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thezebrawlw · 3 years

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Donna Beneviento x Maiden.

I'M A BIT ANGRY 'CUZ WHEN I FINISHED, MY COMPUTER DID SOMETHING WEIRD AND RESTARTED AND WHEN I LOGGED IN AGAIN EVERYTHING WAS ERASED AND AAAAAAAALSKDFGKJDFKA

Warning: Mild suicidal content // Mentions of sexual abuse.

(A/N): (I'm still studying English, so if I have a mistake, I apologize)

Summary: A maiden arrives at the Beneviento mansion. What will happen when Donna begins to live with her?

(I'll do a part two, because I don't want this to be too long.)

- - -

The day the maiden arrived at the Beneviento mansion, it was raining. The door opened effortlessly. Not even the toxic pollen from the plants would drive someone crazy enough to come close to the house, so there was no need to have locks.

A chorus of high-pitched voices scared the young woman "what are you doing here" "how did you get in?" "You shouldn't be here" "Let's play with her, let's play with her"

The young woman felt scratches on her arms and on her legs, someone bit her arm and pulled her hair hard enough to almost rip it out.

"Please, I just want to hide," the woman yelled.

"You shouldn't have come in, stupid girl" "Now you belong to us"

Suddenly the dolls fell to the ground and crawled back to their places.

The young woman saw a shadow materialize in front of her. It was a slim figure, covered entirely in black, opaque cloth. The figure was carrying a doll in wedding clothes in their arms. It was from that doll that a hollow voice came out.

"You shouldn't have come in, stupid girl. Now you're never going to be able to come out."

"I don't care," said the maiden, "if you want to kill me, just kill me. I'd rather perish under the hand of a noblewoman than die from those hunters."

"You're not worth Donna's time" the doll spoke again.

"If you don't want to murder me, then let me serve you" implored the maiden "your house will always be clean, the fire will always be lit, there will be no dust shavings on your beautiful dolls, just please, let me stay here, Lady Beneviento"

Donna didn't move. Beneath her veil she had an arched brow, confused by her request. The pollen must have made her hallucinate enough to make her say those things.

"Change those old rags that you have as clothes and find something to clean", say the doll.

"Yes My Lady"

"The name’s Angie and the only Lady here is Donna. Got it, muddy face?"

"Yes, Miss Angie"

From that day on, the young woman became the servant of Lady Beneviento.

Working there would be easy if it weren't for the mischief the dolls played on her. If she swept, the dolls would run around the little mountain of dust. When the floor was freshly waxed, the dolls dragged their knives on the wood. At night, the dolls would not stop laughing or making sounds of babies crying. They also watched her sleep, sometimes sitting around her bed.

But the maid never complained, she just looked at the mess they made with a tired smile, as if she was watching little children do mischief. Even if they watched her sleep, the only thing she could hope for was to be killed, but that never happened.

During the first weeks Donna tried to induce the maiden some hallucinations, but it seemed not to work, she assumed that her new servant had some kind of immunity to cadou and by extension to the pollen of the flowers that grew around the mansion.

Donna watched her and evaded her in equal moments. The leader of the Beneviento was locked in her room or her workshop for most of the day, so te only way to keep an eye on the maiden was through her dolls.

It was for that reason that the maiden always walked with a small retinue of dolls behind her, like a mother duck with her chicks. She was used to it by now.

That's how Donna realised that the maid was a very good singer, but a distracted cook. She was thankful that she didn't need to eat, just a drink now and then, because she didn't think she would be able to eat coal with sugar in it.

She also noticed that the maid was an active conversationalist. She talked a lot and about everything. The dolls listened to her and little by little they began to join in the monologue.

The young girl listened attentively and that was how she learned the dolls's names, where they were located in the mansion and what they liked to play with.

Watching her, Donna also noticed that the maiden looked out the windows, a melancholic smile kept on her face when it snowed or when the sun made an appearance.

One particularly snowy day, the dolls pulled the maid to the front door, asking her to come out and play for a while.

"I don't know, I don't think Lady Beneviento will give me permission"

"It will only be a while, it will only be a while", said the dolls.

The maid had never asked Donna for anything since she arrived. Donna hadn't spoken to her either, if she needed something, Angie would be the one to speak in her place.

Then, a dark figure appeared on the stairs. It was Donna accompanied by Angie. The doll spoke for her.

"You can come out"

"I... Am I allowed, My lady?"

Donna nodded. Angie spoke.

"If you promise to stay in the garden"

"Yes, yes, thank you very much, My lady, Miss Angie"

Donna allowed Angie to join the others and then went to her room. From her bedroom window, she watched her servant and her dolls play in the snow. The young woman made small snowballs and distributed them to those who only asked one, becoming the person in charge of making ammunition for the doll's games.

Angie began to converse with the young woman. Thanks to her connection, Donna could hear her.

"Why did you come to Beneviento mansion, mudy face?"

"They were chasing me"

"Who?"

"Hunters. They know that my mother was a witch and that her blood runs through my veins. They are afraid that I'll curse people."

"Would you do it?"

The maiden laughed, a wicked, sing-song laugh.

"I already did it" under her clothes, she showed an exquisite necklace made with rose petals. "The petals of this rose are tongues of the people who tried to abuse me."

In her room, Donna froze. This young woman could be dangerous if offended enough. Would her witchy nature be of any benefit to Mother Miranda? She decided to keep her longer and also to ask the dolls to stop their pranks.

One night, the maiden slept peacefully, too peacefully, so peacefully that she awoke in the middle of the night. It was not normal to sleep like this as the dolls were still making noises. When she lit her room with a candle, she realised that she was alone.

She went out into the hallway and heard sobbing and banging upstairs. She ran to Donna's room and found the dolls by the door.

"My lady?"

Angie's voice answered.

"Go away."

"Do you need anything?"

"Go away."

"I can get you something to drink if you--"

"GET OUT!"

Then a group of dolls armed with knives followed the young woman to her room. She locked herself in and felt lucky to be alone.

Donna's anxiety attack ended around three in the morning, so it was to be expected that she would wake up after midday. She also knew that her attack had caused some dolls to break, so she grabbed Angie and left her room.

She noticed that there was no one in the corridor. Donna looked for her dolls and found them in their respective places, they were broken, but there wasn't a speck of dust on their bodies.

Donna asked if they had returned on their own, but the dolls replied that it was all thanks to the maid. Donna busied herself with her dolls upstairs and when she came down to the living room, she found the maid carefully cleaning the face of one of her dolls.

"You are ready, I will now place you on the table so that... ¡My lady!"

Donna smiled under her veil.

"What are you doing?" Angie, as always, spoke instead.

"I figured you wouldn't be feeling well, so I decided to accommodate the dolls instead. Is... it okay?"

Again, Donna did not answer. Instead, she turned her attention to repairing the broken arms and legs of the dolls, apologising quietly to each one for hurting them.

The maid continued her work on the cleaning and that was the first time the two had been in a room together for more than two minutes.

In the night, some of the dolls still in need of repair talked to Donna, all of them telling her about the maid and how pleasant her company was. They told her that the young woman was a good listener and that although they could not feel warmth, they were sure that her touch was warm because she was almost always in the kitchen.

The dolls also tell Donna that the young woman (they all referred to her as "mudface" thanks to Angie), was very good at playing hide and seek and sometimes helped play tricks on other dolls.

Donna realised how fond they had become of the young lady, so she decided to thank her in her own way.

In the morning, the maid found a small box wrapped in a ribbon. Inside was a pair of woollen gloves to protect her from the cold and a note in elegant handwriting that said "thank you".

Donna looked out of the window at the maid. She was hiding behind a fountain so that Angie would not find her. The day was snowy and somewhat cold, but it was no problem for the maid because her hands and neck were protected by gloves and a scarf.

Both items were Donna's creation. The leader of the Beneviento continued to make small gifts for the maid as a way of saying thank you for the care she took of her dolls.

When the game was over, and thankfully spring was in the air, Angie and the young lady sat down to enjoy the sunshine and make a couple of wreaths.

She finished making one for Angie and placed it on her head, then made a larger one and told her to give it to Donna.

She looked up and found Donna watching her, the maid smiled and waved, though Donna remained still.

The gift was well received by Donna and in gratitude she knitted another pair of gloves.

The end of winter was all about giving small gifts. It was no longer about gratitude, the two women liked to see each other wear or use the gifts they each made.

A flower necklace dipped in amber, a hood for the cold, a jar of biscuits, a flavouring made from pleasant-smelling herbs...

Donna left her room more often, sharing space with the maid. The evenings were quiet, but not uncomfortable. She still didn't speak directly to the young woman, so Angie always had to step in to make small talk.

The young woman, despite her nature, tried to speak little so as not to make her mistress uncomfortable, for which Donna was grateful.

On one occasion they were both in the library, each reading her own book. They were not sitting close together, but within sight of each other. They were silent, until Donna let out a little giggle. The maid couldn't help but glance in her direction, eyebrows arched and a half smile on her face. She had never heard Donna laugh before.

"Are you having a pleasant reading, my lady?"

Beneath her veil, Donna stood still. Angie was playing somewhere and couldn't answer to explain the reason for her laughter, so she just nodded.

From that day on, the maid tried to make Donna laugh more often. Sometimes just making funny comments or other times telling jokes to the dolls, making sure Donna was close enough to listen.

Donna laughed more often and was in a better mood. You could see it in the way she walked and in the new dolls she created. Even in the laughter that could be heard from her room when she was talking to Angie.

But one day, her progress in confidence slipped back.

This is the end of part one.

Part two is here

#Donna Beneviento #Donna #resident evil #resident evil donna #angie #angie beneviento #donna x maiden #fic

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thebookwormfairy · 3 years

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Maribat Winx Club Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

Marinette *panicing*: This doesn't make any sense. How can we be family? I was born on Earth! My parents were born on Earth! I'm an Earthling!

Damian gently grabbing Marinette by the shoulder: Angel I know this is a difficult time for you right now, but we need to focus of the mission right now, okay? Let's grab the miraculous and get back to Alfea, then we can all freak out about you and Jason being related there. Okay, Angel?

Marinette: Okay

Jason: Okay! We can have a big freak out party together with your parents, Bruce, and Alfred. Can't forget the brothers and our friends either! We can all have a mental breakdown together!

Marinette: Sounds fun!

Jason went over the the chest and opens it revealing a pair of red and black Polk a dot earrings

Jason: It looks like the Ladybug earrings. Let's head home guys.

As the fairies and specialists press the buttons to head home they all had one thought in their minds

If Marinette and Jason were family what did that mean for their quest for the Miraculous?

After a nice long freak out session between everybody over the apparent relation between Jason and Marinette they gathered in Ms. Faragonda's office to tell her what they had learned on Miracul

Faragonda: Then it seems what I feared has come to pass. I must call Bruce, Alfred, and the rest of the old Miraculous holders

Jason: Wait why?

Marinette: You used to be a Miraculous holder?

Faragonda: all questions will be answered in due time once everybody is here

Faragonda sent out the call to the surviving ex miraculous holders who came right away

Alfred, Fu, and Mariam gathered in Faragonda's office along with Bruce and Jon's dad Clark who was in charge of the Justice League, a group that formed to keep peace in the magix dimensions after the fall of Miracul

Faragonda: Thank you for joining us. As you know the Miraculous have resurfaced and with them the Dark Coven

Fu: We have heard of the attacks we have also heard of the brave students who are working the gather them. *Fu gestures the the young fairies and specialists* I assume these are those brave students

Dick raising his hand: I'm actually a teacher

Alfred: Yes Master Dick and we're all very proud of you

Dick now resembles and happy golden retriever

Faragonda: Yes these are the young people who have been gathering the Miraculous. So far they've found 5 Miraculous, the Fox, the Turtle, the Rabbit, the Mouse, and most importantly the Ladybug

Mariam: That's wonderful! If only we had the Black Cat and a member of the royal family then we could use them to pull the rest of the Miraculous to them

Faragonda: We might have 2 members of the royal family with us in this room. Jason and Marinette can you please stand up here with me

Jason and Marinette stood side by side in front of the crowd of adults

Faragonda: We've been working under the assumption that Jason was just a lucky citizen of Miracul that was able to escape it's destruction, but the Miraculous call out to him. And Marinette gained her Enchantix by saving Jason's life that means their family. I've had this feeling for a long time. Look closely at these two, who do they remind you of?

Alfred was nodding his head looking at the two as if he's seeing them in a new light

Miriam gasped, covering her mouth and tears weld up in her eyes

Fu was the one to put everybody thoughts into words

Fu: They look so much like Queen Clarisse and King Roland

Faragonda: We've been living under the assumption that the Dark Ones were smart enough to get rid of the royal heirs before the attack, but what if they weren't. What if young Prince Jason took his sister Princess Marinette to the portal room and was able to escape the planet but got separated along the way. One ending up in Gotham the other on Earth.

Alfred: That would explain a lot. When Master Jason first joined us at the Manor he use to have terrible nightmares about failing to protect somebody

Fu: To bad we don't also have the ring of the Black Cat then they could call forth the rest of the Miraculous using the Miraculous box

Miriam: But the box was lost along with Miracul

Faragonda: But we might be able to find it if we also had the Black Cat

Marinette: Is the Ring of of Black Cat black with a green paw print on it?

Fu: Yes it is. How did you know that Marinette?

Marinette was hesitant, but the voice inside her head said it was alright to show them the ring

Marinette reaching into her pocket: Last year during our final exam I was assigned Miracul as the dead planet I had to bring back. During the test i head a voice call me into a cave where I found this. The voice told me to keep it hidden and not to let anybody know that I had it

Marinette pulled out the ring from her pocket showing it to the people in the room

Fu: That is indeed the Black Cat Miraculous

Jason: Why didn't you tell us about it soon Marinette?

Marinette: I was scared what it meant if the Miraculous was really calling to me as well. If that means my parents weren't really my parents. If that somehow changed my relationship with them.

Fu walked over to the girl that reminded him so much of his dear friends and put a hand on her shoulder

Fu: Marinette I may not know you or your family, but if your parents took you in and raised you for the last 16 years then you finding out that you are adopted will have no change on the relationship you have with them. Unless you let it effect it

Faragonda: It is time for you two to claim you birthright as the wielders of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous

Jason and Marinette stared at eachother thinking over what Faragonda had just said

Marinette: But what if you're wrong? Didn't you say that anybody who wasn't the royal family or the Dark Coven would die if they but on the Miraculous

Faragonda: I'm not wrong. I've already seen you use the power of the Black Cat once before during the Scarecrow's attack on the school

Jason grabbing the Ladybug earrings: I'm in if you are Pixie Pop

Marinette tightened her grip on the ring: Let's do it or die trying

Adrien: Wow wow wow, there is no reason for either of you to die

Damian: Yeah I have to agree with Agreste let's try to not kill my girlfriend, Todd.

Jason with one earring already in: Yeah yeah yeah, don't worry Demon Spawn. I'm not going to lose my sister again.

As Jason slipped the last earring onto his ear and Marinette place the ring on her finger to balls of light came put of the jewelry and floated in front of the reunited siblings

The one in front of Jason formed into a ladybug looking creature and the one in front of Marinette formed into what looked like a small cat

Plagg stretching: Aahg finally! You know kid you could have put my miraculous on a long time ago. Your my kitten you got to get a little bit more curious then that

Marinette: Oh I'm sorry...

Plagg: Plagg Kwami of Destruction you got any cheese?

Marinette: Not on me but I'm sure we can go to the kitchen after this

Plagg: It'll have to do

Plagg flew over Marinette and landing on her head and looked every bit like an old house cat lounging on their owner

While this was happening Jason was meeting his own Kwami

Tikki: Hello Jason! I'm Tikki the kwami of creation! I remember you when you were just a little boy! You used to love chasing us around!

Jason: I remember you! You were my mom's kwami!

Tikki: Clarisse was a great Ladybug, but I know you'll do her proud!

Bruce didn't want to interrupt the found family's moment but they need to get this meeting back on track

Bruce: Since Jason and Marinette can wield the Miraculous does that mean they can summon the rest of the Miraculous right now

Fu shook his head: They would need the Miraculous box to do that and sadly we know for certain is in the hands of the Dark Coven

Marinette: But we can choose new wielders of the Miraculous right?

Alfred: That is correct

Jason: But we don't have enough Miraculous for everyone

Alya: Don't worry about that!

Rose: Yeah we all have Enchantix

Alix: This Dark Coven members have no chance against us in those forms

Juleka nodded her head in agreement

Marinette: Then let's give them to the Specialists. I love you guys but you don't have the same protections as the fairies. You'll be safer with the Miraculous

Jon: You guys don't have to worry about us we're Specialist. We are train to go into dangerous situations like this

The other boys go to agree with Jon, but Jason interrupts them

Jason: She's right boys, but we'll need to find 1 more so each of you can get one

Fu: If you two transform using the miraculous you'll be able to focus on a certain Miraculous and track it. I suggest the Dragon Miraculous it's one of the most powerful, besides the Cat and Ladybug

Jason: Let's do this Marinette

Marinette: Let's find that Miraculous

Tikki: Great! Jason all you have to do is say Spots On

Plagg: Kitten all you have to say is claws out

Jason: Tikki Spots On!

Marinette: Plagg Claws Out!

Jason now work what looked like the classic prince outfit with a red and black color scheme

While Marinette wore a tea length Princess Dress with a Black and Green color scheme with black cat ears on top of her head and black lace fingerless gloves covering her palms

Damian stared at his stunning girlfriend

Adrien was watching him with a smug smile

Adrien: Damian you might want to wipe that dwell off your chin

Damian quickly wiped his face only to find no dwell

Damian glaring at Adrien: Shut Up!

Jon: Don't tell him to shut up

Adrien: Yeah don't tell me to shut up

Marinette: I got it! It's like I can see the Miraculous itself!

Jason: Yeah it's on Salerios hidden in the royal garden

Clark: The League will call a head to the King and get him to allow us access

Bruce: We leave in an hour

And before the day was up the fairies and the Specialists had the Dragon Miraculous in their hands

Jason: Awesome with the Miraculous we have and you fairies' Enchantix the Dark Coven ont stand a chance

Tikki: And if you get the rest of the Miraculous and the Miraculous Box we can restore Miracul to it's former glory

Adrien: That'll mean you'll be a real life princess Marinette

Alya: With all the responsibilities that comes with it!

Alix: Like meetings with royals fron other planets and-

As her friends discussed Marinette's future everything really hit Marinette

It finally sunk in that her whole life was a lie

What if she wouldn't be able to see her parents any more

What if she couldn't be with Damian any more

What if she destroyed her planet like the Dark Coven did

Marinette: Hey guys I'm going to turn in for the day

Damian frowning: Are you okay Angel?

Marinette: Yeah I just need some rest after this hectic day

Jason: Are you sure Pixie Pop?

Marinette: Yeah I'm sure Goodnight

When Marinette went to her room she didn't feel any better

She knew what she had to do so she wrote a note to let her friends knew she was okay and headed to the portal room

Marinette stood in front of her parents backery gathering courage for what she was about to do

Tom and Sabine was closing for the night when their daughter rushed into the store

Tom: Marinette?

Sabine: What are you doing here sweetheart

Marinette couldn't help it and blurted out what she had learned

Marinette: I know I'm adopted!

@t1dwarrior-of-earth @clumsy-owl-4178 @vgirl-10123 @aestheticnpoetic @toodaloo-kangaroo @animegirlweeb @k-poplunardreams @our-preciousss @razzledazzle247 @justafanwarrior @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @eve-v0lution @fusser90 @dast218

#maribat #daminette #damian x marinette #big brother Jason #winx club au #winx club

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noladyme · 3 years

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The Wife - Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons. First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness. Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

TW: angst, violence, blood, smut (6573 words)

First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Strange reports were made of late night magic rituals, and more than once the gentleman had been seen with red stained hands – though it was unclear whether the stains stemmed from blood, or the powders he would use to draw markings on his face.

Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness; and no one wanted to risk a familiar connection with a woman who ended her days in Bethlem Royal Hospital – in common tongue, Bedlam Insane Asylum.

Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

---

Rosalind was seated in front of the small fireplace in her room at Mrs. Owen’s boarding house, fiddling with the garnet ring she wore on the long finger of her right hand. The fire had long since gone out, but she hadn’t the stamina or even will to get up and feed the dying embers with more wood. As it was, the cold she felt streaming through her veins went well with the chill of the room.

In her hand, she held a letter sent by Mr. Thoyt; the lawyer of her late father-in-law. She’d read it twice; and then once more, just to see if she had not been mistaken.

To; Rosalind Beauchamp c/o Mrs. Fanny Owen

Dear Madam, I sincerely hope this letter finds you well, as I received information that your absence from the funeral of your late father-in-law, was due to an ailment of some kind. Had you attended, I had a seat saved for you in the front pew, where it would have been proper for the heiress of Mr. Horace Delaney to be seated. Alas, I had to take the seat myself, as to not leave it unused; and make the fullness of the pews in the church seem uneven.

Rosalind rolled her eyes at this. There was no doubt in her mind that Thoyt would have filled the seat right next to her, if she had been there; claiming that would be proper, as he was the executor of the elder Delaney’s will.

I should like to extend the well wishes of Mr. Thorne Geary, who has asked if it would be in your wish to promenade with him one of the coming days. I counsel you to accept his visit; as you know he has only your well-being in mind, and bears warm sentiments towards you.

These sentiments Rosalind was well aware of; and was in fact doing her best to avoid the man, so she would not have to spend another drawn out visit, avoiding the topic of widows and widowers remarrying.

It is my hope that your ailment is not of the heart, for I fear I have rather disturbing news to pass on to you; and would not want to make you even more frail. I must inform you that James Keziah Delaney has returned to London. He arrived at the funeral service shortly before the minister began his sermon. These past ten years have changed him much, but it is indeed him.

James. After 3 years as a scorned wife, with a runaway husband, and then 7 more as a widow; he’d returned. A hard knot had formed in her stomach as she read on.

My dear, I urge you to avoid any contact with Mr. Delaney. He is, I reiterate, very different than the gentleman you knew; and from the looks of him, more beast than man. I will be happy to offer any legal aid you might need to separate from him, and fight for your inheritance. James Delaney was proclaimed dead 7 years ago; but as he has been gone for so long, I am sure we can find some legal way to proclaim you continued sole heiress of the Delaney fortunes – among them, the rights to the area in America known as Nootka Sound. I should like to call on you at your earliest disposal. With regards; Robert Thoyt, solicitor.

Rosalind’s hands were shaking, as she held on to the letter. She got on her feet, gazing at the intricately decorated chest in front of the bed in her small room. It had been a gift from her father-in-law; one that he had purchased on one of his many travels. It was the only gift she had ever received from the man, that hadn’t been given out of some sense of responsibility to her. She laid down the letter on the bedside table, and walked over and opened the chest. Moving around gloves, fabrics, unfinished embroidery works, and small boxes of beads and trinkets; she reached the bottom of the chest, where a for years untouched muslin gown lay, next to a veil of fragile lace. She pulled out the delicate dress, and laid it on the bed. It still had a dark stain on the front, from where the minister had spilt wine on her, as her husband and she had taken communion together after being wed. Once outside the church, James had stroked his index finger over the red stain – which was just over the left breast, and smiled. “It matches your lips, Rose”, he’d said; and her distress over having her wedding gown ruined in such a manner, left way to happiness. The way any woman should feel on her wedding day. She hadn’t realized she was crying, until another stain disgraced the muslin; one from a tear.

It was all too much to believe. This man, whom she’d cherished with a naïve and young heart, had suddenly reappeared, after being proclaimed dead. She had to see if it was true; if it was truly him.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Owen stepped inside; her large figure filling the doorway. “Lunch is ready, miss Beauchamp”, she said. “Thank you, but I will be going out”, Rosalind said. Mrs. Owen smiled brightly. “Will you be meeting Mr. Geary, then?”, she asked. “I will not”. “Mr. Thoyt?”. Rosalind had become a master at keeping her composure in regards to her nosy landlady; but today she was a little less inclined to be polite. “It is a private matter. Please call a carriage for me”, she said shortly, and the stout woman recoiled slightly at her tone. “Right away, miss”.

After the door closed again, Rosalind stripped off her plain, cotton day dress, and put on a dark blue gown; more suited for an afternoon visit. She shrugged off her inclination to wear the red gown. That would be too much. Her dark grey jacket, a purse and a capote to match, finished her ensemble. Her boots weren’t much to speak of, but they kept her feet mostly dry; though the soles were wearing thin.

The carriage was waiting for her outside the boarding house. She asked the driver to take her back to her former home.

---

Chamber House was even more dreary than when she’d been there last. The smell from the river running behind the house struck her nose, and Rosalind felt a chill go through her body. Trying to open the metal gate, she had to lean against it; putting her whole weight on the rusty thing. It made a loud screeching sound, when it finally opened.

The garden in front of the house was unkempt, and the windows on the bottom floor had been boarded up. For a moment, she considered leaving, as the building seemed abandoned. Maybe Thoyt had been mistaken, and the man at the funeral was an imposter. Smoke from the chimney let Rosalind know that someone was inside, but she had also heard stories of mudlarks roaming empty houses for warmth and the occasional cat that could be made in to dinner. This wasn’t a place for proper ladies, as countess Musgrove would say, but the countess was hardly a proper lady herself, and Rosalind had business to attend.

She went up the few steps to the door, and took a deep breath, before knocking on the door. There was the sound of a dog barking, and then some shuffling around, followed by a voice muttering at the dog. The door opened, and a slight, tired looking man appeared in front of her. “Brace…”, Rosalind greeted him quietly. The old butler stood seemingly dumbfounded at her arrival. She looked up at the sky. “It seems about to rain. May I please come in?”. “Of course, ma’am", Brace muttered, and stepped aside.

The grand hallway was less grand than it had been, years before. The house seemed dark and cold, and Rosalind did not feel inclined to take of her hat or jacket, when Brace reached for them. “I won’t be staying long”, she said. “I just came to see… Is it true? Is he back?”. “He is…”, Brace said with a nod. “This last week". “And you didn’t feel it necessary to inform me?”. Brace looked at the floor in front of him, and fidgeted with the hem of his tattered jacket. “He is changed, Mrs. Delaney…”, Brace began. “Miss Beauchamp”, Rosalind corrected him. Brace recoiled at this, but kept his expression as indifferent as possible. “Yes, miss”.

Rosalind walked towards the sitting room with as much calm as she could muster. “Is he here?”, she asked. “No”, Brace replied. “He is… on business. I don’t know when he’ll return”. “I’ll have to wait, then”, Rosalind sighed. Brace stepped in front of her. “Ma’am… Miss”, he said. “You shouldn’t. James isn’t… He is not the young man you knew”. “And I’m not the girl he knew either”, Rosalind retorted. “In any case, I need to speak with him…”. Brace must have seen the determination on her face, because he stepped aside, and let Rosalind enter the room.

It was dark, and smelled of a mixture of spices, whiskey; and wet firewood and ashes – only slightly taking away from the smell of the river. The furniture was the same, though damaged from the moisture seeping through the walls from the Thames. A large grey dog rested by the unlit fireplace, and lifted its head slightly as she entered. Though it had made its presence known earlier, it seemed to be more bark than bite; and simply let out a huff, as she seated herself on the sofa. It raised its eyes to look at her, and she smiled slightly at it; feeling like she got a sort of smile in return. “Tea, miss?”, Brace asked. “No, thank you”, Rosalind said. “Good. We don’t have any”, the butler smiled. “And from what I remember, you prefer coffee”. His expression had warmed, since he’d apparently accepted that Rosalind had no intention of leaving. She suspected he was trying to soften the blow of whatever she was about to face. “That sounds lovely. Thank you, Brace”.

After the butler had disappeared, Rosalind took some time to get reacquainted with the room in which she’d spent many hours, years before. Seated on this same couch, she’d kept her father-in-law company, as he rambled about his business and how everyone was trying to cheat him. She’d had tea with uninteresting ladies from all over town, who all came with well wishes after the wedding, combined with insincere regrets upon the departure of her husband, so soon after. The same night, in fact. A whole year she’d managed to keep her sanity in the house, which became draftier and drearier almost by the second. When his son had up and left suddenly, the elder Delaney had gone into a strange bout of melancholy; almost seeming to feel guilty about the fact. Rosalind did her best to keep up the façade of a good wife and daughter-in-law, but found it harder and harder to keep up with Mr. Delaney’s moods, and when the letters from her husband stopped, she found no reason to stay in the house any longer. She would visit weekly, but never for long, as the old man seemed rather indifferent to whether she was there or not, and mostly stared into the fireplace, and muttered to himself.

Horace Delaney had made sure she received an allowance to keep up with expenses; but 4£ a month did not stretch far. In the end, Rosalind had taken up work as a chaperone and occasional tutor to young ladies in the south-east of England – never straying too far from London.

Two years after leaving the Chamber House, Rosalind received a letter, letting her know that her husband was suspected dead in a shipwreck. The news hit her painfully hard. Deep down, she had always hoped that James would return to her one day, even after he was thought of as dead; though rationally, she knew better. She’d dreamed of him often. He was always at a distance, always out of reach. It was agony to miss him so. Now, he had returned, and as it was, clearly not for his wife.

Soon after, her visits became rarer. The elder Delaney more or less ignored her when she came, and more than once, he’d asked Brace to tell her to leave, while she was still in the room; so he could get back to work. She’d attended Zilpha's wedding, but the two had never been close; merely friendly acquaintances, with a dead brother and husband in common. Once Zilpha had passed, after a sudden disease that made her seem old beyond her years in just weeks, Horace made it clear he had no wish to see any kind if family; so for two years, Rosalind had stayed away from Chamber House.

Until today.

Brace returned with a tray of coffee and biscuits that looked hard enough to crack a tooth on. Out of sheer politeness, Rosalind picked up one, and dipped it in her cup of coffee, to soften the treat. Brace threw a biscuit at the dog, who gulped it up without much trouble chewing it. Rosalind dropped her biscuit on the floor herself, and the dog got up, and slowly walked over to eat it. It lifted its head, and looked at her; and she timidly scratched it behind its ear.

Suddenly, it turned its head, and looked towards the hallway. The door opened, and a gust of wind blew through the house; making it sound like the building was whimpering, as it passed through the cracks in the walls. A dark figure stepped into the hallway; the sound of his boots loud as canons. A long coat covered his broad frame, and he wore a hat; pushed forward on his head, and hiding his face in shadow. “Brace! Coffee…”, he ordered; his hoarse voice leaving very little trace of the raspy, warm one Rosalind remembered. Brace hurried to greet his master, and took his hat and coat. Rosalind sat very still, with bated breath and beating heart. “In the sitting room, but… sir, you have a guest”, Brace said. “I’m not inclined to receive anyone. Tell them to go away”. “You will want to see her… Maybe”. Rosalind got on her feet, and slowly turned to face the doorway.

James Delaney had indeed changed. Gone was the young gentleman, with the boyish charm and nervous smile; and instead, there stood a bearded, brute man, who had danger and darkness written all over his expression. A scar ran from his brow, and down over his eye and cheek.

Yet, she could not find a flaw on him. He was even more striking than the day they’d met. Love and pain streamed through her body. James took one look at his wife; nodded, and let out a breathy grunt. “Rosalind…”, he said. “James…”, she breathed; trying to keep her composure. Rosalind felt as if she might faint at any moment. She regretted coming to see him, and unsure what had been her reason. But now she was here, as was he; and internally, she struggled not to throw herself into his arms, or attack him with the fire poke.

Rosalind sat back down, and James took his place in what had been his father’s chair, opposite her; looking at the dog. He took a biscuit, and threw it in the air. The dog caught it, and gobbled it down. Brace went over to the samovar, and looked at Rosalind. “More coffee, miss Beauchamp?”, he asked. James eyes flew towards Rosalind, and then down at the ring adorning her right hand; and something hard ghosted his face. She immediately regretted not having worn gloves. “Yes. More coffee for miss Beauchamp, and then maybe a cup for your master, hmm?”, James said. “Of course, sir. And I’ve prepared a cod for dinner. Atticus brought it”. James replied with a grunt, and Brace poured coffee for them. “Will you be staying, miss?”. “No, thank you Brace. My landlady is expecting me at the boarding house”, Rosalind said. Once again, James gave her an unreadable, hard look.

Brace stood uncomfortably by the fireplace, before finally pretending to remember something he had to see to, and scuttered off. James and Rosalind sat in silence for a long moment. Trying to calm herself, Rosalind took a sip of her coffee. “I was told you died”, she said quietly. “I did”, James replied, and drank the entire content of his cup in one go. “You’re a widow, miss Beauchamp”. Rosalind’s cheeks flushed red. “It was easier to use my maiden name…”. “To separate yourself from my father, or me…?”, James grunted. Rosalind looked down. “To start anew”, she whispered. “I had to start over, after you left”.

James seemingly ignored that last sentence. “You did not attend my father’s funeral”, he said, his eyes fixed on something on the far wall. You did not attend our wedding night, Rosalind wanted to reply; but thought the better of it. “I felt indisposed”, she said meekly. “Too indisposed to say a last farewell to the man who has been keeping up your expenses these last 10 years?”, James challenged. “Whom you were set to inherit this house and the rest of his fortune from?”. “I am not kept”, she retorted. James eyes flickered. “I felt indisposed to sit through a sham of a service set up by a lawyer, who had no love for the deceased; and to then have to avoid the wandering eyes of every man in the room, hoping to get his hand on said fortune. And me”.

James raised his brows at her, making the scar on his face even more prominent. “You’ve had suitors, then?”, he asked. “I’ve been a widow, not a nun”, Rosalind retorted, an angry edge to her voice. James’ lip twitched into a slight smile, which was gone as soon as it had arrived. “But never remarried…”, he said. “You know I didn’t…”. “You could have gone to France. Stayed with relatives there. They could have found a suitable match for you”. “I have no family to speak of in France. And I’ve never met any of the few I have”.

With a loud bang, James put one foot up on the ottoman in front of his chair, and pulled off his boot. “So, is that why you are here? Because you want to be married?”, he asked, and took off the other boot. “You said my husband was dead. It seems that is not an option”. Rosalind did not understand why uttering the words brought her as much pain as it did; but she felt something break inside her when she did. “Then why?”. “I need to know where I stand. Dead as you may be, here you are; and my situation is much different than I thought it to be”, she said. “It is clear that I am no longer the heiress of this… grand house, and your father’s holdings. To add to that is that, legally I am bound to you; and you to me…”. “I will keep up with your expenses”, James said, interrupting her. “How much was my father providing?”. Rosalind bit her cheek, and looked down again. “4£ a month”, she whispered.

James eyes widened. “My father only granted you 4£ a month?”, he said. “That is not much money for hats, lace gloves and whatnot”. “Don’t insult me, James”, Rosalind said. “You know full well that I couldn’t care less about hats and gloves”. “Do I? I have not seen you in ten years”, James shrugged. “And who’s fault is that?”, Rosalind hissed. “Hmm”, James muttered. “How have you been making a living? I take it you have had to take on employment? There aren’t many ways for a gentle woman to make money. I hope you have not been forced to solicit yourself”. His voice was cold, and his eyes traced her figure. “You are cruel…”, Rosalind said. “And you are not first to have uttered those words. Though; vicious and evil are more common, when I am spoken of". James took a sip of his coffee, and studied her face for a reaction. Rosalind kept her composure, surprising even herself at her ability to do so.

“You should know I have received a letter from Mr. Thoyt, your father’s lawyer", she said. James met her eyes again, narrowing his own. “He has offered me legal aid in regards to claiming your inheritance”. “Which you will accept, of course". James said. “No. I will not. It is not my inheritance. I didn’t even truly want it, when I thought you were dead". He looked down at her feet, and she instinctively pulled them backwards, and tried to cover them with her skirts. “You could have used it", James said. “I don’t want your family’s money. That was not why I married you".

James got on his feet abruptly, making it clear it was time for Rosalind to leave. She stood up, and walked towards the hallway; clutching her purse. “I will provide you with 15£ a month. I do not want you taking on employment with anyone anymore… no matter what it is”, James said. “Why do you care? Very few people know I am your wife; and I do not use your name”, Rosalind replied. “I will not be dragging it through the mud”. “Call it taking responsibility for my mistakes”, he said. “Is that what I am?”. Her voice was shaking at this point.

James met her eyes, and let out a short, audible breath. “Take yourself to a shoemaker, and have him make you some better boots”, he said. “The ones you have on, are almost worn out. Have them send the bill to me”. “No, thank you. I shall mend them”, Rosalind replied. She went to leave, but James put a hand on the doorhandle; and blocked her exit. “You will buy new boots, and I will see that your current accommodations are suitable”, he said, looking seriously at her. “You don’t know where I live”, Rosalind said. “I will find out”. There was no doubt in his voice, he was merely making a statement of fact.

James opened the door for her, but before she could exit, he stepped outside, and looked across the garden, and turned his head to gaze down the road; almost as if making sure no one was watching them. When he finally stepped aside, Rosalind walked down the steps; and turned to face him one last time. “James…”, she said. “Rose…”, he replied; making her breath hitch. His eyes warmed for a second, before he stepped back inside, and closed the door.

---

Rosalind had a strange dream that night.

She was walking along the shore of a muddied lake. A way out in the water, with his back to her, stood a broad-shouldered man with markings on his skin. He wore no clothes, save a cloth to cover his privates. A dark gravelly voice was speaking strange words she did not understand, and when she called out to the figure in the water, he turned around. He was the one speaking, but the words were sounding as if they were coming from somewhere very close; not from where he was standing.

She closed her eyes in fear, and when she opened them again, he was standing right in front of her. It was James, but he had a painted face, and his eyes were black. She closed her eyes again, and covered her face. A strong pair of hands grabbed her wrists, and pulled them down. “Look at me”, James said. “No… You’re dead”, Rosalind said. “Am I? I am here now…”. “You left me. And then you came back as someone else”.

She opened her eyes again, and saw James as she had seen him earlier that day. No paint on his face, and bright blue eyes. “I was always here”. He put his index finger on her forehead, and then just over her left breast. “And here…”. When he removed his hand, a red stain marked her nightgown. “It matches your lips, Rose”.

She woke up in a jolt, and held her hand to her chest. Looking down, she saw a red stain on her nightgown, just over her left breast.

Getting out of bed, Rosalind walked over to the washbasin, and splashed her face with the cold water. She rubbed at the stain with a moist finger, but all that did, was make it more prominent, and her nipple harden from the cold, damp fabric now covering it. She walked over to the window and looked outside. Across the street, she saw a dark figure; looking up towards her. She didn’t recognize the face, but the menacing glare she thought she could see from under the rim of the persons hat, made her instantly move backwards, and out of view of the window.

The bed felt cold and unwelcoming when she got back under the sheets.

---

As she finished her breakfast the next morning, Mrs. Owen came into the dining room, holding a medium sized parcel. “This came for you, miss. Might you have a secret admirer?”, she said. She handed Rosalind the parcel, and a letter. “And your mail”. Rosalind thanked her, and went up to her room, to examine the parcel, and read her letter in private.

Inside the parcel lay a pair of half boots, in soft, yet sturdy leather. They would keep Rosalind’s feet dry and warm, and it was clear they had not been cheap. There was no note attached to the gift; though gift might be the wrong word, as James seemed to see her more as a responsibility to take care of, rather than someone to bestow presents upon. She threw the boots in a corner, unable to define her emotions – anger or sadness, she was not sure. After a few moments of frustrated groans and a few stray tears, she walked over, and gingerly picked up the boots; dusting them off with her hand. She set them down on top of the chest.

Rosalind turned her attentions to her letter. The writing was in the blunt and crude, yet feminine hand and wording of countess Musgrove.

To; Rosalind Beauchamp c/o Fanny Owen

Dearest friend, It has come to my attention that you have recently been made aware of some rather disturbing news. An acquaintance of mine has informed me that your apparently not so late husband has returned to London. It seems to come at a terrible time, as you were so close to inheriting somewhat of a fortune; at least enough to attract a new husband. Am I mistaken in thinking Mr. Thorne Geary has taken an interest in you? In any case, please call upon me for tea this Friday afternoon, so we might play a round of cassino, and discuss your plans for your now much changed future.

Sincerely; Genevieve Musgrove, countess.

Rosalind let out a very unfeminine and impolite noise. She would rather take an ice bath of lime, than sit through another afternoon of the countess and her friends gossiping and filling their gobs with sweets. None the less, she was obliged to attend, to stay in Musgrove’s good graces; and have a chance for another employment with her. And it was not like she had a husband, who could give her a good excuse to stay away.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Owen stepped inside. “You have a visitor, miss”, she said, a mischievous smile on her plump face. “Perhaps the green gown, for a promenade?”. “Mr. Geary, then?”, Rosalind sighed. “Indeed. And he has mentioned on many occasions, how lovely the green goes with your ten”. Rosalind cocked a brow at her landlady. “May I trouble your maid for help with preparing? I am finding myself out of sorts”. Mrs. Owen nodded, and left the room. Soon the young maid entered. “Please, will you fetch my blue gown?”.

---

Thorne Geary was waiting in the sitting room, politely smiling at Mrs. Owen; when Rosalind entered. “Miss Beauchamp! I came to enquire upon your health, after your absence from the funeral service”, he said. “Mr. Thoyt let me know you wished to call upon me; but I am quite sure I did not respond affirmatively”, Rosalind said. A dissatisfied expression ghosted Mr. Geary’s face. “Alas, I believe we have matters to discuss”, he said through an insincere smile. “Will you do me the honor of promenading with me?”.

A little while later, Mr. Geary and Rosalind were strolling along the lanes of Hyde Park. “Your gown is quite fetching, miss Beauchamp”, the gentleman proclaimed. “Almost as fetching as the green you wore when I last called upon you”. “I am unsure whether that is a compliment, or an insult”, Rosalind replied. Geary cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable about her response.

“It was quite a shock to see James Delaney at the funeral”, Geary said. He was holding his arm in such a manner, that Rosalind was invited to take it. She ignored the gesture. “I am sure it was”, she muttered; and moved her body to put a little more distance between them. Geary stepped after her, and the smell of the herring he had obviously eaten earlier hit her nose. Rosalind detested herring. “I am sure it came as an even greater shock for you, my dear Rosalind”, he said. “Please, Mr. Geary. I do not think we are quite close enough acquaintances for pet names”. “Are we not family? In-laws?”, Geary smiled. “Now, more than ever, it would seem, as you… husband has reappeared”.

He gestured for them to walk down a smaller lane, away from curious ears. “Ever since we first met, I’ve felt a close connection to you”, Geary said. “And, then when my dear Zilpha passed… well, I must admit, I hoped we might build on that bond”. Rosalind felt bile rise in her throat. “Mr. Geary…”, she began. “Thorne, please…”, Geary insisted. “Mr. Geary!”, Rosalind said firmly. “This conversation is highly improper, and I beg of you to stop”.

Geary sighed, and looked down. “You know of my sentiments towards you. Those have not changed, merely because that savage, who forced matrimony on you years ago, is back”. “You do not know him”, Rosalind said quietly. “Neither do you. From what I am told, your courtship was very brief. There were even rumors of you being in unfortunate circumstances…”. Rosalind stopped in her tracks. “Gossip mongering, Mr. Geary? So much for close connections”, she said.

Geary stepped over to a bench in an alcove, and gestured for Rosalind to sit. “Please, miss Beauchamp… for I insist on still calling you that, and not Mrs. Delaney, if you will not let me call you by your first name”, he said. They sat down together; Rosalind aiming for sitting as far from her companion as she could. “I, of course, am well aware that your chasteness can never be questioned. You are beyond doubt the kindest, most virtuous woman I have had the pleasure to meet. Even as my betrothed walked up the aisle to become my wife, I could not take my eyes off you…”. “You should stop speaking”, Rosalind said. “Please, let me get this off my chest!”, Geary said. His voice was not pleading; but hard – and Rosalind was reminded of how her sister-in-law had wilted from a lively and smiling favorite in London society, to a grey ghost of her former self, after she married. In this moment, Rosalind knew that Mr. Geary had been the one to make his wife such.

Geary took a firm hold of her hand, and when she tried to pull it away, he grabbed her wrist; and continued his speech. “Delaney is mad. I have spoken to more than one sailor, who have told me stories, I cannot repeat in present company”, Geary said. “He should have stayed dead, and let you keep the inheritance. You and I could…”. “There is no you and I, Mr. Geary”, Rosalind tried.

Geary’s hand around her wrist tightened. “I know I am not a very wealthy man, but you and I… we both married in to the Delaney family; and we saw how that mad old bastard brought shame on the name”. “Perhaps we should have helped him, instead of standing by?”, Rosalind muttered; trying to keep herself calm, as the man held on to her. He leaned in closer, and his hot breath hit her face. “No… He got everything he deserved; and sired two wretches, who continued to do the same”. “How can you speak of your wife in such a manner?”. “She was a barren fool…”.

Rosalind finally pried herself free from Geary’s grasp, and stood up; but he grabbed her by the arm, and forced her to sit again. “Let me go”, Rosalind whimpered. She was sure to have marks on her arm after his manhandling her. Geary looked at her intently. “I can do much with the money I can make from selling that plot of land in America; and with you as my wife…”. “I am already married, sir!”, Rosalind sneered. “Are you? Delaney was back for more than a week, without letting himself be known to you. It wasn’t until Thoyt wrote you, that you knew. He hasn’t taken you in; you are still living in that boarding house”. A vile grin, which Geary clearly thought came across as calming, spread across his lips. “But, never mind that. That can all be taken care of”. “What is that supposed to mean?”. A knot had begun forming in the pit of Rosalind’s stomach, and she was shaking.

“You speak ill of my dear sister, and now you have intentions on my wife”. James appeared in front of them; a dark look about him. “Let her go”. “You interrupted our conversation, Mr. Delaney”, Geary said. “Is that what you were doing? Conversing? Or plotting my demise…”, James retorted. “In any case, you have your hands and mind on what is still mine. Release the lady”.

Rosalind tore herself from Geary, and got on her feet, moving away from the bench; and towards James. He gave her a look of dissatisfied confusion, and she went to stand next to him, her eyes on the ground. “You should have stayed dead”, Geary sneered, and got on his feet. He stood taller than James, but in no way seemed as dangerous as him. “Is that what you tell my sister, when she haunts your nightmares?”, James asked. Geary recoiled at James’ words; and James half turned towards Rosalind. “I will escort you back to your lodgings”, he said, and turned his back to Geary. Rosalind followed his lead, and they walked down the path. She felt Geary’s eyes on her back as they went.

---

They walked in silence. Rosalind struggled to keep up with James’ long strides; and after a while, she stopped, and went to sit on a bench at the side of the lane. “I have things to do. If you need to catch your breath, then be quick about it”, James said. “You don’t have to escort me. Go about your business”, Rosalind retorted. “And risk the predators setting on you? Come now, we have eyes on us”. Rosalind looked around her, seeing no one but ladies, gentlemen, and the occasional governess taking a child on a stroll. “What eyes?”.

James narrowed his eyes for a moment, as if making a decision of whether to tell her more, or hold his tongue. In the end, he settled for continuing. “Your Mr. Geary made it clear”, he said. “He is not my Mr. Geary. I’d prefer to avoid the connection all together”, Rosalind retorted. “Hmm”, James grunted. “He made it clear, as I said. I am to be taken care of. There are evil men who are out to kill me”. “And my sore feet put you in danger?”. James seemed taken aback, and slightly amused at her retort. “Perhaps you should have worn your new boots”, he said, and stretched out his hand for her to stand. Rosalind was about to take it, when she saw that James had removed his glove. “Come…”, he said; and with her heart in her throat, she took his hand.

It was as warm as she remembered, and his touch sent the same shivers down her spine, as it had those many years before. As she stood in front of him, everything around Rosalind disappeared; and all she could see, was the man in front of her. She breathed him in. Musk, fresh tobacco, grass, dirt, coffee – and that undefinable thing that was merely him. “James…”, she whispered. James expression hardened, and his eyes became dark. “No… None of that. Do not make yourself a weakness”, he said. “And do not let me become one, either. You are too good for that”. “But you…”. James let go of her hand, and his face grew almost saddened. She looked down at his hand, and saw that the tip of his index finger was red. Rosalind let out a soft gasp; and when she opened her mouth to speak, he was already walking down the path again. He slowed his pace, so she could keep up; but did not speak to her for the rest of the walk.

Once back at the boarding house, Mrs. Owen met them in the door. “Going out with one gentleman, and coming back with another… Really, miss Beauchamp”, she said in a chiding voice. “Not a common occurrence, then?”, James said. Rosalind had to will herself not to slap him. Mrs. Owen raised a pair of cold eyes. “I beg your pardon… This is a proper establishment, sir!”, she exclaimed. “And who are you?”. “Her husband”.

Mrs. Owen looked stunned, and for once, she didn’t seem to know what to say. “You are… Well, that’s… You are recently wed, then?”, she asked. “No”, James said shortly. He looked at Rosalind one final time, before turning around, and walking away.

---

#james delaney #james delaney x oc #james delaney fic #james delaney angst #tom hardy

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cedric-stories · 3 years

Text

The Ball (Cedric x reader)

Word count: Around 1,700

warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, and idk, they kiss? LOL

Reader pronouns: he/him

Plot: You just got hired to work as a waiter in the castle. (I’m crap at summaries, lol)

Author’s note: This was a request from @pap3r-fl0w3rs . It was my first request ever and I about fell out of my chair when you gave it to me, lol! Thank you so much for asking! I enjoyed writing this so much (even if it took forever for me to finish it, lol). Hope y’all enjoy it!!

The Ball

You were so excited. It’s the first day of your new job at the castle. You had seen an ad in the paper by chance about a waitering job. You didn’t ever think you’d actually get it, but next thing you knew, Baileywick was giving you an interview for the position. It had been a rough few days though. You had to move all your stuff up to the castle by noon yesterday. You were unpacking till 3am. Even though you were sleepy, it was worth getting the extra things done before getting started on your real job.

Orientation started at 8am and lasted till 5pm. Yes, 9 hours of sitting in a plastic chair listening to a gray old man rant about policies was tiring. The only good thing that came out of it was meeting a new friend.

“Hey, can I sit here?” A blond, slender young man asked. He had his arms crossed and looked rather uncomfortable.

“Of course,” you grinned, trying to seem as friendly as possible, “I’d love to have the company.”

He sat down quickly. “Thanks,” he paused then leaned in next to you. “Are you nervous?” he whispered.

“Oh yeah. I’m shaking,” You laughed, lifted your arm up to show him.

He looked comforted by your agreement.

“Yeah. So, what’s your name?”

“I’m y/n, what about you?”

“I’m Tyler, I came from the village.”

“So did I! Where at?”

You two continued talking till the lecture started. After, you walked out into the ball room to begin setting up.

Forks, napkins, plates, and tablecloths were flying everywhere. It was a race against the clock to get everything ready for the big night. Before the actual event started, you had to get changed into something more formal.

Running back to your room, you ripped open your wardrobe to find an outfit. The castle staff had certain clothes you were able to wear for formal events, and since this was going to be one of the biggest balls of the year, you had to follow this exactly. Grabbing your newly ironed, black pants, you slipped them on along with your white button up shirt. You ran your belt through the loops and slapped on your suspenders. You were about to run out the door when you remembered your bow. Grabbing it out of your drawer, you snapped a raven black bow around your neck, fixed your collar, and ran for it.

When you got back to the ballroom hall, you took a left into the employee doors. Fixing your hair, you tried steadying your breath and walked into the kitchen, trying not to appear too winded.

“Once the royal sorcerer sets off the ceremonial fireworks, we will begin serving drinks. We will not start bringing out food of any sort until 11pm. Alright, let’s get ready.” The manager of the serving staff shouted over the clanking of pots and pans.

…

“Everyone, I’d like to thank you for being here,” The King began, standing on the golden ballroom stage.

Your heart was wildly pounding. This was it. This was your big chance to impress the King and staff by how well and efficient you could work. You could actually learn to love this job and living in Enchantcia’s castle would just be the cherry on top. Roland continued on and you were zoned out until you heard the word ‘fireworks.

“My wonderful royal sorcerer, son of Goodwyn the Great and Winnifred the Wise, also known as Cedric the Sensational, will be lighting the ceremonial fireworks with magic this year.”

As the crowd cheered, you saw a figure stepping out behind the curtain. He was average height and had dark hair. You could see he was wearing a long, plum robe with a large, floppy bowtie. His light bangs swayed as he walked up to center stage and his narrow shoulders were slightly scrunched together. Shaking, he took out his wand and said something quietly.

Within seconds, lights spewed from every corner of the room. The Enchantcian colors filled every eye and the guests cried out with joy. One, then two, then the whole room began to applaud in the fireworks’ honor.

Even though the room lit up like a candle, and the fireworks were clear and bright, the only thing you could focus on was that still-shaking man on the stage. You could see him running back and forth, making sure everything was going as planned. He looked to the King with his eyebrows raised and eyes big. King Roland gave him an approving nod in return, and you saw Cedric stand up a little taller. He was adorable.

You noticed him look your way. You caught his glace and locked eyes with him. His eyes were kind and full of a questioning look. You felt your cheeks heat up and you put your hand to your face to hold back a giggle. Suddenly, the fireworks began to crack and rumble.

“Cedric! What is going on?” The king yelled over the crowd’s fearful screams.

“I-nothing, sir! Let me fix it!”

You were horrified and ran to the backroom.

Once you got there, Tyler noticed your concerned look and the way you were gripping the table.

“Dude, are you okay?”

You looked up with a pale face.

“Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“First off, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Second, you were running for your life.”

You looked up at him.

“Well,” you hesitated, “I was looking at the royal sorcerer and- “

“Wait, like looking like ‘oh, he’s lighting off fireworks’, or looking like ‘oh, that guy’s really sexy’?”

You felt your cheeks heat up again and Tyler laughed.

“It’s okay, we all think people are hot. Okay, now go on.”

“Okay, well, I was checking him out when he looked back at me. We made eye contact for a minute then the fireworks started going nuts.”

“Oh,” Tyler paused, “well, maybe he got distracted by you.”

“What? No-I mean-he’s so him and I’m just a server. We don’t even know each other.” You laughed nervously.

“So? You should try to talk to him.”

“Try to…okay, I will.” You said, nodding your head.

“Good luck.”

Next thing you know, you’re out serving to the guests.

…

You continued to serve guests for around an hour. You reached a group on young women and waited until they had stopped talking to politely interrupt.

“Hello, would any of you care for some drinks?” You asked, trying to sound as polite as possible.

They all looked at each other and smiled. As conversations normally go, two went to reply at once. This stopped both of them from replying and led them to get into a quiet “go ahead” “no, you go ahead” fight until finally they all started too giggle, and all declined the offer. You were about to walk away when you heard footsteps behind you.

“H-hello, I’m Cedric.”

Your shoulders stiffened. Turning around, you saw the same man that was on the stage a few hours ago.

“Hello,” you answered, “my name is y/n y/l/n.”

Cedric stared at you for a moment before saying anything. That moment felt like it lasted a year. His eyes were tightly fixed on yours as you began shifting.

“Are you the same man that was standing by the servant’s doorway? During the fireworks.”

“Yes, I am. I didn’t know if you saw me or not. I was just-um-I thought,” you paused, unable to formulate your sentences correctly. He was so handsome, you had to try your hardest not to get too lost in his looks. “I thought you looked very attractive up there and I guess I was just staring.” You laughed, regretting how forward you had been.

Cedric looked shocked.

“You thought I looked- “

“Yeah.” You cut him off, sighing.

“Y/N! Why aren’t you serving guests? Go back to your job!” You heard your supervisor yell, marching over to you.

“I’m sorry, sir. I was just- “

“I could fire you over this!” He shouted, giving you a menacing scowl.

“Please, I’ll get back to work right away- “

“Actually,” Cedric interrupted, “I think he’s done enough work for the night.”

Your supervisor shot Cedric an infuriated look.

“Cedric, he is my employee, he was employed to work for me.”

Cedric cocked his head.

“Yes, I understand that, but I am above you in my services to this kingdom, so I think you, in a way, are my employee.”

“Cedric- “

“So that being said, you are letting him off for the rest of the night. Understood?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Fine.” The supervisor said, waving his hands in the air and walking off.

You didn’t know what to say. You just stood there, frozen in time.

“Mr. y/l/n, would you care to dance?”

You smiled.

“I’d love to.”

The night was filled with dancing and talking. You began to get to know the sorcerer quite well.

You had guided Cedric out the door towards the gardens by the end of the 2nd hour of the morning. The two of you broke apart and you decided to walk towards the beautiful greenery.

Walking along, you noticed his hand down at his side as you two walked.

“Cedric,” you said in a questioning tone.

“Yes, y/n?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

Cedric’s eyes widened.

“If you’d like to.”

Without waiting another minute, you reached down and slid your hand around his. It was a weird feeling. You didn’t expect his gloves to feel cold and apparently, they were made of leather.

Finally reaching a lush, secluded place, you stopped walking and looked up at Cedric.

“So, is it just me or is there something between us?”

You laughed nervously.

“Well, I don’t know,” you slid your arms around his waist, “you tell me.”

Cedric leaned in closer to you, pressing his body against yours.

“It would seem that maybe the two of us have some kind of- “he was cut off when you closed the gap.

A soft kiss began, slowly continuing as you lifted a hand up to meet his cheek. You felt him shift, repositioning your other arm to wrap around his neck. Things began to heat up when you opened your mouth to see how he’d react. He was hesitant as first but gave in to letting your tongue enter.

A few minutes had passed, and now you two had found a spot on the ground, you are hovering on top of him.

Breaking the kiss, you looked into his hazel eyes and smiled.

“I think this should become a new habit of ours.”

He leaned up to kiss you again.

“I believe that’s a wonderful idea.”

Author’s note: so funny story. I don’t have someone to read any of my fics before I post them. This one meant a lot to me, so I decided I’d try my best not to have so many problems with my misspellings and grammar. To help make sure it flowed, I decided to turn on the read aloud setting on my document (I use Word to write my fics), and it was read to me in such a choppy, dry voice I was laughing my head off the whole time! Think of the most boring teacher reading a Cedric x reader fic! I think I’m gonna use it more often. It helped with the flow, but it also gave me a little happiness in the middle of these trying times. Love y’all! Hope you liked this!

I want to post again soon, but honesty I don’t know when. I had a few things in the works that I really couldn’t connect to. I have new ideas, but I haven’t even written outlines yet

#Cedric the sorcerer x reader #cedric the sensational x reader #Cedric the sorcerer #this was so fun #new writer still #probably needs editing #x reader #love you guys #fluff #fluff fluff fluff #i love the fluff lol #i cant click the post button #i will come back and edit again #this is how i learn lol

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vintagegoddess12 · 4 years

Text

Radioactive Salvation Ch. 5

[Cordelia Goode x Reader]

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, and 4

A/N: I am alive, yes. Thank you for waiting y’all. Throughout the months that I’ve taken a break (that was a real long break asdfdghkl), lots of you continue to read and send sweet messages. Those are real inspiring. If you’re reading this chapter, hold on to your horses because Chapter 6 is coming sooner than you think. Enjoy y’all.

@cordeliasflowergirl @athenamgh @stevenuniversetanzanite @germansarechill @chonisbestmistake @alurous

Just comment down below your thoughts and suggestions. You can also dm y’all. Everything is much appreciated.

I sat on the head of the table and Misty took the chair to my left, an action that made Madison's brow to raise but we just shrugged it off.

Myrtle is the only one who isn't seating yet. When she noticed, she got off the phone and instantly sat down. "Pardon me, girls. Bubbles just called and said she's going to drop by later to greet her favorite roommate a happy birthday."

"Oh please!" Madison rolled her eyes, "She's her favorite because she's the only one who stuck with her."

"Who's gonna have a birthday?" Misty asked while chewing a part of her bagel. I tried to remember what date it was and failed. Things have been too busy around the manor. I haven't even visited my room for a while now.

My room.

I suddenly remembered you. My body stiffened at the thought - or lack thereof - I had of you for hours now.

"It's Y/n's birthday," Myrtle answered the witch in front of her. "She used to be Bubbles' roommate before she moved into Delia's bedroom."

How careless of me! I completely forgot about your birthday. I don't think I even got you a gift, not that you care for the material things. I glanced at the seat on my left, the one you usually occupy, only to realize that it was Misty taking the place. I was too preoccupied with assisting Misty yesterday that I don't remember seeing you all day.

"Where is she by the way?" Mallory inquired that prompted everyone at the table to look at me. They're used to me knowing your whereabouts, especially before we got out of bed. I'm used to that too but this morning was different. You didn't grace my mind until they've reminded me. What is wrong with me?

I tried answering but no sound came out of my mouth. I took a deep breath and excused myself, "I'm going to wake her up now." A sudden flush of guilt run over my body. I walked to our room, but not before overhearing the girls' hushed discussion.

"Did she just forget her girlfriend's birthday?" Coco whispered. Zoe called her out, saying it wasn't nice.

"I don't think it's just her birthday that she forgot," Madison remarked. I can feel her stare behind me. Sometimes, I hate her for being right.

I reached the door and I was trying to think of ways to brighten up the situation. You hate waking up alone in the morning, that's why I was always hesitant to leave our bed when Misty or any other of the girls need me. That's why you moved into my room after Bubbles left to continue her career outside the coven even before we were together. That's why you went to the academy.

You hate to be alone.

Before I opened the door, I decided that I will make it up to you by treating you to dinner tonight then perhaps stargazing. You've always liked the silence of the night and the moon and stars gracing the night sky. It wasn't much but you've always loved the simplicity in things.

When I opened the door, I was expecting you to be seating in front of the mirror and combing your hair - that routine you take the longest to do in the morning - or lying in the bed because you're mad at me. I was surprised to see neither. In fact, you weren't there. The bed was made and cold - untouched by any living person for a long time. I checked for you in the shower, maybe you were taking your time in the tub. You weren't. Nervousness trying to creep its way slowly inside my head. I tried to shrug it off and checked the window facing the garden. Maybe you wanted to have some alone time with nature. You're still nowhere to be seen. This time, there's no denying that I am scared.

I walked myself back to the dining area, the girls' confused faces welcomed me. "Where's y/n?" Myrtle asked, "Is something the matter, dear?"

I looked at her and summoned the courage to speak. "Does anyone know where y/n is because she's not in our room?" Addressing everyone at the table. The younger witches talked in hushed tones then shook their heads.

Coco raised her hand to get my attention, "The last time we saw her, she was going to Misty's place to clean up, right?" She confirmed with Queenie who in turn nodded. "But that was like yesterday morning," my voodoo sister witch added.

That wasn't good. You never leave the house and don't come back before sunset. I stepped back and tried to remember the location of Misty's shack, one I always go to when I want to have peace of mind. I was able to do that but not before a gloved hand reached for me.

"You are so not using transmutation to go there, Delia." Aunt Myrtle remarked, distracting me.

"But I have to get there fast," I replied, too strongly.

"It's dangerous out there, with the Antichrist and everything," her grip on me tightened.

"The more reason I have to be there, instantly!" I snatched my hand away.

"Stop bickering, the two of you," Madison, now walking away from the dining table, intervened. "Queenie, you're in charge of the academy. Zoe, you're coming with us."

"What are you going to do?" Zoe hesitantly asked her sister witch.

"Buckle up, bitch. I'm driving," Madison replied while reaching for her keys in her bag.

I practically sprinted to her car and took the front seat. When Madison took the wheel, she went as fast as she could but not as fast I wanted. I tried speeding up the vehicle but that resulted in Myrtle yanking my hair from behind to distract me. Somehow, she knew words wouldn't exactly stop me so she opted for the physical approach.

When we reached the swamp, time stood still for me. I don't feel your presence, just traces. I approached Misty's house only to be embraced with familiar warmth.

Your warmth

You were here, I'm positive. I called out your name before I went inside, maybe you're just sleeping.

"Is this...?" Aunt Myrtle motioned to the energy surrounding the shack.

"A protective dome, yes," I replied. "I didn't know she can do that." I can't help but smile. I've always known that you are powerful and as years pass by, you learn to master even the highest forms of witchcraft.

I entered the house, hoping that you're inside, only to find the remnants of your visit. New albums of Fleetwood Mac. New stereo. No trace of dust. When I used my gift of Sight, I see you cleaning up with a content look on your face. Tears started forming in my eyes until Zoe called out for me.

"What is it?" I asked my council. She pointed me in the direction of the two bodies lying on the grass and starting to fade away. I quickly grabbed a part of them before disappearing only to see visions of you.

You were running for your dear life.

That's the only thing I saw. Then everything went black.

I can't feel you. I can't even see what happened afterward.

---

Seeing you running and knowing nothing but that shook me to the very core. I tried. Believe me, darling, I tried to find out what took place in the woods but I failed. Your sister witches were helping as well but we still had nothing. The coven was spread too thin, between finding you and ensuring that we are safe from the Antichrist.

It was before supper and Misty knocked on our bedroom.

"Delia, the food will be ready any minute," she said as she stood in the doorway. I nodded and continued to stare at your favorite dress hung on the dresser.

"She'll want ya to be strong, ya know," she said unpromptedly.

"I don't know what she wants anymore," I uttered.

"Shame," another voice chimed in the conversation, "that's what she would want you to feel."

I turned to see Bubbles entering the room. Misty excused herself right before the older witch slammed the door.

"You've been avoiding me," I remarked. It's been days since she occupied her old room here and this is the first time she spoke to me.

"So did you," she nonchalantly said as she sat down at the edge of the bed. It's true. I don't even know how I'd tell her that you were gone or lost or how unsure of it I am anymore.

The silence enveloped the room for a few a second before she spoke. "I've always known she would die if she stayed here, with you."

"She's not dead," I replied sharply, trying to hide the pain the statement caused.

"How sure are you?" She took a hit from her cigarette. Silence once again covered the air, if not for the occasional huff and puff from her cigarette.

The idea that your own best friend is uncertain that you're alive breaks my heart even more.

"She almost died for you once," Bubbles whispered, with her voice breaking. The sentence prompted me to look at her way. She put out her cigarette and looked at me, tears forming in her eyes. "[y/n] is all about saving the people she loves," she continued, "no matter the cost."

"I know," I replied trying to keep my voice from wavering.

"No, you don't" She replied sternly. "She fights these silent battles for us, keeping us from harm that we don't even know exists."

At this point, I'm not even sure what would be the next words coming out of her mouth.

"You're probably wondering what I'm saying," she lets out a little scoff before continuing, "there was a time when she saw your powers fading."

In my head flashed moments from years ago when I felt someone was taking the air out of my lungs, unsure whether I was being cursed or dying. I couldn't even walk straight on my own. I would rush into my office just to hide the fact that the coven's new supreme is sick or worse... fading.

"She performed a ritual to stop your weakening," she muttered in the air, taking me out of my reverie. She continued to look at the white walls of my - our room, "she performed it perfectly but we all know every ritual has a price."

She paused momentarily before facing me, "She was writhing on the floor with life draining out her eyes. We were so sure that she's dying." The former actress can't stop the tears falling out of her eyes. "I felt shame because I was her senior and friend and yet we can't do anything to help her"

"Who's we?" My voice filled with confusion, "what ritual?"

"I can't tell you that because I made a promise," she stood up from the bed preparing to leave, "and unlike you, I'm not gonna let that girl down."

Looking at Bubbles, I'm not sure whether it was her intention to hurt me but all I know is that her words sting. The woman you have treated like family all these years thinks that I'm the reason you're gone.

It hurts because I know she's right.

"All I can say is," she paused to get my attention, "that ritual made her the barrier between the transfer of your powers to the new supreme." She looked around as if not wanting to say what was about to come out of her mouth.

"So if you think you are fading," she says the last word like it's the plague, "that means the barrier is gone."

She blinked back her tears before walking out.

Love, are you really gone?

---

The logical answer is no.

You are breathing, existing, in this post-apocalyptical world you have created with the Antichrist.

However, looking at you right now through the blurry, intoxicating fog outside the Hawthorne Academy, I think it's safe to say the [y/n] I know is gone.

The black dress that hugs your figure emanates darkness and deadliness. The way you move and position your body speaks of a changed woman. A woman who can hurt and kill. A woman who can-

"-who can what, Cordelia?" a sharp voice echoed around me.

The fog between us cleared and showed you - tears streaming down your face. I was about to open my mouth when you answered the question yourself.

"A woman who can end the world?"

"[y/n]..." I was about to disagree when you continued.

"You're not wrong about that."

#cordelia goode x reader #Cordelia Goode #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #radioactive salvation

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Dating (Old) Vito Corleone

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(This repeats a few things from the young Vito headcanons but I rewrote them so they’re not completely the same. Hope you enjoy!)

- For the sake of these headcanons, let’s say that him and Carmela split sometime in the 1930′s; amicably, of course.

- You’d heard of and saw Vito far before you met him. Growing up, you were told plenty of stories about his generosity and kindness, as well as his ruthlessness. Every now and again your friends would point him out on the streets, whispering in your ear about who he was and the things they’d heard about him.

- Even as a teenager, you found him handsome in a way no one else in your life was though you kept your attraction to him a secret, not wanting to hear the teasing you’d inevitably get from your friends; who were only interested in the boys your age.

- You finally met Vito for the first time after you began working at a small pet shop. By then you were a young woman, far more mature and with more life and dating experience; though you hadn’t had much luck with boys your age.

- The older man had come into the shop when you were first starting out. His presence completely caught you off guard; never in your life would you have imagined The Godfather as a pet owner, let alone a kitten owner which you could assume from his purchases.

- You really had to work to keep your composure as he made his way over to the front counter. You were working alongside the owner, who greeted the man warmly as he approached.

- The two of them talked for a little while before Vito’s eyes fell on you. The owner introduced you to him, explaining that you were a new hire as the man greeted you with a small, friendly smile. Your boss and The Don exchanged a few more words; some about you, as he paid for his things

- As he was leaving, he gave you a final smile, telling you it was nice to meet you. Your heart skipped a beat and you quickly realized that your childhood crush had not faded nearly as much as you’d hoped it had.

- You’d soon come to realize that The Don’s visits to the pet shop were a weekly thing, he’d always buy a small supply of what he needed instead of buying in bulk like most of your customers. You assumed he liked the atmosphere of the pet shop or that he enjoyed doing something normal in the midst of his crazy routine.

- After your training process ended, the owner of the shop began to leave you in charge every now and again. You mainly just worked the cash register while he did something in the back of the shop but occasionally he’d leave you all alone while he went out to run some errands or when he came down with something. This was when you were able to talk to and get to know Vito.

- It started as small conversations while you rang him up then the two of you began to talk more and more. He’d tell you stories, ask about your life, tell jokes, etc. You began to consider him a friend, someone you always enjoyed seeing whenever he came in.

- Then one week he didnt show up. His absence worried you so when your boss received a call from the man, informing you that he was sick and asking if he could drop off some supplies for him, you were fairly relieved.

- Your boss would have done it himself but he was busy with business matters, he asked if you’d be willing before informing the man that you’d be there in a little while. So after your usual shift, you took the mans usual purchases and written down address in hand, and made your way over to his gorgeous home.

- Once you saw the state he was in, you insisted on providing him with some kind of help. He found your worry and eagerness both amusing and heartwarming.

- He thanked you before welcoming you to sit beside him on one of his many armchairs, telling you that your company and conversation would be enough help.

- You aren’t sure how exactly the subject of relationships had come up but it had. He’d asked you whether you were seeing someone, saying something along the lines of “a beautiful young lady like yourself should be beating men off with sticks” which made you laugh.

- You told him you were single and that you hadn’t had many boyfriends before, pausing before telling him that you were pretty sure you just couldn’t stand men your age.

- He gave you a smile, nodding thoughtfully before asking if you’d ever been with someone older. The question had just a hint of a suggestion to it which was not missed on you though you figured it was just your mind jumping to hopeful conclusions.

- You answered with a teasing “apparently not old enough”, sending him a smile before asking if you could make him something to eat, seeing as it was just around a normal dinner time. He agreed as long as you’d join him.

- So there you were, sitting with the man you’d fawned over for years, eating soup and making pleasant conversation. That was when he finally asked you the question you’d always longed to hear.

“Y/n. I may not be exactly what you’re looking for but I know that I enjoy your company and I think you enjoy mine. I was hoping that you would join me for a proper dinner once I’m well again.”

- The excitement with which you agreed assured him that you were genuinely interested in him. He smiled back at you and the two of you finished dinner before happily saying goodbye.

- He took you out a few days later. The two of you went to a nice family owned Italian restaurant which he may or may not have bought out for the night. Time flew by while you were with him and you felt disappointed when you had to finally call it a night. You obviously agreed when he asked if he’d be seeing you again sometime.

- You had your first kiss a week into your relationship. The two of you had been sat in his backyard when you went in to get the two of you drinks. When you returned and handed him a cup, he gently took your hand and pulled you towards him, pressing his lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss and pecked his lips after you both pulled away from each other.

- You may not have the most conventional relationship but it’s safe to say that you’re truly happy together.

- He tends to save his affection for when your alone, deeming it only proper to refrain from such things in public. He does lighten up over the years as pda grows more and more acceptable.

- Getting to hear the different stories from his youth, the things he liked to do, the music he listened to, etc. You think it’s sweet to watch and listen to him reminisce, not to mention interested.

- Fresh flowers on your bedside every morning.

- This man smells so good all of the time. You don’t know what it is but you love it.

- Hand kisses.

- Getting coffee together.

- He likes to rest his hand on your knee whenever you’re sitting beside him.

- Relaxing in his backyard with him. He’s quite fond of the sun and sitting in it with you is one of his favorite pastimes.

- Wine is practically a staple in your lives. Wine-tasting dates, wine with your meals, wine as decoration; the fermented fruit is relentless.

- You’re constantly plucking cat hair from his clothes.

- Stroking/rubbing each others backs when you’re standing beside one another.

- He’s grown fond of brushing your hair for you; there’s just something so soothing about it. It also allows him to have an extra quiet moment with you which is mainly what he enjoys about it.

- Lots of pecks on the lips.

- Sitting on his lap or on the arm of his chair.

- Gardening together. You have matching sunhats and gloves.

- Making notes for him and helping to arrange his calendar. You’ll occasionally have to remind him that he has to meet with someone or go to some party.

- Even so, he tries to keep you out of as much of the family business as possible, not wanting you to be put in danger or get scared off.

- You’re going to have to keep track of a lot of names and faces. Between his friends, coworkers, and family; there’s enough people to fill an entire town.

- He’s a busy man so there’s going to be days where you hardly see him. He likes hearing that you missed him, it warms his heart even though he doesn’t like the idea of you being less than happy.

- You’re always amazed by how people act with him and just how much he controls the city. For someone who acts so kind and humble, its hard to imagine him doing some of the things you’re told he’s done.

- He tends to just smile and brush off all your compliments. Anytime you mention his appearance, he’ll joke about being “just an old man” and telling you that he should be the one giving compliments.

- Since he’s older than you by quite a few years, he’s more insecure and prone to getting jealous than his younger counterpart or if you were his age. You’re a beautiful young girl with the world at your fingertips, what are you doing with him? You may like older men but wouldn’t you like someone closer to your age?

- Whenever he’s feeling that way, he’ll keep it to himself, not wanting to betray his usual professional demeanor. When you’re finally alone together, you can always tell that something’s wrong and will assure him that you love him very much which always seems to fix things.

- He’s not a huge cuddler but he does enjoy having you close beside him. When you do cuddle you’ll usually just lay your head on his shoulder or chest while he wraps his arms around you.

- Sicilian pet names. He’s also quite fond of “angel” and nicknames that mean something to the both of you.

- Your safety is one of the most important things to him so he wants you to tell him whenever something happens or if you have a sick feeling about something. He has bodyguards for you on call at all times.

- He can’t help but love when you worry for him; it’s just a reminder that you truly love him.

- Catching him watching you a lot. Whenever you ask “what”, he wraps his arms around you and asks how he got so lucky.

- Quiet days spent by each other’s side.

- Have you ever been to Italy? No? Well that just won’t do! He’d insist on bringing you one day and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

- You get spoiled even though you constantly tell him that he really doesn’t have to which only makes him want to spoil you more. It’s not that you don’t appreciate it all, you just don’t want him to think you’re only in it for the money though you assume he’s a good enough people reader to see that for himself.

- He always makes sure that you feel valued and important, not just some woman he keeps around to act as a pretty face.

- Vito cherishes companionship; he doesn’t enjoy being alone. It doesn’t matter what you do so long as you do it together.

- He likes to eat with you as much as he can. Having dinner together is commonplace in your relationship.

- Big family get-together’s.

- It’s going to take a little while for his children to warm up to you for obvious reasons. Just stick it out; once they see how much you genuinely care for him, they’ll welcome you with open arms and give their blessings.

- Comforting hugs during rough times.

- The two of you never fight. Vito; in general, does not lose his temper very often, he prides himself on that. If there’s an issue, you’ll resolve it like adults through an actual conversation or it will stay unresolved. He doesn’t have time for childish behavior so if you want to quarrel, take it somewhere else.

- He tells you he loves you often. It’s important to him that you know he does and that you feel like he does.

- Once again; Vito is a very traditional man so marriage is a must. He’ll most likely propose to you after a year or so of dating.

#the godfather imagines #the godfather headcanon #the godfather headcanons #the godfather imagine #70s movie imagine #70s movie headcanon #70s movie headcanons #70s movie imagines #Vito corleone imagine #Vito corleone headcanons #Vito corleone headcanon

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ladyideal · 3 years

Text

Ficmas~ Day 15

Pairing: Jim Kirk x Gender Neutral!reader

Word Count: 1123

Warnings: Minor injury

Summary: Your first snow day with Jimmy.

Requested by: @also-fangirlinsweden

A/n: Very behind and I think I'm sick of listening to Christmas songs even though it's mid November of writing this.

"Jay, are you sure we don't need groceries?" You called from the doorway, dropping the car keys to the side.

"Yeah, we'll be fine," Your boyfriend replied, frowning down at the PADD.

"Well okay then," You shrugged, unraveling the scarf, shrugging out of the jacket, and dusting the snow off. "It's Christmas Day, and nothing's gonna be open but some Asian restaurants, 7-11, and the ED."

"I'll stay good this year, okay?" He kissed the tip of your nose. "Nothing like last year."

"Starfleet still bugging you?" You asked, plopping down onto the couch beside him. "It's Christmas Day. They can leave it for tomorrow."

"They're just updating us on how the new shop is going, but," He closed his PADD. "You're right. I've got brunch ready."

You brightened up at the mention of food.

"Pancakes, some fruit, and eggnog. Oh, and the gingerbread cookies are still in the oven."

"Now we're talking," You grinned, dancing out of the seat and towards the bedroom to change out of the outerwear.

"Man, I've missed this so much. Replicators can't do justice," You nearly moaned at how delightful the fluffy pancakes were. "Not even the one in your room can beat this."

"Your recipe is the best," Jim spoke around his food. "When we retire from Starfleet, we're opening our own restaurant. Name it Captain Pancakes."

You choked on your bite, and had to have your boyfriend thump you on your back a couple times. "Careful there."

"I miss this domesticity," You spoke, chasing away the brunch with a cup of orange juice. "Hasn't felt something like home in a long time."

"What do you mean?" He leaned across the counter, grabbing the carton of freshly washed strawberries and blueberries.

"My family and I don't get along well," You mumbled. "Stopped talking ever since I applied for the academy. Mom pops in once in a while, but it's never long, just short and choppy. I guess everyone else just forgot I existed."

"That's not right," He frowned but didn't probe any further. "But now you have a new family. Me and the whole Enterprise crew."

"God, you're such a sap, James. Don't let Bones hear you saying that."

"We've got a lot of snow overnight," The blonde spoke as he washed and you dried the plates. "Think we have enough to make a snowmen though?"

"Totally!" You brightened up. "There are some carrots left in the fridge, could just use the stones from the garden for eyes and buttons, sacrifice a broom and a beanie."

"About the broom…"

"James Tiberious Kirk, what the hell did you do to my good broom?!"

Once outside in a jacket and a pair of gloves, Jim started forming the lowest ball of snow.

"It's so beautiful and calm after that blizzard storm last night," You spoke, taking in the serene blanket of white as you crouched down, packing the snow in.

"Warming up to it yet?" He teased, straightening up to roll the now large ball of snow to the side of the house.

"Noooo," You dramatically responded, working on the middle part. "Shoveling snow from the driveway itself takes so long, starting the car early, and having to dig out snow chains for the tires. Never had to do it down south."

"It's always hot down there. Plus, you'll stay looking younger in the cold," Jim looked smug, kissing your nose when you steadied the half way done figure.

"I'm not breaking my bones on ice thank you very much," You drew out a couple black stones from a pouch, and pushed them deep into the highest snowball.

"Don't jinx it. Quick go knock on wood."

As you watched your Captain disappear from your line of sight, you pushed in the last of the buttons and the carrot nose, snugly placed the beanie hat on top, and frowned at the tennis racket in hand.

Oh well. It'll make do.

Bam!

Immediately you turned around, feeling the weight of the snow hit you from the side. Jim stood there, a shit eating grin on his face and a snowball in a hand.

"Do NOT throw that or else?" You warned, reaching down to grab your own handful of snow.

"Or else what, babe?" He spoke, challenging you with that knowing look that drove you insane at times.

"If you throw that snowball, you're declaring war, Captain," You particularly emphasized his rank. "And I play to win."

Jim faltered for a second before he recovered. "You want to play rough, don't you Lieutenant? I'll show you that I haven't lost to-."

Bam!

Snow covered his chest as your snowball interrupted his words, surprise on his face.

"Care to have a dance with me?"

And with a wordless growl, you found yourself enjoying what winter had to offer. Love, a boyfriend, a family, and some fun. As the white powder stuck to your hair and clothes, the winter wind nipped at your cheeks.

"Jay, you alright?" You paused, placing your snowball down when your boyfriend didn't get back up from a tumble.

"Yeah, no. I don't know. My wrist hurts a lot," He gritted, carefully sitting back up.

You crouched down beside him, gently taking in the injury for yourself. "Does it hurt more than a sprain?"

"Yeah, a lot."

You brushed the snow off your face and stood up. "Okay. Get into the car and stay put. Let me grab my car keys, comm, and a wallet. We're going to the hospital, since not even a clinic is open and we don't have enough supplies."

Quickly grabbing the essentials, you started the car and made your way towards the nearest hospital.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I should've been more careful."

"Jay, you're just a walking trouble. I swear that Bones have told me that you've broken at least most of your bones from all those away missions you've been on." You shook your head. "Speaking of him, call him for me?"

He looked suspiciously at you, but did as though. On the fourth ring, did the doctor finally pick up. "McCoy here. Jim, it's Christmas. I specifically said not to-."

"Hi Leonard, Jim's holding the comm for me as I drive. Sorry for disturbing your Christmas also. Merry Christmas by the way."

"What did he do now?" He groaned loudly before grumbling wordlessly.

"Jim here is in a pickle right now. We think he broke his wrist by throwing snowballs at me."

"Oh no."

"For God's sake man, it's Christmas Day. What the hell?'

As you half listened to Leonard lecture his best friend, you realized that your boyfriend was right. You had a family once more.

Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul

With a corncob pipe and a button nose

And two eyes made out of coal

Eats Everything: @asraime @aspiring-ginger @bluesclues-1234 @groovyfluxie @also-fangirlinsweden @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @keijibum @mournthewicked @mayday1284 @mysoulshideaway @fandom-imagination-ss @sayanythingcreations @supergeekfangirl @your-sparklywinnercollection

Trekkies: @marvelouslytrekking @lykxzandlove @piccolaromana @strange-old-worlds @april-showers-and-flowers @mrs-l-mccoy @scraftskhu35 @worm-cant-read @fandomismymiddlename @childofthecornflakes @yueci @lgbtqcontinuum @dartheldur @goddess-of-many-fandoms @writerdee1701 @crackheadcastdirector @readingtrek

#james kirk #james t kirk #jim kirk #captain kirk #jim kirk x reader #2009 star trek #star trek into darkness #star trek beyond #x reader #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral #star trek #star trek aos #star trek fic #31 days of ficmas #ficmas2020 #deb writes

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uwua3 · 4 years

Note

helloo! i was lurking through ur blog and ur writing is so good??? ur angst fic for tsumu was so painful and now i'm 😭😭 so can i pls request for hcs for tsumugi with an affectionate s/o? thank youuu 😭😭😭💖

i promise you i have 5 drafts right now but the moment i thought about this prompt, it wouldn’t leave my mind and i knew i had to write it! also, i’m so happy you liked my tsumu angst 🥺 it’s my least popular writing so i didn’t know if it was just awfully written or T___T but yes! angel deserves love ♡

summary: when all else failed, flower language was there to win over your crush

author’s note: this might be a bit different from what you were expecting, anon! the affection so much isn’t... obvious? well, you’ll have to read it and tell me if you think flower language is affection ♡

i absolutely adore flowers, so i was so thankful to put this romantic knowledge to use! if you are looking to be timeless, woo your crush with flowers please~

word count: 2,992

music: dream – suzy & baekhyun, love is the way – red velvet

yellow tulips means there’s sunshine in your smile.

❄️📚 tsukioka tsumugi

tsumugi loved flowers

it all started when he worked as a florist. the store was the same as always, even after he came back. it was overgrown, with decades of flora & fauna taking over the storefront as there wasn’t a single dead leaf in sight. greenery gave the usual urban, grey road life as the sunshine felt warmer in the makeshift forest. displays of annual flowers made tsumugi smell the roses, and he came by daily ever since he was a teenager

tsumugi liked to check out the produce and greet his favorite little old lady nicknamed “ma” that ran the small store. she always coddled him, pinching his cheeks and affectionately saying he grew up handsome as he blushed under the praise. she liked retelling stories she remembered of his young self working in her shop, laughing at his low stamina but unbreakable will

she reminded him of his own grandmother, and often arrived after work with new flowers he had harvested from the mankai courtyard to impress her

it was a particularly lucky day. one of tsumugi’s blooms came earlier than expected, and the moment he noticed it whilst gardening and whistling a tune, he took one as he left the dorms in his gear. when tsumugi arrived nearly out of breath for attempting to run the entire length, he was about to call the grandmother’s name but noticed someone else was tending the plants

(strange, ma never needed help, tsumugi thought before he glanced at your smile and was blinded. you were the sun)

when you bloomed into his life like the most beautiful flower, tsumugi swore he nearly dropped his pot when he saw you the first time. you saw him in gardening overalls stained by dirt and his rural appearance, and he admired you like you were at full bloom

tsumugi wasn’t good with words, in fact, he couldn’t even speak when he saw you. he just nodded quickly, gesturing to the random new arrivals he was pretending to be interested in. as you went further into the store, tsumugi sighed and could feel the vines within his lungs crawl and tighten around his chest

he wanted to talk to you, but he was afraid you’d be a cherry blossom that lasted for two weeks before fluttering away

so tsumugi approached you the only way he knew how: with flowers

it was your first week working as ma’s apprentince florist, but you had found a minature flower bouquet by your door. it was tarragon, a herb with tiny green & yellow flowers, gently wrapped with a delicate pastel yellow ribbon

tarragon: lasting interest

when ma came upon the boquet, she smiled knowingly, as if she had some dirt on the secret giver. however, you couldn’t get ma to budge (that woman was incredibly stubborn and had seen too many things to yield to a young adult!)

you decided to keep the herbs, pressing the flowers so they’d dry and twirled the ribbon around your finger as the empty lackluster hours expectedly came and went throughout the day. you wondered if the person who brought you such a beautiful present knew of flower language?

tsumugi did

tsumugi was a hopeless romantic at heart despite living in a world of fleeting love. he remembered learning flower language for situations like this, though, this was the first time he ever had to (or wanted to) use it

he still came to the shop every other day to be the victim of ma’s endless teasing, her short frame not stopping her from jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. but this time, with a knowing smile. nothing ever escaped ma, she was too observant for her own good

(tsumugi was the only person she knew who tied his ribbons that way)

(she only knew because every mother’s day, tsumugi liked giving her the best assortment of flowers she had ever seen ever since he worked for her)

as the days went by, you had begun to notice the quiet, timid boy with the shyest smile and brightest eyes always standing near the front in the sun as you hid away inside wherever the fan was

(perhaps you regretted that, when you heard his gentle laugh twinkle across the shop like wind chimes, you thought of tarragon)

one day, when you decided to look up after intensely reading a library book on botany behind the register, you saw him immediately avert his eyes and awkwardly laugh at something ma said. she glanced back at you, gesturing you over with a flick of her hand. you didn’t even bother arguing against it, closing your book and heading out front

(no one fought ma and won)

“this is my newest employee, tsumugi! they’re such a green thumb, it’s like they bring my flowers back to life.” ma bragged, laying a hand on your arm and pushing you forward so you were even closer to the boy you’ve been noticing out of the corner of your eye. he couldn’t look you in the eye, he was staring at everything but your eyes

(tsumugi couldn’t look at you because you shined so bright, he almost had to cover his eyes)

you introduced yourself properly, and as tsumugi finally tore his sight away from the new red roses in season, his eyes widened at something around your neck. you subconsciously lifted your hand to it and—oh

it was the yellow ribbon you had been gifted last week

ma grinned, feigning shock at your new acessory around the collar of your uniform. “my dear, i never noticed such a pretty little thing! haven’t you been wearing it everyday?” ma pretended to reach out for it but you leaned back, protectively putting your hand over the bow

(for some reason, you had become oddly attached to the ribbon)

“i... i have. just thought it was lovely, that’s all.” you justified, seeing tsumugi’s shoulders drop when he exhaled with... relief? tsumugi complimented the shade of yellow, saying it often fit the summer season and compared it to a dahlia

so, when it was the next day and you saw ma waiting for you with another knowing smile and a single yellow dahlia in her hands, you remembered tsumugi

the dahlia was pastel yellow, just like the ribbon you had on today. when you took it, you turned it over and watched the petals rustle in the summer wind

dahlia (single): good taste

“you know who it is, don’t you?” you interrogated ma, holding the dahlia close to your chest. it was clearly grown with care, in fact, it almost saddened you to see such a beautiful flower given to you when it could’ve kept on growing

ma just shrugged, doing her morning round of watering as she slipped on her gloves and got to work. you were about to do the same before something caught your eye

blue salvias

you didn’t even need to ask ma before she passed you a pen and floral tag you could attach

you bundled up blue salvias, tying a navy blue ribbon (you thought of tsumugi’s eyes and hair that glistened in the sunlight) with a note attached

“thank you, may all your flowers bloom during this summer season!”

you finished it off by signing your name, and left it in ma’s very capable hands. she complimented your ribbon choice with a snicker, but you didn’t question it. ma knew way too much neighbourhood gossip from being the local cupid with her flowers

(you were out back on break, taking notes from a herbs textbook you borrowed. while you were dutifully learning, you never noticed ma pass tsumugi a bouquet of blue salvias and his shocked, flustered blush as he accepted the flowers graciously)

blue salvias: i think of you

(“next time, my boy, just give the flowers to me. you’re much too obvious for your own good.” ma patted tsumugi’s cheek with her wrinkled hand, an aged look to her as if she knew it all)

(when tsumugi went home, he tied the dark blue ribbon around his watering can and put the salvias in a vase)

it didn’t take long before ma whacked a bouquet of flowers over your head, reprimanding you for slouching while reading

you took the gift, noticing a note but before you could read, you smelled the white camelias. but when you realized what it meant, you turned as red as the carnations beside you

white camelias: you’re adorable

“if only you were the sun, then all my flowers would be happy. though, they could never be as bright as you.”

as you unlooped the white ribbon this time, you put aside the note as you tied the ribbon around your neck. now, you had two equally cute ribbons that had you thinking of this secret admirer all day

as the fan blew towards you, the note floated to the floor as you leaned down from your stool to catch it mid–air. you checked the back of the tag, there was a name you would’ve missed: tulip

did they want you to address them as tulip? without a second thought, you had an assortment of red carnations held by a red ribbon and another note

“tulip? why is that?”

(you signed the back with “sunflower”)

red carnations: alas for my poor heart

next day, you received a dwarf sunflower with a bright yellow ribbon and a note you held closest to your heart

“perhaps, i just wanted to make you smile. — forever thinking of you, too, tulip”

dwarf sunflower: adoration

for the next month, you slowly forgot about the shy boy with the blue. tsumugi stopped by less, or at least he came during your break time. you wondered why, since he refused to look into your eyes and hid his face during the rare chances you did get to see him

(tsumugi always gave ma the flowers when it was break, he didn’t want you to find out)

you and your secret admirer kept exchanging flowers like it was mail. by this time, you had so many ribbons and you always received questions on why you wore them all

(“no reason.” you’d lie, and gently ran your fingers over the thread)

(tsumugi began tying the ribbons you gifted him everywhere just so he’d remember you. sometimes even around his pinky when he wanted to feel connected to you like soulmates would. he’d lay his head on his desk, pretending he was pulling on your string of fate and watched the ribbon flow elegantly around his hand with a small smile)

you had grown fond of tulip. his handwriting was delicate and light, you could tell he didn’t push down hard on his pen even when he doodled the flowers he was giving you that day. he had such a unique style, it was comforting to write to someone so genuinely kind and pure–hearted

although your affections to tulip were unparalleled, you often smelled the flowers he gave you and stared out at the horizon, wondering who this person was. you wanted a real name to connect to a face

(maybe, you were scared that whatever you were feeling was too much for a nameless unknown)

you knew it might have been too soon to demand answers, but your actions were readily supported by ma as she took the bouquet without letting you think it over

a purple bittersweet, also known as nightshade, with a deep violet ribbon and short note this time

“i must ask you, tulip, is it truly too much trouble for you to share your name? — best, sunflower”

(when tsumugi received these flowers with an impatient look from ma, he faltered, looking into the store but seeing you were no where in sight. ma jabbed him again, frustrated with his fear. “tell her!” ma insisted, but tsumugi shook his head and left)

(ma sighed, rubbing her temples as she shut her eyes. “kids, these days.”)

bittersweet: truth

“i am afraid, once you know the real me, you won’t want me anymore. i know it is selfish of me, but i just want to have you, just for a little longer. — always yours, tulip”

you read the next day and twirled the red columbine with a sigh. maybe you were afraid, this love would only bloom in the summer and tulip thought the same thing

red columbine: anxious, trembling

(you didn’t respond for a few days. you couldn’t, you were just as scared of what you felt for them)

you had started your day off bright and early, arriving at the local library to continue your research into flower language. you had chosen a book after becoming interested by its familiar drawings on the cover and took it to the shop, waving to ma as you rested in the back moss garden

you wanted to find the perfect flower to comfort tulip. even though your curiousity was overwhelming, you couldn’t help but understand where they were coming from. the relationship you guys had built was so nice, it would be a shame to question it

you turned the page but furrowed your eyebrows, automatically opening to a bookmark. it was custom, with dried flowers and a ribbon at the end through a hole. you noticed two initials at the bottom in light handwriting

T.T.

you were about to take it out to return it before the wind made you lose your place, going to the back of the book where the card pocket was. you put the bookmark at the back and found the letters aligned to a name that borrowed the book most recently

T.T. tsukioka tsumugi

tsumugi... that must’ve been the full name of the blue boy who came by so much. then, you noticed it

the handwriting was familiar, for a good reason. tsumugi crossed his t’s the same way as tulip, the ends of the t’s were curved in a similar fashion, too

you remembered the first time you met tsumugi

(“yellow, like a dahlia.” tsumugi hummed, reaching out to fix the way it was uneven. he almost didn’t notice it, until he looked up at your eyes. he moved back, made some excuse of how busy he was, and disappeared)

(you had touched the ribbon, wondering why you didn’t stop him)

you quickly moved to the front desk, shuffling through the countless stacks of paper and decorations until you reached the drawer where you kept all the notes. you took a random sample, realizing it was one of the more recent ones before you had asked their name

it had been stained with dirt. they must’ve wrote it in a hurry, like they just had to say it

“would it be too soon to say i want to see you, even though i know i can’t? — i miss you, tulip”

(you remembered this. pink camellia, pastel pink ribbon)

pink camellia: longing for you

you put the scrap of paper side by side with tsumugi’s name, tracing the letters with a shaky hand. how had you not realized it, was the boy you had become fascinated with the one you actually liked? sure, you thought the silent affection for the client was temporary, like a cherry blossom

turns out, he had survived the summer and would stay with you even until winter

was tsumugi tulip?

you had closed the book, attempting to process the revelation. all those things you said, all the secrets you exposed to the world, and he felt the same. sure, it was silly to think you could fall in love with the way someone wrote

but then, you thought about when you saw him the first time under the sun. he was glittering and sparkling like a streaming river, blue and beautiful. you wanted to see tsumugi again, you had to know

you didn’t usually send bouquets first, so when you handed one to ma, her face hardened and she seemed to know

“you know who it is, now? are you ready?” ma asked, placing the flowers down to envelop you in a motherly hug. you hugged back, nodding with resolve as you placed your chin on her head

“i... i need to know,” you chose your words carefully, but you glanced up and saw all the floral ornaments you had made from their gifts. their sweet, well–meaning flowers that brightened your day. then, your gaze fell upon the red columbine

“i need to know if this is real love.” you finished, ma patting you on your back comfortingly as she listened

“he loves you, little sprout.” ma simply said, but it meant everything when you waited until the next day with the flowers yourself

it was your break time. tsumugi came in with a bouquet just like you, but his steps stuttered when he saw you standing out front with flowers at your chest

you looked at him and softly smiled, the admiration and affection you had for a mysterious boy flourishing out of you. you took a small step forward, but tsumugi took two steps back. he hid the flowers behind his back

tsumugi was about to apologize, beg for your forgiveness before you smiled, your neck decorated with the tens of ribbons he had gifted you

“i love you, tulip.” you confessed, needing no note to hide behind when you held the bouquet out to tsumugi

red tulips, red ribbon

red tulips: passion, a declaration of love

tsumugi took a moment to admire you, the way you stood tall just like a sunflower. maybe it was too fast and he was being impulsive, but he felt it. he felt love, he wanted you to feel it, too

tsumugi offered you a bouquet in return as you laughed at the situation, pulling him into a close hug and taking in his warmth

yellow tulips, yellow ribbon

yellow tulips: there is sunshine in your smile

“i love you, too, sunflower.”

#tsukioka tsumugi #tsumugi tsukioka #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #tsumugi x reader #a3! tsumugi #a3 tsumugi

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twdormleaderswap · 4 years

Text

Visits from the Vice Dorm Leaders

Trey stood outside of the Pomefiore dorm. He wanted to check in on Riddle. Sure, he’s seen him around school, but not a lot. Plus a lot of Pomefiore students Rook drag him away during lunch, so Trey doesn’t get to see Riddle a lot. The Heartslabyul vice dorm leader heads inside. He was amazed with the dorm’s interior. There were pillars of marble, red carpets, velvet curtains, and pretty people everywhere. He stopped a passing student, Epel.

“Excuse me. Sorry, but can I get some help?”

“Oh, you are Heartslabyul’s vice dorm leader, right?”

“That’s right. Is Riddle here?”

“Yeah. Riddle-senpau is in his quarters. Follow me.”

Epel led Trey through the dorm. The dorm leader’s quarters was sealed by a large, double door. This dorm did not hold back on anything. The student knocked on the door. A voice could be heard from the other side.

“What is it?”

“There is some here to see you, Riddle-senpai.”

“Send them in.”

The door opened and the student let Trey into the room before closing the door behind him. In the room, Riddle was sitting at the vanity and practicing makeup. He turned to look at who came for him.

“Trey…”

“Hey, Riddle. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to talk with you regarding Heartslabyul, but Rook-senpai keeps dragging me away to eat with the others.”

“Haha. Wow, you got a serious glow up since being here.”

“Huh?”

“Literally. Your skin is glowing.”

“Oh, that’s the highlighter. Vil’s special highlighter is very bright and luminescent. Shine a light on me and I’m pretty sure my skin will become as bright as these chandeliers.” Then Riddle repeated Trey’s words in his head. “Wait, I know you weren’t just talking about the highlighter when you said ‘glow up!’ What did you mean by that?”

“Nothing bad!” Trey held up his hands in defense.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruggie smiled and hummed a little tune as he walked down the pathway to Heartslabyul. He thought he’d pay a surprise visit to his lazy senpai. He heard a groan in a low voice and took that as a sign. He walked into the Rose Maze and saw Leona in a nice cape and squeezing out water from his hair. He, himself, was also soaking wet. Ruggie did not hold back his laughter.

“Pfft-aHAHAHA!!! What happened to you? Hahaha!” Ruggie held his stomach because he thought the view before him was so funny. Leona froze, knowing that laugh and voice all too well. He stood up and looked over at Ruggie.

“Shut it, Ruggie. It’s not funny.”

“It kind of is. Nope. Sorry. It’s REALLY funny.”

“Ugh, whatever.”

“So, what happened to you?”

“Cater Diamond happened.”

“Elaborate.”

“Apparently I broke one of the hundreds of rules of the dorm.”

“How does that relate to you being soaking wet?”

“Riddle’s magic was used to punish those who broke the dorm rules, but I can’t do it. So I gave Cater the hose to spray any rule breakers…including me…” That’s when Ruggie broke. He fell onto the ground on his back, laughing and clutching his stomach. Leona groaned, but he got an idea. He took his new cape and squeezed the water out of it over the laughing hyena.

“Haha-AGH! Hey!” Ruggie immediately stopped laughing and glared at Leona, who had a smug look on his face.

“You dare to laugh at me? I am not just the King of Beasts, I am the King of Hearts. Laugh any longer then…off with your head.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jade, along with Floyd, stood outside the dorm of Ignihyde. Floyd wanted to see Azul in his new natural habitat. The inside the dorm was just as dark and gloomy as the outside. There were torches lit with blue fire along the walls. Out of nowhere, Azul appears before the twins with a gentle smile.

“Welcome to Ignihyde, Jade. Floyd. I’m glad you could come visit.”

“Whoh!” Floyd jumps a little from the sudden appearance. “When did you start sneaking around like that?”

“I saw you two approach the dorm through the security cameras. Plus, we have an alarm for when someone enters the dorm area through the Ignihyde Mirror.” Jade chuckles.

“That’s very impressive. So, how are you doing here in the dorm of technology?”

“I’m doing just fine. Follow me. I’ll show you to our main research room.”

Azul smiles and leads the twins to the research room. Once there, the twins were in shock and awe. The room was black, but it was covered in lights, screens, and wires.

“This is where many experiments and research takes place. Once everyone saw you two on the cameras, they retreated to their rooms to do their research there.”

“Eh? Are we that scary?” Floyd asked.

“Perhaps, but everyone here is rather shy. Try not to take too much offense to it. With my reputation, everyone is still rather cautious of me.”

“I take it you haven’t made any deals here yet?”

“Unfortunately, no. No one has been courageous enough to ask for anything. They’re all content with their technology.”

As Jade and Azul talked about the dorm, Floyd wandered off to look at all the gadgets. He touched a button, and a bright blue screen projected up in front of him. He took off his glove, placed his finger on it and swiped it, a new screen showing up.

“Whoa! This is so cool! How did they do this?” Floyd’s amazement caught Azul’s and Jade’s attention. Azul walks over.

“Ah, that’s one of the earlier projects from several years ago. They combined the technology with image projection from classroom projectors and the touch sensitivity of our phones. With a little magic, the projections ‘corporeal’ of sorts.”

“Huh?” Floyd looked at Azul in confusion. “How does that even work?”

“The projectors are connected to the dorm’s computer system, so the projection will show a computer home screen. Using magic, the alumni were able to give the projection a physical form while maintaining it’s transparent look. Combining that with the touch screen technology has created a physical, transparent projection of sorts. When you touch the screen, the presence of your finger interrupts the flow of the photo and electric current, allowing you to swipe the screen like our phones.” Azul shows them how it works and reveals that you can use it with gloves. He turns back to the twins. “Of course, this is old technology now and is still being improved. At the moment, we’re trying to figure out how to compress it so it can be used mobile. So far, it’s only been uploaded to and tested on Idia’s tablet. The tenants believe that it might be compatible with the mobile phone soon.”

“…” Jade and Floyd look at him and are silent.

“What?” Azul looks at them in confusion. Floyd speaks for both him and Jade mostly him.

“You have become a huge nerd.”

“Wha-…hey!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lilia hummed and walked through the gardens of Scarabia. He stopped to watch a purple peacock walk by. He was amazed an animal could be such a vivid color. He followed it through the garden, only to be stopped by the dorm leader.

“Can you refrain from acting suspicious around the dorm?” Lilia looked up and smiled.

“Malleus! It’s been a while! How’s the new dorm treating you?”

“What are you doing here, Lilia?”

“Just came by for a visit! All of the vice dorm leaders are visiting our old leaders today. Since the switch, everything is crazy. But every dorm seems to be settling quite nicely with their new leaders. Kalim has really brightened up Diasomnia.”

“I see.”

“Nice outfit by the way. Love the gold on you. It’s a big contrast from your black, green, and silver.”

“It’s not bad. A little more revealing than I’d like, but it works for the heat.”

“So, how’s the dorm? I heard that it’s usually a party palace.”

“It’s alright, I guess. Everyone keeps their distance, so it’s not that much different from Diasomnia.”

“I think this is a good opportunity for you.”

“How is anything about this situation good?”

“You can learn to lighten up a bit. Form some bonds maybe or get other people to get to know you.”

“We’ll see about that. By the way, should you really be here with Kalim as Diasomnia’s dorm leader?”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Lilia smiled care freely. Knowing Kalim, Malleus sort of doubted that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Rook arrived at the drylands of Savanaclaw, he couldn’t imagine how Vil must be keeping up with his beauty and moisturized skin. He found Jack and got him to take him to “Vil’s” room. The room was very clean and organized. Vil was at the desk with a hand mirror and doing his makeup.

“Knock knock.” Rook said to get Vil’s attention. The dorm leader looked up and smiled. He got up and walked over to Rook.

“Rook, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were visiting? If I had known you’d be coming over, I would have made myself more presentable.”

“Fear not, fairest of them all, you are still beautiful. I’m impressed you’ve stayed so hydrated out here.”

“Well, thanks to that toner I got from Azul, my skin has remained moisturized and smooth. As for my hair, it’s a struggle to get it to remain silky and shiny.”

“You are amazing and beautiful as ever, Roi de Poison. Parfait.”

“Thank you. I try.”

“By the way, I LOVE the leather jacket. It suits you very well.”

“You think so? I’m rather thankful for the long sleeves, as it’s more fashionable. I am NOT wearing those vests. The long sleeves are a nightmare because of the heat, but I am not letting my arms tan from the sun. It’s hard enough avoiding it to prevent my face from tanning and aging.” Vil flips his hair and sighs.

“You know, you should try and put Epel in this getup.” Rook suggested, not being serious. Vil does and thinks about it.

“Well, he’s not exactly meant for this look. It would clash with his delicate beauty. But, if I can fill out this leather than so can he. I wonder if there are any spare uniforms around. I’ll have to ask Ruggie when he gets back.”

“Wait, what?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ortho entered the Mostro Lounge, knowing that his big brother would be there somewhere. He was guided to a seat and ordered a drink, since he can’t just wander around to look for his brother. When he ordered, he also requested to see his brother. The Octavinelle student nodded and went to get the new manager. Ortho happily looked around the lounge as he waited for his drink and brother to arrive. When his drink was placed in front of him, he looked up to see his big brother serving him.

“Hey, big brother!”

“Nice to see you again, Ortho.” Idia took a seat with Ortho so they can talk. “What are you doing here? I didn’t hear a thing about you coming over.”

“I just wanted to see you. It’s been a while since we could be together.”

“It has. Oh, how is your body? Do you need any updates? I can do them right now since you’re here.”

“I’m alright. Mr. Azul is a fast learner and has been giving me updates.”

“Wow…he’s really smart if he’s able to learn that quickly.”

“But I might need a new update since I haven’t had one in a while.”

“Alright. Finish up your drink and we can go.”

Ortho nods and happily spends some ore time with his brother. The two spent some time talking and catching up. Ortho shared what’s been happening at Ignihyde and how he is sort of like Azul’s mentor. Azul was a fast learner and picked up technological terminology in a heartbeat. Once Ortho finished his drink, the brothers got up and went to “Idia’s” room. He connected Ortho to his computer and began the upgrade. Once finished, the two stayed together some more.

“What’s going on with you and Ashengrotto?” Idia asked curiously.

“He’s great. He’s like an honorary big brother. Although, I’m getting a little concerned.”

“How so?”

“I feel like he’s looking into hacking because I saw him reading about it and asking other around about how to do it.”

“He’s…looking into hacking?” That concerned Idia a lot, and it seemed to be worrying Ortho as well.

“He said something about it helping him with future contracts. Something about gacha pulls.”

That’s when something clicked within Idia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jamil looked up at the castle that was Diasomnia’s dorm. He took a deep breath and entered the dorm. As he walked through the halls, he kept on getting stares from the tenants. After all, not many others have the courage to venture into Diasomnia for any reason or no reason at all. He found into Sebek and approached him.

“Excuse me.”

“Hm? Oh, you’re Jamil Viper from Scarabia. Are you here to see Kalim?”

“Yes. I am rather concerned about the situation and wish to check on Kalim.”

“You and me both.” Sebek sighs. “The only thing Silver is concerned with is how this all happened. Well, anyway, follow me. I’ll take you to him.”

“Thank you.”

It was a rather role reversal from the Entrance Ceremony, but Sebek wasn’t going to say anything. They traveled up many flights of stairs and to the tallest tower in the dorm. Sebek knocked on the door.

“Dorm Leader Kalim? It’s Sebek. There’s someone here to see you.”

“Come in!”

Sebek opened the door, letting Jamil in first. There, Kalim sitting at the desk and was struggling to do his homework. He looked up to see who was here and smiled brightly. She got up and ran over to the duo, immediately hugging Jamil.

“JAMIL!”

“WHOA! Do not jump at me so suddenly!”

“I missed you so much!”

“But we see each other at school and in class all the time.”

“It’s not the same! I don’t get to see you outside of school! I’m so lonely here! Sebek and Silver are so distant and Lilia is hardly around with me like you always were.”

“I am loyal to the Young Master. I’m not gonna coddle you.” Sebek interrupted.

“I just want company…” Kalim pouted. Jamil sighs, knowing fully well that Kalim’s clinginess is due to him babying him this whole time. Once this is all over, he’ll have to change that. “So, Jamil, what are you doing here? I didn’t here a word that you were coming.”

“The vice dorm leaders decided to check on our former leaders to see how they were doing.”

“Oh yeah? OH! You should come to the feast tonight!”

“What?” Jamil blanked. Did Kalim just say there was going to be a feast?

“I’ve invited the others to come too! We’ve got a big spread coming tonight!”

“What’s happening here?” Jamil looked over at Sebek, wanting an explanation.

“Dorm leader Kalim has been throwing parties rather frequently. Actually, he threw a feast the day he became our new dorm leader. It was really…interesting. But he single handedly got everyone to party in roughly 1 hour.” That was rather shocking to Jamil.

“Wait, did you say others were coming?”

“Yeah! I invited the other dorms! Ruggie is really excited and so is Vil-senpai!”

‘Probably only to get out of the drylands…’ Jamil thought to himself.

“Plus, I think this is a good chance to let others into Diasomnia and let them know that we aren’t so bad. It’s just because of the categorization of them being powerful and good at magic that make them scary. Everyone is really nice. A little distant, but they’re really nice. I wanted the other dorms to know that too!”

Jamil was rather impressed. Kalim was actually trying to close the distance between Diasomnia and the other dorms. Perhaps Kalim was smarter than he thought.

“Since you’re here, could you help me with my Alchemy homework?”

Or maybe not.

228 notes · View notes

agoodgoddamnshot · 4 years

Text

Little Things - Geralt/Jaskier

Gif isn’t mine

Originally posted on my AO3

He hears what people say about them. He knows what they must think. How in the names of all of the gods do they even work as a pair? They’re as different as day and night. And maybe at one point in his life, Jaskier would have agreed with them. In the first few months of knowing the Witcher, he experienced first-hand how shut-off Geralt could be with the world around him and those within it.

At some point, and he can’t pinpoint where, that shroud started to slip away. He saw how much Geralt could, and does, actually care. It’s as fierce as the way he fights.

They spend a great deal of time watching each other; when they finally fell into a bed together, they spent most of their nights learning what the other liked, mapping the plains of skin and muscle underneath the other.

But it’s the other things, the little things, that Jaskier thinks about the most.

Their journey to Kaer Morhen is going well. They’re making good time. Winter nips at their heels, and with no whispers from the south about Nilfgaardian movements, Jaskier can tell how anxious the Witcher must be about returning to a safe, neutral ground. Kaer Morhen, for all that he’s heard about it, will see them weather whatever casts itself over the Continent. For a time, anyway. Until they figure out what it is they need to do with their latest edition to their group.

“Jaskier!” Ciri’s voice carries through the air. Quick footsteps snapping twigs tell her where she is. She jogs back towards camp, breaking through the shrubs surrounding their camp. “Look what I found!”

The bard looks up, fingers stilling over lute strings. Their camp is nestled in a thick forest. The canopy overhead had given them enough shelter from the rain a few hours ago. Since it cleared, Geralt has been tending to a small fire and a cast-iron pot hoisted above it.

Ciri drops to the ground beside him, brushing a stray strand of golden hair out of her face. Bundled in a gloved hand are some flowers. Jaskier blinks. He recognises them. An approaching winter has caused the world around them to lose its colour. Everything he’s seen has been turned grey. Even the grass in the meadows is starting to wilt and wither away. But the flowers in Ciri’s hands, winter pansies, are so bright: purple, lilac, yellow. The inside of the petals are stained black, as if an inkwell as splattered.

Ciri watches him with a broad smile blushing her cheeks. “You told me that they were your favourite.”

“You were only a few summers old then,” Jaskier marvels quietly, tracing the rim of a petal with his finger. “How do you possibly remember that?”

“Because you visited the gardens every year when you came to visit,” she explains. “And you always asked the groundskeeper when these would blossom best.”

A lump tries to lodge in his throat. The girl is just so good. Something that he hasn’t seen in the world in a long time; at least, not tarnished. He knows what she’s been through. Or he has an inkling at the very least. He hears here some nights, crying into her pillow, or crawling into bed with them, shaking and trembling that something or someone might carry her away.

And yet, she remembers things like what flowers are his favourite. Jaskier swallows.

He isn’t going to cry.

He’s not going to cry in the middle of gods know where.

“Thank you, my darling,” he smiles, pressing a light kiss to the centre of her forehead. Ciri’s nose wrinkles. It always does whenever he kisses her. She tries to wriggle out of his hugs and pulls her hand away when he tries to hold it. It’s something she’s done since she was a child. Even all of these years later, his heart tightens when he sees a flash of that young girl in front of him, brief and fleeting like an afterimage.

“You’re welcome,” she smiles, standing up and wandering over to the fire to warm her hands. Jaskier’s eyes follow her until he spots Geralt sitting silently at the other side of the campfire, staring straight back at him with his head cocked slightly to the side. When their eyes meet, Geralt hums, and goes back to tending their dinner.

She needs to know how to fight. That’s one of the many, many, many reasons they’re going to Kaer Morhen in the first place. Who better to teach her these things than the wolf pack in the mountains?

They’re still half a day’s ride away from the keep, but the sun doesn’t stay perched in the sky long enough for them to make any great ground anymore. There’s a village that sits at the foot of the mountain; one that sees them sheltered for the night. Villagers here are just slimmer clones of Geralt, if Jaskier is being perfectly honest. None of them talk, moving around each other uttering noises instead of words. He doesn’t think they’ve actually made eye contact with him in the time since they got here.

While they still have a few hours left of sunlight, Geralt and Ciri use the livery’s yard as a makeshift training arena. In one of the last villages they walked through, Ciri was given new clothes and a wooden sword. She’s faring better with breeches, being able to walk and run without tripping on the edge of a dress. And the clothes they found her in weren’t going to keep her warm as soon as the winds turned cold.

As for the sword, she had been eyeing the two sheathed to Geralt’s back. And Geralt certainly wasn’t going to let her practise with an actual blade.

So that’s why he’s perched on the back step of the tavern, watching them do drills in the middle of a livery yard. He wraps his arms around himself. Despite the fur-line jacket around him, wind still nips at his skin. But he can’t bring himself to stand up and go inside.

Geralt keeps looking over to him. Probably wondering why the bard is outside watching them. Jaskier offers him a small smile whenever their eyes meet.

With learning how to fight, she’s learning that she’s going to get hit. He’s always known her to be her grandmother’s kin – a cub, yes, but a cub that will grow into a fierce lioness like the last queen of Cintra. During their drills, she’ll fall. She trips over her own feet, or her balance isn’t quite right. Sometimes, when she’s sparing some simple moves with Geralt, he’ll catch her legs and trip her.

With every thud, every plume of dust that billows up into the air, Jaskier sits up that bit straighter. She gets back up again. She always does: with a fierce frown etched into her face, sword raised high, trying to get back at the Witcher for not being fair.

The light is starting to fade when she gets knocked down again. Pushing herself off of the ground, she brushes her hair out of her face. No matter how many times she ties it up, it always ends up flying out of its tie and distracting her.

She pushes the hair away with a sharp huff – one that even Jaskier can hear a couple of feet away, with a breeze whistling through the yard.

Jaskier laughs, waving the girl over. “Come here,” he says lightly, “let’s sort this out.”

Ciri sits herself on the step below him, holding her head high and straight. “Could you braid it?” she asks. “It just keeps getting in my face.”

Jaskier cards his fingers through her hair, pulling it all back over her shoulders. He hums. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll just shave it all off.”

At that, she lets out a sound he can really only describe as a squawk. She spins around, staring up at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“He’s joking, Ciri,” Geralt says softly, bringing the girl’s wooden sword over to her. Geralt’s eyes flicker to him, an eyebrow beginning to arch. You are, aren’t you?

Jaskier laughs. “Of course I am,” he tells the both of them, nodding at Ciri to turn back around. “I’ll have you looking even more beautiful in no time at all.” Geralt steps away, fetching the girl’s coat from where she threw it once their drills started to warm her blood. Now that they’re done for the day, chill will set in. Geralt dusts the jacket off, laying it over her shoulders. Ciri smiles up at him.

It doesn’t take him long to weave her hair into a braid. Shorter, softer hairs still fray her hairline, but a bit of wax will keep them at bay. For now, though, the braid will do. “Not the neatest, but I’ll do it again for you in the morning before we head off.” Jaskier glances over to Geralt. “When will we be leaving?”

Geralt shrugs a shoulder. “If we leave at first light, we’ll be at the keep by midday.” He looks down at Ciri. “How does that sound?” Because of course Jaskier will be awake at that point. The Witcher he shares a bed with will make sure of it, even if it means dragging him out of it by his ankles. It’s Ciri who favours her sleep. But the girl nods firmly. They’re all keen to get to the keep – for the safety and security of having high, well-protected walls around them, but also for curiosity’s sake. No one outside of the guild has seen what Kaer Morhen even looks like from the outside, let alone the keep’s halls.

Ciri gets up first, tugging her coat tighter around herself. Jaskier follows. He doesn’t miss the way the joints in his knees and hips crack at the movement, or how his muscles just protest it, but he blames it on the cold.

Even with the fading light, he spots a smudge of dirt on the arch of the Witcher’s cheekbone. Reaching up, Jaskier dusts it away with his thumb. “I doubt there would be any use calling for a bath now, would there?”

Geralt hums. He leans into the touch. “Kaer Morhen was built on hot springs. The baths there are like pools, big enough for a lot of people.” Something flashes in the Witcher’s eyes. “We could take one together if you like.”

Heat flashes over Jaskier’s cheeks as a slow smile curls along his lip. “I’ll hold you to that.” He tilts his head up, catching Geralt’s lips in his own.

Ciri’s face scrunches up. “Gross.”

Kaer Morhen is both everything he expected it to be, and nothing like it at all.

True to his word, one of the first places Jaskier finds himself being brought to is the baths. They’re below the keep itself, and with every step he takes, following Geralt down spiral staircases, he can feel the air getting warmer and more humid.

When he finally sees the springs, he almost cries. Days-worth of dust and dirt and cold that’s buried in his very bones seem worth it, finally. The speed in which clothes are gotten out of and thrown on to a nearby bench should alarm him. But he’s gathered an armful of glass vials, with oils and soaps and lotions with dried flowers and herbs through them, and he will have the best bath he’s probably ever had in his life.

The instant that hot water kisses his skin, a shiver runs straight up his spine. Geralt wades into the deeper end of the spring, ducking his head under for a moment. It takes Jaskier a moment to plan out the bath – rock formations from the mountain leave little ledges around the rim, almost like benches. Some parts of the bath are deeper than the others. Jaskier sits on a ledge with his vials within arm’s reach. Once settled, Geralt wades back over to him, taking a seat just below him. Geralt leans back, pressing against Jaskier’s chest and settling with a soft sigh. Without thinking, the bard’s hands go to Geralt’s shoulders.

This isn’t a new or an odd thing. He washed the Witcher when he still insisted on keeping his veil of not caring about anything or anyone up. He washed the Witcher when that veil slipped away.

Gathering some oil in his palms, he sets them on Geralt’s shoulder. A silence falls over them; one that doesn’t need to be filled. Geralt’s eyes slip shut as fingers work away every string of tension in his muscles. Jaskier is just content to have his Witcher as pliant as he is underneath his hands.

Some part of him wants people to see this. He wants people to see the man they all fear so much, being soft clay underneath Jaskier’s ministrations. But then, the hackles rise at the thought of other eyes seeing this – something that is for them and them alone. He’d happily gouge out the eyes of anyone who would impose on this.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but the water doesn’t cool at all. Whatever water that sloshes out of the bath, or escapes outside into the cold, it’s replaced by the mountain. The hot spring smells faintly of sulphur, but it’s not unpleasant. Candles burning around the bathhouse mask most of the smell with dusk rose and something else he can’t quite put his finger on.

The comforting smell of chamomile lilts over the air as he works more oil into Geralt’s back and his chest. After a stretch of silence, Jaskier speaks. “Are you asleep?” he tilts his head. He can’t see the Witcher’s eyes, but he imagines that they’re closed.

A hum rumbles through Geralt. Sort of.

Jaskier stretches back for a different vial of oil; one that Geralt likes, but never actually admits it. It’s for his hair, keeping the already bright strands even brighter. He tries not to move too much. Geralt is reclining against him. And although the water laps gently at them, he doesn’t want it to bother the snoozing wolf too much.

When Geralt speaks again, his voice is quiet. “Why do you do this?”

A soft frown creases Jaskier’s forehead. “Because I want to,” Jaskier replies. He says it as though it were the simplest thing in the world. And to a point, he guesses that it is. He likes looking after Geralt – because gods know that Geralt certainly doesn’t look after himself. Although he doesn’t love Geralt coming back from a hunt bruised or cut or caked in mud or grime, he likes making sure that his Witcher is clean and safe and loved.

Geralt hums, mulling the response over in his head.

Eskel and Lambert take turns tutoring Ciri. Jaskier watches from the forge as the three of them dance in the main practise arena. Although it’s one of the warmer days, the winds are still unforgiving. The lit forge behind him keeps his back warm at the very least; and with one of Geralt’s cloaks around him, Jaskier isn’t too keen on moving from his post.

Ciri listens to the other two Witchers intently – even when they argue among themselves about how best to pirouette with a broadsword. Jaskier can see the faintest of smiles ghosting her lips when a brotherly argument goes a bit too far and both Witchers start squaring up to each other.

Before the first fist can swing, a sharp whinny sounds from the main gate. Jaskier’s ears twitch. He can tell who it is without even looking.

He woke up this morning to an empty bed. It’s not uncommon. Geralt is sometimes so restless that he can’t stay in one place for too long – in a warm bed with a warm body beside him included. But he never ventures far.

Jaskier stretched out his hand this morning and frowned when he felt cold sheets. The tell-tale scent of the Witcher was already starting to thin from his pillow.

Neither Eskel nor Lambert knew where he had gone. And Vesemir just offered a shrugged shoulder. “His horse is gone so he probably went out on a trail,” the elder Witcher grunted, going back to his sword and whetstone.

Geralt rides Roach over to the stables, hopping down and patting her neck. He says something to her, too quiet for Jaskier to hear. He’s quick to slip her saddle and bridle off and get her settled in her stall.

Ciri pays him no mind, using the opportunity of Eskel and Lambert arguing among themselves to practise her stances with her sword. Jaskier tugs his cloak tighter around himself, staving off a stray breeze. When Geralt wanders over, Jaskier sees that one of his hands is behind his back.

Jaskier narrows his eyes. “Where have you been?” he asks, shuffling over a bit so Geralt can take a seat next to him.

He doesn’t. Instead, Geralt looks down at his boots for a second. Wordlessly, he stretches out his hand.

Gathered in his fist, Jaskier blinks at the sight of flowers. Bright coloured flowers gathered in a piece of cloth. They look so small and dainty in comparison to Geralt’s hand. He recognises them instantly. Winter pansies; ones in a rich shade of royal purple, bright yellow, and one that is as white as snow.

Jaskier sits forward, mouth slightly agape. “I didn’t know that they grew this high up,” Jaskier says.

Geralt swallows. “They don’t.”

At that, Jaskier frowns. The trails around the mountain are bare, but he saw some flora growing on the roadside on their hike up. None of it looked as bright as what Geralt has grasped in his hands.

In fact, the last time he saw flowers blooming that bright was at the foot of the mountain.

No.

No, he didn’t—

“Did you...” Jaskier’s eyes flick between Geralt’s face and his hand. “Did you walk back down to the village, just to get flowers?”

Geralt presses his lips into a thin line. He nods.

“For me?”

Another nod.

Jaskier can feel his brain starting to shut down. “The village is half a day’s walk away,” he breathes.

“It didn’t take that long. I took Roach,” Geralt shrugs a shoulder.

“You took-” A laugh wrangles its way out of his throat. It’s ridiculous. It’s lovely and sweet and kind, but it’s ridiculous. He reaches out for the flowers. The cloth is mostly wrapped around their stems. The cut is clean enough that, if he put them into a vase of water, they’ll keep for a couple of days. It’ll be a splash of colour to a colourless winter. They have a faint perfume to them, but nothing too overpowering.

Jaskier pats the space next to him. “Come here, you oaf.”

Geralt wordlessly falls to Jaskier’s side. When he sits, the sides of their thighs press and warmth blooms through their skin. Jaskier lightly ghosts his finger over the flowers’ petals, marvelling at how bright and healthy they are despite winter rolling in. He nudges Geralt’s shoulder with his. “Why did you walk all the way back down the mountain to get me flowers?” he asks with a slight lilt to his voice.

He knows the answer. Well, he thinks he does. He just wants to hear Geralt say it.

The Witcher’s expression is utterly unreadable. He stares off in to some corner of the forge, his jaw working. “Because I wanted to,” he offers after a time.

The smile that spreads across Jaskier’s face couldn’t be gotten rid of even if he tried. He leans against Geralt’s side, pressing a kiss to the arch of his cheekbone. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you, love.”

Even though he knows he’ll blame it on the cold, Jaskier swears that he can see colour wash over Geralt’s cheeks.

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226 notes · View notes

angelicwasp · 4 years

Text

orchids

March 27th, 1956

After almost 10 days of non-stopping rain, Tuesday has finally let some, actually quite a bit, of sunshine through. The air smells of earth and grass, as do my husbands gardening gloves. Thank goodness the raining stopped, because I could not have kept Edwin away from his flowers another day. His orchids, to be exact. He has develped such love for these creatures that the way he takes care of them makes one’s heart bloom. The gentlest of hands touching and watering them with the utmost care.

A special place is reserved in his heart, and our garden, for the orchids Miss Carter gave him. They were, indeed, breathtaking. That is, they still are. They bloom like no other, smell like no other. Their big and healthy petals are of a creamy porcelain colour that envelops the pastel rose centre.

What got him onto the immaculate journey of gardening was a very fortunate accident. On August 15th. 1955, Mr. Stark celebrated his birthday in a rather, well, pompous manner. Of all the gifts he’d gotten, the one he knew least what to do with were the pots of orchids. Mr. Stark was to be in New York again the next day and could not take all of his presents along with himself, let alone open them all in the next 13 hours. Edwin told him to take the orchids along with him to New York, saying they would look charming next to the beige cellphone in living room number 3.

As per Mr. Starks usual nature, he slept in and had to leave in a frenzy, forgetting to take along the orchids that where still standing on the wooden desk next to the grammophone in the salon. Not knowing what to do, Edwin just let them be for the next 4 days, when they starting withering a tiny bit. Curiousity got the better of him and he took and glimpse inside of the old botanical books my mother got me on my 15th birthday. In the biggest one, one could see a bookmark peeking out at the middle part. He opened it right then and there and found himself infront of a 2 page long description on how to properly take care of lillies. The next 2 pages, being 43 and 44, were very descriptive on how to handle orchids. After 4 hours of careful perusal and not much sleep, Edwin awoke the next day with great excitement. It was now the 21st of August and he plunged into work rightaway. He was kneeling in the garden, on his right side my mothers book, on the other a gardening shovel. Edwin got to work pretty quickly and by afternoon, I still remember him calling me with great excitement, the orchids were carfully planted.

Mr. Stark arrived three weeks later, awaited by the most lovely and lively orchids he has ever seen. To say that he was astonished would be an understatement.

This very evening was also the one Miss Carter would come back to Los Angeles for the very first time after half a year. We awaited her with a great deal of enthusiasm, as did the orchids. After a wonderful night of laughter and Hungarian food, Miss Carter and I decided to go on a walk in our very garden. She noticed the orchids almost immediately and found them to be mesmerizing, her own words. I told her that Edwin had planted them, which simply added to her astonishment. That’s when she decided to gift him a pair of orchids on his birthday. Edwin was beyond happy.

I notice I lost myself in story-telling, but unfortunately I must stop here, since I can hear Miss Carter arriving. Edwin will be quite startled that she decided to get here without him driving her, but Miss Carter explicitly told me not to tell Edwin, because she wanted him to get back to his flowers after 10 days of rain. What a nice gesture. It seems like Miss Carter had the right instincts, because it looks like the clouds are preparing again for three days of rain. Oh, a droplet of rain. I hope Edwin won’t be too devastated, but at least he got a small amount of time with his flowers today.

Love, Ana.

#agent carter #jarvis #peggy carter #marvel #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #margaret elizabeth carter #ana jarvis #mcu #marvel fiction #mcu fanfiction #vision #the vision #howard stark #edwin jarvis

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Rags & Riches {14}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: A short, “farewell” chapter.

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

Feyre was dressed in white.

In town, Helion had already been working on a few wedding gowns. Feyre had gone first thing in the morning and chose one. By late afternoon, he showed up at the house with the alterations finished and invited himself to the wedding.

It was a simple gown, but it had a long train with lace and beading. The sleeves went just past her shoulders, and she had long, white gloves and a long, lace veil.

“You look lovely, dear,” Alis said, smiling in the mirror’s reflection behind the bride.

Feyre nodded. “Thank you, Alis.”

“Are you nervous?” she asked.

“Why?” Feyre scoffed. “Because I’m marrying a man I’ve known a month and he’s about to be shipped off to war? Hardly.”

Alis rolled her eyes, affectionately. “Well, let us not keep them waiting.”

There were hardly any people, Feyre knew, just a few from the village and Nesta, of course. There was no time to invite anyone else.

The sun was beginning to sink behind the trees that surrounded their land as Feyre walked with Alis to the front door.

“Okay, dear, I’ll be outside,” Alis said, then wrapped Feyre in a hug. “Your mother would think you look so beautiful.” She smiled. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She hurried outside, leaving Feyre alone.

Everyone was waiting, sitting around an arch in folding chairs they used for gatherings. Rhysand stood beneath it, alongside Mor.

He was smiling, gloriously.

After a deep breath, she opened the door and made her way into the fading sunlight. She carried a bouquet of flowers made from Elain’s garden, her own little way of having Elain there with her.

The little crowd stood as she approached, watching her as she walked through the middle of them to where Rhysand stood.

He held out his hand to her, which she gladly accepted.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered.

Feyre smiled, then they both turned to Mor. They had made Feyre promise not to ask what Mor had done to be ordained on such short notice.

So she didn’t ask.

Instead, she let her give a short, traditional speech before she asked them to repeat their vows, which they both did without hesitation.

And when Mor said that Rhysand could now kiss his bride, he grabbed her by the waist and kissed her harder than any gentleman should do a lady in public.

Their reception, although small, was elaborate. Alis and her men had done a magnificent job transforming the ballroom into something magical. Flowers were everywhere, silk streamers were tossed around, and a small band played in the corner. Everyone danced, and laughed, and it was perfect, in every way. To Feyre’s delight, because it was so small, those employed at the manor were able to enjoy themselves, as well. At one point, Cassian was twirling Alis around the dance floor as if they were the only ones there.

As they sat at a table at the head of the room, Rhysand could not stop watching her. “Do you know how badly I want to say to hell with all this and take you upstairs?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Control yourself, husband.”

Husband. Rhysand grinned. “I am not officially your husband until we consummate this marriage, Feyre, darling.”

Feyre laughed, and shook her head.

His fingers swept over the ring on her finger. “She would be pleased to know that you actually married me.”

Feyre’s smile softened. “Did she have doubts?”

Rhysand huffed a laugh. “She was very fond of you, that’s all.”

“And I of her,” Feyre promised, before kissing him on the cheek.

“Do you wish your sister were here?” he asked.

Feyre nodded. “Although, I’m certain Azriel must leave for Hybern, too, so it is better that they are together.”

Rhysand took her hand. “I agree, but as I will also be leaving, I must request to dance with my wife.”

Feyre lifted a brow. “I thought I was not your wife until we consummate it.”

Rhysand grinned. “Well, until then, I shall twirl you around this ballroom and show you off.”

She took his hand, and he did just that.

~~~~~

Elain read Feyre’s letter a second time and laughed.

“She married Rhysand today,” she said, shaking her head. “Feyre. Married. I almost cannot believe it.”

“Why?” Azriel laughed, tearing off a piece of bread and popping it into his mouth.

“She’s always been very independent,” Elain explained. “And a little rebellious.”

“Seems to run in the family.”

Elain snorted. “I am not rebellious, whatsoever.”

“Says the one that ran off with the butler and got pregnant with his child,” Azriel grinned.

Elain ripped off a piece of her bread and threw it at his head from where she sat by the fireplace.

Azriel laughed. “It was not a complaint. Just an observation.”

“Yes, well, this child of the butler inside of me made me vomit for the entire first half of the day, so…” Elain sighed. “This butler better be worth it.”

Azriel finished off his bread and leaned back against their makeshift bed. “I assure you he will be. I hear he loves you very much.”

Elain smiled, heart throbbing as she looked at Azriel, his chest bare, hands behind his head. “Good thing, because he’s stuck with me now.”

He watched her with such adoration that Elain set down the rest of her bread and laid down next to him. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Azriel shook his head. “I don’t think anyone can be ready for war.”

“I know,” Elain whispered, laying her cheek against his chest. “I am not ready for you to go, either.”

“Promise me that if it becomes too difficult, Elain, that you will go back to be with your sisters until I come back.”

Elain shook her head. “Azri-”

“Promise me,” he begged. “Please. You’ve never been alone before, Elain, and we’re in a new city, and you’re pregnant…”

She looked up at his face. His eyes were lined with tears.

“Okay,” Elain breathed, pressing her mouth to his chest. “I promise.”

“I am worried about you, to leave you,” he said. “And the baby.”

“We’ll be fine,” Elain assured him. “I know it.”

“I know it, too.” Azriel sighed, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and the tips of his fingers. “But, that does not mean that it will not kill me to be so far away from you both.”

Elain nodded. “Me too.”

“Just think how lovely it will be when you come back home,” Elain continued, brushing her thumb along his bottom lip. “And you will come back to me. To us.”

“Us,” Azriel repeated, and smiled. “Yes, I will.”

~~~~~

He was going to come to her room at midnight, but Nesta could not wait that long. Once the wedding guests left and Rhysand and Feyre disappeared, Nesta walked down to the stables, where Cassian had just finished picking up for the day.

He looked at her, surprised, when she entered. “A pleasure it is to see you, my Lady.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I prefer you use my name.”

Cassian laughed. “Is that so?”

Nesta shrugged. “Depends on the day. Today, I say it is okay.”

Cassian shook his head, smiling all the while. “Well, I’m happy to see you, anyway.”

“I thought we could go for one last ride,” she said. “If Marigold wishes to get out.”

“Marigold always wishes to get out,” Cassian assured her. He opened her gate and led her out before preparing her to be rid. “And where will we be riding to?”

“Wherever you take me,” she whispered.

Cassian smiled while placing a blanket on Marigold’s back, then the saddle. “Very well.”

A moment later, he was helping her onto the horse, then following her lead. He sat behind her, closer than ever before. His arms wrapped around her body, and he took the reins.

They rode through the pastures, down the line of trees until they reached the lake, where Cassian slowly took Marigold around it.

It did not seem long ago when Nesta and Cassian were together for the first time, right by the water. Then again, it seemed like an entirely different lifetime.

So much had changed since then, within the course of just a few weeks. And now, it was ending too soon.

Nesta fell back into Cassian’s chest as they rode. He kissed the side of her forehead, but remained quiet.

Neither of them said a word. There was no need to.

They took the time to breathe one another in, to be in each other’s presence before they would no longer have the opportunity.

And when they made it back to the stables, Cassian prepared Marigold to rest, then he walked with her to her rooms, where they wasted no time.

They made love and talked, all through the night.

Cassian told her of his family, of his childhood, of his hopes and his dreams.

Nesta told him of her mother, of her love for dancing, and for literature.

It was nearly sunrise when Cassian shook his head, his hazel eyes bright with something Nesta could not quite place.

“What?” Nesta whispered, pressing her mouth to the spot of his neck, just above his collarbone.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said, his words slow, but confident.

Nesta knew she was blushing when she said, “Do not say words you do not mean.”

“I mean every word,” he said, intertwining his fingers with hers. “I love you. I have no idea why, you are a massive pain in the ass, but I love you.”

Nesta laughed, quietly. After a moment, she cleared her throat, before kissing him softly, slowly. “Promise me that you’ll come back to me. Whenever you do, perhaps I will tell you how it is I feel about you.”

Cassian’s brows rose. “I must wait?”

“Yes,” Nesta smiled. “You must.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. Very well.”

“Promise me,” Nesta repeated. “That you will come back to me.”

“I promise,” Cassian said, holding onto her as if they were running out of time. “I promise.”

Nesta stood next to her sister mere hours later on the front steps.

Rhysand kissed his wife, and told that he loved her. Feyre said the same, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Cassian approached Nesta, wearing his old, loose trousers and button down shirt. His boots were worn, torn, but he approached Nesta in front of Feyre and Rhysand, anyway.

“I will see you soon, my Lady,” he said, bowing his head.

Nesta convinced herself not to cry as she took a step forward and pressed her lips, softly, against his. “Promise me, stableboy.”

Cassian’s eyes were so soft, so vulnerable, that Nesta nearly lost herself and wept.

“I promise, Nesta. I promise.”

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red@littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth @queenofillea1 @mynewdreamwasyou @levivlio @hellolenas @burritowithfeels @that-other-pineapple @girl-who-reads-the-books @raghad-50725@musicmaam @rowaelinforeverworld @negativenesta @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit@sannelovesreading @nerdperson524 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nerdperson524 @mariamuses @gorl-power @booklover242 @rowaelinforeverworld @regular-nessian-trash @izou1204 @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @opheliatheemerald @eversincebeirut @musicmaam @ladybookwrm @santas-dwynwen @starryandbooks

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #nessian #feysand #elriel #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction

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