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ashensgrotto · 10 months

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A Merfolk's Melody (Part 1)

Characters: Yan!Floyd x Reader, Yan!Jade x Reader, Yan!Azul x Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Intro (You are Here) Floyd Leech Jade Leech Azul Ashengrotto Epilogue

Synopsis: The sea always calls to those who feel lost and alone, wanting to fill the empty part of their soul until they are loved and full… and as such, it’s only fair that the strange creatures that live beneath it’s depths would want the same as well…

Author’s Note: Another 4-part fanfiction courtesy of @merakiui ‘s headcannnons of the reader being stuck in a room/wall (I’m sorry) -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/722393818829373440/in-addition-to-being-stuck-in-a-locked-room?source=share & https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/722677892623056896/about-the-stuck-in-a-wall-trope-in-the-oceani?source=share

Here’s how it’s going to work: each character is going to get their own part following the intro. It is going to focus on the Octrio again (bc it’s my current liking, sorry guys). If you want to read a certain character’s part, feel free to jump around and select the one you’re most interested in.

Again, as stated before, this is a work of fiction; I disagree with any and all behaviors that are represented in this story.

***

The sound of the waves crashing against the rocky surface was a sound that you had familiarized yourself with when you were a child. It and the call of the seagulls and other sea birds that brought forth fond memories of your childhood; images of your loving parents as they strolled along the beachside near the rocky terrain with you and your siblings following behind like little ducklings as they pointed out smooth pebbles and speckled shells, the shouts when your siblings pulled each other into the water before the tide overcame them like a dowsing rain shower, the laughter that followed in the evening before a roaring fire in the pit that cooked fish and crab along with corn and potatoes and marshmallows for dessert.

Yes, this was a child's paradise once upon a time and the sea had been there for every stumble you took, every laugh that bubbled from your lips… every tear that stained your cheek.

The sea always calls to those who feel lost and alone, wanting to fill the empty part of their soul until they are loved and full - and you needed a hole that existed in your heart to be filled with memories of the sea, wanting the salty water and the cries of gulls to wash away the pain and heartache you felt inside you.

You had returned to your family's sea cabin after several long years of being away in the city, moving away at the end of your high school year to attend college. The city was vastly different from the coastal residence you had lived in for eighteen years; there was no comfort or beauty or peace - it was loud and haze-filled and distorted. The people that lived there were rude and constantly in a hurry, bustling from place to place like work ants moving to and from the nest. There were a few that you had made friends with - their smiles and conversations always bringing forth those fond memories of your childhood - and there was one that you had loved and had loved you in return.

Sadly though, he was no longer in the picture - and the reason behind your return to the coast.

The two of you had met during orientation of your freshman year of college and had become fast friends. He introduced you to a lot of people and places, taking you by the hand and pulling you along the busy streets of the city - pointing out landmarks and museums, parks and local hot spots. It was all so overwhelming, causing your head to spin - but you always laughed at his energetic nature and wild behavior, a true sea captain in your eyes. He would take you on tours through the local zoo and art galleries, treat you to ice cream or coffee at the local shops, and talk to you about life in general during lunch breaks and help you with your exams and vice versa.

It was during your last year in school that you both started dating - the confession coming out over a school get together with a group of your friends at one of the local clubs, when the drinks were filled and music pounded through your body as you danced with your crush til the moon was high overhead. As you traveled together back toward the dorms, his hand clasped in yours with fingers entwined, he pressed his headon top of yours as you leaned into him to feel the warmth of his body as the chill of autumn surrounded you. He whispered that he liked you more than a friend and asked if you saw him as the same - he wouldn’t care if you did or didn’t, but he needed to know if there was anyone else that was important in your life.

You couldn’t have been happier that he felt the same as you did at that moment.

But of course, as the sea covers the shoreline, it always drags the unsuspecting sea creature back into its depths.

The first and second year as a couple was perfectly blissful - you both continued to make time for each other and walked along your usual paths during college and moved into an apartment together after graduation. You still visited the museums and galleries, got coffee, and talked about work and a future together on walks through the parks after your day’s busy schedule. Shortly into the third year as a couple, nearly six since you met each other, the appearance of another shimied into your life. It was at a new year’s celebration with a group of college friends that you were introduced to this new girl. She was the sister of a friend that was visiting for a week while touring colleges in the area, brought along by the friend so you could talk to her about your experiences at the college you had once attended together.

At first it seemed harmless, the eighteen-turning-nineteen was interested in what your field of study was, what the professors were like, how the dorms worked, what sort of clubs and sports were available to participate in - all questions a typical freshman-to-be would ask. However, what made you uncomfortable about the whole situation was the way she kept grabbing at your partner - leaning against him and whispering things in his ear, making him laugh with hers joining in as a chorus, her fingers slipping into his hand and squeezing his like they were a couple and you were the outsider. You attempted to sneak in and wrap your arm around him, but was swatted away like a pesky mosquito by her on more than one occasion; you shifted your eyes to look at your boyfriend, arching a brow to indicate he do something or at least say something that told her that he was taken already.

Not once did he say anything, nor did he do anything.

At the end of the night, as the two of you walked back to the apartment, he attempted to wrap his arm around you. Too hurt, you shrugged him off, making him stop and ask what was wrong. You argued with him that night - a huge fight that caused you to seek shelter at a coworker’s apartment instead of wanting to deal with the situation - needing space to cool off and rethink about how to approach the subject. When you came back in the morning to make amends, you found him embracing another woman - the same girl that had clung to him the night before. Fury and pain ripped through your heart like a storm crashing against the waves of the rocky surface - the cry that echoed through your throat rivaled the call of gulls as tears sprung like raindrops on the corners of your eyes.

It was enough noise to pull the sleeping couple from their dreamscape - your boyfriend springing upright, tugging on the sheets and distancing himself from the girl, who had sulked to the corner of the room, picking her clothing up off the ground and making her way hastily out of the room and the apartment. As much as your boyfriend tried to explain, you wanted to hear none of it - the roaring pain of your heart enough to drown out the noise of a thunderstorm as you gathered your things from the apartment, shaking your head with every plea and shrugging off every touch. You left your shared apartment, heading toward your coworkers’ apartment and explained what happened; she took pity on you, allowing you to stay so you could figure out what needed to happen next.

Your boss permitted you a week-long vacation.

“Get some rest, focus on yourself right now,” they said, pushing a box of tissues toward you, “You’re a good worker and a hard one at that. I’d hate to let you go over something so trivial.”

When you requested a bit more time, your boss agreed to two weeks - wanting you to get the proper care you so desperately needed, but wanting you to work all the same.

Which is how you found yourself back on the coast with the sea, gulls, and assorted creatures both of land and sea as your only companions. The cabin your family had once stayed in was smaller than you thought - enough room for only a set of adults and two children. Why did you think there were more that filled this room once upon a time? Were ther other children that lived in other cabins that lined the coast that often gathered here to spend time with you and you had once believed them to be siblings - even though you were an only child? Photos that still lived in corners of the rooms of the cabin indicated a happy family; a mother, a father, and a daughter - you. There were no other photos that indicated that there were other children, nor anyone that lived nearby with children your age to play with.

Were they all just imaginary friends you had conjured in your head to allow your lonely broken heart to feel whole like how the sea filled your spirit? Even if that were the case, how come your parents never corrected it? Did they feel pity for their only daughter whom had no friends? That they couldn’t force anyone to play with you or spend time with you? Or was there another reason?

Regardless of what had passed, the cabin slowly became a part of you - just as it did to your family once upon a time.

Every morning, you woke to the sound of a local cat scratching at the door - a little grey beast that paced the floor of the cabin before you set a plate of leftover steamed or roasted fish before the little creature, petting his fur as he ate before he took a bath and perched on the window sill, watching as you tended to the house - cleaning it and ridding it of decay and clutter that had mounted over the years of neglect. Then you would walk down to the shoreline, your sandals in one hand as your feet dug into the sand, water coming up to kiss your skin with is cool lips and filling your prints with water as it made small homes for the little hermit crabs that lurked along the shore - the little grey kitten walking beside you, it’s little blue gaze peering up at you from time to time as he meowed as if holding a conversation with you. You would hum and talk to him, even though you couldn’t understand him nor he could you - but the way his long fluffy tail would wrap around the back of your leg felt comforting, like he was guiding you along.

Then you would return to the cabin for a quick lunch before grabbing your fishing gear and heading back to the coast. The waves hit against your legs as you steadied yourself in the thrashing water as you casted line after line, reeling in food for supper and for your little companion who sat on a large rock and watched with interest. By the time the sun was setting, you would reel in your last catch and return to the shore, pulling your sandals on and hiking up the trail back to the cabin with the little grey kitten following close behind you. A fire was sparked into the pit, the flames flickering with life as you rested your catches in a wire basket that hung over the flames, turning each little piece over along with care as the flesh slowly became white and flaky - the corn and potatoes already prepared along with a small package of chocolate chip cookies that would become the end to a simple and meaningful meal.

Even though your days were filled with sorrow - your dreams were filled with a figure.

Each night, as sleep took you, you would often find yourself staring out at the sea as storm clouds brew overhead, threatening to split open and spew cool water from the heavens. You would reach around and wrap into yourself, your nails digging into your skin as a chilled breeze rattled your frame. You stood your ground, your eyes never leaving the horizon, even as the wind grew stronger and stronger, threatening to topple your figure. Eventually, the wind calmed as something appeared in the distance; a voice that sounded both familiar and unfamiliar calling out to you following the shape of what appeared to be a man. The figure would often extend their hand, their voice shifting to something soft and gentle, other times a giggle would erupt from their lips - but more often than not, singing in a language you had never heard before. You would start to take steps forward, one hand reaching out to theirs. But just before you could touch, your eyes would open to the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains of your small bedroom.

You started to muddle over the dream at the beginning of the second week of your time away from the big city, stirring your coffee absent-mindedly as your thoughts delved into darker waters; who was that in your dream? Why did he sound familiar? Was he supposed to be the ex you had left behind? Was your dream telling you that you should go back and forgive him? Or were they a person from your past? A friend that you had when you were a child but had forgotten about? You looked out the window as the grey kitten hopped onto the table and laid before you on his side, his belly up as your hand absent-mindedly reached out and stroked the fur, rubbing him as he let out contented squeaks and merps of pleasure.

The dream had been recurring ever since you arrived here - so much so there were times you thought that you saw something watching you behind the large rocks that jaunted out into the crashing sea waves.

Legends of merfolk, selkies, sirens, and assorted sea monsters had littered your childhood, many of the locals believing that these fantastical creatures of the waves lurked just beyond their borders. Some claimed to have seen merfolk with tails of shimmering gold lounging on the rocks that lined the surface and others claimed to have seen the heads of sea serpents and kelpies drifting out further beyond. Others swore up and down they heard the voices of sirens and seen the discarded pelt of a selkie - though none were ever proven to be true. However, there was one story that was told to you by your father years and years ago:

The cabin that you lived in once belonged to an old fisherman who disappeared several decades ago. He was a man of few words and was often seen walking along the coastal shore with his hound in tow, whistling a tune no one had heard before as he prepared to walk out into the open water. One day, his dog came running into the local village, barking and whining before pulling on people’s skirts and pant legs, tugging them in the direction of the old fisherman’s cabin. The villagers followed the dog to the sandbar, only to discover that the old fisherman had disappeared - all that remained was his gear and the straw hat he always wore. Some believed that a tide came in and swept him away, pulling his poor old body under the cruel cold waters and drowning him. Others believed he was taken as payment by the creatures of the deep per an unspoken agreement between the the creatures of the sea and the humans that existed on their shores. Regardless of what had happened, the cabin had been left abandoned and forgotten - until your family moved in as a separate living space for a summer retreat once upon a time.

You shook your head, blinking as you were snapped out of your thoughts.

Beyond the walls of your house, you could’ve sworn you saw a figure climbing onto the rocks that lined the shore. You stood and moved a bit closer to the aged-old glass, peering out to see the shape of someone or something perched on the rocks. You couldn’t see them from your position, but you could’ve sworn you saw their head turn toward you.

Something compelled you to move then.

Forgetting your shoes, you thrusted the door open and raced down the pathway that led to the beach, the little grey kitten moving quickly to follow behind you as you disappeared around the corner. Your heart raced in your chest, your heart propelling you forward as a voice thought, ‘Wait! Wait! Please, wait!’

By the time you got to the shoreline, the figure was gone from the rocks - the only thing that greeted you was an empty beach, the call of gulls, and the crashing of the waves before you. You wrapped your arms around you as you sighed heavily, eyes focusing on the horizon as the sun lifted itself above the surface, kissing the sky with its rays and warming your chilled skin as a cold sea breeze rattled your core. You licked your lips and strained your ears, hearing nothing by the cry of sea birds and the occasional meow of the little grey kitten at your feet.

As you felt your heart drop, your one chance for company that was human and someone that you did not know, a voice so hauntingly sweet called out - a song in a language from your dream. You turned and you felt yourself compelled forward, your feet disappearing into the waves of the ocean that were followed by your knees, thighs, and waist.

The sea always calls to those who feel lost and alone, wanting to fill the empty part of their soul until they are loved and full… and as such, it’s only fair that the strange creatures that live beneath its depths would want the same as well…

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #twst azul #twst floyd #twst jade #yandere jade leech #yandere floyd leech #yandere azul x reader #yandere jade x reader #yandere floyd x reader #yandere #yandere azul ashengrotto #twst wonderland

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month

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Good morning headmage

I was wondering if you and the other teachers went to the museum with your students this year to celebrate its 100th anniversary ?

If so what did you like there , do you have a favorite artwork ?

Have you been there before 👀?

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

"Why, of course we teachers accompanied our students to the Land of Dawning's National Museum of Art. It would be highly irresponsible of us to allow children to travel to a foreign land without chaperones!”

Crowley perked with pride. Prestige—the acknowledgement of it—tended to have that effect on him, pompous man that he was.

"Not to mention... It's an honor for us to be invited to this centennial celebration! This is a wonderful opportunity for us teachers to appreciate art alongside our young pupils—though I myself have already visited numerous times. Ah, but that is what a long lifespan and a deep respect for history does… Sharpens the mind and the spirit!”

Somehow he ended up circling around and feeding his own ego again.

You walked alongside him, tactfully staying silent and letting the headmaster ramble.

Famous faces passed by, relics of the past unearthed. Stories, centuries in the making. History coming to life around you.

Click, clack, click.

Crowley’s polished shoes and cane alternated, echoing sharply in the gallery.

“This solemn, almost reverent atmosphere is rather pleasing. It grants one the space and time to properly admire and reflect on the artwork on display.”

He raised a hand, his golden claw-shaped rings upon each finger shining under the museum’s lights. Crowley gestured to the paintings that lined the closest wall. You followed where he led your gaze.

Platinum frames, seven in total. Each held an illustration of a familiar figure—you recognized them from the stone statues lining Main Street.

“I find myself gravitating toward the classics. Perhaps I am sentimental, fufu. My bias is clear.”

The Queen of Hearts.

She looked on from up high, posed with a gavel behind a banister and flanked by card soldiers. Her face was kind and rounded, but her expression was stern. Hands folded in her lap and her hammer raised to deliver justice, she was the picture of dignified grace.

The King of Beasts.

He reclined in a dark cave, bones scattered around him. The King stood out from the others of his kind--body lanky, a scar knitting one eye, mane a deep black, and with an unmatched feline poise. He toyed with a skull in one paw, his mouth twisted into a contemplative smirk.

The Sea Witch.

She danced, tentacles curling, in an anemone garden, lilac arms outstretched to cuddle her beloved pets: two moray eels that adorned her arms like a living boa. Pinkish light spilled onto them, emanating from her bubbling cauldron. Another potion brewing to fulfill some poor, unfortunate soul's wish.

The Sorcerer of the Sands.

A thin man with a long face and a goatee pieced together a golden scarab, its light piercing the starry night. Particles of sand and glittering magic kicked up, scattering across his black and red robes. The wings of the scarab, flickering rapidly--as if about to take flight.

The Beautiful Queen.

She triumphantly held up a goblet of bubbling liquid, her radiant face reflected in it. High cheek bones, skin smooth as china, full lips, long lashes, a gown that clung to her hourglass figure. Her beauty was every bit as deadly as the poison in the glass.

The King of the Underworld.

He beamed in the painting, showing sharp teeth. Various tabletop games surrounded him, and he seemed to take great joy in maneuvering a chess piece across a board. No opponent was in view--the man was a lone player.

The Thorn Fairy.

She loomed in her spiked throne, her calm face cut severe by the gathering shadows and green candlelight. Briar crept around the tattered hem of her cloak, waiting for her next command. One word, and you felt as though they would come to life and rush at you.

The Great Seven together dominated the hallowed halls of the museum. In awe of them, you felt yourself shrink back. If was as though your body instinctively knew to kneel in the presence of such raw power.

Crowley, too, quietly bowed his head to the Seven. He held his top hat to his chest, his dark lips pursed into a serene smile.

"What visionaries! We must all strive to the same heights as they."

#twisted wonderland #twst #Dire Crowley #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Reader #self insert #Two Ravens at the Writing Desk

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hoeforhao · 10 months

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🪧. ⚜️ Eclipse ⚜️ Prologue // Wonwoo FF//

⸙͎ pairing: dad!wonwoo × fem!reader

⸙͎ synopsis: what happens when you meet your lover from your previous life, except this time he is a dad coupled with zero memories of you two.

⸙͎ genre: heavy angst, some fluff, reminiscing of memories, happy ending?

⸙͎warnings: war trauma, mention of death, ww2 era love, flashbacks, rebirth/reincarnation

⸙͎ word count: 437

⸙͎ author's note: hehe it's finally wonu month as well as mine!!! so this is my special series as a gift for both my and wonu's birthday♡

Lemme know if y'all want a happy ending or sad ending for this.

"Bubbles run fast, why are you tortoising through the hallway hmph" the little ball of joy kept dragging you down the gallery, galloping like an excited baby bunny, eager to introduce her favorite person with her other favorite human, a.k.a her father.

"I'm not an eleven year old, bursting with energy,kiddo like you Elara!!! Please run slow Ms" panting like a dog, you two finally reach the party venue, all decked up in peonies and gilded with stardust.

"There he is" one last swish from El and that's when your entire world stood still. A feline looking man, permed locks cascading down his forehead, face plastered with the biggest smile the world has ever witnessed while his eyes form the perfect cresents on the night sky of his temples.

I mean it's not that unnatural for women to be smitten by such beauty, right? But for you, he wasn't just another random nerdy looking man you've met on the streets, someone straight outta the books. No! H-he... he was your moon, one that eclipsed over your pain, your anger, your flaws and in return made you gleam the brightest in the galaxy.

☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.

"Wonu-yah quick quick close your eyes and make a wish" you tightly press his biceps while bringing both of your palms together to wish upon the falling star.

"Yah silly girl, you know i don't believe in these." a slight mocking smile leaves wonwoo's lips as his lightly pinches your mochi cheeks to break your concentration.

"Yeah yeah sure sure! Why would you even need to wish for something when you have everything" getting up from the boulder you two were sharing and straddling your way through the beachy sand, you stomp away all angry.

"Okay okay I'm sorry bubbles. Tell me what you wished for" a pair of soft yet firm hands entrap your body from behind, while a cute stubby nose rests on your shoulder.

"For you to hold my hand in every universe and lead me through it. For you to always come home to me ; and for you to entwine me in your orbit in every life" single drops of tears making it way down your cheeks as you hold wonwoo's hands in yours. "W-we won't ever part tracks right? I wanna see the beauty of this world with you, enjoy each and every element only if you're there to clasp me into your arms through everything; and then finally bloom together from the soil again."

"You'll always be the star to my moon, darling. Never alone never separated, always shining bright together."

Oh only if they knew....

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brandyllyn · 1 year

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This Time

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x f!reader [no use of y/n. 3POV]

Sequel to Next Time - but I think it works as a stand alone

Words: 2.8k

My Masterlist

Rated: Teen. Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff.

Smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt, Jack frowned at his reflection in the Bronco’s side mirror. The material was a soft grey, short-sleeved with pearl snap buttons. It was one of his favorites, good for a casual day out, having a beer with friends - a utilitarian shirt.

His frown deepened.

Making an effort to look away, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, trying to make the lean against the truck as casual as possible. Wear the same thing as last time, she’d said.

It wasn’t that Jack didn’t like surprises, he enjoyed them as much as the next person. He just liked to be informed, that was all. How could he protect people, do his job, if he didn’t have full information?

“Hey Jack.”

Her soft voice startled him out of his musings and he jerked his head up to see her. His mouth froze on his greetings, the words garbling in his throat.

Lord have mercy, she was wearing jeans. Jeans that looked like they had been painted on her, framing soft thighs and an ass he felt a sudden irresistible urge to bite. She had on a loose blouse with one of those camisoles with the thin straps underneath.

And she was smiling. At him.

The beauty of her knocked him on his ass and he completely missed his opportunity to meet her, to walk with her and open the car door like a gentleman. Instead he scrambled inside and flung himself across the bench seat, grabbing at the passenger door handle and giving her a sheepish smile as she slid inside.

“Lord, you’re pretty as a speckled pup.” She raised an eyebrow and he gave his head a sharp shake. “It’s a compliment.”

“Is it?”

Damn it to hell, how was he messing this up already? Again.

“It is,” he turned the key in the Bronco and set it to drive.

When she had offered to plan their second date, the old school gentleman in Jack had balked. He’d been raised to believe it was a man’s job to do the romancing. To plan the outings, pay for dinner, make the moves.

Then again, their first date had gone so poorly he hadn’t objected when she’d offered to plan their second. Only some of it had been his fault, in his defense. He couldn’t have done anything about the tornado.

“Where to, darlin’?”

“Head into town, then north on New Circle Road”

They chit chatted on the drive into Lexington, a little over an hour with light traffic. Plenty of time for Jack to learn more about her. She wanted a pet, but worried her job at Statesman would interfere. Never been married, although she made passing mention of a proposal that perked his ears. She asked him questions about his hobbies, and then made appropriate follow-up noises of appreciation about the Bronco when he said it was refurbishing older vehicles.

“It’s very shiny,” she smiled and he choked back a laugh. Maybe he should have mentioned his ever so slight obsession with World War II documentaries instead.

She gave no clues to where they were going, nodding slightly when he got off the highway onto Route 4 but aside from that remaining mum. When they turned on to the city streets north of town Jack almost asked but held his tongue. Stadium signs rose to their right as she directed him into a half empty parking lot. Even as they approached the stadium, he didn’t ask the question that bubbled in him. Not until she handed two construction paper tickets to an older lady and led him inside.

“Baseball?”

“The Lexington Legends,” she chirped back, slipping into the sparse crowd and looking back to see if he followed.

He did, his gait slipping into an easy saunter. Earlier, he’d have laid all his money they were going to a museum for the day. Maybe some kind of art gallery.

“Never figured you for a baseball fan.”

“I’m not really,” she shrugged, eyeing something over his shoulder as she came to a stop. “But this isn’t baseball. It’s minor league baseball.”

“Other than the obvious, what’s the difference?”

“Baseball is about the sport. It’s about winning and all that.” A soft aha noise left her and she grabbed his hand, slipping her fingers between his and dragging him to a vendor. “But minor league is about having fun. It’s a carnival with baseball as an excuse.”

Glancing up at the sign he smiled, “Funnel cake?”

“To start,” she answered with a decisive nod. “After that they have one of those things set up where you hit baseballs and win prizes.”

“A batting cage?” His interest was piqued.

“Yeah, that,” she said distractedly.

He didn’t have her attention. She was practically salivating as she gave her order, not just the cake but deep fried Coca Cola and a lemonade to go with it.

“Shouldn’t be possible to fry a liquid,” Jack mumbled, licking powdered sugar from his fingertips. “But damn if it ain’t good.”

She beamed back at him, reaching up and using her thumb to wipe at the corner of his mustache. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do.” He managed not to shiver at her touch - barely. “But I have to admit it’s not what I expected.”

“Well,” she turned her back to him, leading him to a nearly empty set of bleachers. “One of the times you were asking me out you mentioned going to the state fair. If I remember right you tried to lure me with fried Oreos.”

“I did,” he nodded.

“And I know you play on the distillery’s softball team so I figured it wouldn’t be the most boring venue.”

Staring at the first baseman, Jack tapped the heel of his boot on the steel bleacher. “That was pretty astute of you.” Ducking her head she concentrated on their food and Jack eyed the field. “You rootin’ for anyone in particular?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. I don’t even know who the teams are.”

Shutting his eyes for a moment Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Are you telling me, sugar, that you brought me to a baseball game solely for the food?”

“Well, I brought me solely for the food. But I thought you might like the game.”

“You are…” he searched for the word. Finally he settled on a huff of laughter, sliding the funnel cake from her hands and ignoring her protests. He leaned over and pressed his nose to her shoulder, “… somethin’ else.”

“Is that good?” She asked, one hand snaking over to his lap and the fried strings of dough. He picked one up instead, straightening and holding it out to her.

“Is to me.”

The Legends were playing a good game - relying a bit too much on a strong pitcher in Jack’s opinion, half the team couldn’t bat for shit - but he didn’t protest when his companion tugged on his arm in the third inning with a pleading look in her eye.

“Pickles?”

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “Fried?”

“Of course.”

“Lead the way.”

It was probably coincidence that the vendor was right next to the batting cage. And Jack couldn’t resist those pretty eyes when she bit her lip and glanced over at the stuffed animals hanging from the fence.

“Want me to win you one, sugar?”

“You think you can?” she asked with a tease on her voice.

He hummed an affirmative, rolling his shoulder under his shirt. It ached sometimes after the distillery league games, but it had been fine lately, certainly fine enough to knock out a couple homers and get the purple dog looking thing she was staring at.

“What do I get?”

She tapped her lip thoughtfully at the question. “Third date?”

“Deal,” he said quickly, pulling out a five and handing it to the guy without preamble. Her giggle followed him and he gave the bat a trial swing before setting his stance.

Crack.

The first ball was a foul, sailing almost straight up and into the tarp. Jack jumped back to avoid being brained and grunted. He’d gotten used to the underhand throws of the softball league. He’d need to re-evaluate.

Whiff.

Fuck, he hadn’t even touched the second. He felt the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment and took a swing at the third. It felt solid as it connected, a low hit midway down the far tarp. A solid hit in a real game, but not enough to read as a home run in the cage.

He had another five in his hand before the ball stopped rolling “Again.”

Another foul.

And another.

A low drive to a non-existent third baseman.

“Again.”

“Jack,” her voice sounded too soft and he didn’t look at her.

Two hits and a miss, one that should have been a home run but the damn game clocked it as a triple and Jack gritted his teeth against the argument that rose in his throat.

“Jack, come here.”

Shoulders sagging he turned to the fence, taking a step to it and frowning. “Sugar I-“

“A kiss.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Win me the dragon and you get a kiss.”

He blinked again and darted his eyes to the purple stuffed animal. Is that what it was? A dragon?

Wait.

A teasing smile pulled the corners of her lips up, a touch of powdered sugar still dusting the lower one. She’d be sweet, he knew that. And soft.

“Hell yeah,” he muttered, thumbing another bill at the kid running the cage. The prize wasn’t worth twenty bucks but that wasn’t the point.

Crack.

Three home runs, a light and siren going off each time.

She looked skeptical. “Did you batting cage shark me?”

“Did I what?” he spluttered, pointing at the largest version of the dragon for the worker.

“Batting cage shark, like a pool shark. Pretend to be bad so I’d offer you something?”

“Yes…?” he said slowly, drawling the word out and squinting slightly. It was a better explanation than anything he had. He handed the stuffed animal over, taking the nearly gone pile of fried food from her.

She frowned as she wrapped her arms around the ridiculously large toy. After a moment her face broke into a grin. “Liar.”

“I simply lacked proper motivation.”

Shifting the toy in her embrace she leaned towards him. “Are you going to collect?”

He traced his eyes over her face and settled a hand at the base of her spine. “Later.”

The spluttering sound she made at that warmed his heart.

“I’m assuming we don’t have dinner plans?” Jack asked as he held open the Bronco door for her. He took the dragon from her with one hand, patting her thigh slightly as she buckled in.

“Are you still hungry?” she responded incredulously.

Grinning, he leaned into the back of the truck, setting the plush down and pulling one of the lap belts across it. “Not a bit, I was just checking.” Dragon secured, he slipped into the front seat. “Where next?”

He didn’t expect it to be a bar, a dive bar at that. She was a fancy gal - she’d shown for their first date in a pencil skirt and heels for Christ’s sake. Then again, the last time he’d told her he was going to ‘Show her the town,’ so maybe that was just a miscommunication.

“You dance?” he asked after they got their drinks, leaning in a dark corner a little away from the speakers.

“A little,” she shrugged. “Never had much of a chance to learn.”

“Not interested?”

“Two left feet.” She laughed and he shifted closer. “It’s also a lot to keep track of. Counting, which direction to go…”

“You ever have a good partner?”

Without giving her a chance to answer, Jack swung her into an easy two-step, the live band doing a passable cover of an old George Strait song. She stumbled at first, but he kept a steady hand on her shoulder blade, giving the direction she needed to match his movements.

“Quick, quick, slow slow,” he muttered down to her helpfully and she glared back up at him.

Despite his teasing, she followed him like a dream, letting him guide her in a large circle around the floor. There was no looking behind her, no fighting him. With the gentlest pressure from him she turned slightly, keeping the rhythm and facing forward by his side, their interlinked arms ahead of them.

“You’re a natural,” he smiled, guiding her into a turn so she was facing him again.

“You’re a good teacher,” she smiled back. He kept an eye on their drinks, making sure no one messed with them, but that only took about 5% of his concentration. The rest he could focus on the woman in his arms. She was settled into his embrace like they’d done this a hundred times before, his fingers spread behind one shoulder while he traced his thumb over her other hand. He knew the song was ending soon and he gave a silent prayer for another two-step.

Instead, a car engine revved and a twangy guitar intro followed. One any cowboy worth his salt would recognize, and he smiled. “Ever line danced?”

A shake of her head and his smile turned into a grin. “I’ll show you.”

It should have been easy, this one was a classic for a reason. A simple grapevine, a toe tap or two, some clapping and a booty shake.

She was hopeless at it.

“No that way,” he huffed, turning her waist with one hand.

“One, one-two, one, one-two” he tried to help out as she double tapped and looked lost.

The third time she spun into him he gave up, pulling her close. “You weren’t kidding about those two left feet.”

“I told you-“

He shushed with her a turn, swinging her out of the way of the other dancers and back to their waiting drinks. “I thought that was modesty.”

She snorted, stirring her drink with a straw.

He did eventually manage to get her through the electric slide, but they did much better in the partner dances. Jack didn’t mind, any excuse to get his hands on her was welcome.

It was raining by the time they left, rushing to the Bronco while Jack tried to hold his hat over her head. They were laughing when the doors shut and he did his best to ignore how the water made her blouse stick to her skin.

“Home then?”

A nod and he shifted into gear. He jumped in surprise when her hand slipped into his, drifting up to cradle his forearm when he needed it to change gears. He liked it, even though her fingers were cold, and once they got on the highway he entangled their fingers together and chatted about absolutely nothing.

She was sleepy by the time they got back to the compound, leaning back in her sleep and fighting to keep her eyes open. He shut the truck off, frowning when her hand slipped away after he was forced to let it go.

“I’ll walk you up.”

“You’re not going to claim that kiss?” she asked with a small frown and pout.

“Nah.” With one hand he swept his hat off, turning and settling it in the backseat. “I figure I’ll save it.”

“Save it for what?”

“Third date,” he informed her with a grin. “And my second chance.”

A soft smile came over her face and Jack couldn’t help but press his fingertips to her jaw, rubbing his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “But Lord you do make a man think twice about his convictions.”

“Oh do I?” A sly, sultry look replaced the shy one. “Maybe your convictions are in the wrong place.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his thumb slipping down to trace her lips. “You’re enough to tempt a saint to sin.”

Her laughter warmed him, and his focus was so pinpointed on her smile that he missed that it was moving closer until it was almost a surprise when those smiling lips were pressed to his.

Lord he was right, she was sweet. And soft. Her mouth brushing over his with the barest of pressure. A groan escaped him, one hand clenching in the hair behind her neck. He wouldn’t push, he wouldn’t. But if she wanted to rub that body of hers against his and lick at the seam of his mouth who was he to deny her?

They were both panting when she broke away, and Jack’s jeans were fitting a bit tighter than normal.

“Next Saturday?”

“Tomorrow.” The word choked out of him and he winced. “Don’t make me wait a week to see you again, sugar.”

“Brunch?”

Yeah. Yeah he could do brunch.

“My place?”

In her house? Where her bed was?

Ain’t no way he would survive that.

“How bout we go out somewhere? You got any pretty Sunday dresses?”

The smile she gave him was dazzling, and a little mischievous. “I think I have something.”

Lord have mercy, what had he gotten himself into now?

For updates on stories please follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

Songs from the saloon: George Strait - I Just Wanna Dance With You Brooks and Dunn - Boot Scootin' Boogie

#jack 'whiskey' daniels #kingsman #kingsman fanfiction #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you

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uglypastels · 2 years

Text

Twitterpated // modern!Eddie Munson x reader

You keep on encountering the same stranger while waiting in line for the Disneyland rides. It's almost too much of a coincidence, in fact. You find each other in the crowds time after time and eventually, as the day progresses, sneaky glances evolve into more.

word count: 6k

no explicit warnings. swearing. mention of alcohol and recreational drugs. mention of public urination. a bunch of children (it's Disney). fluff. animatronic gore. rollercoasters. (Not entirely proofread, I'm too excited).

masterlist // join taglist // inbox. this story is a part of my 7k fic event!

You're walking along minding your own business, you're looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when all of the sudden, you run smack into a pretty face. You begin to get weak in the knees, your head's in a whirl! And then you feel light as feather, and before you know it you're walking on air! And then you know what? You're knocked for a loop! And you completely lose your head!"

- Bambi (1942)

There is such a thing as love at first sight. But it doesn't go much further beyond that. That initial glance is all it takes, and it's all that there is to it. You could look at someone for a second, and your heart would speed up with excitement. Then they would walk away, never to be seen again, leaving your heart to falter slowly back to normal. It is a rush that could happen anywhere. At the airport, in a museum gallery, on a busy street… the waiting line for Space Mountain.

That's where you saw him, and your heart did that happy skip around in your chest. Your cheeks flushed hot when he looked your way, but then the line moved on, and it was your turn for the ride, and the moment passed.

He was never to be seen again, lost in the crowd.

That is what was supposed to happen.

The reality turned out to be vastly different. The sun was beaming down at the crowd of people waiting in line– the children excited for their first experience of going on a rollercoaster; the exhausted parents who try to keep said children at bay (and fail); the drunk bachelorette parties, matching shirts to boot; the drunken parties of friends laughing and having the best of time despite everyone else around.

You were nearly a part of that last category, for your friends, and you had not gotten to that state of drunkenness just yet. Having a long day ahead, you decided to leave the smuggled-in alcohol for later in the afternoon, letting yourself enjoy the magic of the theme park sober for now. And it was more than plenty, as a day with your best friends was never dull.

It had been a trip planned out for months, and everything was going just as you had hoped. The weather was lovely, if not a bit too warm, and the number of people was not too bad, with the rides having all very reasonable waiting times. That is how you ended up standing in line for Space Mountain for a second time that day, because how could you refuse to go when the waiting time was announced as only 15 minutes!?

Your group walked through the empty queue area, skipping past the designating aisle posts because who walks over the entire path when there are no people in sight for another mile? With each step, the excitement of reaching the ride was bubbling up in you once again, never having failed you before, as it just crept up in your stomach as you waited to step into the seat of whatever attraction you were waiting for each time.

All of you were grinning, walking down the steps into the boarding area, telling the cast member just how big your party was to be assigned your seats in the cart and how convenient it was that you were the first passengers to be seated on the next train.

'Would you guys like the front or back seats?' A slightly tired employee asked, but still keeping up their flawless smile for you all.

'Back,' one of your friends answered, 'everyone knows the back goes the fastest.' If that was true or just a placebo, no one was quite certain about it, but being in the front had little effect since the ride was set entirely indoors and in the dark. The employee smiled and sent the six of you to the gates of the furthest cart.

Not much later, the other slots were filled with waiting passengers, and the rollercoaster train grumbled up to the waiting ports. Even if you hadn't been on the ride before, having experienced the shock of being pushed and moved around that speed, you would be able to predict just what you were getting yourself in for by the sight of the people you would be replacing the ride. Rows of people, eyes were blown wide open, hair pushed back wildly. Finally, the safety braces opened and pulled up, releasing everyone to get back onto the steady ground.

You had just been waiting for the kids in your seats to get out, laughing only a little at seeing them struggle to climb out of the deep-set seats, when your friend Rina nudged you.

'Don't look, but that hot guy with the incredible hair I tried to point out to you earlier just stepped out.' So, of course, the first thing you did was look around for this man. Your eye caught the sight of two guys who had stepped out of the seats a bit in front of the ones you were supposed to be taking. One of them, with brown hair, which was indeed to die for, was helping the other to get out of the dark abyss of a pit that was these Space Mountain train carts.

'How do people like that just go about and exist?' she asked you, somewhat rhetorically, as the little gate in front of you opened, and you were allowed to take your seats. Both of you were still looking at the passengers who had left the ride. He was indeed, like your friend had explained, hot. He had his long brown hair wrapped up in a ponytail, which could have been an old attempt at a bun. You hadn't gotten a good look at his face or what he had been wearing, but you saw the vintage T that had become a patch for his denim jacket– sleeveless, revealing the short sleeves of whatever shirt he was wearing underneath and the tattoos that covered his arms. You had almost forgotten to pull the safety brace down and would have certainly left it up if it wasn't for the impatient cast member who pushed it down onto you.

'Oh, I've seen him before,' you smiled, recognising the guy from a few hours ago.

'What? So you had seen him when I told you to look at him?' Rina sighed, her eyes right there with you, possibly objectifying the shit out of some stranger.

'Yeah, apparently, unless you meant some other metalhead?' It was definitely a statement he was making with his look, but you couldn't deny it; he looked good doing it. But perhaps it was not who your friend had meant.

'What are you talking about?' she nearly shouted as the carts started moving into the tunnel. You gave each other weird looks.

'The hot guy you told me to look at– ?' a few more seconds, you would be sent up into space at an impossible speed, where no words would be able to be articulated besides your screams, so the conversation was paused at a short intermission. Still, you were right back at it once it was time for you to climb out of the seats.

Standing on the solid ground felt weird, as your body was still adjusting from the wild ride, and walking out of the building down the small path to the photobooth felt as if you were walking on a waterbed, all wobbly and disorientating.

'So who were you talking about?' you asked Rina, walking side by side, surrounded by the rest of your friend group who had, of course, quickly caught up on the topic of conversation being held.

'The guy in the windbreaker, puffy hair, kinda had that 80's movies prep boy/jock/bully thing going on, but in a cute way,' she explained as you reached the wall of pictures that were taken while you were speeding a million miles an hour down the rails of the rollercoaster. A wave of laughter burst out through all of you, and someone pulled their phone out to take a picture of the screen (ignoring the large "no photos" watermark labelled over it) before moving on to your next destination.

'Oh, the guy that struggled to get out of the cart? No, I thought you meant his friend. The one that pulled him out.'

'With the long hair?' she looked over at you, surprised but understanding. 'I guess he was cute too, yeah– So, wait, where had you seen him before?'

'Right at the entrance,' you reminded her. 'He was the guy that I bumped into.' It was a moment pulled straight out of a rom-com. Blinded by the childish excitement inside you at the sight of the pink castle in the distance as you walked down Main Street, you hadn't realised that the guy was standing right in front of you. Your chest crashed into his side, startling both of you. He had smiled sheepishly, asking if you were alright, to which you could only respond with a nod, too mesmerised by his eyes– big, brown and sweet like–

'That was Bambi Eyes!' Matt shouted out, catching everyone around you (even the families a few feet away) off guard. Rina stared at you in bewilderment. While your Prince Charming had occupied you, she has found her own as well– Mr 80s Prep Jock. What a coincidence that the two of them happened to be friends. Maybe you would have noticed it if you hadn't been too focused on finding the love of your life.

Temporary, of course, as he had disappeared in the crowd as fast as he had shown up. There had been another small exchange of smiles before you were pulled away by your friends, and when you had looked back, poof, just like magic, he was gone.

And that would have been a first clumsy encounter, and a few giggles and jokes amongst friends, just to be quickly disregarded for whatever else came up in the conversations as the day progressed. Hell, you would have probably forgotten all about both men by the end of the day, if it wasn't for the fact that you would see them again.

After lunchtime, your group decided to go on what was undoubtedly the most terrifying ride in the park– Pinnochio's Daring Journey. And the nightmares already started in the line. As it was a ride intended for the younger visitors of the park (even though you could not imagine how the animatronics would not traumatise the living hell out of any 5-year-old), the queueing area was packed full with families and children, all louder than the next one.

'You know, I swear, one time I was here, a kid peed himself in the middle of the line.' Matt said, getting smacked on the back of the head by Joey.

'Why would you say that, now I feel like I can actually smell the piss.' Luckily, you had a bucket of cotton candy to enjoy and share with Rina and Molly. Fingers sticky from the sugary goodness, laughing as your friends argued about more disgusting topics, your eye caught the sight of a black t-shirt that would have made you do a spit take if you had been drinking.

The black fabric made the white letters stand out even more, with the classic Disney font spelling out "Daddy". If it had been a father of 3 crying children and a wife, all wearing matching shirts, you would have cringed, but this shirt belonged to no one else but Bambi Eyes. How you hadn’t noticed it when you bumped into him went beyond you, but it was surprisingly pleasant enough.

He walked into the line with his friends and a few families between you. Another addition to his outfit, you noticed, was the mickey ears sticking out from his wild hair. As he and his friends settled in at the end of the queue, he draped his arm over a girl; her short hair tussled messily. You felt a pull at your chest, which was dumb because you didn't even know the guy. You felt even weirder when that tension released as you saw her push him off of her—clearly, just a platonic relationship.

'You're staring,' Molly whispered to you as the line moved a little bit.

'No, I'm not.' you made it a point to stare deep down into your bucket of cotton candy. 'I was just… observing.'

'You were eating that man alive!' Joey shouted, catching everyone's attention. 'But I do get it, I mean, look at him– oof.' They whistled, peeping a glance over at your mystery man.

'No, no. None of that, Joe.’

‘So you wouldn’t jump his bones if you had the chance?’ They smirked, and you glanced back at the guy for some reason. He was facing away from you, but even through the crowd, you heard him laugh at something one of his friends said. Fuck, why did he have such a nice laugh? You quickly turned back to your own group.

‘I don’t even know him. For all I know, he might be some creep or into some weird cult shit, but I don’t even know why we’re talking about this because it doesn’t matter.’ He was a good-looking stranger in the sea of millions of other good-looking strangers. You just happened to have seen him a few times that day, but that would be it. Soon you would forget about him, and some other person would come along to steal your heart for the day.

The queue moved up again. You handed the cotton candy to Rina, and as you did, you noticed something that made your heart sink to your stomach.

‘Fuck,’ you exclaimed, pissing off some parents around you in the process. ‘Did anyone see my bracelet?’ It was a thin little band with gold accents, secured by a metal clasp which you had to spend a long time on assuring yourself was tight enough so it wouldn’t fall off– and yet, it happened. How long had it been since it fell? Was it somewhere in line here or somewhere else in the park? As did your friends, you started looking around yourself frantically, hoping to find it.

‘Hey, is this yours?’ you looked up from the ground to where the voice came from. A hand stuck out above the heads of people waiting, and in its grasp– your bracelet.

‘Oh my god, yes, thank you!’ you jumped up and pushed your way through the families to him. Because, as your luck would have it, it was Bambi Eyes who had found your bracelet and handed it to you. ‘Thanks,’ you said again, this time much softer, bashful.

‘Yeah, no problem,’ he said. You tried to take all of him in as you were finally in his vicinity, noticing the small details about him. The large rings on his fingers, the pins of all the bands your parents made you listen to on long car journeys– but one pin stood out, as it wasn’t Judas Priest or W.A.S.P., but it was a glittery Haunted Mansion pin, right over his chest pocket. ‘You know, maybe this isn’t the most convincing thing to say, but I promise I’m not a creep or into any weird cult stuff.’

His wink sent you spinning faster than the Mad Hatter’s Tea Cups, and you felt yourself wanting to burst out in laughter and tears.

‘Oh my god, I can’t believe you heard that– I’m so sorry.’ Your fight or flight senses kicked in from the embarrassment. As words failed you to say anything else quippy or flirty, you just turned around and quickly pushed your way back through the queue to your friends, who were all staring at you… before eventually laughing in your face.

You had hoped dearly that that was where the embarrassment had ended for the day. The knowledge of a stranger having heard your friends talking about you potentially wanting to hook up with him in Disneyland was mortifying. But then the Pirates of the Caribbean line turned out to only be 10 minutes… and how could you say no to that? Otherwise, you would all have been on your way to the parade, but no, this was much more important, and you were making your way through the dark tunnels that the line area consisted of. As the fake Caribbean climate caught up to you, the smell of the chlorine getting stronger and stronger, the movie soundtrack music (or had it been here before the movies already?) playing through the invisible speakers somewhere above you. None of you could help but sing along to the melody, obnoxiously and off-key, as it should be done when with your best friends.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for-

‘Is that Bambi Eyes?’ Matt said, making all of you stop singing and look around for the not-so-unfamiliar stranger. ‘Ah it is!’ It was undeniably his messy ponytail and mickey ears sticking out above the crowd in the dark corridor. He wasn’t looking in your direction, and yet you tried your best to hide behind Rina and Molly the entire time until you reached the “dock” of the ride.

It was, like estimated, a short waiting time for the ride, and it was only sped up by the fact that eventually, the line splits into two, so two boats can be filled up with passengers simultaneously. To your horror, somehow, more people had decided to enter the left queue, while your friend group had joined the right one. This left only one family between you and Bambi Eyes and his friends. He was talking to one of them when he saw you. His grin immediately widened.

You didn’t know how many people were in front of you and if everyone would fit into the boat, but unfortunately, they did. And you found yourself sitting right behind dear Bambi Eyes. Just as long as he kept looking ahead of you–

‘Still got your bracelet?’ he said, turning around to face you seconds before the boat started moving. You stared blankly at him.

‘Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I do. Just put it in my bag for now.’

‘Good.’ That was the only thing he said before turning back around, nudging one of his friends who leaned in to whisper something.

Usually, you couldn’t stand it when people talked too loudly throughout the rides, but when he started calling out the animal animatronics, it was too cute not to laugh with it.

‘Dog!’ He pointed out as the boat made its way through the scenery. ‘Donkey!’

‘You missed the chickens,’ you said, more to yourself, but he heard you. You could tell by how he tensed up for a moment.

‘Heard that, Harrington, I missed the chickens. We’ll have to go again.’ He said as he stepped out of the boat by the end of the ride. This Harrington– Rina's 80s Prep Jock Boy Wet Dream— had been sitting in the row in front of him and just rolled his eyes.

His eyes lingered over you as the corners of his mouth pulled into a simple smile. When your eyes met, he dared to wink playfully, but through his flirtatious playfulness, he had forgotten entirely about the fact that he was standing in the middle of the exit, holding the stream of people up. His friend patted him on the shoulder, "C'mon, Munson, let's get a move on."

Munson. It must be his last name; it suited him, but you couldn’t lie; Bambi Eyes would stay your preferred nickname for him. You watched him follow his friends out of the ride's building, right to one of the gift shops. It had been your goal to ignore him while you looked around at all the merch together with Molly and Joey, but it was hard to focus when this guy, a stranger and yet not, was goofing around with a plastic sword. You must have been staring, for he caught on, winking at you as he put the toy back in its place.

That surely must have been it, you thought, dragging yourself out of the store before you lost all self-control and spent all your money on useless knickknacks. There was no way you would run into him again. How many times could it happen before it started to get weird, or had it reached that point already? Or maybe it was some trick the universe was playing on you? Pulling you and “Bambi Eyes” Munson together on repeat.

Even with that thought going through you, you were still surprised as you were hiking up the short walk to Big Thunder Mountain. The sun was starting to set, illuminating the large manufactured mountain of Frontierland in a golden glow, which felt like a perfect ambience for it, especially with the western music following you around. Although your feet had already started to hurt hours ago, the day was far from finished, and the energy in your little group had not staggered or descended.

‘Ah, look who it is!’ Rina said, nearly jumping up and down in excitement as you were still trying to reach the end of the line. You turned around, and your eyes almost popped out of your head. It wasn’t possible.

There they were again. The group of people that had somehow become an integral part of your trip and at the head of their parade: Munson.

‘We saw you guys go in and thought, this is too good to miss out on.’ He walked straight up to you. ‘And I thought it was finally time for a proper introduction– I’m Eddie.’ Before introducing yourself, he extended his hand to you, which you took happily, but also shyly. His grip on your hand was solid, but still gentle. You would have never stopped holding it if it hadn’t been entirely and extremely weird to do so.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Eddie– it felt strange knowing his full name now, Eddie Munson– but anyway, Eddie cleared his throat, taking a step back. What followed was an awkward introduction round of your and his friends, polite hand waves and a call round of names until all 12 of you decided to get a move on and finally attach to the end of the long line waiting on top of the small hill. The train of the rollercoaster roared by as it halted around the corner.

‘So, how’s your day been?’ Eddie asked, leaning over on the railing separating the waiting lines.

‘Oh it’s been great, but I have kept seeing this one annoying guy– so weird, I swear it’s like he was stalking me or something.’ As soon as you said it, you got scared, hoping he would understand you were joking and that he would appreciate it. Fortunately, you didn’t have to suffer too long, because Eddie immediately started laughing his amazing laugh.

‘Yeah I know what you mean, I’ve felt like someone’s been looking at me ever since I got here… lucky my stalker’s cute tho.’

‘Mine isn’t too bad either,’ you admitted, too shy to be able to look at him, instead opting for the decorations around you– it really almost felt like you were put in a 200-year-old gold mine. The queue moved up a few paces.

‘That’s good to hear.’ He said, following you. Both your groups had kind of merged together as you saw your friends talk to his– and, to no one’s surprise probably, Rina had scooped up this Harrington guy to talk to, flirting with him with no shame.

‘So where are you guys from?’ you asked out of curiosity, hoping it wouldn’t sound too creepy—more in the ice-breaking category than the boundary-breaking.

‘Indiana. We’ve come to visit Jonnie Boy and Argyle, they live not far from here.’ He pointed with his chin at two of his friends, who he had introduced a moment ago to you. You looked at the two guys, who must not be much into rollercoasters as you had not seen them with the rest of their group every time before… or maybe they had occupied themselves in different ways. ‘Yeah,’ Eddie chuckled, ‘I’m pretty sure they had gone on It’s a Small World at least five times after smoking a blunt after breakfast.’

‘That’s what they were humming, thank you,’ you grabbed onto his arm, laughing, finally recognising the melody that Argyle was singing to himself while in conversation with your friend Joey. Realising what you were doing, you quickly let go of Eddie. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s all good,’ he smiled. The line moved up a bit again.

‘So, weed, huh… I’m not sure Mickey would approve,’ you said once the line stopped again. By this point, you have no idea how dozens of people had joined the line behind you. You never knew how it happened or where those people came from… the line grew and grew.

‘Oh you haven’t lived if you’re scared of what an old rat will think.’

‘No, I’m actually jealous I didn’t think of that. All we got was some cheap vodka that Matt hussled inside in his underwear.’

‘Well, that’s disgusting, but commendable.’ Eddie winced at the idea of underwear vodka, and you had to agree. It wasn’t the finest of plans.

The wait was slow, and in the building that had you nearly packed like cattle together with hundreds of other people, it wasn’t the most pleasant of waiting times, but your company made up for all of it. You had your great friends, and now the new addition of Eddie and his group, the time passed by much faster. The 45 minutes only felt like… 30, max. Bit by bit, you moved along to the end, where your two groups divided back into their original formats to get into the carts. Even though you were separated from Eddie by a few seats, you still heard him shout out “Donkey!” when you drove by the animatronic at high speed.

When you got out, the ground was still shaking underneath you. Molly followed you out of the cart, and you were giggling all the way down to the photo booth, where the picture was worth an illegal photo but not the amount of money they asked for. You laughed at your own wild expression, and of course, at your friends, and then you glanced over to the screen next to it to see your new acquaintances. Eddie was sitting in the top left seat, tongue out with purposefully wild eyes, and hand up in that Rock sign of the horns gesture.

‘Like what you see?’

You jumped up at the close proximity of where Eddie’s voice came from. Then, turning around, it was confirmed that he was only a few inches away from you, his face practically leaning on your shoulder.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘Why do I feel like that’s not entirely true,’ you glared at him playfully.

‘That might be true.’ He shrugged, then spoke up to the rest of your group, ‘we were going to the Haunted Mansion next, wondered if you guys would like to join.’

‘Absolutely!’ Molly chimed in, speaking for all of you, but luckily you had all been thinking the same. It was so strange how quickly you could make friends without even really trying because, by the time you all arrived at the bottom of the hill on which the old-looking house stood, it felt like everyone had been best pals for years. The chatter came naturally and fluently to everyone, and there was so much gleeful laughter. The personalities and hobbies fit together well; it was a little miracle.

‘This your favurite ride?’ you asked Eddie as you walked past the old fountain, the bottom of it filled with pennies and other foreign coins.

‘I know I’m not the hardest to read, but what gave that away?’

You simply pointed at his pin, which was the shape of the house you were about to enter.

‘Ah, right.’ he just laughed, ‘you got me there, I suppose.’

‘I like all the other pins as well, by the way,’ you told him, taking another glance at them, ‘although, I’ll have to admit, I’m not sure I know that one.’ you pointed at one of the pins, which was primarily white except for the black letters that had a messy, almost marker scratching kind of font which had “Corroded Coffin” written out on it.

‘Ah yeah, well, they’re not that known, so I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of them,’ if any other guy would have said that, you would have gotten a solid urge to punch them in the face, but the way Eddie spoke made you think there was a bit more to it, you fought the urge a little and gave him a chance. ‘But before you check them out, just know, the lead guitarist is a bit of a dickhead.’

‘Oh?’ you were intrigued, ‘how so?’

‘Yeah, I mean, he’s been seeing this really cute girl all over Disneyland the entire day and still didn’t ask her for her number. Big loser, if you ask me.’

He left you speechless for a moment, and the heat was creeping up your cheeks again, which he apparently took great pride in and enjoyed. And, like a dummy, when you found your words again, all you could manage to say was: ‘you’re in a band?’ and it was a question covered up in a spark of zest.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He crossed his arms lightly, ‘we’ve recorded a few songs, and been playing in this shitty little bar on the outskirts of town, for an audience of about… five drunks.’

‘Hey, now, last time there were at least seven.’

‘Thank you, Steve,’ Eddie sighed, bemused, then turned back to you, ‘Sorry. Seven drunks.’

‘Sounds like quite the party.’ You tried to play it cool, not letting Eddie know that all your mind was filled with were thoughts of what he looked like on stage playing the guitar. Just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter…

Entering the Haunted Mansion was done in large groups, sorted by a cast member at the door, who counted the people, almost randomly, it seemed, until they held up their hand in front of someone and then would close the doors, locking in everybody inside in total darkness.

Then a second door opened, letting you inside a hexagonal room with tall walls, atop which hung four paintings. A voice above you spoke:

Welcome, foolish mortals, to the Haunted Mansion. I am your host, your ghost host. Kindly step all the way in, please, and make room for everyone. There’s no turning back now. Our tour begins here in this gallery, where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appear in their corruptible, mortal state.

The floor beneath you started slowly sinking as the elevator mechanics did their job, leading you down into the basement where the ride actually started. As the floor sank, the paintings elongated, showcasing the full images– the simple and normal-looking portraits turned out to be horror (to a Disney extent) scenes, of people nearing their deaths. A man revealed to be standing atop of a pile of dynamite; a lady balancing on a tightrope above an alligator, gaping jaw right below her; a man sitting on the shoulders of a man seated on top of a third man who was sinking in quicksand; a woman atop a gravestone, under which a man’s stone bust was revealed– a hatchet embedded in its head. It would all seem terrifying if it wasn’t for the somewhat comedic painting style the artist had chosen for the scenes. It felt too cartoony to be evoking nightmares (unlike that damn Pinocchio ride).

The creepy voice continued:

And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows and no doors… which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out! (Laughs.) Of course, there’s always my way.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and thunder clapped above you, revealing a corpse dangling above you in the ceiling (all fake, obviously). You had known it would be coming, and yet still, it took you by surprise. Thankfully, you weren’t the only one in the room to have screamed, but you did do something else very embarrassing. You had reached out to who you thought was Rina or Molly, maybe even Matt… but no, the arm you had grabbed on tightly to was Eddie. And you had only realised this once the lights turned on and the invisible door opened up. You saw how the arm you held was covered in tattoos unknown to you, and following it up to the shoulders, you saw the denim vest and the long hair up in the messy ponytail and his Bambi eyes…

‘Sorry,’ you pulled your hand away. ‘I uh-’ you had nothing to say for yourself. That had been pathetic. But the people were moving so slow out of the room that you had no way to escape it.

‘Don’t worry about it. I really didn’t mind it.’ he spoke so genuinely, it made your heart melt. But then one of his friends, Nancy, you think her name was, if you remember correctly, pulled him to her side, trying to make sure all of their group was together, as it could be quite easy to get lost in the dim light. Unfortunately, Rina did the same to you, and so you didn’t see the others until the end of the ride when you were blinded by the setting sun as you left the darkness of the Haunted Mansion.

At first, you were scared that he had disappeared again, and you were scared that that would be it. The day was coming closer and closer to an end, and you could not be sure how long this magic that was put on the two of you would last. That could have easily been the last time you would see him, and you had messed it up so terribly…

But no! Fortunately, they were all still outside the Mansion, chatting, maybe planning on what to do next.

‘Eddie!’ you shouted, immediately regretting it as everyone’s eyes were on you as you made your way down to them.

‘Hey, uhm…hi.’

‘Hi,’ he said back, a bit confused, clearly.

‘I uhh– I don’t want that guitarist to be a total dickhead.’ Would he know where you were going with this? You really hoped so. ‘So, if you still want it, I’d like to give you my number.’

His whole face lit up in enthusiasm at your suggestion. A bit clumsily, he pulled out his phone, the screen barely usable under all the cracks, but he still managed to pull up the contact page. ‘Here,’ he said, the word almost hidden under his giant grin. He handed you the phone for you to type in your name and number. You gave him back the phone and watched as he typed, just for you to feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket a few seconds later. From his eager look, you assumed it would be his text, and indeed– when you checked it, there was a message from an unknown number.

Never before had a two-letter text made you smile that much, and you controlled your giddiness as you saved Eddie’s number, also knowing that he was looking at you intently, taking in every move you made, ready to tease you for something that was most definitely tease-worthy.

You also sent him a text back.

As much as you would have wanted just to stay there and chat with him longer, you were both holding up your respective friend groups in limbo and standing in the middle of the path where people were trying to get through. It was all quite unfavourable.

‘I guess I’ll see you around, Princess,’ he said, walking backwards, already pocketing his phone back into his jeans.

‘Uhm, yeah, I guess you will.’ After so many times it having already happened, you couldn’t imagine this being the last time you saw Eddie Munson. Well, now, with you having each other’s numbers, that was entirely out of the question. Because even though you would not see him for the rest of the evening and night, your phone kept buzzing with text messages, which you were more than happy to respond to, as fast as possible… much to your friends’ annoyance.

But they couldn’t blame you. This was Disneyland, for fucks sake, the place where fairytales come true.

the end

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violettduchess · 11 months

Note

🎉🎊🎉 1K!!! 🎉🎊🎉

I'm so happy for you!!!!! You deserve all the love and admiration, my dear. Not only is your writing fantastic, you're sweet and I definitely consider you a friend of mine here. I appreciate you 💕

Now... could I request Theo and kissing to prove a point for your 1k celebration? I feel that's very him haha.

A/N: Here you are, @yarnnerdally 💜

Theo x f reader

Prompt: A Kiss to Prove a Point

Word Count: 1203

It has taken days of planning and many sleepless nights, but now you are finally done. The petite art gallery on the west side of Paris is decorated with elegant floral garlands and soft, twinkling fairy lights, all highlighting the theme of the collection: Romance. You’re tired, but it is a satisfied kind of tired, the kind that settles into your muscles and bones like a lioness sinking down onto the soft Savannah earth after a rewarding hunt. The artist behind the collection had been no one, just another street painter trying to sell his offerings to mildly interested tourists when you had noticed him and his work, stopping dead in your tracks to admire a painting of a couple locked in a warm embrace. They lay in a field of green grass and small pink blossoms, wrapped in one another’s arms. They're bathed in soft yellow sunshine, locked together in an eternal summer kiss. Something about the painting had felt so inviting, so real, you had pressed the tips of your fingers against your lips, your heart swelling with a wave of longing to be kissed the same way. By a certain someone.

Theo had agreed with you, once you had managed to drag him away from the mansion and back to the park where the artist was slowly packing up his wares. Buffeted by the man’s potential, you had worked together on putting together a showing of his paintings, drumming up funds from various patrons until you had enough for your showcase.

Now you walk through the small gallery, drinking in the fruits of your labor.

“There you are.” Theo’s deep voice cuts through your reverie and you turn to see him approaching you, glass of sparkling champagne in hand. He hands you one which you take with an appreciative smile.

“Cheers,” you say, lifting it towards him.

“Proost,” he answers, clinking glasses with you. Your gazes hold (you could swim forever in all that blue) Before the moment stretches into something too long to be insignificant, you both raise the delicate crystal flutes and drink. The cascade of bubbles feels like it's not just rushing down your throat but through your entire body. You blink, turning towards the painting you are closest to.

It’s the passionate couple, kissing in the summer field. The one that had so immediately caught your attention. You sigh, a light, dreamy sound that pours itself over Theo like silk, sending an unexpected rush of heat through his body. He rubs his face, turning away to hide any color that may have risen to his chiseled cheeks. You don't notice, eyes glued to the figures as you allow yourself another sip of champagne. Now, in the dimmer lighting of the art gallery late at night, there is something even more sensual about the way the couple is holding each other. His hand pressed against the rounded curve of his lover's hip, her fingers curled against the side of his neck, intimate, possessive.

“This is as satisfying as a real kiss,” you murmur, head tilting as you continue to admire the art. What pulls you out of your rose-colored haze is the decidedly unromantic snort from your right.

“If you think a painting can replace a real kiss, then you haven’t been kissing the right person, hondje.”

He’s smirking as he takes a sip of his drink, his impossibly blue eyes looking over the painting. The fairy lights are having the same effect on him as they do the artwork: he looks unfathomably beautiful, his golden hair darker than in the daylight, his face a sculptor’s dream of perfectly balanced features.

Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s the intimacy of the late hour. Maybe it’s the fact that you have been spinning from one task to another all day long without a chance to spend any time with him. It has to be something because the following words come out of your mouth:

“Prove me wrong.”

Three little words that stop the earth from turning, that grab hold of Theo’s lungs with such force that the next inhale shakes. Three little words that hang in the air between you, vaguely foreboding like flickering neon or distant thunder.

Warning flashes through your mind and you want to kick yourself and your big mouth. Why did you say that? Whatever possessed you to even think that Theodorus van Gogh would be interested in kissing–

Theodorus van Gogh sets his champagne glass down on the edge of a table full of brochures and then turns. He reaches out with both hands, cupping either side of your face and leans down, capturing your mouth with his. You freeze, both arms at your sides, the champagne in your glass sloshing around like a tiny, storm-tossed sea.

Is he…..

Oh….

…..he is….

He’s kissing you, his lips moving over yours in a shockingly gentle caress, his hands holding you still, not forcefully, but carefully, like you’re something valuable, something he should handle with care. He displays a tenderness you would never have dreamed possible in a man as large as he is. Every movement of his mouth against yours sends a ripple of warmth through your body. One hand shifts, the back of his fingers stroking the softness of your cheek.

Your surprise slowly melts under his touch, disappearing like water droplets in sunshine, and your free hand rises to clutch his shoulder. You hold on tightly, reveling in the electricity every brush of his lips sparks. But before you can part your lips in invitation, before you can start truly returning his kiss, he pulls away, the movement causing a short, forlorn gasp to leave your tingling lips.

Quiet descends upon you both and for a long, tense moment, neither one of you speaks. Words seem impossible as you stare into the summer-sky of his eyes. He clears his throat, shaking his head as if trying to wake himself out of a dream. At that moment you feel him pulling away, the warmth of his kiss and the tenderness of his hands fading into memory. Your heart lurches in panic.

“Theo.”

He grunts, unable to meet your gaze.

You step towards him, setting your champagne glass down next to his. Your hands are now free to reach out, steadier than you expected them to be, and take his, holding his strong hands tightly in yours.

“I believe…..I am starting to be swayed by your persuasive argument. But I do think I need more proof before I am fully convinced.”

His head snaps up and on his handsome face you see a dazzling array of emotions, starting with surprise and ending with a slow smile that sends your heart spinning. He pulls you towards him, unhurried, a man who now knows he has a delicious treat waiting just for him.

"More proof, huh,” he murmurs, unlocking your hands so he can slide his around you, large palms eagerly learning the curve of your hips, the slope of your waist.

You plunge your hand boldly into the thicket of his golden hair as he bends his body down to kiss you for the second time that night.

By the night’s end though….you will have lost count entirely.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp theo #theodorus van gogh #ikemen theo #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #1k first kiss celebration #violettwrites

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moominofthevalley · 5 months

Text

The Girl with the Glass

Trystan finds a mysterious scrapbook. Emily has a deep conversation with a stranger.

Characters: Trystan Thorne x Emily Rose

WC: 2.5k

Rating: Teen | CW: Mentions of Grief

CFWC Prompt Used: ‘Visiting a Holiday Market’ & ‘The holidays won’t be the same now that they’re gone’

A/N: Happy Holidays, everyone! This drabble is inspired by an influx of things – mostly my favorite film, “Amélie,” if you couldn’t tell by the title. (Which, of course, is not-so-subtle-symbolism). Enjoy!

“It’s your turn, Trystan!”

Snow sprinkled downwards, little husks of angels drooping to the wintry ground. Crowds of faces walked the busy New York streets, surrounded by shiny knickknacks and dusty clothes. Cheeks were stained pink, and lips curled upwards in the holiday spirit. Trystan urged out a cocky grin, arms around Emily’s waist.

“Is it, now?”

“Yes, it is! I’ll go and get something for us to eat.”

Trystan pecked her forehead, whispering, “Do something good!” before disappearing into the crowd. He grew fond of these new habits of love, searching for a trinket to take back to their hearth.

It was a silly tradition, but a tradition nonetheless. It began with a scratched Pierrot figurine Emily bought from a vintage shop. Ivory skin and porcelain eyes, and a black-and-white costume with a frilled collar. Like some haunted elf on the shelf, the clown explored the apartment all by itself – according to Trystan, at least. The second well-loved piece was a gift from Marguerite: a brass ladybug ashtray. Neither Emily nor Trystan smoked, though the aureate bug was far too interesting to be thrown away. The most recent find was a print of Renoir’s The Luncheon of the Boating Party Emily purchased from a local art gallery. Both of them adored it; the celebration of warmth and good company, the splendid wines and fruits, calmness in beauty in the mundane. Drinks and company aside, Emily was far more fascinated with the girl with the glass. A sullen woman drinking wine in a sea of chatting strangers.

It was Trystan’s turn, and he was keen on finding an old book of sorts. He insisted on a leather novel of yellowed papers and annotated lines, with intricate Victorian details along the spine. Trystan paused, exhilarated at the antique booth before him. Forgotten scrapbooks, noir polaroids, rotten thrown-away cameras, and fringed lamps cornered him with an enticement to explore.

Emily wandered around the opposite side of the market, searching for nearby food vendors. A strange harmony bubbled inside her; a soft scent, a beam from the clouded sun. She breathed in the scent of chestnuts and red wine, a wintry chill slipping through her bones. Silver bells danced in the December wind, faces greeting each other with a blissful smile. It was a perfect moment, a painting from her own eyes.

On the sidewalk stood a white-haired woman in a vibrant Christmas sweater, her cane tapping the frozen ground. Breaths escaped her parted lips in subtle clouds of white. Trystan’s words repeated in Emily’s head, a determination settling within her. This was peace and contentment; the mundanity of a random December afternoon.

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you need help?”

“Yes, please!”

“Careful of the curb, here we go!”

The woman held onto the cane, her other hand wrapped around Emily’s. Her heart burst at the scene developing around her. Laughs and joyous days echoed around her, the wind so sweet she gulped for more.

“Hear that? That’s a florist laughing, he has crinkly eyes! A booth that smells like eucalyptus and rose is selling crystals and botanical postcards. The food truck across them is selling lollipops and hot cocoa for children. A farmer’s booth has rows of persimmons, oranges, and tangerines. Next to the fruits, a baby is watching her dad throw his hat in the air. We’re at the end of the market, there’s a bookstore and a vinyl shop in front of us. I’ll leave you here, goodbye!”

The elderly woman struck out a pleased laugh, touched by moments folding around her. Memories of today fell like dominoes, scattering about like new snow. Her cheeks shined pink as Emily cradled her hand, stilling the woman’s trembling fingers.

“Have a good day,” She whispered before walking off.

“Wait,” The woman called out, “Are you hungry? Let me get you something to eat!” * * * *

Emily and the white-haired woman split an orange and two empanadas on a quiet bench. Emily, of course, contently peeled the oranges in thirds, ignoring the pith underneath her nails.

Familiarity struck her as she handed the woman an orange. Her father’s willow-leaved eyes resembled the stranger’s. Perhaps in another life, Jimmy Rose grew old and never walked the wistful grounds of Box Thirty-Two. To breathe with wrinkled skin and grey hairs, lines creasing about his lips and forehead.

“What’s your name?”

“Diana.”

“I’m Emily,” she hid the third orange wedge in her coat pocket, “Do you like the food?”

“I love it,” Diana grinned, “God, that vendor was beautiful, wasn’t she?”

Emily gulped, taken aback, “How could you tell?”

The other woman laughed and patted her lap, “Partial blindness. I can only see things if I’m up close.”

“Oh!” Emily blushed awkwardly, “I’m sorry – I didn’t-”

“Don’t worry.”

“But, er, yes, the vendor was beautiful.”

Diana perked up, casting an amused grin, “Are you a lesbian?”

“Bisexual. And my boyfriend wanted to check this market out. He’s looking for…I dunno, some silly trinket to take home, and I told him I’d get us some food. Are you…also…?”

Diana nodded.

“How old are you?”

“Sixty-eight. And you?”

“Twenty-eight,” Diana winced.

“Don’t worry, it does get better.”

Emily shrugged, unconvinced. Her bones were brittle as if made of glass, jaded memories of Drakovia hitting her like violent waves against a sandy beach. Grief thrashed inside her head so intensely she’d wake up in the night, begging for air. There was avoiding it, no going under or over it. Whether she’d acknowledge it or not, trauma and grief permeated her life.

“When?” Emily asked innocently, her eyes burning. Diana scooted slightly closer, resting her wrinkled hand over Emily’s.

“When does it get better?” Emily nodded, cringing at her childish question, “However long it takes. Eventually…it’ll pass.”

It had been sixteen years. Sixteen lonely years, and it had, indeed, not passed. She swore that she’d be done with everything by twenty. That foolish promise broke, and twenty-eight was no different than twenty. All that was left of Jimmy Rose’s legacy was a cruel memory.

“It’s been almost twenty years. I don’t think it will.”

Emily gritted her teeth ruefully, furrowing her fingers into her hands until they became beet red. With a blink of an eye, she was no longer the famed private detective who took down the Heartache Killer; but a tall child with no father.

“Oh, Emily,” Diana cooed, “I’m so sorry. But that’s simply not true,” She murmured, struggling to find the right words, “Nothing lasts forever. Things pass, lives go on, and it feels fucking awful when you’re…stuck. But when we are stuck, all we have is each other. To get by, at least.”

Emily’s walls began crumbling. Her hands instinctively covered her face, sheltering herself from the world. Diana granted her some space, moving closer to the other end of the bench.

“I’m sorry,” Emily rubbed her face, grasping at anything to change the subject. With a pained sigh, she uttered, “Y’know, I don’t really like Christmas. I just–I’m just here because of a stupid tradition.”

“I don’t either,” Diana said, “But my wife loved it. Every year, God bless her soul, she’d always cook the worst beef wellington ever!” Diana with a familiar gleefulness, “I’d always eat it. I mean, it was atrocious and entirely raw, but she cooked it. Made with love…and absolutely no seasoning. I would do anything to have it this year.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Emily whispered, “Her wellington must’ve made your day. My dad took me to Rockefeller Square every year until he passed. I always thought he was a king for that,” She chuckled, “I remember seeing it for the first time. I didn’t even know trees got that big.”

“He sounds like an amazing Dad. I’m so sorry he was lost to you.”

“Thank you. I try to remember the good things about him. It helps keep his spirit alive.”

Inklets of snow trailed down and stained their hair, solemness in the wind. Emily cleared her throat, pushing past the silence.

“Can you tell me more about your wife?”

“Of course,” Diana beamed, “Her name was Dani. She lived in the apartment next to mine. She was an amazing pianist. I’d always hear her playing through the walls. One day, I knocked on her door and asked if I could listen to her.”

“Do you remember what song she played?”

“Yes! It was, hm, ‘Camptine?’ No – ‘Comptine d’un autre été.’ You really should listen to it sometime.”

“I’ll hold you to that…how long were you two together?”

“Twenty years and ninety-eight days – but who’s counting? We were completely different and so unlike,” Diana’s face grew serious, “And she was so different in the end, too. It’s odd to see someone die when they’re already gone and so, so small.”

Emily fiddled with her hands, jaws clenched, “I’m so sorry, Diana. I can’t imagine losing–” She choked on a small pit in her throat, “I just can’t imagine a loss like that.”

“Thank you. The two of us had an amazing life. We really, really did. I mean – sometimes I still see her, even in little things, I still feel her with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I see her everywhere,” Diana’s lips quivered, “I see her when it rains, and I think of the song she played for me when we first met. I saw La Traviata last summer, and all I thought about was her. Whenever I walk by a deli, I think of her God-awful beef wellington and cry.”

A glint of doubt shimmered in Emily’s eye. Uncertainty twisted her insides, striking with fierce ripples of despair and mourning.

“Listen to me,” Diana said sternly, “One day at a time is all we got. So go on and live. But, when the time does come…kiss his forehead, rub his feet, and play a song that reminds you of him. It will be hard, and I don’t think it will ever go away completely. But I promise – after some time, you’ll wake up and feel, maybe not better, but as if you’ve adjusted to the pain of it all. And then it won’t hurt so much.”

A surge of preemptive grief washed over Emily, though tears never flooded her eyes. The burdens of the past and deaths of the future weren’t gone, but instead quiet and still in her mind. Death is only a moment, a bitter soul slipping into the next room. Two words repeated in Emily’s head until she was content.

“Thank you. I never thought of it that way…thank you.”

Easy silence lay upon them, the words shared by each other warm in their throats. Flurries of unknown faces passed by, snowflakes tangling in their hair with ease. Spotting Trystan in the crowd of strangers, Emily greeted the mischievous smirk on his face, hands tucked behind his back.

“Hey partner,” Trystan kissed the top of Emily’s head, “And who’s this?”

“I’m Diana…and you must be the boyfriend Emily was telling me about!”

“Oh, yeah? What’d she tell you?”

“Your deepest and darkest secrets, obviously,” Emily deadpanned, “...You hiding something back there?”

With a smug grin, Trystan unveiled a wrapped gift. He chuckled, “You’ll see! I’ll show you later.”

“Hey, I also got you something!” Emily grabbed the orange slice from her pocket, wiping away tiny beads of lint. Trystan’s face lit up, mouth agape.

“I love you. Thank you,” Trystan pecked her forehead once more before biting into the citrus, “And it was lovely meeting you, Diana. I hope Emily didn’t tell you every secret of mine.” Diana laughed, shaking his hand.

“Of course not. And Emily?” She whispered into her ear, “Remember what you’re here for.”

* * * *

“Do I seriously need to be blindfolded for this?”

“I mean,” He pressed his hands tight against Emily’s covered eyes, “Yeah, you do.”

Emily grumbled, rolling her eyes through the thick wad of fabric tied around her head. A week had passed since she met Diana, and all that was in her mind were her tender words. Emily fixed her pout, forcing a tooth-shining smirk as Trystan led her across the apartment.

“The things I do for you.”

“Careful, darling,” Trystan gently moved her away from hitting the coffee table, “And sit…err, right here!”

“Can I take the blindfold off now?”

“Not yet!”

Sounds of scuffling surrounded her, and Emily grew curious. Trystan had been hiding something since the trip to the market. Whenever she’d mentioned it, he’d waggle a finger to his lips and utter gibberish.

Emily scoffed, amused, “Is this about that thing you got last week?” Trystan snickered with a childlike excitement.

“...Maybe.”

The tussling stopped, and Trystan sat beside her. Resting a hand on her thigh, he grinned, “Okay! You can take it off now.”

“Oh…my God!”

A leatherbound scrapbook and a dainty film camera plastered with Hello Kitty stickers sat across them. Colorful children’s doodles scuffed the book cover, crayons covering every inch. Squiggly letters in blue and red revealed the title: RoSe fAmilY aDveNtureS. Emily gasped, flooded with faint memories of her father. With flushed cheeks, she turned to Trystan and gawked.

“Trystan!” Emily squealed, “You found this last week?”

“Mhm,” He bobbed his head, “I showed it to Tommy to make sure. He said he must’ve accidentally donated it while cleaning up the attic. It…may or may not have taken me a long time to figure out how to use the camera – but it works! I’ll hook it up to the TV, okay?”

“I fucking love you.”

Emily and Trystan flipped page after page, soaking in long-forgotten moments of Emily’s past. At the top of each page contained a laminated label. Little Emily as San, Halloween 2002. Trip to Luzon, June 2005. Fluffernutters and Chocolate Rocks!

Stacks of polaroids were taped against each other, smiles and blissful memories in every photo. One quickly seized Trystan’s attention. ‘2001’ was written at the hem of the photo. At the center, a pigtailed Emily smiled widely at the camera, boasting her half-eaten yan yan.

“God,” Emily grazed her thumb over the polaroid, “I can’t believe you found this.”

“Me too. Maybe we can look through Tommy’s attic sometime. There has to be other scrapbooks we can find.”

“Can we look through the camera now?”

“Of course, dear.”

Emily grinned at Trystan, warmed by his gift. It’d been years since her heart grew so fondly, a quiet ease running through her body. Her bones were, indeed, not made of glass. She was not brittle and weak, but rather brimming with love and sentiment. Pain and sorrow were in her veins, too, yet on this still and snowy morning, Emily was at peace.

* * * * A/N: This fic was both such a pain and so nice to write lol. I wanted to give a little thank you to @jerzwriter @lexicook74-blog and @logolepzy for helping me edit this fic! Thank you all so much for your feedback, I appreciate you all SO much.

Tags: @choicesprompts @choicesholidays @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @mooserii @starsarewithinme @jonathanmoores @shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine @jahrobin @icarusfallsforever @kyra75 @calisomnia (let me know if else would like to be added to my crimes tag!)

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