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@amctherlyfigure-archived
Um, apologies if your ooc post got reblogged by me? I was scrolling through and suddenly a little notification box popped up at the bottom saying I had reblogged something. I immediately deleted it. Im... I dont even know how it happened, but regardless, I'm sorry. Lol
Descriptions of The Ranch: Pt. 1 Front Exterior
The ranch is something out of a fairytale. The drive, a winding paved path that disappears into a thick line of trees, is barely recognizable as a driveway to someone’s home. The only way it could really be spotted is by the hanging sign and the pretty, copper mailbox that stands out by the main road, indicating the address. The way through the trees is wide enough that two cars are barely able to pass each other at once and at night, it’s pitch black, no lights to guide the way.
But the treeline ends almost abruptly after only fifty yards, opening up into a vast piece of property. The paved road goes for another hundred yards before climbing a softly rolling hill, the pasture on either side following the same trajectory. As you crest the top of the hill, there is a stone gateway where all the fence-lines connect, an intricate, wooden arch stretching over top indicating that you have arrived at ‘The De Luca-Bleary Animal Rehabilitation Center’. From that point, you can see a large portion of the main property, even the distant upper floors and gabled roof of the mansion, peeking over the tops of the cherry blossom trees.
The gate here sits open, inviting for those who have come to enjoy the peace of the ranch. Pastures line the drive as far as the eye can see, small herds of horses dotting a few of the pastures, grazing on green grass or lazing in the warmth of the sun.
The drive dips back down the other side of the hill. At the bottom, the pavement stops and the rest is gravel, giving the nice sound of a ‘crunch’ beneath the tires. You can see for a mile on one side or the other of the driveway, darkly stained fence posts guarding the green grass within. The further along the drive you move, the fence line begins to slightly drift away from the gravel, only enough to make room for the large cherry blossom trees, all standing in perfect line with each other on either side, like sentinels. Pink flower petals drift lazily down on a soft breeze, making the drive look like it’s blanketed in a light layer of pink stained snow.
You pass tree after tree after tree, the pastures behind them getting a little larger and more used looking, though still pristine as could be. The branches create a shifting shadow over the road ahead, light peeking through here and there. It would be eery if it weren’t so beautiful. At the end of the drive, the trees stop and the gravel loops around a small fountain in a wide circle, meeting itself at the base of the front steps.
The house itself looks like a modernized Victorian manor, the exterior walls mostly comprised of varying tones of gray flagstone with espresso colored trim, except for the third-floor rooms, which were comprised of white stucco and dark, ornamental half-timbers. Bushes and flower beds line the front of the house, and vines have crawled their way up some of the stone. Everything is well kept and trimmed. Nothing is out of place or looks like it has fallen into disrepair. The twenty or so windows at the front of the mansion reflect the sunlight as if they had just been wiped clean only moments before.
The front stairs are also made of stone, clean and swept free of debris. You climb the first set to a platform that is met by bushes and flowers until it curves towards another set which leads you to the front porch. A set of large, wooden, darkly stained double doors with frosted glass set in the center of both, are the only two things standing between you and the warmth of the home inside.
What the interior of Gretchen’s barn would look like. There would be stalls on the other side also with a tack room at one end and a muck room at the other.
threeclaws:
amctherlyfigure:
It came to take him in the silence that followed the bitter words, standing in the shrine of the one he loved. Closer to her than he’d ever been before, and yet she was still so far.
You should take a moment and feel it.
Gretchen coaxed him out, carefully speaking as she took his hand. His jaw went tight at the suggestion of calling her niece home, but he was still pulled too taut to muster up a protest. Maybe he just wanted to hear it. He wanted to let himself believe for a moment, or two, that it was as easy as getting Kate to come home. But the school would still need to be fixed. The children would still need someone to watch over them. Charles was still going to die. Time wasn’t going to wait for him to take care of it.
And to think, Logan was once a man with nothing but all the time in the world.
“No, no,” he spoke softly. His mouth pinched shut, a furrow in his brow, as he swallowed carefully. Despite the sudden hush to his voice, he still felt he was speaking too fast, too loudly. He’d gone and made Gretchen cry, damn it. He didn’t visit to give her any pain. “Look, no, Gretch’, she- no. It don’t matter, I shouldn’t’ve - it’s not that bad. Just new.”
It was probably the shitty lie he’d ever delivered, but he didn’t waver when he finally lifted his head and met her gaze. He could see Kate in her features - and the idea of Kate ever showing as much vulnerability as her aunt did scared the shit out of him.
“Kate doesn’t need to come home.” The word hit him a little harder than he was ready for, and Logan had to pause once more. His throat worked, and he lifted one shoulder in the faintest of shrugs. He should’ve kept with the lies. He needed to, because he just didn’t have the time to have Gretchen worrying about him. He didn’t have the time to wait for a soldier to return from war.
He didn’t want to think about Kate coming home for a dead man.
“She can’t know, because I think you’re right. She’d come back. But I can’t ask, ‘cause I can’t be waitin’ by the door, y’know? She’s got her shit, Gretchen, I got mine, I know that… I knew that when getting in over my head with her. I only…” He stopped with a sigh, turning his gaze down. After a moment to find the words, he went on quietly, “Y’know, I just wanna know that she’s good. Safe.”
Logan stopped, as if doing his best to simply bite his tongue, but finally he sucked in a breath and looked at Gretchen again, a pinch in his brow as he asked what he shouldn’t.
“Have you seen her? Since-?”
Gretchen waited quietly, doing her best to keep the tears from flowing. He had lied to her about the severity of whatever he was dealing with... she could see that in his eyes, but she made no comment. She just let him talk... let him lay it all out. She felt horrible... the one that should have been hearing it all wasn’t supposed to be her. It was supposed to be Kate.
She hadn’t looked away from him... not until his last few statements. She sighed, shaking her head and looking away. Her hand dropped from his arm and she bit her lower lip. “The last I saw of her was immediately after she left the mansion. She... she was a mess. Her eyes... the colors shifted so often that it was sometimes hard to know who I was talking to.”
Gretchen sighed again, turning away from Logan. She moved back to the desk, attempting to straighten pictures that hadn’t even been moved. She could lie to him about how she thought Kate actually was. Or she could tell the truth. “For a few weeks, she called. She said she was fine... but I could hear in her voice that she wasn’t. Then the calls stopped and I got postcards and no return addresses. She wrote that her phone got destroyed somehow. She never gives details, she doesn’t write and say she’s okay. But she was alive as of a week ago. That’s all I can really tell you.”
There was a long pause where Gretchen just stopped, fingers resting on the wood of the desk. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that she left. The school... it was so good for her. She had a place to belong to and people to call family... and she had you. She couldn’t have children of her own, but she loves all of those kids like they were. And she loves you more than anything.” Gretchen finally looked up at Logan, picking up the image that he had left on the desk. “I tried to tell her to go back but once Animal got involved... Well, you know how stubborn KATE is. Animal is twenty times worse.”
She moved back to Logan, handing him the picture. “You take this with you. When you get home, you throw it away, burn it, tear it shreds, throw it in the bottom of a drawer and forget it exists... keep it ... do whatever you want. I wish I could explain to you why she left, but it isn’t my place.” She paused, placing both hands on his upper arms and giving him a gentle squeeze. “I want you to know that even if Kate does not come back, you always have a place in my house and my family, Logan, Always. And I know the opinion of a man you’ve never met probably means very little... but my Thomas... he would have loved you like a son just as I do.”
threeclaws:
amctherlyfigure:
He didn’t let go of the frame, even when he finally turned to look at Gretchen when her voice changed. Brow knit in concern, he waited for her to go on. She disappeared from our lives. Oh, that hit a little closer to home than he was ready for. It wasn’t quite the same. He knew, of course he knew, that Kate was somewhere out there in the world. He… he felt that thread. It tied him to her… He just wasn’t sure if it tied her to him any more.
The dread only grew worse in the face of all the pictures of innocence. Gretchen meant well, but that didn’t mean he believed a word of it. He hadn’t brought any innocence to Kate, no peace.
Not that that was fair by any means. Both of their lives were so entangled in everything else, he couldn’t be an anchor to her. People weren’t anchors. But he was selfish, and he was hurt, and lashing out like a fucking teenager, blaming her for not sitting around at home when he wanted her. Christ, want, as if he was owed her by the universe. People weren’t anchors, people weren’t trophies.
He pulled his hand away from the frame he’d found, simply to turn his attention to the picture she placed in his hands. His eyes went a little wide; he hadn’t known about this photograph. To him, it looked like Kate beside him - but beside all these relics of her past, he recognized how young she seemed.
It had always been how he felt with her. It was what he lost when she went away.
He set the picture down, shuffling forward in the chair so he was perched on the edge. He was as far away from Gretchen as he could be.
“I don’t want to see this. This doesn’t- I’m not-” He shut his mouth, sighing through his nose as he carefully shook his head. After a moment, he hastily rose to his feet. Unable to look at Gretchen, those De-Luca features that only made his gut twist. He still didn’t look at her as he moved around the desk, speaking in a voice that was louder than he intended.
“I’m not angry. I’m sick.”
His feet stopped underneath him. Hell, his heart all but gave out right there and then.
Not good at this, that was what he’d meant to say. I’m not good at this. Heartbreak, family, the privileged life of a man in love - that was what he was bad at. He was not a man. He was a weapon, a monster, an animal. But he’d made a decision to leave that life behind; he’d done that for the school, for mutantkind, for love… maybe for his own selfishness. But it wasn’t the man who was ever in possession of that innate power inside him. Men were not immortal.
Men also weren’t filled with over thirty kilograms of an unstable vibranium alloy that was toxic to the body’s systems.
Logan surrendered to the utter despair. Frustrated, he scrubbed over his face. One hand moved to his hip, and the other shaded his eyes from any burning feeling of how Gretchen could possibly see him now.
Her heart broke at the sight of Logan’s open despair. She’d seen that look... that stance before. When the detectives had told them that the search for Kate was being called off, that the girl was likely dead, Thomas had looked exactly like Logan did now. He had lost the little girl who he’d loved like a daughter and Logan had lost the woman that he loved. She had felt it herself - she knew the heartache that followed both.
But his words hung in the air like dead weight. She didn’t respond to him at first. She considered what he’d said carefully, a wavering and uncertain sigh released from her lips. He was sick... but she didn’t know if he meant physically or metaphorically. Gretchen knew what his mutation was and what it meant so he couldn’t be physically ill... right? “Wh-” She paused, shaking her head and coming around the edge of the desk. She found herself standing in front of him, a gentle hand reaching out to touch his arm, always soft as if she was calming a wounded and frightened animal.
On top of everything else... on top of Kate leaving and Charles' difficulties as of late and Logan having to shoulder more responsibility... he was sick? This man bared the weight of the world on a daily basis, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t heavy and growing heavier by the day.
Pale green eyes tried to search his face even though he had it mostly covered. She ducked her head to try to see past his fingers hiding his features. Eventually, she just reached up, fingers gently curling around his to pull his hand down. “I know... what it feels like to lose someone you love... I know FAR too well. But... she isn’t dead.” Not that Gretchen knew of at least. “Logan, she can still come home. If-... If I need to find a way to get a hold of her, I will. Even if I have to fly myself to Nepal or wherever her last postcard said she might be going... If you’re- If she knows that you need her, she’ll come back. I know she will.”
There was a pause, concern creasing her dark brows and tears welling up in her eyes. Right at that moment, she wished she was able to control her emotions more the way Kate did. Her niece had a natural ability to hold back tears and keep her softer emotions guarded from her features, but Gretchen possessed no such ability. “Logan... are you really sick? Does she need to come home?”
threeclaws:
amctherlyfigure:
He winced at the sigh. Here he was, trying the best he could to avoid the elephant in the room, only to end up tripping over the trunk. So much for his attempt to continue tromping on about the school. This was about Kate. In a way, it was all about Kate. There was all that time from before and after; it had really come to that, hadn’t it? He’d made a list of everything he’d done since she left, as if waiting for the right thing to show up so he could… well, he could do something. Even if he couldn’t help but feel the right thing would be to play copycat and hit the road. But he couldn’t.
There wasn’t time for that.
A hand landed on his, and he finally sighed - a surrender to the conversation to be had. He didn’t move his hand under hers, but placed his other over hers. He opened his mouth to protest. He was already shaking his head. But then she was already encouraging him to his feet, and - well, he always had a hard time saying no to the women in this bloody family. Left standing for a moment, he remained still, looking a little baffled. Belated, he glanced down at his plate when she mentioned leaving the dishes. He watched for a moment as she crossed the room, heading towards a door that Logan hadn’t ever bothered to open. Still, she told him to follow. After a moment, he did.
You don’t belong here, captain.
Logan’s hand went over the other, as if to hide his knuckles from such a… revered place. He didn’t have to be told to assume it was this was a room for her husband. It was tidy… but unused. It looked how holding your breath felt. Like waiting.
Sit.
He felt the word as if he’d been struck, though there wasn’t pain. Perhaps he was recognizing the monumental weight of taking the chair. Taking a place in a home that wasn’t his. Of the pair one was long dead, and yet Logan could feel the weight of two gazes on him as he obeyed Gretchen’s request. Sinking into the seat with his hands on the desk. Men in interrogations were required to keep their hands above the table, and even they would seem less stiff.
Fuck you, something vicious inside him suddenly spat. Logan turned his head away from Gretchen, acting as if he was looking to the other side of the desk and not hiding what might have been a snarl. I get this whole shitty life, I lose the girl, and now you sit me down like I was always meant for this domestic bullshit? Goin’ through old photos, reminisce about the good ol’ days? Look back to look forward, is that what this is? As if there’s any forward at all for you?
Logan reached out, not with tension or hostility. But just a careful hand, so afraid of leaving bruises on such a sacred place. His fingers touched the frame of a photo, curving as if he was about to pick it up, but he didn’t. His thumb smudged in the dust, leaving his print. He had been here. Whether he liked it or not, understood it or not, he had been here.
His voice was gentle, though perhaps not for Gretchen’s sake. Perhaps he deserved just as much as a quiet in the answer as he put in the question. “Why we down here, huh? This ain’t…”
Finally turning to her, there was a sense of giving in when his eyes landed on her. He gave up his questions, his reasoning, for her sake. His gaze dropped slightly, looking like a child that’d been reprimanded, and he finally answered, “I see it, Gretch.”
Gretchen nodded, standing at Logan’s side, her eyes on the pictures. “She and her uncle were two peas in a pod. Pulling pranks, laughing, living... loving life and all the joy it had to give. But I thought I’d never see that smile again after that... that piece of shit attacked her when she was sixteen. Kate had become this sullen, melancholy, and serious creature... one I hardly recognized. She spent her free time finishing up her schooling, working with the animals, and training with Thomas. He wanted her to be better prepared.”
Gretchen paused, shaking her head. There was a hitch in her breath, emotions nearly overwhelming her, but she pushed it back down, knowing she needed to make her point before she lost him. “And then... she disappeared from our lives. I didn’t see her again for probably twelve years. Even upon her return, there was no smile... there was no joy. There was hardly any emotion at all that was visible to the naked eye. Then she started coming around more and a year later, she was telling me about a school for mutants... and after a while, YOU became a regular topic. And for the first time in thirteen years... that smile,” she said, pointing at the pictures on the desk, “was there on her face again.”
Gretchen took a small step back and leaned down, opening one of the drawers on the desk. She carefully rummaged around inside until she had found what she had been looking for. The drawer was shut again and she reached inside the envelope, pulling out another image, which she then handed to Logan. It was a candid shot of Kate with him, a grin on her face that matched the one in the older pictures.
“I know you’re probably angry with her... as you should be. She left when she should have stayed... But I want you to be angry with her for the right reasons, Logan. Don’t ever think she left because she didn’t love you. She loves you more than she loves anything else in this world. She loves that school and those children. But YOU... you were everything to her. Leaving you was the hardest decision she’s ever made... however misguided it was.”
Kate had told Gretchen her real motivations for leaving but in Gretchen’s opinion, it wasn’t really her place to explain it to Logan. The only one that should be doing any explaining was Kate herself, only she wasn’t here to do it.
threeclaws:
amctherlyfigure:
“No, no,” he said hastily,”Not for a few years. It’s uh… well, Just with everything set up for Chuck… yeah, we’ve had to shift a few things around, but it’s…” There was a long pause, his fork still in hand but still on his plate. His mouth pressed thin for a moment, before he admitted, “Well, we have to look to the future, right? Ain’t easy but gotta be done.”
He hated the silence that followed as he quietly worked on his food, but was petrified of what he’d possibly say if he tried to fill that empty space. It wasn’t his place to speak about it, and it wasn’t on Gretchen to be concerned about him. Logan could take care of himself.
But her offer caught his attention. Eyes a little wide in startlement, his mouth bobbed for a second. It was his instinct to say no. Aside from accepting charity (he didn’t need any help), there was protest from the old grizzled beast still in his chest. You’re a soldier. You’re a weapon. You give a piece of your heart over, you don’t get to be surprised when what always happens, happens. What had become of Logan? Looking after an old man and his school, making plans just to make some kids happy, visits to a friend’s ranch? He was becoming a bonafide normal guy.
Logan had to remind himself that this wasn’t for him The offer was incredible for the others. It was needed. Hell, it was sorely needed for the school.
After a moment, he nodded, “Yeah, yeah, ‘lright. Long as the food’s this good every time.”
He smirked at that, and went to finish off his plate. He hummed in lieu of words around his fork when she asked about horse care. The answer came up so quickly, that he actually began to reply, “Well, I’m sure Ka…”
His expression fell into something utterly dull behind his eyes. Mouth carefully shutting, so tightly that his lips pressed thin, his gaze left hers to drop to his plate. He gave a sniff, as if fighting off a cold, and a little more stiffly went on, “I can handle things, just until everything gets settled and we get a stablehand on payroll. M'sure if I make it one of 'em outreach things, the others would eat it up. Mutants helpin’ mutants n'all that.”
Gretchen chuckled, nodding her head. “I promise, the food is ALWAYS this good. I may even be nice enough to occasionally make you a very manly steak.” She gave him a smirk, moving to clean up her own dishes when he began to say Kate’s name. Ah. There it was. She stopped, eyes lifting to him as he cut himself off, her smirk fading quickly at the change in the atmosphere... and his expression.
Her features softened, mouth downturned slightly. Gretchen waited for him to finish what he had to say before heaving a soft sigh. “My dear...” She paused, shaking her head and reaching over to him, slim fingers wrapping around his hand and giving it a soft squeeze. “I’ll help with the transition at the school until you have someone there. You have enough on your plate as it is.” She had never seen an expression on his face quite like that and it broke her heart. She gave his hand another squeeze before gently tugging at it. “Come with me, dear.”
Gretchen released her hold on his hand and stood from her seat. “Leave the dishes.” Quietly, she passed through the kitchen into the hallway and crossed the space to a door, one which concealed an area that was not one that anyone had ever shown to Logan. But now, she opened the door and revealed a long set of stairs leading to a basement.
At the bottom, the stairwell opened up into a large, finished room. It was an office, decorated with mounted ducks, pheasants, and quail. There was even the head of a deer hanging high on one wall, the antlers nearly touching the ceiling. Beneath them were cases, all closed and locked and filled with rifles and firearms from multiple centuries. They all looked well cared for. But across from the stairwell was a desk, decorated with pictures and a statue of a bucking horse and a lamp. Everything was neat and in its place... untouched by time. It had been Thomas’ office.
Gretchen crossed behind the desk and pulled out the chair, patting the back of it. “Sit. I want you to look at these pictures.” The framed images in question stood like a monument at the front of the desk. There was a family portrait of Gretchen, Thomas, and two little girls, one looking like the far younger version of Kate and another girl, slightly older than the other. There were other pictures, most featuring Kate at varying ages, horseback riding, playing the piano with Gretchen at her side, draped in camo and holding a rifle next to Thomas. In every single one, she was grinning, sometimes missing a tooth, sometimes not.
“Do you see that smile on that little girl’s face?”
threeclaws:
amctherlyfigure:
“I don’t think you gotta worry about me,” Logan chuckled, “I brought my stomach. This all looks delicious, thank you.”
He touched her elbow in a fond way, a silent thanks as he went around her to his seat. There was a belated noise of surprise under his breath when he noticed the beer already set for him, still chilled. He took his time getting settled in his seat, watching Gretchen for her cues. He wasn’t the sort to say a prayer, but he wouldn’t protest if she spoke up. But she simply dished food onto her plate. After taking a sip, he followed suit. He was dutiful in his responses, talking about the school as eager as he could manage. Charles was mentioned briefly, the upcoming retirement and the handing down of the reins. Scott would finally take the title that’d already been his for years, and Ororo would take over as headmistress. It was a transition, one that wasn’t necessarily in the protocols, but they were managing the shift they best they could. Though granted, Logan was careful not to touch on how Charles’ demeanor was dwindling. It wasn’t a walk in the park, but he’d gotten used to making it as pain-free for the students as he could. Underplaying the severity of the situation for Gretchen was easy.
The latter startled him though.
“Me?” he said, stunned. He- well, he didn’t think about himself. He wasn’t the concern right now (despite Hank’s insistence that he get checked out). He set his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat, warding off a tickle that threatened a cough. “Not much to say. Just uh- keeping busy. Classes, working on the house. I was actually, uh-”
He pointed towards the door as he cleared his throat again, “I was gonna ask you about the ranch. We haven’t been able to use the stables the past couple'a years, but we got this girl who’s come from the next county over, grew up with horses. Got me thinkin’ about maybe refixin’ it, gettin’ some ponies back in there. It’d be good for the kids, yeah? Teach ‘em responsibility, get the chores goin’ n'stuff.”
It’s a distraction, one he hoped to God worked. The last thing he needed to do was think about himself.
His fairly regular clearing of his throat hadn’t gone unnoticed by Gretchen, but she didn’t want to comment on it. By the surprise on his face, she had clearly caught him off guard by her question. Even though she thought there might be something more to the ‘frog’ in his throat, she just chalked it up to his surprise. “I was told there were stables on the grounds but I never knew they weren’t being used.”
Gretchen cleared her plate and took a sip of her wine, pale green eyes drifting out to the barn. She had more horses than she knew what to do with at this point and the barn was quickly running out of space. She paused, setting her glass down and turning her head to look at Logan. “I’ll tell you what. I have four horses that might be done with their rehabilitation program soon. They’ll be looking for good homes. I’ll donate some funds to help with the repairs of your stables... as well as some of the horses. In return... YOU need to visit me more often.” She gave him pointed look, a smirk curling up one corner of her lips, much the way Kate always did.
Gretchen sat back in her chair, pushing aside her empty plate. “Do you have anyone at the school that can teach proper horse care?” Kate would have been a prime candidate had she not left the school and disappeared into northern Canada for who knows how long. But she doesn’t say it. Logan was as good as family... and she didn’t want to bring him any more pain than he might already have. But the younger woman was the elephant in the room and it was likely she’d be brought up sooner or later.
@threeclaws
“I do hope you like Italian food. And there’s lots of it, so you best have a good appetite.” She ushered Logan into the dining room from the kitchen. The table was set with plates and utensils and the food was neatly laid out in the center. “Creamy, chicken marsala, garlic mashed potatoes, and salad if you want it.” She gestured to each dish before seating herself at the head of the table, a spot that she could see the back patio and the open barn doors through the glass, sliding door. A cold, open bottle of beer already sat next to the other plate, clearly waiting for him.
It was a few minutes before she spoke again, having taken the time to dish out the food onto her own plate. But when she spoke, she was careful to guard her words in an attempt to shield him from the topic of her niece. She spent the first half of the dinner asking about the school and the students and Charles. She even asked specifically about Ororo, Scott, Jean, and Hank. It had been a while since she’d been out to visit last and she was genuinely curious about how everyone was... but then, she asked, “And what about you? Have you been doing alright?”
outlawiism:
Gretchen
❛ Thomas ? your husband, right ? he’s not around anymore if i don’t remember incorrectly. i don’t know how comfortable you are with this conversation to be honest with ya. ‘cause sometimes i say somethin’ about my mom then DREAD the rest of what i have to say realizing that it hurts more than i think, every d’ast time. ❜
“Yes. Thomas passed away twelve years ago. And though it does still make me sad to speak about him, it no longer hurts.” Gretchen gently grabbed Peter’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I hope someday, you can speak of your mother without feeling the pain of losing her. I think it’s healthy to speak of those that we still hold in our hearts.” She allowed a sad smile to cross her features. “And your mother must have been VERY dear to you.”
@outlawiism
“You know... I can see why Kate likes having you around all the time. You are so much like Thomas.”
So I switched this blog over since my muse for Rogue has run away. It will be a blog for the aunt of my oc on my main blog. She will be used sparingly and only when needed.
he wouldn’t CONSIDER it a bad step ——— or a good STEP. right now he needed that to be BLOCKED out completely.
Peter listened INTENTLY, brows slightly furrowed into a false FROWN, a smirk gracing the right side of his face as he kept POKING his cake. seriously, he wasn’t trying to be SEXY with it or anything. he didn’t need to TRY for that one. ‘ i don’t know much about the French, other than knowing the word nouveau riche, is that even French ? ANYWAY ————— ’
a small THUD && the cake was by the night lamp.
‘ ————— i know somethin’ we can do if you have your bracelet. ’ reduced to a MERE whisper as he was RASH in moving in. he wouldn’t give a DAMN even if she lacked the tech. it wouldn’t KILL him to steal a kiss in its absence.
his breath was already QUIVERING almost —— sparkling eyes darkened under their lids && his hands found themselves around Rogue’s waist in an instant. it had been too long && the HOLLOWNESS he felt after all that happened deepened. he just might have NEEDED the waters of comfort SPLASHING them both. he didn’t want to be close to the WASHED shores of rationality —— even if it was for a short time. what was she EXPECTING from him anyway ?
Peter tried his best not to be SHARP in his movements; they were together && he didn’t think there was anything BETTER than hearing her sing a song to him —— that consisted of NOTHING but his NAME.
Peter’s closeness was something she hadn’t FULLY allowed for a long time... not with this much heat. But today, it didn’t scare her. Today, it felt RIGHT. Her eyes drifted to his mouth as he spoke, asking about her bracelet. She then held up her hand for him to see as she pulled her sleeve further up her forearm with her other hand, revealing the slim, silver bracelet. “I thought ahead.” Her arms then slipped around Peter’s shoulders, pulling herself ever CLOSER to him. There was a moment of INTENSE quiet between them. Even the surrounding hallways and other rooms seemed to have fallen quiet for their sake. The WEIGHT of the moment pressed in on Rogue. This was an important time. If she pulled away, there would likely be no fixing this COMPLETELY. But if she kissed him...
“I love you, Peter Quill.” She closed the minuscule distance between them, her lips touching his softly. If he wanted more, he’d let her know. And she WASN’T about to deny him more either. But first, she pulled back, looking up and meeting his eyes, one of her hands sliding up into his hair, lighting rubbing against his scalp and playing with the soft strands. She wanted to gauge his reaction to the words. They’d been in her letter, the one she’d left for him before chasing after Logan... and after their argument. And she knows all too well that those words were not OFTEN said to Peter... and Peter didn’t often say it to others. It could have been a bad move to say it to him NOW... but she meant it and she wasn’t about to RETRACT the statement. She loved Peter and she didn’t want to feel bad about that.
