards the exit, leaving Josephine and Juliette behind with amused smiles.

“I’m most grateful for Mother Giselle’s timing.”

“Oh, I haven’t the faintest clue where Mother Giselle is or what she’s doing. I just wanted him out of my sight,” Juliette confessed with a proud grin.

“Oh,” Josie laughed. “Very nice work, Herald.”

Juliette tilted her head to the side as they began to walk towards the war room. “Can’t you just do your thing, Josie? You know, a whisper here, rumor there…” A mischievous grin grew on Juliette’s face. “Could you start a scandal, get him booted from The Chantry?”

“Very easily,” Josephine laughed. “Believe me, I’ve thought of it more than once.”

“You have far more patience than I,” Juliette laughed. She stopped and gave Josephine a warm smile. “You’re really good at this, you know?”

“That means a lot. Thank you, Herald,” Josephine replied graciously. “I’ll be a moment longer yet but the others will be in soon. I’ll see you in the war room shortly?”

Juliette's smile widened in an exaggerated show of cheerfulness. “Oh, I’ll be there,” she said, the forced brightness in her voice not quite masking her exhaustion.

When Juliette pushed open the door to the war room, her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sight. Cullen was leaning over the table, the soft glow of candles casting warm light and gentle shadows that highlighted the strong, chiseled lines of his features. He glanced up once hearing the door open. Their eyes locked in that instant—an electric, unspoken recognition passing between them.

The air seemed to thicken with tension as Juliette stepped inside, her steps hesitant as though she contemplated turning to run away. She could feel her cheeks flush slightly, a nervous warmth spreading through her. Cullen’s gaze, though steady, revealed a flicker of surprise and something softer, more vulnerable, before he quickly looked away to clear his throat. The silence that followed stretched out, heavy and awkward, amplifying the unspoken emotions between them.

Juliette made her way to the end of the table, her fingers grazing the map where The Western Approach was marked. Cullen offered her an awkward smile in lieu of a proper greeting.

“Tell me you haven’t been here all morning,” she said, mustering her best bravado.

Cullen, his head bowed as he flicked through reports, replied without looking up, “I haven’t been here all morning.”

Juliette’s laugh was a mixture of amusement and challenge. “Now, look at me and tell me again without lying.”

He answered with a soft chuckle, slowly lifting his gaze to meet hers. Guilt spread across his face as he admitted, “Not all morning.” Juliette narrowed her eyes and shot him a playful smirk.

“There is still much to do, however. Perhaps I should have come here earlier.”

“It will be over soon,” she said softly, a hint of sympathy in her voice.

Cullen’s expression fell, his face taking on a crestfallen look. The lines of exhaustion on his face deepened, and his shoulders drooped just a touch, as though the thought of closing the breach meant more than he was letting on.

“There will be plenty more to do moving ahead, Herald,” Cullen spoke quietly, his words laced with a touch of sadness as he busied himself and avoided eye contact.

Juliette caught the subtle shift in Cullen’s expression. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him, her gaze lingering on the signs of discomfort that flickered across his face. As she looked to his eyes she began to wonder when he might have last slept. The dark circles under his eyes and the pallor of his complexion spoke of fatigue. He seemed stressed—something not unusual for Cullen—but there was an added layer of unease, a sense that something was different this time.

Juliette wanted to ask if he was alright and offer her support, but the words caught in her throat. She decided it was better not to overstep and chose silence instead. She didn't want to intrude on his personal matters...again. She remembered how uncomfortable he had looked that night in the chantry when she had asked about his vows.

She observed the tightness in Cullen’s posture and the distant look in his eyes. It felt like there was a barrier between them, as though he was unapproachable. She took in a sharp breath, opening her mouth once again, only to let the words die unspoken.

The memory of their conversation in the chantry felt like a different world now, a time when laughter and lightheartedness flowed easily between them. Juliette recalled the moment when she could simply be herself, free from the weight of her title as The Herald of Andraste. The connection they shared seemed so genuine and effortless that night, a stark contrast to the distant and guarded demeanor she saw in Cullen now.

As she watched him , with his walls firmly in place, doubts crept into her mind. She wondered if their night in the chantry had been nothing more than a fleeting dream, a side effect of Adan’s potion distorting her perception. The warmth that had once sparked between them now seemed like a distant memory, obscured by the current coldness.

Juliette was distracted by a wave of uncertainty as she replayed their past interactions in her mind. The connection she had felt seemed so vivid, so real—yet now, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it might have been nothing more than a figment of her imagination. She remembered the moment clearly, that fleeting spark that had seemed to pass between them, only for Cullen to retreat soon after. His sudden departure left her feeling disoriented and questioning herself.

She wondered if she had misjudged the situation, perhaps coming across as too eager or intrusive. The lingering doubts made her second-guess whether she had somehow pushed him away. Despite these uncertainties, Juliette held on to the significance of their shared moment. Even if it was brief and ended abruptly, it was a memory that she wasn’t willing to let go of.

She closed her eyes, and with a sigh, fell back on what she knows best - self depreciating humor.

“That’s a shame,” Juliette said with a forced grin. “I was hoping to take a really long nap after I saved the world.”

Cullen’s eyes slowly lifted from their downcast position, a glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. He allowed a small, playful smirk to break through, his eyes reflecting a subtle spark of mischief. “What is it they say? ‘No rest for the wicked’?” he said, his voice carrying a gentle, teasing lilt.

Juliette let out a sudden, high-pitched giggle that echoed through the room. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” she said, her voice laced with playful teasing.

Cullen responded with a soft, breathy chuckle. Before he could speak, they were interrupted by the sound of Chancellor Roderick’s voice booming from behind the door.

“Where is she?” his voice reverberated throughout the chantry, showing his irritation.

“Where is who, Chancellor?” Josephine asked, feigning ignorance.

“Trevelyan! That lying little…”

Cullen waved his hand towards the door with an amused smirk on his face. “As I was saying…”

“Oh, lovely. He’s back already,” Juliette muttered under her breath, her earlier lightheartedness giving way to a resigned sigh.

“I’ll handle it,” Cullen said with a calm, dutiful tone. His smile suggested he was more amused than bothered by the interruption. He stepped out the door and called loudly, “Chancellor! Haven’t you done enough?”

Juliette listened to the bickering unfold from behind the closed door of the war room with a faint giggle, muffled behind her hand.

“Now, now, Chancellor. Let’s be civil,” Josephine chimed in, her voice carrying a slight patronizing edge as she attempted to reason with the irate chancellor.

“I demand an answer, now!” Roderick yelled.

“Do not raise your voice at our Ambassador!” Cullen retorted, his arms folded tightly across his chest. “This is a place of worship.”

Roderick twisted his face in disgust. “Oh, don’t give me that garbage, Templar. You’re running your rebel Inquisition from here, corrupting Thedas under Andraste’s name. You should be ashamed.” He stepped closer to Cullen, his voice rising with urgency. “Now, let me through. I need a word with your so-called ‘Herald’!”

Cullen shook his head and lied, flawlessly, “She’s not here, I haven’t seen her at all today. Perhaps you should try the stables.”

Roderick's eyes narrowed as he took in Cullen's response. His expression shifted from fiery resentment to a cold, calculating suspicion. The crease between his brows deepened, and his lips pressed into a thin line, revealing his doubt.

“Really now?” Roderick said, his tone dripping with skepticism. “The stables, you say?” Roderick shot Josephine a sharp look before returning his gaze to Cullen. “Very well. I’ll check the stables,” he said as he turned on his heel with a brisk, almost exaggerated stride. “If this, too, is more deceit, you’ll be hearing of it.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Cullen mumbled as Roderick slammed the chantry door shut with a resounding bang.

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension dissipating into a mix of relief and bemusement. The door to the war room slowly cracked open, revealing Juliette peeking out cautiously with a guilty grin on her face.

“Leliana should hurry herself, we need to get this war council underway before he comes back,” Cullen said, gently pushing past Juliette as he moved back into the war room. She froze, as though a bolt of electricity had shot through her when his gloved hand brushed against her arm.

Cullen, now focused on the scattered reports on the table, barely noticed the effect his touch had on her. “We’ve got work to do,” he said, his tone now practical , as he shifted his attention back to the documents.

Juliette blinked rapidly before shaking herself out of her daze. “Yes, absolutely,” she said, attempting to regain her composure as she followed him into the room. The faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her efforts to appear poised.

The breach thundered and boomed far louder at the temple ruins, its noise competing against the howl of strong winds and the sickening song of the red lyrium crystals. The sky above was a tumultuous swirl of colour that seemed to mirror the chaos below.

Cullen looked down from the terrace by the temple entrance, or what was left of it. While his men assembled below as instructed, he watched with unease as debris and broken remnants of the temple’s structure floated in the air, suspended by the will of the lyrium’s force. He slowly glanced up to the sky, squinting at the light that shone down from above. Much like the breach, Cullen’s thoughts were a chaotic swirl of a mess.

Grand Enchanter Fiona led the mages into position, each group lining up along the crumbling parapets of the temple at various elevations. The explosion months earlier had left parts of the building exposed, in such a way that the structure now resembled an amphitheater.

The noise of the gathering crowd grew louder as more people arrived to fulfill their duties. All these people. If something were to go wrong...

Will the mages have sufficient control over their magic? What if the power overloads? Could it overwhelm her? What if—

Cullen’s thoughts splintered like broken glass, each shard a new worry. The crowd around him seemed to move in slow motion, their faces blurring into a backdrop of anxious noise. I should have asked her if she was ready. If she was feeling alright about all of this.

An officer stepped into his field of vision and greeted Cullen with a dutiful “Commander.”

Cullen flinched at the unexpected interruption, then forced a nod of acknowledgment as his men marched past, heading to their designated positions within the temple. He shook his head, trying to clear the intrusive thoughts, but the pressure in his mind felt like a vice tightening with every passing moment.

Not that it would matter if she was ready. It has to happen now.

He stepped closer to the edge of the terrace, peering down at the rows of soldiers below. They stood in precise lines, their uniforms immaculate and their postures rigid. They look impressive, Cullen thought, his eyes scanning the disciplined ranks. Harritt’s done an excellent job commissioning those weapons. The soldiers’ readiness seemed to contrast with the turmoil in Cullen’s mind.

But is it enough? Have I overlooked something? Are they truly prepared for what’s coming? They’ve yet to face demons. What else could escape that thing? How much power will it take to close - but what does she mean ‘It will be over soon’? There’s so much more we could — argh, that red lyrium!

Heat radiated from the lyrium crystals embedded in the walls at the entrance where Cullen stood waiting. The noise, a rhythmic, pulsing song, vibrated through his body like a heartbeat or a war drum, trying to exert its will over him. He took a few steps back, suddenly aware of the dryness in his mouth and the aches in his shoulders and legs.

Perhaps I should have said something earlier today. Did I seem too cold? I likely did. I’d hate for her to think that I wasn’t interested in speaking with her. I should have … what are they doing? Those will break!

“You there!” Cullen shouted over the howling wind, his voice barely cutting through the storm. He squinted against the stinging snow that lashed his face, the fur coat that sat atop his shoulders flapping wildly in the gale. Striding towards the nearby officer, he pointed urgently at the healers struggling with supplies down the stairs on the opposite side of the temple.

“Tell those healers to use both hands when carrying the crates, or better yet, send some men to assist them. We can not afford to damage the supplies at a time like this!”

“At your order,” the officer said with a fist raised to his chest.

Cullen folded his arms and looked to the sky once more. Every swirl of green light and thunderous crack that boomed above felt like a grain of sand slipping through an hourglass, each moment amplifying his anxious anticipation for The Herald’s arrival.

I should have asked her if she was ready. I never asked. Is she feeling alright? She must be nervous.

A sudden jolt of pain seared through Cullen’s head, as though a sharp, electrifying bolt had pierced his skull. A wave of excruciating pain surged through him, immediate and overwhelming, making him clutch at his temples. Determined not to let the routine headaches blur his focus, he fixed his gaze to the mages as they waited patiently for the ritual to begin.

That lyrium. The first thing we need to do is clear it out once this is …why did she say ‘It will be over soon’? Surely she cannot be thinking about leaving. Not now, not after —

Cullen’s eyes widened with alarm when he spotted someone veering off course. “Stop!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. “You’re going the wrong way! It’s not structurally sound—you must use the western staircase! Has your lieutenant not informed you?” His gaze was fierce, reflecting his frustration and urgency as he tried to correct the mistake before it could lead to disaster. He shook his head in disbelief.

I asked them to barricade that exit. What else could they have neglected? I should go down there, make sure everything’s in order before she arrives… No, I must wait for her. I need to talk to her—set things right. I’m distracted. I can’t let this, her, cloud my judgment. I can’t fail them. I must give—

Cullen’s thoughts abruptly halted as he caught sight of Juliette approaching the temple’s entrance. His gaze snapped toward her, and for a heartbeat, everything else seemed to fade away. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes locked onto her with an intensity that momentarily silenced the tumult in his mind.

With Cassandra by her side and Solas trailing close behind, The Herald laughed as a gust of wind swept in, embracing her with its wild energy. Her hair flew in a chaotic dance, and the fabric of her coat billowed around her. Reacting swiftly, she reached up to secure the scarf that had been draped loosely over her shoulders, her fingers gripping it tightly to prevent it from being whisked away by the gust. The scarf was green, the same hue as the fabric worn by the soldiers in their uniform. It was a vivid reminder of her role within The Inquisition.

She chose to wear that today. What could that mean?

Cullen’s stance softened, and a flicker of something—hope, anxiety, or perhaps a mixture of both—crossed his features. The stern lines of his face softened, if only for a moment, as he prepared himself to address her, his focus now solely on the figure that had captured his full attention.

“Herald,” he greeted with a firm, formal voice, his posture now rigid, with his arms folded across his chest.

As she stepped closer, he noticed the worried expression on her face. Her dark brown eyes gazed into his, revealing vulnerability and nerves that momentarily disarmed him. Cassandra, standing by her side, tapped her arm with two quick, successive taps—a silent gesture of acknowledgment, signaling their readiness to move forward without further words. With that, Cassandra and Solas began to descend the stairs, leaving Juliette behind to speak with The Commander.

As the wild wind roared around them, Juliette’s lopsided smile quickly gave way to a look of frustration, her face partially hidden by the billowing strands of her hair and the scarf she struggled to keep in place. Her brow furrowed slightly, and she squinted against the force of the wind, her attempts to shield her eyes and maintain her composure evident.

Cullen's features tightened as the wind whipped around him, the gusts pressing against his stern expression. “Are you alright? You look—” he began, but his words were swallowed by the howl of the wind. He grimaced as the wind tugged at his coat and hair, making it difficult to keep his posture steady.

“Pardon?” Juliette yelled, her voice nearly lost in the roar of the gusts. “I didn’t hear you!”

She quickly moved in closer to him, and he slightly lowered his head to make himself heard above the wind. “Are you feeling alright—”

Before he could finish, another strong gust swept Juliette’s scarf from her shoulders, causing her to release a surprised squeak. Instinctively, Cullen lunged forward, his quick reflexes allowing him to catch the scarf mid-air.

He took a moment to steady himself before turning back to Juliette, his expression softening despite the harsh conditions. He extended the scarf toward her, their hands brushing briefly as she reached for it.

The touch was brief but electric. Juliette's fingers lingered against his for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and she looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something deeper—an emotion she had been trying to keep hidden. Her heart skipped a beat as she met his gaze, feeling a swirl of unspoken attraction and vulnerability.

Cullen’s own eyes held a fleeting softness, a stark contrast to his usual stern demeanor. He noticed the tremor in her touch and, without thinking, placed his gloved hand over Juliette’s, as though to ensure her grip on the scarf was extra secure.

Juliette’s cheeks flushed deeply, a vivid contrast to the chill of the wind. She looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and fascination. The contact, though muted by the gloves, was still electric, sending a rush of heat through her. She quickly withdrew her hand, her heart racing as she fumbled to adjust the scarf around her neck. Even amidst the wind’s chaos and the surrounding noise, the moment they shared felt oddly quiet and serene.

Cullen stepped back and moved around the corner of the entrance, finding a small nook that offered some shelter from the wind. He drew in a deep breath, his pulse racing from the lingering of Juliette’s touch. She followed him, her gaze expectant, waiting for him to break the silence. Deciding to avoid the awkwardness of asking about her a third time, Cullen pressed forward with the conversation.

“The best of the mages are ready, Herald. Be certain that you are ready for the assault on the breach. We cannot know how you will be affected.”

“Well, that’s not exactly the reassurance I was hoping for, Cullen,” she said with a nervous laugh, glancing down at her hand. The glow from the mark was erratic, flashing and pulsating as she neared the breach. Cullen followed her gaze, their eyes meeting again. He offered her a soft, sympathetic look. “Am I shaking?” she asked quietly, her voice trembling. “I’m shaking.” She exhaled deeply, the breath coming out in an exaggerated puff as she turned away from him. “Let’s do this before I change my mind,” she said with newfound determination.

As she moved towards the stairs, the wind hit her with a fierce gust, making her cry out in surprise. “This weather!” She glanced back at Cullen with a faint smile. “Looking forward to clear skies and warmer climates.”

“Good luck, Herald,” He shouted.

“Thank you, Commander!” she called back, her voice just barely reaching his ears as she descended the stairs.

Cullen stood at the top of the stairs, his gaze lingering on the spot where Juliette had vanished. A heavy, disheartening weight settled on his chest as he watched her disappear from view.

So she is leaving.

[crabs-with-sticks]

Happy Friday! How about: remembering tiny things about the other from the Trust Building prompts?

For Solas and Lavellan?

Thanks for the prompt!! Hope you enjoy :D @dadrunkwriting

Ghilara x Solas, 637 words

Ghilara was at her desk, teeth gnawing at the pencil in her hand, one problem away from snapping it in two. The words on the paper in front of her swum before her eyes, the letters morphing into an indecipherable pile of glyphs for all she could understand them. She groaned, leaning forwards, forehead against the table eyes closed, trying to pretend she was somewhere else. Somewhere calming. Somewhere outside. Somewhere without a gauntlet of paperwork to run. Her back slumped, arms hanging loosely by her sides. “I can come back if now isn’t a good time?” She shot up straight and blinked at the sight of the humble elven apostate standing in front of her desk. “Solas?! When did you get here?” He chuckled, “I did knock, so I thought you must have been out. I was only coming to drop something off for you.” She winced, “you weren’t waiting too long were you?” “Rest assured, I have only been here a few seconds. But perhaps you should take a break from your work.” “Josephine will kill me if I don’t get this done,” she groaned, head falling back onto the table. “Perhaps I can tempt you with something then.” She still had her eyes shut but heard him place something on the desk next to her head. She frowned, waiting for him to do something else. Then the smell hit her. Sweet and buttery, a twinge of spices, and the faint smell of dried fruits. She didn’t waste the time to sit up, just twisted her head to look.

“Hearth cakes!” She squealed. She went to grab at them, only just remembering herself in time. She was a grown woman last time she checked, not ten. She coughed, clearing her throat and stood, picking this basket of the cakes up with her. “Consider myself convinced Solas.” She walked over to the couch, grabbing a blanket off her bed as she went. She curled up and patted the spot next to her, holding the blanket up for the other elf to slip in beside her. He was warm against her and she pulled her knees up, leaning her back against his arm. She grinned at him. “Now, you are going to have to eat some of these soon, otherwise I will eat them all. I wouldn’t want you to go hungry though, so consider yourself warned.” “I shouldn’t worry about that Ilara, I have more than enough for us both.” She looked up, mouth stuffed with a cake already and only then noticed the basket he had placed next to them on the couch. She peered over and in and saw a veritable feast. There was a small dish of hall butter with wildflowers mixed into it- borage and chicory. Beside that was a basket filled with dried fruits from the free marches, drizzled with sticky honey. And those were only the things she could see. She looked at Solas. “What is this Solas?” Her words were puzzled, ranging onto the edges of suspicion. They were still in that strange limbo just before romance, still blushing when the other caught them looking, still thinking back on the softness of the others lips and wondering how it would compare to the material world. Did he want something? Did he expect something? He seemed to sense her thoughts. “It is- Just that you mentioned last week that you were sick of the human nobles food. How it all tasted weird. And I was just in the market today and there were a small group of Dalish who had come in to trade. I thought it might remind you of your home.” She softened. “Oh. Thank you Solas.” He inclined his head, the corners of his mouth slipping into the beginning of a smile, pink gathering on his cheeks.

[indecentpause]

Find the Word Tag

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea to find the words celebration, proud, listen, jaw, and height! thank!

from The Black & Blues:

celebration:

You cradle the phone against your cheek like it’s a precious artifact, like if you’re not careful the voicemail will disappear, the job offer along with it. Oh man. Oh man! You got the job! You take a moment to jump around the room in celebration, then you call her back. “Student center, Elizabeth speaking.” “Hi! I mean, hello. This is Meara Ryanne calling back about your voicemail? I’d like to accept the job offer.”

proud:

You can do this. You have to do this. You’ve worked so hard to get here. So you muster up every drop of fury and energy and sound that’s been buried deep in your chest from the moment you heard that first Green Day album when you were eleven, every lonely day at school and every night you cried yourself to sleep and every time your mother hit you and your father called you a faggot, and you force it out, and fuck, you do it. And it sounds awesome, even if two of your fingers are bleeding and you feel like you’re going to collapse by the end. David makes multiple copies of the session for you. One for each you, Danny, and Jaisyn, so you each have a physical backup of the electronic copy. One he keeps in the studio in case your computer crashes or your dorm burns down. The sun is painfully bright when you get back outside, but all your friends are so hyped, and even though you’re exhausted, you’ve never been so proud to be a musician. And you are going to sleep for the rest of the weekend.

listen:

“Do you really think [therapy] would help?” Josephine offers an encouraging smile. “I think the right one would.” “What if it’s not the right one?” Because that’s what scares you. That they’ll think you’re not doing enough. That they want you to quit the band because they think it’s too much stress. Worse, that they’d be homophobic. “Then you talk to your social worker or whoever’s in charge and tell them it’s not a good match and you need someone else,” Kris says. “If the clinic is a safe one to be at, they’ll listen. And I know without insurance it’s a lot harder, but if it ends up not being safe, we’ll help you find somewhere that is.” You rub at your nose with the back of your hand and sniffle a little, but you don’t cry. Finally, you nod, once, firmly and a little aggressively. “Okay,” you say. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll try it.”

jaw:

Monika smiles, bright, genuine. “That’s great! And you’ll be okay with the crowds?” Your brow furrows a little, but it’s a genuine question. “No, that’s not the kind of thing that triggers them. It’s… it’s having too much quiet. It’s getting stuck in my own head that causes most of the problems.” “So keeping busy is what helps most?” You nod. “Hm.” She taps her finger against her jaw a moment and says, “I know you work a lot, and that with the night shifts, it’s hard to get out during the day. But what if you had a standing meet up outside band practice? With a friend, with Josselin, with a group. Volunteering somewhere? Maybe having that to look forward to could help. What do you think?”

height:

For the first time in your life, you’re grateful Dicky taught you how to throw a punch. You storm up behind them, trying to ignore the fact that you’re skinny as hell and hope that having the lucky genes that made you taller than average is enough to scare them off. The scariest things about you other than your height are your battle jacket and the black and chrome studded bracelet you wear. You never got into dyeing your hair or piercings like Dicky and the others. First it was because you had to stay under the radar. Now it’s because you’re happy with how you look. “Hey!” you bark. The bullies turn around and the kid looks up. “The fuck is your problem?” you snap. One of the bullies holds his hands up and says, “Whoa, man, nothing’s going on. Chill.” “If nothing’s going on, you won’t mind leaving, will you?” “We–” “Will you?” you press.

tagging @winterandwords @frostedlemonwriter @abalonetea @albatris

@mecharose @bluejay-in-write

to find the words lose, wait, dance, and float!

[aheathen-conceivably]

oh. my. god. the writing in your latest post!!!! it's just sublime! the insight into jo's head is so raw, i love it

Ahhh my Nonny friend! Thank you so much.

Jo has really been getting into my head this arc. Like little by little she’s been taking over my brain, and this post was the final nail in the coffin if you will, or peeling back that last layer of the onion to see what’s been festering beneath the surface of the flapper we met and fell in love with (which, also, the one Gio fell in love with too 👀).

This whole arc her life has been being stripped back, not only from the excitement and the glamor of the roaring 20s, but also her sense of self. The deceptive simplicity of their lives now (and the 1930s as a broader idea), has not revealed a better, calmer life for her the way it has for our other three characters.

She’s kind of known that from the beginning though, right? But she’s been putting all of her (considerable) strength into trying to make it work, because despite everything, Josephine wants to do what she perceives as the right thing. She wants to be loyal to her family and the people she loves, and she knows that she derives joy from their presence. Only this is fighting with her need to reestablish her sense of freedom and autonomy, in turn creating a toxic cocktail of love and guilt thats then amplifying the feeling of being trapped all the more. To the point that this is absolutely a woman who is very close to snapping…

But what does that breaking point look like if it happens where she is now? Feeling powerless and trapped with no one to blame for her misery other than herself? When she’s consumed by her past and her pain almost to a delirious degree?

Or what if she can find a way to “outsource” these feelings? To pin them on someone or something and justify her actions so that she doesn’t have to deal with the unpleasant knowledge that it’s coming from within? Welp. Welcome to arc two babes.

[thatlovinfeelin]

Flightless Bird | eighteen | Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Synopsis: Josephine Wilson Miller is alone for the first time in her life. She got married after her first year of college and became a housewife, but that life is gone now. So she runs to San Diego, to her childhood best friend Jake, where she meets the man who could very well be her salvation.

series warnings: unplanned pregnancy, just pregnancy in general, talks of infertility. past mental and emotional abuse. anxiety. talks of women's reproductive systems (idk)

“Mommy! Hurry up!” Wren said, dragging Jose behind her, “Auntie Nat twell her!” 

Natasha only laughed and walked next to Jose. They were on their way from the parking lot to the tarmac for the airshow. Jake was set to be flying and Wren was begging to go see it. Although, Jose tried to normally stay away from Airshows in general just in case someone certain was there. 

“So, I have some news,” Nat whispered to Jose. 

“Oh?”

Natasha just smiled and twisted her wedding ring, something Jose noticed the female pilot did when she was a little anxious. Her and Jake got married two years prior in a small ceremony on the beach. Not to big and fussy, as both of them wanted simple friends and family. A certain Blue Angels pilot was not able to attend, so Coyote was Jake’s best man while Jose was the maid of honor, with little baby Wren as a little flower girl. It was beautiful and simple and perfect. 

“You can’t tell anyone yet,” Phoenix stated, “But I’m pregnant.”

Jose stopped in her tracks, much to Wren’s dismay who let out a little wail and tried with all of her might to pull her mom forward. 

“Oh my god, Nat!”

“Are you mad? I know you-”

“Mad? Oh my god no, I’m so happy for you!” Jose exclaimed, hugging the other woman, “Does Jake know yet?”

Natasha shook her head, “No I haven’t found the time to tell him yet.”

“How far along?”

“Six weeks? I think? I have a doctors appointment next week to confirm,” She explained, “But I’m so scared to tell Jake. We’ve talked about kids, but not yet.”

“Well, I’m assuming you weren’t using anything?” Jose asked carefully. 

“We weren’t trying,” Nat swore, “But we weren’t not trying.”

Jose couldn’t help but laugh. That sounded like the most Jake and Natasha thing. 

“I want Gampa Mav and Nenny,” Wren whined, snapping the two women out of their hug. 

“Okay, let’s go munchkin.”

Wren was dressed in little combat boots, one of the flight jackets that Jose bought for her before she was born, and a pink tutu. She looked like a little combat princess as she strutted in front of Jose and Nat. 

For a nearly four year old, she had a lot of personality. Maybe too much for her own good. But Jose loved her daughter with all of her heart. There wasn’t a thing in this world that she wouldn’t do for her.  

“Thank you for coming today,” Nat nudged Jose with her shoulder, “I know it means a lot to Jake to have you guys here for this.”

Jake was set to be a part of a super important Legacy flight, one of the only f-18 pilots chosen. He couldn’t stop talking about it for weeks prior. Jose wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen him so excited for something related to work before. 

“We couldn’t miss it,” Jose shrugged, “Wren wouldn’t let me.”

“Mama we see Unca Yake?” Wren asked. 

Jose couldn’t help but smile at the way that Wren said Uncle Jake. They were still working on her speech, but the little munchkin was getting better and better every day. 

“Yeah sweetheart, we’ll see him soon, I promise,” Jose replied, “But let’s find Gampa Mav and Nenny first, okay?” 

She nodded enthusiastically and wiggled a little in Jose’s arms. Little Florence loved Maverick and Penny, now lovingly known and Gampa Mav and Nenny. They stepped right into the role of grandparents to Wren without a second thought. They were there to support Wren and Jose with no questions asked, even after Jose forced Braldey to leave. 

They never once asked what happened between the two of them. Instead they just loved Jose and her little daughter with all of their hearts. 

“Gampa Mav!” Wren wiggled out of Jose’s arms and took off running towards the older pilot, “Nenny! Auntie ‘Melia!”

“Shit,” Jose cursed, chasing after her little girl. 

Wren jumped into Mav’s arms, hugging the older man as tightly as she could. Mav laughed and hugged her back, not seeming to notice the fact that the little girl ran off without her mother. Penny was a little more attentive and scowled at the little girl as best as she could. 

“Wren, what have I told you?” Jose was out of breath as soon as she reached them, “You need to stay with me!” 

“But I saw Gampa Mav and Nenny.” The little girl blinked up at her mother, not seeming to understand. 

“You can’t run off-”

“Mav! There you are!” 

Jose froze. She didn’t dare turn to look at the source of the voice. A noise escaped her, sounding like a small wounded animal. She didn’t even check to see if they were going to be here today. Normally she checked every air show, but Jake was so excited that she was going to come and bring Wren.

“Bradley,” Mav said, handing Wren over to Phoenix who finally caught up, “Didn’t expect to see you until later.”

“I had a second and saw you guys over here.”

Wren looked at Bradley with wide eyes. He was in his blue and gold flight suit, looking like a hero in his own way. Wren was mesmerized by any pilots. She loved planes, and the people that flew them. 

“You fwy pwanes?” 

Bradley was stunned for a second. He finally realized who was standing next to Mav and Penny. She looked so different, and yet exactly the same. Her hair was longer, and she was thinner than he’d ever seen her. So much so it made him wonder if she was eating enough. But he didn’t have the right to worry about Josephine Wilson anymore, not when she kicked him out of her life. 

“I uh-” He cleared his throat and directed his attention to the little girl in Phoenix’s arms. 

Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that this was the little baby he once loved with all of his heart. She was so much bigger, with wide eyes that mirrored her mother’s. She looked just like Jose. There’s no way that wasn’t her daughter. It made him want to cry. He loved her like a daughter and he missed out on so much of her life. 

“Yeah, I do,” Bradley smiled at the little girl, forcing down the emotions. He leaned down so he was eye level with her, “See that blue and yellow plane over there?” he pointed down the way a little to where all of the Blue Angels were lined up, “That one is mine.”

“Woah,” She replied, “Auntie Nat can we go see?”

Nat carefully looked over at Jose, who still hadn’t allowed herself to look over at Bradley. Jose nodded quickly, watching as Nat along with Mav, Penny, and Amelia made their way towards the row of planes. 

Jose swallowed the thick lump in her throat. She felt like she could cry. She always did her best to avoid Bradley at any event that the Blue Angels could be at. Jake always understood. He hated it, but he understood. She wanted to be mad at him for not warning her that he would be here today. She felt tricked and like her heart was going to explode.

“Jose.”

She closed her eyes and licked her dry lips before opening her eyes and turning to face him, “Hi Bradley.”

“It’s good to see you,” He said slowly, carefully even. 

“Yeah, um, you too,” She replied, “You look good.”

“I am. Pensacola has been good for me,” He replied, voice sounding like gravel. 

She nodded. She wasn’t sure what she expected him to say. What do you even say in a situation like this? How is she supposed to do this? How was she supposed to face Bradley, when all she wanted to do was be held by him again? She wanted to feel his lips on hers again. She wanted him more than she could dare to put into words. 

“You look…nice,” Bradley had to force the words out. He wanted nothing more than to hold her. 

“Try keeping up with a three year old, see how you look,” She responded quickly. 

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I genuinely meant you look nice.”

She looked down at her little sundress and sighed. She hated this feeling between them. This rift, the distance…whatever it was. She wanted to feel close to him again. But she didn’t know how she could ever feel close like she used to. 

“She’s gotten so big,” Bradley was looking over his shoulder now, looking towards Wren, “She was so tiny when I left.”

“Bradley about what I-”

“Bradshaw! Time to get ready.”

His eyes closed as he took a deep breath. His shoulders squared before his eyes opened again and he was back to being Rooster. He forced a smile and held out his hand for Jose to shake. How do you even shake hands with the man you’re still madly in love with?

“Nice to see you again, Josephine. Look for me in the skies.”

She wanted to say more. Wanted to beg for his forgiveness. Wanted to beg for him…just for him to give her a second chance. But he was gone before she had the chance. He disappeared into the crowd of people like a leaf disappears in the wind. 

Jose was still holding her breath when Natasha came back to stand next to her, “Mav has Wren. Are you okay?”

Jose’s eyes started to water, “I didn’t realize how much I missed him. And then he’s right here and I can’t say any of the things that I want.”

“You’ll get your chance,” Natasha assured her, “Now c’mon, Jake is up next. Don’t want to miss him.”

Later that night, Jose was sitting in her bed alone. Wren was staying with Jake and Natasha tonight, so the house was silent. Jose didn’t quite know what to do with herself. So she poured a big glass of wine and settled in. What she didn’t expect was her phone pinging at eleven, with a text from a number she never expected to see again. 

She found herself scurrying out of the bed and fumbling her way to the front door. Her breath was ragged as she threw the door open to reveal Bradley standing there. He looked too good to be true. 

“Hey,” She said stupidly. 

Bradley was on her in an instant, hands cradling her face, “Tell me you don’t want this.”

“I-” She took a second, “I want you. I always have.”

Then he was kissing her like she was the only thing that mattered in the whole world.