#he also ruined my last christmas with my grandfather before he passed. so. I have a grudge to say the fucking least.

[dirtytransmasc]

(personal vent about my sack of shit father ruining christmas again)

me, my fathers only "daughter"/child:

helps my grandmother for weeks to prepare for his christmas party that neither of us wanted (he goes way over the top. invites his friends that are all loud drunks. cooks food we don't like. keeps the whole house up partying into the early hours of the morning. makes a mess and refuses to clean up after himself. doesn't spend time with us and instead hangs out with his friends, even for family holidays and events. etc.

me and my grandmother are disabled, constantly in pain/have stomach issues, and generally just want to be left on our own for holidays, so the whole event is just awful for us)

has been up since 6* in the morning, continuing to prepare for his party so he doesn't throw a hissy fit, running on only a few hours of sleep*, running around from store to store, cleaning, cooking, decoaring, etc.

spends hours trying to wake him up.

after doing everything I am capable of skill/strength wise, I took a two hour power nap before guests come.

helps serve dinner, makes drinks, fulfills every task my father gives me to maintain the delicate peace in the household, cause my grandmother wants to murder him*.

does all of this with no complaint.

my father:

promises his full and undivided attention and help the day before the party (this is the only day he's offered the slightest help outside of making a huge dinner no one but he and his friends wanted), he then breaks this promise, does nothing, delegates every task my grandmother has given him to me, and then leaves at 6 at night to go party, ignoring the amount of cooking he needs to finish.

doesn't come home for almost 12 hours (he came home at 6am), waking me up*, sleeps till 1, leaving me and my gradnmother do 90% of the things that needed to be done today (as his guests are coming at 4).

invites more friends than he originally told us about, ditching us after dinner (which we served) to go hang out outside and blast music so loud it shakes the house.

and then complains that I "slept all day" and "did nothing" so now I need to clean the whole kitchen and all the dishes of over 15 guests, not him, the reason there's such a mess to clean.

he continues to demand this even after something he cooks, knowing I hate it and it makes me feel ill, and stinks up the whole kitchen, making me go lie down because it made me nauseous and gave me a migraine.

I then get to spend the rest of my christmas eve cleaning, doing dishes, while barely holding back tears.

thanks dad, for ruining an already awful christmas, you fucking asshole.

#he does this shit all the time #one year he forget his mothers birthday. almost forgot mothers day. and threw a party “for her” that was just excuse to trash her house wit #his friends and we were both miserable. he made us clean and serve people and made food we don't like #I'm still fucking pissed about it #he also ruined my last christmas with my grandfather before he passed. so. I have a grudge to say the fucking least. #me and my grandmother are his personal servants and we can't do anything about it if we want to know peace #cause he's a fucking piece of shit #he does this with everything. he used to make my grandmother clean up after him. now he makes me do it #please. whatever god is out there. give me the financial stability to move out and live on my own. I can't keep doing this shit #actually. god. make him move out. let me and my grandmother stay in our family home. just get him to fuck off. #he's the biggest hypocrite. do-nothing. asshole and I hate him #personal vent #fuck my dad #biggest mistake my father made in terms of raising me was not leaving. instead he just ruined every aspect of my life and made me miserable #can't even escape him as an adult

[sweeethinny]

It’s Christmas!

I always thought about how Harry would love Christmas if Jily lived, and how James would look when he finally gave him the cloak ... so, here it is and bc i LOVE christmas!

It was Christmas, which meant: gifts.

‘’It’s Christmas!’’ Harry spoke as he ran down the stairs, his socks sliding on the well-polished floor, already being able to hear his parents talking downstairs. ‘’Merry Christmas!’’ He almost screamed, more than excited to finally be on the 25th and finally being able to discover what was in those big boxes under the tree that he and his mother had chosen and decorated with such appreciation.

‘’Good morning, Harry.’’ His father smiled at him from the stove, where the smell of pancakes was already in the air. ‘’It looks like you can count the days.’’

‘’Yes, yesterday was the 24th and today...let me see… the 25th. Christmas.’’ He looked at the calendar that his mother left hanging on the wall next to one of the paintings that Sirius had painted for them.

‘’Good morning my love.’’ His mother kissed him on the forehead, floating cups to the table, the cookie tin they made yesterday, and the milk. ‘’Merry Christmas, Harry.’’

‘’Merry Christmas, Mom.’’ Harry helped her, picking up the silverware and sugar, feeling almost bursting with anxiety. ‘’Can we open the presents already?’’

‘’Sorry, buddy, but only after breakfast.’’ Dad spilled the last pancake on the plate that already had a pile of it.

''I can't wait to open my presents.'' Harry sat in his chair, anxious to start eating. ‘’Good morning Missy, Merry Christmas.’’ He smiled at the cat beside him, also sitting on the chair that belonged to her, wearing a beautiful new collar. ‘’Missy has already won her gift.’’ He complained.

‘’Missy didn’t touch gifts to try to guess them.’‘ Lily’ shrugged, smiling gently as she poured the milk into her own cup. ‘’Furthermore, she disappeared with the old one earlier today.’’

‘’Very pertinent Missy, disappearing with the old stuff on Christmas Day.’’ Harry stroked her fur, listening to her purring before lowering her head between paws and returning to her morning nap.

‘’Have you already sent your gift to Ron?’’

‘’Yes dad, and I think he’s going to like the Cannons sweater.’’ Harry put a big pancake on his plate, and some scrambled eggs and mushrooms. With the usual cup of tea.

They ate breakfast in the usual peace. James commented on how the work was going, from the last Puddlemore game (of course Lily rolled her eyes and claimed that the Harpies were better and that the last game had been devastating and that James would not admit defeat), about the trip they would take on vacation. 

Lily spoke of how close they were to a cure for a disease that Harry didn't quite remember the name, her parents - and that they would visit them later. And Harry can tell them more about what he thought of Hogwarts, about Ron, Hermione, how Remus was a good teacher, and how he was late for Professor McGonagall's class (‘’ I swear I got lost! The stairs took us to the other side!)

When the pancakes were finished, the tea cooled, and almost all the cookies were devoured; it was time to open the presents.

Harry jumped out of his chair and ran under the tree, more than excited to start opening each box.

‘’This is for… you, mom.’’ He handed her a big package, which Sirius had sent. ‘’This is for Daddy.’’ Harry pushed the heavy box to the man, sitting in the armchair across from Lily. ‘’Me and the mom we bought.’’ He smiled proudly, followed by Lily, who winked and nodded at her husband. ‘’This is… Missy, you won another gift. Let's hope it's a new scraper, right? I love you but, you ruined my chair.'' The cat meowed, stretching at Harry's feet, looking oblivious to all the commotion. ‘’And this .. for me!’’ He stood up, almost jumping for joy.

Harry loved Christmas.

There were still more gifts, but the first was always the most exciting.

‘’Whose is it?’’ Dad asked, craning his neck at the silver wrapper in the boy’s hands, smiling from ear to ear.

‘’Yours.’’ Harry looked over his shoulder, laughing softly. ‘‘I bet it’s another Puddl shirt-- What is it?’’ Harry pulled the soft fabric, assessing the gift and trying to understand what it meant. ''A cloak?''

‘‘It’s not just a cloak, Harry.’’ James said, getting up from the armchair and taking the cloak in his hands, passing around his son and turning him towards the mirror. Harry swallowed the cry when he realized that only his head was visible. ‘’It’s an invisibility cloak.’’

‘’WOW!’’

''Take care of it. It belonged to your great-grandfather, grandfather, me... and now it's all yours. ’’ James looked proud, his brown eyes looking more sentimental than Harry remembered seeing them ... Maybe when Puddlemore won the league, but still, James didn't look as emotional as he does now.

Harry definitely loved Christmas.

#jily lives #jily #james x lily #Harry Potter #harry potter au #harry christmas #i love jily #urg #they deserve to live

[moos-cow]

’Tis The Season For SMUT

Like what I’ve posted before, I’ll be participating in @voltage-vixen​‘s  ’Tis The Season For SMUT Challenge!

So, without further ado, my first post for the challenge:

Day 1 Prompt: Kiss me under the mistletoe

Pairing: Lancelot Kingsley / Reader Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Genre: Fluff-SMUT Word Count: 2021 Warning: Graphic

“Zero! Over here!” you yell from across the street, waving a hand overhead to the wandering Ace of Hearts. Once your eyes met, he immediately walks over to you with a couple of bags in hand.

You had volunteered to head in the decorating of the Red Army Headquarters for Christmas-- a job usually taken by Jonah due to his ‘high standards of style’ as he’d call it. But like all the other officers, the closing holidays made him busier than usual; events with the nobles happening one after the other, and meetings with the Black Army for their joint Christmas event for the citizens topped his already packed-to-the-minute daily work.

Now that December has finally kicked in, you don’t hold back in your decor shopping escapades; you’d been waiting for this day to come since Halloween anyway. So, you go from shop to shop with Zero, buying all the decorations and trinkets on your list that you'll need to dress up the Headquarters. 

“What’s this?” Zero questioned the new bag you have in hand. It was a small, light-looking, brown bag that was sealed neatly with Christmas designed tape-- a standout from the colourful paper bags you carried.

“It’s a secret!” Excitement beaming from you as you began skipping back towards headquarters, looking forward to a certain Christmas tradition you'd surprise Lancelot with. “Come on, Zero!”

-

As huge as the headquarters is, with the help of some of the soldiers and maids, it took you over two weeks to completely decorate the manor from top to bottom, and inside out. It was a winter wonderland.

“One last piece,” you spoke to yourself, clutching the little brown bag you had when you went out with Zero. Where you’d choose to hang this little decor had to be special, not only to you but also to Lancelot, so you walk around the building to scan for viable locations. “Where, oh where can I hang you…”

“Y/N,” Edgar’s chipper voice called out to you just as he left Lancelot’s office with Jonah, wondering why you were walking aimlessly around the halls with a small bag in hand. “Anything the matter?”

“Edgar! Jonah!” You spun in surprise as the two sauntered towards you, Jonah’s eyes were immediately drawn to the bag in your hands, probably thinking that Edgar has given you a part of his stash of contraband sweets.

“I’m just looking for a nice place to hang these…”

Jonah arches a brow questioningly, and Edgar’s smile unwavering, as if asking you what the contents of the bag were. Your words slip out to answer the unspoken question, “... decors.”

Jonah frowned as he held out his hand, asking you to hand the bag over. You promptly hide it behind your back; but as you shift it around you, Edgar snatches it from your grip. His grin reaches from ear to ear as he and Jonah take a peek into the bag.

“Edgar!” You reach out to take the bag back, but he holds it just a little farther back and higher away from you. He may be the shortest among the officers, but he is still a good couple of inches taller than you.

“Now, now, Y/N. Why don’t you leave the hanging of this to us, hm? Besides, you’ve done a wonderful job decorating headquarters. My, you’re even better than Jonah here!” Edgar teases and chuckles at his own statement.

“Hey!” Jonah scowls at the younger man, then pouts as he turns to you, trying to get his composure back. “Anyway, Y/N, mistletoes are poisonous. It’s better to have Edgar poisoned rather than you.”

“You hurt my feelings, Queen.” Edgar banters back, waving a hand as he turns to walk away with the bag. Jonah soon follows in suit, excusing himself from you to head to his troops’ training session.

-

Another week has passed, and the red and white manor now basked in the scarlet rays of the Christmas Eve setting sun. Up until now, there was no sign of the mistletoe Edgar took from you that time. After searching high and low, you finally shrug in defeat, resigning yourself to the idea that the little ornament would never see the light of Christmas that year.

A little mistletoe won’t ruin my Christmas! You commit yourself to that simple idea as you walk back to your room to get dressed for the evening’s party. A red and gold embellished off shoulder cocktail dress laid on your bed, with a small note and a single white rose. Your heart raced at the simple gesture-- Lancelot always knew how to make you smile.

You added a scarf to your ensemble and headed out for the common area. The delicious scents and joyful sounds filled the halls of the Red Army Headquarters. Soldiers and officers alike greeted you with smiles and laughter-- long gone was the Red Army you knew when you first arrived in Cradle.

“You look beautiful.” Lancelot greeted you the moment you arrived in the common room. 

“Who do I have to thank for then?” You wrap an arm around his waist and pull him close into a hug of sorts, chuckling into his chest. “Thank you, Lancelot.”

“Well, isn’t it Mr. and Mrs. Claus!” Kyle, clearly tipsy already, raises his voice as he saunters closer to you and Lancelot with a Christmas hat in hand. He swiftly decks it on Lancelot’s head and looks at it as if it were his prized masterpiece. “Perfect.”

To your surprise, Lancelot doesn’t dare move, nor remove the said hat; prompting you to turn to him with a slightly confused look on your face.

“The idiots made me into Santa this year,” Lancelot answered with the straightest face imaginable. You lightly cough to try to hold back your laughter; alas, your shoulders shook, giving you away to the man beside you. He was just too adorable. 

“I’m sorry, it does fit you.” you laugh and fan your face with your hand, fighting back the tears of joy threatening to fall from your eyes. “You’ll make a great Santa, Lancelot.”

A smile graced his features as the events of the night started. Overflowing food and drinks were served, music and chatter filled the air, and gifts were exchanged. You scan the room, burning the scene before you into memory-- Kyle, already on his umpteenth bottle of beer, started challenging soldiers to an arm-wrestling challenge, while Edgar and Zero stood by to watch and further insight until the whole thing goes down in flames; Jonah was receiving gifts from the soldier members of ‘Jonah's Heart Defenders’ at the other end with a fresh plate of mille-feuille before him; and, Lancelot… You strained your eyes to look for him in the busy crowd, and finally, find him alone by the Christmas tree, tinkering with one of the hung ornaments.

You saunter to him, bringing two flutes of champagne for each of you. He turns to you just as you arrive. With a clink of your flutes, you greet each other just as the grandfather clock struck 12 in the main hall.

“Merry Christmas, Lancelot.” 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” 

Lancelot cupped your cheek in his hand and gently pulled you close to meet your lips with his-- a soft and delicate kiss that started to heat up with every passing second.

“Ahem- King Lancelot,” Jonah interjected, prompting you to cut your quick make-out session with Lancelot. The Queen’s brows furrowed and his eyes looked away, yet his cheeks contradicted his expression as he blushed a light shade of pink, “Your speech.”

Lancelot gave Jonah a curt nod before facing back to you. You smile at him and lightly squeeze his hand, “Go get ‘em, Santa.”

His hand never left yours for the duration of the party-- through the officer’s speeches, to the farewell greetings. He only let you go as you both stopped in front of your bedroom door, twirling you in the hall and straight into his arms. 

Hands to the small of your back, Lancelot pulls you in closer for another kiss. 

“Mm- What was that for?” you look up to him, only now noticing that his eyes were red, and not their usual blue. "Hey!" 

He chuckles and points a finger up towards a floating mistletoe over your heads, the mistletoe you've been looking for the past week. 

"Oh- Why is that with you?!" Your cheeks warm up from the thought of Edgar handing the little bag to his King. 

Drat. Edgar.

You wanted to surprise Lancelot by kissing him under the mistletoe, but now, the complete opposite seemed to happen. 

"I’ve always wanted to try that." Lancelot suddenly confesses, eyes locked onto the floating mistletoe above. 

"You know you have to ask first, right?" you chuckle at his innocence.

"I suppose." he straightens up and holds you closer, tilting your head up with a finger to meet his gaze. He starts again, "Y/N, may I kiss you under this mistletoe?"

"Of course." 

You meet his lips in a fervent kiss, and when you break, Lancelot's lips travel down, leaving a wet trail to your neck as he rids the scarf off your skin. His warm hands make their way down to the curve of your sides, eliciting a sigh from you as you call his name.

"Mistletoe kisses don't always have to be on the lips, you know." He says between nips, breath blowing against your heated skin; sending shivers straight down to your core.

"Mhmm," you hum at the feeling of his fingers brushing the underside of your clothed breast, and you lightly tug at the front of his uniform before reaching up to run a hand through his blonde locks.  

Lancelot bites down and sucks onto your flesh as he pushes you flush against the door. A soft moan escapes your lips at the sudden mix of pain and pleasure;  "Lance-" 

"Yes?" he drags his sultry reply as slowly as his hand travels down to the front of your skirt, raking the clothing up until his fingers could skim across your skin. 

"We're in the hall." You shudder in his hold as the heat between your legs started to grow more intolerable, throbbing at the need for more.

"So?" he teases, bringing his lips up to your ear to nibble on your lobe while his hand continuously skims across your inner thighs, purposefully missing your clothed womanhood.

Words won't get to him, so you reply in kind-- hand skimming over his uniform before resting over the growing tent of his pants. He growls and slightly bucks his hips against your hand at the faint touch, chasing the friction his body longs for. 

He catches your grin in a hungry kiss, swallowing your moans as he presses his fingers against your clothed sex, coaxing agonizingly slow circles against the little bundle of nerves. You tremble in his grasp, panting heavily from every shock sent throughout your body.

"Lancelot," you whine, instinctively grinding against his hand. He doesn't stop, nor does he speed up. His clear blue eyes lock into yours for a moment, heavy and full of lust. 

He strains his ears to hear the approaching sound of company-- muffled footsteps and faint chatter coming from the west wing. Your eyes widen once the sound reaches your ears. 

Lancelot quickly wraps an arm around your waist and opens the door behind you, causing you to both stumble gracelessly onto the carpets of your room with a thud.

You find yourself laying on top of Lancelot, with his arm still wrapped around your waist protectively. Both of you were still caught in a daze from the last minute's incident. 

You break into a smile, then burst into a laugh; prompting the man beneath you to laugh as well. 

"So?" you spoke, trying your best to impersonate Lancelot's earlier reply despite your intense laughter.

Tears rolled freely down your cheeks from the laughter, and Lancelot wiped them with the pads of his thumbs before pulling you into another kiss.

A Merry Christmas indeed. 

#ikemen revolution #ikemen kakumei #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen revolution fanfiction #lancelot kingsley #lancelot x reader #ikerev lancelot #edgar bright #Jonah Clemence #zero #kyle ash #IkeRev Jonah #ikerev edgar #ikerev Kyle #ikerev zero #’tis the season for smut

[mxpseudonym]

Everything There Is

Pairing: Tommy x OC

Summary: Florence and Tommy are in this together.

Request: “Hi! Can you do a Tommy x oc or reader as his wife in an arranged marriage where she is also a business woman and their marriage was a sort of contract and their relationship is mainly professional apart from sex n all, and Tommy comes home all worn out and she asks him to share with her and tommy is reluctant but she assures and reminds him that she is capable of protecting the family, Charlie and Tommy too. And then they just kiss and Tommy leans into her or something. Thank you!!” 

Length: 1650 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Underlying tones of forced/arranged marriage

A/N: Hello sweet, tender anon. This was a joy to write, especially Charlie 🥺. What a sweet angel.

--

Florence Heywood had been meeting with Tommy for two years about his investments. At first, Shelby Company Ltd simply needed advice from her property management company about renting and leasing. However, Florence and Tommy quickly found they were both as ambitious and calculating as the other. Unlike her other clients, Tommy didn't gaff at her suggestions of overseas ventures or buying big. It was a joyous union. Even Florence's mother didn't understand her dedication to the company. However, it was the senior Mrs. Heywood's father, who left the business to his granddaughter.  

"Don't you have enough, dear? You've come so far, not just as a woman, but as a business owner," her mother said after being told that grandchildren were not a priority. Florence wanted more. She was a modern woman who craved a legacy and a family name that honored her grandfather's work. 

"Enough of that," Tommy said, sliding a few signed documents into a folder before turning to her. "I told you to stop being so easy to read. Now, what's wrong?" 

Florence rolled her eyes but was thankful when Tommy went to pour them some whiskey. The upside to meeting at Tommy's home was that the rules were nonexistent. She didn't even have to leave her shoes on.

"My mother wants me to get married soon, probably have kids," she groaned. "She's set me up to go to the pictures with a banker on Friday."

"Isn't that what most women want?" Tommy walked over and handed her a glass of amber liquid. 

"You'd be surprised," Florence said, then sighed. "I'm just scared." 

"Florence Heywood is scared of something? Hard to believe." Tommy shook his head. 

"My grandfather left me his business when it was just one tiny office on Victoria Street. He put everything he had into it to make something of our name and pass something on. What if some prick weasels his way in and ruins it all? It’ll be his to gamble away. Or starts mistreating my employees. It's the stuff of nightmares." She shivered and looked to Tommy, who nodded in understanding. 

"We Shelby's want to do the same thing. Work hard enough to have what the toffs do- the opportunities and good fortune. My brothers and I fought side by side with those fuckers in the war. We get the shell shock, blow our bloody brains out, fuckin' live with demons, don't we? But they got everything, and we got nothing. Nothing changed." Tommy said. Florence was surprised to hear him talk with her like this but certainly didn't stop him. "But I have my family and my son. Anything less than success is unacceptable. You're right to be critical. You've got to know who's on your side." 

"Easier said than done," she mumbled. "How is Charlie, by the way?"

"He's with his tutor now. Won't stop talking about that train set you told him about last time," Tommy chuckled. Florence's grandfather's spare room that had the most extensive train set she'd seen. She was happy to tell Charlie all about it, but now he was intrigued.

"I'll happily take the blame."

"Hope you've got something planned to remedy this in the near future."

"I will talk to Father Christmas," Florence offered with a laugh. She sighed and thought of all of what Tommy has worked for and her as well. "You know what, Tommy? You and I are doing it. We're making a name for ourselves. Even when no one understands what we want, we have a vision." Tommy smirked, noticing that the strong drink was already making her eyes a bit glossy.

"And what is it that we want?" He asked. She raised her glass and motioned for him to do the same.

"Everything there is." 

In life, Tommy wasn’t often surprised. Sure he was blind sided now and again, but his cynical nature taught him to expect the worst. A few weeks after his optimistic toast with her, Florence arranged a meeting on the grounds of having a new venture for him that would challenge his ability to be two steps ahead. The last thing he expected was a marriage contract. Like any other venture, she laid out the facts, including Tommy needing to do something good for his image as a new politician. 

"This is really...something." Tommy looked over her detailed work in a slight daze. 

"I know, and please don't think I take this lightly. I'm just thinking about Shelby Company Ltd and Heywood Capital, establishing a bloody empire," Florence explained. Tommy could see the stars in her eyes as she thought about the possibilities. It was her promise that locked him in, however.  

"Tommy Shelby, I will protect you if you will protect me. That's as good as any marriage, isn't it?"  

Tommy thought about it for a few days. Florence Heywood, a woman he'd call his friend and one of the savviest people he knew, wanted to get married in the name of a legacy. He could hardly believe it when he picked up the phone and called her office.

"Everything there is, eh?"

It took several hours of negotiation, a prenuptial agreement, and the presence of a lawyer. Still, in the end, he said yes. 

For a while, the Shelby's referred to Florence in the form of the question, "isn't she that woman who manages Tommy's properties?" And Mrs. Heywood gave Florence an earful for getting engaged without ever bringing Tommy around for tea. But after a bumpy start, the rest went rather seamlessly.

One year later, Florence was sitting in her own lovely office in Arrow House with Charlie on her lap. She hadn't planned on reading to Charlie every night, but Charlie would sooner sneak out of bed in his pajamas and ambush her in her office than miss her reading to him. And he did. 

"Both parties should review the completed document carefully to ensure that all relevant deal points have been included," Florence read softly. Charlie was nearing a deep sleep, so Alice in Wonderland was sneakily replaced by the contracts she was in the middle of reviewing.  

When she heard the front door close, she stopped to check her watch. It was a quarter past 9 PM already. She followed the sound of Tommy's footsteps going up the stairs then quickly descending moments later. He was panicked, she could tell. If not from his steps, from the way he burst into her office. 

"Sh!" Florence placed a finger to her lips. Tommy let out a breath of relief as he ran a hand through his hair. Tommy came over and placed a hand on Charlie's head, then a kiss to his forehead. Florence was surprised she received one as well.

"He couldn't sleep?" Tommy asked quietly, eyes looking to the papers in her hand.

"He wouldn't allow it without a story. Tonight's is Once Upon a Time There Was A Walk-Up in Camden Town," she mused then pressed her own kiss to Charlie's head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's fine."

"Is it fine, or is it nothing?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"It's," Tommy sighed once again, thinking about his day, his week even. The Russians, the Irish,  hell, Arthur, and fucking Linda. Christ. 

"Tommy," Florence's voice cut through the smoke and mud, bringing him back into the present. She stood smoothly, expertly shifting Charlie to her hip. "I know you're stressed. I just want to remind you that we promised to protect each other, right? Whatever it is, we figure it out together."

Tommy reached up and cupped her cheek.

"You're right, we promised. I promised." He leaned forward and kissed her softly. It took everything for Florence to remind herself that there was no place for weak knees when holding her child. "Let's put him to bed, and I'll tell you it all, Mrs. Shelby."

--

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor; @amysteryspot

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby Imagine #Tommy Shelby x ofc #Tommy Shelby x OC #Peaky Blinders Imagine #Tommy Shelby x reader #Charlie Shelby #Charlie Shelby Imagine #Tommy Shelby Fluff #request fulfilled!

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Ninety Seven

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

October 12th, 2001

Remy laughed in the guy’s face, causing him quite a bit of confusion. “Girl, of course I’m gay!” he crowed. “Emile’s my boyfriend, duh? It’d be a bit weird if I weren’t into boys and he was my boyfriend. Now listen,” he purred. His smile was as cheery as ever as he leaned into the guy’s face. “You ever try and make Emile uncomfortable again and I’ll make your life a living hell, and I won’t hesitate to ruin your reputation. Understood?”

The guy paled, nodded, and scurried off. Remy smiled to himself and spit his gum into the nearest trash can. Playing the stereotypical gay had its perks. Namely, it made it all the more scary when he tore into someone, and it was a convenient mask he could always fall back on should something go wrong. Because he always knew how to play dumb and cute as hell. He could use this to his advantage, surely...

  March 28th, 2004

Remy’s grip on the steering wheel was tight as he drove the car towards Emile’s parents’ house. Emile was sitting in the passenger seat, trying to hide the fact that he was doing deep breathing exercises. Clearly, they were both nervous about seeing Emile’s grandfather again. Emile was nervous enough that he had gone to Mass earlier that morning, presumably in case his grandfather asked about the last time he went to Confession. Personally, Remy was fairly certain Emile had nothing to confess, but he wasn’t Catholic, so he wasn’t going to pretend to know.

Emile made a concerned whine as they got off the highway, and Remy took a deep breath, pushing as many homicidal tendencies as he was willing to out of the way to grab Emile’s hand with one of his own. Emile blinked, looked down at their intertwined hands, then over at Remy.

“You whined,” Remy said. “Like a kicked puppy. I was concerned.”

Emile blew out a breath. “Your tone suggests annoyed.”

“My tone is nonexistent because I’m incensed,” Remy said simply. “Not at you, though.”

“At my family? That’s kinda worse, Rem,” Emile said.

“Well, your grandfather certainly hasn’t endeared himself to me any,” Remy growled.

Emile flinched. “Rem, please,” he said softly.

Remy’s tone softened but his eyes didn’t leave the road. “I don’t want you dragged through the wringer, mio amore.”

“I volunteered,” Emile said weakly.

“Willingly? That’s kinda worse, mio amore,” Remy shot back. “What would Sue say about you willingly putting yourself in harm’s way?”

“Actually, Sue and I talked about this and the ways it could go after my panic attack,” Emile said, straightening in his seat. “She said that as long as I wasn’t going into this with the goal of hurting myself, then it was worth talking to Grandpa. How would Fern feel about you jumping to the conclusion that I’m doing this to hurt myself?”

“She would say it’s your choice,” Remy said. “But given the facts I told her... she also called you a bit of a hopeless romantic. And a dumbass. She also gave me full permission to drag you out of the room if I heard raised voices or crying.”

Emile blinked. “That’s why you asked?!”

Remy smirked, just a bit. “Well, she said her permission meant nothing if I didn’t get yours, too.”

Emile laughed in disbelief. “No wonder you took a shine to her; she’s enabling you.”

“Oh, no! No, she takes no one’s shit. That includes me, mio amore. No, she doesn’t let anyone pull the wool over her eyes, and she tells it like she is. She took one look at her notes, plus Kim’s when she got them, and looked me dead in the eye, promptly asking, ‘So, how long would you say the abuse has been going on?’” Remy laughed. “I love her so much. As a therapist, of course. I will not run off into the sunset with her. I’d prefer to do that with you, Emile.”

Emile shook his head, swallowing. “She sounds like a good therapist.”

“Yeah. What did Sue tell you? Beyond talking about possible outcomes, of course,” Remy said.

Emile blinked back tears. “She said...” Emile’s voice grew thicker. “She said...to be realistic. To not put all my eggs in the happy basket, because based on what she heard, and her past clients’ experience, this usually doesn’t shake out well.” Tears were falling down his cheeks and Remy pulled over to the curb in a flurry. “I don’t want him to be mad at me, Rem. I don’t.”

Emile sounded like such a lost little kid in that moment, that Remy couldn’t help but hug him close. “It’s gonna be okay,” Remy said. “Even if you don’t get the outcome you wanted. It’s gonna be okay.”

“How can you...be so sure?” Emile sobbed.

“Because I’ve been there, Emi,” Remy said. When Emile looked up at Remy, Remy’s heart broke, but he continued. “I’ve been there. And yeah, it hurts like hell if your family doesn’t accept you. I’ll be honest: even if your grandfather acknowledges you’re bi and I’m his grandson-in-law, odds are he won’t be happy about it. Take little victories where you can, and if he comes to the wedding? Great. Work on him being happy for us at a later date. He can grow to love the both of us together, but it will most likely take more time than just three months.”

Emile looked at Remy like he had all the answers in the universe, and Remy was a little terrified. “Now, your parents are expecting us, and we don’t want to keep them waiting too long. But if you need a second, or a minute, even...”

“Yeah,” Emile said softly, shamefully. “Yeah, I need a minute.”

“There’s no shame in that, understand?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emile said dismissively.

“I’m serious here, Emile,” Remy said sternly.

Emile sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know,” he said. “But I can’t accept that right now.”

Remy nodded, opened the glove box, and passed Emile some tissues. Emile dabbed at his face while Remy flicked the channels on the radio. He would kill for some slow, smooth, jazzy song that he could slow-dance with Emile to, even if that was a tad impractical in the car.

When Emile had composed himself, Remy kept driving. He fiddled more with the radio, observed the same five restaurants that were staples in every city, and contemplated calling August at Sleep Easy to ask how things were going, just to stall the inevitable. But if Emile was ready, then Remy had to be ready, too. Remy was going to back Emile one hundred percent, even if he was a bit of a hopeless dumbass when he picked his battles.

Remy drove up to Emile’s parents house, but when he turned to Emile, he realized he may have wanted to make the drive longer. Emile was ash-white and shaking, staring at the house like it was on fire, and he was just told to run in without any protective gear to save two kids on opposite sides of the second floor. Remy unbuckled his seat belt, and put a reassuring hand on Emile’s arm. “You’ve got this,” he said softly. “I’ll go in first, you come in when you’re ready.”

Emile swallowed, nodded.

Remy mirrored the nod, looking far more confident than he felt as he stepped out of the car, onto the curb, and closed the car door. He leaned against the car a minute, observing the house. He never really had before, but then again, he never had reason to stall either. Remy popped a piece of gum in his mouth and kicked off the car, putting on that “flamboyant, unflappable gay” persona he used when he needed to pretend he couldn’t care less about what was going on.

His shoes sunk into the grass, but the front yard wasn’t a swamp. Remy dimly remembered Mom mentioning something about it raining yesterday, before they had gotten to the heart of their conversation about Emile and his grandfather...

“Look, Mom, I’m worried about him. Emile cares about him a great deal, and either his grandfather takes that for granted, or worse, he just doesn’t care. I don’t want Emile’s heart to be crushed come tomorrow.”

Mom had tutted and reassured Remy the best she could, but Remy could hear the doubt in her own voice.

Mom and Dad had come to the door to greet him, and he grinned, all big and flashy and fake, but he did pick his head up a little more as he saw them, and he noticed Dad’s smile relax a little bit as Remy straightened. Dad knew what he was doing, and Emile had no doubt warned Dad and Mom both about Remy acting off in defense of this well and truly anxiety-inducing situation.

He hugged them both with a laugh, sharing the usual pleasantries. Remy straightened and saw Emile’s grandfather standing behind them, and he pulled down his sunglasses, peering over them to glare at Emile’s grandfather. “You hurt Emile, my guy, and I’ll make you wish you had never been born, m’kay?”

As Emile’s grandfather twitched, Remy smirked inwardly, continuing to chew his gum. “Surely, you’re not the same... boyfriend Emile had at that Christmas?” Emile’s grandfather asked.

Remy laughed and took off his sunglasses, walking inside. “Oh, that’s me, sweets. I just don’t act nice around people who hurt my fiancé.”

Emile’s grandfather flinched at the word fiancé, and Remy grinned, all teeth. Good. Let him be uncomfortable.

“Remy,” Dad warned, and Remy turned to him, prepared to continue being snarky and sarcastic until he saw the warning look he was getting. The fight drained from him and he sighed. Dad put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’ve had similar hurts in the past, but there’s no need to go full feral right out the gate.”

Remy felt like he might pass out. “I guess you’re right. Forcing Emile out of the car before he’s ready because I instigated a fight would not leave a good impression.”

“No,” Dad agreed softly.

“Similar...hurts?” Emile’s grandfather asked.

“Well, yeah,” Remy said, swallowing his gum and sighing. “Not that it’s any of your business, but my mother came to my and Emile’s house, berating me and calling me slurs, exclaiming that I was going to Hell for being gay. So when you pull the same shit that manipulative, abusive witch pulled...well. Forgive me if I get a little twitchy.”

Emile’s grandfather looked mildly horrified, and wanted to say something, but Emile ran across the yard. “Remy! Remy!” he exclaimed. “I just realized you took that gum out of your pocket, please tell me Grandpa is still alive!”

“He is,” Remy said. The implied For now might as well have been verbalised.

“Okay,” Emile breathed, grabbing Remy’s hand. “Thank you. For, uh, not killing him on sight.”

“You didn’t do it to my parents, I figured you’re owed that same courtesy,” he said, glancing at Emile.

Emile’s grandfather flinched again. “Do you...truly see me as so abhorrent that I deserve to be killed?” he asked.

“I believe that those who hurt others shouldn’t be allowed around those they hurt,” Remy said, stepping closer to Emile. “And while we can argue about the morals behind murder all day, it is still illegal in the eyes of the law, and I’d like to be married to my fiancé outside of prison.”

“That doesn’t...answer my question,” Emile’s grandfather said.

Remy laughed hollowly. “All due respect, but Dad told me to pull the reins back on the hostility. If I told you what I truly think, I’m pretty sure we would fall right back into hostile territory.” Which was more or less a fancy way of saying yes, and everyone in the room knew it, as the temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

Emile’s grandfather gave Remy an unreadable stare. “Very well,” he said stiffly. “Given what you’ve said to me, I think it’s safe to presume that you would rather not deal with me. As such, I’d like to cut straight to the chase and speak to Emile. Alone,” he added, when Remy opened his mouth to speak.

Remy flushed red, but Emile squeezed Remy’s hand. Remy turned to Emile and silently asked, Surely, you don’t expect me to take this sitting down?

I’ll be fine, Emile said with a downward tilt of his chin.

Oh, like hell you will, Remy scoffed.

“Remy, that’s rude,” Emile said. “I can handle my own. I’ll be fine. Besides, you have permission from me and Fern, remember?”

That did make Remy feel marginally better, but not better enough to fully accept the situation. Mom walked up and gently pulled Remy away from Emile. “Let the boys have their discussion, Remy. Can you show me how to make one of your famous cups of coffee, provided we have the stuff that you use to make it?”

“You two, don’t touch my stove!” Dad squawked, following Mom as she dragged Remy to the kitchen. Remy watched as Emile’s grandfather awkwardly put a hand between Emile’s shoulder blades and together they walked to the living room.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~82

~*~Emma~*~

I awoke to see Sebastian laying on his side, leaning onto his elbow, with his head propped up on his hand. Diffuse sunlight filled the room and clearly showed me his face. He didn’t look sleepy. His face was relaxed with the slightest smile. Who knows how long he'd been watching me sleep. That thought made me smile.

He jerked his head up a little, "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I like seeing you when I wake up and knowing you'll be the last person I see before I fall asleep. And I'm excited about everything in between."

"The Louvre, dinner on the Seine, cabaret. Fun day."

I shook my head with a frown, "No, not what we're doing. I'm excited to spend the day with you." Sebastian closed his eyes, smiled a little wider, and took a few breaths. I knew what he was doing. He was taking in my words, feeling them, believing them. Before he opened his eyes, I moved closer to kiss him. "Je t'aime."

"I know that one." His fingers ran through my hair, smoothing the morning disarray. "In how many languages can you tell me you love me?"

I gasped and held my mouth open, "Just three, but now I have a goal."

"Crazy girlfriend."

I rolled on top of him, "Just about you." I did exactly what you’re supposed to do when you're naked in bed laying on top of a naked man.

I tickled him.

Our tickle fight lasted until we were laughing so hard it was hard to breathe. That and when Sebastian pinned my hands to the bed. "Je veux te faire l 'amour." He kissed me and pressed his erection closer between my legs. "I have a good memory too."

I don't know how it gets better than this. Waking up in Paris, with a gorgeous man watching me sleep, making love, then sitting on the terrace in big fluffy robes having coffee and croissants.

The guide at The Louvre was knowledgeable but a little stuffy. We spent much of the tour hanging back with another couple laughing inappropriately. The museum was incredible and we stayed around after the tour to revisit areas and check out some places not included. Sebastian liked items where I was mesmerized by the vibrant colors of the paintings. Lunch today would become our go-to. Pick up something near to and find a spot to sit in the park. Food and people watching was always a good time.

We headed back to the hotel to fool around before dressing for dinner. On the boat, we were seated by the window. We headed to the upper deck with a glass of wine for sunset. Last night's sunset view was unforgettable for many reasons. Tonight's was more beautiful with the lights of the city and bridges. It was romantic in a more refined way. Last night was casual clothes sneaking kisses in the dark. Tonight was dressed up, high heels, and elegant stemware. Kisses weren't as sneaky in the wide open space. The food was delicious. We started with duck foie gras and Scottish salmon. My main was scallops with sweet potato risotto and seaweed cream. Sebastian promised to save me from the seaweed if it triggered me. He went for a filet of beef, pea pudding, and veal gravy. The aroma from the fresh bread with the cheese course was mouth watering. Sebastian enjoyed my excitement and took more pictures of me eating cheese than anything else except drinking wine. For dessert, we decided one decadent and one fresh. A white chocolate raspberry lychee sphere and lemon basil tart. I nearly had to stab Sebastian with a fork for hogging all the sphere. The return trip was dark. Only the lights of the city and running lights illuminated to boat.

The night included a visit to a cabaret. That the Moulin Rouge was more touristy led us to the Crazy Horse. Still famous, but not the most sought after. We'd been told the Moulin Rouge was over the top and Crazy Horse more subtle. That may be true, but one important detail was left out. The dancers at the Crazy Horse were often naked. Sexy dance numbers, visual effects, and vibrant light shows. At times the lights were the only clothes. Darkness was used strategically as was glow in the dark body paint. What I noticed was all the women were in Louboutin, which lead me to believe the lingerie was expensive as well. There was a part with a very good looking man stripping. It was more funny than sexy. The combination of erotic dance and risqué humor kept both of us entertained

We talked about our favorite parts on the ride back to the hotel. Sebastian opened the door, letting me walk by into the hotel, "Is it wrong that I asked where the lingerie was from?"

"I wondered, but didn't think to ask. I loved the black bodysuit with all the straps."

"So did I."

Imagine my shocked face. You'd have to imagine because I wasn’t making that face. I waited until we were in the room to ask, "Did you find out where this shop is?"

He pulled his phone out and went to maps. A slow smile formed, "About two blocks. Across from Dior."

I folded my legs under me and sat on the couch. "Fun."

He sat next to me. He was fiddling with the bottom hem of his shirt. He was nervous. "Are you running up a crazy credit card bill to amuse me?"

What a sweety. My recent shopping habits didn’t match my teacher salary. I guess we were going to have this conversation. "My grandfather has it set up where his stock dividends are split between the grandchildren. It's paid out quarterly and there's no way to know how much, so I've never factored it into my budget. It goes into a savings account. I have a rule that it's only for fun. I took Angie and Eli with me to Hawaii. After a horrible start to the year, Malory and I went to Key West." I grimaced, "I don't remember much of that trip. And if I want to go shopping I can. I do appreciate your concern." I leaned over and kissed him. "There is a trust fund, but I can't touch that until I'm thirty. That's partly why it was important to go off on my own. I grew up with money, so when Jimmy said I couldn't take care of myself I needed to prove it to myself, even though I know it wasn’t completely on my own."

Sebastian interrupted, "Don't diminish what you’ve done. You started over in a new place where you knew no one or even where to grocery shop. You've got a Master's and accepted into a Doctoral program. Anyone who thinks you can't take care of yourself is wrong."

This fierce defense was very attractive. Money can be embarrassing. I realize I'm privileged, and I try not to behave like a trust fund baby. I would never go shopping as I had with anyone but Angie. I know it was a splurge.

“I just wanted to check.” I wanted to ask what if I had been, but he kept going, and I didn’t feel the need to stop him. “Back to the fun stuff. Is it bad form to buy you a gift that's really for me?"

"For my birthday or Christmas, yes. Otherwise, no. I'm not sure that sexy lingerie that gets you hard isn't as much a benefit to me as it is you."

"You realize you in sweatpants and a t-shirt gets me hard. You in a bathrobe. You in a potato sack."

"I wonder who that says more about?" We laughed and I laid across him, counting on him to support me. "It does make us both lucky."

"Oh, don't I know it."

We spent the next day touring Versailles Palace. We jumped off the tour to explore as soon as we hit the outskirts of the city. When we were out of interesting places we jumped on the metro until we saw something new to explore. Dinner was at this Ping Pong cafe. The food was delicious and fortified us for the play to come. I am just as competitive playing ping pong with my boyfriend as I am on a volleyball court. There was a lot of trash talking. What made it more fun was how truly awful we both were. Neither was sure of the rules so we argued over and made them up as we went. In the end, I lost due to a combination of unsuccessful attempts at cheating and Sebastian being slightly less awful than me. Our overly dramatic antics did amuse nearby patrons and when Sebastian was recognized he was gracious in conversation and signing autographs. We made it to the Pont Alexandre III bridge just as the sun set. It was ornate and a beautiful end to the day.

Next up was a day of museums and checking out wherever in between. We met up with a guide in the afternoon for a walking tour of Art Nouveauarchitecture. On our way back to the hotel we passed by the lingerie shop. A quick discussion later we decided not to go in. It would ruin some of the fun if the other knew what we bought. I also decided I needed to find some sexy underwear for him. I checked; he'd wear them. Dinner was my responsibility tonight. I found a rooftop restaurant with a great wine list and an even better view.

Tuesday, the day before the fashion shows, was the day I was looking most forward to. It was an early start and long trip to Mont Saint Michel. Claire had hired us a car and we napped most of the trip. The town is a tidal island and when the tide comes in it covers the causeway, only cutting off access for about an hour, but still. We parked at the tourism office and took off our shoes for the half mile walk over the mudflats. It didn’t look like a dangerous trek, but apparently, quicksand was real here.

We weren't far into our walk when Sebastian asked, "Is this Hogwarts?"

Our guide laughed, "No, but yes. The movie was not filmed here but as you will see much of the architecture is similar and the street does resemble Diagon Alley."

Sebastian looked at me, "Did you know?"

I shook my head, "I love gothic architecture and castles. Versailles was incredible, but this is a hundred times better. Stonework, stained glass, the high pointed arches." I grabbed onto his arm, bouncing on my toes. "I'm so excited. This is surreal." I held my hand out toward the Abbey. "Look at this, I mean, look at this."

He was smiling at me, "Should take you home to Romania. Lots of castles."

"Don't tease me." I let go of him and walk to stand in a small puddle. The water was cool and the sand squished between my toes. I felt like I was in the bubble from my favorite guided meditation. I put my arms out with my shoes dangling off my fingers and twirled. I stopped facing Sebastian. He had his phone out, pointed at me. "What are you taking pictures of?"

"You." He laughed, "With a castle island thingy in the background."

I heard the guide say, "Your mademoiselle is much more beautiful than the background."

Sebastian nodded, "That she is."

I walked back to them and reached for his hand. He handed his phone to our guide to take a couple of pictures before we headed on.

I was in absolute heaven. Even more so when I saw Sebastian as in awe as I was with the narrow cobblestone streets and stairways that appeared out of nowhere. Our guide had stories and let us lead, only giving direction if we were missing something. He took the lead when we approached the Abbey and guided us through spaces as tiny as closets and large as cathedrals. The arches along the walkway did look like a scene off the bridge in Hogwarts.

Our guide left us at the end of the Abbey tour and after lunch, we walked the ramparts and worked our way around looking at everything and nothing. Talking and laughing.

It wasn’t long into the ride back that I realized my thighs were aching. "What is it with Paris and stairs?"

"There's a fuck ton of them." Sebastian smirked and leaned in to kiss the side of my neck. "I will be happy to massage your thighs when we get back."

"Stretch them out?"

"Definitely."

We both retreated into our phones for a while. Neither had paid attention to them since we got here. The return trip was good for nudging each other to show a picture we took. I texted my chosen family and sent pictures. Sebastian was doing the same thing. He showed me responses on his group chat.

Charles ~ You took her to Paris? Chace ~ You can't take a woman to Paris for a first vacation Will ~ Go big or go home Toby ~ That's it. I need to meet her. Charles ~ Find a date and take the last bedroom in the villa. Toby ~ Chace, wanna go to an island with me? Chace ~ Do I have to put out? Toby ~ What do you think? Will ~ Who has the lube? Chace ~ I bet there's some in Paris.

I'd lowered my phone while I read his. Sebastian pointed to my screen, "What is that?"

"It's that app we made the list on the train."

"You need to send me the list."

"I can do better than that. Can I have your phone?" He handed it over and I went into the app store, installed, and signed into the app under my user name. "Now you can see, edit, add." I kept typing while he looked around. There was more than a sexual to do list. I was currently adding to a notebook called "Moments".

"Can I add to this?" Sebastian was in the same notebook.

"Sure." I bit my lip, "I had a thought. You can say it's stupid or you don't want to."

He put his hand on my leg, "What?"

"I was thinking since we're going to be apart for a while, we could write to each other. Not like texts talking about our day. I'd write things I want you to remember or know. When I'm missing you, I could write a couple of sentences to you or go read what you've written to me. Not any expectation of how often. Just a place for sweet things, sexy things."

I'd gotten the idea while thinking about distance and time zones and insecurity. Perusing old texts is good, but a one-stop place for just love notes is better.

"I love it." He brought me to him and met me for a kiss. "Is this for me or you?"

I had no problem with him knowing I was planning for our time apart. "You saw my love notes from high school. I love them. Texts get lost in a hundred other texts. We can even copy texts over. Pictures. You keep a gratitude journal. This is similar."

"Did you make that up?"

I shrugged, "I doubt it." I showed him how to navigate and create new notebooks. Our first notebook was "Sex To Do" We'd done that together. The one I’d been in, "Moments”, was short form memories. "Holding hands for nine hours with food and conversation.", "Waking in Paris to see you watching me sleep”, "Me showing you architecture", "You showing me artifacts".

Sebastian immediately knew something he wanted to add, I showed him how to create space between limes so he could insert his words. He was going to write in burgundy and me in navy blue. He created a notebook for longer things. He liked to write and wanted a place for more words.

I waited until he’d gotten down a thought before showing him what I'd been most excited for. "Things for Sebastian." I’d already started.

· Te iubesc, Sebasti-an

· I was so lucky to find a lost boy in a grocery store

· You always make me feel cherished and safe

"This one is for battling insecurities. You can read my words and know what you mean to me. You've said you struggle with distance, insecurity, feeling emotionally cut off. I thought this might help keep a connection."

"You've made a security journal."

I thought a moment, "I guess. We've hit a couple of bumps and worked through them. I hoped this may help keep it away over distance."

I watched him switch notebooks and read what I'd written. "Anything I write shows up for you?"

"Yes, once the app refreshes.”

Sebastian looked over with the softest smile I'd ever seen on him. "I love you." The softest kiss followed. "I tell you I'm looking for the perfect moment to kiss you and you create it. I tell you I have confidence issues and you tell me everyone hears that voice. I have a panic attack and you push me to take care of myself. I lay out my anxieties, overthinking, insecurity, and history of shutting women out and you don’t even blink. Now you come up with this way to stay connected with old-fashioned love notes." He bobbed his head back and forth. "More or less." He kissed me. "You want me to feel safe and loved."

I took a deep breath, "Partly." I was telling him my plan to battle his stuff so it was only fair I let him in on mine.

He looked at me questioningly.

"I've never been away from some I love for six weeks. I'm going to miss you and it's going to be hard. This is for me too." I am not going to cry.

His hand went under my hair to my neck, "Are you about to cry?"

"I'm trying not to, but the chance of tears Friday about noon is one hundred percent."

I let him pull me close enough to kiss, "I better get busy." He retreated to his side of the seat, stretching out a leg over my lap, and turning where I couldn't see what he was typing on his phone.

"You realize the whole point is I can see what you write."

"Don't refresh yet. I don't think we should tell each other when we add stuff."

I nodded my agreement.

He stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth like he was thinking. He typed a bit then looked over, "If I miss you in the middle of the night, I can write you and it will be there when you wake up. I don’t know which I’m looking more forward to. Writing or reading.”

I didn’t either.

#sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x ofc #marvel actor fanfiction #three days

[missdawnandherdusk]

Tale As Old As Time

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part One    Part Two    Part Three    Part Four    

Part Five    Part Six    Part Seven    Part Eight

Part Nine   Part Ten

Summary: The Yule Ball is finally here and maybe just once you get to be the princess in a fairy tale.

A/N: Guys, guys, this chapter IS SO SWEET AND SOFT AND I’M ASDKJDADGAD anyway. Hello to those of you who are new! I love you all so much (and if anyone would like context or a visual for this chapter see Cinderella or ya know your favorite Disney princess dance sequence... there are so many) I love you all! Please let me know what you think! Also catch this on AO3 soon!!

Tags: @un-limiteddd @geekysimmerthings @coffee-addicti @ilikestuffproductions @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @dolphincommander @bisexualbumblebeesstuff @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland @shookyungsoo @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey @theres-a-dog-outside-omg @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @dietkiwi @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen @mccloudchloe @hxneybgb @justsomerandomgur​ @belcvayelena​ @moviesbooksandfandoms​ @howdycharlie​ @littlethingsinmymindla​

Christmas Eve and it seemed like the week had passed faster than the week before. Between finding a last-minute present—and a letter to Mrs. Weasley to see if a miracle could really happen—and wrapping the ones I already had, I was exhausted come Christmas Eve, so I did what I did every year: I read a book.

“So, do you have a dress for the Ball?” Hermione asked as we lounged in the Common Room watching the boys play chess.

“Yeah, my mother sent me one, it was the parcel I got the other morning,” I noted, my eyes not leaving my book—A Christmas Carol.

It was the evening before the Ball as well, and we were enjoying the buzz of the common room as Christmas approaching in the morning had everyone in a stupor. I had seen Draco at dinner, but Hermione stole me back for the evening, well, she tried.

Penelope swooped in and a letter landed in my lap.

“Oh, come on, I just got you back in here,” Hermione groaned. “Doesn’t he have his own party at Slytherin?”

“Maybe he’s invited her. I’ve heard so much about how good Slytherin parties are,” Ron looked up hopefully.

I smiled and rolled my eyes, breaking the seal and opening the letter. 

~

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower as soon as you can, dress warm. 

Draco

~

Three pairs of eyes were on me.

“I... have to go?” I offered sheepishly.

“A party?” Ron asked.

“No, just... never mind. It’s not a party.” I shrugged as I got up and stretched.

Grabbing my winter boots, scarf and fur lined jacket—that my mother also sent—I headed own the drafty halls and up to the Astronomy Tower.

“Draco?” I called as I reached the top step. He turned, a smile making its way to his face.

“Hey,” He helped me up the stair, taking my gloved hand in his. “These are new?” He mused, eyeing the black leather fur lined gloves.

“Mother sent them; someone must have told her that I was cold.” I gave him a side eyed look. He chuckled and pulled me close

“So, the ball is tomorrow,” He began

“Yes, that is how time works,” I mused. “I believe it is Christmas as well,”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten,” He scoffed with a smile. “And I assume, since you weren’t... here growing up, I assume you have no idea how to dance,” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, and you do?” I scoffed.

“Yes,” He answered simply. “This isn’t my first Ball Y/n,”

“So, you’ve danced with other girls before?” I raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t as jealous as I let off, it was just fun to watch him scramble over something so simple.

“Yes,” He sounded strained.

I smiled and pulled him to the center of the walkway, pulling him close.

“Teach me then,” I took his hand and he pulled me close, into first position. “You’re right, I have never danced before,” I confessed.

“I know,” He mused. “This is going to be horrendous,”

A laugh escaped his lips and mine. I sighed and took his hand as his other rested on my waist and mine on his shoulder. Music came from somewhere, but I didn’t question it, I was too focused on not stumbling.

“It’s a pattern,” He told me. “One, two, three, four,” He instructed.

It took a few—hundred—tries, but Draco was persistent. Soon I was tripping over my own feet less and spinning around the Tower laughing as I danced almost flawlessly in sweatpants. Now only if I could do it in heels and a dress.

Draco pulled me in and be began to speed up the pace, leading me into new steps before his hands moved quickly and he easily dipped me.

“Draco!” I exclaimed and gripped for him as he righted me.

“Did you think I was going to let you fall?” He teased as our dance stilled, the two of us closer than ever.

“Haven’t you already?” I asked, my hands drifting to their familiar place around his neck.

“Have you fallen for me then, Miss Lupine?” He asked softly, the electric current growing stronger as the distance between us closed.

Staring into blue eyes, I felt the coolness of a river, and the gentle waves of the ocean, comforting me with their chill. An entire world laid behind them, one that I yearned to explore and know every part of.

“I think so,” I whispered the confession. “A Lupine and a Malfoy,” I scoffed softly. 

“What an idea,” He pondered. “To fall for someone like you,”

I smiled and pressed my lips softly to his, basking in his warmth. Now that we had stopped dancing, the winter air began to seep through my clothes. When I shivered, he pulled away and chuckled.

“You know, with all the spell and potions and charms out there, you would think there would be something to keep you warm,” Draco baited.

“I have you, don’t I?” “I suppose you do,”

Draco walked me back to the Gryffindor portrait in comfortable silence. Another fleeting goodnight kiss and I was far from being cold.

“I’ll meet you here tomorrow then? Seven forty-five?”

“Are you sure about this Draco... your father and the Ball...” I looked down, still worried.

“Stop it Y/n,” He chided. “It will be fine. We’re safe here.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Now go get some rest.”

“Goodnight Draco,” I whispered. “And Merry Christmas,”

He eyed me and an amused smirk played at his lips.

“Happy Christmas,” I couldn’t tell if it was a correction or if he had meant it. “Goodnight Y/n,” 

Again, we exchanged a glance, three words unspoken between us: I love you. 

_____________________________

Draco woke early Christmas morning to Penelope fluttering annoyed at his side, cooing for attention. He had half the idea to shove her off the bed and go back to sleep, but you couldn’t really push a bird anywhere and expect it to stay away.

Groaning and sitting up, he saw that Penelope was sitting upon two parcels, and a letter accompanying each. It dawned on him that it was Christmas morning, not just any morning, and these must be from you.

Taking the one that had your letter attached—marked by your red wax seal—he opened the letter.

~

Merry Christmas Draco,

We had these sweets (we called them candy) in America, I had my mother send me some, and thought you might want to try them. Sour Patch Kids are my favorite, I’m not one for chocolate, but I did include some for you to try. If not, I’m sure Crabbe or Goyle wouldn’t mind having them.

Mother also sent all of my Latin books to you because you seemed interested in it the other night. Please be careful with them, they’re worth more than you can imagine, they belonged to my great great something grandfather. I will kill you if you ruin them. Though I suppose they are yours now... still.

And, from me... well, I got you a fountain pen. It was my grandfathers, a gift from a Muggle. I know, I know. But, it’s so small, and very useful. You use it like a quill and ink, but it doesn’t splotch or smear and dries instantly. I rewrite all of my class notes with a pen so that they’re neat, and I thought you might appreciate one as well. If you don’t want it, that’s fine too...

I hope you have a merry—happy Christmas morning. I await our dance tonight, 

Yours,

Y/n

P.S. I sent a letter to Mrs. Weasley as well and I do believe that she sent you one of her hand knitted sweaters, so don’t be surprised if you get one. It was me. Again, if you don’t want it... it’s okay. I know it’s a lot.

~

Draco tossed the letter aside and tore open the package that accompanied it. Inside, as you had said, was a few thick books, come colorful plastic wrapped candy, and a long black velvet box.

Taking the box, he discarded the lid and nestled inside was a sleek silver cylindrical object. Removing it, Draco stared at the small thing, wondering what use it had and how had Muggles ever used this when ink and quill worked just fine.

Pulling of the cap as he would an inkwell, a small golden tip greeted him, similar to the ends of his quills, but less fragile. Taking your letter, he leaned it against one of the books you have gifted to him and he wrote his name with the pen.

It glided easily across the page, leaving dark ink in its wake, spelling his name delicately. There was no need to dip it back into an inkwell, and running his finger over it, he discovered that it didn’t smear or stain his fingers.

As much as he wanted to hate it and dismiss it, claiming that nothing smart logical or good came from Muggles, he couldn’t. This pen was something else. It was useful. And he hated it. But he also loved that it was from you and that you had clearly spent a lot of time trying to figure out what would prove worth to him even though it was Muggle.

He set the pen back into the box and placed it on his desk. Having a good idea what was in the other package and who it was from, he begrudgingly opened the letter attached.

~

Mr. Draco

I was quite surprised when I got a letter from Miss Y/n asking for her to make this for you, but I couldn’t say no to her—she is quite persuasive and truly seems to care about you having a good Christmas this year and who was I to refuse?

Have a Happy Christmas Draco, because someone out there really cares for you. 

Mrs. Weasley

~

Dreading opening the package, knowing exactly what was inside, Draco opened the parcel and found an emerald green and grey striped knitted sweater. There was no sign of the god-awful initial of his first name. No, it was just a normal sweater, as if you knew what to ask for and what he would wear.

A smile touched his lips as he slipped the sweater over his head and picked up the book you sent: Wheelock’s Latin. Flipping through a few pages he could see you steady writing in notes littering the margins and little bookmarks placed in odd places to him.

The room around him started to come alive as the others around him awoke, and began to tear through their presents, but he remained on his bed in his own little bubble, leafing through the books and making his way through the American sweets you had sent—particularly enjoying something called Mike and Ikes.

Because of you, he had one of the best Christmas mornings that he had in a long while. He hoped that you were as well.

___________________________

The excitement of the morning had me awake earlier than normal and I saw that Hermione was already awake. Smiles spread across our faces as we wished another a Merry Christmas then began to open the presents that laid at the foot of our beds.

Hermione had gotten me a book—the same book that I had taken from Malfoy in the library— “so that you can have your own” she explained. Harry and Ron had joined together and gotten me a new set of inkwell and quill and a bound book of parchment in emerald and gold. Mrs. Weasley went above and beyond as normal with snacks and the usual sweater; this year it was a deep red with a forest green trim and gold accents. There was another set of graphite pencils and sketchbook from my mother and new diamond earrings from my grandparents.

On its own, on my bedside table was a small package in silk green wrapping and a letter with a matching green seal. My heart fluttered as I picked it up, knowing that it was from Draco. I hope that he had gotten what I had sent and that he had accepted it.

Opening the letter, it was short and unbearably sweet:

~

Dearest Y/n,

For you, to remind you that we are more than names and houses. 

Happy Christmas. I’ll see you tonight,

Yours,

Draco

~

Smiling I opened the small box and inside cushioned was a necklace. It held neither an emerald nor ruby, instead a sapphire, the color of the sea, the color of his eyes, the feeling of Animi Amoris. On a delicate silver chain and lain in a diamond encrusted heart the sapphire sat, smiling at me.

“Oh Draco,” I murmured softly.

“What he get you?” Hermione asked, grinning, coming over to my bed in her Weasley sweater.

I showed her the necklace, not letting it leave my hold.

“He really is a sap, isn’t he?” Hermione sighed

“Yeah, he is,” I smiled, putting the necklace on. “He’ll never admit it though.”

Harry and Ron met up with Hermione and me in the common room, and we went down to breakfast together. I didn’t catch sight of Draco at breakfast and I wondered where he was. Deciding not to fret too much I spent the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their presents—as I was, starting to sketch with my mother’s present.

Lunch was just as extravagant and featured so many turkeys I wondered exactly how long it had taken for them all to be cooked. I did see Draco at lunch, but other than a wave and a smile, there was no time for a proper hello in the fervor of the festivities, not that we didn’t try.

Time flew and soon Hermione and I were up in the Gryffindor Tower getting ready for the Ball. I had to help her with her hair and makeup, knowing a bit more in the area.

“He asked you out last night to teach you to dance?” She squeaked. “That is the cutest thing, I honestly don’t believe it,”

I rolled my eyes and pinned her hair into place.

“I think he’s been so worried about keeping up his reputation that he doesn’t know who to be, ya know? He doesn’t have the parents we do... or the friends. He’s just...” I trailed off.

“I understand, it’s just odd.” Hermione smiled.

“Yeah, but he’s still himself... just good.” I placed the final pin. “There, that should stay for the rest of... well forever.” I grinned. “No one will know it’s you Cinderella,” I teased.

“Oh, and who does that make you?

“Your fairy godmother of course,” I mocked a bow

“I’m pretty sure that makes you Belle and you’re living Beuaty and the Beast,” She pointed out mischievously.

I laughed and started to work on her makeup. She then helped me curl my hair and place it into a plaited bun. It was great fun. I teased her about Krum, and she teased me right back about Draco. We finally had time to sit and talk without anyone prying and without a deadline.

The time came and we both got into our dresses, doing finishing touches. Hermione held herself higher as we looked in the mirror, her periwinkle dress playing off of my crimson red one. Draco’s necklace hung at the hollow of my chest.

We both left the fray a bit early, I had to meet Draco and she had to meet Krum. Just as he had promised, Draco met me outside the Common Room, looking nervous and very handsome. His suit was well tailored, the stark black and white playing off another.

“Wow,” He breathed out, making me look down, blushing the color of my dress.

“My mother does have a dramatic flair, doesn’t she?” I asked, running my fingers through the layers of tulle and speckled diamonds that danced in the candlelight.

“I don’t think she has anything to do with how breathtaking you look right now,” Draco offered his hand.

I took it, taking careful graceful steps in the heels that my mother also sent me.

“You look quite handsome as well,” I complimented. “Quite a change from school uniforms is it not?”

“One that I rather enjoy,” He smiled as I held onto him, descending the stairs toward the Great Hall entrance.

Everyone in the hall stopped with the sight of us, gawking. A hush fell over the crowd as we entered the mass of students, all dressed for the occasion, all gaping—or glaring—at the two of us. I tried to not let it bother me, but I couldn’t quite let it go.

“People are staring,” I whispered.

“Y/n I’m sure you’ve seen yourself in a mirror, you are more than worth staring at.”

I looked down, suddenly very focused on not tripping. When the Great Hall doors were opened, I caught sight of Harry and Ron with their dates, the Patil twins, and gave him a small wave as we were ushered out into the lawn.

It was captivating, the sight of it all. I leaned against Draco, marveling at the fairy lights and enchantment of it all. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

“Like a fairy tale,” I whispered, letting my eyes wander.

“Shall we then,” Draco asked, leading me to one of the front tables where my—our friends were sitting.

“If he’s the Slytherin Prince then no doubt tonight you’re the Gryffindor Princess,” Fred muttered in my ear.

I let out a small laugh and looked to Draco, who raised an eyebrow in question, but I shrugged and shook my head, taking his hand in mine. With the Triwizard champions having sat and Dumbledore beginning the feast, the Hall was filled with talking and laughter and merriment.

It was comforting, watching it all. Draco fit in with the crowed around us and Hermione and Viktor were having what seemed like the best time at one of the head tables. I was happy for her; she finally was seen on the outside who she was on the inside.

Dinner had come and passed and with a wave of his wand, Dumbledore transformed the Great Hall into a dance floor. Anxiety fluttered in my chest at the thought that I would have to dance in front of people soon.

“I can hear you worrying,” Draco murmured softly, as he stood behind me his hands at my waist.

“I have to dance,” I fretted. “I’m going barefoot, I hope you know that,”

He chuckled and nodded, whether in acknowledgement or permission, I wasn’t sure. Soon other couples began to join the champions. I broke from Draco’s hold and discarded my heels under a nearby table. When I went back, I couldn’t find Draco. My eyes scanned the crowd until I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Relaxing I turned and saw gentle blue eyes.

“May I have this dance?” Draco bowed slightly, offering his hand out again.

“You may,” I grinned and took it as he led me to the dance floor.

“I won’t let you fall,” He promised in a soft voice as we fell into a familiar pattern, learned only the night before.

The world faded around us as he guided me on the dance floor. My eyes never left his and a smile never left either of our faces. It was our own little world as we waltzed across the floor.

The moment held another sort of magic, one where we didn’t have to do anything but fall into step with another and dance upon the notes left by the music around us.

“Ready?” He whispered and I nodded.

Gently, as the music ended, he dipped me, father than before, but I wasn’t afraid. 

He wasn’t going to let me fall.

.

.

Part 12?

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco x gryffindor!reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x #slytherin x gryffindor #slytherin #weasley twins #hermione granger #gryffindor #harry potter #viktor krum #grabbe and goyle #muggles #christmas #hogwarts #yule ball #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #triwizard cup #triwizard champions #triwizard tournament #beauty and the beast #cinderella #draco deserved better #hp x reader #hp x oc

[paulfwesley]

A Split Second (Part Four) [Bryce Lahela x f!MC]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f!MC (Dr. Claire King).

Chapter Rating: T.

Word Count: 3.3K.

Description: She might not know what her faith is, but someone reminds her how to hold on to it. TW: guns, violence, blood. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. 

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices’ Open Heart. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Claire King’s background is my own creation, based off of MC in-game’s personality.

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this took so long!! And I’m also sorry because there is one more part after this XD But that will be the last part, I promise!! This chapter took on a life of its own. Bryce isn’t in it, but it’s definitely something that I realized Claire needed in the development of this story. If you’d like to be tagged please let me know! I don’t count people liking the actual post because I don’t know if that’s you wanting to be tagged XD so be sure to comment and tell me!

Tagging: @commander-rahrah @jaydito-tjjd @anotherbeingsworld @shakespeareanwannabe @bitchloveskcbaseball @wisegirl9 @rookie-ramsey @mrsdrakewalkerblog @omgjasminesimone @frenchieswiftie @jamespotterthefirst @elladines @thanialis @lucy-268 @sherrylove @bloomingsivan @lahellacute @araihc-ce @ltimeisanillusionl 

Enjoy! 

Claire’s favourite time of the year was Christmas. She loved decorating her home, she loved watching Christmas movies, she loved giving gifts, really loved getting gifts. But despite her favourite holiday centering around the birth of the figure of the religion, she didn’t know if she could call herself a Christian. 

But that didn’t stop her from sitting in the back pew of the hospital’s multi faith room. It was a small place, roughly the size of the diagnostic team’s room, with three pews on either side of the room. She had expected for there to be a giant figure of Jesus painted in stained glass on the window, but because of the place being a multi faith room, they couldn’t. A tall podium sat at the front of the room, probably for when leaders of the faith came to speak to the people desperately seeking any kind of reprieve from the worry that plagued their every waking moment. 

Admittedly there were a lot of places Claire could have gone. The cafeteria, where she could have stress ate until Bryce’s surgery was over, but with G.S.Ws there was always the chance that complications could arise, and she wasn’t sure how much her poor stomach could handle, especially when she thought about eating anything her stomach clenched. 

She briefly considered a supply closet, but she could still remember the burning shame she felt when June found her there crying her eyes out at the news of Kyra’s relapse. It was too risky, especially because of the coming and going that arose with the need for supplies in there.

Then she thought about waiting it out in the resident lounge, but there she’d be surrounded by her friends. She’d have to talk with them, listen to them give reassurances that nothing would happen to Bryce, but Claire didn’t want to listen to empty promises. Her friends had seen her in bad states before: blood soaking her scrubs, exhaustion draining her face, the occasional stench that emitted off of her when she was so caught up in a case she forgot to shower. But she didn’t want them to see her like this: eyes bloodshot, nose red, tissue tucked into her sleeve for easy access when a rack of sobs hit her like a freight train. She just wanted to be somewhere she could shut her brain off. 

That was when her mind flashed to the multi faith room. It was always quiet in here, save for the odd sniffle or sob that came out of a person while they prayed for their husband to make it through the night, their sister to make it through her surgery, their grandfather’s diagnosis to be anything but what they feared the most. Otherwise, it was a place where people came to find some shred of peace. The silence was comfortable; it was a recognition that everyone in the small room was suffering somehow, but who found companionship with each other in the sense that they all sent their pleas to a guy sitting on a cloud in the sky. 

Tonight, though, the multi faith room was surprisingly empty. Someone had to have been in there earlier, because the collection of candles that sat on the table in front of the podium were lit, the flames of each individual candle small but creating a larger, stable symbol of hope. Each candle represented an unknown person, a life no one knew, a story untold, but every tiny wick created a sense of solidarity, the knowledge that someone was thinking of you, that this point in time, there was a place in the darkness where all hope was extinguished, but burning on as a deliberate point to prove that your life mattered, that it was being prayed for, that you were being fought for. An ember to glow with the reminder that someone wanted, needed you to stay.  

All the same, she chose the pew in the very back. She huddled against the armrest, tucking her knees under her and curling into the side as much as she could. She rested her joined hands under her head in the hopes that she would be less tempted to check the watch on her wrist and despair at how long the surgery was taking. She made Dr. Emery promise that she’d page her as soon as the surgery was over, but she didn’t know how long that would take, so Claire settled in for what could possibly be the longest night of her life. 

Her eyes hurt, her head aching with exhaustion now that all the adrenaline had flushed out of her system. She was still in the blood soaked clothes she had been in when she tried to cover Bryce’s wound, but she couldn’t bring herself to get up and change out of them. Instead she lay there, the high air conditioning blasting through her clothes and stiffening the material, chafing against her chest. Still she didn’t move. Her memories of Bryce paralyzed her. 

She relieved every single moment backwards right from the moment he had been whisked into the O.R. room all the way back to the first time she had seen him in the changing room on her first day in Edenbrook, when she had no idea who he’d become to her. Back then, he was just a meat headed jockey; someone fun to hook up with, but who Claire thought was the ‘no strings attached’ type, which was fine with her, because as each day passed she found herself more and more enamored with Ethan. But then Ethan left, and Bryce stepped up to help, and she finally started to see him in a new light. No, he wasn’t the type to buy you a drink at the bar, flirt with you just the right amount, laugh when he knew you wanted him to, knew just what to say to reel you in, and then go with you back to your place and then be gone without a word before you even woke up the next morning.

No. Bryce Lahela was the type to make terrible jokes. He talked during movies. He bought shots for his friends because he had heard they were going to compete against each other. He laughed at everything you said: your good jokes, your bad jokes, especially your terrible jokes, the ones you made because you knew only he would laugh at them. He’d bring you back to his place, lavish you, make you feel warm and loved and safe, and then the next morning he’d bring you breakfast in bed to share, even if it was just toaster waffles and he ate all of the strawberries even though you pleaded for him to spare you at least one. Bryce was safe. Bryce was loving. Bryce was home. 

And she didn’t know if he’d die not knowing how much she loved him. 

The idea twinged her chest, slowly spreading through her like a parasite, devouring all threads of hope and spitting out something that was ruined and beyond repair. She squeezed her eyes shut when she felt tears brimming, and she curled herself into a smaller ball, if that was even possible. It was as if she was hoping that the more she compressed herself, the more she’d be able to crush the pain that snaked her muscles. 

She faintly heard the doors to the chapel opening. The thought of sitting up crossed her mind, because she was technically in a place of worship and she really shouldn’t have her feet up in a pew, but then she thought that this was a place people came when they were desperate, when medicine and hopeful statistics and the comforting words of doctors weren’t enough for them. Those people who were in no place to judge how she dealt with her emotions. So she kept her eyes shut, drinking in a shuddery breath through her mouth. 

Movement in the chapel, footsteps echoing softly on the carpeted floor. The footsteps grew louder, and suddenly the seat next to her dipped with a weight of someone sitting down, the body heat of their dress pants brushing against her feet. She still kept her eyes shut, though. If someone needed her presence just to feel like they weren’t alone, so be it. 

“I’ve known you for a little over a year, yet I never knew you were religious,” the agonizingly familiar voice said and Claire’s eyes immediately snapped open. She dropped her feet to the ground and sat up, turning her head so her eyes met his soft blue ones. Ethan gave her an easy smile, the look you’d give a child to reassure them that a needle was nothing to be scared of. “You didn’t peg me for the type to be singing Christmas carols about Jesus.”

Claire sniffled, blinking heavily before finally turning to face the front. “I mean, I decorate a Christmas tree and I paint Easter eggs, but I don’t know about church every Sunday or not mixing certain types of cloth.” She tilted her head back, letting her neck rest on the back of the seat. “But when I needed a place to be by myself, to be quiet, to feel some sort of peace… this is where I ended up.”

Ethan stared at her. At the wrinkles around her eyes. The dryness of her nose that came with the repeated rubbing of tissues. The redness in her swollen cheeks. “Lahela’s still in surgery.” 

Her chest dipped. When she didn’t respond, Ethan continued. “That was the last update I could get from Harper. She’s the best. She’ll do what she can for Lahela. She--”

“I don’t need you to tell me what I already know, Ethan,” she cut in dryly. The words came out harsher than she intended. She always spoke cordially with Ethan, professionally, nicely even, considering that their split hadn’t really been… amicable. But now, tonight, she didn’t have the room to decipher the lingering tightness in her chest whenever she looked at him. Any emotions she felt tonight were for Bryce, the man she had only become certain of when she was on the verge of losing him. 

Ethan went silent. “Then what do you need?”

“Just distract me.” She turned her eyes to him without lifting her head. “How did you find me here?”

“Aurora Emery saw you in here,” he responded. “She didn’t want to disturb you, though. But when I ran into her and asked if she’d seen you, she told me.”

She wasn’t sure if she should murder Aurora or thank her. She didn’t necessarily want to see Ethan but… but even after all this time, she still associated him with comfort, especially when he wasn’t open about it, which wasn’t what she wanted. 

His leg bounced, his foot tapping against the floor. “The cops were looking for you. They wanted a statement.”

She cocked a brow. “And?”

“And I told them I didn’t know where you were,” Ethan answered. He gave her a once-over, taking in her frazzled appearance. “I figured after what happened, you wouldn’t be in the mood to really talk to anyone. Besides, Sienna had already filled us in on what had happened, but they wanted an eyewitness report.”

The corner of her lips turned up slightly. “Thanks for that.”

“I know this is probably a stupid question,” he started. “But are you okay?”

“Someone pointed a gun in my face today,” she hummed. She lifted her head and gave Ethan an incredulous look. “Would you be okay?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’m honestly surprised you’re as calm as you are.”

The anger she thought she had suppressed, that she hadn’t felt in months, flashed through her. “I’m not as fragile as you think.”

“Right,” he acknowledged, the word lingering in the awkward air she had created. Claire squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her arms over her chest, sinking back into the weathered cushion while ignoring the discomfort of the wooden top. 

After a few more silent seconds, Ethan finally said, “So… Lahela, huh?”

She didn’t even bother opening her eyes. A snort escaped her lips before she could stop it. “It’s a little late to play the jealous ex, don’t you think?” 

“No, I know,” Ethan quickly backtracked, his tone filled with alarm, but with a forlorn undertone that Claire only recognized because she was well versed in the language of Ethan Ramsey. “I just meant… he’s a good guy, if you had to pick someone.”

Claire couldn’t help but wonder if Ethan was trying to imply that he wasn’t a good guy, but she didn’t have the strength or energy to launch into that discussion. Instead, she said, “He is a good guy. The best, really. It just took me a while to see it.” Her shoulders deflated. “Too long, if I’m going to be honest.”

“I’m no stranger to feeling like you’ve waited too long,” Ethan said quietly. The words cut through Claire, though only deep enough to leave a superficial wound. “But I’m sure Lahela knows how you feel.”

“He doesn’t,” she retorted. She opened her eyes to see Ethan staring at her, confusion raising his brows. Claire pushed herself up so she sat properly. “He thought all he was to me was just a rebound. But he’s not. He’s everything to me. He makes me happy, feel warm, feel safe…” To her horror tears blurred her vision. She didn’t want to be the type of person that cried to her ex about her current boyfriend (though Claire wasn’t even sure that was who Bryce was to her) but here she was. Yet instead of making her feel awkward, Ethan just waited patiently, his face neutral, his eyes betraying none of the emotions she wondered he felt hearing her talk about someone else to him. He dipped his chin for her to continue, and encouraged, she did. She bit her lip to keep it from wobbling and sobbed, “But I couldn’t do the same for him. He got shot because of me.” 

Ethan put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “Rookie, pull yourself together.”

That nickname. One she hadn’t heard since her final day as an intern, when he had accidentally let it slip before correcting himself with the reminder that she was no longer an intern. It was a nickname she had loathed when he gave it to her; it made her feel impossibly small and feeling like she had to live up to it. But over time she began to associate the challenge that came with the word rookie, the drive that made her want to work harder, the validation when she realized that at some point, the word had turned from a nickname that Ethan had given her because he hadn’t known her name to a name that she had built a positive reputation around. Claire King: the Rookie of the intern year of 2019. The best of the best, the woman who refused to let herself be broken. And now, with Ethan using it just now, those feelings came rushing back to her. 

She straightened her back and instinctively raised her chin, like she was poised to report a diagnosis or defend her actions. Ethan gave her an approving smile. “Bryce didn’t get shot because of you. If he did, it was because he loved you, and he would rather it be him in pain than you.”

“But I didn’t ask him to do that!” Claire sobbed, unable to contain the despair slugging through her veins. 

“You didn’t have to,” he pointed out. “The moment Bryce had seen that gun pointing at you, he had made up his mind.”

She gave him a look. “And how do you know that?” 

“Because if it were me, I would have made the same decision,” he revealed, 

The tension was so thick in the air around them it could have been cut clean through with a knife. “Ethan…” she breathed.

“I know,” he said, whispered. The words were so simple. Short, one syllable each. Yet they were heavy, wistful, filled with the joyous memories of a life that had been, haunted by the possibilities of a future that might have been. If she wasn’t Claire King, junior fellow on the diagnostic’s team. If he wasn’t Ethan Ramsey, the country’s best diagnostician, and the leader of the diagnostic’s team. It was a truth that went unsaid, the mournful melodies hidden by the words of a promising love song. Their love was one that was fleeting, never meant to thrive, never meant to see the light of day, never meant to go beyond the secret wishes that things were different. 

She darted her gaze away from him, focusing on the stain on the patch of carpet that she was praying was coffee. Ethan cleared his throat. “You can’t blame yourself for Bryce’s choices, or even for the gunman’s choices. All you can do is have faith that Harper is amazing at her job and that Lahela is strong enough to make it through the other side.”

She chuckled humourlessly, giving the empty space around her a long look. “Ethan Ramsey, I had no idea you were such a poet.”

Ethan snorted, and that launched the both of them into a fit of laughter, tears streaming down their cheeks and clutching their aching sides. They would finally sober up, but then one of them would break again, and then that would make them lose it again. 

The door to the chapels opened, and a short old lady took one step in and turned to find the source of laughter. When her disapproving gaze landed on Ethan and Claire, they both stopped laughing. Instead of stepping inside, the woman clicked her tongue in disbelief and shook her head in disgust before stepping out. Ethan and Claire looked at each other again before dissolving into another round of laughter. 

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Claire’s laughs ceased. She wiped at the corner of her eyes. “Thank you, Ethan,” she said. “I needed that.”

“Hey, I’m a doctor,” he offered, a familiar twinkle in his eyes. “It’s my job to make people feel better.”

A smile graced her face, while the ghost of one tugged on Ethan’s lips. It was a gesture of understanding between two people who had loved and lost, and who recognized that while ending things had been the right decision, they would always need each other in their lives. It was in that moment that Claire realized that she and Ethan had needed each other, but were never meant to end up together. In Ethan, Claire had found a mentor, someone who understood her passion and who recognized her talent, who could push her to be the best she could be. In Claire, Ethan had found someone he had been wandering for years without-- a true friend. Someone who listened without judgment, who offered solutions, who reminded you of what mattered in life, someone who was just there when they needed you to be. 

And in Bryce, Claire thought, she had found a true partner. In Bryce, she had found the person she was meant to end up with, who would swing their joined hands obnoxiously while they walked down the street while she apologized to passerbys but who did it because it brought a smile to her face. In Bryce, she found someone she knew she could count on to never run away. In Bryce, she had found her soulmate. 

Her pager buzzed. The vibration froze her, rendering her unable to move. With an encouraging nod from Ethan, Claire sucked in a steadying breath. She was ready. 

She pulled her pager out of her pocket. Looked down at the words that, regardless of what they were, would change her life forever. 

He made it.

#open heart #playchoices #bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfic #bryce lahela x mc fanfic #alinas fanfic #my fanfic #choices: stories you play

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 5 (1/3)

Here I am! How was Christmas?

Previously on TWoT: A 2020 girl ends up in 1899 with a bunch of outlaws. First she freaks out. Then, she agrees in living with them. After, she begins to know the gang members, the way they think and act and among them a certain Mr. Morgan catches her attention. Now, she wants to go around, learn more about the surroundings and be an active part of the gang. 

Chapter 5 (1/3) - Playing and learning

Words: 3k

That morning Emily woke up with an urgent need: she needed to brush her teeth. She hadn’t done it in thee days and started wondering how could those people live without brushing. She had asked Mary-Beth, of course, who confirmed the existence of toothbrushes and paste, but they didn’t use it. Apparently in 1899 it was considered as something only rich people could do, because they had time and money to waste in personal hygiene. So Emily had to settle for an old friend: the chewing gum. They kindly informed her that gum was an old habit already and that the mint flavor variation appeared at least thirty years earlier, a fact that surprised her. 

After all the work Miss Grimshaw had given them the day before, there was nothing to do in camp, and when Emily said nothing, she meant nothing. Again, she questioned Mary-Beth, asking her what did they do when they didn’t work. Her answers was: nothing. They read something, wandered around, complained about the boredom, insulted each other. The last one seemed to be an important part of camp-life: instead of talking with each other, act like a group, like a family, at the first chance they had they were at each other’s throat.  

For example Emily soon understood Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen didn’t like Molly, and apparently Miss Grimshaw didn’t like her, either, but Emily couldn’t understand why. They were all women living in a difficult situation, they should have sticked together, have each other’s back. Where was their sisterhood?

When Mary-Beth returned to her book, Emily started walking among the tents, preparing herself to a day full of attempts to understand those people, the only thing she could do to avoid being bored to death. After all, she had no music, no interesting books, no TV and no Internet.

As she reached the center of the camp, she spotted Miss Grimshaw sipping something from a cup right next to the pot in company of the man who Emily learned to be Mr. Strauss, the money lender. She gulped and summoned all her courage before approaching them. That woman had something that attracted her like a moth with a lantern, the same effect Hosea had on her. 

“Good Morning, Miss Grimshaw” she said shyly.

“Morning to you” she replied.

Even when she wasn’t giving orders, the inflection of her voice was strong and straightforward. 

“Morning” said Strauss and Emily nodded as an answer.

“I-I was wondering, why everybody addresses to you with your last name, Miss Grimshaw?”

The woman seemed taken aback by that strange question and for a moment she struggled with her own thoughts.

“I guess it’s a way to show respect. Even though they don’t give me much respect apart from calling me by my last name. These new generations, they’ll be the ruin of this world.”

Emily smiled at her complaining, thinking about all the times she had heard something like that in 2020. Some things never change.

“That’s a pity, you have really a beautiful name, they should use it more often.”

Miss Grimshaw frowned.

“Are you trying to make fun of me, girl?”

“N-no, Miss Grimshaw, never! I-I… you just remind me a lot of… my mother has a similar personality. She’s not as strict as you are, b-but… she’s the one who governs the house and gives orders and taught me how to take care of myself.”

Emily talked with her head low, thinking how pathetic she was sounding.

“What about your father?” asked Mr. Strauss and Emily noticed his foreign accent.

“Oh no, my father is more like a subject” she laughed.

Then, after an embarrassing silence fell, Emily addressed Mr. Strauss.

“You have a strange accent. Where you come from?”

“Austria.”

“Really? My grandfather’s brother lived for some time in Austria after the war ended and he kept telling us how much Austrians were different from Germans. He said they were more… friendly somehow.”

“Which war?” asked Mr. Strauss.

“The… Second World War” answered Emily, but while she pronounced the words she already new they couldn’t understand.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about things you still haven’t lived.”

“Oh for Lord’s sake girl. When will you give it a rest with this nonsense?” Miss Grimshaw rebuked her.

“It’s not her fault, Susan. You can perfectly tell she really believes in her delusions” answered Mr. Strauss. 

Emily lowered her eyes and felt like she had been stabbed in the back. They didn’t believe her, but what could she expect? They seemed two down to earth people, they didn’t have the predisposition to believe her.

“I’m sorry, I-I’ll go find something else to do than bother you” she murmured and without looking at them she quickly walked away.

Her legs leaded her in the back of the kitchen and she realized where she was only when she saw the prisoner tied to the tree. Again, she thought that probably he was tied there for a reason, maybe because he was too dangerous, or that he had done something terrible, and he deserved to be there. So again she walked away without looking at him twice. 

As she kept going, thinking about how many people in that camp were just not going to believe her and her story, she passed right in front of Arthur’s tent, but he wasn’t there. She stopped and looked around for a second, being sure he wasn’t in her range of sight before drawing closer. 

The first thing that stroke her was the amount of photographs: one of a woman on the table, another woman on the crate at the back of the bed, and then three on the side of the wagon. On the table by the bed there also was Arthur’s hat, which Emily took before sitting on the cot. She looked at it for a while before placing it on her head and smiling feeling how heavy it was compared to what she expected. Then, she turned around to look better at the three photos hanged on the wagon. 

There was a… dog? There was a man, who, thanks to the resemblance to Arthur and to the name written on a tablet he was holding, Emily could understand was his father. But was the third photo that shocked Emily most of all: a young Arthur with two young Dutch and Hosea! The latter was the one Emily focused on, with his very pale blond hair, and she couldn’t help but notice he was incredibly handsome! Even more than Arthur who with the years had got definitely better. 

So, that was the place Arthur slept in, she thought turning to sit straight again. Maybe he had his diary somewhere. She looked around, but the only thing she found was a little newspaper cutting dated 1887 about a bank robbery, and reading the description of the suspects, Emily recognized Dutch, Hosea and Arthur. She laughed picturing the scene in her mind, and in the end she was surprised to find out the money they had stolen, they gave it away to the poor. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” 

Emily turned to smile at Arthur as he walked closer and stood up showing him the cutting.

“A bank robbery?” she asked.

“You know you’re trespassing a private property, don’t you?”

“I didn’t think you minded too much about private property” she laughed.

Arthur took the hat from her head and put it on his with an annoyed face that made everything more hilarious for Emily.

“So, that’s your father, I got this” she said pointing at the photo while Arthur took the cutting from her hands.

“And I suppose this is your mother” she added taking the photo from the table and turning it to read the name.

“Beatrice, it’s a beautiful name.” Arthur took the photo too and put it back to its place.

“But I don’t understand who’s that woman. Your sister maybe?” she asked pointing at the other woman picture.

Arthur took her by her shoulders and made her turn around.

“This is none of your business” he said pushing her out of his tent. 

“I’m just trying to know you better. I love that picture with Dutch and Hosea, by the way. The three of you looked awesome!” she replied turning to look at him.

His pissed off face made Emily laugh, but in the end she returned serious.

“I’m sorry you’ve lost your parents. Your mum looked like a good woman” she said looking at him right in the eye.��

“I can’t say the same about your dad, because from my understanding he was a criminal too, but…”

Arthur’s hands on her made her jump and when he spoke a shiver ran down her back.

“Don’t talk about things you don’t know” he growled.

She froze on her place looking at his clear eyes. He had the same look of the day before, when they came out of the saloon, the look that had scared her, that made her understand he wasn’t joking anymore, the look that had the power to put her back into her place.

As he walked away she felt suddenly heavy. She was sorry and ashamed for what she had done. He was right, she didn’t know anything about him, she had no right to say things about him, his family and his past. She wanted to run, reach him and tell him how sorry she was, but she didn’t, scared by the fact he could get even angrier.

...

Emily was a very active kind of person, always working, always doing something with herself, and that situation was boring her, so she had to think about something. Who she wanted to spend her time with? She didn’t get to choose. As she left Mr. Morgan’s private space, Jack came running and asked her to play hopscotch again. 

“Why don’t we try something new instead?” she asked kneeling down to look at him right in the eye.

“Do you know other games?”

“Oh I know plenty of games. For example: what do you want to be when you grow up, Jack?”

The little boy frowned: no-one had ever asked him that question and for him it seemed something impossible to answer. 

“I don’t know” he said in the end.

“Well, when I was little, I knew exactly what I wanted to be. I wanted to be an explorer. So I took my backpack and went exploring.”

“What did you explore?”

“Everything. I’ve been in the African deserts, the highest and coldest mountains of Asia and the thickest jungles of South America.” “Really?”

“Yes, really. I just had to close my eyes and I could see them.”

“How?”

“Use your imagination. Come, I’ll show you.”

The process was more difficult than Emily expected. Jack was four years old, but she had never seen a more down-to-earth kid in all her life. Imagination was a strange word in his vocabulary. 

“When Uncle Hosea reads a story to you, you imagine what happens on your head, right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s the same thing, you just have to take the images from your head and bring them in the reality. Now, first of all, explorers have hats, big hats, so we have to find two.”

After they found the hats - Emily borrowed a big one from Charles and Jack one from his father - she started with her play. She brought him into the woods, searching among the leaves and dirt for traces of the ‘big mountain gorilla’, then she made him cross the 'Pacific Ocean’ on a canoe, which was a crate, and landed on the exotic ‘New Guinea’.

“Look, Jack!” she exclaimed pointing her finger at Tilly in the distance.

“She’s one of the native girls of the island. Should we approach her and find out if she speaks our language?”

...

The new girl was playing again with Jack and this time her game was even crazier than the jumping on numbers. They kept wandering around camp, or in the woods, or on the edge of the cliff and pointing at things that didn’t exist. At one point they even approached the fire, where some of the gang members were sitting, with a stealth and careful pace like they were hunting a dangerous animal, but instead the girl pointed at Uncle’s face and said: “Look Jack, this is a great shaman of the Australian desert. They say he has magical powers. We should show our respects.”

Javier, Bill and Uncle himself laughed in a snort looking at her slim figure bowing in reverence.

“Oh great shaman, please, enlighten us with your wisdom.”

“What exactly are you doing?” exclaimed Lenny coming closer to the fire.

“Oh no! They sent one of their warriors. Hurry Jack, bring me my sword, we have to defend ourselves!” she yelled to the little boy.

Without hesitation, he run away and Emily looked at Lenny who was about to sit down. 

“No, no don’t sit, please. We have to fight” she said.

“I won’t fight with you” he replied.

“Come on, Lenny! I’m doing it for Jack.”

“What? Acting like a fool?” asked Bill.

“Playing with the imagination. He needs this” she answered.

Lenny didn’t want to, it was stupid, it was humiliating, but she was begging him with the eyes.

“Here’s your sword!” yelled little Jack running towards her and giving her two sticks.

“Take your weapon, sir. We’ll see if you are as brave as the stories tell” she said with a big fake voice and handed one stick to Lenny.

He sighed and looked at the people around him as they were all wondering if he would have played that stupid game. He had no choice: he took the stick and put himself in position.

The mayhem she was causing caught the attention of more people until even Dutch came out of his tent to look at the scene.

“The hell are they doing?” he heard Arthur’s voice by his side.

“I have no idea” he laughed.

Lenny dodged and attacked again and finally succeeded in hitting Emily’s leg.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed and threw herself on the ground.

“Jack! Jack come here! I need you to take my place! Here, take the sword. Fight my faithful friend, fight for my honor!”

Everybody laughed again at her words as Jack took her place in the “fight”.

Arthur chuckled too and took a few steps towards that unusual scene. That girl had had the power to make Lenny play. Lenny, who always did everything in his power to make the others believe he was a grown up man. How had she done it?

“Well, she surely is a better actress than you, Arthur” joked Hosea showing up by his side.

“Yeah, maybe you should take her with you to the next robbery.”

Hosea chuckled.

“Maybe I will.”

...

Finally, Lenny let Jack hit him and, just like Emily had done, he threw himself on the ground and played dead. A loud shout of joy raised from the people around them for Jack’s victory and Emily was delighted by the fact that she had been able to involve all of them in the game.

“Okay, I guess it’s done. Go give the hat back to your daddy. We’ll explore more another day” she said taking Charles’ hat off.

Jack hopped away and she walked closer to Lenny as he was standing up.

“Thank you for playing the game. I didn’t know you were such a good actor” she joked.

“Never good as you” he replied.

“And also thanks to the great shaman, for his infinite patience” she addressed Uncle with another bow.

“My pleasure, dear. You’ll be surprised to know I’ve actually been to Australia.”

“Really? When?” she asked sitting on the log near the campfire.

“Australia? You?” asked Bill making Emily understand he didn’t believe him.

“Why is it so difficult to believe?” she asked.

“Ah! I’m more inclined to believe you come from the future than he’s ever been to Australia.”

“And you’re right, I never did.”

Emily frowned.

“So, you lied?” she asked.

“I’ve never been there, but I tried to. I made it as far as Chicago” answered Uncle.

Emily fixed her eyes on him, trying to understand if he was playing dumb, or he really was, before she busted out laughing. 

“Chicago ain’t nowhere near Australia” exclaimed Bill, who unlike Emily seemed annoyed by Uncle’s words.

“No… but it’s on the way.”

Emily laughed again, louder and longer.

“What’s so fun?” asked Bill.

“You can’t be serious Uncle” she said among the tears.

“Why not? That’s the way for Australia. Maybe one day we’ll all go there and live the rest of our lives as kangaroo farmers.”

Emily couldn’t believe her ears. If those people were outlaws their only crime was lack of common sense!

“Okay, I think I’ll return the hat to Charles” she said standing up and drying her tears. 

She covered the distance to Mr. Smith’s tent still thinking about that crazy conversation she had just had, the road to Australia that passed through Chicago, the kangaroo farmers… That man couldn’t be serious. 

“Here, Charles. Thank you for lending me this” she said at the man as she reached his tent.

He was making some arrows and the thing intrigued her so much that she stopped by his side for a while to look at him working. But of course she didn’t limit herself to watch, she had to ask questions. She asked him everything about making arrows, the type of feathers he had to use, the type of wood, and then she passed to bows, how difficult it was to use one, how difficult it was to make one…

...

Charles had never minded to teach people how to do things and that was the only thing that stopped him from standing up and walk away from her. She was a good girl after all, she just had one flaw: the constant need to speak. 

“I know that Natives learn how to hunt from their horses when they are very young, is that true?” she asked.

“Yeah. How do you know that?” Charles asked in turn. That was his first question.

“I read it somewhere. Is it difficult? To ride a horse, I mean.”

“You can’t do it?”

She shook her head.

“You want to learn?”

“Oh no, for God’s sake. I hate horses.” “What?”

Charles couldn’t believe what she had just said and stopped what he was doing to stare deeply at her.

“I mean… I don’t hate horses, I just don’t like them. They’re dangerous.”

“Who told you that?”

“My father.”

“Has he ever ridden one?”

She seemed to think about it.

“No, I don’t think so.” “So, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” “But they are dangerous.”

“Only if you can’t control them.”

Charles watched her carefully before he took his decision.

“Come, I’ll show you” he said standing up from his chair.

“Show me what?”

“That there is nothing to be afraid of.” “No, Charles, really, I don’t…” “Come” he said and took one of her hands to help her stand.

Arthur had been looking at them from the distance while they were seated one on the chair and the other on the ground. From that little that he knew about Charles, he could perfectly tell he was extremely annoyed by all those questions the girl was asking him, but he was behaving wonderfully, and he didn’t expect nothing less from Charles. 

As he saw them standing up and walking away, his curiosity raised and he moved away from the tree he was laying against to follow them. They reached the external part of camp and he heard Charles saying “wait here” to the girl before he drew closer to the horses.

Arthur took the pack of cigarettes and brought one to his lips, lighting it and taking a puff. Charles came back, leading his horse by the reins. What were they doing? Were they planning to go someplace? Where could Charles possibly take her?

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female oc #jack marston #hosea matthews #lenny summers #bill williamson #Charles Smith

[blissfulalchemist]

Aaaaaand, I’m back for WrenChance, because I love them, too! 😘😘😘😘

This is an interesting dynamic once you get to thinking about it. This needs a little more exploring. 💜🌸

General:

Rate the Ship -

Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! Look I know it’s because nothing beat WrenWes okay| The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - If we shipping then it’s for life okay.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - For once Chance says I love you first! He assures Wren though that she doesn’t have to say it back until she’s ready cause he understands how she doesn’t want to be hurt.

How was their first kiss? - Okay this is cheating but like you know the scene in Stuck in Love where Lou and Sam kiss for the first time, I see it happening like that. (See provided gif 👇)Not rushed and after a date or while listening to music at Chance’s place. It’s soft and simple.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Wren. It’s not that occurred to him but took a little too long for Wren’s liking. Chance almost says no cause he just shuts down and was trying to say, “No wait that’s my job to do.” but yeah he can be a mess.

Who is the best man/men? - He only has three male friends. Two of which Swear that they will not light off fireworks when they kiss as a married couple.

Who is the bridesmaid(s)? - Rowan, Randy. Chance tries to convince Jane which ends in a sucker punch. Valiant effort Chance, valiant effort.

Who did the most planning? - Wren. Chance is too go with the flow

Who stressed the most? - Wren, but Chance stresses the day of because it has to go exactly how Wren wants it.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Neither are super formal to begin with but like this is a special day and these moments matter.

Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Anyone that Wren doesn’t want there. Miss Mable and Hurk Sr. Like I don’t know what to tell you but that’s just how it is.

Sex:

Who is on top? - I think Wren more

Who is the one to instigate things? - Pretty equal, both know how to get the other going pretty easily.

How healthy is their sex life? -

Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Look Chance has done a lot and has enjoyed a big portion of it so nothing is off limits here.

Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - Chance will go for as long as Wren needs him too. Again this boy is a giver. Even if it’s short cause he just needs it he still goes long enough to get Wren off.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Yes. Very much so.

How rough are they in bed? - I mean need I say more? Variety is the spice of life.

Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - Chance loves to have a hand on his partner at all times if he can. Something about this fear of them running away one day or something. Wren is also someone that loves to snuggle so it all works out!

No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - One. Chance is a bit hesitant at first but Wren reassures him that it’s not going to go bad and that she’s not going anywhere. And boy is he glad when it’s a girl signaling the end of the curse.

How many children will they adopt? - One, doesn’t even have to be a baby either. And then a dog or two.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Chance tries to make sure that it’s him but fails so it turns out pretty equal.

Who is the stricter parent? - Again it’s about perception here, this does not reflect actual punishments but Chance is seen as the more laid back parent. Neither is strict in the typical way.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Hands down Wren. I mean have you met Chance? He’s doing it with them so they have “protection”.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Chance does, though everything is prepared the night before since Wren isn’t a morning person. So mostly its reminding them to take the lunches. Chance does school too so its easier for him to remember.

Who is the more loved parent? - Equal! But there are cool aunts and uncles that take the crown away.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - Both are. Though sometimes Wren attends them more cause Chance takes after his dad in losing track of time while working.

Who cried the most at graduation? - Both did. And again Chance cried more in private cause well his own dad and grandfather never got to see him graduate so he’s emotional about being able to be there for his kids.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Both are. Wren and Chance are picking them up. Thankfully though the children don’t do anything that bad that means jail time.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Wren. She learns and Chance was never much of one to begin with.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Wren by default

Who does the grocery shopping? - They both go cause Chance likes going when he can and Wren has the list.

How often do they bake desserts? - Wren isn’t much of a baker but tries. Chance bakes boxed desserts and will try to pass off store bought cheesecake as something he baked. It hasn’t worked yet.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Once together Wren makes sure Chance tries to have a little of all the food groups.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Wren. Sorry Chance can’t cook very well but he damn well tries and once has to pull a steamed hams stunt trying to impress Wren.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Chance maybe more so cause he sometimes craves the old gas station food.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Chance. I just mentioned the steamed hams incident.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - This feels like a shared activity.

Who is really against chores? - There are some that Wren will not do so Chance tries to pick up the slack.

Who cleans up after the pets? - Whoever gets to it first.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Neither, Wren would never allow that.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Wren. It’s her space but Chance doesn’t always care really.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Wren. Chance is the one losing them all the time.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Chance cause Wren keeps coming in to help him.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - They like going together.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Wren goes all out for Halloween. And Chance likes to have some for Christmas. This all increases once kids are involved and Chance starts to understand the competition between Wren and Miss Mable. Chance helps in making sure Mable’s always has worse displays with some pranks and science.

What are their goals for the relationship? - Happiness, no longer lonely, having someone to rely on.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Both.

Who plays the most pranks? - This is their not so silent competition guys. It's more of a try to not cross the line and ruin the fun.

#chance ruicknar oc #royal deluxe deputy #what to call them idk i jave no ideas as i write this #maybe tomorrow or well today i will think of one

[cxptain-carol]

𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 + 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬 | 𝐥𝐲𝐲

➮ summary: you may be one of the best toy makers the north pole has ever seen but that all changes when yangyang joins your department, determined to dethrone. maybe it would be easier to stay on top if he wasn’t so darn cute.

➮ paring: liu yangyang x fem!reader 

➮ word count: 4.7k

➮ warnings: i don’t know a thing about woodworking, swearing, my attempts at world-building, bts’ jin is mentioned?

➮ genre: fluff, light angst

➮ racially inclusive reader

➮ north pole elves!au

➮ a/n: did i write this for myself? yes. is it cheesy and unnecessary? also yes. all that aside, merry christmas and enjoy this mess!

“I think I’d rather be in the candy cane department over doll-making. At least you get food.”

Hendery shook his head as he idly munched on a frosted sugar cookie.

“It’s not even worth it; you have to spend all day dealing with melted sugar and Kun breathing down your neck.” Yangyang nodded, nervously adjusting his red and green hat while they waited.

The warm room was filled with elves of his age group who hadn’t been assigned to a department yet. There was a crackling stone fireplace at the center, and a group of elves Yangyang recognized from his last year of school sat in a circle before it as they laughed and exchanged candy ribbons. Looking around at all the elves who lounged around, curled up on couches eating snacks, no one seemed anxious about the job they’d be assigned as it was (most of the time) carefully thought out by the North Pole’s career committee.

Out of their friend group, Kun had already begun working in the candy cane department. Sicheng worked in gift wrapping and Lucas, who was in the same age group as the remaining three, had been given his job last week as a reindeer trainer.

There were even more options for work, but most elves saw toy-making as the highest honor. It was no secret that North Pole elves loved Christmas more than life itself and spent every day of the year preparing for it. The spirit of giving and spreading holiday cheer was just second nature to them. After finishing school and being assigned a career, elves dedicated the rest of their lives to their craft. Each department had a Head Elf and each unit—which contained multiple departments—was led by a Director who reported to Mr. Claus weekly and kept everything running smoothly. 

Kun had become Head Elf in the candy cane department to the surprise of many, but it was well-deserved as he had been taught by his parents from a young age and could work faster than any of the older elves who had most likely become sick of dealing with melted sugar all day.

Yangyang, Xiaojun and Hendery eagerly awaited their assignments as they sat in the crowded room, happily taking advantage of the many treats scattered about: it was the North Pole, of course. Yangyang wondered if there was a chance he could end up in one of the food departments, like baking. Baking was led by Mrs. Claus and was known to be one of the most difficult and precise jobs an elf could have. There was no way he could end up there.

Suddenly, the front door of the hall swung open and a large group of elves entered, all but one of them carrying a little sign with their department written across. She stood in the center of the line, a clipboard in her hand.

“I hope you all are very excited to receive your jobs today!” She beamed and received warm smiles from each elf in the crowd before her: it was unheard of for an elf to be bitter for no reason.

“When I announce a department, I will read the names of the elves who have been assigned there and then I trust you can find the correct representative who will lead you where you’ll be working. In case anyone forgot, it is possible to change your department should a problem arise, just bring it up with you Head Elf and the two of you can speak with the career committee.”

“With that, I will begin with the Department of Candy Canes.”

About five minutes had passed and Yangyang had already heard a few departments he would have liked to be assigned to. As the grandfather clock ticked, he grew a little more impatient but much less particular about which job he’d get.

“Next, Department of Toy Trains: Liu Yangyang…” That was all he heard.

Before he could process it, he was standing up from the couch and making his way over to a rather short elf with neat black hair and a ski-slope nose. A few moments later, Hendery had joined him in line and began making polite conversation with the other elf; Yangyang overheard that his name was Ten.

After the list was complete and the new group being called was sled-builders, Ten led the elves out of the hall and into the snow, where the toy train factory sat atop a hill. They made it there quickly and talked energetically along the way, completely unfazed by the cold. North Pole elves spent their entire lives in freezing temperatures and were practically immune to them.

As Ten reached the front doors of the large building, he raised his fist and knocked out the rhythm of ‘Jingle Bells.’ 

Much to Yangyang’s surprise, a pretty elf answered the door, flashing a wide smile at the newcomers before ushering them inside.

“Welcome, welcome. This, as you can see, is the wonderful toy train department!” She exclaimed, opening her arms wide as she signaled to look around the room.

At least fifty elves sat at desks in the center of the room, machines lined up on the walls and a large station full of almost every paint color imaginable standing in the corner. To the right of Yangyang was a cart stacked high with intricately carved wood pieces. To the left was a shiny spiral staircase that led to the second level which bordered the walls, twenty or so more elves working up there, some having extremely loud conversations with those on the lower level.

“I think you guys are going to have a great time working here! It’s a lot of fun as long as you follow the rules and aren’t afraid to ask for help. We just got new paints and I’d hate for them to be ruined so please do seek out Ten if you’ll be painting.” She motioned towards Ten who waved politely.

“Today is mostly just a shadow day for you guys, so feel free to sit by anyone if you know them or if you just want to make a new friend; we’re all very friendly here.” 

Yangyang hid a chuckle as he watched an elf angrily pluck another’s toy train from his grasp and chuck it into the garbage bin as he huffed about wheels.

“That should be it. Feel free to ask me any questions throughout the day. I’m Y/N, your Head Elf.”

Yangyang smiled back at you and made his way over to Hendery who stood looking around the room for a place to begin. He probably should have done the same, but couldn’t take his eyes off you as you walked over to Ten and started up a conversation. It had only been a few minutes but he was already charmed by the cute little smile you wore as you spoke.

“I see you’re fascinated with Y/N, huh?” Hendery’s voice brought Yangyang back to the task at hand.

“She’s cute,” he responded, strolling between the rows of desks to observe what each elf was doing. While at first toy trains seemed like a boring department, it became clear that a lot of effort went into the models and many of them turned out lovely. The best ones were sitting atop an abandoned desk in the back of the room.

“She’s the youngest Head Elf this department has ever seen. I remember people talking about it; she outdid all of the elves who had been doing this for decades. Just like Kun.” Yangyang nodded, taking a seat at an empty table as he watched the elves work around him. He wanted to gain some knowledge before starting; the last thing he wanted to do was look like a fool in front of the best toy train-maker the North Pole had seen in years.

A few seconds later, you took your seat in the back of the room next to Yangyang at the one desk he had been eyeing for minutes now. Humming to yourself, he watched as you gingerly picked up a handful of colorful train cars and carried them to the painting station. He quietly walked over to watch from the side as you sprayed them with sealant and and set them to dry on a floor to ceiling shelf that had to have been holding hundreds of little cars.

You wiped your hands on the front of your apron and adjusted your hat before turning to the boy who had been watching you.

“So, what looks the most interesting? Personally I love the details: carving and painting little designs. Ten’s pretty good at painting in general and there are many skilled woodworkers in here in case that’s more your speed. If you’re a little overwhelmed you can always sit with Eugene over there and make your first wheel and axle.”

A round-faced elf waved joyfully at Y/N at the mention of his name.

“I think I’ll just stick to watching you. I gotta learn from the pros,” Yangyang replied coolly.

“Oh, stop it.” You waved your hand at his compliment and sat back down at your desk, picking up a blank wooden car and your chisel. Yangyang pulled up a chair next to your desk and sat beside you, examining silently as you worked.

You lightly sanded the smooth surface of the car’s side and brought your chisel to it, delicately carving a swirl. The swirl was soon connected to another one in the opposite direction which framed a cluster of holly berries and three leaves. You brushed away the wood shavings and set the car aside, picking up another one. Yangyang was in awe.

“How did you do that so quickly? That was so neat; I thought you only started last year!” You chuckled humbly and it was one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard.

“Just practice.” You shrugged.

A tall brunet elf with silver-rimmed glasses walked by your desk and leaned over to see your steadily growing pile of cars.

“Looks great, Y/N.” He shot you a thumbs up and you smiled in return. Yangyang was still busy admiring your woodworking skills.

“Yangyang, would you like to try carving something?” You offered, holding out your chisel and a blank car. He happily took them and went to work, swiftly outlining a frame on the car with a pencil before pushing the chisel tip into the wood. He tried his best to keep his hands steady and stay on the line but under your watchful gaze, he faltered. What was supposed to be a perfect line was now bumpy.

“That’s normal at first. Let me help.” You stood up behind his chair and took his hands inside yours, keeping them firm and stable as you guided the chisel tip to carve out a straight line parallel to the rim at the top of the car. Yangyang was trying to focus on your technique but couldn’t; you were so close he could smell sawdust and the bitter scent of wet paint that lingered on your apron.

With newfound confidence, Yangyang successfully carved four frames around the faces of the car and showed them to you with a proud smile on his face.

“That looks great!” You patted his shoulder before standing up from the table. “Sorry Yangyang, but I think I have to help the others out now.”

He nodded, a little sad that you had to leave, but waved as you made your way to the front of the room, a spring in your step.

-

“Is there anything I can do to get her to pay attention to me?”

Hendery looked out at the darkening sky, sifting through soft snow with his fingers and tilted his head a to the left with a pout.

“No, probably not.” 

Yangyang threw his head back and groaned.

“Give it a rest. You’ve known her for one day and think you two are gonna end up together? She seems a lot more focused on toy trains than dating, honestly.” Yangyang’s head shot up.

“That’s it! I’ll get really good at that and impress her!”

Hendery chuckled. “It sounds more like you’re trying to outshine her, not impress her.” He lazily picked up a ball of snow and tossed it at his conflicted friend.

Lying in the snow beside Hendery, Yangyang thought hard about his plan. He wanted you to like him; you just were so interesting to him. While he had started the day nervous about the job he’d be assigned, he was ending it entirely bewildered by Department Head Y/N.

-

“What’d you think of the newbies?” Ten asked with a lollipop between his lips as he hopped up to sit on a vacant desk. The factory hadn’t opened yet and you two were preparing for the day’s work.

“They seem normal,” you replied nonchalantly.

It was too early for you to tell your best friend, but you undoubtedly felt something for the bright-eyed Yangyang you met yesterday. He was just too cute for his own good.

Ten eyed you suspiciously.

“You like Yangyang.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled through your embarrassed smile. Attempting to drown out the sound of Ten’s laughter, you rushed to the back to organize the paints. Ten slowly followed suit, grabbing an apron from the rack and tying it around his waist.

“When do you want to start keeping track of inventory?” Ten pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and cocked his head to one side.

“Today,” you replied definitively. You grabbed your clipboard from its hook on the wall and tucked it in the crook of your arm. Adjusting your elf’s uniform, you ran to the front doors and checked your watch.

“And we’re on in 3, 2, 1!” You pulled the doors open and the usual workers entered in a neat line, Yangyang and Hendery in the back, much to your surprise.

“Nice to see you two up bright and early! Most of the new recruits are late their first day back,” you sighed before marking their names as present. The two waited awkwardly in front of you as you flipped through your papers, finally landing on the right one.

“Okay, so the both of you will be working with Ten on paints today.” You flipped the pages back and smiled. Yangyang looked defeated at the news.

“Oh, and don’t forget,” you turned to the rest of the room. “I’ll be checking to make sure all meet today’s quota. 100 finished trains each.” The announcement was met with nothing but joy, and few shouts of “Sure thing, Y/N!”

You watched as Yangyang followed Ten to the back of the room and put on an apron. After checking a few more elves in for the day, you made your way over to your desk and sat down, picking up an unfinished train car and attaching a little black chimney. Twenty more now donned tiny ebony chimneys and you were on your twenty-first when Yangyang sat down at the desk beside you.

He waved but quickly turned to back his work. Curious, you stood up from your seat and began to study him, He had collected fifty or so blank train cars atop his desk and was carving in little details. They weren’t as good as yours, you noticed, but they were better than what you expected from most elves.

As the days counted on and Christmas came closer, you grew attached to Yangyang but not in the way you expected. He was getting increasingly better at toy-making and met his quota every day, something you didn’t expect from a newcomer. He worked quickly and made seemingly perfect trains.

You started to hate it, just a little bit.

One day in late December, you and Ten sat casually eating candy after the factory had closed. You two had loosened your aprons and taken off your hats as you curled up on the pair of armchairs nestled in the back of the room, discussing the day.

“Did you exceed the quota today?” You asked, practically falling asleep as you talked. That day, you worked extra hard and carved 50 more cars than you needed, just to make sure Yangyang didn’t outrank you. In the recent weeks he began consistently exceeding quotas, but never managed to do better than you, something that you took pride in.

“Yeah, I went fifteen over but I think you should go see how Yangyang did,” Ten replied in a mischievous tone that did not go unnoticed. Puzzled, you stood up from the chair and went to bulletin board hung up across the room. You spotted your name first.

Department Head Y/F/N: 250

You smirked to yourself before finding Yangyang’s name.

Liu Yangyang: 275 

Your eyes widened and didn’t revert back until your feet had carried you back over to Ten where you began pacing back and forth.

"How could he beat me? I mean, I’m Head Elf, not him and Mr. Claus himself recognized my skills!” Ten was thoroughly enjoying himself as he watched you break the situation down. Secretly, he believed you needed to be knocked down a peg sometime.

“I mean, I’m on track to be the Director of Toy-Making next year after some training in figurines and stuffed animals! This is just making me look bad!” You said all of this very fast.

“Relax, Y/N. He’s not taking your job anytime soon. If anything, I think he likes you.” Ten smirked.

“How?”

He sighed, sitting up in the armchair.

“It’s obvious; he’s probably just trying to catch your attention.”

You had calmed down but Ten’s statement left you even more confused as you looked around the room, taking note of the time as your gaze landed on the grandfather clock.

“Well, if he thinks surpassing me at my talent is going to make me fall for him, he really needs to get his shit together.”

With a chuckle, Ten tossed his candy wrapper in the garbage bin and grabbed his coat off the rack, leaving you you overthink in peace.

-

“Good morning, Y/N!” Yangyang piped up from the desk beside you.

“Morning,” you responded blankly. You had planned out your whole day the night before: you needed 325 cars painted by closing time. There was no way Yangyang could beat that. You had woken up extra early and got to the factory before Ten to make sure everything was ready at your desk. Despite how trivial it was, you even dressed up in your favorite red suspender dress with a soft green sweater and matching leggings underneath to keep you warm.

You both worked side by side at the painting station for a few hours before either of you decided to address the elephant in the room.

“What are you playing at?” You suddenly turned to Yangyang, setting down your crimson-dipped paintbrush.

“Hmm?” He faked a clueless look and you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you doing this?”

He cocked his head to one side and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I know it may seem like it, but I’m not trying to upstage you, Y/N. I’m just trying to be the best toy-maker I can.”

You chuckled and moved closer to Yangyang to bump him with your shoulder.

“You’re annoying,” you stated, even though you still wore a tiny smile on your lips which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“But I also have more cars done than you, so…” He trailed off, smugly motioning at the drastically different size of your piles. You gasped and began working faster, prompting him to laugh. In the corner of your eye you saw Ten and Hendery eye you two curiously.

“Your dress is cute, by the way,” Yangyang said suddenly. You didn’t look up at him; your cheeks had already begun heating up.

“Thanks,” you replied. Even without an upward glance, you were almost positive there was shit-eating grin on his face in that moment.

The awkward silence after that only lasted for a minute or so before Yangyang broke it abruptly.

“You know, if you don’t finish today, I’d be happy to take over as Department-”

“Yangyang!”

You shook your head, tut-tutting at his antics. You picked up another car and swiped your brush across it lightly, watching as the blank surface turned vibrant and bold. You knew you’d never get tired of toy-making when it brightened up the world like this.

“Hey, Y/N, could you grab another paintbrush for me?” Yangyang motioned towards the cabinets a few steps away. Pretending to be irritated, you sighed loudly and strolled over, swinging open a marked door and grabbing a brush. Yangyang had already made his way over to take it from you but as you turned to look at him, his eyes were transfixed on something above your heads.

“Well, oops.” Yangyang giggled at the awkward situation, while you were flat-out lost. Finally catching on, you lifted your gaze and saw it. Mistletoe.

“I mean, you wouldn’t disregard a holiday tradition, would you Y/N?” He jokingly took a step closer.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You stepped in, holding your breath. The small space between you two had your heart beating so fast you could hear it, despite the whirring of the machines and the loud conversations that filled the room. Without thinking, you raised your arm.

Before he could react, you had swiped your wet paintbrush across his cheek and were running away, the heartwarming sound of your laughter trailing behind you.

-

There was far less tension between you two these days. Nearly all of your time was spent side by side, working diligently with a conversation every now and then. You found yourself slowly becoming infatuated with Yangyang; his youthful demeanor, his comforting voice, and his skilled hands. Even though it was nearing Christmas, you couldn’t seem to help that you were far too distracted by him. 

However, your newly formed crush didn’t stop the competitive nature of your relationship. You two never ceased to tease each other and your days were filled with constant one-upping. While it was fun, even Ten noticed that your efficient ways had begun slipping away. Most days, you were barely meeting your quota.

“Something has to be done about Yangyang.” You bit down hard on your bottom lip as you sat atop a vacant table in the back of the factory. There was no response.

“Ten?” You looked around. You could've sworn he was sitting right next to you. With a sigh, you spotted him chatting up Hendery by the front door.

You hopped off the desk, adjusting the candy cane held tightly between your teeth and brushing off your uniform before you sat down at your own table. There sat an empty crate which you slid in front of you, happily picking up finished trains and packing them inside. You gently cradled a little orange train in your palm, admiring the pretty little rainbow you had carved just days prior. Only a few more days and all the toys in the North Pole’s factories would be delivered to the children of the world.

But as it usually does, time flew past like a feather-light snowflake in the wind and for the first time, were you not prepared. All that playful banter with Yangyang over the past few weeks really set you back, and now here you were, two days before Christmas.

You had closed the factory and said goodbye to everyone that evening, tidying up the facility as no one would be working there the next day: all elves celebrated Christmas Eve in the town square or visited the Claus house to help prepare Santa for his big journey. The partying only stopped on Christmas day when all the elves went back to their school or their jobs.

It was in the silence that you sat down to do your work. You had been calculating everything throughout the course of that day and it brought you to learn that you had 100 trains to finish by the crack of dawn.

A tear threatened to fall from your watering eyes but you blinked it away—it was a hard pill to swallow, but you got distracted and had to pay the price.

As you slowly picked up a wooden car, your tired hands dug your chisel into the polished plane, carving out a heart. At the sound of icy winds rattling the windows, you shook, your hand faltering and creating a faint scratch down its center.

You sighed out, rubbing your temples as you stared at the pile of unfinished cars before you. That stubborn tear was on the brink of escape until you heard a noise at the front door.

Maybe it was Director Jin? He could’ve seen that the lights were still on, you pondered. Jingling your keys in your hand, you ran over to unlock the door.

Lo and behold, in all his rosy-cheeked and messy-haired glory, it was Yangyang.

“Y/N,” he said, breathless from the cold. “Hey.”

“W-Why are you here?” You questioned, stepping back to let him in. You blinked as the cold air pierced you through your fur-lined sweater and tickled your legs until the heavy door shut loudly, causing you to jump.

“Ten told me you were staying after and I wanted to help,” he admitted, nervously shoving his hands into his pockets. You let his words sink in slowly as he waited for a response.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you launched forward, tightly wrapping your arms around him. He froze at the sudden contact but you felt him loosen up and wiggle his arms out of your grip to hug you back. You two stood like that for what felt like hours, just drowning in the warmth and comfort of each other. Like it wasn’t a competition between a novice and an expert; it was just Yangyang and Y/N.

You regretted letting go as soon as you broke apart but held onto his hand as you dragged him to the back of the room were you had been sitting just minutes prior. He took the seat beside yours and watched intently as you picked up your second chisel and a blank car before handing them to him.

“Could you carve and then I’ll paint? Things will go a little bit faster if we do separate tasks, I think.” You thought out loud as you sifted through the mess on your desk looking for your paintbrush.

“Y/N, look.” You spun around to see what Yangyang held out.

Carved in the side of the train car was a neat rectangle, inside lay a cluster of holly berries and two swirly lines.

“Beautiful,” you said, looking up into Yangyang’s eyes.

“Not as good as what you can do,” he mumbled, setting the car down on the desk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You yelled jokingly. “You’re amazing!”

“Y/N, I know you’re trying to be humble but you’re literally Head Elf here. You’re like the best of the best.”

You shook your head, your gentle gaze focused Yangyang as you scooted your chair over closer to him.

“And you still managed to outdo me at least ten times this month.” You grinned with satisfaction as his cheeks turned pink.

“About that,” he began, a hint of fear in his voice. You motioned for him to keep talking.

“Well, I may have completely overworked myself to try and impress you.”

You took a second to process his confession before bursting out into laughter.

“Me? Impress me? I was scared you were gonna take my job!” You shook your head in disbelief, an exaggerated ‘humph!’ leaving your lips.

“So, did it work?” Yangyang’s eyes lit up in anticipation as your face changed. You pulled your chair even closer to him and looked into his eyes.

“Yangyang, you didn’t have to wear yourself out to catch my attention,” you hand softly cupped his cheek as you leaned in.

“I was already falling for you.” 

You sealed the last syllable as you pressed your lips to his cheek, leaving behind a smudge of glitter from your lip gloss. You leaned back in your seat, shyly looking away as you felt your cheeks heat up. With a tired sigh, Yangyang pulled you back into him, where you happily rested your face on his shoulder. It was only when you heard the grandfather clock’s ticking in your ear that you sat up.

“Not only that, but we’re also falling behind schedule.”

With laughter filling the room, you two happily began working on the trains once again. As the wind howled outside and bells rang out from the town square, you and Yangyang stayed awake for hours, painting, carving, talking and kissing until the pale pink ribbons of day broke the open the darkness and painted the sky, falling peacefully across the North Pole. Even when you two emerged from the factory far too exhausted to celebrate, you knew you’d never regret the time you spent that night, forgetting the worries of world as you basked in the pure serenity of being with him, something so much better than the satisfaction any fancy title could ever give you.

#nct fluff #nct blurbs #nct #nct yangyang #wayv imagines #wayv yangyang #yangyang #yangyang x reader #yangyang blurbs #wayv #wayv fluff #liu yangyang #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #nct christmas #christmas!au

[zuchidk]

it’s crazy that i’m always going to hold a grudge against my parents and my brother for not giving a shit about me and making sure i was okay when they all knew what was happening to me and what continued to happen for years like how does someone ignore that like some days i don’t care and other days like today everything just makes sense like my family doesn’t talk about anything it’s like those years didn’t even exist and my reason for not liking my dad’s side of the family is just confusing to them even though they fucking know and i feel like for months it was okay like my grandmother died so it meant not having to see them on thanksgiving and christmas and i honestly had the best holidays this year and it was so relaxing and nice that i didn’t have to worry about anything or anyone being around me but then fucking today it’s bothering me so much and i’m just sat here like wow i’m never going to get over this and i’m always going to remember it and i just want it to stop i want to stop feeling like shit because of what happened and i want to stop feeling like shit with how my family responded to it like it’s obviously expected to feel bad about being molested because duh that person is shit but then it’s a whole other level to be so blindsided with how my family handled it like it hurts just as much and i’m sorry i’m posting this but i literally have no one to talk about it to and whenever i feel like shit about my weight i eventually end up feeling like shit about this it’s all tied together and i’m really frustrated i guess being stuck in my room for like a month where half of the stuff that happened to me happened in my bed is kind of getting to me i was so fucking dumb when i was younger i don’t understand why i couldn’t see past how my parents reacted and just went to the police about it i honestly should have like i remember telling him i wanted him to apologize to me for what he was doing to me or i’d go to the police and he didn’t believe me and i should have like he knew what he was doing was wrong and like even when all of it really started was when my grandfather on my other side of the family was dying like he knew that was happening and he was still fucking try to fuck me and get me to give him a blowjob like who the fuck does that i don’t understand i’m so disappointed and then once my grandfather died nothing changed like now my mom was back and i thought i’d have her be on my side and she just kept looking at me like i was disgusting and she didn’t say anything to anyone or make sure i was okay or make sure i didn’t have to go see my family like my parents would make me feel so guilty and bad about not wanting to go and shame me for not wanting to be close to my family specifically my dad and like guilt trip me into saying my grandmother was going to die soon so might as well go this year and no joke this was said to me for at least 10 years and thank god i was there the last christmas before she passed but it was so fucking uncomfortable because like yeah all of it stopped eventually after like four years? and i have no idea why it stopped but then that’s also fucked up because then what if it starts again and honestly if it did for some reason he did something to me or he came to my house i’d just use it as an excuse to kill myself then because i think that would ruin any self worth i’ve managed to get myself to have and i want to move away so no one knows where i live and no one would be able to come to my house unless i wanted them to know where i live i’m so sick of my head tonight like at this point i’m just feeling sorry for myself and i’m annoying and i’m so upset this is dumb

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 31

Last time: Roy gave Riza his number, war was hell, and there could only be one Doc. Onwards!

Envy is not happy to change jobs from Doc Marcoh’s waiter to Scar’s maid, cleaning up his latest mess of brain matter. And so much for the guard dog. Or dogs? There’s an empty collar… Riza’s seeing Ed out after tea, when Ed worries about her new job as a hostage she waves it off as a better chance to kill him in his sleep. That’s one way to look at it, I suppose. One message to pass on about Scar being back, and thanks for talking about Ishval, and Ed’s off. Quick, go save your brother from his new admirer! Episode 31 - “The 520 Cens Promise“ Cens? Is that like an Amestris version of a penny, or what? Ed catches up with Al at a clock-fountain, you can tell how much hearing about Ishval got to him when he calls himself “practically a kid”. And it definitely casts a light on Roy’s drive to become the Fuhrer, if it’s really just setting himself up for Mob Justice. Speaking of the future, they talk about their plans after they regain their bodies. Food for Al, of course, he should still be carrying around that “Stuff to Eat” book. Ed claims that he’s been so busy just trying to get his limbs back he hasn’t thought about what comes next. Maybe some courtesy calls NO NO NO NO Leto-damn it, boys! “Let Granny and Teacher know we’re all right”? “They’ve both helped us out so much”? “They’ll be smiling when they see us”?!?! Stop it, you’re signing their death warrants! Oh my Leto stop with the optimism, you are painting great big targets on yourselves for the Irony Gods. Moving on, moving on! Ed talks about his plan to get around Uncle’s Anti-Alchemy Field with Alkahestry, I’m a little concerned about that seeing as Uncle changed his method to counter Scar’s mixed style, but it’s still a starting point. Time to get lessons from a little girl! A little girl who has skipped town, apparently! Doc says she left his house/hospital that morning. Wow, I get that you’re upset Ed, but there’s no need to just hang up on the Doc like that. And people wonder why he’s snippy all the time. Now, how to track down the little princess? It’s not like she has a unique identifier like a foreign animal companion OH WAIT Elsewhere in Central, Havoc gets visited by Breda and a gift of dumbbells, a farewell gift before he gets shipped off to the West. Fuery and Falman catch up as well as the latter goes to drop off a chess board, Falman griping about the cold of the north. I feel ya buddy. Up in Roy’s office Riza stops by as well, to get a few things she forgot but also to tell him about Scar being back and tell him to take care of himself. Then it’s just Roy, on his own in a big empty room. No pawn (what, just because Fuery’s short he gets the pawn?), no bishop (always serious Falman), no rook (stocky Breda), no knight (poor Havoc), and no queen (CAN’T STOP THE SHIP). But don’t count out the wannabe-king just yet! He’s still in play. And so is the Conspiracy, hidden message in the king! Go Falman!

Hey, Ed? You might wanna work on your drawing skills, or at least don’t inflict your own Angry Gremlin art style on a poor panda. At least Al’s there to show people what it actually looks like, but the day goes by and they haven’t gotten anything. Suddenly the Colonel drives by and offers them a ride, as well as any leads on May he finds. Anyways, about that- Leto, watch where you’re driving man! Anyways, about that money that Ed borrowed to panic-call Winry? [Ed]: “You remembered?! C’mon, how much did I borrow, 500 cens?” [Irate!Roy]: “It was 520 cens!” Titledrop! Ha, nice. “I’ll pay you back when you become Fuhrer.” Now he has even more reason to wait why is the music menacing? Seriously, Roy? You’re asking how Ed learned of your ambition to become Fuhrer? It’s not like you’ve kept it a secret. A bit of snarking about paying back pocket change after each time Roy improves the country, seriously though the music is making what I would normally be chuckling at depressing as heck. Stop it. Alright, back to their ro- Person in the room, look out! Wait, who. Oh jeez, it’s Ling’s other bodyguard, uh… *rifles through past posts*. Fu, right! Last we saw he was escorting Ross to Xing. Yeah, so while you were gone a couple of things happened… Really, Roy? One day without your Conspiracy, and you go drinking. I am- [Roy]: “Hey.” [Bar full of ladies]: *turns* [Who dis?]: “It’s Roy! Well I’ll be damned. Long time!” What. Who are you and why are you hugging Roy. What is going on. Riza, Riza I need you to get over here now. Uh anyway, we have a new character in the owner of this ‘establishment’, Madame Christmas. *Sigh* Come on Roy, I know that you and Riza aren’t official, but you just called her your queen! Show some- Oh. OH! The epic plotting music has started up, Roy’s passed a note to the Madame asking for something special. Secret informant group, go! One that has a direct line to General Grumman, no less!

Mid-episode pictures of Roy scowling at his King, and That Ass Kimblee strutting around in his white suit from the intro. Uh oh. Fu is not happy with the bodyguard he left to watch his liege. Lost her arm, Ling got Goth’d, and now moping in a dingy basement. Look dude, with all the foes WHOA nope! No hitting the lady! I get that you’re upset, but she did the best she could! Then it finally sinks in that Lan Fan lost her arm. Wait, what? [Lan Fan]: “Please forgive me, Grandfather.” He’s your grandpa? I thought it was just a teacher/student job, but they’re family? Ouch. Still very upset with you for hitting your granddaughter, dude, not letting you off the hook. But yikes, this has got to cut deep. You leave for half a season, and come back to this. Alright, time for a roadtrip! Lan Fan needs to meet up with Winry in Rush Valley to get her new arm. Or not? Come on gramps, this it not the time for foolish national pride, you can’t just- Oh. Ok yeah, the Goths have seen Lan Fan’s face now and have already threatened harm to Winry unless Ed toes the line. If she patches up one of their foes? It sucks, but they have to find another way. Fu thanks Doc for saving Lan Fan’s life, and I’m sorry this is a touching scene and all but I can’t get over the magically floating cigarette whenever Doc talks. Sweet scene of him blustering and trying to act grumpy and all, but really. That cigarette. Later, ninjas. Gather your strength, save your young lord, and give that old fart back in Xing immortality (again, ruining any chance of Ling advancing, but whatever). Greed? You just take care of Ling’s body until we can kick you out. The Doc’s resting on his couch, now that he can actually use it, thinking about… um. Thinking about a basement operating table with corpses strewn around the room. Um. Whatever THAT was, it’s compared to May and Lan Fan thanking him for his treatment, which he scoffs at. Yikes. His grumpy attitude and self-dismissal make a lot more sense now. Knock at the door, Doc goes to answer- “Uh, g-good evening Dad. Good to see you.” “It’s been awhile, how are you?” This is his family? His ex and son who were in the area and decided to stop by? And for the son to say he plans to become a doctor? To the tune of tinkly music? Yeah, no. I call bullshit. This is some Goth nonsense right here, I’d say a trick of Envy except there are two people so I don’t know how. But no way this is happening, especially after the giant middle finger to the Irony Gods earlier in the episode. Bracing for awfulness! Dude is crying as he gets some cups for coffee, asking God for a break. Just asking to enjoy some time with his family.

Next day in Central, looks like a cell with OH FOR LETO’S SAKE NO. How does Kimblee have that Stone? Wow, really officers? You gave this Blood Knight the most powerful MacGuffin in your setting, and after he did your dirty work you expected him to just hand it over and file a report on the power he once wielded? How have you survived this long? So it seems Kimblee got arrested for their murders, but no one else knew he swallowed the stone so he’s had it since. But if that’s true, why the heck has he just been sitting around in a cell all these years, not even escaping when Mr. Freeze tried to recruit him? He’s being released? Wrath, what are you up to? I can only assume that you knew he at least had a Stone because the Goths spearheaded the whole process, so why keep Kimblee locked up all this time only to release him now? How does this help you? Could be a distraction for the Protagonists, I suppose. Oh! I see it now, it’s for Scar! Throw the murderer of his people and family at him so he stays away from you. Kimblee’s walked out by a grumpy Warden who might as well be talking about his retirement party in three days. Death flags everywhere for this fool. Kimblee’s outside at an open gate, turns around to shake the man’s hand- and Transmute a bomb to his wrist. Leto, that’s- a baby chick? Wow, ok. Strapping a fake bomb to the man, just to see his freakout? You’re an ass. So now that the jerk’s free, he gets waved into a car by a MP who yup is Envy in disguise, here to give Kimblee a job. Marcoh’s gone. Or maybe not? Oh yeah, that missing guard chimera. If Marcoh could transmute living tissue to make a fake body, ala the Ross Deception, then he could have escaped with Scar. So the job’s to kill Scar and retrieve Marcoh, and then wipe a- A town?! Holy Leto, they’re gonna target Resembool! Scar, kill this ass! Ugh, and then in addition to his hidden Stone Kimblee gets a fresh one from Father, made from the assistants of Marcoh that first time. Makes sense in a jerk way, I guess. If you have to kill off the witnesses, why not grab those souls they aren’t using any more? Scar and Marcoh are hiding out in an alley, Scar explaining that Marcoh’s more useful alive to provide info on Kimblee and info about his brother’s research. Right, there’s that whole thing about Amestris’ alchemy being strange, and not just in that it’s different from alkahestry. Oh, and May’s caught up! She’s curious about their new companion, Scar’s quick to shut that idea down. He’s just the guy who made the Philosopher’s Stones-

Bleh. May hears “immortality” and jumps on it, she’s tugging on Marcoh’s sleeve and begging him to teach her how to make a Stone. Little one, stop. You have no idea what the true cost of a Philosopher’s Stone is. You can’t- Ah. I can see Scar’s logic here: better to remove the temptation now. I guess Marcoh is… still alive after that HoD? Oh yeah, the doctor is kinda recognizable, needs a new face. But wow dude, dick move to just grab him without any warning. Now, time to go and get his brother’s notes… In the north. Looks like everyone’s going to Drachma! Time to break out the winter outfits!

#wmtw #where my twin watches #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 31

[deliciouslyswaggytrashcan]

Splintered Heart: A Nutcracker Tale (Nutcracker Shiro x Reader) Part Three

Words: 1278

Summary: The story of the nutcracker truly is a timeless one during the holiday season yet while it may seem nothing more than a dream, your venture was true and most certainly real. With the grandfather clock striking midnight, another world came into ours with the another battle of good vs evil was happening right under our noses. You had feared the battle yet one stood mighty above others-the nutcracker who led the charge also ensured your safety while you wished to return home. Yet there is much more in store upon the Christmas night

Author’s note: I’m so out of it and my head has been in a daze all day. Idk if people are even enjoying this series but I’m still doing it. And I’m hoping to have finished doing all four loads of laundry by the time this next part is finished. Life of an adult right there... School, work, and laundry (please kill me)

Surely this was all some sort of dream right? Yet if it was a dream, why did it feel so real then? Why did the wound on your arm hurt like yell? Why was the blood still warm to the touch? And why could you smell the heavy scent of iron in the air? Never before had you noticed how time is so much like water; that it can pass slowly, a drop at a time, even freeze, or rush by in a blink. The clock says it is measured and constant, tick tock, part of an orderly world; the clock lies. The past few moments had passed like thousands of camera frames per second shown one at a time. The scene was quite unbelievable, shocking really. Your mind was sent reeling, unable to comprehend or process the images it was being sent by your eyes. You looked away, then looked back to see if it was still there. It was. 

You could feel your heart beat… every single pound in your chest. Not through your ears, that was occupied by the steady gunfire, screams, and dark voice of the enemy; drowning it out in the ears. But you couldn't lay there. You almost felt like you had to but you just couldn't. This great pounding, this great pressure; every beat. You couldn't hear it, but you could feel it. It remains now, even as you still stare forward, it remained through what little of the vomit you could shove down your throat. It remained when you stood and quickly stumbled back to the floor. That dark beating remained, alone in this house with me. Every beat a turbulent push from within pushing as a giant placed within the chest; as a great wave beating against a ship during a violent storm. 

In those few moments which seemed to last what seemed like an eternity, the creatures began to retreat back into a hole in the wall. Had you really not seen the whole battle? How was it over as quickly as it began? 

“It’s alright, Y/N.” The familiar face of nutcracker now somehow alive knelt before you. 

“Wh-what’s going on? I don’t understand any of this... None of this is possible. I have to still be dreaming. I’m crazy! I’m going crazy! Father was right! Those story grandfather told me surely did ruin my mind!” All your spinning thoughts stop the moment, he placed his hand on your knee and the moment he did, it felt like sparks rushing through you.

“Y/N, take a deep breath and relax. Everything is fine and I promise you that everything will be okay.” He whispered as you watched the soldiers he led into battle pursue the beasts while he stayed behind.

“Wh-where are they going?” 

“You don’t need to worry about that. For right now, I need to treat that cut on your arm.” With his free hand, he pointed out the deep wound that was still bleeding. The moment you remembered it was there was the moment you remembered the pain.

The pain commands your attention, it does not sit quietly in the background like garish wallpaper, it cows your brain into meek submission demanding a solution that you cannot provide. You used to think that the intermittent pains were the worst because they were chaotic, random. Now that they are constant you know that this is far more debilitating. Without a break in the pain you cannot formulate a thought, be generous in my nature or take enjoyment in anything at all. 

“Oh shit...” You muttered, turning your arm over to better examine the wound yet his hands were quick to stop you. 

“Allow me, Y/N.” His eyes began looking over the wound, quickly ripping off a piece of silk curtains which your father had never liked. Wrapping the soft fabric around your arm, his eyes continued to hold that deep intensity you first saw. You took another moment study now that he was a living breathing person. If one were feeling particularly poetic, one might called them "silver." Neither word did them justice. They were so solid, so bright, the exact lustrous color of a polished shard of metal. If you looked closer, like how close he was just now, you'd see the swirls of glittering onyx black and tinges of blue at the edges. They weren't monochrome or boring. They were beautiful. “All done.”

“Thank you...Shiro.” A small smile crept upon his face. How strange it was... His name just flowed off your tongue so naturally and it felt so nice to know that indeed he did have a name. “This has to be a dream.”

“I’m afraid it’s not. And I’ve got to return to Voltron while I still have a chance.” 

“You wouldn’t possibly be able to turn me back would you? I used to be...taller.” You held your hand over your head trying to show just much taller you once were. Shiro shook his.

“I’m afraid not. Yet perhaps the Altean Princess of Voltron could.” Helping you to your feet, his gaze turned towards the hole in the wall. Warning bells started going off in your head as you knew what he was going to say next.

“Wait, you want me to go through there? Just after those creatures just went through there?! Are you crazy?!”

“I know it’s a lot and I know you’re scared but trust me on this. Everything will be okay.” The way spoke with such calmness and with a caring tone made it easy to trust him right away. Yet you remained hesitant even when he extend his hand out to you. “Trust me, Y/N. Please.” And so you did. Taking a hold of his hand, the two you walked through the darkened hole in the wall. A few times, you turned your head around as you watched the familiar scene of the drawing room grow smaller and smaller the deep you went. And for a few moment, everything was dark which made you fear the unknown. Yet a small light appeared in all that darkness. You clung onto that thought as you now watched that light grow bigger and bigger until the two of had finally reached the end.

The woods, serene, calm, beautiful, natures garden. Oaks, Beech, Silver Birch, Holly bushes, winding path of mud gets boggy in places as it falls into gullies and rises up the hill, Sound or tinkling water, a stream rushes by in it's steep sided ditch, splashing on the rocks, cascading down small waterfalls, carrying twigs and leaves into small natural dams, leaves dance gaily on trees up above, dapple the light, intermittent shade, bird song rises and falls in sweet melodious chorus, snow drops amidst the trees, squirrels scamper and scurry up and down tree trunks. Everything about this forest seemed like one out of a book. But the smell and feel of it surely was real. The cold was biting at your cheeks while the scent of damp wood filled your nostrils.

“This place is beautiful...” You awed at the scene before you.

“Yes, at least this part of Voltron remains safe against the Galra’s destruction.” The moment he uttered the word ‘Galra’ his face turn sour as if someone had forced him to drink lemon juice. 

“The Galra?”

“The cruel monsters who invaded this land, seeking to expand their empire under the rule of their wicked emperor, Zarkon. We tried negotiating with, pleading for peace but they only seek to destroy. And if we don’t hurry to put a stop to them, I’m afraid your realm could be in great danger.”

AANNDD again I am so sorry this is so short and really shitty. These past couple days haven’ exactly been very good ones for me and I’m slipping into a bit of a depression again so it’s a bit hard to be positive right now. So hopefully I break out of it in a few day and my writing won’t be as shitty as this. ~Admin Mae

#voltron #Voltron legendary defender #VLD #voltron imagines #voltron reader insert #voltron scenarios #vld imagine #vld scenarios #shiro #vld shiro #shiro voltron #takashi shirogane #shiro x reader #takashi shirogane x reader #nutcracker au

[randomhearts82]

Important Note

Hello readers,

Once again here to say I'm sorry for lack of updates. I wasn't going to bother posting a message this time because I know it's probably getting annoying, but I know some people appreciate the "update".

I haven't touched the story since the last time I updated it. I feel like my motivation is gone...but I still think about it, so my interest is still there.

I've been struggling a lot with a "new" health problem - Misophonia, aka Selective Sound Sensitivity Syndrome. For those that don't know what that is, the short answer is: "a hatred of sound". The longer, answer:

"To a 'regular' person, noises & movements blend into the background. Most people don't notice if a person is chewing loudly, sniffing, or doing a repetitive body movement. Those with Misophonia not only notice, but it can get so bad it ruins their enjoyment of daily life.

Misophonia is a neurological condition, with no cure or 100% guarantee treatment. When faced with a 'trigger', those who suffer immediately feel a 'fight or flight' response. They feel angry, irrational, and often want to cry."

Misophonia can be stress and anxiety related, so with my amount of anxiety - you can imagine the hell I'm going through. I had a few trigger sounds as a child, but it never got that bad, & I just told myself everyone has sounds/habits that bother them. Within the past two or three years or so, I started to notice the triggers affected me more often, & more intensely. The sudden anger/rage, irritability, fight or flight, incredible guilt, self loathing, and crying. After doing research online, I found the "diagnosis", & was so relieved I was not alone...until I went to my doctors. My family doctor, my psychiatrist, and an audiologist, all looked at me with blank stares when I asked: "Have you heard of Misophonia?" My heart shattered. My heart is shattering even more now, as I'm now having incidents almost every day, & I'm noticing new triggers. The worst part of this condition is your triggers more than likely come from those closest to you - hence the guilt.

On top of that, I always have a hard time around Christmas - don't feel worthy of gifts, wish I could get more gifts for the people I love, and this Christmas will be my first one without my grandfather - even though he was in the hospital during Christmas last year.

Which means, it's also close to the first year anniversary of my grandfather's passing, and I'm still having a terrible time.

Also still struggling with my fan feelings toward Zak (as discussed on my last Important Note). I'm just not "into" it all like in the beginning, before I learned of what Zak is (apparently) really like.

However, I have an idea to try to remedy some of that - I'm going to read the story, all the way from the beginning. I'm hoping if I read it, I'll reconnect with it, and with my interpretation of Zak's character.

Anyway, I know this was long. I'm sorry for rambling about my problems once again, but these past few weeks of struggle with Misophonia really made me realize how little information, research, and knowledge there is out there - as it is a relatively a new disorder, so I wanted to share what I've learned so far, in case any of you find yourself struggling, but can't find out what's "wrong".

I hope to get an update pushed out by Christmas, but I can't guarantee it. Thank you for all your love and support. As always, I appreciate it greatly.

Love to all,

Alicia

#announcements #my fiction #angel of light #zak bagans #ghost adventures #fan fiction #ffn #ao3 #wp #my rants #misophonia #mental health #depression #anxiety #social anxiety

[clown-bait]

Paranormal Journeys (Pt8) Tortured

Update time! When we last heard of the trashpire she was in a bit of a sticky situation a new face arrived on the scene and somehow she lost a finger. Pennywise is not happy about any of this. Especially because he had to get help from his nemesis. At this point you should just get a pet tracker for your girl Pen she seems to get herself into trouble way too often.

Oh right and some music to go along with this chapter:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHQUfgq1seM

----------

Ch 15 Tortured

“Well, well, well if it isn't my favorite bitch! You know I was going to send you some Frontline for christmas since the last time I walked by your house I got covered in fleas.” Leech grinned through the ichor leaking from her face as the alpha werewolf Danielle walked into the barn and backhanded her already bruised face.

“Still making dog jokes even though you're the one on a leash? Leech I knew you were obnoxious but this is just pathetic.”

“H-harder mommy.” Leech whimpered through the sting of the she-wolfs hand.

“ugh and still disgusting.”

“At least when it rains I don't smell like wet dog!” The vampire called out as her rival turned away to Zander who had grabbed her arm as she passed.

“Wait you know her?”

“Unfortunately. I also know that the creature she's dating is the creature you've been looking for Zander”

“You fucked Humperdink?!” Leech shouted from behind them. The she-wolf turned to her in confusion.

“What?”

“She's been referencing Princess Bride for hours now.” Chris sighed.

“It's a classic! I’ve been trying to get Penny to watch it with me forever now. He liked Labyrinth though so not all hope is lost.”

“Yeah back to *ahem* Penny. The clown that was in the house thats what killed your sister and whats more disgusting she's dating it.” Danielle pointed at Leech who was raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“She's what now?”

“Ok listen its more than just dating, we’re a mated imprinted pair! Like- uh shit how did he describe it…ducklings? Violent sexual ducklings!” Leech called out to them in annoyance. The group grimaced and turned back to ignore her.

“Well, thats a mental image I never needed.” Rick said while rubbing his temples. Danielle regained her composure after cringing at the thought of what the clown and his vampire got up to when they were alone.

“Look I'm not going to explain it but you can help me stop it, using her as bait.” she said to the group while Leech yelled in shock.

“Oh my god you absolute bitch!!” the nosferatu spat and struggled in her restraints.

“She's just as evil as the creature its self so don't feel bad about anything I'm about to suggest but were going to have to torture her a bit for information.”

Chris and Zander both nodded, Rick hesitated but agreed when he saw the others eagerness to work together on this one.

“I am so not evil…..wait no yeah, yeah I am.” Leech snarked at them once again. Whatever it was these humans thought they could do to her she's had worse.

“Get something sharp and silver. Vampires cant tolerate it.” the werewolf grinned. Leech's smile faded as she heard a mirror shatter.

“Ah fuck.”

The werewolf cautiously approached leech brandishing the silver mirror shard in one hand holy water in the other. “Tell us how to get to the clown.”

“You'll have to kill me.” the nosferatu spat.

“Splash her.”

Holy water sliced into Leech’s abused skin fizzing and bubbling like acid. The vampire cursed and whimpered. Then she laughed.

“M-more” she panted and was struck with the water again.  

“Let's try once more how do I find the clown?”

“Have you checked the circus?”

“You're not funny”

“And you snack on milk bones.”

“Hand me the crucifix.” the alpha said to Chris as Leech hollered out to the group.

“Don't believe me? Check her purse! I’ve totally seen some in there!”

The she-wolf pulled out a large cross from a sheet. The nosferatu smiled.

“Oh! We’re gonna get rough I see. Well, we all know I like it rough!” Leech’s sneer turned into a wail of pain as she was brought to the floor. The cross pushing her down via searing internal agony until the thing started to catch fire in Danielle’s hands.

“Th-that it?” the vampire panted and rolled onto her back.

“If you wont tell us how to find him well make him come to us” Danielle sighed putting the cross away. Her prey was as stubborn as she was annoying time for a different tactic.

“He's going to wipe you from existence when he finds out you betrayed him.” Leech snarled keeping her voice low so the humans couldn't hear her. “Why are you risking this?”

“For power. I kill you and put your clown back to sleep, then for 27 long years the town is ours to do with as we please.”

“Always knew you needed to be put down.” Leech muttered.

The blonde bared her teeth and plucked a pair of old rusted sheep sheers off the wall. She turned to Chris who had been wearily watching her since she had entered the barn. “Here make yourself useful.” she called to him holding out the clippers. The ghost hunter took the sheers and looked at the blonde woman and then over to the chained monster on the dusty barn floor.

“You know I don't have any hair right?” the vampire called out from the background.

The she-wolf rolled her eyes and turned to Zander. “Z this thing on the floor? She can lead the creature to us, the thing that killed your sister we have to use her to make sure justice is done.”

“IT would come for her?” the lead ghost hunter asked.

“Oh baby you have no idea!” Leech flashed the room a devilish smile still trying to taunt her captors.

“Ew.” Chris grimaced

“Yeah ok someone help me grab her at least we can shut her up” Zander pulled on Rick’s arm who moved to restrain the nosferatu. Leech raised her eyebrows in amusement as she was thrown to the floor and held down.

“Uh Z? What am I cutting off?” Chris asked

“Well, she doesn't have any hair…. maybe a piece of her shirt?”

Chris and Danielle both shot Zander a questioning look, then gave the same to the vampire when she started laughing from her spot on the floor.

“HA pussies! Like Pennywise would risk everything for a piece of fabric! You gotta cut off something I’d miss!”

“Why are you encouraging that??” The she-wolf shouted completely dumbfounded.

“Honestly? Cause your attempts at being evil here are pretty lame.”

“wh-“

“Plus the guy you gave those scissors to doesn't look like he has the balls to do it anyway.”

“well yeah you're talking about amputating something here!” Chris shouted.

“Just cut off her finger Chris.” Danielle rolled her eyes growing tired and impatient.

“Yeah Chris do it! Bet you’ll bitch out!” Leech yelled and taunted again.

“Chris wait we don't have to do this!” Zander could smell the potential lawsuit from here. His little revenge plot has gotten way out of hand. He had never really expected to find anything and when he did he had just sorta been winging it till he met Danielle in that bar.

“Humperdink is a pussy you gonna let a guy like that control your life? Cut off my finger” Leech shouted again.

“I-“

“Chris I'm your boss listen to me” Zander pleaded.

“I dont-“

“what are you waiting for be a man DO IT!” Danielle shouted this time.

“Z, I cant-“

“HA! I knew it!” Leech called out triumphantly as if she had just won some kind of prize. Zander continued to shout at his teammate while Danielle motioned the ghost hunter to proceed. The whole thing was a bit overwhelming for him to say the least.

Chris looked at Zander who was now shouting orders at him, the woman he chose to sleep with instead of him and the insane bald creature on the floor.

“This is some real half assed torture you've organized here Danielle I'm kinda embarrassed for you. Seriously you should brush up on your technique cause- FUCK” something behind Leech landed on the floor in a wet thud. “Holy shit I didn't think he'd actually do it…….” the vampire said in a small shocked voice as her breathing rapidly began to increase. The barn was silent in shock, for only a moment nothing but a few splatter noises of thick ichor falling for Leech’s hand. Then the vampire gasped and lurched forward before opening her mouth to scream.

————————————-

Over all the eons he had existed today had to be one of the top ten worst days of pennywise’s immortal life. the clown led his nemesis down the corridors of his sewer preferring to travel this way and to keep the existence of his- friends is too strong of a word…..associates he has been forced to live with. Yes much better! The existence of his associates hidden.

The group didn't seem too  troubled over his mates plight anyway. Which infuriated the clown even when he showed them her severed finger they rolled their eyes. If they only knew of her condition! At least two of them would actually be concerned!

“Soooo…” the human behind him began to speak. Pennywise let out a low clicking growl in annoyance

“What”

“Now that we have this…truce..I have a few-“

“You get three.”

“Can one of them be how to kill you?”

“No.”

“All right then when did you grow feelings?”

“I didn't grow feelings.”

“That’s not what i saw back at the house”

the clown bared his fangs. “Next question.”

“You cant give me three questions and then refuse to answer them.”

“The only reason you're alive right now sheep boy, is because your grandfather was clever enough to build his farm somewhere I can’t reach. Which way?”

“Left. Are you controlling her mind how did this start?”

Pennywise laughed at that. “You think I wanted this to happen? I was quite content till Leechie ruined my life. She came on to me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“For all your snooping you sure don't know much. Humans, so moronic.” the clown grinned to himself. Mike chewed over the implications that someone could actually find this thing attractive enough to pursue it and even fall in love with it. Whoever or whatever Lucy Smith really was she must be sick in the head.

“What is she?”

Pennywise turned his head back and smirked as he walked. “Not human. Something much, much better.”

“Do you love her?”

The clown stopped cold. “That was three questions I'm not answering that.”

“You didn't answer it the first time. Do you love her?”

Pennywise stood still and silent. Mike couldn't see the clown’s ocean blue eyes or the slight quiver of his lip in the dark sewer tunnel but from the absolute stillness the librarian seemed to have his answer.

“We’re making another left.” Mike finally spoke up snapping Pennywise from his trance-like state. “I cant believe you of all people fell in love”

“Shut up Mikey.”

“Clearly she's had quite the effect on you.”

“I SAID THATS ENOUGH”

“The others aren't going to believe me when I tell them-“

Pennywise turned and roared in the librarians face. His fangs multiplying so much they no longer fit in his own mouth while his eyes bulged their alarming red and yellow. “NO! SHE STAYS OUT OF THIS” he practically spat bits of flesh into Mike’s eyes in his rage. It took a lot for the librarian to remain as calm as possible trying to remind himself that IT still needed his help and was desperate enough to broker a truce. He'd keep this bit of information for a later use, Pennywise may have a weakness after all.  As the clown turned back around still with those bulging glowing eyes lighting the sewer Mike sighed and boldly gave him one final jab to the ego.

“You definitely love her.”

“I hate your species so much” Pennywise mumbled and continued to blindly lead the way to the outer reaches of his territory.

——

They came to the end of the sewers greeted by the lush forest surrounding the town animals skittered away in fright at the sight of the creature that emerged from its domain squinting slightly in the light and sniffing the air.

“I don't smell her.” he snarled “Did you lie to me human?! I can find out yes I can! I’ll pluck out your eyes one by one and tear out your ears!” he sang and threatened the poor librarian who stood his ground and shook his head.

“No, I didn't lie. This is the back way to the farm a way only I know about.”

Penny snarled and huffed impatient and hungry from his walk. “Show me.”

“You have to promise”

“Yes, yes your life will be spared if she is unharmed.”

“No you have to promise not to kill anymore children.”

Penny bared his teeth at the librarian. He was close enough he could kill him now and search himself, it would take more time but he'd at least be rid of the little lighthouse keeper of those kids. The clown flexed his claws but paused when something crawled out of the river. A turtle hauled its self out onto a rock to dry in the last remaining beads of light in the setting sun something fluttered in the air around it landing on its shell and unfolding its pale wings. The moth sat on the reptile for a few moments before fluttering onto the clowns claw then out of his grasp forever off into the sky. A warning from his brother. Figures.

“This will not last.” Penny said at last.

“I didn't think it would. If it happens again, if you take a child I will call them back.”

“We have a deal then.” the clown grumbled. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place here. If Leech wasn't so vulnerable he could have said no and just gobbled his long time nemesis up but no. Things had to happen now at the cusp of everything important. He had little choice and he felt helpless and angry. For the first time he had something that made him happy other than food and his brother had to ruin his fun. First he’ll end the losers, then Maturin. He would see to it they all pay.

“Its just this way theres an entrance to the main barn through the cellar, I-I’d hide here when I was younger to get out of slaughterhouse work.”

“Couldn't take a life of a lamb could ya Mikey?” Penny sneered

“I raised them myself, its harder when they're your’s… but then again you wouldn't understand that would you.”

The clown snarled and let out a growl that was thick with offense. “I am learning.” was his answer as he pushed through the dusty wooden door. Mike chewed on the creatures words for a bit. What did that mean? The creature’s sense of urgency was starting to take on a much deeper meaning now as the librarian followed after him.

The cavern got darker and darker as they pushed forward Pennywise melting into the shadows despite his silver costume. Mike used a flashlight to keep track of the thing from his nightmares as it sniffed the dust filled air. Pennywise paused and inhaled deep a low gravely whine escaped his throat and he inhaled again as if the intoxicating scent was quelling an addiction.

“She's here.” he began “She's wounded.”

“Well, she is missing a finger.”

“Quiet human!” penny snapped and listened to the silent cellar.

His eyes flicked forward when he heard it. it was feint but ominous. Someone was singing and Penny knew the song well. She had been singing it non stop for a week now.  

Well you can't hold me

I'm too slippery

I do no sleeping

I get lonely

You can touch me

If you want to

I got poison

I just might bite you

Lie in circles

On the sunlight

Shine like diamonds

On a dark night

Ain't no mercy

In my smiling

Only fangs and

Sweet beguiling

Well the future he don't

Try to find me

Skin I been through

Dies behind me

Solid hollow

Wrapped in hatred

Not a drop of

Venom wasted

Well you can slip in

Try to find me

Hold your breath and

Flat deny me

It makes no difference

To my thinking

I'll be here when

You start sinking

The clowns posture relaxed in relief as he took in the siren call to him. He cocked his head to the side and grinned wide in the direction of the librarian who wasn't sure if it was wise to approach any further. Penny shut his eyes and sighed again.

“My Peachy.”

---------------------

Who’s ready for carnage! Cause shits about to get fucked up in the next chapter. Some graphic skin removal, playing 70s rock music on muscle tendons someone might even get shot in the face! How exciting! Oh and you know the reveal of whats been going on with our trashpire. That too.

#pennywise #pennywise x oc #monster roommate au #pennywise fanfiction #it fanfiction #mike hanlon #losers club #nosferatu oc #horror fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #leech really needs to learn how to shut up