#DSS universe
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soft-tober | 05 | Jake Seresin
soft-tober is about experiencing the joys of October with loved ones. each day is a fall-related one-shot for one of the couples from my Dagger, Sword & Shield universe, plus a few extras! today is Jake and Flora with “Trick or treat?” “…Depends on if you’re the treat or not.” from this prompt list.
If you’d like to be tagged for soft-tober, please send an ask!
word count: 1.4k
soft-tober masterlist | main masterlist | divider credit here
warnings: extreme fluff, Jake being a sweetheart, lots of kissing
callsignspark disclaimer: my blog is an 18+ space; minors do not interact - you will be blocked. I do not consent to my work being copied, run through an AI generator, translated, or posted elsewhere. I do have an AO3, where I eventually will be cross-posting my works.
05. “Trick or treat?” “…Depends on if you’re the treat or not.”
“A little to the left… no, right. Left. Right. Don’t you know how to center something, Jake?!”
The blonde man turns on the ladder, eyebrows raised in amusement. “It is centered, Flora. You’re just standing at an angle.”
Her heart drops as she looks around, realizing she is off-center. A couple scoots to the left tells her that Jake does have the wreath perfectly centered on the balcony.
“I’m sorry.” The apology is muffled as she rubs at her eyes. Flora knows she’s being ridiculous, putting way too much effort into decorating for the shop-or-treat the business of Madison Ave are hosting during the fall block party. Staying open later than usual to hand out candy to costumed children while their parents patronize the shops.
She’s trying her hardest to appeal to kids so they’ll drag their parents inside. A florist isn��t exciting to little ones, not when there’s a bakery three doors down and a comic book store across the street. So the décor - a strategic blend of fall and Halloween - is going to be doing the heavy lifting to get people to stay for longer than it takes to put a Snickers in a pumpkin bucket.
Jake climbs down the ladder after securing the wreath in place, wrapping his arms around Flora and pulling her into his chest.
“I’m sorry.” She apologizes again, her face pressed against his strong chest.
“It’s okay.” He reassures her, his warm hands rubbing her back. “I know you’re stressed, but you don’t have to worry about Studio Cacti taking over.”
Studio Cacti. Another florist shop that opened up over the summer only two blocks away. Owned by some snobby girl who was paying the bills with Daddy’s money. Flora felt hypocritical saying that, considering how she paid for the shop’s remodel and the new flower cooler, but she had started all on her own. Scrimping and saving, pouring every available cent into her shop. During that first year, she had even slept on an air mattress in her office, unable to afford the store mortgage and her apartment rent at the same time.
“Yes, I do, Jake. She’s got more money at her disposal than I’ll make in my entire life. When push comes to shove, she’ll win because she can afford it.”
“Trust me, I have a few ideas, and if I can get everything into place, you’ll be the most successful florist in the city, maybe even the county.”
Flora pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ears as she stares at Jake. The smug look on his face should make her wary - should turn her off - but it doesn’t. It makes her feel giddy whenever she sees it; she’s pretty sure he Pavloved her with his bright smile.
“And am I allowed to know about these plans?”
“Nope, just worry about shop-or-treat for now.”
“It’s my shop, Jacob.”
“God, I love when you call me that.”
“Focus.”
The undignified noise that escapes as he squats down and wraps her legs around his waist makes her cheeks burn. Usually, she hates when men try to pick her up, but she never hates when Jake does it. Flora is taken off guard again when he plops her on the counter next to the register, using the distraction to ignore the voice telling her it’s okay when Jake does it because she likes him.
“I am focused, Phillips. C’mere.”
He kisses her just like he did the first time, like he’s done every time. Gentle at first, simply pressing their lips together as he cups her neck, then he tugs her closer, intensity increasing as he tests the waters to see if she wants to go further.
Normally, she’s all in for a good makeout session, one where his big hands will roam and caress her body in just the right way that will lead to them being naked later on, but tonight, she pulls back.
“Can we do a test run?”
“A test- of what?”
“Of shop-or-treat. You go out and come in pretending to be a kid. Use fresh eyes; look for anything that needs improving.”
“You want me to pretend to be a ten-year-old boy?”
“It should be easy; that’s how mature you are.” She regrets the snipe as soon as it leaves her mouth, Jake immediately attacking her sides. Flora holds out for about five seconds, laughter bubbling out as she gives in. “Uncle! Uncle!”
“I just want to put it on record that I think this is a dumb idea because everything is already great, but I’m doing this anyway. For you.”
She hates the way her heart flutters at his wink. They had agreed to be friends-with-benefits, nothing more. Heart thumping was definitely not within the bounds of their agreement. Maybe it was time to end the arrangement.
The bells ring as Jake walks back in, doing exactly what she asked and interrupting her thoughts. Green eyes big and round as he looks around the store like a kid in a candy shop. His eyebrows furrow slightly at different points in the room, and Flora knows he’s making mental notes on what needs to be changed.
She lets him go on for a few minutes, swinging her legs and admiring how his gray t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. Shoulders that probably still have marks where her nails dug into him a few days ago.
“Aren’t you going to say it?”
“Say what?” He asks as he finishes his examination, standing a few feet in front of her.
“Trick or treat?”
“Well… depends on if you’re the treat or not.” He laughs as she whines his name. “Everything is great. The only thing that’s going to make it better is us finishing what you already had planned.”
“Really?”
“Even the most sticky, snotty-nose brat will want to come into the flower shop with the pretty lady behind the counter.”
Flora’s breath hitches as he crowds into her space, hands tugging her hips closer as their lips meet. She melts into the kiss, sinking her hands into his hair. It’s getting a bit long; he’ll need to get a trim soon so he’s up to regulations, but she loves how it feels between her fingers. He’s the only man she didn’t have to introduce to conditioner, his sisters taking care of that lesson back in high school.
“Excuse me, are you open?”
Her internal debate about whether to hook her legs around him here or pull him up to her office and put the couch to good use is interrupted as they break apart.
“What?” Flora pants, brain still scrambled from how Jake was grabbing at her thighs.
“Are you open?”
“No, ma’am; I’m sorry, we’re not open right now.”
“Oh, that’s too bad! I wanted to get flowers for my daughter, she just gave birth! Lilies are her favorite, and I saw your case through the window. You have the most beautiful options.”
“I’m sorry if you want to come back-”
“Is it your first grandchild?” Jake interrupts, sliding Flora off the counter.
“It is! A little girl!”
“Congratulations!” He smiles, turning to Flora. “Take the sale; I’ll finish decorating.”
A kiss on her forehead, and he’s making his way up the stairs, unraveling leaf garland to wrap around the banister.
She’s only slightly distracted as she puts together a bouquet filled with white lilies, baby’s breath, and eucalyptus for the new grandmother, Jake constantly on her mind. And after cashing out her newest customer and locking the door, Flora makes her way upstairs. Her heart soft as she watches Jake carefully string twinkle lights along the railing he just finished decorating, his tongue poking out in concentration.
“Hey, Jake?”
“Yeah, darlin'?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” His pretty green eyes blink up at her in confusion, and she realizes she’s not quite sure how to answer.
Thank you for helping decorate.
Thank you for understanding about how much I work.
Thank you for accepting that I can only do friends-with-benefits with you.
“Just… for everything.”
“Of course, whatever you need, Flora. You know that.”
She feels herself weakening as he stands up and saunters over to her, his smile so big that his eyes crinkle and his dimples show. This time, Flora doesn’t make a noise when he lifts her; just wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. The two of them giggling when Jake drops her onto the couch and climbs on top of her, hooking her legs over his hips.
The decorating is so not getting finished tonight… oh well.
@gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @hangmanbrainrot | @princessphilly | @hangmanssunnies | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007 | @whatislovevavy | @kmc1989 | @sometimesanalice | @laracrofted | @yuckosworld | @mika-darling | @bradshawsbaddie | @bobblebobsbae | @ohtobeleah | @withahappyrefrain
#elle’s soft october#top gun maverick fic#top gun maverick au#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fic#top gun au#top gun imagine#DSS universe#jake hangman seresin fic#jake seresin fic#jake hangman seresin x oc#jake seresin x oc#jake seresin imagine#hangman imagine#Xs and Os fic#X&O fic#elle writes
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@anomalisticofferings tagged me to show the albums I've been listening to recently. Lately I've barely heard music but here they are, love to see how Hällas are always on the list.
I tag @riveroflonging, @valley-of-sacrifice, @tombofgod, @karontte and @crumbargento.
#tag#tagged#music tag#anomalisticofferings#universe#cirith ungol#metallica#sumerlands#DSS#hällas#nuovo testamento
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Protection I
Okay I did the quickest of Google searches to get some of this info, please don't hold it against me. I have no idea what I’m doing as usual.
Hope you enjoy, I'm looking forward to writing more of it.
5.2k words
“Y’could’ve jus’ asked,” he called from behind her. “S’dangerous t’walk alone this late at night.”
She rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “No one is going to try and kidnap me for political purposes on a Wednesday night while I get a drink with friends,” she told him.
“Love, s’not what I meant,” he said gently.
Harry was ready.
He ironed a white button-down shirt and paired it with a blue tie. He put on a grey suitcoat over it to match the slacks he picked out along with black dress shoes that he had long since broken in. In fact, he thought he could probably run a marathon in them if necessary.
He looked over his freshly shaven face, rubbing his jaw with a face lotion his sister got him for his birthday last year. He used the mirror to fix a few astray pieces of hair that refused to sit neatly but not perfectly flat on his head. Part of him wished he didn’t volunteer to do this because his stomach was flipping with anxiety. Sure, he was used to this. Used to the nerves and the first day jitters. It was a good job and was hopefully going to be a great way to see the country. While his English accent made him stick out a bit, it also helped him blend a bit into the background; no one would think that Harry was a special agent there to protect a family member of the US cabinet.
Plus, he was doing Niall a huge favor. Niall was the one that got Harry a job with the Diplomatic Security Service in the first place, so he owed it to Niall to at least try. Make his friend look good and not ruin his reputation. One of Niall’s favorite coworkers was the one that trained Harry to be an agent for the DSS, since Niall wasn’t one. But Niall was the one that had heard horror stories of the girl that wreaked havoc on many of the agents put in place to protect her. Going toe to toe with her meant a more...fulfilling job...after a couple months. At least that’s what Niall had heard and shared with Harry.
“I don’t know what her issue is Harry. But you’re all but DSS’s last hope,” he said. Niall didn’t have to take a round against her. He wasn’t an agent in the protection division. He sat behind a desk going over paperwork. Frequently the paperwork assigning and reassigning the girl’s security detail. But he knew Harry needed a job and he was happy to recommend him. He vouched for him, but Niall was certain the agency would have taken someone off the street and thrown them in the ring at this stage in the game.
Harry was on the younger side. Close to her age, so he had been told in the interview. Maybe that would help. He seemed unfazed. It was just a job. She was just a girl. They had to protect her. But through all he heard, it didn’t sound like they really wanted to protect her all that much anymore.
How much trouble could a twenty-four-year-old graduate biochemistry student get up to?
Niall wished him luck as Harry was debriefed once more about his job. Keep an eye on her, run checks on people she interacts with, make sure she doesn’t die. “Her father is Secretary of State,” they reminded Harry.
Harry nodded. “Got it.”
He took the address that was sent to him into his phone’s GPS and followed the directions to the apartment complex in the small, undercover black SUV issued to him. There was bulletproof glass protecting him from the outside world and tinted windows hiding him through the glass. His mum messaged him.
Good luck, honey bun!
He smirked. Harry may have been twenty-nine, but his Mum’s messages made him feel like a little kid. He adored her, all the way across the pond recognizing what time it was so she could make sure to send him a good luck text as she always had; first day of university, first real job, or even just a trip to the dentist (Harry hated the dentist).
The little apartment complex was inconspicuous. There wasn’t anything special about it, just a brick building with several floors—it couldn’t have been more than 8 apartments. A buzzer door and buttons along the side. The code was sent to him to let himself in.
It’s just a girl. He reminded himself.
Harry took the stairs to the top and fourth floor. It gave him time to calm his nerves and plan his approach based on the way he heard the tales from coworkers. Maybe he would try and befriend her? Harry was down to be friends with her if she wanted. Or maybe that was a bad idea. Maybe he should just try and out-stubborn her. Harry and Gemma used to have contests about who could hold their breath longest when they were young. Harry wasn’t against passing out in the name of winning.
The final steps to her apartment were silent. The current agent at the door looked at Harry with relief. He saluted him, muttered good luck, and hurried back down. Surprised by the immediate departure, Harry gently knocked on the door. The man didn’t even confirm that Harry was his relief. “DSS,” he said quietly to the door.
It took a moment, but at once the door was out of the way. She was shorter than Harry—which arguably wasn’t hard to do with his six-foot frame. Her hair was pulled back by a clip at the back of her head, some strands falling from it to frame her round face. She had a freckle on her brow line and Harry found it unbelievably cute and surprised himself that it was one of the first things he noticed. The space between her eyebrows was pinched together and Harry wanted to smooth it out because even though she was going to be a pain in his ass, she was adorable. Her eyes scanned him quickly and he hoped despite the stories he had heard that she would at least appreciate his professionalism. Her lips were pressed together—not hard, just...resting against one another. Harry was quick to realize it was the least professional thing he could think of: staring at her mouth.
Mum always re-quoted that the eyes were windows to the soul. It was always the first thing Harry noted when he pursued a girl. He loved the idea of gazing into her eyes and trying to find out more about her just through her irises. Maybe if he looked into hers, he would understand why a short little thing like her could scare an entire division of special agents with varying degrees of combat training or intelligence operations.
Her lips pursed into a mocking smile, and she spoke. “Oh, I get it. Send someone young so I relate to them. Someone that will understand my attitude,” she rolled her eyes. Harry raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. Not even a hello. No introduction. Feisty. Right away.
“I’m sorry?”
“Daddy dearest only sent you here because the last seven agents couldn’t handle the paperwork that I made them do. I escape a lot.”
Harry sighed. “Thought y’were gonna be easy,” it was a fib. He knew she was going to be difficult but maybe if he played the part she wouldn’t be as tough on him.
“Nope,” she said petulantly, like that was going to piss Harry off. He assumed it worked on the others that came before him.
Harry could play the petulant game. He was the younger sibling after all. He nodded. “Got it. Well. M’name is Harry. I won’t bother you. I’ll be here if you’d like t’get t’know me. Or when y’leave,” he pulled the door shut and stood beside it. Hands behind his back, listening to the silence inside the door.
“Is this a joke?” She asked through the wood after a full minute. He didn’t respond. The door opened.
“Going somewhere?” Harry asked without looking at her. He could see her in his peripheral.
“No,” she looked at Harry curiously. “You’re not going to...try?” She wondered.
“Try what?” He asked innocently staring at the wall opposite her door.
She shook her head and sighed. “Uh... I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly, uncomfortableness rang in her voice. Harry turned to her, honestly a bit surprised at how readily she apologized. Didn’t seem like something that would be in her repertoire. “Do you want to come in?” She asked. See? Harry thought. She could be perfectly reasonable. “I have seats... you don’t have to stand out here the whole time,” she murmured.
“Thanks, love,” he said politely and followed her through the doorway. He dropped his bag into a seat closest to the door. It just had the department issued computer inside it.
The space was homey. Again, he was surprised by the contrast of the stories he heard versus the sunny outward appearance. He expected rage which he wasn’t sure how that would translate exactly into interior design, but he thought it would be messy. The only hint of a mess was a spot on the coffee table littered with papers and notebooks and a laptop. The grey sofa was also covered with papers and a plain black backpack.
He did not anticipate it being a pretty place. It could rival a florist shop. There were prints of flowers hung on a white mat with black frames at regular spaced intervals. Vinelike garlands decorated with an array of pink flowers of all sorts draped along the slate blue (nearly grey) painted walls near the top of each of the three walls making up the big room—almost like a bordered edge. The fourth wall was the back of the kitchen and contained various appliances leaving no room for flowers, but Harry thought she probably tried when she moved in anyway.
The whole room was open: the sitting room, the dining area, and the kitchen. There were two loveseat sofas, one a modern grey facing the TV. The other perpendicular to the grey one; a solid navy blue that sat in front of three windows. Each window had a sheer grey curtain that matched the sofa, draped with more vines of flowers across all three windows of course. Between the TV and the grey sofa was a grey coffee table and besides the papers and notebooks, there was of course a little vase with pink sunflowers. A large bookshelf was to the left of her TV stand.
In the back corner beside the door was a round dining table and four mismatched dining chairs where Harry had dropped his bag. Another little vase sat in the middle of the table with more pink flowers. The kitchen smelled yummy. Like bacon. That was as much as he could see from the entryway. There was a short little hall but hidden behind a wall he couldn’t see around but assumed a bedroom and a bathroom were around there.
“S’a very nice place,” he murmured.
She was still staring at him as if he just said he liked to eat handfuls of dirt and drink from the river. “Thank you,” she said kindly after a beat of silence. Like she thought maybe it was a trick. “I...I don’t really have any plans tonight. I’ll be studying for an exam I have tomorrow...you could honestly probably leave if you wanted to,”
He thought she sounded genuine but given all the stories, he wasn’t sure. “I’d rather stay put. I can go back in the hall if that would make you more comfortable,” he suggested. “But may I see the rest of the place or would y’rather I wait till later? When you’re less busy?” He asked.
She blinked almost surprised. Harry imagined she wasn’t used to privacy but since he wanted her to like him, he thought respecting her boundaries was going to be the easiest way to do it. Most of her previous details were older. They probably had children of their own around her age or younger and thought treating her like one of their own and bossing her around would be easy. In all the meetings Harry attended and interviews and explanations of the girl before him not once did they seem to note she was an adult.
“Oh...uh...yeah,” she mumbled and gestured for him to walk down the hall. He was right: a bedroom and a bathroom, but he was surprised to find a second bedroom. It didn’t seem like the space was big enough from the outside. She opened all the doors. “This one’s the spare,” she said and showed him the room with nothing but a bed and small three drawer dresser and a chair that looked like it belonged in a college dorm in the corner. There was a door leading to a closet (he assumed). Compared to the main room, it was lackluster given there wasn’t a single flower in the room.
Along the same wall was the bathroom. The room was the same slate grey as the sitting room. The shower curtain was white, with a pattern of pink flowers. The fuzzy bathmat and hand towels matched the pink flowers. A little flowerpot was placed on a shelf hanging above the toilet, but Harry could have predicted at this point that pink flowers would be in the little pot. A chic gold brushed mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet hung over the sink with the same gold brushed faucet fixtures. A linen closet opposite the light switch right as you walked in, no door to it so he could see her well-stocked array of bathroom necessities, extra towels, and cleaning supplies.
“My room,” she shrugged and pushed the door open. Another bookshelf was draped with green vines. Fascinating. She liked to read a lot, it seemed. A long dresser was beneath the window along the back wall. A nightstand with a biochemistry textbook and a copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was closest to the door near the top of her bed. A weird pair of books for late night reading, he thought. Harry would have to pick the non-textbook one up at the bookstore later. Find another way to relate to her. This room was painted a light blue—so light it was almost white. More vines and flowers. Her bed was made neatly. This time slate-blue-almost-grey color again. Once more pink flowers.
“Are y’a botanist?” He asked, turning back for the main room. He didn’t want to spend a lot of time staring at her room and make her uncomfortable.
She smirked, closing the door following behind him. “Just love color and flowers,” she shrugged. “The grey makes it pop,” she explained. “But I wanted a little bluer for my bedroom. Didn’t want it to seem all dreary.” It was the furthest from dreary.
“S’lovely.”
“Well thanks,” she repeated, just as graciously as before.
She sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. “You can make yourself at home, there’s some drinks in the fridge—non-alcoholic of course, since you’re on the job, but I wouldn’t tell anyway,” she murmured and began scribbling on her papers almost instantly.
Harry felt deeply surprised. He pulled his laptop out and checked the emails. The internal messaging system alerted him that Niall had sent a message. How is she?
Fine. He responded.
Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket immediately. It was Niall. “FINE?” He asked in shock.
Harry shrugged. “Yes.”
Niall released a breath through his lips in surprise. “I can’t believe it. Usually she has people begging for reassignment after five minutes.”
Harry looked over at the girl working at the coffee table. He looked back at his laptop. “Don’t know,” he murmured.
“You can tell whoever you’re talking to that I’m not the bitch everyone makes me out to be if you’re fucking nice to me,” she grumbled.
Harry smirked. “I like her,” he said loud enough for her to hear. But she didn’t pause at all. Nor did she stray from her position or what she was doing to notice Harry’s kind comment.
*
She left Harry in the main room. He would stay until midnight when some woman would take over the detail. She didn’t hate the woman. She at least allowed her privacy when she wanted it. But she was surprised how much she liked Harry and they’d hardly interacted beyond an exchange of pleasantries. Him leaving in a couple hours seemed unfair.
Harry already had her phone number and he told her he would send her a message, so she had his in case of an emergency. “Not sure what emergency exists in my bedroom,” she muttered. He smirked and shrugged.
“Protocol, love,” he said. So he was one of those. She thought.
She liked his accent. Honestly, she liked everything about Harry. He was gorgeous. It was shocking. There was a moment where she forgot she was supposed to be agitated by her security detail when he introduced himself. It was almost instinctive that her hand wanted to reach out and play with his brown locks that curved every which way around his head. His eyes were this piercing green that she felt the desire to repaint her room the same emerald color. She nearly had to crane her neck to see all six feet of him. And in a simple suit, he was just...beautiful.
But then he pulled the door shut not taking her shit for even a second. Her brain felt out of sorts as she tried to reconcile the attitude, she wanted to have against the one she felt. Not once did someone just back off her. Maybe having someone closer to her age was the trick. But she didn’t want a security detail. Right?
Harry was so utterly polite, complimenting her place, respecting her boundaries as much as possible given his position. Ugh. He was ruining all the hard work she had put in to be a bitch toward DSS.
Fortunately, her phone vibrated as she closed the door to her bedroom. It was a friend from one of her classes telling her they were having a round of drinks before their final exam in the morning. She didn’t want to go. It was ten o’clock and her brain was exhausted from the marathon studying all afternoon and evening with her only breaks introducing herself to Harry and when she ordered them pizza.
Harry insisted on paying. Another weird notion from him. She never really ordered food for her security details, but she always did offer, and she always paid. Her mother taught her to have manners and be polite, even if she was mad—it would make her more amicable. However, she thought a lot of her previous agents assumed she was trying to poison them when she ordered them food. Harry didn’t talk much to her while they ate. He asked her what she was studying and if she felt confident about the exam.
She worked her ass off to be successful in her classes. She was one of the top students, she knew it. But everyone else saw it as the Secretary of State’s doing, not her own. But yes, she was confident about the exam.
But now it was 10:04 and she wanted to be included. She didn’t want to come off as “Daddy’s little princess” and the goody-two-shoes she was accustomed to being. Biting her lip, she pressed her ear to her door. She couldn’t hear Harry at all. Harry seemed cooler than her other details, she could probably just ask him to take her and hang back as far as humanly possible. He told her he was going to read the files on the people she surrounded herself with while she went to sleep.
He would be back first thing in the morning for a full day of watching her every movement. She quietly changed into an easy, comfy outfit. Jeans, t-shirt, her most comfortable broken-in Keds. She glanced at the mirror on the back of her closet and put on a couple dabs of concealer around her eyes and a few swipes of mascara. It was one round of drinks; she would be back before Harry left his post and she wouldn’t even have to worry about locking up her apartment. She shoved her ID and her credit card into the back of her phone case and then put it in her back pocket.
Carefully, she opened the window pausing around the part that always groaned in the humidity from the outside August air. She quietly pulled the screen in and laid it on her bed. With cat-like soft feet, she got out onto the platform of the fire escape. Closing the window behind her, once more minding the swelled portion. She made her way down the fire escape. The walk to the bar was less than half a mile.
As she turned the corner of the building to walk along the streetlamp-lit roads she was pushed suddenly and almost violently against the building. She nearly lost her footing, but the person kept her upright and was surprisingly gentle with her before she slammed into the bricks. Her lungs inhaled, ready to let out a scream, but a hand was covering her mouth at the same time causing her heart rate to skyrocket. “Seriously?” Harry’s accent cut through her terrified mind.
The terror seeped out of her mind as anger coursed through her. Maybe the close in age thing wasn’t going to be a good plan after all. If this was one of her other agents, they wouldn’t have known she was gone until she had finished her drink and was walking back home. She shoved his hand from her mouth, and she glared at him. Her body was shaking with her fight or flight response and a lot rage. “What?” She snapped and started marching down the road.
“Y’could’ve jus’ asked,” he called from behind her. “S’dangerous t’walk alone this late at night.”
She rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “No one is going to try and kidnap me for political purposes on a Wednesday night while I get a drink with friends,” she told him.
“Love, s’not what I meant,” he said gently. The kindness in his tone made her attitude waver again. But she was mad that he caught her. That never happened. She didn’t want to be sneakier. She thought she might actually like Harry. He even said he liked her to whoever he was on the phone with—that made her heart warm despite how she pretended not to hear. If Harry liked her, it would be much harder to maintain the isolated, bitchy attitude she gave all the other security agents.
“What’s there to worry about? Someone shoving me against a building and covering my mouth?” She grumbled.
“I didn’t want t’scare you; I was jus’ trying t’show you that someone could’ve snuck up,” he was keeping his distance from her, but she listened intently for the practically soundless footsteps. The only reason she could hear him was because it rained and made the little scratchy pebbles and dirt crunch under his feet ever so slightly.
“By scaring me,” she stated, still not looking at him.
He sighed. “M’sorry. I thought...” he trailed off. She didn’t make him finish his sentence. She thought too—he knew the stories of her, but he thought he would be different. They walked probably two tenths of a mile in silence. “M’sorry, love,” he repeated. “S’my first day. Didn’t want you t’get hurt.”
She sighed. He did sound remorseful. And she still kind of liked him. Mostly because as tragic as it sounded, he seemed to be more worried about her safety as a female walking dark streets and not a political official’s daughter. “It’s alright,” she mumbled. “I should have just asked,” she agreed a bit begrudgingly. “Just figured it was one drink and I’d be home before you left.”
He didn’t say anything. She stopped in her tracks. She could see the sign for the bar where her friends were down the long street before her. She turned to Harry. He looked relieved.
They gazed at each other a moment. Harry would be a worth adversary, she thought to herself. It was like he heard her thoughts because his next words almost tried to refute the idea. “I don’t like t’do paperwork,” he told her those pretty green eyes focused on her intently. He was serious. His jaw flexed tightly.
She smirked. “No promises.”
*
She spotted Harry at the end of the stairway, leaning against the wall as she exited the building where she had taken her exam. He had to be sweating in the suit slacks and button down—even if the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His left arm had several tattoos lining his arm while the right only had one or two. He wasn’t wearing a tie today nor a suit coat—she wanted to tell him she didn’t really give a shit what he wore, but he seemed the professional type. Being the middle of August, it was hot as could be. He didn’t seem to care, glancing every which way through a pair of black sunglasses. She couldn’t see his eyes and she suddenly realized she missed seeing the green even though she’d only gotten one good look at them.
Unfortunately, in all her ogling she missed the last two steps sending her straight into someone in front of her and she fell to the ground on the hot sidewalk, scraping her knee like a child. Fortunately, as a biochem major, she had to wear pants whenever setting foot in the lab so the yoga pants she wore—while hot for a summer day—probably saved her just a bit from a worse cut. It did cause a few tears in the fabric and her knee would surely bruise.
Harry started to rush over but the guy she bumped into helped her back to standing. “You okay there?” He asked.
Harry stood back a few feet as the guy helped. “Uh...yeah. Sorry, I missed the last step,” she said with a slight awkward laugh. She brushed the dirt from her hands that were also scraped as well as the length of her forearm since she was allowed to wear short sleeves (especially since it was exam day).
“Oh hey! You’re—” As soon as she realized he recognized her she closed her eyes and sighed.
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Sorry,” she hurried off, limping slightly as she realized she really smacked her knee and the way it scraped definitely made it sore to bend. She didn’t want to be recognized. She wanted to be herself and not have this political precursor follow her everywhere.
They were making their way back toward the SUV Harry had parked nearby when he had dropped her off this morning so she wouldn’t be late. Good luck he had called out when she closed the door behind her. “Are y’alright?” Harry’s accent was a few paces behind her. She felt embarrassed so she didn’t turn around. She nodded.
“Yeah. Just a scrape. Want to go home and take a nap in the AC.”
“Can’t argue with y’there,” he chuckled.
She smirked; glad he couldn’t see her. “You don’t have to wear a suit all the time,” she told him. “It’s a thousand degrees out. You’ll die of a heat stroke before you can protect me.”
He seemed to ignore her joke, but she was still a bit genuinely concerned he would overheat. “How was your exam?” He asked.
She turned finally and looked at him. He stopped short, still a few steps behind her. They probably looked odd beneath the shaded trees. Both dressed not for a summer day. Harry looked threatening, surprisingly. He didn’t when she saw him in her apartment or even when he walked her home at eleven last night. He looked like a regular guy even if he was overdressed in a half suit. She noted the gun in its holster on his hip and she wondered how good of a shot he was. Not because she thought he would be bad or because she thought he would ever need to shoot it in her presence but because she was genuinely curious about him. She still had her backpack on of course. Her knee bent slightly with a tear in her pants. Quite the pair.
His glasses were still covering his eyes, hiding probably the most assured way to understand what he was thinking. But despite all she thought about the DSS, Harry was nice. Even if it had only been the inside of 24 hours.
It was shame she was a bitch to her security detail.
“Uh...easy,” she said. “A lot of my friends complain about studying and it sucks, but obviously it was worth it,” she shrugged. “I only struggled with one long response question, and I knew that I would going into it,” she explained.
“S’good, m’happy for you,” a little smile twinged at his lips and he sounded so genuine. It surprised her. Like he was really taking an interest in her.
But then she remembered this was his job and he probably couldn’t give two shits about her or exam. She tilted her head and scanned the man before her as if that negative thought would reveal itself. Of course, it didn’t. The glasses were hiding his true emotions. She would have to figure out Harry later. It was too hot, even in the shade.
Silently she turned on her heel looking at the air-conditioned oasis of that SUV. Harry opened the door for her, something she was not used to before closing her neatly and safely inside. Once Harry opened his door she asked her question. “Can we get coffee?” She asked.
“Coffee?”
“My treat,” she smirked.
“I thought you wanted a nap?”
“Yeah, but I have to work later and if you drink coffee before a nap, the coffee will kick in right when you wake up.”
He tilted his head at her before he pulled into the road. “Didn’t know y’have a job.”
“It’s remote,” she shrugged.
“Oh.”
“So coffee?”
“If that’s what you want, love.”
Harry drove in silence to the closest coffee shop he could find, and she got out of the car quickly before stopping at the driver’s window. “Can I get you anything?” She asked kindly.
“Uh...an iced tea would be nice,” he said curiously.
She was not the bitch everyone made her out to be. “Sure,” she said and rushed inside. Harry kept the window rolled down and could see her perfectly through the window. It took no more than ten minutes, and she was back at the car handing him iced tea through his open window before she got into the car. Harry wasn’t really sure what to make of her. But he was sure that he liked her. She was funny. In her own sort of way. He watched her sip her drink as she settled back into the car.
It would be fun.
Protecting her.
“I could send you a picture if you’d like to stare at me longer,” she blinked in excess at him. Fluttering her pretty eyelashes as her quick witted tone pierced his thoughts.
Right?
--
general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach
Protection tag list: @youcouldstartacult
Please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :) If you would like for me to start a taglist for this series, please let me know as well!
#harry#harry styles#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles blurbs#harry styles blurb#harry styles reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harry styles au#harry styles one shot#harry styles concept#hs#hs fic#hs writing#one direction#one direction writing#bodyguard!Harry#agent!harry#protection
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WIP GAME
rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!
Tagged by: @luxurychristmaspudding
NP tags: @wannab-urs @morallyinept @swiftispunk @frannyzooey
My drafts are long and moving at a glacial rate! I have many! 😂 Feel free to ask about anything. These are NOT in a particular order,
Holiday (dieter x reader) after a scandal, dieter is banished to a remote mountain resort to dry out before next filming season and takes a liking to you, hotel staff. Will involve pegging and a good bit of degradation play/praise kink.
Bar fight (epilogue/short set in my Transplant universe. Joel x reader x Ezra) Ezra and Joel stand up for you when a new citizen in Jackson gets too handsy with you at the Tipsy Bison. Bar fight ensues.
Oceans (Ezra x Frankie, prospect/TF crossover) Ezra and Frankie are tasked with recovering stolen artefacts from a federal e protected dig site. Ezra get injured when the chopper gets hit and goes down. After a medical discharge, Frankie stays with him to convalesce. Coworkers to friends to lovers.
Little caution (Daddy!Joel x LittleBoy!Ezra x BabyBoy!Frankie, DSs and chastity play dynamics, poly dynamics) I don't have any excuse for this. If you read cock pit, you know where this is going.
Working theory (Javi Peña x Raylan Givens dincobb adjacent) While chasing a big narco fleeing from the States, Javier gets a new partner- some hotshot fuckin' redneck US Marshall from Kentucky who's been hot on the guy's trail til the border. Javier hates him implicitly. He looks damn good in that hat and those tight jeans, though.
Fricative (dieter x linguistic coach!reader) after his terrible slef- taught accent in Cliff Beasts 6, you're assigned to be Dieter's new linguistics coach. He's prone to... Positive reinforcement.
#joel miller#frankie morales#ezra (prospect)#javier peña#dieter bravo#wip game#wips#pedro pascal characters#fic wips#raylan givens#dincobb adjacent#the last of us#prospect (2018)#justified#the bubble#triple frontier
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Everyone's Running From Something
(ch. 5)
A Baldur's Gate 3 University Professor AU
Rating: M
Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.
💖Main Pairing : BloodWeave,(Astarion/Gale) 💕Side Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, Tav/Tav 💔Past Pairings: Gale/Mystra, Astarion/Sebastian, Astarion/Tav
<=Previous Chapter | Master List | Ao3 | Next Chapter =>
**Please see Master List Entry for Full Content Warnings**
⏰Chapter Warning⏰
Mentions of Child Abuse | Discussion of a Past Suicide Attempt | Implied Eating Disorder
The first day of class was overcast. Astarion woke up at 5:30 am and ran through his usual morning routine: make the bed, hot shower, work out- Mondays were endurance days: planks, crunches, lunges, and a 2-mile run-, cold shower, get dressed, morning coffee- one sugar, one stevia, no cream.
The mornings were when Astarion missed Lydia the most- not necessarily the banal domestic conversation, but the commotion of her in his house. Her inscrutable taste in music and the sound of her knocking around in the kitchen filled the void of silence in a far more alive way than the soft whisper-drone of NPR. It was also harder to fall back into old habits when someone else was there watching him.
His phone buzzed as he was finishing his coffee.
Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.
L: Hey, probably a stupid question.
Her name was still in his phone the way she’d saved it when they first met, as ‘Lydia 🖤😈’ and Astarion thought, as he did every time she reached out for something, that he should probably change that before the wrong person saw it.
L: Is there a purple and white cabochon earring lying around your bedroom somewhere?
L: The last time I can remember wearing them I ended up at yours.
Astarion picked up his phone and typed a reply.
A: I know I have one of your earrings in my car cupholder.
A: I keep meaning to get it back to you. I’ll send it along with Wyll if you’d like.
She replied a few minutes later.
L: Absolutely do not do that.
L: I’ll just run by your office
L: God.
L: You’re going to make the kids think I’m having an affair.
Astarion read the text and put his phone down, intending to end the conversation, but then something clicked in his mind.
A: Hey.
A: You worked at a DSS to put yourself through medical school, didn’t you?
L: ooOOOoo
L: You must REALLY need something if you’re willing to admit that sports medicine is real medicine😏😏😏
A: Answer the question, Silverwarden.
L: I did.
L: But I was an admin not a coordinator, so my knowledge is limited
L: You might be better off talking to Isobel
L: She’s very nice! I can introduce you if you’ve never met!
A: I’m an English professor, I’ve met the ADA coordinator.
A: I need your discretion.
A: Can you tell me why a student’s mental health deferment might get rejected?
L: Is this about Xenia?
L: It’ll be easier to explain if you call me.
Astarion checked his watch before he clicked on her contact information to call her. The phone rang a few times before she picked up. He heard a squawking toddler and the last snatch of her previous conversation: ‘…It’s just a student thing… Alright, see you tonight. I love you.’
“Hello, Mr. Goodman! Are you going to Vemo me a dollar, or shall I?” Lydia had an unhurried lilting voice, with a touch of a southern accent that made her swallow her ‘o’s and ‘t’s.
“What?”
“It’s a- never mind!” she huffed. “Have you consumed a single piece of media produced in this century? You fucking crypt keeper.”
“Sometimes I have to review Jenevelle’s assigned reading choices for appropriateness.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He could tell she was nodding the way she did when he missed her point. “‘And so I Anal Douche While Kesha’s ‘Praying’ Plays From My iPhone on Repeat,’ I remember. She scandalized half the football team with that one.”
“The American Football team could stand to get scandalized more,” Astarion replied. “How are your little brats doing?”
As if on cue, there was another toddler squeal in the background. “Ruby took her first steps last fall, and Clem’s learning how to crawl exceptionally early, but I suspect you don’t actually care.”
He didn’t dignify that with a response. “Why would the DSS reject Xenia’s deferment?”
“So that’s the thing: They wouldn’t. The DSS covers ADA accommodations for students with documented disabilities; a sudden injury would not be under their purview,” Lydia explained, putting on her lecture voice. “The decision to defer a student’s financial aid awards would go to the university’s finance board—I think? It may go to the board of directors.”
“That’s not what Raphael told me.” Astarion pressed his tongue against his canine until it started to sting.
“I know you're not going to like to hear this, but Raphael may genuinely not know,” and she was quite right; Astraion was going to be pissed if he found out he'd been bluffed into his current predicament. “Disability services is an incredibly complex field- both necessarily and unnecessarily so. It’s still pretty unusual for a student’s medical deferment to get rejected… Can I ask what your interest in this is?”
“I’ve found a channel to contest the decision, but I want to make sure it’s at least a somewhat viable option before I drag Xenia into more bureaucracy.”
“hmm… I knew you two would get along.” Lydia replied, quite satisfied with herself. “You have a very similar energy.”
Astarion sighed. He knew someone had referred Xenia to his sophomore survey class last semester; he'd just never figured out who. “I suppose we both have that ‘father used to beat me’ twinkle in our eyes.”
“Don’t put those words in my mouth!” Lydia exclaimed. “I meant you both have a similar…” She groped for the right words, “…surviverly quality about yourselves.”
“Will to survive?” Astarion corrected her.
“Whatever!” She snapped.
“Do you know why Xenia might have been rejected?”
“Speculatively?” Lydia asked.
“No, I’m asking you to read someone’s mind.” Astarion quipped.
“I answered your call in front of my husband for this, you know?”
Astarion sighed again. “If he’s not comfortable with you talking to your exes, he probably should not have married someone who fucked their coworker.”
“Do you want my help, or did you call me just to snipe?”
“Fine… please speculate. Why would someone’s medical deferment be rejected?”
“Well, if I had to guess… Xenia was sort of a high-profile get for the university. And given her history, I think it’s pretty safe to say that incident-” she paused as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say the next part. “-I think that incident last fall was probably a suicide attempt.”
There was a beat of grim silence. When the news came down, everyone had made that assumption, but no one was brave enough to put words to the thought.
Astarion hummed in acknowledgment. “So, you think the school rejected her medical deferment over bad publicity?”
“I think it would turn into a massive media circus if that got out, yes,” Lydia replied. “They may be trying to push her into dropping out.”
“Do you think it’s worth it to challenge?” Astarion asked.
“I don’t know,” Lydia sighed. “At the very least, it would probably be good to have as a precedent if she ends up having to sue the school… You could always just ask her what she wants to do. Poor kid might be too tired for all of this.”
“Fair.” Astarion pondered her words for a moment.
“Can I help you with anything else?” She asked.
“That’s all for now,” Astarion replied. “…Thank you, by the way. You don’t have to stick your neck out for me anymore, you know?”
“I know,” Lydia replied. “I did this because I wanted to. You’re still my friend -despite everything, I care about you.”
She hung up. Astarion’s phone screen went black. The house was silent again.
***
Gale got stuck in horrible traffic on his first day and ended up arriving 30 minutes late for his morning office hours. He skipped past dropping his lunch off in the breakroom fridge and rushed straight to the office, absolutely mortified that he was so late for his first proper day of class. He was so frazzled he had to double back to grab his coffee from the car.
It wasn’t like there would be anyone there waiting on him- a grand total of one student who knew who he was-, but it certainly made a bad impression to show up late on the first day of class.
Astarion was both bemused and incredibly entertained as he watched Gale flit around their office like a very flustered tornado, trying to cram one hour of planning into the thirty minutes he had remaining.
“You’re going to be fine.” Astarion had assured him. “It’s syllabus week, no one’s expecting Judith Buttler.”
Gale still left for his class 10 minutes early -just in case his classroom had teleported to a different dimension since he last visited it. It hadn’t. It turned out the room was exactly where he’d left it at the end of a strange little corridor in the library, and in fact, there were already two students waiting for him.
Xenia sat near the back of the classroom, wearing the facial expression of a kitten that was being petted too hard, as a pinch-faced, red-headed young woman combed her fingers through the knots in her hair.
“I can’t believe you’re not embarrassed to go out in public looking like this.” The pinch-faced woman scolded.
“It’s ha-ard to brush my hair with my non-dominant hand…” Xenia’s eyes bulged out of her head as the woman pulled her fingers through a particularly difficult knot.
“Chk. I’ll put it in a braid then, so you aren’t struggling to brush it.” She started dividing Xenia’s dark hair into sections no more gently than she’d detangled it.
“Hello Xenia, It’s good to see you again. How are you doing?” Gale asked as he set his satchel down behind the podium.
“Oh, I’ve been worse… I’ve also been better- Lae’zel, that hurts!” She squealed as the pinched-faced woman, Lae’zel apparently, tugged the braid tight.
“Then sit still so it will end faster.” Lae’zel scolded her. “I have younger siblings that squirm less than you, and they’re still in diapers.”
“I guess you’ll have to work on instilling more terror in my heart then,” Xenia replied. She gripped the edges of her desk with white knuckles as Lae’zel wrenched her head back.
Lae’zel hummed as if that was a legitimate suggestion. “Yes, I think we would have a much stronger working relationship if you feared me just a little more…”
Lae’zel finally let go of Xenia, who let out a breath like she’d narrowly avoided being hit by a bus as she pulled a few face-framing pieces from the clutches of her new French braid. Lae'zel turned her sights on Gale- though he desperately hoped it wasn't because she was planning on braiding his hair, too. “You must be the new English adjunct.”
“Yes, I’m Dr. Dekarios!” Gale replied. “You must be Lae’zel? The athletic director speaks very highly of you.”
“As he should.” Lae’zel nodded like he’d just given her the correct answer in an oral exam. “You should know that I designed to take this course this semester because I thought it would be taught by Dr. Ancunín rather than Dr. Shadowheart. I will be quite displeased with you if your teaching methods are as frivolous and unstructured as Shadowheart’s.”
Xenia’s eyes went wide, and her mouth formed a silent ‘Oh’ sound as she looked back and forth between Gale and Lae’zel.
“I can’t say that I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching Dr. Shadowheart teach, so I don't know how our teaching methods compare, but I will not deign to be frivolous or unstructured.” Gale laughed nervously.
“I think she is perfectly competent as a professor of literature, but she does quite poorly with the more structured elements of the genera. Dr. Ancunín does not fare much better, but he is preferable to Shadowheart.” Lae’zel explained as if Gale had genuinely asked her option. “You should know that thus far, you have not made a positive impression on me… you were quite late posting the syllabus.”
“My apologies, Lae’zel,” Gale replied, hand on heart. “I got let into my faculty account one week before the semester began.”
“Hm, yes.” Lae’zel considered his response. “This school does have abysmal technical support, so I shall let it slide this time.”
By that time, a few more students had filed in, and it was about time for class to start- or Gale was desperate not to hear any more unsolicited criticism of his colleagues. Astarion was right. The class went perfectly fine. He explained the structure of the course, and had everyone introduce themselves and state their major (he found out Xenia was there because she was a phycology major), before he explained the purpose of taking an upper level grammar and style.
“The purpose of learning advanced grammar is not to improve your everyday language… If the person you are talking to understands what you are saying, then there is nothing wrong with your grammar… Language should evolve to fit the speaker, the speaker should not evolve to fit the language… However, if you are going into a field like law or communication where you’ll be expected to use very precise language…”
It went by in a flash, and Gale could hardly remember if he got everything that he needed to into the lecture by the time class ended, but if anyone was unclear about anything, they didn’t let him know at the moment. He barely registers Xenia darting out of the room before he finishes saying, “Have a nice rest of your day.” A few people lingered to give him the heads up about things in their personal lives that might interfere with class, and one student wanted to know if he’d receive their letter of accommodation, but before long, there was a small congregation of people forming at the door waiting for Gale to leave so the next class can take over the space.
He walked back to his office with a spring in his step. He didn’t even mind that much when it started to pour rain, and he realized he had forgotten his umbrella in the car.
***
It wasn’t much dryer in the humanities building. Gale dodged around liner-less trash bins set up under bulging ceiling tiles dotting the hallway. In the break room, Karlach was holding a bookcase steady so Shadowheart could climb on top of it.
Gale paused and walked back to the breakroom to make sure he saw that right.
He did.
“Do you… need help with something?” he asked sheepishly.
“Nope, I think we’ve got it!” Karlach replied, ducking out of the way of one of Shadowheart’s heels. “Water pools in AC vents when it rains, so we have to bang on them a couple of times to make sure it doesn’t collapse.”
“O-oh?” Gale looked up and realized one of the panels of the overhead duct was swelling dangerously. “Shouldn’t we put in a work order?”
“Be my guest,” Shadowheart said. She precariously balanced on her knees, and Gale held his breath as the bookshelf wobbled underneath her. “But maintenance won’t get to it before the break room floods.”
She reached up and banged on the ductwork above her head, and the vent in the middle of the room started dribbling yellowish-brown water. Suddenly, there was a strange gurgling noise, then a thunk! as the panel popped back into proper shape.
“Great work, Jen!” Karlach whooped, holding out a hand to help Shadowheart jump down. They high-fived, and Shadowheart went about smoothing out her clothes, grumbling under her breath when she realized there was a massive run in her tights.
“This kind of thing happen often?” Gale asked.
“Only when it rains!” Karlach chirped. She checked her watch and immediately started towards the door. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to get to my day job.” She gave Gale a friendly pat on the shoulder as she passed him. “If the vents start to flood again, it’s your and fancy pants’ turn to fix it!”
“I don’t know if that bookshelf will support either of our weights…” Gale balked.
“Not with that attitude, soldier!” Karlach called as the stairwell door swung closed behind her.
“You can poke it with a handle broom until it corrects; it just takes longer,” Shadowheart assured him. “I’ve got to go switch tights before I get to my next class. I don’t know if you’ve had the displeasure of meeting her yet, but God forbid Lae’zel catches me with a run in my pantyhose.”
“Oh, so she does talk like that to your face then?” Gale replied. “I didn’t know if I should-”
“Talks like what- never mind, don’t tell me!” Shadowheart huffed. “I swear, after everything I’ve done for that girl- I’ll talk to you later!” She turned on her heels and followed Karlach up the stairs.
Gale sighed in relief, ready to hold up in his office for a little while. He reached into the front pocket of his satchel for his keys only to find it empty. Cursing under his breath, he thumbed through the things in the main pocket, hoping he’d accidentally mixed them in with everything else- nothing. Finally, he pulled out his phone only to find a series of texts from Astarion.
A: You left your keys.
Then, a little while later.
A: I’m going to be out of office when you get back.
A: Ask Mizora on the second floor for the spare key, good luck.
#bg3#bg3 fanfiction#bloodweave#bg3 astarion#bg3 gale#bg3 shadowheart#bg3 karlach#bg3 tav#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate au#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#astarion#astarion ancunin#mat-write#bg3 professor AU#ao3 fanfic#ao3 link#shadowheart#karlach cliffgate#bg3 dark urge#OC: Xenia Bellona#OC: Lydia Silverwarden#bg3 lae'zel#lae'zel#professor dekarios
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Hey there :) I've been wondering about the differences, similarities and any other links between ASD and childhood emotional neglect. I thought you might be able to help? Thanks in advance!
Hi there,
there have been a few studies about this, so I’m going to leave some excerpts down below. They’re a bit long, so I apologize in advance:
The few studies that had been done offered mixed results. Some suggested that children with autism are more likely than their typical peers to be neglected or abused, and more likely to be involved with child protective services, the state departments in the United States tasked with overseeing children’s well-being. Others did not show an association between autism and an elevated risk of abuse, although the studies had limitations — including being small or using outdated definitions of autism.
McDonnell and her colleagues decided to investigate the link and tapped into autism surveillance data, as well as records from the South Carolina Department of Social Services. They compared patterns of abuse and neglect for nearly 5,000 children with and without autism born from 1992 to 1998. They found that nearly one in five autistic children in the state, and one in three with both autism and intellectual disability, have been reported to be maltreated. Even after adjusting for factors such as low family income and limited parental education, children with autism remain up to three times as likely as their neurotypical peers to experience maltreatment, the team reported in 2018. “We were alarmed by those numbers and how high they were,” McDonnell says.
Neglect in particular is a problem for children with autism, as well as for those with intellectual disability. Neglect is the most common type of maltreatment documented by child protective services, says Kristen Seay, assistant professor of social work at the University of South Carolina in Columbia. Exacerbating the problem is the fact that children with autism often have needs that families with few resources may find difficult to meet.
Autism Forum:
Autism Study:
Method:
Using record linkage between the Department of Social Services (DSS) and the Autism and Developmental Disabilities Monitoring (ADDM) network, this study compares the prevalence and characteristics of maltreatment among children with ASD-only (n = 316), ASD and comorbid ID (ASD+ID; n = 291), ID-only (n = 1,280), and controls (n = 3,101). Behavioral correlates of maltreatment are examined.
Results:
Controlling for demographic factors, this study found significantly higher odds of reported and substantiated maltreatment among children with ASD-only (odds ratio = 1.86 for reported, 1.51 for substantiated), ASD+ID (odds ratio = 2.35 for reported, 1.97 for substantiated), and ID-only (odds ratio = 2.45 for reported, 2.49 for substantiated) relative to a population control group, with large effects. In particular, children with ASD+ID and ID-only were between two and three times more likely to experience maltreatment. All groups were more likely to experience physical neglect, and children in the ASD+ID and ID-only groups were more likely to experience all forms of abuse. Children in the ASD-only group were more likely to experience physical abuse. Maltreated children in the ASD-only and ID-only groups experienced more cases of physical abuse and neglect, and were victimized by more perpetrators compared to other maltreated youth. Maltreatment was associated with higher likelihood of aggression, hyperactivity, and tantrums for children with ASD.
Conclusion:
Children with ASD and/or ID are at heightened risk for maltreatment. Empirically-supported assessment and intervention approaches for identifying and addressing traumatic stress related to maltreatment in ASD are urgently needed.
I hope some of these sources can help. Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ❤️
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Mini-Royal Affairs 3: Lunch With The Enemy
In front of an army, a cloaked figure with a strange necklace reminiscent of the Sapphire Crystal laughed maniacally. His attention focused on the two hologram figures between him and his forces.
“I’m lord Dis-Erai,” The cloaked figure began. “The High Priest of the Cult of Chaos. Our order pays tribute to Chaos, the supreme being of disorder. We…
SLURP!
Dis-Erai stopped hsi speech and studied the holograms in front of him. The forms of King Endymion and Neo-Queen Serenity were sitting in chairs, holding bowls of ramen. As the Queen finished slurping up a strand of noodles she noticed Dss-Erai glaring at her which caused her to blush.
“My apologies,” Serenity insisted, putting her chopsticks down to wipe her mouth with her napkin. “You caught us during lunch. Please, continue.”
“I see,” Dis-Erai grumbled, clearing his throat. “It is the goal of our order to spread the word of Chaos throughout the known universe and seek vengeance against you, Neo-Queen the being who banished Chaos to the Galactic Caulton. We shall…”
“Endymion,” Serenity whined, presenting her husband her bowl. “There are carrots in my ramen.”
“You had carrots in it last time,” Endymion reminded her. “You said they weren’t that bad. I thought you finally developed a taste for them.”
“Carrots, blah, never,” Serenity grimaced, shaking her head. “THat was like a few carrots. THis is an entire side of them.”
“Fine,” Endymion shrugged, using his chopsticks to pick out the carrots. “I'll take them.”
“Do you mind?” Dis-Era roared, clenching his fists. “I am in the middle of my declaration of war.”
“Our apologies,” Endymion replied, eating some of the carrots. “Continue.”
“As I was saying,” Dis-Erai hissed. “We shall rain divine justice across your world in the name of the God of absolute destruction. Our vengeance will be swift and merciless. THe streets of your precious kingdom will run red with the blood of your citizens. You…”
“Huh,” Endymion announced, staring down at his ramen. “Is it just me or does the pork taste different?”
“You know I wasn’t going to say anything because it tasted so good but it does,” Serenity commented, picking up a piece of pork, studying it, before putting it back in the bowl “Is it from our usual place?”
“Yes,” Endymion confirmed with a nod. “Usual place, usual order…minus the carrots. Sorry by the way. Guess they decided to try something new.”
“I guess,” Serenity agreed.
“The real question is do we ask for this pork or what they used previously,” Endymion pondered, rubbing his chin while still holding his chopsticks.
“Excuse me!” Dis-Erai screamed, stomping is foot. “I am declaring war on your plaet. Could you ave talking abour lunch until i finish?”
‘Your right, your right,” Endymion agreed with a wave of his chopsticks. “You still ahve the floor.”
“Thank you,” Dis-Erai sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Where was I?”
“The stress will run red with blood,” Serenity answered as she nippled on her narutomaki.
“Right, right,” Dis-Erai nodded, straightening his hood. “As I was saying…you who defeated the mighty chaos will face the wrath of their followers. You will know true fear and will beg for mercy but will receive none. However I shall give you one chance. Current yourselves and we MAY choose to spear your planet.”
“Yeah…I think we’ll pass,” Serenity stated, bringing the bowl to her lips to drink the broth.
“What?” Dis-Era gasped. Did you not hear what I said? I have forces that…”
“Your forces are about to be defeated,” Endymion chuckled as he should the last of his ramen into his mouth. “We have a strike team descending on you as we speak.”
Dis-Erai’s jaw dropped as he struggled to speak.
“You see,” Endymion continued. “The whole time you have been talking to use we’ve been tracing the signal to triangulate your location.”
“SUPREME THUNDER!”
“WORLD SHAKING!”
“OH look, there they are now,” Endymion observed, seeing the fear in Dis-Erai’s face. “If I were you…I’d run.”
Dis-Erai followed the King’s advice, exiting the chamber, and leaving his forces alone to the mercy of the force from Crystal Tokyo and the holograms of the royal couple.
“Again,” Endymion began. “Sorry about the carrots.”
“It’s okay love,” Serenity smiled at your husband. “Just remember…the only carrot I like doesn’t fit in a ramen bowl.”
The King’s cheeks turned red as he caught the Queen’s meaning. He reached over, hit a button, and turned off the holographic message.
#sailor moon#sailor moon fanfiction#sailormoon#pretty guardian sailor moon#bishoujo senshi sailor moon#usagi x mamoru#mamoru x usagi#pretty soldier sailor moon#king endymion#neo queen serenity#King Endymion X Neo Queen Serenity#Neo Queen Serenity X King Endymion
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Just a quick fun little Torchwood AU that I put no thought into!!! /s (these ideas have not left me alone and I have thought about this extensively and in detail)
If you're unfamiliar with Torchwood, it's a spinoff show from Doctor Who about an organisation on Earth who monitor and sometimes combat extra terrestrial activity. Think MI5 but with aliens.
- it's in the modern era
- Lucy and Felix are Torchwood too
- the rift is under London now
- so everything happens canonically, like Daisy and Hazel still experience and solve all the murders, Daisy still dies at the end of DSS
- and she like ACTUALLY dies. She drowns
- Felix is understandably Devastated, and goes to make some Unwise Decisions
- these involve ripping someone from the past through the rift and then putting their unlived energy from their time period into Daisy to revive her
- the person he takes from the past is from the 1930s. Guess who it is. It's Aleks!!!
- Felix pulls him through because he was reported missing, but noone was looking for him (sorry Aleks) and so Felix figures it's ok to pull him through
- (it gets a bit paradoxical because the only reason Aleks is reported missing in the first place is because Felix pulls him through the rift)
- Daisy and Aleks are now like. Lowkey connected because of this
- for example if Aleks died Daisy would too and sometimes they hear a very brief glimpse of the other's thoughts
- anyway Hazel and George saw Daisy die, like her body and everything, including in the morgue
- when Daisy comes back Hazel doesn't take it well, understandably, thinks she's fake and not the 'real Daisy'
- so they retcon her (which means they give her an amnesia pill) and leave her to grieve
- George is slightly more on board with everything and so gets to remember Daisy, but this makes him and Hazel drift apart because she can't understand why he doesn't seem as sad as her
- fast forward to when they're all adults (like 20ish)
- Daisy, George and Aleks are working at Torchwood, they were recruited
- Hazel's just out living her life, but she's a bit lonely, so Kitty drags her to a bar one night
- at the same time, Aleks is deemed to have learned enough about the 21st century to go out on his own, George encourages him to go to a bar and socialise
- Hazel and Aleks meet and really like each other, they fall in love blah blah blah
- George and Daisy (especially Daisy) are losing their mind over the fact Aleks has managed to fall in love with their old best friend
- Hazel and Aleks get all domestic, move in together, but she gets suspicious at the fact he's always out at odd hours
- she tails him one day and is completely shocked to see him and George at an alien ship crash site or something like that
- she tails them and ends up at the ✨Torchwood base✨
- she sees Daisy and is like 'hey! What the fuck!' but deals with it better this time
- Hazel feels so guilty that she didn't believe Daisy all those years ago
- anyway everything is explained, Hazel gets recruited, joins the team (she's still completely pissed at absolutely everyone for lying to her but moving on)
- ok so that's the backstory
- they solve and sometimes create alien shenanigans
- they find out that Hazel has this weird energy around her that draws in murder to her
- the murders would have still happened regardless but some universe energy is always creating opportunities for her to be there
- Daisy is a little jealous of this
- Hazel and Daisy actually solving the murders is just something they happen to do because they're good at it
- none of them are monogamous
- Daisy is a trans woman, and an aromantic lesbian, she/her
- George just uses the label queer for gender and sexuality, pronouns change on the regular, depending on his mood
- Aleks is still figuring shit out because he's from the 1930s but definitely thinks boys and girls are attractive. He/him but George explained pronouns to him and he got excited when he realised people could use she/her for him but he's left that for another day
- Hazel is a nonbinary girl, uses she/they and is bisexual
- they're all like slightly in love with each other in the sense that noone else has seen what they've seen, and they've been through shit together. They'll always always have each others' backs
#ME catering for ME#mmu#torchwood#murder most unladylike#robin stevens#daisy wells#hazel wong#alexander arcady#george mukherjee
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Since when did you start loving Luiasy?
That, is a good question! This is quite a funny story to me. I need to even backtrack a bit for this, haha.
For a long time since I was a kid, I of course casually loved Nintendo and the Mario Universe. It mostly began full swing when I first got my Nintendo DS Lite in 2010 I think.
I did have a particular set of favourite characters I grew up with. Daisy was one of them. I remember first learning about her in Mario Kart Ds. She was the opposite of Peach to me. And funnily enough, she would always be ‘second pick’ when I play games. Peach always being first haha.
I wasn’t too vocal about my fan status. Although, I did have a family-friend group who all had DSs and Wiis back then, so I pretty much bonded over with them.
Then many years later. Cue the 2023. I grew up. Interests changed. But I’ve been Drawing and posting online since 2012, so I was still in touch with game/Anime fandoms.
What The 2023 Super Mario Bros Movie did, was basically reignited memories I had that I had so much fun with. I literally couldn’t get over how much I loved it! The music, the references, callbacks and characters. Months later, and I am still into this fandom. It gave me so much hope in there being more of the Nintendo Mario world to be brought to life.
I then learnt about Daisy’s game history, how she was lesser known, then got a revamp to what we all knew today. Which in turn? Gave me inspiration and reminded me of my love for Daisy again. I feel like I like her character a lot more, since ever since the movie, I saw so much potential on how she could be seen as. Even more so, when I found out how little we know of her land and history. She, and a few characters was someone who I SO hope to see if there is a future sequel! Fingers crossed!
So! Sorry for the long story. But that’s how it was!
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Europe tour...still no Asia
I was planning to translate the wowow interview special, but now I feel like I've lost my motivation.
What's the point of spending time translating this if I can't go to their live shows, not even once?
Seven years ago I missed mode of DSS in Taipei because I was just a high school student. Three years ago, I finally learned Japanese by myself and saved money. I planned to go to Japan before graduating from university, but the epidemic started and all that was lost. Now I have no money and no vacation to go abroad.
I don't dare to have expectations anymore, I'm afraid I can't bear another disappointment.
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Mar[r]y Me - part 8.5.2
pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)
summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.
series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, like soooo much flirting, warnings to be added as needed
word count: 3.6k
previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist
note: happy Friday! I hope everyone had lovely holidays and 2024 is going well for you so far! I did have some issues tagging people so apologizes if you didn't notified! I really loved writing this chapter, especially since it's going to help set the stage for the rest of the story! (only 4 more parts to go! isn't that crazy??) please be safe if you have snow coming towards you this weekend, and enjoy these two pining and yearning for each other more than ever.
part 8.5.2 - rambling and rings
Friday, April 16, 2021
Mary waves at the obnoxiously large SUV as Slider honks and drives away. Leaning against the entryway table, she slips her heels off and wiggles her painted toes at the feeling of the soft runner beneath her feet. Shuffling over to the entertainment console, she hums as she connects her phone, choosing the song that was on in the car.
The dreamy guitar intro floats through the air, making her smile. And the last beams of golden sunshine disappear as she dances through the living room, enjoying the peaceful feeling that’s settled in her chest and closing the blinds in between twirls.
Good things are happening at work, rumbles that there’s a promotion coming on the horizon. The monthly call back home to her parents hadn’t ended in tears for the first time in months. Most of her evenings are spent in the company of at least one Dagger family member, helping Kris and Dani with their kids or enjoying the adult-only life with Aaron and Flora. Bradley is messaging her as often as he can, every email making her heart flutter, increasing her joy with every sentence he types.
Everything is coming together in ways she had never even dared to dream about.
An early dinner with Ron, Mav, and Penny was the cherry on top of a great week. The four of them laughing and telling stories the entire time, taking advantage of the warm spring weather at the patio table Pete had reserved for Slider’s birthday. As stories and photos were traded across the table, Mary felt like her heart could burst learning about baby Bradley. The only quiet moment of the evening was when their waiter brought an unordered round of drinks to the table, prompting the men to venture inside and thank the old Navy buddy that had spotted them through the window.
“Thank you, Matt; it was getting just a tiny bit too windy for us.”
“No problem, ma’am.” The young man smiles over his shoulder as he finishes turning the outdoor heater on. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”
“I think we’re good for now, thank you,” Penny answers, glancing at Mary, softening at the sight of the younger woman lost in thought as she stares out at the ocean with a content smile.
She watches as brown eyes drift from the water to the table, gentle fingers tracing over a copy of a photo that’s older than the girl studying it. Penny stays quiet, letting the sound of waves crashing on the sand accompany the slight furrow that creases Mary’s brow as she brings the photo closer to her face.
“He looks just like his dad, doesn’t he?”
“He does; he acts a lot like him, too, more than he realizes.”
“You knew him?” It’s not a surprised reaction, just curious.
Penny hums, “We weren’t close, but I knew him enough to see how much Bradley has turned out like him. He’s a good blend of both his parents.”
“Did you know Carole very well?”
“More than Nick, by default, but for the most part, we were at different stages in life. She was older than me by a few years. I was in college and she was a widow raising a toddler. But, as you know, the aviator community is pretty small, so we were friendly. I would even babysit Bradley sometimes when the guys were deployed.”
“He was a cute baby,” Mary says softly, eyes back on the last photo taken of the whole Bradshaw family.
“He was… turned out to be a handsome man, didn’t he?” Penny asks, taking advantage of the moment.
She smirks as the younger woman looks up at her through her lashes, a shy smile stretching her pink cheeks. “He did.”
“Can I ask you something while they’re still inside?”
“We’re not together. But we are going on a date the week after he gets back.” Now it’s Mary’s turn to smirk at how Penny’s eyebrows rocket up to her hairline. “That is what you were going to ask me, right?”
“It’s close enough. Are you excited?”
“I am. I really like him.”
It’s the first time she admitted it out loud to anyone other than her best friend. She revels in the encouraging energy and words Penny gives back, both of them still giggling like school girls when Pete and Ron return.
“What are you two laughing about?” Slider asks as he slips Mary’s wrap over her shoulders.
“Oh, nothing.” When Penny winks, she has the overwhelming urge to cry. The knowing look accompanying those two words is more affectionate and maternal than anything her mother has done in years.
Their hug goodbye lasts a few seconds longer than expected, and the gentle hands that smooth some stray hairs back make her throat tighten. Slider is quiet on the ride home; familiar with the many moods of Mary, he lets her work through her thoughts with the radio on low.
“Y’okay, kid?” He doesn’t speak until he pulls into her neighborhood, giving himself a five-block buffer to determine if a pit stop to the closest ice cream shop is required.
“Yeah. Just-” Mary pauses, trying to figure out how to best explain. “Just still getting used to it.”
“To what?”
“To how easy it is to just be me out here. Surrounded by people who have just folded me into their lives with zero hesitation, like I’ve always been here.”
“Mary, were you happy in Florida?”
“I was content. Getting to know you helped with that a lot, but let’s face it; if I was happy, I wouldn’t have been so excited to leave.”
“And you’re happy now?”
“I am. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”
It's a cheesy line, but true. She knew that when she said it, accepting the light teasing that followed with a smile. One that hadn’t left her face as she said goodbye to her mentor, one that grows as the song starts again. She can’t help how big her grin gets. This song always reminds her of Bradley.
“I'm in love, I'm alive. I belong to the stars and sky.”
Letting the song stay on repeat, Mary stops in the kitchen for some water on her way to the bedroom. It’s still early - not even eight yet - but a full night’s sleep is calling her name, eyelids feeling heavy.
She slips her clothes off, folding the jeans for tomorrow and tossing her shirt in the laundry. A small groan of relief accompanies the unclasping of her bra before she slings it into the hamper. Turning the bedroom speakers down slightly as she enters the bathroom, a grimace instantly creases her face when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.
“Jesus…” Her disbelief echoes in the room as gentle fingers rub over the harsh red lines where her clothes dug into her skin. It’s evident where the waistband of her jeans sat all day. And the tender spots under her arms lets her know it’s time to look for better-fitting bras, again. Mary tugs the leg of her panties up, relieved to see at least one piece of clothing hasn’t left its mark.
She’s massaging the sore spots on her chest, letting her warm hands diminish the pain, when her phone rings. Her eyebrows furrow deeper at the unknown number flashing across the screen.
Usually, at this time of night, she’d ignore an unknown number and let the other person leave a voicemail, but something in her gut tells her to pick up before it’s too late.
“Hello?” There’s a muffled response, and she scrambles to disconnect her phone from the speakers. “Hello? Can you hear me?”
“Hello, ma’am. Can I speak to Mariella Vertucci?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Lieutenant Corso in the communications bay on the USS Roosevelt. Can you confirm your identity with your full name, birthday, and the eight-digit code given to you by Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”
Mary’s heart stops for a second. This is it. Bradley is calling. She’s going to get to talk to him after forty-eight days. Hear his voice. See his face.
“Ma’am?”
“Sorry. Mariella Theresa Vertucci, born March 14, 1987. The code is 0125-2020.”
“Thank you, ma’am. One minute, please.” The soft clacking of a keyboard filters through the phone, the Lieutenant's tongue clicking as he types. “You’ve been verified. Does the phone you’re using have video chat capabilities.”
“It does, Lieutenant.”
“Excellent. Stay on the line, and in a few minutes, a video chat will come through with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. You have been allotted 30 minutes today. I am required to remind you that communication is not secure. This means, for security purposes, you cannot ask what time of day it is, what location, or how any missions have gone. Please confirm that you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you. I am also required to let you know that this video chat is conducted in a private area and will not be monitored. However, the audio will be recorded, so any lewd acts are discouraged but not forbidden.”
Mary can’t help the snort that escapes. “But not forbidden?”
“Uh- the uh-” She smothers a chuckle at how the kid trips over his words. “The Navy understands that loved ones are apart for long periods of time and can’t forbid any uh- urges that couples may wish to act upon during their chats. But we are legally required to inform everyone of the recording.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“No problem, ma’am. Please stay on the line, and your loved one will be joining shortly.” She giggles at how quickly the hold music starts, humming along to Anchors Aweigh as she clips her hair up, ready to take her makeup off. She’s about to wet a washcloth when the music cuts, and the video call comes through.
Taking a second to look herself over, Mary admires the tendrils that have escaped, perfectly framing her cheeks that are still flushed from the wine she had with dinner. The slightest bit still tipsy and a little frazzled about Bradley, she realizes just in time that she’s still only in her underwear, hitting the accept button and dropping the phone on the counter.
“One second! Just- oh, come on! Fuck!” She curses under her breath as she struggles to slip into her bathrobe. “Hang on, Bradley!”
Finally getting both arms in, she ties the robe, eyebrows raising in surprise at how it cinches her waist, before eagerly grabbing her phone.
“Hi, Mary.”
“Hi, Bradley.”
She greedily drinks him in. It’s been 48 days since she’s seen his handsome face or heard his warm voice - the longest since they met - and she’s missed him. Her heart clenches at how tired he looks, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than ever.
“Hi, honey.” The sweet name hits something deep inside, and she can’t help the tears that immediately form or the way her bottom lip wobbles. “Oh, shit, Mary. Please don’t cry, honey.”
The emotional reaction surprises even her; she was expecting to be a bit overwhelmed, but nothing like this. It makes her feel a little ridiculous, crying about a man she’s barely even kissed. But you love him, her brain chimes in, sending more heat to her face.
“This is your uncle’s fault!” She laughs, swiping tears away and propping her phone against the mirror.
“Mav?”
She can’t help but giggle at his disbelieving tone as she reaches for a tissue. “No, Slider. He’s in town this week, and he may or may not - but definitely did - get me tipsy at dinner, like he always does!”
She trills on about dinner, telling him about the childhood stories that were shared and the baby photos that now live on her phone, not noticing the look on his face until he interrupts.
“You getting in the shower, Mary?”
The husky tone immediately grabs all of her attention, a shiver running down her spine at the smoldering look on Bradley’s face. She follows his eyes down, surprised to see how much her robe has come undone. The valley between her breasts is completely visible, and the fabric is threatening to expose her belly button - and more - if it’s not fixed.
“Oops…” She mumbles to herself, tightening the robe so much it pushes her cleavage together.
Normally, this is where her insecurities would ruin the moment - flooding her brain with terrible things. Make her spend the rest of the call analyzing how she looks in the tiny corner box, agonizing how prominent her double chin is from this angle. But the soft fuck that crackles through the phone squashes the anxieties before they can take root, shifting her attention to admire the man looking back at her.
And god, he is a man.
Bradley Bradshaw has always been gorgeous: tall, strong, and deliciously tan. But mid-deployment Bradley Bradshaw is a vicious attack to the senses. And the hormones.
His broad shoulders have gotten broader, filling the little privacy cubicle in the communications room so much that he’s brushing both sides of the walls. His curls are more golden than usual, clear evidence of time spent flying in the Pacific tropics. His tan is deeper, too, glowing even in the harsh florescent lighting, the bridge of his nose slightly sunburnt. His neatly trimmed mustache moves with his lush pink lips, warmth building in her core as her thoughts drift to the memory of how they felt pressed against hers.
“Mary?” She hums, eyes focusing back into the present and away from her favorite post-deployment reunion fantasy. “Whatcha thinking about?”
“You.”
It's clear he wasn’t expecting that answer from the way he drags a hand over his mouth to muffle a cruse, his eyes scrunching shut.
She wasn’t expecting it either; the effects of the wine have mostly worn off, leaving her with flushed cheeks and apparently a slightly looser tongue. She can’t bring herself to be embarrassed about the overly honest answer. Communicating exclusively via email for the last month and a half has allowed Mary to gain confidence in Bradley’s feelings. It’s hard to wonder about his intentions when every email ends with him telling her how many days are left until he’s home.
“Your lips…” She continues, emboldened as the last remnants of wine soften the sharp edges of her insecurities and the pink working its way up his neck. She loves how easily Bradley blushes for her. Their few kisses have always ended with his cheeks a lovely, rosy shade. “How soft your hair is. Your mustache. How strong you are. How much I miss you…”
The words make them both pause. It’s not an uncommon phrase, every email containing some variation of the sentiment, but hearing the words out loud makes it real. Cementing the longing in their chests.
“I miss you, too.” The words are quiet, echoing against the tiled walls. She chuckles, throat thick with emotion, and Bradley can’t look away from her soft smile. His heart pounding at the emotion on her face, something he can’t quite place. He can’t stop staring as she picks the phone up and flicks the light off, “Where are we going?”
“Couch.”
He smiles as the familiar walls of her living room appear, grin going slack when she props him up on the side table, and the slit of her robe reveals a thigh that he’s dreamt about as she shuffles pillows. Bradley manages to pull his mind out of his post-deployment fantasy as she plops on her couch - that damn pink couch - and smiles at him over the arm, her eyes almost closing she grins so hard.
“I’m sorry I missed our call.”
“It’s okay, Bradley. I knew it was a possibility, and Mav let me know what was going on. I understand.”
“I want to hear about your birthday.”
“I told you about my birthday! We’ve discussed it extensively.”
“I still want to hear about it. I want to hear your voice.” He revels as she softly whines and smooshes her face into a pillow, thrilled to cause that reaction. “C’mon, please, Mary?”
“You’re not fighting fair.” The muffled complaint comes back, making him laugh, but she does as asked.
Bradley listens, humming along as she recounts her birthday for him and insisting for the hundredth time that it was his pleasure to give her presents. He lets her lead the conversation as it shifts to what’s happening in San Diego, content to watch her as she shares stories of what he’s missing at home. Happy to just admire her and occasionally ask questions.
It’s so easy to get lost looking at her. Dark hair swishing around her shoulders, just slightly shorter than it was in February. Her brown eyes look darker than usual, the low light in the room making them almost black instead of the warm brown he’s used to staring into. And despite resecuring the robe, it’s coming loose again, enough that the top curve of her breasts are visible; freckles dotted all over, disappearing beneath the baby blue fabric. Bradley thinks about what it would be like to connect the dots on her soft skin, tracing invisible lines with his fingers or lips. He imagines there’s more hiding behind the waffle material. He wonders if she’d let him find out.
The fantasy of how wonderful it would be to memorize every mark on her body is interrupted as red nail polish grabs his attention. He loves her hands, smaller than his but so strong when she’s working on a jet. Steady as she calls out instructions to her team, grease smeared up to her elbows and her nail color of the week shining through the black sludge. Mary insists that she doesn’t talk with her hands, that she managed to avoid that stereotypical Italian-American trait, but Bradley smirks as her hands swirl through the air. He’s about to interrupt the story she’s giggling through - something about the latest swear word that Danielle accidentally taught Annie - when something sparkly on her finger distracts him.
A ring.
A diamond ring.
A simple silver band lined with tiny diamonds.
On her ring finger.
On her left ring finger.
His eyebrows furrow as he tries to study the never-before-seen piece of jewelry. Mary must notice his confusion because she cuts her story off and flashes her hand at the camera. “I bought this for myself when I got promoted for the first time. I went from EI to EII, which is entry-level engineer to associate engineer. It was $50 from this little shop that was on the same block as my first solo apartment in St. Louis.”
Relief sweeps through his body, thrilled that Mary hadn’t gotten engaged with him.
“That’s awesome. Have you done that every time you’ve moved up?”
“Kinda? I always buy myself some sort of gift - last time, I splurged and got that big blender we used at the Christmas party. But I’ve only done jewelry a few times. I think I’m going to get a necklace next time, something to match this.” She explains, wiggling her fingers so the gems shimmer in the camera.
“It’s very pretty.” Bradley compliments, feeling bold enough to go further. “You look good with a ring on that finger.”
“Jesus, Brad-”
She’s cut off by the two-minute alert popping up. They had been so distracted they weren’t paying attention to the countdown timer.
“Already?” Mary pouts, forehead crinkling as she frowns. “But I didn’t get to ask you about carrier food.
“It’s bad, honey. Yours is so much better.”
“Or how you’re sleeping.”
“Reuben’s snoring has somehow gotten even louder since last time we shared a bunkroom; Bob, Mickey, and I owe you for the extra earplugs you sent.”
“You’re sunburnt.”
“I’m wearing the sunscreen you gave me; the sun is just strong.”
“I knew I should have sent the SPF 75!” Bradley smiles as Mary throws her head back in faux despair. “Oh well, now I know for next time, I guess.”
“Next time?”
“Yeah. You didn’t think I’d only send you a care package one time, did you? I gotta make sure you have everything you need. I know I missed some stuff this time, but I’ll get better in the future! I promise.”
I love you.
He just barely holds the words in.
“God, I fucking miss you.” He stares at the screen, watching the prettiest brown eyes in the world fill with tears at his words. “Oh, honey, please don’t cry. I’ll be home so soon.”
“But twenty-four days is such a long time, and I miss you so much.”
“I know, but we’ve already done 48 days. Twenty-four will be a breeze to get through.” The timer starts blinking, the last 60 seconds counting down. “I gotta get going, Mary. But you keep sending me flirty emails so I have something to read and think about.”
He chuckles at the little surprised noise she makes. “You noticed that?”
“Did I notice that? Mariella, in the kindest way, you are not subtle.”
“Well- I-” She splutters. “Neither are you!”
“I’m not trying to be, baby doll,” Bradley revels in her reaction to the pet name - mouth dropping open as she blinks at him, cheeks pinker than he’s ever seen - one he didn’t even mean to use.
The flustered hand she waves at the camera while yelling at him makes him laugh. “Bradley!”
“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Be safe. Only 24 days.”
“Only 24 days.”
“I miss you, handsome.”
Bradley's face feels hot, choked up at the look in her eyes, the softness of her words. “I miss you, too, baby doll.”
They don’t say goodbye, choosing to admire each other as the final seconds tick away.
5…
I can’t wait to see you in person.
4…
God, you’re so gorgeous.
3…
I don’t want to hang up.
2…
I miss you.
1…
I love you.
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Sweet Professor
Originally published: Dec. 30th, 2022
This is Mr. Elion Amador, a wolf and teacher at St. Arcania University. specifically, he runs the DSS class, helping those with problems keeping up in class with home work. He enjoys being around his students, as he helps them learn more things about both themselves, and their subjects.
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Fictober 01 - "It's not too late, let's go." - DSS/Peggy
Fandom: Marvel's What If...?
Rating: T
Warnings: None
Never Too Late (AO3)
“It’s not too late, let’s go,” Peggy insisted.
“You’re sure?” Stephen asked. They had just gotten back to their apartment after saving the universe once again, both of them still covered in ichor.
She grinned at him. “After we clean up, of course. Date Night is important. Nat is babysitting Donna until tomorrow morning, after all.”
He had to smile at the mention of their six-month-old daughter, named in honor of her late aunt. “Alright. Allow me.” He raised a hand to use magic to clean them up but Peggy gently grabbed his hand.
“We have enough time to get clean the conventional way,” she said, then she smirked. “That is, if we shower together.”
Stephen smirked. “I need no further persuasion, Captain Strange.”
His wife’s response was to kiss him then lead him to the master suite.
One invigorating shower later, they were in a cab on the way to the restaurant.
“I can’t get over our little miracle,” Stephen said softly, awed. “After everything I put my body through, I shouldn’t have been able to father a child.”
“You assumed too much, that’s all,” Peggy reassured him, and not for the first time. “From everything you’ve told me, I honestly think one of the purposes of magic is to preserve life, and that apparently includes sperm and egg cells. We could give Donna siblings, if we wanted.”
He chuckled. “Has someone caught baby fever again already?”
“I don’t mean right now,” Peggy said, rolling her eyes fondly. “Near-future is soon enough for me. A year from now, two at the most. Let’s enjoy being a family of three for a little while longer.”
Stephen slipped an arm around her shoulders and held her close, murmuring, “That is perfectly fine by me.”
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Big Daddy/Marcus Learns the Awful Truth
Characters from Sing (2016) and Sing 2 (2021) belong to Universal Pictures/Universal City Studios, INC., Illumination Entertainment, and its respectful owners.
Crossover with Horton Hears a Who (2008) which belongs to 20th Century Fox Film Corporation, 20th Century Fox Animation, Blue Sky Studios, and its respectful owners.
Sources for facts listed in the story:
Source 1: 12 Things Fathers Do That Emotionally Damage Their Sons (daddyful.com)
Source 2: 5 Ways Parents and Adult Children Can Improve Their Relationship | Psychology Today
So, Big Daddy/Marcus has decided to further educate himself on the topic of Father-Son Relationships and how to keep it together. But in this case, he is going to find out what would happen if he still led Johnny down the path of illegal doings. To find out, Big Daddy/Marcus decides to consult with Dr. Leslie Raymond. The brainiest parental-child therapist on the staff of Calatonia University.
Big Daddy/Marcus: Dr. Raymond? What I have done to Johnny was bad, mate. I also tried to lead him down the dark path and that was the worst mistake I have ever made.
Leslie: Oh. Marcus. How may I be of assistance?
Big Daddy/Marcus: Well, when a father leads his son down a dark, cold, and dangerous pathway, what would happen to their relationship, las?
Lesie: Oh, why would you ask something like that?
Big Daddy/Marcus: Well, I must confess that I tried that exact same thing with my son, Johnny. After finding out that he wanted to be a singer, I temporarily disowned him. But I later regretted my irrational decision and decided to apologize to him. Of course, he forgave me for the horrible thing that I had done to him, mate. I also told him later that I was going to reflect and further educate myself on these topics. I thought that it was important that I do so that way I can follow through with my word and prove to Johnny that I will be a better person and be the father that he deserves.
Leslie: Hmm. Let me see about this.
-Leslie Typing-
Leslie: Well, cases like these can lead the father's child to temporary or permanent emotional damage caused by a few things. Total Dishonesty to your Child, Mocking your Child's Achievements, Blaming your Faults on your Child, Manipulating your Child, and other things. All of these things are also signs of a father being a Narcissist. If these things keep up, Johnny will never want a relationship with you, meaning that your Father-Son bond as you know it will be destroyed.
Big Daddy/Marcus (Shocked): Destroyed? Oh Dear!
Leslie: I know, it is shocking for you to hear that. But you are not alone on this one. This is one of the reasons why DSS and Family Therapists recommend you talk to each other, which is one of the mature ways to improve your relationship, and take full responsibility for your actions, which you are in the process of doing so.
Big Daddy/Marcus (Sad): Aw, Man! I can't believe I have been a Narcissist father the whole time, las!
Lelsie: Hey, I have seen many Narcissist parents who want to change themselves and become better parents, not to mention better people. Some don't change, but some do. It seems like that you are one of those who want to change for the better. With love, faith, trust, respect, and determination, you will get there. Trust me, the view from the top is extremely beautiful.
Big Daddy/Marcus: So what you are saying that If a keep doing what I am doing now, by taking responsibility, talking to Johnny, loving him, and supporting him, I will still have a chance to have a relationship with him, mate?
Lesie: Yes, but the process will not be easy. You will still run into a few bumps here and there, but if you learn from those bumps, the ride will be smoother than it was before.
Big Daddy/Marcus: Okay. Thank you, las.
Leslie: No, thank you for taking this time to learn more about this topic. As you said, it is super important that you do so because from learning from these things, you can prove to Johnny that you will be a better father and a better person. Now, tomorrow I won't be here because I will be visiting my family in Salt Lake City, Utah. Even though I won't be here for a few weeks, I want you to know that I will still be available for family advice and more information.
-Leslie Writes Down Her Cellular Work Phone Number-
Leslie: Just give me a shout, okay?
Big Daddy/Marcus: Okay. Thank you so much. I will stay connected with you, las. Bye for now. Hope you enjoy your time with family.
Leslie: I will.
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The Pelican Nebula in Cygnus (IC 5070), 3nm Ha filter, 49 x 300-second exposures stacked in DSS shot with a ZWO ASI1600MM-Pro monochrome camera running at -10C. IC 5070 is part of the larger North America nebula region, about 2600 lightyears away.
With the milky way swinging up in the East above 30° around 11:30 pm, I only have three to four hours of narrowband nebula imaging time. Spring is “Galaxy Season” after all, with most of the northern hemisphere night sky time directed away from our own galactic core and into the depths of the known universe. You know, where many of the other galaxies are.
The skies weren’t particularly clear last night, but good enough for some long exposure hydrogen-alpha imaging of the Pelican Nebula (IC 5070) in the constellation Cygnus. The Pelican is the next-door neighbor of NGC 7000, the North America Nebula. With an 800mm focal length and the ZWO ASI1600MM camera I can only fit most of the nebula into the frame, but a nice clear view of the star-forming structures on the north-facing side, the “top” of the nebula.
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Hubble Peers Through Giant Elliptical’s Layers This new NASA Hubble Space Telescope image captures the central region of the gigantic elliptical galaxy NGC 474. Located some 100 million light-years from Earth, NGC 474 spans about 250,000 light-years across – that’s 2.5 times larger than our own Milky Way galaxy! Along with its enormous size, NGC 474 has a series of complex layered shells that surround its spherical-shaped core. The cause of these shells is unknown, but astronomers theorize that they may be the aftereffects of the giant galaxy absorbing one or more smaller galaxies. In the same way a pebble creates ripples on a pond when dropped into the water, the absorbed galaxy creates waves that form the shells. About 10% of elliptical galaxies have shell structures, but unlike the majority of elliptical galaxies, which are associated with galaxy clusters, shelled ellipticals usually lie in relatively empty space. It may be that they’ve cannibalized their neighbors. The image was created using data from Hubble’s Advanced Camera for Surveys. Additional gap-filling data was provided by Hubble’s Wide Field and Planetary Camera 2 and Wide Field Camera 3. The color blue represents visible blue light while the color orange represents near infrared light. Most elliptical galaxies are associated with galaxy clusters, but NGC 474 is in a relatively empty part of space. Only a much smaller spiral galaxy, NGC 470, is nearby and visible in the Digital Sky Survey image above. This beautiful spiral will likely succumb to NGC 474’s gravitational pull billions of years from now, possibly creating even more complex shells around the giant elliptical. Credits: NASA, ESA, D. Carter (Liverpool John Moores University), DSS; Image processing: G. Kober (NASA Goddard/Catholic University of America) Main Image Credit: NASA, ESA, and D. Carter (Liverpool John Moores University); Image processing: G. Kober (NASA Goddard/Catholic University of America)
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