Utter Fluff: Theia Gets All Buttered Up
Summary: Theia is kept up with PMS cramps and cravings, and her restlessness causes her lover, Josephine, to awake to quite a site: the brave and tenacious Inquisitor, spoon-deep in peanut butter.
Writer’s Note: Even the Inquisitor gets periods and feels pressed about it. Deal with it. *Middle Finger*
It was surely a mere few hours before dawn would break, so when Josephine’s eyelids began reacting to the sight of light, she felt her face scrunch in reaction to it. What could possibly be causing this disturbance? Had Theia left a candle lit again?
Opening her eyes, she saw at once that a candle was indeed lit, but its strong flame and lack of dripping-over wax told her it had been recently lit. Uncovering her head from underneath the pillow, she caught a glimpse of Theia’s bare legs coupled and bent upwards. Curious as to what kept Theia up this late in the night, she looked up through her dense black curls to see her love, holding a jar of some sort in one hand and a spoon in the other, sucking on the back of it with her mouth.
Brow furrowed, Josephine rubbed her face and let out a sigh of fatigue.
“Theia…what…is the matter?” she groaned with all the kindness she could muster.
Theia looked down at her with a sorry expression, thinking that her quiet activity would allow Josephine to keep sleeping. But, she had become worried about something, which called upon her to light a candle to see more clearly. Thinking she could get away with it, she left it lit, but now she knew Josephine was not that heavy of a sleeper.
“I’m sorry, my love. I snuck down to the kitchen and found a spare jar of peanut butter. I’m cramping heinously tonight, I think I will bleed soon,” she hummed, sticking the spoon rather aggressively into the jar of thick peanut butter. She had lay awake for an hour craving its salted taste, its understated sweetness. The one woman in the kitchen – she remembered her name to be Clara, but, she couldn’t be certain at this hour in the night – made it the best. After trying to fall back asleep throughout the pain, she figured if she was to remain sleepless, she would do so with a midnight snack of sorts.
Josephine was now more sympathetic for Theia’s cause. She pulled herself up out of her cocoon of sheets to get a look at her. When she was close to her bleeding time, she would always crave pastries from Val Royeaux like a sweet fiend. She had a secret stash in her own bedchambers, but she hadn’t the need for them the last couple of weeks.
“Can I do anything to help you feel more comfortable?” she whispered, her eyes noticing that Theia had kept her underwear on just in case.
“Not unless you can tell my womb to relent its tyranny,” Theia said with a spoonful of peanut butter in her mouth. It came across as more of a wolverine’s growl than a woman’s speech, and it made Josephine smirk with endearment.
“Actually, there is one thing you can do. Tell me a story,” Theia felt another thundering of pain start to form in her lower gut, and she wanted to hide her subordination to it so as to not worry Josephine with her wincing and whining. Between the mood swings, cravings, and muscle soreness in the most inconvenient of body parts, Theia wanted nothing more than a moment’s mercy.
Josephine grinned, a hand pushing back a thick collection of her hair that had fallen into her face. The looseness of her cotton night dress falling off of her shoulders and creating quite the tempting sight for Theia, who would be all over her had her body not decided to revolt.
“What kind of story do you wish to hear?” Josephine purred, beckoning her to lay on her lap like they commonly did when one of them needed comfort.
Theia happily took the invitation, carrying her treasured peanut butter with her as she laid back, curling herself up against Josephine, her head and left shoulder laying directly on her thighs. She gazed up to see Josephine eyeing her with adoration, and it filled her with butterflies to offset the aching, unrelenting pain.
Sweetly, Theia swiped the spoon into the jar and held it up to Josephine’s lips. “Tell me about a time you did something you were definitely not allowed to do.”
Josephine smirked, as if her ego was slighted just to contemplate such an impossible idea. She took the bite of peanut butter, though, and as she released the spoon from her pursed lips, she genuinely tried to recall a time when she did not as she was told for once.
“Well, there was one occasion where I slapped a stable boy.”
Theia’s eyes widened. Hearing Josephine resort to violence was like hearing that a Dragon was seen wearing an Orlesian mask and gown combination: unnatural, and quite frankly, confusing as to just what compelled such a thing to come to pass in the first place.
“Please explain, before I have you detained for assault and questioned,” Theia joked, a sly grin on her lips as she held the jar on her stomach.
Josephine shook her head slightly, chuckling under her breath. “He was being most improper to the horses. To be frank, he was always a sort of…well, what would be the word?”
“Indeed, one of those, I imagine. Well, he had caught me on a particularly inconvenient day. His foul mouth was just too much for me to bear, to I politely asked him to refrain from being so crass out in the open air whilst a Lady was in his presence. He told me something most lewd and deplorable, so, against my better judgement I pulled out my fan and slapped in squarely across the face.”
“Josephine Montilyet, irrationality? You?” Theia gazed up at her, trying to feign horror, but her eyes and grin told Josephine everything she needed to know about just how tickled pink Theia was on the inside to hear such a story.
“I immediately apologized after. Well, I should not say immediately – there was…time, for him to contemplate the repercussions of his actions.”
“It was not the best of days, as I said before. I was preoccupied with my own stressful concerns, and he refused to allow me an ounce of understanding. I have no patience for men who think their whining and complaining must be to the audience of everyone around them. It is most fatiguing.”
Theia’s body scrunched a bit more, feeling the pang of another cramp in her core. She took a sharp inhale, but wanted the conversation to continue. Seeing Josephine’s face grow concerned, she smiled as a way of saying she would, in fact survive.
“Perhaps you had what I do, now. I almost bit the head off of one of Cullen’s messengers today. The poor man looked as if I was going to freeze him solid.”
“My love, you do have a reputation.”
“Yes, but not with those undeserving.”
Josephine smirked, laying down on her side and curling around Theia’s position on her lap. Carefully, she reached a hand and let it rest on Theia’s abdomen, pressing ever-so-gently so as to provide a comfort and warmth against her straining muscles.
“Those who fear your wrath simply do not know the capacity of your kindness.”
Theia’s eyes softened and a look of surprise appeared on her face. “You…oh, why did you have to say that?” her voice devolved into a curdling of sorts as tears began to well in her eyes. “Oh, Maker,” she dropped the peanut butter jar off to the side and covered her face, feeling the weak and intemperate tears forming.
Josephine, shocked at first, but then knowing full well what she had accidentally inspired in the Inquisitor, couldn’t help but giggle. “Theia Sofia,” she said, pulling her in now with her arms as she sat up once more, letting her lover lay squarely up against her lap and stomach. She let her hand stroke her white blonde hair out of her face as she hid her expression from her.
“No,” Theia muttered from behind her compressed hands, “I am not going to be a blubbering fool.”
Josephine leaned down and kissed Theia’s forehead, which had about an inch of skin unexposed.
“Of course not; a fool would have gotten a fork for the peanut butter.”
