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goth-mami-writer · 2 months

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♡•Feel Sick•♡ (pt.2)

~(AU) Leon Kennedy × f!Reader fic

⚠️TW⚠️: plot contains themes of age gap romance (reader is 18yo), obsessive behaviors, mild instances of stalking, coercion, emotional manipulation and graphic smut. (Please interact with discretion ♡)

♡Find part one {_here_}♡

@badasseddy 🖤

《 You saw as both your parents were passed out drunk on Leon's guest sofa downstairs in the basement living space he prepared for guests and you shook your head while you moved for the door.

After slipping through the sliding glass that would lead you into the dock house, you got this twinge in your stomach. Something was telling you that this wasn't about getting away from your parents at all- you were excited to be alone with Leon. With that thought, you tried to set aside any feelings that might make your heart race a little faster but it quickly failed.

“It's just a little crush. Just something stupid because I'm a girl and he's a guy…” You said trying to reason with yourself internally.

When you entered the large open boat house where Leon already stood aboard the cabin cruiser he owned, you felt yourself hurrying in pace to get across the dock as he called out towards you,

“There she is. About to think I got stood up.”

He unlooped one of the many ropes away from the holding post on the dockside to begin untying the tethers from the anchor and you chuckled in reply coming aboard,

“I don't have anything better to do.”

You saw a cooler placed on the deck near the steering mount and you searched for a bottle of water he might've had cooling inside. But when you opened the lid, you saw it was loaded with long neck bottles of beer hidden amongst the ice.

You turned your head mischievously seeing that with his attention elsewhere right now, it would be too easy to get away with sneaking a beer. But there was one problem with that plan- you'd never be able to crack away the metal cap on top without a considerable amount of help, so you sighed.

Then, tried a new approach.

“Hey Leon?” You asked over your shoulder with a falsified charm in your tone,

“Yeah?” He answered.

“Can I have a beer?”

He quickly turned his head with narrowed eyes to that surprising inquiry that almost became an immediate ‘hell no’. First he wondered where you got the guts to actually ask him to drink while still being underage but something then crossed his mind. He made sure the boat was finally untethered completely and he crossed his arms to face you from across the deck,

“You want to drink a beer?”

You only nodded your head with a feigned confidence that Leon could see right through and he nodded to see how long it would hold up once you actually went through with this stunt.

“Alright, sure.”

He moved to the steering mount where he already had a beer opened for himself in the cupholder and he handed you the bottle with a heedful mention before you took it,

“If you can finish one drink of my beer without making a face from how nasty it tastes, you can have it. Deal?”

You accepted what sounded to be a challenge and took the glass bottle in your grip. You placed the narrow rim to your lips and took a courageous mouthful of the summer lager that he enjoyed. You tried to keep your face hardened away from a reaction to the taste. It was awful. Bitter and somehow aromatic like gasoline in your throat. When your lip started trembling, quickly you faltered and grimaced from disgust.

“Yeah, spit it out. Go on.” Leon said with a nod as he glanced over to the edge of the hull.

After you spewed out your first taste of beer, he chuckled watching you try and smack away the flavor as he began to sit in the driver's seat to begin turning the key in the ignition. You felt the engine power up and you took a seat behind him, feeling stupid for that little act when he mentioned,

“Why do you wanna grow up so fast, huh? Beer doesn't make you any older or wiser, sweetie.”

The boat began to drift away from the dock slowly in reverse and you just said with a shrug as you got comfortable on the padded seat on the back deck,

“I dunno. Just never tried it?”

When the wind began to toss your hair and you felt the gentle waves of the water jostling the boat as he drove, you felt at peace for the first time in what felt like weeks. There weren't any deadlines for graduation or fees due by the end of whatever. It was nothing but his silence.

You pulled your hoodie closer as the wind began to bring a chill to your skin since you only wore your bikini underneath your thin sweatshirt and Leon noticed you balling yourself up into the seat. After a final swig from the beer he had kept on the boat's dash, he shifted the engine into a lower gear, letting the motor hum lower as their speed lessened on the water more steadily.

“You wanna drive?” He asked turning his chair away slightly to face you and your smile brightened immediately to the offer.

You came closer, wondering why he wasn't getting up but then watched as he merely scooted back in the seat, patting the space he'd made now with his knees open. Your blood chilled to know that you'd practically be sitting in his lap to do this and you couldn't hesitate now.

When you eased down into the seat, your hands met the wheel of the boat, only to be instructed by Leon on how to drive when the water was this dark and you listened as he spoke over your shoulder. He shrugged off his dark windbreaker to put it over your shoulders to keep you warm and you blushed darkly, feeling relieved that you were both somewhat still in the dark.

“So-” He said over the quieter noise that consisted now of the soft water beneath the hull and the murmuring engine,

“Tell me why this little boy of yours decided to ditch you. Is he moving away to college or something?”

“No-” You spat with your expression immediately souring at the thought.

“It's dumb, I promise.” You said, hoping to not annoy him with your teenage melodrama of being dumped by a loser who only wanted to screw you.

“Can't be that dumb if it had you that upset.” Leon mentioned with his hands suddenly resting over yours on the wheel.

Your heart began to gallop but you watched as he steered the boat now into a secluded spot edged with trees on the shoreline and he turned off the engine with a jerk to the ignition. His arms were curved around you as he maneuvered and fidgeted with the dash and you watched his focused face assure that all of his dials and meters read correctly before he removed the key.

“Come on-” he said tapping your shoulder to stand up,

“I just got a new sectional put in below deck, let's go stretch out while you tell why you let some jerk off get you so tore up.”

He rubbed your arm sweetly as you stood to begin heading down the narrow stairs that took you below deck. He had a quaint living space that included a small counter made for bare minimum kitchen appliances but a much larger sitting room complete with a modest TV and entertainment center. He turned on the television with a flick from the remote and moved to one of the kitchen cabinets as you sat down on the sectional sofa.

He tossed a long string of red licorice in your lap from behind and then plopped beside you, shamelessly manspreading in his cargo pants when you looked over in thanks that he remembered your favorite candy.

You bit a small piece from the end, fidgeting with the wrapper and then saw that he was still in wait with a playful expression for the rundown on your breakup and you sighed to begin explaining,

“He said…I'm too naive- whatever…that means.”

“Oh, bullshit.” Leon said with his arm stretched over the back of the sofa as the TV chattered between you,

“You? Too naive? He's an idiot, first of all. What- so he just…wanted someone to screw around with?”

You blushed deeply, afraid to tell him by that reaction that you were infact a virgin with very little experience so you only shrugged, mentioning that your ex didn't go into much more detail at the time. Leon only sat down his beer with a clunk to the small coffee table and mentioned with care in his tone,

“Well, it sounds like you dodged a bullet, kid. Don't let someone make you feel bad like that. There's no way he's worth it.”

You looked down with your ankles crossed now to the tension of feeling that it needed to be said to complete the picture of what happened so you said plainly, not even looking up to speak,

“But..he's right though?”

“What do you mean?” Leon asked in reply, turning his gaze over.

You felt your blood boiling now, and you felt even your chest becoming rosey when your voice turned mousey in a stutter,

“I'm….I mean- I've..never-”

“No way.” Leon interrupted, seeming to sit up straighter in case he was understanding this wrong. This was a delicate question and it was none of his business more importantly but he became...curious,

“Sweetheart, are you…a virgin?”

Your crossed ankles began to shake and Leon neared closer watching you quietly fall apart to tell him ‘yes’. A tender smile came to his mouth when he noticed your nerves unravel to explain exactly why but he calmed you with a touch against your shoulder when he said to ease you,

“Baby girl, you don't have to explain yourself. Trust is all it's about and you're making all the right choices, okay? Don't let some dumbass kid pressure you into that because he'll feel cooler. That's all it is.”

You nodded, but felt your face becoming hot with what you knew to be embarrassment and he only shushed you again before pulling you into a soft hug. You fell into his arms with all of your worries in the past few days all seeming to bubble up at once. Sniffling into his collar, you felt reduced down to merely inches of dignity left but he cupped your head as he held you against him sweetly.

“I just want to be like other girls. I wanna be pretty and…noticed-” You said with trembling lips amid your tears while Leon petted his hand over your hair to soothe you.

“You are pretty, baby. What are you talking about? You're a knockout.” Leon mentioned to console you as you became wrapped around him,

“Hell- i'm a little surprised to know you're a virgin. Must be something wrong with these boys. You don't trust them, do you?”

You shook your head as it rested on his shoulder and his hand caressed your back as you wiped the remainder of your tears. His mouth calling you pretty felt like a final straw at long last confirming what you knew to be true. You did have a crush on Leon. It was true and it wasn't something small.

Not anymore at least.

You felt more comfortable than you had been in months and that warmth finally gave you the courage to say what you'd realized in those fleeting moments,

“I only trust you, Leon.”

He felt his expression change hearing that. Your father was his best friend in the world. More than that, your father was his same age- meaning he, himself, was old enough to be your father. If that was the case, why was he feeling as though you wanted more? Did he…want more too?

Even if you did, it was wrong. He thought of what your dad might do if he found out…his best friend had eyes for his only daughter. With that image, he began to draw back mentally until it felt that there was another card being placed into play:

You weren't a child anymore. He loved you. You were his girl and his sidekick through and through.

You were intelligent and level headed. Maybe a little naive but he couldn't expect more from a girl trying to navigate a world after high-school. He thought of these boyfriends and how quick they'd be to ruin something so innocent as a ‘first time’. It made his blood hot thinking of some kid using you as a piece of meat. The protective instincts he felt might end someone on sight for mistreating you and one thing only felt right.

His next idea felt crazy and it was but his heart began to flutter and his veins began swelling with what he felt to be want. The realization set in for what he wanted, which…could be what you might've wanted to and he felt daring as he whispered to you while you lied against him,

“Your first time needs to be special and I don't want some little boy taking advantage of you, doll. You're a woman now-….

His touch still petted against you but now at the small of your back as he continued to whisper into your ear warmly with words that engulfed you with heat however and your body began to burn with delight,

“You want me to help you earn a little experience…with someone who's gonna keep you safe? I'd never hurt you, sweetheart and if you trust me, we're halfway there.”

Your cheeks ignited in blush and your legs shook, to which he cupped a firm, steadying palm against your knee to ground you in place while you replied,

“Leon…I won't be..good at it- I probably can't even..make you-”

“Slow down-” He said, interrupting your words so you wouldn't worry further about trying to please him,

“This isn't about me. This is about showing my girl how she needs to be treated when she finally gets a boyfriend that's worth a damn. I don't want you to impress me, I just want you to feel comfortable and feel good. Think of it like a little practice run, okay?”

You often wondered how someone could ‘learn’ to have sex and now that the opportunity arose here with him, your skin was crawling with need. Your reddened face pulled away, weighing all the cons of this insane, absolutely shameless idea of having one of your dad's friends take your virginity but what held you tightly was the truth that Leon would never hurt you. But if your father found out, your world might possibly split in half from his fury and you needed to know that this would stay secret.

"You swear you won't tell my Dad?” You asked before letting yourself go through with this, but a smile was growing on your troublemaking mouth.

“He won't know a thing…unless you tell him.” Leon said, nodding his head in confirmation, asking for your last word of consent and you agreed.

He stood up and tilted his head to the side where there was a small sleeping space towards the back of the cabin, the bed was small but you didn't care.

“Come on, let me show you…how this is done.” He said taking your hand to begin leading you. 》

Part 3 coming soon! ♡

#leon kennedy au #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil 4

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ethereal-cleanse · 4 months

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Gemini Season Pick-A-Card Spread

As May comes to an end, we have finally reached Gemini season. Being ruled by Mercury, Gemini encourages both spoken and internal truths as well as using our voices for our community. This pick-a-card spread is about what truths you are called to speak during this time and what this season will open for you! Thank you guys for all the love from my first one, and your encouragement means everything.

(Answers are below choices)

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Pile 1: [Text Transcript]

Cards: 8 of Swords, Queen of Cups, 4 of swords (+ 4 of wands), Queen of Swords (+9 of Swords), The Sun

In this group, Gemini season is here to teach you that you are not stuck or trapped despite what your mind might try to convince you. You can free yourself from whatever is holding you back, even if that is yourself.

A truth you can speak this season is admitting how you truly feel in a calm, steady manner, and you can call on the energy of introspection (getting to the core of your feelings) and understanding yourself more through talking it out with others. This honesty will help with your anxiety, deepen your connection with yourself, and bring you closer to those around you! If you heed this, Gemini season will grant you optimism, peace of mind, and joy.

Manifestation oracle card(s): Practice Gratitude

(Nature) Spirit Guide: Charity “Time out. Take nothing personally. Patience and compassion are needed all around at this time.”

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PIle 2:

[Text Transcript]

Cards: 7 of cups (+ 4 of wands), 8 of pentacles (+ nine of wands), The Hermit, Page of cups (+10 of pentacles), 10 of cups

If you were drawn to pile 2, Gemini season will teach you to discern and take care with your decisions. Many options are or will be presented to you soon, and while it’s exciting, we must remember that all that glitters isn’t gold.

If you’ve been putting in continuous effort on something, a truth you should speak is admitting if you’re feeling fatigued and overwhelmed or asking for assistance, and an energy you should call on is giving yourself alone time and finding ways to decompress. You can connect with yourself through creative endeavors that may lead you to prosperity and spread a sense of contentment, abundance, and connection in your family life or relationships. Gemini season could open up a time of fulfillment, blessings, and your happily-ever-after. Manifestation oracle card(s): Know you are loved (Higher Self) Spirit Guide: Change “Stay calm. Adapt. Accept change. Things will work out in surprisingly beautiful ways.”

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Pile 3:

[Text Transcript]

Cards: Ace of Cups (+ Queen of Pentacles), Ace of Pentacles (+ five of Pentacles), 3 of Wands (+ 7 of Pentacles), 3 of Pentacles (+ The Fool), Kings of Swords (+ Temperance)

For our third group, Gemini season is here on two sides: A) a new emotional/romantic beginning that will be stable and grounded, or B) a time of emotional healing and financial stability.

A truth you are being called to express is being open about needing help, whether that’s seeking emotional or financial support from your support system or seeking help from external resources in times of need, and you can draw energy by having patience with yourself and stepping back to see just how far you’ve come even if there’s still work to do. To deepen your connection with yourself and others, you are encouraged to step out of your comfort zone, interact/collaborate with others, and embrace the unknown! If done so, Gemini season can grant you a balance between your mind and heart and a quiet confidence you didn’t know you had in you. Manifestation oracle card(s): Detoxify

(Nature) Spirit Guide: Forgiveness “Live, love, and learn.”

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PIle 4:

[Text Transcript]

Cards: 4 of pentacles (+ 5 of pentacles), The Moon, 3 of swords (+ Strength), 2 of pentacles (+ 6 of pentacles), The Lovers (+ 4 of swords)

For our final group, Gemini season is here to teach you to not hold on to things so tightly, be that people, our past issues, and especially money out of fear, as it may prevent you from experiencing new opportunities. A truth you are being called to speak is respecting your inner wisdom, intuition, and emotional intelligence. You may be getting messages, dreams, or hunches you’re dismissing, but they’re trying to guide you, and you can call on the energy of your inner strength despite the loss you may experience by releasing control. To deepen your connection to yourself and others, you must find. balance of protecting your heart and trusting others, especially through sharing your “abundance”, be that money, kindness, gratitude, or support. By doing so, your love of self or any new relationship will quell your fear of closeness.

Manifestation oracle card(s): Attend to The Details (Nature) Spirit Guide: Deprivation “Tap into the abundance of the Universe by sharing your heart.”

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And that's the end of our readings! I hope at least one of these messages resonates and can help you transverse this season more easily! Until next time, meet yourself with love and grace.

#gemini #gemini season #pick a pile #pick a card #tarot pick a card #tarot reading #long post

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galedekkarios · 6 months

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male oc (tav, durge) x gale fic rec list! ✨

in no particular order + heed the tags, ratings, and warnings before reading!

Beneath the read-more you'll find 40 recommendations with their summaries attached. Enjoy!

Anxiousscrambles' entire BG3 collection (17 Works).

You'll find lots of Gale x Durge, featuring Dreuer, a middle aged tiefling warlock (who I love so much). They've written about Gale and Dreuer's journey from the beginning to the end of the game, as well as their life after (and a little of Dreuer's life before, too). Both characters grow and develop across each fic, both as individuals and partners, and it's just so lovely to witness them both being written with such care. There's a bit of everything, too, when it comes to content.

the night so black that the darkness hummed by persephoning

Kidnapped on his way to Waterdeep, elven bard Ruadhán Riddon wakes up with a blinding headache, an illithid tadpole in his eye, and no clear way out of either mess. To his dismay, the magnitude of the situation only grows worse by the hour, but there's more good hidden beneath the darkness than he expects.

Ship to Wreck by Snailsnol

“Teach them spell shield, first.” Anyir instructs as he limps back to his desk. “Yes, but my issue is how. I can’t simply tell them to cast Spell Shield while I throw a fireball at them.” Anyir sighs like that’s a great disappointment. “And additionally, you are a proficient martial fighter, the throbbing of my thigh is proof of that and I cannot teach them any of the skills you or your siblings share.” “Oh-khay. Explain Spell Shield me like you would your students.” Anyir says, scooting his chair up next to Gale’s. He barely resists the urge to bump their knees together. “Speak, magician.” ----- After defeating the Absolute, Gale finds himself alone in his tower again despite extending a hasty invitation to the artificer, Anyir. He desperately tries to shove the disappointment from his mind and bury himself in teaching his students, but his fool heart clings to it like a web. Until one day he is no longer alone and realizes existing is much different when you aren't the only one doing it.

you say love, i believe it to the bone by alliancedogtags

"Gale," the paladin finally spoke, voice quiet under the crackle of the fire pit and the breeze in the trees around them. "Surely you know that with or without your magic, you are still an incredible man?" Gale couldn't answer that. He tried, mouth opening, but no words came out of it. His usual charm of words, the security blanket of knowledge, the comfort of a conversation's upper hand. There was nothing. Not when they were alone. Not when Mylo looked at him like that. his finger traced the muted purple line down the side of his neck. "Gale," Mylo repeated again, softer this time, and something laced his words. Not just something, no - a certain sadness that escaped in the pitch of his voice. Not even pity. Sympathy. "Great Gods, Gale. If only you could see yourself the way that I do."

Sage and Lavender (Series) by TheMoYouKnow

Evander: 42, Half Wood-Elf Ranger. Hails from the area just outside Baldur’s Gate. Gale: 38 (probably), Human Wizard. Famously from Waterdeep. One shot pieces written at random for different points in their timeline, but the series will always be reordered chronologically after a new piece is posted.

Gale & Devour (4 Works) by CaptainNautical.

The link features four fics for Gale x Devour, a Dragonborn fighter. Devour is a beautiful character, and his relationship with Gale is so tender and touching in every fic.

Ironfire by scarvenrot

But beneath Gale’s hands, and in his arms, the withering ache of muscle turned from burden to gift, because it called such a fount of affection out of him. Every stroke of his fingertips, each careful brush of lips against flesh was a balm against burns, ice to swollen bruises, warmth to the joint. Krull didn’t have the right words for it all. You make me feel strong, was all he could say. Stronger than I ever have. Was this how his mother had felt, Krull wondered, when she had come across that bumbling, balding man and his goat farm besieged by goblins all those years ago? Did he unwittingly charm her with his earnest humanity, his love for his little home and his modest life, his empathy for livestock that ran so deep that he called them his family? Krull had never asked, and he didn’t know. But he imagined it must have been so. That it was written in his blood for him to love a human being so fully, so simply, for every fragile piece of who that person was. *** A half-orc barbarian and a human wizard fall in love.

gale gets good dick anthology (Series) by auriadne

maybe a joke, maybe not. mostly home to m!durge/gale fic. (op chiming in to say that this is some extremely delicious well-written smut, just in case the "maybe a joke" bit threw you off!)

Taste You On My Lips by Djarfskald

Gale had only intended to impress Tristan with a bit of magic and show him how it felt to touch the weave in the ways he did. What Gale hadn't expected was what the tiefling showed him when they shared that moment. All Gale could think about was seeing more, and it turns his already interesting predicament into something wildly unexpected.

Under the Stars, in Your Arms by weenietime

Gale had never been sure that scales would be a feeling he'd yearn for, but now he was finding himself bubbling with desire to run his hands along the textured skin below him. The warm surface was rough against Gale's softer skin, his human form pressed against the chest of a Dragonborn. He didn't have to imagine Altid underneath him anymore, because he was actually here; his hands gently grasping Gale's clothed love handles as he laid beneath him, warm breath tickling Gale's neck. (Aka me needing to write my first Tav and Gale makin' love underneath the stars)

Devour by Sylpherna

Gale contemplates the destiny Mystra had ordained, while Estevan begs him not to follow through. They fight, and then they fuck about it.

Skornweave (Series) by BoilingHeart

A cleric of Ilmater with a dark past falls for the wizard of Waterdeep. Both find in each other not just a new meaning of life, but the meaning of love and passion.

Shelter (Series) by Iselea

A series about my dragonborn Tav and Gale of Waterdeep. Hailing from Alaghôn, the capital city of Turmish, Tavraskirno Marivaldi is a dragonborn who ventured far into the Sword Coast to visit his adopted human sister who had settled into Baldur's Gate, only to wake up in the nautiloid with a tadpole in his head.

let it bleed through my fingers, a treasure in my hands by blazeofglory

Gale tosses his head to the side, practically writhing on the bedroll, and River spies a glint of silver, almost lost amongst Gale’s lovely brown hair. His earring. Mystra’s symbol. River cannot abide by Mystra's mark on something that belongs to him.

Magic of a Different Kind by Girlfoxgirl

My Githyanki Tav Genos and Gale share an intimate evening sometime following their first experience in the Weave. Character development and smut.

Cooking Time by Tal_Art (Tal_Monarch)

Gale panics when he sees smoke coming from the tower only to find Tav has attempted to cook.

My Hand That Will Not Harm You by goddessofcheese

The tent fell quiet again as he moved his attentions over to the other hand. The worries he’d dredged up wouldn’t quite leave but he found them easy to drown out by focusing on Gale’s high knuckles. His pulse, steady and strong beneath his grip. The fastidious cleanliness of his fingernails. Every so often he looked up, to make sure he wasn’t pushing too much into the mystery pain of what the wizard had to live with, but was glad to only see him with his eyes closed for the most part, fully absorbed in the relief. Pride flitted into Zen’s chest at being able to give that to him. Pride and… something else. Something… now altogether unfamiliar. He wanted more. ----- Alternatively, Gale finally accepts some help with the pain.

Wizards and Evil Lizards by SunflowerRose22

On a whim, the Dark Urge sneaks into Gale's tent one night. He's been craving the wizard for quite some time now and has decided to make Gale his.

Crow and Seagull by Subaruchan192

After two weeks at sea, Gale and Karasu finally arrive in Waterdeep. Both are looking forward to finally starting a new chapter in their lives together.

Want is a Four Letter Word by Saccharine_smiles

“Why did you–ugh–you confounding man!” The fear is evident in his voice and his fingers shake from where they begin the incantations of healing he knows. His eyes squint in agony at seeing Tav bloodied and beaten beneath him and he swallows the cry that claws at his throat knowing that this was his fault. “I like it when you use big words,” Tav says, head lolling onto one shoulder as the warm, soothing feeling of Gale’s magic overtakes him. It is the softest touch he’s had since the last time Gale had reached out to him with kindness. He is still not used to it.

I Want To Hurt You (I Want To Love You) by Brittany_Hamato

“I want to hurt you,” Tav’s voice rumbled from his chest, making Gale’s muscles quake and his chest tighten. “Excuse me?” “With your permission, I want to break you. I want to take you apart, piece by piece, and take everything you have to give, then take just a bit more.” Tav sat closer, his hand trailing across Gale’s shoulder blades, sending trails of electricity over his skin. “Please, gods” Gale choked on the aborted noise, it wasn’t quite a word, but Tav heard him anyway. Tav moved in closer, pressing his lips to Gale’s pulse as he nearly whispered his desires. His hands wandered lower, one supporting his back while the other tangled in his folded hands. “Your goddess can’t protect you from me,” Tav snarled, teeth pulling threateningly at his earring before continuing back down his neck, “and my god wouldn’t take away my toy.”

Forward, This Book is Dedicated To, Epilogue by upwards_descent

Gale is a disgraced and somewhat washed-up professor at the local prestigious college when he crosses paths with a handsome stranger at the library. Would this be the romance he needed to fix the hole in his heart, or was he just needlessly putting his own soul on the line once more?

fall away by whenwindwhispers

The Shadowlands have made our beloved party gloomy. Some members are becoming irritated by the smallest of things. For Gale, he is drawing the line at dirtying his favorite robes any further, and Whisper has the perfect solution: why not carry him? In short: Gale discovers he really likes being carried by Whisper.

Gum on your shoe (Series) by Lintu

1: Gum thought he'd been cursed to face the worst scenario taught to him by his people. Perhaps maybe a ghaik tadpole was the ticket he needed to see the world. Small segments of my tav, Gum, exploring Faerun and bonding with his new found companions. 2: "Wow. That's some sleight of tongue. Never seen that before." Gale watched as Gum stood, stolen ring in hand. "I have," Karlach replied. "But that's another story for another time." 3: Gale was left drowning in misery, the egg he intended to fry for breakfast past burnt and stuck to his pan. The very knowledge that he had turned Gum down, pushed him into the spawns arms, made Gale want to scream. --- Gale and Gum navigate both tadpole removal, abolishing the absolute, and their relationship.

My Many Tavs (Series) by upwards_descent

1: A series of snippets revolving around my Tav (Cairros Elrûn, a woodland elf Evocation Wizard) and his lover, Gale. Hella gay, super cute, with some bits of backstory for my boy sprinkled in. 2: Another series of snippets, this time featuring Gale and my other Tav, Rizal Aganaad the swashbuckling elder tiefling bard. A bit more angsty, a bit more kinky, just as fun! 3: A third collection of snippets romancing Gale, now with added Dark Urges! Featuring Autumn A. Augustus, soon-to-be redeemed human Great Old One warlock

A Talk About Control... by Faetality

Gale wants to talk about his pursuit of a certain artifact. Kai’chrell finds himself less than enthused with the idea and the urge… well. It raises its head at the worst of times.

You are Beautiful, Like I've Never Seen by Eternal_Starr

“You’re worth something to me…” He promises. “Worth a lot to me. And you are important in this world, even if you don’t feel it…” He watches as tears begin to swell in Gale’s eyes before he blinks hard to push them back down. He turns to meet Altair’s gaze, a warmth glowing inside them. Silence creeps in again. Neither of them dare to break it. ----------- Gale feels his death will make his life worth something. Altair claims he's worth something now.

Gale's Folly by arcanewriter

“Another night, I want to show you my home. Waterdeep. Tonight .. can you just hold me?”

Well Rested by Lintu

The gang gets to Baldur's Gate and stays a night at the Elfsong.

don't accuse me of accusing you by sertuna

Elminster delivers a message from Mystra. Callesian gives his opinion on the matter. “If you have something on your mind, I'd surely like to hear it,” Gale spoke at last as they locked eyes. He paused in response, leaving Gale to witness the gears turning in his mind as he formulated a response. Every feeling that had been stirring within him that evening threatened to bubble over the edge. Callesian knew if he let out even an ounce there would be no slowing down. For all the good rapidly escalating emotions did a barbarian in combat, it wasn’t a conduit for rational discussions. At last, he settled on what to say. “No, I don't think you would.”

Silly, Silly Tav, Or: Gale Gets Buttfucked Through The Portal by faeblesmith

“It seems… unstable, somehow. Normally, magic this old is the most stable sort, with decades, centuries, even millennia of support. There must be something very powerful behind this mass of sparks. Just as Tav gets within arm’s reach, someone half falls from the portal. Ass first. Bare ass first. “Hello? A hand? Anyone?” Tav stares at the ass, unable to even think for a moment, let alone move to do anything about some man’s bare ass (and legs, quite a nice set of ass and legs at that) jutting out from… the sheer rock face on the side of a hill.”

The Stars Can't Compare by Brittany_Hamato

He wants to forget his goddess and Eliminster's words. Instead of worrying about the orb, or the decisions left on his shoulders, Gale wants to just spend a night watching the stars. Tav decides to distract him. Gale is definitely distracted and certainly not complaining.

Roar of a bear by Subaruchan192

Gale is awestruck the first time Karasu turns into a bear and due to this distraction, gets hurt. The bear gets feral and afterwards they share a moment of tenderness and maybe flirting- or whatever these idiots understand by flirting.

wordlessly and entirely by reddragoncrush

The hungers in Gale never quite died, but sometimes they were silenced. Or, perhaps, more interestingly, he hadn't done what he needed to sate them.

Even in Darkness by PerditionLaFey

Post- game end, Male Tav was injured and has lost their sight, maybe for good. Gale comes along to provide some much-needed comfort.

shake like the bough of a willow tree by deathishauntedbyhumans

They never last long like this, either of them. The few times they’ve made love directly after fighting something that has made an honest attempt to kill them have always been hot and dirty and rather to the point. Tav doesn’t mind, though— there have been other moments, other times where their lovemaking has lasted much longer, been much sweeter. This is different. This is… stimulation, for the sake of stimulation.

an incantation of tongue by sanquines (wraithes)

Gale's desires are a well untapped, the cool waters of his mind plagued with wanton ripples. In attempt to free himself of one man, he finds himself with two — a challenge even the prodigy struggles to wrap his mind and mouth around.

an abundance of moments by floralprintshark

Gale struggles with his feelings for Tav and talks to pretty much everyone about this except to Tav. (Tav called Suvi, they're a Tiefling bard with the urchin background)

Counting Sheep by Nightwang

“That’s not what I meant. I was thinking more of turning that big, beautiful brain of yours off.” “Oh really? Well now this I’d like to see. What great plan do you have, oh fearless leader? A sleep potion? Perhaps a nice chair to the head?” For the prompt Gale/Any - Cockwarming on the Baldur’s Gate Kink Meme

God of Ambivalence by SpaceMonkeySalsa

A tiefling Artificer trying to carve a new path for himself splits a large stone on a beach to discover something truly shocking: a wizard missing a hand and in need of a lot of help, and magical items. Lucky for the wizard, Elion happens to be a fount of magical items.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale x durge #bg3 gale #bg3 #bg3 fic #fic #one thing about me is i be reading 🫡

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untaemedqueen · 1 year

Text

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 14.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Your sickness came and went with the wind, almost as if Jeongguk's soup was some sort of magical brew that could save the universe in one fell swoop.

The days after that were simply transcendent. You were slowly coming to the realization that Guk will probably be the first and last great love of your life.

Until you got sick again.

It didn't make any sense, it came out of nowhere and it was more fierce than the first bout of illness you had almost two weeks before that.

You were bedridden for a day, violently ill two days after that and even now it's difficult for you to function.

Namjoon had to buy and set up a computer for you in the empty office that had sat alone in your mansion for years now.

Jeongguk has been ever patient and kind, loving like you cannot believe and incredibly accommodating.

It's really strange for you to feel so well taken care of especially when you're retching over the toilet making ungodly noises at the crack of dawn.

The past couple of days your boyfriend has been begging you to go to the doctor and finally you've heeded it.

You never enjoyed going to doctors, it's as if they got their licenses just to give out bad news. Nevermind the fact that the offices always smell weird and the air within them is practically palpable.

You don't know why all doctors need to give bad news but even today you've heard something grave.

So now as you sit alone in the garden maze of your mansion, you can only stare straight ahead.

You're dumb.

It's that simple.

You're impulsive.

You're fucked.

You've been a shell since the doctor spoke to you. Your heart had been beating so fast and so hard that you can still feel how your chest thuds painfully.

But now, you're simply a shell, void of any emotion.

There's an evening haze that lingers over the bushes of roses before you, it's thick and heavy like you'd lose the sight of your hand inside of it.

You simply stare at the sight before you, allowing your skin to become damp by the small droplets of dew that swirl within the thick layer of fog.

How did this happen? How did your life become the way it is now? What did you do to deserve this?

Once again, the walls Jeongguk fought to break down are immediately patched up and even thicker than before. It's a tragedy, really.

Or maybe the tragedy is finding love in your heart for him.

When your phone rings, it tears you from your mind numbing thoughts.

With lazy eyes and the tilt of your head, you look down to the ringing device beside you.

You have no feelings, no emotion. You want nothing more than to crawl into your bed and just wither away.

"Yes?" you answer, picking up the phone and lifting your hand into the thick haze before you.

"Madam, there's a Jeon Jeongguk here at the gate for you."

He'll never know why you're breaking it off. He'll never understand.

You, yourself, will never understand.

But the mistakes you've made with him are far too many to count.

To let yourself become lost and loving under his spell… It's unforgivable. To let yourself make such a mistake with him is… earth shatteringly impressive.

"He's not welcome here anymore. Please take him off the list. Jimin Park and Taehyung Kim too," you chirp, ending the call without another word.

The world around you is quiet for a moment, it's peaceful and lulling you into its clutches of madness before your phone begins to ring once more with a confused Jeongguk who could only want an explanation.

Silencing your phone, you stand. Your long black silk robe meets the soft, dewy grass underfoot and solemnly you make your way back to your mansion.

You can hear Jeongguk shouting your name in the distance, you can hear the horn of Taehyung's car blaring to no avail.

Once you're back in your sterile house and you close the back doors, the world is silent once again.

Jeongguk sits on his couch, arms folded as he stares at the screen of his phone.

It's almost as if he's trying to will it to give him a phone call with your name on it.

He doesn't know what went wrong.

What did he do? What did you find out at the doctor?

Hawking jumps up beside him, obviously missing the body who has been coddling him the past month. Guk can find no easy way to move, he feels sluggish and torn.

The Great Dane has to forcibly worm his strong head onto the escort's lap to even get some sort of attention.

"What'd I do?" Jeongguk asks his pet sullenly, burying his face into the top of his dog's head.

He was gone from your sight for all of four hours and now he's single and alone.

"Fuck!" he seethes through his teeth sharply, earning a weary puppy before him who he apologizes to for scaring.

He fucking loves you, he's all in in this relationship but to have no way of even contacting you? It's tearing him apart.

He knows you blocked his number, he knows you took away his privilege to get into your gated community, he knows it all.

But he doesn't know why!

Even Jimin and Taehyung can't even see you. What did he do wrong?

This feeling, this is different than when he was with Chloe. By the end of his time with her, he was a ball of angry and violent energy. Now, he's just an emotional mess who's scared and confused, heartbroken even.

"Let's go to bed," he breathes to Hawking, shaking his head.

You're going to work from home from now on.

You decided this almost immediately when you woke up the next day.

You weren't sick, you didn't feel any illness but you're not ready to face the world. Once you're outside of the gates of your community… anything could happen.

Grabbing your glass of orange juice, you sit down at the large desk within your home office. It's quiet in here with memories of Guk helping move stuff floating around the room like spiritual shadows.

Even when you woke up this morning the regret that lingered through your limbs was monumental. Jeongguk must be losing his fucking mind over you.

To have no explanation given, to rip yourself away from him so fast… you're causing him so much pain.

Chloe hurt him and betrayed him, that relationship made him into nothing. It brought him to lengths you wouldn't wish on anyone. And you're doing something almost as evil to him now…

He fucking loves you and you're… gone.

You can feel bile wanting to retch from you like you're a possessed demon and you can only think that this is what you deserve.

Turning on your computer, you stare straight ahead at the little teddy bear that sits atop the new couch by your desk.

Guk bought it and left it for you, a sweet secret present you very much adored.

"I thought you could use a friend while you work. Every time you look at the bear, it'll remind you of me and I'll always be with you."

With a whimper, you bury your face into your hands.

You hate this.

But most of all, you hate yourself.

Jeongguk bursts through your office doors with tired eyes that hold venom and fire within the pupils. The security couldn't stop him even though he had his access restricted and with a heaving breath he fixes his leather jacket.

"Dude," Namjoon guffaws, stepping out of your office.

"Where is she?" Guk inquires, waltzing with quick, angry steps towards your office.

"She's not with you? She didn't come in to work today, I dunno," Joon replies flippantly, folding his arms and leaning against the doorjamb.

When security arrives, your co-worker seems to grasp the situation just a tad bit better. He holds out his finger, telling them to wait as he takes in your disheveled boyfriend. "What happened?"

"She went to the doctors and then she fucking blocked me from everything and took away my access to see her! I don't even… I don't know what I did! I didn't do anything for her to act like this towards me!"

The blonde haired man before him fixes his glasses and he thinks carefully for a moment to weigh his options.

When you were with Guk, you were better. It's just that simple. Anyone could see it. You had a soul, you had emotions, it was really nice to see you in a comfortable light for once.

But you are casting him away… there's something wrong.

Namjoon has known you for years now and he knows that you're impulsive, he knows you're almost too ready to let things go at the drop of a hat but not with Guk.

You're invested -- were invested.

He can see just how broken and lost the escort is and even though he disliked him not too long ago… he can't help but feel bad for him.

"I'll pay Y/N a visit, see if she's okay and get some answers," your co-worker promises.

"Really?!" Guk gasps, widening his eyes.

"Yeah, I'll see what's up," Joon assures him, putting his glasses back on.

"Thank you!" the escort cries, coursing his fingers through his long black hair.

Namjoon hasn't been to your mansion since that fateful day, the day he realized he had absolutely no chance with you.

It was a cold slap in the face when he walked in on you. He finally understood in that minute that all the hoping he'd done for years now meant absolutely nothing.

You weren't his to have and it was that simple. And although it hurt him deeply to come face to face with reality, he's still your friend, he's still an adult. He still cares for you.

When he pulled up to the gates of your community, he was immediately let in.

Joon is confused with how to feel, if he's being honest. Should he be happy that he's still on the guest list or should he be offended that you don't care nearly as much for him as you do for two other people you only met a month ago to take away their visiting rights? It's hard for him to process.

On the other hand, he's incredibly worried about you. You were fine just two simple days ago and now you're locking yourself away in the black, sterile mansion once more.

Your co-worker can only think the news from the doctor is grave. He hopes you don't have a month to live or something like that because he won't handle it well at all.

He still fucking loves you, for God's sake.

All of this weighs heavily on his mind and shoulders as he steps up the stairs to the large glass doorway of your house.

Joon thinks about ringing the bell before he simply opens the door with the spare key that you haven't moved since he last let himself in.

If he rings the bell, you might simply decide not to answer at all.

Letting himself in, he calls your name which is drowned out by the loud opera that screeches throughout the house.

This is bad. Opera is a coping mechanism for you.

Namjoon creeps through your house quietly, hoping to not scare you if he sees you. He's almost positive that you're not in the mood for visitors.

Stepping up to the speakers that forcibly shake the floor around it with how loud the bass is, he lowers it.

That should get you to come out of whenever you're hiding.

He waits patiently for a moment before you appear in the hallway with curious eyes.

Joon in all his time has never seen you like this, you're wearing Jeongguk's hoodie and a pair of leggings that seem like they just came right out of the package.

When your eyes meet, you deflate visibly and trudge back into your office.

Joon follows after you, sketching your appearance into his mind like a quick artist.

You have bags under your eyes and yet they're puffy like you've been crying oceans and oceans of tears.

When he steps into your office, he watches you sullenly lay back down on the couch, clutching a random stuffed teddy bear.

"Y/N," Namjoon whispers softly, almost as if he's talking to a wounded fierce animal.

"What?" you breathe, your voice is hoarse and monotone.

"What's going on?" he inquires, sitting down on the Persian carpet beside you and unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"Nothing," you mumble stubbornly, letting your eyes flutter shut.

You're not yourself, obviously.

You bring your knees to your chest, hugging the teddy bear tighter and Joon can't help but feel his heart thud painfully at the sight.

"What'd the doctor tell you?" he inquires softly, pushing stray hairs off your wet cheeks.

He won't ask about Jeongguk just yet, he can see the emotional turmoil you're stewing in and bringing up the man might just break you.

"Nothing," you repeat monotonously.

"I'm here to help, sweetheart. Talk to me," the blonde man practically begs, leaning back against the couch to give you your privacy.

He stares at the intricate paintings along the wall as his temple connects with the top of your head sweetly.

You find some sort of ease with the touch and you sigh softly.

You sit in silence for a bit, listening to the now soft opera screeching into your ears. Once you say the words it'll mean that it's true. Are you ready to speak them?

Taking a deep breath, you just decide to say it.

You tell Joon the doctor's orders and he turns his head towards you with wide eyes.

"Are you serious?" he gasps, looking down at you.

You simply look up at him with broken eyes that scream that this is the truth.

"Y/N… you have to tell him," Namjoon whispers, coursing his warm thumbs over your cheeks.

"No!" you gasp, sitting up sharply.

Joon breathes a heavy sigh, standing up only to sit down beside you and pull you into his chest.

"You can't hide this. It's wrong," he coos softly.

The feeling of his suit fabric against yours is oddly comforting and your eyes snap shut.

The weight of telling someone else feels relieving but now that it's out there in the open… it makes an Earth sized hole in your soul.

"He'll hate me," you announce after a moment.

"He hates that you've cast him away," Joon replies simply.

"You saw him?"

"He came by the office earlier. He's a mess without you," your co-worker murmurs.

"I'm a mess without him," you say honestly.

"So what are you going to do?"

In all actuality, you don't know what the fuck you're doing. You don't know how the fuck to proceed with your life. You wish you could just stay in your mansion everyday for years to come. But it can't be that simple.

With a sigh you bury your face farther into Joon's chest and sob softly.

"I don't know," you cry out, wrapping your arms around his strong torso.

<---------- Last Chapter Next Chapter ------>

#at your service #chapter 14 #chap 14 #jungkook fic #jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook smut #dom!jeongguk

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romanoffsbish · 2 years

Text

A Blooming Love…

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (AU)

Inspired by: (hilarious tiktok)

Happy Valentine’s Day Eve 🌸 🥰 (A bonus fic)

R’s love language is flowers, 🥹

Today is the busiest day of the year for you, all morning long you spend in a van, delivering intricate displays of love to strangers through your beautiful bouquets of flowers. Majority of which you leave on doorsteps, or on the front desks of offices, but on the rarest of occasions you get to deliver it directly to their hands. Those types of interactions have always been your favorite, getting to bare witness to the genuine happiness the simple gesture inspires warms your heart beyond measure.

————

You're a local, low end florist, so your order threshold is much smaller than that of say edible arrangements, or 24 hour flowers, but you still make quite a profit on Valentine's Day. The patrons make note of your displays as why, telling you that the others simply couldn't do it the way you did, and you took pride in that.

Knowing that people genuinely appreciated the way you strategically mapped out bouquet's, picking the best pairings based on not only look, but the deeper meaning behind each flower's petals, meant the actual world to you.

For instance, why buy a ring and propose to your lover when you can arrange a bouquet of lilacs and spider flowers to symbolize the desire to elope. It’s cost effective and beautiful.

Have an enemy? Ensure they heed your warning of an impending doom by giving them a lovely bouquet of oleanders and daffodils.

Apart, some flowers meanings are dull, but when paired with others they begin to offer a fuller message, and that is half the fun for you.

At the back of your van is the last of your vases meant to be delivered, you'd started at eight this morning, and now that it's noon you're glad to be done with the business end of things. Now, you're headed off to hand deliver some strategically thought of bouquets to friends, and possibly, the woman who owns your heart.

You knocked on the first door, patiently waiting for the woman to answer, and to your shock an adorable little boy answers it instead., "Auntie Y/N!," his tiny body collapses into yours, nearly sending the vase with the shades of pink and purple Alstroemeria to the ground., "Hello to you too Tommy, where's your mom?"

"You call, and I appear.," Wanda teases as she enters into your field of vision., "Ooh, they're gorgeous Y/N/N, you've outdone yourself."

Wanda swiftly took the vase, and walked it into the kitchen where it now sat in the middle of her dining room table. She came back to promptly pull you into her for a hug, then she slipped a brown paper bag into your hand, and chuckled when you looked to her warily.

"Can't have you fainting on the job Y/N, and we both know you haven't eaten, so enjoy.," she winked at you, but the look in her eyes was sort of reminiscent to that of a concerned mother., "Thanks Wands, you always take such good care of me.," you murmured over the bite of sandwich you'd already started devouring, then you waved at her before taking your leave.

"Don't forget to finally tell her!," the brunette teasingly muttered behind the partially shut door, her hand outstretched to you holding a simple, singular flower, and you couldn't help but to smile up at her as you gently took it., "Good luck today Y/N, call me later with all the details, I look forward to the good news.," and with that she left your awestruck form alone.

Celosia's are gorgeous, frilly flowers that come in many shades, like the red in your hand, and they symbolize boldness, and when handed out it's usually meant to inspire bouts of courage. Wanda was your best friend, and had yet to steer you in the wrong direction before, so you decided that along with her selected flowers, you'd also be exposing your heart to Natasha.

But first, you must deliver the rest of your friends their bouquets, and next on your list is none other than the woman of your affections little sister, Yelena, and her lovely wife—Kate. Yelena was the small town's sheriff, and her wife worked for Natasha's tech company. These two are some of your favorite people, Yelena never fails to cheer you up with a good joke, and Kate doubles down with the comfort.

For Yelena you opted out of a multitude of flowers, she's always been more of a less is more type of gal, so you wanted to respect that. Baptisia is the flower you settled on, it's meant to offer the receiver protection, and with it being a shade of purple you thought it was a cute nod to the woman that she adored most.

Kate's bouquet was meant to inspire fertility, as you knew she was in the process of becoming pregnant, but that there was a bit of struggle. Peonies are meant to inspire such things, so her bouquet was a mix of the many shades.

With a quick knock on their front door you're greeted by a yawning Kate., "Good afternoon Miss Bishop.," you teased, and as expected Yelena rounds the corner to correct., "Belova!"

You smirk., "Oh, my apologies Mrs. Belova.," the couple both look at you, Kate with a fondness, and Yelena with a playful glare., "How might we help you?," the blonde asks, her romantic breakfast now running cold.

"How rude.," you scoffed., "Can't a girl bring her besties their bouquets without judgment?," the blonde simply flipped you off, but then she gently took the vase and assessed the plant.

"Thank you, they're beautiful Y/N.," Yelena remarks, and you see the genuine appreciation flash through her eyes, and then you feel it when Kate tugs you into a tight embrace., "Thank you!," her thanks are muffled by your shirt, and you chuckle softly., "Of course."

"Where to next?," the blonde asks, teasing smirk at the ready., "My sisters perhaps?," she quirked a brow and you only rolled your eyes., "Nope, next is Darcy's, then Monica and Pietro, then.," Yelena waved her hand., "Ok, I get it!"

"Teaches you not to meddle.," you chuckled, then you waved goodbye to your friends.

"Kate Bishop, get your coat, we're going to my sisters.," she squealed with an excited clap of her hands., "Why?!," she deadpanned., "To watch the two idiots finally make their moves, it will be funny—I can almost promise it."

You knew of Natasha far before you ever met the woman, she was once Wanda's boss after your best friend graduated from her university. Now Wanda works remotely as she prefers the luxury of being a stay at home mom to the twins. She'd always tell you stories of her boss, how she was a stern one, but that she was also an understanding one, who led with kindness.

Now you know her, and you have the couple from your last delivery for that, because it was their wedding that brought her into your life. Beforehand she'd only been a passing face, like at Wanda's wedding, or on the shared street of your businesses, but now she's a regular. In your shop, your life, and more so your heart.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

"Yelena, I told you we should've hired a more credible florist, where is she?," Natasha barked at her sister, her foot nervously tapping against the hardwood as if this was her wedding to fuss over., "Natasha, practice patience like Mama always said, your worry lines are deepening."

Natasha's petty response died on her tongue when you suddenly appeared before them, a smidge out of breath, but wearing a warm smile in spite of yourself., "I'm sorry I'm late Miss Belova, but there was an accident on the highway that sent me on a 30 minute detour."

"Yelena.," she annoyedly corrected you., "Don't worry about it Y/N, I expected you by noon, so seeing as how it's barely passed eleven you're well ahead of schedule.," she teasingly replied, then she looked to her watch., "I must rush off to get ready now, I'll leave you with my sister.," she then turned to her sternly., "Play nice."

Natasha watched intently, eyes trained on your every move, if asked she'd say it was for Yelena and Kate's sake, but it was her shameless way to drink you in—you were far more to marvel at, even though your displays were gorgeous.

"Hi...," Natasha sheepishly greets, internally slapping herself at her nervousness, she usually never feels nervous, if anything she's the one who inspire such things, it alludes her on as to how you're doing this to her., "I'm Natasha."

"Oh, I know who you are.," you bite back, but the smirk you hold shows there was no malice., "For starters, you're my best friends old boss, I saw you at her wedding, and to add onto that your building is across from mine, and I do have to say thanks for all of the business."

Natasha stares at you confused, she does remember the wedding, the one where she once again couldn't look away from you, but your other business comment was perplexing., "You're welcome?," she offered, but it came off as a question, and her face confirmed that.

"I end up selling a lot of 'I'm sorry I missed dinner tonight, had to work late' or 'Miss Romanoff needed me to stay, I swear I'm not cheating on you, please don't divorce me' bouquets to your many scared associates."

Natasha laughed, it was the kind of sound that you found yourself yearning to inspire further., "I can keep them even later if you wanted.," and now you were politely chuckling along with her, doing your best to remain professional, while still keeping her attention., "No thanks, I'd like to make it home before sundown."

Natasha continued to follow you around, her eyes watched the way your hands gently move the pieces about. It was clear to her that the job meant something to you, it wasn't an easy cash grab, or an exploitation of nervous spouses. You genuinely loved the art of crafting, and sharing that with anyone who would partake.

"Who picked out the arrangements?," she questioned, her curiosity getting the better of her., "Kate and Yelena were incredibly busy, so they actually asked me to give it my best go, and so I landed on this.," you stepped back, your hands now gesturing to the display., "What do you think? Is it up to snuff?"

Natasha smirked playfully as she observed the display in all of its glory. It was mesmerizing, there wasn't anything to be expected on the table, and she found herself intrigued on the why of it all., "It's beautiful, truly, but may I ask why?," your pensive look inspired her to elaborate., "What's the reason you didn't slap some roses down and call it a job well done?"

"Roses are lovely, they hold their place in the wedding line up for sure, but it's just lazy, and too par for the course for me.," you explained., "Holly, the flower you see wreathed around each base of the vase is for more than the Christmas season you know.," she saw the way your eyes lit up the further you divulged, and she found it rather endearing to say the least.

"They're meant to symbolize courage, defense, and oversight, which I felt perfectly fitted to your sister's dangerous job, and Kate's love and acceptance in spite of it all.," her heart softened as you explained., "Then at the center here we have a cluster of lavender, the purple color was important to Kate, so I did my best to give her that, while somehow finding a balance."

"It inspires a calming energy, and I felt that would be good at any wedding.," she nodded.

"Then directly surrounding the sprigs of purple is a circle of pink bluebells for everlasting love, and lastly we have gardenias for pure joy.," you looked to her expectantly, brow raised and all., "Well, it's already beautiful to look at, but when you elaborate, it gives it a different beauty."

"Thank you."

Natasha frowned as you finished the display of the last table., "Are you staying for the night?," you shook your head, smiling softly as you did.,

"I'm afraid not, I am not one to overstay my welcome, but do wish the couple well for me."

"No pressure, but I'll have you know my sister and her blushing bride would have no quarrels if you stayed, in fact I'm certain Kate would be sad if you didn't—she's fond of your work.," the redhead somewhat groveled, much to her own shock too, even using her sisters fiancé as a play in the game to get you to stay.

The twinkle in her eye isn't lost on you., "So, I should stay for Kate's sake then?," she heard the tease, it even excited her, but she did her best to remain unaffected., "Why of course."

"Happy wife, happy life—who am I to deny your sister such a thing?," you winked, then much to the redheads dismay you went to go., "Where are you going then?," she cursed herself for the desperation in her tone., "Thought I'd put my wagon away, doesn't seem to add the right ambiance for the wedding."

"Oh, yeah, makes sense...," you giggled softly., "Yeah, don't worry princess—I'll return."

Natasha watched you walk away in shock, her eyes never stopped staring ahead, not even when you'd disappeared around the corner. Never in her life had she been so awkward, nor so desperate to be around someone, but there was just something so special about you.

"Sestra! Where's Y/N? Did you scare her off?"

"No. She just went to her car for a moment."

"Good, she's running late.," Yelena groaned, and her sister looked to her for clarification., "She's Kate's maid of honor.," she offers, and the redheads jaw drops at the information.

"What? How? Why have I never heard of her?," she stammers, her words flying out nearly as fast as her thoughts are running., "You have, she's the third musketeer you always miss out on seeing at all of our events you're late to."

"Wait! Y/N is Wanda and Kate's third party?," the blonde nods with a fond smirk., "She's a very sweet girl, but with a bit of a wild side."

"She said she was leaving, I had to ask her to stay.," Natasha bargains with a furrowed brow, and she gets her sisters obnoxious laughter in response., "She's also a bit of a tease."

"Who's a tease?," you ask as you step back up to the sisters with a sly smirk, and in a new outfit that leaves Natasha at a loss for words.

"You.," Yelena pointedly remarks, she then grabs your arm before slapping her sister upside her head., "Go get ready Natalia."

"Here.," you reach out to the redhead, her breath hitches when you push her hair behind her ear as you settle a stem atop the lobe., "Beautiful.," you smile, admiring the pink carnation that now sits besides her blushing face., "It symbolizes admiration.," you wink.

"Come on.," Yelena groans, pulling your giggling form along with her, and leaving her speechless, flustered sister in the dust.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

Natasha and you had been flirting from the start, but for some reason neither of you knew how to take it further, so after two years of beating around the bush it appeared up to you to make the move. Natasha meant to ask you, she did, but it only ever turned into half baked dates, where she'd bring you lunch in the shop, and you'd send her off with a new flower, but the feelings you both harbored were only ever masked behind dull, casual conversations.

You both just came from such different worlds, she worked a nine to five, that really was only a recommendation seeing as how she worked well into the night on most occasions, and her weekends off never really rang true either. Natasha was a true prisoner to capitalism, and for some reason she didn't seem to mind it.

Whereas you built your own schedule based on a whim, Monday through Friday you opened the shop anywhere between 10am and 12pm, and were closed by 6pm. Then you would deliver flowers on Saturday's from 10am to 2pm, before taking the rest of the weekends off. You lived a life free of societal pressures, and Natasha was intrigued by your carefree nature, add on your ability to love hard, and your oh so beautiful face and she was a total goner.

She just never knew if you'd be able to handle her demanding lifestyle, you were just so sweet, and she wouldn't want to tamper that. However, as she gets older she becomes more aware that she's not where she should be. Success in business is only one part of the story, she desired love too, and she now knows the only way to complete her life is to have you. To make you hers and build a life with you that tailors to the both of your wants and needs.

Which is why she's nervously awaiting your arrival by the window, her heart full of hope, and her mind racing with what she'll actually say as you finally pull up her snowy driveway. You failed to catch her gaze, you were far too nervous for what's about to happen to look up.

Instead you opened the trunk, and began to collect what you needed. The flowers you reached for were gorgeous. Everyone else received their arrangements in clear vases, but Natasha's was in a red one. Simple, maybe even expected, but nonetheless it was a step above the rest, and to the right person even romantic. There was also a sweet Valentines Day bag beside it that carried a whole lot of goodies tailored specifically to the redhead.

Natasha bit her lip as she watched you slowly make your way up her stairs, you were holding the prettiest bouquet made to date, and her body warmed at the amount of care you show. There was a confidence in your step that had her wondering what your intentions were, she smiled at the thought of you loving her back.

Then all too quickly her smile fades when she watches you slip hard on the ice of her porch. The vase full of dark and light red carnations, white gardenias and a single pink rose goes flying into the wall and shatters, and at the sound you wince, soon wondering if your numbed tailbone maybe had met the same fate.

Natasha ran outside., “Y/N/N, oh my gosh, are you okay?,” you looked up at her with a pained smile., “I’m oka—.,” your lie was cut off with a groan as Natasha too slipped in an attempt to help you up, her pointed elbow making harsh contact with your soft abdomen., “I’m sorry.”

After a minute of silence on both of your ends you finally peered down to see the redhead already smirking up at you. Then all at once the both of you broke out into a fit of laughter. Sure it was embarrassing, but seeing as you both fell prey to the harsh winter conditions it wasn’t all that bad. Natasha was the first to shimmy into a seated position, her hands reaching behind her to pick up the flowers.

“They’re beautiful.,” she comments, bringing them up to her face one by one to appreciate the aromas as well., “Tell me about them?,” you could see the hopeful glint in her eyes, there was an unusual vulnerability in her tone too. So you sighed and sat up to face her as you finally had the courage to give her your heart.

“Well.,” you softly scooped the lighter of the two carnations out of her hand., “This shade is meant to symbolize someone’s admiration for the recipient.,” you watched as her cheeks tinted a similar shade., “I admire you wholly.”

“The white gardenias symbolize purity.,” your eyes burned bright with the message as you stared deeply into Natasha’s gorgeous green., “There’s nothing I trust more than us.,” she subtly scooted closer to you, heart completely enthralled by your slow love confession.

“The darker shade.,” you took a deep breath, this one was the one that gave no room for a friendly interpretation., “It’s a symbol of a deep, undying love that the giver harbors for the recipient.,” you ducked your head, afraid to see her reaction, but a firm hand on your shoulder brought your eyes back up, and your heart settled at the sight of her soft features.

Natasha’s lips gently twitched at the roundabout confession, the instinct to smile dreamily was there, but when you went to reach out for the rose she felt the urge to tease you was a smidge stronger than melting into the warmth of your reciprocated love.

“I thought you said roses were lazy.,” she hummed while looking the flower over., “Eh, sometimes the cliches work.,” you remarked playfully, and the redhead nodded, then she smiled warmly at you before reaching to hand you your own rose back., “Do you accept?”

Natasha watched the clarity slowly wash over you, her use of the flower nowhere close to lost on you., “That was meant to be my line.,” you teased, but your vulnerability was evident., “I’d say I’m sorry I beat you to it, but I’m not.,” she smirked triumphantly., “Now answer me Y/N.”

“I do.,” she instantly beamed, then she moved to straddle your lap, and the tension was thick as your eyes tracked her every movement. Soft fingers traced over your face before pushing the hair behind your ears. Her hands were gentle as she placed the rose over your ear., “Beautiful.,” she breathed out affectedly, and then as she looked into your doe eyes she softly whispered., “Fuck it.,” then her lips met yours.

Natasha was gentle, she was a romantic at heart, so there wasn’t any rush to devour you. However, as your hands settled possessively over her hips she felt the urge to deepen it.

“My eyes! Kate! Take the wheel!,” Yelena shrieked, her hand was swift as it threw the cop car into drive., “Serves you right for spying.”

The loud boom of sirens, and screeching tires pulled your attentions from one another., “Eto malen'koye der'mo.,” you chuckled affectedly., “I’m not sure what you said, but it was hot.”

(That little shit)

Natasha smirked., “Oh yeah?,” you nodded dumbly, and she leaned in, your body shivered as her hot breaths fanned across your face., “Tebya budet tak veselo unichtozhat', detka.”

(You’re going to be so fun to destroy, baby.)

“Fuck.,” you whimpered., “Kiss me, please.”

As her plump lips reclaim their place against yours, you sigh dreamily against her as your heart hammers wildly in your chest. Because the soft affection reaffirms your thoughts; to know Natasha Romanoff, is to know true love.

————

To offer a rose, is to essentially offer your ❤️.

3,844 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 🌸

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #natasharomanoffpov

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bamber344 · 2 months

Text

Till Death Did Us Part (Madeline intro)

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Chapter takes place concurrently with the previous chapter; Jordyn's Deployment

New character POV time! Like I said in the prologue, Jordyn's POV is the only one in first person; the rest of them are in third limited. Hopefully it's not too confusing!

Heed the warnings on this one! No physical whump, but this babe ain't doing too hot (she's where the 'sad women' bit on the masterlist description comes from) and the chapter touches on some of the darker parts of her mental state. Nothing extremely explicit, but it might be triggering for some so I wanted to make sure. Stay safe! Chapter begins below the cut.

CWs: frequent references to pre-canon character death, mentions of alcoholism, slight allusions to self-harm, suicidal ideation, mentions of transphobia (misgendering). I think that's it, but let me know if I forgot anything!

Till Death Did Us Part

The sound of her phone buzzing on her nightstand forced Madeline out of a sleep she desperately didn’t want to wake from. She didn’t want to greet the day that awaited her; perfectly content to just lay there, hiding under her covers until the calendar ticked over to the next date along. She didn’t want to face the realities that today would force upon her. If she just closed her eyes and drowned everything out, she could pretend none of the past five years ever happened; that Rosie was just in the bathroom, and would come back to bed at any moment.

Her phone rang again, and Madeline grumbled, reaching over to answer it.

“Leave me alone, Viv,” she muttered hoarsely into the receiver.

“Damn, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, huh?” Vivienne replied.

Anger flared in Madeline’s gut. “Don’t fucking poke me today, Vivienne. Not today.”

There was a silence over the phone. “I… I’m sorry, you’re absolutely right. That was mean. I was just… trying to lighten the mood, I guess. Sorry.”

Madeline sighed. “What do you want?”

“I was just checking up. I know today’s difficult for you. Want me to come over? I can make breakfast.”

Breakfast meant getting out of bed. It meant waking up and coming face to face with the truth of the day. It also meant scrambled eggs with bits of ham and cherry tomatoes. A difficult choice, to be sure.

At the continued silence of Madeline’s internal debate, Viv dug deeper. “Come on, you know Rosie wouldn’t want you to rot in bed all day.”

All the assumption did was stoke the fire inside of her. “Don’t presume to know what she would want.”

“You know I’m right, though. Come on, you won’t even have to do anything. I’ll even do the dishes after. Please?”

The thing that sucked was that she was right. The last thing Rosie would want would be for Madeline to waste her life mourning her. She groaned loudly, making sure that Vivienne could hear her dissatisfaction.

“Fine.”

Immediately, Vivienne appeared at the side of Madeline’s bed. She was used to the sudden teleportation by now, but it still annoyed her how quickly she showed up. She wanted at least a little more time to pretend she didn’t exist before being forced to interact with anyone.

“Come on, snowball. Up you get.”

Madeline groaned again, burying her face in the pillow. “Get out of my room.”

“Say please.”

Madeline grabbed a spare pillow and hucked it at Vivienne, who teleported to the other side of the room and pulled the covers off of the bed in retaliation.

“Oh my god, you’re naked!”

“Karma,” Madeline muttered, a smile tugging at her lips. She would never admit it, but Viv’s antics were a little amusing.

“Fine, I’ll give you a few minutes!” Viv called, now on the other side of the bedroom door. “Don’t take too long, though. Breakfast will be ready soon!”

Madeline sighed, sinking back into the pillow to enjoy her last few moments of restful bliss.

—

“So, what are your plans for today?”

Madeline shrugged, running a hand through her dirty-blonde mullet and pulling the tangles out of it. It had been an impulse choice of haircut made in a half-drunken, half-miserable stupor, but she would be lying if she said she hated it. It added to her butchy vibe. “I dunno. Visit Rosie’s grave, I suppose. Cry a lot. Drink myself to sleep again.”

Vivienne frowned. “Come on, Maddie. you agreed to stop doing that.”

“What are you, my mom?”

“No, I actually care about your wellbeing.”

Madeline snorted. “You’ve got me there.”

They were sitting at the kitchen counter, finishing the scrambled eggs Viv had made. By now, Madeline was well and truly awake, and that really sucked. But, time waited for no woman, and today would have happened, whether she got out of bed or not. Today was the five-year anniversary of Rosalyn Garcia-Holmes’ death, and sleeping in wouldn’t change that. It would just protect Madeline’s consciousness from having to recognise that she’d been a widow for five years for just a few hours longer. Kicked out of home at 14, married to her childhood best friend at 18, widowed by a monster attack at 21, semi-recovering alcoholic and washed up superhero at 26. What a shit-crock of a life.

Okay, maybe ‘washed up’ was being a little harsh on herself. As far as superheroes went, she was respected for her work. Though she was currently on indefinite hiatus for mental health reasons, she was technically the co-leader of the Heroes Union, and the other heroes did value her opinions, whenever she was present to give them. The problem was that she wasn’t really doing anything else with her life. Vigilantism was generally looked down upon, and would get heroes arrested if they tried to do it with any degree of frequency, given their solid lack of secret identities. They were allowed to step in in the case of violent crime, but they had no real power to arrest, just protect. Most hero work was just fighting off monster attacks and helping rescue civilians in the aftermath of any disasters, which left them with a lot of free time. Of course, there were the occasional villains that showed up, using their powers for their own gain and too dangerous for the police to go near, but in a city like Tombguard, with all of its heroes, most would-be villains had the good sense to try their luck elsewhere.

All that was to say; Madeline didn’t have a job. ‘Freeloader’ was a common pejorative used for superheroes by people who didn’t like that their taxes supported the Union, but in her case, they were right. She spent all of her time moping around, occasionally doing some work when the Godling decided to make another lamppost sentient or whatever - and then spent all of her leftover Union paycheck (after rent and food and other basic necessities) on alcohol and weed. In an ideal world, she would actually be contributing something to society; working a job, and then popping out to kick some flesh-and-stone creature’s butt when the city needed her, but she just… Wasn’t Doing That. At the very least, she could take a more active role in her hero work; go on patrols, monitor the city, help little old ladies cross the street. Do some actual volunteer work if she couldn’t find a paying job. Life was just a mess at the moment, and though she felt like she was slowly getting better, she still really just missed her wife, and it was exceedingly hard to move past that grief. Especially on days like today.

Viv put a hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You know what we should do? Go on patrol.”

Madeline raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure you haven’t left the house in a week. Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ll get some sunlight, do some parkour, feel the wind rushing through our hair!” Her voice lowered from its jubilance, becoming quieter; more sympathetic. “Once we’ve had enough we can stop by to see Rosie, alright?”

Madeline looked her in the eye, trying to see through her milk-chocolate irises to the intention underneath. “Why do you care so much about me? Why go out of your way for me like this? I don’t get it.”

The question gave Vivienne pause. She sighed, reaching up and putting her hand on the top of Madeline’s head.

“Because you’re my friend, you numbskull.” She ruffled Madeline’s hair. “I’m not just gonna drop you because you’re having a hard time. I care about you, and I’m not gonna stop caring when it becomes difficult. You were always there for me when I joined the Union, even through my worst days. Now, it’s my turn to do the same for you. Everyone needs a little helping hand sometimes.”

Madeline looked down at her empty plate, tears threatening to form in her eyes. “I… Thanks, Viv. I’m really glad to have you as a friend, even if… I don’t always act like it.”

“Likewise,” Viv replied, playfully punching her shoulder. “Now, suit up! Let’s go!”

Madeline raised an arm and sniff-checked her armpit. “Yeah, that’s not happening until I shower.”

—

Alright, Madeline could admit when she’d been wrong. Being out in the sun was pretty damn nice. It was a beautiful day, and putting her costume on for the first time in weeks felt great, even if it didn’t fit quite as well as it used to on account of the muscle she’d lost lazing around. The wind tousled her hair as she ran and leaped from building to building, her arms and legs singing with exertion and endorphins, heart racing in her chest. She felt alive. A laugh bubbled up from deep within her as she summoned a platform of ice beneath her feet, using it to launch herself up to a higher ledge and vault over, landing in a roll on the next roof.

“Woohoo!” Viv called as she did a backflip off the next ledge, only to miss the landing and fall in between the buildings. She reappeared back on the roof and laughed. “Oops, messed that one up.”

Madeline shook her head fondly. “Teleportation has made you far too reckless.”

Viv wiggled her hips, poking out her butt. “Hey, if you got it, you gotta flaunt it.”

Madeline raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’ve ‘got it’? Because the only thing I see is a flat washboard.”

Viv blew a raspberry, flipping her off. “My ass is great and you know it.”

Madeline chuckled. “Sure. I-”

“Hey, stop! Thief!”

The shout caught both of their attention. They shared a look and walked to the edge of the roof, peering over the street, where a man was running in their direction, groceries clutched in his arms.

“Shoplifter,” Madeline observed. “None of our business.” It would be hypocritical of her to go after him, anyway; she’d had no qualms stealing food to feed herself in the past. She understood the plight.

“Man’s gotta eat,” Vivienne said.

Madeline had seen all she needed to see. They were about to turn away when another commotion set off near the intersection. A figure in black leapt from the passenger door of a car and sped down the sidewalk towards the man, moving faster than a regular human had any right to. Their black armour glinted in the sunlight as they crashed into him, tackling him to the ground and pinning his arms behind his back.

“Who the hell is that?” Viv asked.

Madeline shrugged. “I dunno. Their armour looks pretty expensive, though.”

An older man walked up, hands behind his back. Viv groaned. “Ew, I hate that jerk.”

Andreas de Vygon was a loud and proud anti-unionist and a staunch hater of superheroes of all types. Also, a police captain with a history of unsavoury allegations, all covered up by his rich friends. ‘Jerk’ was putting it kindly, in Madeline’s experience. Though, from the way he was acting around this new person, perhaps ‘hypocrite’ would be a better adjective.

“Backup is on the way to take him to the station. Good work, Seven.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Something about their voice - even muddied by an obvious voice changer as it was - stuck in Madeline’s brain. She couldn’t tell what it was, but something about the way they spoke was familiar. It wasn’t the accent – that was as nondescript as an accent could be, as far as she could tell. It was just… something.

“Well, shit. A superhero working with the police. That’s a new one,” Viv said.

“Mhm.”

“Wanna go down there and meet them? See what they’re about?”

Madeline thought about it. This new person was intriguing, but not enough to risk having to deal with de Vygon’s bullshit. They were probably just a cop sympathiser who got lucky enough to be born with powers, anyway. Going by their armour, they were clearly sponsored, too. Not worth the trouble.

“Nah. Andreas de Bigot would probably just aggressively misgender me again.”

Viv snorted. “Yeah, true.”

Madeline was referencing a press release the man had done, addressing the public a few days after Rosie’s death. He’d referred to Madeline multiple times as Rosie’s ‘husband,’ despite the fact that she was very publicly a woman, including on her ID, and had already been years deep into her transition when she made her debut on the city stage. She couldn’t imagine his views had changed much in the intervening years.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They took a more casual pace as they continued, hopping between buildings where possible and teleporting where it wasn’t. The sight of the scene below them had sobered Madeline up some. She couldn’t count how many nights she’d spent in a holding cell during her teen years after getting caught pocketing things from corner stores. Sometimes she would get lucky and just get beaten to a pulp by the owner in the alley outside, but most of the time the cops would be called, and her ice powers weren’t nearly refined enough back then to help her get away. She’d be more likely to slip and skin her knee. It was a dark time for her before Rosie’s family took her in. She felt for the poor guy who just got caught.

They’d been making their way along for a good few minutes when a loud crash sounded behind them. Madeline didn’t even have to turn to know that the Godling was up to Its bullshit again.

“Sorry, Snowball. Looks like you’ll actually have to do your job today.”

“Lay off it, Viv,” she sighed. Sure enough, when she turned, a giant glob of pinkish flesh had risen from the road, and was very angry at the world. That was definitely going to mess up traffic for the next few days. Oh well, it didn’t look that tough. Time to actually do her job, and just maybe get a little catharsis out of it. For Rosie.

Vivienne grabbed her hand and they jumped into the fray.

—

“Well, that was easy.”

“Yup.”

Madeline stared at the mess she’d just made of the monster; riddled with holes from the giant ice spears she’d thrown at it. Generating that much ice from the air always took a lot of effort, so she’d worked up a decent sweat, but the melting point was also a lot lower, so it’d clear itself out quickly. Her job as a Union frontliner was done; now it was the cleanup crew’s turn.

“Thanks for the assist,” she said, turning to Vivienne. “That would have been a lot harder if I had to focus on dodging too.”

“That’s what I’m here for!” Viv beamed.

“So, what now?”

Vivienne looked back towards the scene with the cop-hero. Madeline followed her gaze. They were still there, looking in this direction.

“Oh, there’s my uncle!”

“The detective?”

“Yeah. I know you don’t like cops, and, okay, you have good reason not to, but trust me, he’s a decent guy. Mostly a desk jockey these days.”

“I don’t really care,” Madeline muttered, truly apathetic about the whole thing. She’d met the guy a handful of times on patrols, and there was no reason to doubt Viv’s take on him. From what she could tell, he was just a guy stuck in his job because he’d already wasted too much of his life doing it, now only doing the bare minimum to get by so he wouldn’t lose his only source of income. Honestly, he just seemed kinda sad most of the time. In the lonely, alcoholic sort of way. Hm, on second thought, maybe they’d get along.

“Wanna go say hi?”

“Not really-”

She didn’t even have time to get the words out before Viv was reaching for her.

“-DON’T fucking teleport me.” She flinched away.

Viv got that fucking look on her face that she always got whenever there was a line she knew she could push without getting in too much trouble. A sinking feeling spread through Madeline’s gut and she internally resigned herself to her fate of having to speak to a cop.

Sure enough, the little shit disappeared and Madeline felt a hand on her back. A split second later her ears popped and she found herself only a few feet away from the group of pigs and their little superhero helper. Just great.

“Fuck! I told you not to do that, Viv!”

She put her hands up in surrender – but notably did not apologise. Madeline was going to remember that, and she was going to hold it against her so hard.

“Hey, Uncle Steve!”

The unkempt man cleared his throat. “Good morning, Vivienne. Nice work out there. You too, Madeline.”

Madeline grunted in acknowledgement. She could feel eyes on her from under that rent-a-cop’s faceless black visor. Studying her. Intensely. It was uncomfortable.

They were surprisingly short up close. Granted, Madeline was decently tall, coming in at 6 feet, so a lot of people were surprisingly short to her. Especially those with the aura that this over-armoured supersoldier had. They looked wound up like a coiled spring, ready to jump out and strike the moment the order came through. Still… there was something there, gnawing at the back of her mind. The armour was pretty form fitting, and something about their shape just… Well, to be honest, it reminded her of Rosie. Not that Rosie had a monopoly on her particular body shape. She was just on Madeline’s mind a lot, on account of what day it was. It wasn’t important, she concluded. Just her mind grasping at its usual straws.

“Thanks!” Viv replied. She turned to the Rosie shapematch. “So, a new hero, huh? What’s your name?”

Andreas stepped in before they had a chance to respond, putting a possessive hand on their shoulder. “We’re done here, Seven.”

Just like that, they were led away back to the car they came from; now sitting lonely near the intersection. All other traffic had cleared off in the wake of the monster attack.

“Well,” Madeline said. “That was really fuckin’ strange.”

“That’s an understatement,” Steve said. “We were only informed about this yesterday. They’re calling it Project Genesis, whatever that means. Super confidential stuff, apparently. I never thought a hero would actually be allowed to work within our ranks.”

“Who are they?” Viv asked.

Steve shrugged. “De Vygon only ever referred to them as ‘Seven’. I don’t think I caught a gender or anything. Though… when that monster popped up, they seemed afraid of it. Could be something. I think I also heard the captain mention memory loss to them, too. Maybe they're amnesiac?”

“That sounds wildly unethical,” Madeline muttered under her breath. An amnesiac superhero, hiding their face, with a number for a name, who’s afraid of monsters, working under an almost-definitely corrupt police captain. Everything about this was screaming ‘red flag.’

“Should we ask them to join the Union?” Viv pondered. “All of the heroes in Tombguard have to be part of it, don’t they?”

Madeline sighed, pulling out the tome of job-knowledge in her head. “Legally, they don’t have to join if they don’t want to, so long as they’re independently licensed. From the looks of things, I’d say they probably are. Extend an invitation if you really want, I don’t care either way.”

Things would probably be safer if the supercop was under the same regulations as the rest of the Union, but she didn’t say that out loud. Honestly, they gave her the creeps. She’d rather stay away where possible.

Steve stretched, cracking his back. “Well, I’d better get going. Gotta get this guy processed. You two take care.”

Madeline didn’t acknowledge him as he got in the car and drove off. That whole interaction had put her in a bit of an odd mood. She didn’t really feel like patrolling anymore.

Viv picked up on it. “You had enough?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Take me home.”

—

Madeline clutched the bouquet of flowers as she made her way through the rows of graves, her chest aching. Vivienne hadn’t accompanied her into the cemetery proper, just dropping her off at the gates and letting her go on her own. She appreciated it. As much as she cared for the girl, she wanted to spend some alone time with Rosie today. Though, it seemed as though her wish wouldn’t be granted; at least, not yet.

Standing at Rosie’s grave were two people; a man and a woman, holding each other as they looked at the headstone. Manny and Eleanor Garcia. Rosie’s parents. Madeline sucked in a breath and approached.

Manny was the first one to notice her presence. He turned to her, a sad smile adorning his face. “Madeline. It’s good to see you.”

“Hey,” she replied, voice rough. “Likewise.”

“We’ve missed you this past year,” Eleanor said.

Madeline hummed. It was the truth; she’d been neglecting paying them a visit lately. They were better parents to her than her bio-parents had ever been, and she loved them dearly. Honestly, she owed them her life. It was just… difficult being in that house without Rosie around. Living was difficult without Rosie around, to be fair, but she was trying to work past that. With the recent dip in her mental health, it was just easier to avoid anything that reminded her too strongly of her late wife, in-laws' house included.

Upon realising that she clearly wasn’t going to get a response, Eleanor changed the subject. “I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

Madeline managed a smile, running a hand through her mullet. “Thanks. It was… mostly an accident, but I like it, too.”

Awkward silence stretched between them. The wind rustled through the trees, birds chirping and singing like this wasn’t the anniversary of the worst day in the world. Madeline looked at her in-laws, analysing their features and searching for any sign of Rosie. There were hints of her, here and there; in Eleanor’s thick, wavy hair, and the shape of her eyes; in Manny’s wide nose and tan skin. She had her dad’s laugh lines and her mom’s fierce personality. It was a small comfort; being able to see parts of her, still alive and moving, not buried six feet beneath the dirt.

Manny sighed and put an arm out towards her. “Enough of this, Maddie. We’re not strangers. Come here.”

Madeline wasn’t strong enough to resist the pull. She stepped into his hold, sinking against his side as his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Tears prickled at her eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there recently. I miss you guys.”

“You know you’re always welcome to stay with us,” Eleanor said. “You’re family. Just as much our daughter as Rosalyn was.”

Madeline bit her lip, trying not to cry too hard. “Th-thank you. Things… Things have been really difficult lately. Just getting out of bed is hard most days. I don’t really have the energy to spare for anything but surviving. That’s… That’s why I’ve been vacant.”

Manny kissed her head. “We’ll always look after you, cariño. If you need help, we’ll be there.”

Madeline smiled. “I’ll think about it. Thank you both.”

The silence that came over them was far more amicable this time around. Madeline stared at Rosie’s gravestone, thinking about how her wife was just underneath her, only six feet away. She was so close, yet Madeline would never truly get to see her face again, cursed to forever catch fleeting, teasing glimpses of her in picture frames and lookalikes. Her body yearned for Rosie’s, whole and real and alive; not just a frozen, flat image of a painted expression. What she wouldn’t give for just one more night with her…

“Hard to believe it’s already been five years,” she muttered, bottom lip quivering a little.

Hold it back, Madeline. At least until Rosie’s parents leave. Don’t let them see how broken you still are.

Manny hummed. “Some mornings I still expect to hear her running downstairs into the kitchen.”

“I still think she’s gonna be next to me when I wake up,” she admitted.

“Sometimes I hear noises at night, and my first instinct is still that it’s you two staying up late again,” Eleanor said, voice breaking a little.

For some reason, that was what broke her. Her fragile hold snapped and a sob tore from her throat, and from there it was hopeless. Manny’s arms cradled her and she buried her face in his coat, shoulders bouncing as she bawled. Another pair of arms encircled her, comforting in their warmth. It didn’t quell the hurt, though. It didn’t fill the hole left in her heart.

Why was this still so painful? Wasn’t time supposed to make it better? It had been five damn years, and Madeline was sick of feeling so miserable, but every time she seemed to be healing, something would remind her and she would tumble all the way back down again. After the first year, she’d been doing good; working, participating in the Union, just keeping busy to distract herself. Yes, she had some unsavoury coping mechanisms at the time, but she was functioning, and she was functioning for a while. About a year and a few months ago, though, her mental health took a dive and she’d been an absolute wreck ever since. It was like the first few months after Rosie’s death all over again, only it just never ended. It wasn’t fair. She’d been coping. She’d been getting on with her life. Moving on, like Rosie would want her to. Now, she was just back in a pit, and every time she tried to climb out, the walls would crumble under her fingers and she’d fall back down. It just… felt so hopeless. Some days, she just wanted to lie in that pit and let the dirt bury her for good, so she could be with Rosie again. The thought was far more tempting than it should’ve been.

She pulled back from Manny, wiping her eyes. “Thanks…”

He ruffled her hair affectionately. “Anytime, mija. We’ll give you some space with her. After that, would you like to come over for dinner?”

She nodded, unable to form the words to properly reply. The two of them smiled softly, before turning and leaving her alone at the grave.

Madeline turned back towards the sun-warmed stone, reading the words engraved on it.

Rosalyn Garcia-Holmes

Beloved daughter and wife. Activist and Hero. Firestarter.

Gave her life for the people of Tombguard.

“Screw Billy Joel, I started it.”

Madeline smiled sadly at the quote, remembering the day Rosie said it. She kneeled on the grass, placing the bouquet down next to the headstone.

“Hey, Rosie. I’ve been missing you a lot, lately. I, um… I hope you’re sleeping well.”

Madeline didn’t really know what to say. She had so many thoughts in her head regarding Rosie, but now that she wanted to say them out loud, nothing came to her. Maybe it was for the best. Rosie would understand, either way. Madeline didn’t want to disturb her rest with pointless ramblings. She took a deep breath, trying to reorganise her thoughts, and spoke again, reaching out to touch the headstone.

“I… I love you. So, so much. I still miss you every single day. I hope you’re well, wherever you are. I hope… I hope I’ll get to see you there someday, too. I… Fuck, Rosie. I can’t even put it into words. I just… I just wish you were here right now. I wish I could hold you again. I wish I could hear your voice from something other than recordings. I wish you… I wish you could give me some goddamn advice on how to get the hell out of this… this fucking slump! I feel so fucking pathetic. I… I need help and I don’t know what to do… I just… don’t know what to do anymore…”

Her tears started pouring again, right as her words dried up. She put her forehead against the warm stone and closed her eyes, reminiscing about times long past, imagining her lover’s hands stroking through her hair, just like she used to.

Taglist: @steelandblood @sapphicwhump @urnumber1star @alsolucakairomi @idkwhattodowiththisaltiamsorry

Hope you all liked it! I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, personally. Madeline was a fun character to discover while writing the chapter, and I enjoyed her inner monologue. Let me know what you thought!

Also, yes, in case it wasn't clear, Madeline is a trans woman. We stand for the flag in this household 🏳️‍⚧️

Next chapter is from Andreas/Father's POV. Fun times :)

let me know if you want to be added to the tag list !! see you all next time!

#project genesis whump series #whump series #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #living weapon whump #emotional whump #oc whump #whump story

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jojotier · 1 year

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the station looks like a tin can the more you drift; each blinking porthole window decorating the label as the space between you and the SS Atlantic turns the only home you have left into just another star in the sky.

the snap of the tether breaking in half is still the only thing you can hear.

you had your moment of panic, though. you clawed and struggled and tried to orient yourself in the vast emptiness of space and turned up nothing. there's still static somewhere in the back of your head and helmet as someone- shit, has to be Macy, there's no one else on board who shares your accent, your food, your history- frantically calls. you can't make out a single word.

you wish you could make a joke, here. put the poor girl at ease. she's young; still doesn't believe you when you say the old Terran dustball used to hold oceans of bioluminescent water and sugarcane fields far as the eye could see. you've been alive long enough to learn that being an astronaut and being a sailor aren't too terribly different, when it comes down to it. different equipment, yes; different tide, different gravity. same work songs. same dangers. same prayers.

you know prayers don't get answered out here in the black. the sea almost ate you whole when you were a child and now the void will finish the job.

they're probably mounting a rescue now. this is the first time someone unmoored has gotten so far, and the ship is full of young people and bravado. you wonder how the fresh-faced lieutenant's doing- never caught their name, but they have a kinda swagger to them under the color-changing twists and a voice to beat out the last chanteyman who led the songs. capable, sure. well-read, sure- but twenty-five is practically still a child's age, on your new home where nothing ever changes but the artificial seasons.

now, here's something new. it's a new problem. and truth be told, you don't got much oxygen left.

you've been out here for a long while. so you can't offer a joke or a condolence, or even an apology, as a girl's cries start making the static over the radio peak. if you could, though, what could you say? you lived longer than you thought you ever would. the dimming at the corners of your eyes and the itch in your throat remind you that you know what it's like to drown. you were always bound to die.

that doesn't stop the tightness in your chest as your shallow breaths, your sips of air, feel heavy on your tongue. your lungs are starting to notice what you've been putting to the back of your mind. coming to terms with your death isn't the same thing as accepting it. not really.

you don't move, even though conservation of energy doesn't make a difference. there's nothing around you but void and the fractionation of stars reflected off your helmet's glass. and the further you drift, the more they seem to wink out, one by one, as the distant station begins to disappear into the stasis of the cosmos.

over the comms you think you hear the lieutenant, maybe. it's hard to catch the actual pitch of the voice. just stops and starts, saying "come- we- are incom- stay tight-!"

it almost makes hope well up. you crush it the same way you did when you dreamed granddaddy being knocked off the mast and into the storm, the night before he went overboard just the same way. if you don't heed omens then you can't feel grief before it's due. if you don't hope then it means you can focus on passing on.

but it means you have to think. you have to think and hold still and ignore the way your skin itches under your gloves- ignore the static buzzing against your eardrums- ignore the

maybe you should give the last of your belongings? you don't even know where to start. give Macy the cowrie shells, because your grandma told you beading them in your rows would protect you and your granddaddy said they could tell the future. give the lieutenant your locket? it'd go good with their uniform, same as it did with yours, when captains cared for that sort of thing, back in the Atlantic seas your mother and your mother's mother and your grandmother's family had sailed.

you wanted to tell those stories. your granddaddy told you his daddy was a baker with one hand and made you memorize your great-granddaddy's name, so you wouldn't forget. you want to tell someone that name. you wanted to bring the memories of Earth with you.

so maybe those are your final words. maybe not.

you feel your heart trembling at a different rate than your ribs; your meat trying to squirm away from the bones keeping you hostage in this deep-space suit, waiting for the little gauge at the corner of your vision to hit zero. your lips open and they're cracking, splitting along the seams, and you say- what in the hell...

"---?" the static buzzes, "who-" but you're not listening, and the oxygen deprivation must be getting to you, because there's a dog floating in front of you.

you're in the deepest reaches of the ether. you can barely even see the light in front of you, because the stars are so much farther apart than you would ever think, and the earth you knew is currently being swallowed up by the sun so many billions of lightyears away, and there is a dog floating in front of you. and not just any dog, but Laika- and you know it's Laika, because your childhood dog looked just like her.

you remember because when you were seven you were crowded around the sole tv with five of your cousins and grandma darting, ducking in and out of the kitchen- offering guayaba here, tembleque there, eat a sandwich, have a coffee- and everyone was talking over each other because yelling is a love language when thirty close family members do it at once while trying to speak over the squawk of all the birds in their cages and the ticking knickknacks on the shelves on the yellow-painted walls- and because the tv was saying that the Russians killed a dog, the same Red-Scare tactic shit you didn't know you'd see a million more times, you were hugging Nena so tight that she was whining to be let go of. and you remember just holding on tighter because Nena was your personal Laika- looked just the same- and you could never imagine letting her go.

as you grew, you began to understand why humans forced the old girl to make the sacrifice. progress can only be done in increments. space, sea, frontier- all are unforgiving and yet so beautiful that humans can't help but reach. so you mourned her, as did the rest of humanity.

she floats in front of you now, her fur alight with stardust, bright eyes wide and locked on the lights reflected off your helmet's glass. the static burns brighter in your brain and her head cocks to the side, one ear perking up. you can't move more than the heaving of your chest as you've shifted to panting to try and gather back the oxygen you wasted by continuing to live even still.

you always wondered what the old girl thought, being left out here in the nothing. whether she was sad to see the world change so much without her being able to chase a single other squirrel. whether she missed getting her belly rubbed and treats and sleeping in the sunshine. whether she waited.

and maybe you're right about the last thing, because Laika's tail is wagging, and she pushes her head into one of your frozen, outstretched hands. even through the thick fabric you feel the softness of her halo-sewn fur, and it feels so much like your Nena that through the tears in your eyes you half expect to see your grandma walking into the room to tell everyone that dinner's ready.

and Laika yaps, bumping her silver-shining head against your palm and closing her eyes in delight, and you wish you could move. you wish the ice wasn't already settling in your joints. you want to pet her as much as she wants to be pet.

it's almost enough to make you forget this is an illusion for a dead man.

when Laika drifts slowly back you try to open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. it's no use speaking. you know this. you are drifting farther than the radars can reach and even when they do reach you, it will have been too late. more than that, what right do you, another creature lost to the void, have to ask her to remain longer in this frozen abyss?

your eyes start to drift closed.

you may have come to terms with your death, and you may just be coming around to accepting it. maybe now you are discovering that they really are the same thing.

there will be no more stories. there will be no more memories. there will only be you, at eternal rest, until the universe finally rips under its own weight.

there isn't anything more for you to do than wait for the end.

until you feel a tug.

eyelids unstick painfully as you stare ahead into the dark, and Laika is still there. you blink heavily, but each time your eyes open again, she remains floating outside. the mirage doesn't go away.

as you finally realize it, you notice the snapped tether she holds within her jaws. she tugs. in the vast range of the ether, you move a minuscule nanometer, and there's ice clinging to your bottom lashes as you try to tell her, that's enough now.

she tugs again. you move, but the distance is still too little. it's okay, you try to tell her, but she doesn't seem to hear.

she pulls and pulls with all her spectral might and you try to tell her you're so good- you're such a good girl- but please stop because it's not doing anything, really. you're still running low on air. you've already accepted your death, and now there's a pesky ember of hope burning at the bottom of your stomach.

humans have already done so much to her. you've already done so much to her, in an abstract way. you don't want to make a spirit cart around your damned corpse into eternity. but she still continues to pull.

the voices over the static are still shouting coordinates and asking questions, but you're distracted by the impossible creature trying to pull you back and the way the ice seems to retreat from your veins and the way, miraculously, the meter showing your oxygen levels begins to rise.

there's a sparking at Laika's heels like metal on the grindstone. she growls her frustration through teeth of platinum and her ears cock back as her muscles strain. and then, she runs.

the distance between stars suddenly shrinks into the size of a pin's head. you see constellations you haven't seen in years- Orion's belt, the Big Dipper, the Eagle. The stars fly by in a flash and yet you can chart the exact course as Laika's tail, more comet than dog, blazes through the night.

you remember now, why the jump from sailing to aerospace was so intuitive. navigating by the stars is in your blood.

and you can't help it. you laugh. because what else is there to do when relief balloons your chest out and makes your numb fingertips light? what do you do when you finally realize you're not going to die after all?

what do you do when you hear the young Lieutenant over the comms, comforting Macy, telling her you'll be found soon? when Macy says "Bayo, please-" and you realize you knew the kid's name after all?

what do you do when Bayo goes silent for a moment. when they finally ask, "is that- is that a dog...?"

what do you do when you're being saved by a ghost dog?

it's so beautiful, so ludicrously brilliant, that you can't help but laugh through the tears running hot on your cheeks.

and the way back isn't as long as you thought, but you sing regardless, and Laika's singing along with you, howling through the rope in her mouth with yips and starts as she runs you home.

#my writing #laika the space dog #laika #original fiction #science fiction #near death experience #happy ending #though so dw lol #god it's been a bit since i had the energy to sit down and Do This yknow #just write #that felt really good ngl

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killerfrostisme · 2 years

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A/N- I always thought that not knowing what happened directly after Lucy’s little announcement to leave the company was a crime against humanity, and recently with the release of the show, I have pretty much been brimming with inspiration and creative energy. So I thought to myself, why not put all that good stuff to good use instead of pining over existing Locklyle stories and watching all my favourite scenes from the show. I present to you an angst filled Locklyle story centred around the immediate aftermath of Lucy’s decision to leave the company in THB.

The italicised parts are taken directly from The Hollow Boy by Jonathan Stroud.

“-I’m resigning at once from Lockwood and Co.”

“So much for me enjoying this bloody cake,” said George.

The silence was deafening. And then everyone started clamouring in all at once. Well, by everyone she meant, George and Holly.

“Are you leaving because of me?” (Holly)

“Why are you leaving?” (George)

But she wasn’t listening or paying any heed to what they were saying. She had her eyes (and ears) set on only one person. And he was just staring at her with an unreadable expression, his eyes giving away nothing. She knew that ideally, she should have talked to him before she told the whole team, instead of suddenly springing it upon him. In a perfect situation that was the procedure followed in all agencies. But there was nothing ideal or perfect about the situation. In an ideal scenario, an employer would not be ready to give up their life for their employee, or the employee wouldn’t have lost control of their Talent to the point of almost endangering the employer’s life.

Suddenly, without warning-

“Why don’t we go for a walk, Lucy?” he asked, already getting up and moving to the hall, to get his coat. He said it in a not quite assertive manner, but definitely more of a statement than a question. She nodded, and followed him out, ignoring the accusatory and confused looks George was shooting at her and the downcast expression on Holly’s face.

It was a beautiful day outside, with the sun shining brightly, a rare occasion in dreary Britain. Clouds were gazing down prettily while birds were chirping. It seemed like a picture-perfect day for new beginnings.

But Lucy was not feeling it. Lockwood hadn’t even looked at her once, and was wordlessly walking next to her. Where they were going, she had no idea, she left that entirely up to him.

They reached the end of the road and took a sharp left, heading towards Arif's.

Tucked away in a little nook opposite Arif’s, squashed between a boutique and a pharmacy, there was a tiny, nondescript coffee shop called Jitterbug. It was an extremely small enterprise with barely enough space for a couple of tables and a counter. Yet, it was almost always packed. It served the best coffee Lucy had ever tasted. With a pang, she remembered she introduced Lockwood and George to it. They had spent a merry afternoon laughing as George tried to see how many ginger biscuits he could stuff into his mouth. Apparently, Lockwood was feeling nostalgic because without looking to see if she was following, he led her straight to it.

The bell jingled as they walked into the coffee shop, her nose breathing in the familiar smell of coffee and doughnuts. Lockwood seemed keen on snagging a table far away from the window, since he was leading her to the darkest corner of the place.

They sat down and ordered their drinks (black coffee for Lockwood and a caramel latte for Lucy) and she braced herself for the onslaught of questions that Lockwood would throw at her. Lockwood steepled his fingers over the table and gave her probably the most probing gaze he’d ever given.

“Why”

It was a simple question, yet so difficult to answer. There were so many layers in the answer, that she felt dizzy trying to unravel them all.

“My Talent is too strong, I can’t control it. I’ll put you all in danger if I-” she began.

“Rubbish.” he interrupted her, putting his hand up, palm facing her. “Please don’t insult my intelligence. You and I both know that’s not the reason. You’ve always been able to control your Talent before so why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

She stayed silent. The minutes that passed felt like hours. Their drinks arrived. She couldn’t tell him the truth, that she was petrified he was going to throw himself into death’s arms just to make sure that every part of her was safe and sound. She couldn’t tell him that deep down she had a feeling that the Fetch’s prophecy would come true, and he would die trying to save her. And the worst part was that he’d probably greet death like a long lost friend. She could not (would not!) let that happen. If that meant putting some distance between them, well so be it.

Even if it did feel as if her heart was tearing itself apart.

Lockwood sighed, and she was jolted back to the present. “Is this about Holly?” he said in a somewhat tired manner. “I thought things were improving, and I told you, you two complement each other.”

She felt a flash of annoyance flare up inside her. Why did everybody think that Holly was the only reason she was leaving? Granted, they (she) had caused the whole Aickmere’s devastation, but then everything that had to be yelled and screamed had already been done that dreadful night. Now, it was more of a quiet resignation. Something which everyone should be able to see, instead of asking her about it every two minutes.

“No,” she said evenly,“it’s not because of Holly.”

“Is it-” Lockwood began, somewhat hesitantly, “is it because of me?”

Well. That was unexpected. How on earth was she supposed to respond to a direct question like that?

“What makes you say that?” She said, taking a scalding hot sip of her drink. It burned the whole way through whilst going down her throat, but she relished the discomfort. It bought her time in trying to desperately think of an answer to his not-at-all-loaded question.

“You’ve been avoiding me, ever since that Fetch incident.” he said, looking at her intently, gauging her reaction. “You might think that I haven’t noticed, but I have. And if I’m deducing right, and if Holly is not the reason you’re leaving, then it must be something that happened there and it’s somehow related to me. So, why don’t you do us both a favour and tell me what it is? Because Luce, whatever it is I promise I’m going to help you. But I need you to open up for that.” He finished his little speech, by reaching out over the table and clasping both her hands, tightly in his.

Okay, she hadn’t expected that. She had expected him to charm her into staying or to grill her until she gave a satisfactory answer (which granted, he was kind of doing) but she had not expected him to establish physical contact with her, even if it was just holding her hands. Because that was something Lockwood seldom did. Everytime he came close to it, he always drew back and pulled away.

“No,” she lied, pulling her hands from his grasp. Touching him was dangerous territory. She might crumble and start blubbering like a moron about all her fears revolving around his death. “It’s not related to you either. I told you, it’s my Talent. It’s too strong. You saw what happened at Mrs. Wintergarden’s house. My Talent was controlling me, not the other way around. I am scared about what could happen. It’s best if I remove myself from the company, and not endanger your life…or the lives of others.” she finished, grabbing her drink and gulping it down in one smooth sitting.

Lockwood listened to her monologue in silence, his face becoming stonier by each word she uttered. “What happened in Mrs Wintergarden’s house was not because your Talent had all the power and you didn’t, it’s because you prioritised your empathy for the ghost over anything else. That is something that we can help you with, Lockwood and Co. We’ll always have your back and we’ll make sure you don’t go trying to talk to ghosts again. Leaving the company is not going to solve it.”

“At least I won’t put your lives at risk.”

Lockwood threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine, you quit,” he said, “but what happens after that? Will you give up this profession altogether or join another team and as you so eloquently put it, ‘endanger their lives?’” he asked, a sharp edge to his voice.

“I won’t join another team.” she said, massaging her temples, “I’ll freelance.”

“ I see,” he said coolly. “And when do you propose to leave?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Well, I’ll grant you your wish then,” he said in a slightly scathing voice, getting up from the table, leaving his coffee untouched, “you can leave and we won’t bother you again Lucy. Good luck with everything.” He turned around and walked out of the coffee shop, after stopping at the counter to pay for their order.

Lucy sat at the table, feeling like her whole world had just been turned upside down. She felt her emotions bubble to the surface and closed her eyes, finally letting the first tear fall.

A/N- Thanks for reading and hope you liked it! Posted the same on Fanfiction.net under the story Moments in Time, so come say hi if you want:)

#lockwood and lucy #anthony lockwood #books #ficlet #fiction #i love these two #locklyle #lucy carlyle #jonathan stroud #these two have me in a chokehold #writing practice #my writing #author is sleep deprived #angst #fanfic #fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co spoilers

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belovedblossoms-m · 1 year

Note

👑 Julia from the webtoon Marionetta

👑 Kougyoku from the manga Magi

( two very random suggestions that I think would fit your writing style , hehe ! )

Julia:

WOULD I: YES / MAYBE / NO

HAVE I EVER BEFORE: YES / NO

ICON & WRITING SAMPLE (IF YES TO EITHER PREV. QUESTION):

"This is such a pain...I still never asked for this." Julia grumbled as she whittled away with the wood and knife in her hands, half focused on the process of creating more puppets and more on her annoyance with this new job. "I shouldn't even be here doing this, even if it was to save Kamille..." The motion of her hand slowed at the realization, "Right...She would have stayed with them and I...we would never see each other again. But out of all the people here with contracts, why do I have to kill someone?! I can't be capable of that!" Julia gritted her teeth in frustration and did another long scrape, only to leave a clean cut on her finger. "Oww!" Her tools fell to the ground, wincing from the pain as she immediately pulled back and saw droplets of blood fall. Soon enough, it could be more...it could be someone else's blood on her hands instead of her own if she ever makes the choice.

Kougyoku:

WOULD I: YES / MAYBE / NO

HAVE I EVER BEFORE: YES / NO

ICON & WRITING SAMPLE (IF YES TO EITHER PREV. QUESTION):

"Ohh! How despicable he is to disrespect a lady!!" Ren huffed, her face red with a possible mix of anger and embarrassment together. The more she paced the more she kept remembering and the picture of his bare body resting beside her in bed never resisted. She then stopped, her arm raised as the sleeve of her garment attempt to hide away her blushing face as then the memory of his charming smile and kindness replaced them after. She sighed, "...and yet...how could I resist someone like him. Such an opportunity as him is right there for me as well." Ren sighed again dreamily, a light giggle behind her sleeve...things shouldn't be too bad, right?

SEND ME 👑 + A CHARACTER NAME OF A CHARACTER YOU THINK I SHOULD WRITE !

#( answered. )┊heed the call to new beginnings.#//I've read a little of Marionetta and it's pretty interesting so far so thx for the suggestion!#//As for Ren I may gotta watch more of the anime to get a better grasp of her but I've seen a video of her on yt and she's interesting :3

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dwellordream · 7 months

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“The instruction of girls was not meant to prepare them to take part in political life. Women were not citizens on par with men in the new United States. Except in New Jersey, they could not vote or hold public office. In most ways the establishment of a republic had left women’s political status unchanged. But in a few subtle areas, progress was made. Women’s work as mothers assumed greater purpose. Mothers were largely responsible for the early education of their children. They could rear either strong, virtuous children who would become valuable citizens or lazy, ignorant youngsters who could be corrupted easily and thus become undesirable members of society.

…For women to do their job properly, they needed to possess high moral standards. They could learn these standards best if they were educated and religious. Ideally, all women should be able to read, write, keep accounts, and think logically about current issues. They were also expected to attend church and heed the moral directions of their ministers. The middle and upper ranks of American society had even higher standards for women’s education by the end of the 18th century. Among wealthy women, poor reading, writing, and speaking skills became unacceptable. Elite men wanted their daughters to receive an education similar to that of their college-bound sons.

…The curriculum of female academies focused a great deal on subjects previously considered frills: rhetoric, grammar, geography, history, arithmetic, and oratory. Now the areas of study that once had been thought essential for elite women--music, dancing, and needlework--were regarded as recreational activities or not taught at all. Although many girls continued to study these subjects and to receive praise for doing so, intellectual development was regarded as equally or more important.

…Soon boarding schools for girls also opened. They appeared in rural areas as well as towns and answered a need for families who did not have relatives living in a northeastern city. One of the most successful was the Moravian Seminary in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, which had a reputation for strictly supervising the morals of its students while providing an advanced curriculum. …Parents were particularly concerned that their daughters receive moral instruction at boarding schools, where girls lived for extended periods of time. At the Moravian Seminary, for example, students stayed for a maximum of about three years, beginning when they were as young as 10 or 12 years old.

…When mothers wrote to their daughters at school, they frequently stressed the importance of diligence and urged their daughters not to waste their time. In turn, many girls recognized that they had been given a privilege their mothers had not enjoyed, and that their absence from home represented considerable maternal sacrifice. After all, during these years they could be of greatest help to their mothers in running their households. For some families, doing without a teenage daughter’s labor must have been as difficult as paying for the cost of her higher education.

…Although girls strove for academic excellence, they had nowhere to employ their education after graduation. Colleges were closed to women during this era, and so were the professions. Women might become skilled healers, but they could not attend medical school and become licensed physicians. They might offer religious instruction in their homes, but they could not serve as ministers for any congregations, except those of the Quakers. They might run successful businesses as single women, but when they married, the law demanded that they have their husbands’ permission to continue working outside the home.

…Under the laws of England as enforced in the United States, married women could not own property in their own name without special (and rare) contracts called marriage settlements. Everything a woman brought to marriage became her husband’s. Movable goods became her husband’s absolutely, and a man could sell or give away his wife’s movables at will. Men’s control over women’s real estate was restricted, however. A husband could not mortgage or sell his wife’s land unless the woman consented and signed deeds stating she did so of her own free will. But during marriage, a man could manage his wife’s real estate and take all the rents and profits for his own use.

…After the Revolution, all the new states made divorces easier to obtain. Some legislatures voted to allow both formal separations with property divisions, and absolute divorces that permitted remarriage. Others provided only for separations. But everywhere it was acknowledged that women and men needed legal recourse for disastrous marriages. …Freedom from English law allowed Americans to institute reforms in marriage that England adopted only in the 20th century. Both women and men benefitted from the new laws, which acknowledged male as well as female adultery and prohibited physical cruelty. American lawmakers congratulated themselves on their liberality to the female sex, but the courts still favored men. They routinely demanded more evidence of men’s wrongdoing than women’s and automatically gave men custody of their children.”

- Marylynn Salmon, “Independence Realized: New Directions for American Women.” in The Limits of Independence: American Women, 1760-1800

#marylynn salmon #colonial #american #history #gender #education #the limits of independence

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brooklynislandgirl · 7 months

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@honorhearted {{xx}}

By the time Beth reached her fifteenth winter, she'd been married a countless number of times. Beneath the rose-bower her father had planted for her mother when the Boston house was still only it's foundations and her parents were a little younger than she is now, solemn in her best dress and her caplet for Mass. Under the graceful and slender arms of the willow trees just on the outskirts of the Setauket farm, where she pretended the well mannered old hunting dog was her dear groomsman. A full five years younger than Andrew and his friends, she was sometimes left out of their games and their education, thus making it necessary for her to play on her own. These weddings were sometimes rushed and sometimes languished until she was called in by her governess, Hannah, to take tea and some light meal. Not one of those nuptials lasted past an afternoon, and none were so much her favourite as the ones where she closed her eyes tightly and imagined Ben taking her trembling hand. Perhaps that was the truth of the tears and inconsolable grief that fell over her as a bitter pall when he went away to school and the family in turn moved inward to their fine new house in Pennsylvania. She could not know then that her father grieved the loss of her mother in child-bed, that their home had become a crypt to her memory, and that the new house was some salve for his spirit. He had never not doted on her, but perhaps that was how she had been forged…wrong, given more latitude than any could imagine. She should have been an excellent prospect for a happy future but in her heart of hearts, she has more in common with a younger son than all the society maidens of her acquaint. Each year that passes she is those twelve months closer to spinsterhood. The stirrings of war were perhaps a blessing as much as it is a curse, delaying the inevitable. She will at it's end ~and of course it must come to a conclusion, either in much hoped for victory or the purgatory of defeat~ be given to someone of her father's choosing. But here? Here is her heart's yearning. With straying lock eloped from its queue, with a body like mountain stones, with a countenance of brooding night, he is set over his papers. He hardly stirs, seems more effigy than living man. Then towers over her when he gets to his feet before her trembling fingers fully affix the token and she does not know what else she should have expected. They certainly have had no sweetness between them in these last days. She is as doomed now as she was all those years ago. He says nothing when she speaks and she steels herself to take her leave once the offering is given only to find herself caught within his grasp. Watches his mouth work for a moment and cannot look away from him. She half expects him to push her away but instead Ben chooses to caress himself against her palm. His gaze swims in the light of his candles, reflecting their glimmering light. Hannah is not here to herd her back to the house, nor is there a holy father in his black robes to rescue her soul from its imperilment. She is not so sure she would heed either one well with the way he is gazing at her, and with how her heart leaps in her breast as if to throw itself at his feet. His voice surrounds her like night and shadow when he asks the ribbon's purpose. But before she can answer, he takes hold of her face and kisses her forehead, ever so chastely. So close is he that she wonders if he can hear her heart beginning to crack. If only he could know what it feels to have him so close and yet unable to do anything about it. She is his friend, yes, but not as she should be.

He torments her with another peppering of kisses, his lips soft and tender as she dreamed they might be. Kisses that half cage her breath in her throat so that it staggers forth drunkenly and comes to a crashing halt against him. His fingers abandon her wrists in favour of her waist, a touch that holds a heavy sort of intimacy and her knees become as water. She melts just as easily as the wax being consumed by its flame on his desk. His next question, the caress of his mouth against the shell of her ear, turns that flicker to conflagration and were she a house, she would be only ashes. Pity then that she is only human and her own hands move from his chest. One rises to his shoulders and take perch there while inching its way toward his hair, while the other settles near his hip and fingers tighten. This purchase on him is all that keeps her upright, when all of her wants to simply sink against Ben. All of her turns to molten fire as his teeth graze against her skin. All the air in her lungs seems to dissipate in that moment as her heart sets a thunderous pace. As every last inch of her strives to be that much closer to him she rises upward, pressing her modest curves against him despite the fact that some parts of her are now painfully taut. She starts to nuzzle him in return before he catches her and draws her gaze upward ~she doesn't hear the little wordless sound that ekes out of her throat~ and he pours himself into her gaze. Hers is hazy with a certain sort of madness, half lidded in the dim light. Her throat rises and falls beneath that second caress as she manages a shuddering whisper. "Is ceol mo chroí thú, Benjamin." Thick dark lashes settle against her otherwise pale skin and her eyes close and her lips part. The time of her tongue slinks across them in an invitation to kiss her proper. She feels her belly tighten and it feels like a flock of birds startled from their brush take wing within her. Lost in the moment she is left standing there unsteady and bereft when Ben pulls away from her and she momentarily recoils. What has she said? What has she done that he would retreat from her? She takes a needed half step back to steady herself and above her gaze her brows knit marking her confusion when she opens her eyes and tilts her head. On his knees he looks anguished, not a thought of prayer or God anywhere to be found in his visage.

Something inside of her breaks. Neither anger nor despair, not quite hurt. She has no word for it but it puts mettle in her spine. Now empty hands smooth her skirts and she takes a sobering breath, blinking back the moisture suddenly gathered there. For a split second her lips purse closed and the corners of them tremble as she tries desperately to gather wisps of thought into something more substantial. When she does? She takes the few steps that kill the space between them. It feels strange to be able to gaze down into his face though she isn't much taller than he is this way. "I know," she begins slowly though there is kindness laced through her words. "Caleb let slip, why do you think I came? Do you honestly believe I could watch you ride into hell's embrace and not...not wish to have spent these last moments? I don't know where you will go. What you will encounter with your dragoons. But I do know that when you go, you will take all of me with you. Saints preserve, because...because I love you, Ben Tallmadge. That is all the truth that need live in my heart." She cradles his face between her small, trembling hands and this time she tilts his face upward. Every word she spoke is etched in the lines of her face, in the way her eyes darken before she lowers her face to his and presses her lips against his own.

#honorhearted #Your Ornament Tree|Ben Tallmadge #The Oak and the Ash|Ben and Beth #Blood on the Vine|Turn au #Jockey Hollow|Morristown 1779 #Winter Camp #terminally long post is terminally long #{{I say I am sorry but...we both know I absolutely am not.}}

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copiousloverofcopia · 10 months

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Hi this is the anon who asked about Copia and Cirrus earlier. I got nervous about asking about them so did anon. But yes I would be interested, I love them so much together ❤️ thanks for answering the ask!!

Hello Ghestie!!!!

I have finally finished your requested follow up for our dear Papa Copia and his expectant Prime Mover Cirrus!

Hope it was worth the wait!!!!

Hope you all enjoy!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

Thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the divider. 🦇

His Pride and Joy

Copia and Cirrus as enjoying the quiet moments between them before welcoming their child...but a surprise soon awaits them.

Also available HERE on AO3! If you haven't read part 1, My Lioness you can read that HERE to start!