#CHARLOTTE CORDAY WAS THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE TO ROLL FOR ME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiatheinsomniac · 4 years

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Sooooo I know that we don't know each other that much but I had this thought and the first blog to come to my mind was yours, I was in Pinterest reading aus and found one that said you stop aging at 18 if u don't find ur soulmate and I thought about what if ur not from the same decade and that person lived all those years til now, imagine having a romantic dinner with the person and somehow when they were born comes up and damn I knew I was into older people but not that old and afagajhabwjahan

(Y/n) sat down hurriedly as she took her seat, already having missed the very opening of the play. She looked at her date who had new hope in his eyes at her sudden presence.

"I'm so sorry," She whispered to avoid disturbing anyone else in the café théâtre, "There was a delay at the Cité stop."

"It's alright, you're here now." He smiled, "I was worried that you weren't going to show up."

"I could never." She replied with a soft smile as he waved a waiter over.

"The usual and a (favourite coffee), s'il vous plaît, Victor." He spoke in a polite tone, proceeding to describe any other details of (Y/n)'s drink to the man, the employee nodded his head and went off to make them both.

(Y/n) had met Arno here at his café théâtre, she went in most mornings seeing as she worked at the florists just down the street. She was enchanted by the place when she first found it, often leaving the house earlier to enjoy a coffee and a chapter of her book there before her first shift of the day. There were often performers on the stage too and it was her favourite thing when a violinist or pianist was playing on the stage as she immersed herself in the pages of whichever novel she had been reading that month. Quite often, when she went in, Arno was the one working behind the counter. It wasn't uncommon for the two to flirt with each other at all either.

In fact, he didn't realise how much he liked seeing her in the mornings until she was put on an earlier shift at work and no longer had the time to visit his café in the mornings. When her shifts returned to normal, he asked her on a date the very first chance he got, and she readily accepted.

So, that's what brought them here.

"It's sweet to know that you remember my favourite drink." She smiled softly, feeling a slight heat on her cheeks.

"How could I not? You come in almost every morning." He teased, "But, I must admit, I usually take care to make sure I get it right for you." He watched her look down at her lap shyly, her smile tugging at her lips despite her trying to hide it. It was a small gesture but in a world full of so many thoughtless people, it meant a lot to her.

"So, (Y/n), what sorts of things do you like? Other than reading, I know plenty of Mary Shelley and Jane Austen by now." He replied. (Y/n) recalled to where he would often ask her how her book was going and she'd share her thoughts and favourite quotes with him.

"Well. . . I really like history and the arts. I think that there's always so much to learn from the people who came before us." At her choice of words, his face became painted with an amused smile, "And we have so many sources to look to now, to see the error in our past and current ways, to change things for the better. I'm particularly fond of the Renaissance and the French and American revolutions."

"The French revolution?" He raised a brow.

"Absolutely!" She replied with a grin and sparkling eyes, "I can understand why people aren't fond of it - it was bloody, ruthless, some instances were horrifyingly shocking and so many lives were lost. But how many lives would have continued to fall to poverty if that had not happened? I love the politics behind it, how easily Robespierre, the seemingly untouchable man, fell to corruption and, eventually, the guillotine. Also, movements like that are important became it gave many women the chance to show their worth - the women's march on Versailles, Charlotte Corday, Theroigne de Mericourt. . ."

"Ah, yes, I knew her."

"Oh, you've studied her?" (Y/n) replied, thanking the waiter as he placed their coffees down on the table before them. Arno laughed heartily, watching her confusion with amusement, the way she furrowed her brow and tilted her head, looking much more adorable in his eyes than she should.

"No, I met her. I helped her to get some food to the poor and get rid of some Jacobins too." He watched her face fall into shock, hardly able to drink his coffee with the smile on his face.

"How long have you been looking for your soulmate? When were you born?" She raised her brows. In this world, looks could be very deceiving: an eighteen-year-old could be a five-hundred-year-old. (Y/n) had even heard stories of people who kill their soulmates so that they never die.

"I looked for around two centuries, stopped after the first world war, then starting looking again," He hesitated, "recently." In truth, he had given up altogether until he met the (h/c)-haired woman sitting opposite him, "And I was born in 1768."

"Wow. . ." She breathed out, "You've lived through a good portion of history then, huh?"

"You could say that." He shrugged, "I take it that you're actually eighteen?"

"Twenty-six, actually." She replied, taking a sip of her favourite coffee, "So, I'm on a date with a two-hundred and fifty-two year old?" She tutted at him and shook her head teasingly, all in light-heartedness.

"All jokes I've heard before, chérie." He replied.

"Must be a lot of birthday candles." She continued to tease with a childish grin as he rolled his eyes playfully.

"Cut the old jokes and I’ll let you see some of my memorabilia from the revolution, how does that sound?" He cut her a deal. She lifted her hand to mimic zipping her lips and throwing the zip away.

"If it's not a sensitive subject, would you mind telling me if it's been difficult? Trying to find a soulmate, I mean." She spoke in a more serious tone.

"I always thought that my first love was my soulmate. Her name was Élise. My parents. . . weren't really in the picture when I was a boy so I was raised by Élise's father. We grew up together and we fell in love as teenagers. We both thought that we were perfect for each other but. . . neither of us aged after eighteen. It didn't make me love her any less, though. But, one day. . . She died in a fight." She could see that he was still upset by her death, though, the time passed since had clearly made him accept it and learn how to talk of it openly. "I've had a few lovers since then and many went the same way: three serious ones in the 19th century who left when they met their soulmates. One in the 1910s who died in prison-" He saw the look of shock on (Y/n)'s face "- she wasn't a criminal, she was a suffragette; as was I." He paused a moment more, "I gave up after that until recently."

"What made you change your mind?" She propped her chin on her hand, hanging onto each little detail of his stories. Was that the hint of a blush she could see on his cheeks?

"Not to be an old-fashioned romantic. . ." He joked, making (Y/n) smile at him joining in with her old jokes, "But it was you." Her back straightened a bit with surprise.

"Me?" He reached for her hand across the table, watching him nod his head as he idly twisted her fingers around his.

"You give me hope." He smiled simply.

♡♡♡

Quite a few months had passed since then - as had many more dates and Arno asking to ‘court’ her (that earned him both a ‘yes’ and many old jokes) - and (Y/n) was currently laid with Arno in his room, it was early in the morning and they were half-dressed, tangled in the bedsheets with half-drank coffee on the bedside table and a tray of various snacks laid by them: different cheeses, sweetmeats, cut fruits. Arno had his head laid on her stomach and she was propped against the wall, a pillow cushioning her back. One of her hands was running through his hair, his eyes closed as he listened to her voice and lavished in her gentle caresses. Her other hand was holding a copy of Frankenstein: they'd both read it before but shared a love for it.

" 'How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form? His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! - Great God! ' " She glanced down to her lover, lips pursing as she laid the book down.

"Have you been stressed lately, amour?" She furrowed her brows, making him open his eyes.

"Having to change suppliers for the café has been a bit difficult, yes." He sighed, "What makes you ask?"

"You have a silver hair." She commented. His hand went to his head rapidly as he sat up, finding the culprit hair with shock. His mouth fell agape and (Y/n) was confused for a moment before she realised what this meant for both of them. He turned to face her, watching the smile creep onto her lips as he lunged forward to cup her face, pulling her into a deep kiss and holding her body as close to his as possible, skimming his hands down her spine as hers went up to rest on his shoulders, the two of them having to pull apart from smiling too much. He held her tenderly and rested his forehead against hers, lips brushing featherly over hers when he said:

"You took your time, didn't you?"

#ac #assassin s creed #self insert #assassins creed unity #arno dorian #modern arno dorian #arno dorian imagine #arno dorian x reader #soulmate au #modern au

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