#one of the trees is voiced with a terrible french accent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yee-fxcking-haw · 3 years

Text

•Soul On Fire•

Summary: Just cheesey porn with a dash of plot. Very mushy, very chick flick feeling. Hitoshi and reader try to decorate for Christmas but get distracted, Hitoshi has a BIG surprise for the reader.

Pairing: Pro Hero Hitoshi Shinsou x FemReader (both aged up)

Warnings: Oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, light spanking, lots of romantic feels, a sprinkle of praise kink.

Word Count: 3,307

A/N: This is DIRECTLY inspired by that one scene from Tom and Jerry that's going around tiktok when Tom tries to romance that pretty white cat. I wrote this after three cups of hot chocolate at 2 am entirely manic and full of gooey romcom feels.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"You're going to fall."

"I am not."

"Right on your ass."

"Toshi. Stop."

"You're totally gonna eat shit."

"Hitoshi!"

You're on the last step of the pitiful, three step ladder you borrowed from your neighbor, reaching with every inch you have left to place the star on top of the Christmas tree that's tucked into the corner of your living room.

Decorating is happening late this year… late being Christmas Eve. With you being a full time student, and Hitoshi being a full time hero, hanging tinsel and trinkets kind of ranked low on the priority list. This is your third Christmas together, but your first while living together after moving in this past spring. Toshi insists that the decorations aren’t necessary, but you want to have a tree up at the very least.

It’s nice to see him relax, though, so you’re okay with throwing a tree up with some lights and calling that Christmas. You both agreed to keep gifts minimal this year, trying to make it as easy going as possible, but a part of you does want to partake in some of the cutesy festivities, especially with him.

"You could always get off your ass and help me, oh great lanky one." You grumble, finally securing the star on the highest branch, pouting when it tilts over from the weight.

"Oh, of course, how insensitive of me." His voice is dripping with sarcasm as he lazily stands up from his spot on the couch. He gently sets his coffee cup down before sauntering over to you.

You don't like the look in his eyes, all lavender and mischief as his mouth twitches into a smirk.

"Don't." You say shortly, lifting on your toes so you can fuss at the lopsided star.

"Don't help? You're giving me mixed signals, love." His arms loop around your waist from behind. Even with your elevation, he's a decent amount taller.

Against your will, you melt into his arms. He nuzzles his face into your neck before blowing a fat, wet, raspberry against the skin. You reach for his hand and yelp when he hoists you into the air and off the ladder. You want to protest, but all you can do is giggle as your chest fills with fondness and warmth.

He falls back onto the couch with you, landing with a huff as he squeezes you against him.

"It looks marvelous, darling." He says in a mock trans-atlantic accent. He's learned that funny voices and terrible accents are the way to your heart.

"You're hopeless." You laugh as you squirm around a little so you can turn. Once he realizes you're trying to face him instead of escape, he loosens his arms enough for you to turn.

You place your knees on either side of his legs so you can straddle him as you tangle your fingers in his wild, violet waves.

"I very well may be, but whose fault is that?" He says with his velvety voice, leaning in to kiss your nose quickly.

"Did I mention cheesy?" You laugh, letting him shower your face in soft kisses.

"Oh, do you want cheesy?" He says, sitting up suddenly as he slides his hands to hold your back so he can lean you backwards slightly.

The sudden shift makes you cling to the front of his shirt as more laughter tumbles from your lips.

You look up into his enchanting eyes, the soft glow from the lights make them twinkle like brilliant gemstones.

"Oh, mademoiselle." He says in a terrible french accident.

"Oh no, Toshi, please don't." You protest between giggles.

He plants sloppy, dramatic kisses along your collar bones. As comical as they are, the feeling of his mouth on your body makes your skin run hot.

"Baby, I want to finish decorating for Christmas before it is Christmas." You breathe.

"Perhaps I can change your mind with a bit of… romance, my dear?" He wiggles his eyebrows as he continues with his dreadful accent.

You can't help but throw your head back and laugh into the air as he chuckles against your neck.

"That is so bad." You say with a playful slap to his chest.

He slides one hand up to cradle the back of your neck, keeping the other wrapped around your waist. He plants a kiss on each cheek in a melodramatic fashion.

"Oh how you set my soul on fire." He continues despite your criticism, his lips are relentless against your neck.

"Am I taking a break from decorating?" You ask, hands slipping to the back of his head so you can play with his hair.

"Please?" He drops the accent when he says it, eyes darting to yours in hopes you'll relent.

"Hmm… convince me." You say with a teasing grin, knowing he'll catch your implications immediately.

He doesn't waste one second before pressing his lips into yours. As always, you're filled with a wonderful, buzzing sensation as his mouth works against yours. Behind closed doors, Hitoshi is a hopeless romantic, all gentle touches and poetic confessions of love.

You break for just a moment, foreheads pressed together as you both drink in the dazzling atmosphere.

"You taste like coffee." You whisper, still grinning like a fool.

"Good thing you like coffee" He says, lips brushing yours slightly.

"I love it." What a pair of cheese balls you two are, but you wouldn't change it for the world.

"I love you." He breathes before kissing you again.

Slowly, he pulls you back up so you can straddle him again. Your lips move more boldly, hands grab with more urgency. You both take your time undressing each other, kissing newly exposed skin and whispering praises.

Soon he has you laid out on your back, panting beneath him as he slides his lips down your body. First between your breasts, them down your stomach until he's just below your belly button. He flips one leg over his shoulder as the other dangles over the side of the couch.

"Gorgeous, gorgeous girl." He muses, mostly to himself, as he grabs at your hip with one hand and the top of your thigh with the other.

The hand on your hip moves inwards towards your lower stomach, his touch is feathery and taunting. His eyes dance with mischief as his thumb traces lower.

"You're a tease." You sigh as you card your hands into his hair.

"You just lack patience." He whispers before pressing a wet kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"Relax, sweet girl. Let me have some fun."

His jaw drops and his tongue lolls out before he dips down to lick so slowly up your lips, he just barely flicks your clit with the tip of the muscle. Tease.

Your head flops back and you focus on relaxing the rest of your body like he taught you. Your eyes flutter shut when you feel his hand leave your hip, knowing exactly where it's going.

You feel two of his fingertips slide over the hood of your clit, pressing in gently before moving in lazy circles. The stimulation is so faint, just a hint of what he's capable of making you feel.

Then he moves lower.

Fingers slide down to gather the slick leaking from your aching hole, just to slide back up and start his lazy circles again. This time he gets right on your clit, pressing just slightly harder.

"Shit- Toshi, right there." Your voice breaks as your head shoots up, you shift up onto your elbows so you can watch him work.

The sight sends you reeling, sweat turning cold as you meet his lust blown, calculating eyes. Without looking away, he presses his mouth into the soft skin of your thigh again.

With a devilish look, his tongue pokes out so he can lick a long strip upwards while his fingers continue their teasing. Your walls flutter around nothing while he does this, your breath leaves you lungs in a shuddering sigh.

"Please, baby-" Anything else you might beg for is stolen from you as he slides his hand back down to your hole, only this time they press in with his middle and ring finger.

He twists his hand so his palm is facing the ceiling before he curls his fingers towards himself. The pads of them rub right along your sweet spot, your legs twitch as you sob gently, hands grasping at the couch beneath you.

"Please what?" He starts to pump his fingers in and out of you so damn slowly.

"Please, put your mouth on my pussy." You gasp as he pushes his fingers all the way in.

His eyes turn even darker before he bites the skin of your thigh where he was kissing.

"I love it when you talk like that." He mumbles before dipping his mouth down to tongue at your clit immediately.

You can't rip your eyes away from him while he licks at you. His fingers maintain their lazy pace as he flattens his tongue and moves it in slow up and down strokes.

All of you starts to wind up immediately, your walls tremble and pulse as your abs tighten and your breath hitches.

"Oh my god, Toshi." You whimper as the tension in your core builds.

He doesn't stop, he doesn't increase anything, he just keeps going.

The hand that isn't knuckles deep inside you reaches up to play with one of your nipples, tweaking and tugging. Your back arches at the added stimulation, small cries rip out of your throat when the fingers inside you crook just right.

You feel so hot, so full, so worked up. His tongue massages your sensitive bud as his fingers hit every single sweet spot inside you. You cry out and twitch as you finally fall over the edge. Falling doesn't seem right though, you don't feel any pull from gravity. You feel weightless, floating and flying through all of the sparks that twirl around you as you clamp down on his skilled fingers. He stays put between your legs, tongue and fingers guiding you through your climax.

“Perfect baby, that was perfect” His praise makes you dizzy, his fingers slow inside you before he pulls them out just so he can take them into his mouth with a sinful look in his eyes.

“-And so fucking sweet.” His eyes roll back as he licks his fingers clean.

“You’re incredible, Toshi.” You smooth some of the hair away from his forehead.

He scoots up to rest his chin on your stomach, he looks up at you with unusually bright eyes. It’s probably the warm wash of the christmas lights, but the bags that typically sit under his eyes almost look nonexistent.

“Get up here." You say with a weak voice.

"Yes ma'am." His voice is syrupy and enchanting, making you feel impossibly warm from the inside out.

He scoops you up into his arms with ease, settling you both back onto the couch so you can straddle him again. You feel him everywhere, in your chest, your bones, especially between your legs. Your hips grind down on him, hands needy and selfish as they find any skin they can.

“Wanna feel you, please, let me feel you.” His words all mush together a little, almost drunk sounding as his hips press up into yours, his heavy length stuck between your bodies.

You just nod and whimper against his neck when your head falls forward as you lift yourself up slightly, inviting him to shoot his hand down so he can line himself up at your entrance.

“So good, so fucking good.” He pants as you settle back down, taking him in easily as you do.

You don’t think the feeling of Hitoshi pressing into you like this will ever get old. It’s all so perfect, so quiet, so safe. Your nails dig into his pretty skin as you settle onto him completely, enraptured in the dull stretch he provides, mesmerized by his tip kissing your deepest sweet spot.

His arms snake around your waist, lifting your torso up just slightly. He holds you in place as he presses a kiss into your temple. Your hands find his hair again and you gather as much as you can. You both moan against each other when he rolls his hips up the first time.

“You’re so good for me, kitten, so damn tight.” He whispers before nipping your ear.

You can’t respond, you don’t even know how.

His hips keep rolling, then he's thrusting, then he’s fucking.

He keeps your torso locked against his as he snaps his hips up into yours, hot pants of breath fan against your neck as you whimper and tremble in his lap.

“You always like it when I get going, don’t you darlin’?” His voice rumbles against you, deep and full, punctuating his words with the snap of his hips.

You sniffle and nod, maybe answering somewhere amongst the string of moans and whines leaving your body as the pleasure builds inside you.

His palm cracks across your ass suddenly, then he grabs at the meat of your hip afterwards. It’s not a show of dominance, definitely not punishment, when you finally meet his eyes you know it’s all passion. All consuming, delirious passion.

“More, Toshi, please.”

“You got it, love.” He buries his face in your neck and lets out the most gorgeous, strangled moan as he starts to fuck you even harder. He spanks you one more time as he takes every inch of you, intense and dedicated.

With every thrust in he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. He angles his hips up just a bit more, rubbing your insides just right.

“There- fuck, baby- right there, right there.” You cry out into the room.

“Shit- let me look at you, let me see that pretty face.” He fists his hand into your hair so he can pull your head up, again the movement lacks any possessive bite, he’s just guiding.

“You’re such a good girl, so fucking good.” He’s close too, he always gets mouthy when he’s close.

Your walls start to pulse around him as he pounds away at your insides, his fingers sink into your hip as the other pulls your head back a little bit more.

“Oh kitten, I felt that, you close? You gonna cum for me?” He lures you in with his filthy words and his rich voice.

“I’m- Toshi, oh fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck.” You sob out each word as your body seizes completely, heat settles between your legs as your walls start to clamp rhythmically around him.

“That’s it, cum on that cock, cum on that fucking cock.” With a few more deep, sloppy thrusts he stills inside of you, spilling into your cunt as he groans in the back of his throat.

You both moan and twitch and whimper against each other. Your bodies shiver and grind, hands cling as breathing slows and you both just feel everything all at once.

“So good, so beautiful.” He mumbles into your damp neck.

As you both roll through your aftershocks as you slide your hands up to cradle his face.

“I love you, bad accents and all.” You kiss his forehead, his nose, his chin.

He just chuckles and stays still, letting himself be loved.

“I adore you.” He beams up at you, that mischievous glint dances in his eyes again.

“Don’t move.” He says before depositing you onto the couch.

You plop down with a small yelp of protest which he promptly ignores. You shake your head as he dashes off down the hall. You assume to get a washcloth or something, but why so abruptly?

You shiver a little bit, your damp body making you feel a little too cold now that you’re not moving so much. You scan the room for the discarded clothing, eyes locking on his shirt immediately. You throw it over your body and let the black fabric drown you, the long sleeves swallow your hands as the length of it meets the middle of your thighs.

Hitoshi thumps down the hallway and rounds the corner with a little too much speed and certainly no washcloth. He’s thrown on a pair of basketball shorts, they hang off his toned body so well, making your mouth water and your thighs rub together even after you’ve been so satisfied.

“Shirt thief.” He laughs before walking towards you lazily.

He settles on his knees in front of you, hooking his hands under your knees so he can pull you towards him. He moves so your thighs are around his ribs and his arms are around your hips.

“Round two already?” You tease, running your hands through his messy hair.

“Bet you’d like that, little minx.” He pulls you in and lays his head against your chest.

You giggle as you soak up his warmth, hands twirling his wild strands as he lets out a long sigh.

“I do adore you, you know that, right?” He asks as he brings his head up so look at you.

“I do, are you going to tell me what that weird exit was about?” You ask, bringing one hand down to caress his cheek, curiosity digging at your brain.

He settles back a little, putting just a bit more space between you so he can look you in the eyes completely.

“I love you, you make me feel alive and awake and aware. You make me feel seen and known and so fucking loved. I want to keep feeling that way, and I want to make you feel that way.” He says, his words make your heart soar and tears well in your eyes.

Then he’s reaching for his pocket.

Then he’s pulling out a little black box.

“You really do set my soul on fire, so… would you please, please marry me?”

He pops open the box and it’s perfect. It’s your favorite stone set beautifully in the metal you like, nothing over the top, simple and stunning. There’s not even a second of thought, every inch of your being loves Hitoshi Shinsou. It’s been that way since you first met him, that lanky mess of purple hair and bad jokes. This is all you want, it’s all you need.

“Yes, duh, absolutely, yes, yes, yes!” You sink off the couch so you can kneel with him, throwing your arms around his neck and knocking him onto his back. You attack his handsome face with kisses, grabbing the sides of his head to hold him in place.

“Who’s cheesy now?” He laughs as he grabs you by your sides and flips you over, between giggles and kisses he somehow gets the ring out of the box, he pulls you up to your knees as he mirrors you on his.

You offer him your left hand, when did it start shaking? Slowly, like he’s scared you’ll run away, he slides it onto your ring finger.

“Toshi, it’s so pretty.” You breathe.

“Well, then it matches you, love.”

He kisses you again, long and deep, hands on your waist as yours fly to the collar of his shirt, wishing to pull him closer and closer.

“Merry Christmas.” He mumbles against your lips, both of you grinning so much you know your cheeks will hurt.

“Hell yeah it is.” You reply, filled with the love you feel for your person, for the man that will be your husband.

#hitoshi shinsou #shinsou smut #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou fluff #mha smut #mha fluff #pro hero shinsou #my hero smut #my hero academia smut #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #bnha shinso x reader

398 notes · View notes

marvel-is-an-addiction · 3 years

Text

WinterFalcon week 2021 - Day 1

Hi, this is my first time doing this, so please bear with me. Here is the first day of the WinterFalcon week created by @winterfalconweek. The prompt was “Sam finds Bucky before Civil War”. Enjoy!

Sam thought that after Steve and his frighteningly fast jogging left, he could finally take his morning runs peacefully. He could, once again, slow down a little to see the sunrise over the flowering trees. He could wave and shout a brief ‘good morning’ to all the other morning joggers and dog-walkers. He could finally take a break after his third lap, sitting on one of the benches near the lake and watching the fish. He could finally relax, knowing there wasn’t someone running laps around him - quite literally. But most of all, he was glad that he wouldn’t have to hear that classic, yet almost patronizing “On your left” ever again.

Well, he had been right about one thing. He wouldn’t have to hear that sentence again. Instead, he heard something equally bad, if not worse.

“On your right.”

- - -

The morning had started normal enough. Sam’s alarm rang at exactly six am, signaling it was time for his morning run. He changed into something better suited for jogging, took a swing of water, and put on his running shoes as he set out for the park. He stretched his legs and arms a little on the way there, shivering slightly from the morning cold. As he reached the park, he started picking up his pace until he was jogging lightly. He took in a big breath of fresh air as he took in the morning view.

Sighing happily, he jogged steadily. He looked around, waving and smiling at the occasional passerby. He was on his second lap when he finally heard another pair of feet jogging behind him. He smiled to himself, secretly glad that it wasn’t Steve and his inhumanely fast running. It wasn’t until the person behind him sped up that he paid much attention to them.

Fine, he thought. Two can play that game. He started picking up his pace, still slightly ahead of the other jogger. They must’ve noticed that since they too picked up their pace. The two joggers kept accelerating until they were both running at full speed. To everyone else at the park, they must’ve looked idiotic, but they didn’t seem to care.

Although Sam was super competitive when it came to running, he eventually ran out of stamina and slowed down a little. That was when the jogger overtook him, shouting a quick “On your right,” as they sped ahead. Only then did Sam get a brief look at them. The jogger was a man with chestnut hair that almost reached his shoulders. He had worn a hoodie and shorts, showing off his sturdy legs. His form wasn’t all that great, but his speed and stamina made up for it.

Sam hoped this was the last time he raced with this mystery jogger. He had, after all, wanted to take his morning runs peacefully.

- - -

The next morning Sam woke up at the same time; six am. He drank a little water before changing and heading out. He once again stretched a little before starting his morning run. He started jogging casually for almost 20 minutes before he heard another pair of feet jogging behind him.

Damn it, he thought. The stupid mystery jogger is back. And sure enough, the pair of feet caught up with him. They, once again, started racing to see who could stay ahead. Sam managed to take the lead for almost five minutes before the other man overtook him. And once again the other jogger shouted the dreaded “On your right.”

- - -

Sam was determined to stay ahead of that stupid jogger. He got up at the normal time, heading to the park earlier than usual as he didn’t waste time at home. He stretched more thoroughly and warmed up a little. He started speed walking until eventually, he sped up to a light jog.

Upon hearing those aggravating footsteps again, Sam didn’t waste time waiting for the other. Instead, he started sprinting at full speed. He knew that was a really stupid thing to do, especially since the mystery jogger would catch up to him eventually and Sam probably wouldn’t have enough stamina to keep up with him. But he ran forward anyway.

Once he felt that he was far enough ahead, Sam slowed down until he came to a full stop. He doubled over, breathing heavily. He spotted a water fountain, a little ways away, and decided to drink a little before continuing his jog. He walked over to the fountain, letting the cool water splash over his face and into his mouth.

When Sam had finished drinking, he walked back to the trail, wiping his face. He was about to start jogging again when he heard that stupid pair of feet on the road, along with the snarky “On your right.” Dammit, he had been too slow.

- - -

The silent running competition continued between Sam and the mystery jogger for a couple of weeks. Every day, Sam started jogging, hoping that was the day he would outrun the other. But every day, the man with chestnut hair and big calf muscles overtook him and shouted his stupid “On your right.”

After a while, the other man must’ve gotten a bit bored with his usual phrase because he decided to change it up a little. The first time that happened, Sam became slightly confused as to why the “On your right,” was now suddenly said with a horrible British accent. The next day, it was a terrible Southern accent. Then it was a weird French accent. He kept going until he ran out of accents, at which point he switched to different languages. The first time it sounded like Russian, then it was Spanish, and another time it was Italian. A lot of the languages were spoken with a clear American accent, almost as if the mystery jogger had typed the phrase into Google translate and tried to pronounce the translation. It got to the point where it felt like he was doing it on purpose, as if he was trying to get Sam to laugh. And Sam did laugh, almost every time.

Soon, the two became unlikely friends. They never saw each other apart from their morning runs, and even then, Sam had only seen a glimpse of his face and didn’t even know his name. Nevertheless, they became good companions, running together every day, without fail.

- Two years later -

“Okay man, I get it. But who the hell is this Bucky Barnes guy? I’ve never met him.” Sam said to Steve as they walked up the stairs of an old apartment building. Steve had this old friend from the 40s that he wanted Sam to meet. He had previously been brainwashed by Hydra and became the infamous Winter Soldier. But now, he had finally broken free from the hypnosis, and was on the run from the government who thought he was a threat. Sam wasn’t sure if he trusted this guy, but he trusted Steve, so he would have to deal with another 100 and something-year-old. He just hoped Bucky didn’t look and act his age.

“Don’t worry, you’re about to meet him,” Steve responded as they reached the top of the stairs. He took out a key and used it to unlock one of the doors on that floor. “Hey Buck, it’s me, Steve. I brought a friend. I think he could help us out.” Steve called out.

As they walked into what looked like the living room, Sam could hear the TV and saw a man sitting on the couch. He had chestnut hair that almost reached his shoulders and his face looked familiar. Wait a second-

“You’re the mystery jogger!” Sam realized, pointing to the man on the couch. He looked up from the TV with visible confusion on his face. Then, a look of recognition dawned on his face.

“Oh shit, you’re the slow dude from the park.” He said. Even though it had been years since Sam saw him last, his voice was so familiar. A rush of memories came as he remembered all the morning runs where they had raced. He had eventually moved away for his job and never saw the mystery jogger again, much to his dismay.

“I’m not slow, you’re just super fucking fast. What, are you a super soldier too?” Sam replied, secretly offended because he thought of himself as a pretty fast jogger.

“Actually,” Steve interjected, sensing that the two might start arguing. “He is. So, I take it you’ve already met?”

“Yeah.”

“Kind of.” The two responded at the same time.

“Great!” Steve said cheerfully as he clapped his hands together. “Then I’m sure you guys will get along just fine. Bucky, turn off the TV. We have to talk strategy.”

“Fine,” Bucky groaned as he grabbed the TV remote and turned it off.

“Sounds good,” Sam said to Steve. Then, he turned to who he assumed was Bucky. “Also, I want a rematch. I’m a lot faster than I was two years ago.”

Bucky grinned. “We’ll see about that. I am a super soldier, after all.”

#winterfalconweek2k21 #sam x bucky #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes #sam wilson #morning runs #running au #on your right #jogging #competitive sambucky #sambucky #winterfalcon #marvel #mcu #exercise

18 notes · View notes

rons-hermiones · 3 years

Text

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Nine

Soon after breakfast Hermione disappeared back to Ginny’s room, she traded in her flannel pants for sweats. Keeping on her navy jumper, she threw on a warm cloak from her trunk and snuck into the garden.

Despite the cold, the outdoors were refreshing. Something about being outside just calmed her, helped clear her head a bit.

Slumping against her new favorite spot, an old oak tree, she pulled out the very book she’s kept to herself for weeks. Hermione begins to read it, eyes skimming the same passages over and over, jotting down important points in her notebook.

Like usual, she was so engrossed in her task at hand, she failed to notice someone walking toward her.

“Bonjour mon chèri.” Fleur’s smooth voice announces, seemingly floating over to Hermione through the breeze.

At first the brunette jumps at the surprise, having been tense lately, but soon she relaxes. Fleur was just about the only person she was willing to talk to these days.

Like Hermione, she had been feeling out of place, trying to find her footing. And sure they were in two completely different situations, one being engaged to a Weasley, the other pining after one, but it was oddly comforting to not feel so alone.

“Bonjour Fleur, comment allez-vous?” Another bonus, is that for whatever reason, the blonde reminded her eerily of her grandmother.

Maybe it was because they both lived out their days in France and Hermione was trying to cling onto anything when it came to her Gran as of late, but Fleur’s presence allowed her to think of the woman without feeling sad. To just remember her how she is, a kind, loving woman.

“Bonne.” She smiles, Hermione just now notices the blanket in her hand, “I’ve been sent on a mission to keep you warm!” She giggles, subtly nodding to the window.

Hermione looks over to find Ron standing there watching them, but as soon as her eye catches him, he drops the curtain like he was never there.

“Oh, I’m fine.” She tells the woman, quickly closing her journal and book.

“Well, I was given very serious orders that I get this quilt to you.” Then, she drops on the grass next to the younger girl.

She grits her teeth, “you can tell whoever sent you that if they want me to have that, they should’ve come themselves.” And she doesn’t even know why she said it, Hermione has in fact been avoiding Ron.

“I said the same.” The blonde states, “but you seem to make poor Ronald rather nervous.”

Hermione remains silent as she begins to pick at the quilt Fleur’s laid over them.

“I know what happened.” The older girl states after a moment.

Her eyes snapped to Fleur’s blue ones, “you do?” She sounds strangled.

Curtly, the blue eyed woman nodded, “of course. Ronald writes Bill about any chance he can and Bill can only offer so much advice about girls.”

She scoffed before she could help it, “yeah, pretty girls like you, and Lavender Brown, or even,”

Fleur cut her off, “they were all about you mon chèri.”

At this a twisted laugh left Hermione’s throat.

“No je jure!” She exclaimed, “Every night Bill comes to bed and reads his letters, he suggested I should join him to practice some English. At first it helped, but now I am invested!”

“Nice to know my life is entertainment, Fleur.” Hermione teased with a small smile.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” She defended, but then noticed the smile on the younger girls face, “alright well, it is entertaining. Anyway, if Ronald knew I read them or am telling you about it, he’d surely die from embarrassment.”

In turn, the witch just scrunches her brow, imploring the woman to go on.

Fleur clears her throat and sits up, “Oh Bill!” She starts in her best English accent and Ron impression, stifling a laugh from Hermione, “Almost died again tonight! Hermione saved me, again! She is brilliant, oh Bill,” she gasps dramatically, “I need something to get her for Christmas, but she’s already perfect! What do I do? Please write.”

“No way.” Hermione laughs at Fleur’s impression and at the dramatic recap.

“I swear it! Recently his letters have been a lot more, how do you say?” She pauses, “pathetic.”

“Go on then.” Hermione encourages liking the amusement of Fleur’s performance as Ron, as well as the additional information.

“Bill I am a,” she thinks for the exact word, “a tosser! A right tosser!” Hermione laughs, that was something Ron would say, “I have messed up terribly, Hermione, she’ll never speak to me again and I can’t blame her.”

Suddenly, Hermione’s brown eyes go wide as Fleur goes on, this time dropping back to her normal voice, speaking softly, “It’s so hard without her and I would give anything to make things right.” She finished.

The brunette's vision began to blur, “he really wrote that?” She asked hoarsely.

In turn the French woman nodded, “every word.”

A tear slipped down Hermione’s cheek at the knowledge. Knowing Ron missed her too made things even harder. She doesn’t think she has it in him to talk things out and go back to how things were. She’s too scared to be hurt again, she doesn’t know if she’ll survive.

“Look Hermione,” she sighs sadly, “I understand that things between you and Ron are complicated and that you are hurt. We all see that, he sees it more than anyone, and he’s been beating himself over it since.”

“Fleur, I,” she begins to protest.

“I am not saying you should forgive him just like that, what I’m telling you is that he knows he’s hurt you and it’s killing him. Just give him a chance mon chèrie.”

She contemplates this for a few moments. Her heart aches for Ron. It’s kind of backwards that she feels bad because he’s aching for how he hurt her, and she feels bad about it. It’s like she just can’t scrub him out of her life, no matter how much she thinks he wants her gone, she knows that’s not the case.

And Fleur’s right, she isn’t ready to forgive him, she probably won’t be ready to for a long time, but she is willing to take a step with him. To hear him out and just try and understand, but when the time is right.

“Okay.” She says simply, wiping at her eyes with her wrists.

The blonde plants a warm kiss on her bushy hair and moves to stand up.

“Stay warm.” She flashes her a small smile as she works her way back into the house.

“Fleur!” She calls before she can help herself.

The French woman turns eyes wide with curiosity.

“Not that I’m not grateful, but why did you tell me?” Hermione just needed to know.

Again a smile sat on her pretty face, “because us girls, we need to look out for each other, especially here,” she gestured to the Burrow where eight men were currently residing, “you and I especially.” Subtly hinting that the only two other women were Weasley’s themselves.

A small smile now stretched on Hermione’s lips, “thank you Fleur.”

And with a wink the blonde walked back into the house knowing if she and Ron got through this, one day Hermione would surely be her sister.

...

“Fleur’s been out there a long time, what do you reckon they’re talking about?” Ron asked, still looming by the window.

“I dunno, you.” Harry shrugged over his Quidditch magazine.

“Hardy har.” Ron shot back sarcastically.

“Have you figured out what you’re gonna do tomorrow, with your gift and all?” He asked casually.

“How’d you hear about that!” Ron bellowed embarrassed.

The chosen one dropped his magazine to his lap, eyeing his friend, “the whole house knows by now, except Hermione.” He shrugged.

“I’m gonna hex the bollocks off Bill.”

“Wasn’t Bill, it was Charlie.” The green eyed boy corrected.

Ron rolled his eyes, “even better.”

“Well,” Harry drawled, “Ginny told me Hermione’s trunk is overflowing with gifts.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

The ginger shook his head, “doubt she got me anything mate, not unless it’s puking pastilles, you know, without the purple end.”

“Oi, that’s my best mate you’re going on about, don’t you doubt for a second that she wouldn’t get you anything.” He said annoyed with Ron’s lack of faith.

Weasley said nothing and continued to poke his head out the window, quickly jumping away when Hermione’s brown eyes found his.

“You and Hermione may not be speaking but she does care. I reckon that’s the problem, that she cares too much.”

He drops his hand from where they’re clutching the tattered drapes, “I know that Harry.” Ron says defeatedly.

“You seem to be forgetting.” He sits up, “I know for a fact she’d die for you Ron, even now, even when you two aren’t speaking.” Harry states.

Ferociously, the red head shakes his head, “don’t say things like that. I don’t wanna think about that.” His response was reaching that of when Fred made his Death Eater joke yesterday.

Sensing his best friend's rising temper, he quickly averts the subject, “so when are you gonna give her it? The gift.”

Ron shrugs, his initial plan was to give it to her privately, explain everything behind it, but as Christmas closed in he grew more nervous. “Leave it under the tree?” His voice is high and squeaky.

“Ron,” the dark haired boy grumbled, “again my knowledge about girls is limited, especially when trying to think about Hermione like that.” He squirmed, “But I think if you put this much into the gift, you might as well explain why.”

“It’s not easy.” He admits quietly, plopping onto the couch, “it wasn’t easy telling you, or Ginny, or even breaking up with Lavender.”

Harry shakes his head, “I think that’s the whole point Ron, if things were easy then we wouldn’t know how much we wanted them.” He said quietly, silently reflecting on his own wishes.

“Harry Potter,” Ron said after a moment, “when did you get so poetic?” He teased.

In response the chosen one laughed and chucked his magazine at the gingers head.

“I reckon I’m rather tired of watching some tosser feel sorry about himself.”

“Who ever could you mean Potter?” He joked.

“Hmm, tall, red hair, blue eyes, I think he’s Gryffindor keeper. What’s his name? Roger? Rupert?” He suddenly sounds a lot like Slughorn.

“Shove it.” He chuckled, “I don’t even know what I’d say.” Ron commented.

Harry sat up and went to the edge of the couch cushion, scooting closer, “pretend I’m Hermione.”

His face scrunches, “what? No! That’s bloody weird.”

“Come on Ron! You need all the help you can get. I don’t think anyone can handle this from the two of you anymore.” The chosen one encourages.

From the rare good mood Harry seems to be in Ron complies.

“Hermione, would you please,” he notices Harry watching him, “can’t you like... look away?” His friend rolled his eyes and kept staring at Ron, “would you please come outside with me, I’d like to give you something.”

“No Ronald!” Harry shrieked in his best Hermione voice.

“Harry what the hell? You’re supposed to make this easy!” Ron countered.

“Well would she?” The dark haired boy asked.

“Good point,” the ginger agreed, clearing his throat, “anyway, it would really mean a lot to me and I’d like to talk to you.” He tried entering the act again.

“Oh so now you want to talk?” The Boy-Who-Lived asked, impersonating his best friend quite poorly.

“Harry.” He groans.

“Fine, fine.” He stops, “let’s talk.”

Averting his blue eyes from green ones, he envisions Hermione somewhere in the room, “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for hurting you. I know that it won’t fix anything, but I’m through with Lavender, we should’ve never been together. Not when it was hurting you and you don’t have to tell me why, I knew it was, so I’m sorry. I really am, I just hope you can find it in yourself to consider forgiving me. I’ll be here, however long it takes.” He rambles out, momentarily forgetting Harry was even there.

“Is this when we snog?” The chosen one says, interrupting the daze.

“Oh shove off.” He grunted back annoyed.

“I thought you did good Ron, I’m sure you’ll have to account for at least two interruptions, but, I think it’s a start.” Harry’s voice is now serious.

“And that’s all I’m asking for, a start.” He clears up.

“Well as long as you buck up tomorrow, that’s what you’ll get.”

Before Ron can even answer, Harry’s green eyes find the window. Abruptly, Weasley turns and panics.

“Fleur’s coming back! Act casual.” He jumped to the couch and acted as if he were napping, leaving a laughing Potter.

The door soon opened as Fleur appeared, “Bonjour boys.”

“Oh hey there Fleur, didn’t even notice you came in.” The redhead states, causing Harry to chuckle even more.

The blonde rolled her eyes, knowing what he was doing, “you know Ronald,” she began, too casual for his liking, “I’ve been told by someone, that next time you’re to give them something you should do it yourself.” Obviously she was referring to the blanket, but Ron’s mind jumped to the gift in his room.

“I told him the same!” Harry called happily in agreement.

“Oui, smart boy.” She praised me.

“Alright, alright, I get it. I swear the next thing I need to give Hermione will come directly from my hands. No one else’s.” He promises.

Fleur stares at him for a moment before a grin stretches across her face, “good Ron, for a moment I was worried you were a, what was it? A right tosser.” She says before leaving the room.

For a moment he’s left shocked by her words, wondering why she’d say such a thing. Then suddenly, his mind flashed to how he closed every single letter to Bill: A right tosser, Ron.

“Oh Merlin,” he grumbled red as a tomato, “Bill!” He bellows as Fleur’s giggles float from the steps.

#ron x hermione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron and hermione #rons-hermiones come find me #hp fanfic #hp #romione #romione fanfic #sixth year

13 notes · View notes

the-lady-writes-what · 3 years

Text

20. Tenya Iida

Theme: Vampire, Southern Gothic

Kinks: Outdoor sex, biting (duh), slight blood kink, mild spanking, mild punishment play, brat calling

All underaged characters are aged up. Tenya is 18+. Don’t come for me unless I send for you.

(The original Master List will change slightly from story to story. I keep adding stuff that I did not put on the original list)

Masterlist

You closed the ornate French doors behind you and stepped out into the night. The evening was sticky with the high humidity, but it was better than the sweltering heat inside. You fanned yourself with a silk fan and wandered into the garden. Cicadas hummed wildly in the trees while crickets chirped in the grass. In the air hung gardenia, wisteria, and homegrown lemongrass. So much better than the cloying, choking smell of cheap perfume, and even cheaper cigar smoke. You were dragged here almost against your will. The only things you liked about the party were the cocktails and the lovely new cocktail dress you got to show off. It was a silk and chiffon dress that wrapped around your body like a second skin. Best of all, it was in your favorite color.

Here in the deep south of Louisiana, the silk and chiffon were welcomed in the heat. The evening had cooled a great deal since the afternoon when you arrived at this southern palace. If it had been hosted at an actual plantation home, you would have chosen to wear your new favorite dress to a different venue.

Thankfully, the house was less than fifty years old and was owned by your boss, who liked a certain amount of Americana, odd for someone who was Japanese. But who were you to judge Mr. Toshinori?

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to walk into the night all by yourself. If quirks weren't bad enough, add vampires into the mix, and you have a world turned upside down. Before you ask, vampires were never real until someone had the misfortune of having a literal vampire-quirk. It spread by accent when that civilian had gone too long without sating themselves on living blood, they infected another. As it came to be known throughout the world in news and social media, the vampire quirk was passed through bites and the exchange of blood. The victim still kept their original quirks, but now they had to have blood to live, they can't step out into the sun unless the victims wanted serious burns, and they grew pale or gray like death, depending on skin tone.

But the party was too stifling.

Half the guests were strangers to you, friends of Mr. Toshinori. The other half of the guest list included people who just made you feel terrible. They weren't bad people, but they reminded you of a time when you had someone special. Tenya has been missing for two years since the vampire quirk first infected Japan. Though a lot of work had been done to quell the problem, many were still missing. One day he was there, fighting crime and protecting you and the city. The next, he was gone. Vanished. His family and agency didn't know where he'd gone, much to your horror. Two years later, there were more questions than answers.

The fresh air was necessary for you not to lose your mind or get plastered in front of Mr. Toshinori's friends. Tonight felt similar to summer evenings in Japan, so it wasn't out of place. You stepped further away from the house and squinted into the yard. A full moon pierced in between the branches and shed some light. You found a path that led out into an unfenced part of the yard. You weren't sure if Americans were fond of wide open backyards, or if the fancy house was built so far from the nearest neighbors, a fence seemed silly. You glanced over your shoulder, then continued. You didn't mind the grass tickling your legs, but it was the bugs treating you like an all-you-can-eat buffet. You found a pebbled path and took it to avoid all the bugs. Your heels weren't very high at all, so walking down the trail wasn't a significant feat. You circled the property, always making sure that you could still make out parts of the house.

The night grew longer. Sooner rather than later, someone was going to miss you at the party. Your quirk wasn't strong against most people, let alone someone infected with a vampire quirk. You think about going back but only think. The night air is so clear and breathable. You didn't even mind the bug bites and humidity. You made another circle around the house's property before your legs started to hurt. Behind a gardenia bush stood a stone bench perfect for you to rest. You sank down with a sigh. The smell of gardenias was almost too much before a new smell wafted towards you. It was a smooth, masculine cologne. You smelled it before and knew it well.

You sprang to your feet to follow the scent. It led you back around the house where no one in the windows could see you scurry through the bushes. The lights of the house slowly began to disappear the further you traveled. A finely manicured garden gave way to the wilderness. Moonlight and starlight guided you deeper still with frogs croaking around a small moss-covered pond. Moonbeams split between the branches of a weeping willow to outline the shadowed figure sitting at the base of the tree. You stopped in your tracks. Your heart started pounding.

The figure rose to their feet and turned towards you. A summer breeze brushed the leaves out of the way to reveal their full form.

"Y/N?"

Tenya's voice froze the blood in your veins. Tears welled in your eyes at the first intonement of his voice, and you took a cautious step towards him. Your legs shook to the point that you weren't able to stand any longer. Your heel snagged on an upraised root and sent you tumbled over. Tenya's superior speed let him catch you before you landed on the loamy ground.

"Are you alright?" Iida asked.

You balked. Your jaw dropped to the ground.

"Am I okay? Are you okay? What happened? Where have you been?" You had a thousand more questions. Instead, you chose to grab hold of his shirt and bury your face inside his chest.

His arms hesitantly wrapped around you. You breathed in his scent deeply. You missed this smell. Almost as much as you missed the man himself.

"I've missed you so much," you sighed.

"I…I missed you too," said Tenya.

You didn't bother to dry your eyes as you lifted your head to look up at him. Tenya's eyes glowed red in the dark. Gasping, you pulled away slightly. Tenya ground his teeth and turned his eyes away from you. You felt his arms slip away from you even though you still clutched his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I couldn't stop him. I wasn't trying to apprehend a criminal, but he bit me. I couldn't face my family or you after knowing what I became."

"Then, why are you here?"

"I made arrangements with Toshinori. I only wanted to see you one more time. I wanted to see how you were if you were eating right. If you moved on." Your heart sank. You reached up with both hands and held his face and turned it slowly over to yours.

"Move on? You hoped I moved on?" Your voice cracked at the insult. "All I wanted was to know what happened to you, Tenya. I love you, I don't care what you've turned into! You gave yourself up in the pursuit of justice. You're my hero, Tenya. How could I move on from you?"

You didn't give him a chance to make a rebuttal. You kissed him hard on the lips, licking and biting where you could. You both stumbled to the ground, Tenya being too distracted to stop the fall. You straddled his hips and held his head between your hands. Your tears watered his cheeks as you kissed his lips and each cheek, his eyes, chin, forehead, and both of his ears. You kissed him all over until his face was cherry red.

"Y-Y/N! Calm down, I understand! You, you love me. But there's something you need to know."

You stopped for a moment. More so to catch your breath than because he told you to. You wanted to kiss him all night. His eyes glowed red in the dark. Tenya leaned forward and braced his hands against the moist earth. As he sat up, you felt his hardened member poke between your cheeks. Tenya parted his lips. Two slivery fangs protruded from pinkish gums.

"I've been infected by the vampire quirk, which makes things like this…awkward. You have no idea how many nights I thought about you. Wondering if you would still want me after finding out I was infected. I wanted to go to you and," Tenya swallowed hard. "Do unspeakable things to you."

His face grew redder. The tips of his ears turned bright pink. You stifled yourself to keep from laughing. No matter how adorable you thought his face looked, that didn't make the situation any less severe. You needed to focus on what he was about to say.

"I found myself going to your apartment and thought about how your neck would feel against my new fangs as I thrust inside you. I wondered what you would sound like as I…fucked you and sucked your blood. I was afraid that you would think of me as nothing but a monster."

You reached behind your back, where Tenya's cock stood at attention. You wrapped your hand around him and pumped him through his clothes. This made the man beneath you buck his hips.

"Does this look like I think you're a monster?" You asked slyly.

Tenya grunted as you pumped him harder. You shifted forward a little, so you could unzip his pants pull it out. You couldn't tell whether it was the vampire quirk that made him so big and hard all of a sudden, or your administrative kisses were enough to make him rock hard.

In a flash, you were pinned to the willow tree, shielded from all view except for Tenya's. The wind was knocked out of you that you didn't get the chance to recover. The sounds of tearing fabric reached your ears before you realized that it was Tenya, your sweet Tenya, who was doing the clothes-ripping. Your silk panties were reduced to shreds by the time he was done with them. The seams of your dress were also ripped in his furor to get you to spread open for him. Tenya gave no warning before plunging right in. You moaned at how full you felt, how the veins of his cock rubbed you the right way. You tossed your head back as Tenya slammed his hips into yours. His teeth left indents in your shoulders and the tops of your dress, where it slipped from your shoulders. Tenya's speed and rough treatment made the willow tree shiver along with you.

"You're devious, you know," Tenya growled. "Fucking a vampire in the middle of the woods. You should be punished for having such a lewd mind."

Tenya held your legs wide open and pulled them taut behind his back. Your ankles instinctively crossed each other at the small of his back, and your heels dug into his flesh. Not that Tenya seemed to mind or notice. Tenya held you tight against him until there was no more space between you. In your lust-filled haze, you could no longer tell where you ended and where Tenya began. He pounded your cunt with the ferocity of a starving man at a buffet. You giggled how earlier you thought yourself an all-you-can-eat buffet for mosquitoes, and here you were being served up to someone who likely hadn't had sex for two years.

One of Tenya's broad hands came down against your thigh, turning it bright red with his handprint.

"Laughing…at a time like this, YN?" Tenya grunted with a deep thrust that kissed your cervix. "You should pay attention when you're getting punished."

If this was punishment, then you were going to be a very bad girl for your boyfriend.

"Mhmm, Tenya. Do it again. Fuck me harder, spank me more!"

Tenya slowed only to give you a stern look. His hips never stopped moving, and his cock was still heavily buried in you. He glowered at your sheepish smile.

"Is that how you want to play, little brat?"

You challenged him to a fight you could not win. Still buried deep within your inner walls, Tenya laid you out on the grass, hair and torn chiffon rumbled on the ground. He held your legs up to your chest and demanded that you hold them there. Your shoulders pressed into the dirt, but you didn't mind. Tenya resumed his seat in your warm walls and started stretching you out anew. This new angle was superb for reaching deep inside your cunt and hitting your cervix over and over again. Tenya clawed your body like it was his own toy to play with. Having never before seen this side of Tenya before, you moaned at the rough treatment. Your juices spread all over your lower belly, thighs, and the Tenya's pelvis. Stars danced in front of your eyes as you felt your whole body tighten. Your back arched taught like a bow. Your hands clutched the ground for support as you felt yourself falling. Tenya snapped his hips with enough strength to break your bones. Heavy ropes of cum warmed your walls and lower belly as it spread. You were utterly boneless despite Tenya slowly pumping more into you.

His head leaned down and pressed his lips against your throat. You felt the pinpricks of his fangs jut against your flesh, teasing and threatening at the same time. Slowly, you nodded your head.

Tenya waited for no more. He sank his teeth into as he started his pumping again. His thrusts were slower but harder. Each bone-shattering snap of his hips dragged you back up to that wonderful precipice you'd just fallen over. You moved your hips against him and wrapped your arms behind his neck. Tenya was careful not to take too much or too quickly. He suckled your blood with a strange gentleness that contrasted the harsh thrusting inside your womb. That only changed when he climaxed again, fangs and cock still fully sheathed inside you. You milked him while his mouth laved up the crimson rivulets.

You reached up to cling to his shoulders as Tenya carefully pulled away to avoid hurting you further. The ache in your legs was proof that you had never experienced the like before. However, it was a delicious pain. You vaguely remember Tenya rearranging your clothes and his before picking you up off the ground. You fell asleep in his arms, listening to the hum of cicadas.

#kinktober week #kinktober my hero academia edition #my hero academia #mha #mha fanfiction #mha smut #tenya #tenya Iida #vampire!Tenya

77 notes · View notes

witchkings · 4 years

Text

The One Engagement Ring

An Angbang Modern AU drabble as prompted by the lovely @darklord <3

Three seconds. Barely any time at all. Negligible in the greater scheme of Mairon’s life, nothing to the ever-advancing flow of the universe, miniscule, dismissible, stupid. Three seconds was all it had taken to ruin Mairon’s picture book life. Melkor would kill him.

These were the facts as Mairon had them:

1. He’d slipped into the bathroom at the university library for a short piss and to get a minute of quiet in the constant chatter of his study group which was spiralling head-first into a discussion about the meaning of life. Even though they were anthropology graduate students with at least half the group minoring in either philosophy or sociology, this was never a good idea.

2. When he’d been in the stall, his engagement ring had still gleamed golden on his ring finger, a constant, warm reminder of the grand day to come. Mairon had planned an autumn wedding, complete with matching tuxes, a seven-course feast and was already training Draugluin to carry the wedding rings down the aisle with Thuringwethil as his reluctant guardian. Melkor, of course, would have preferred for them to pop into Vegas and have some drunken fat Elvis proclaim them married, or better yet, simply hand in the necessary paper work on his way to the office, but Mairon was having none of that. If for one day in his life he wanted to feel special, be marvelled at and fawned over, it was going to be this day, his accursed father be damned.

3. After completing his business, he’d slipped the ring off and into his pocket to wash his hands. He wouldn’t chance it being dulled by hard water or rough soap. Mairon always did it like this, only putting the piece of jewellery back on whenever his hands were dry and spotless, but when he’d made to retrieve it, his pocket had been empty.

4. There’d been two other people on the bathroom with him and he couldn’t remember whether they’d ever come near him at all, but their childish faces, curly heads, and mischievous giggles could only mean one thing: freshmen.

5. For three seconds between drying his hands and reaching for the ring, Mairon had leaned over the sink and inspected his own face. The stress of upcoming exams together with his thesis‘ due date drawing ever nearer gave him red spots along his jawline and he’d glared at them to will them away before Melkor picked him up.

Conclusion: As Mairon had been caught up in his own flaws, one or both of those bastards had sidled up to him and stolen the ring out of his pocket without him noticing. This implied many things, for example that the fatigue was getting to Mairon’s mental capacities or that those freshmen were unusually sneaky. Chiefest of all was this though: Melkor had paid half a fortune for that golden band. For Mairon to lose it, well. It would spell disaster.

Mairon glared at himself in the dirt-speckled mirror, bracing himself on the sink. Three seconds, oh he would show those impertinent, stupid, drunkard gnomes what he could do to a person in three seconds. Mairon took a deep breath and marched out of the bathroom, back to the round table his study group occupied. Eönwe and Tilion were at each other’s necks with arguments dissecting Descartes’ meditations while Osse and Uinen had their tongues down each other’s throats with disgusting slobbering noises. No studying to be done here, one of the sodden constants of Mairon’s life. He grabbed his notes and tablet and shoved them into his bagpack with more force than necessary which had Curumo look up from where he had hovered over his mess of tiny handwritten notes. He looked a little like a deer in head-lights, always lost was poor Curumo. Mairon rolled his eyes and tugged at his classmate’s sleeve.

“What?” Curumo whined, reluctant to forgo the last stretch of productivity he illusioned himself with, but he was already packing up.

“Come with me,” Mairon replied. “We’re going to hunt down some freshmen.”

After a quick text to Melkor to explain he needn’t be picked up today, Mairon dragged Curumo out of the library. The dismayed reply came seconds later, and Melkor wasn’t at all happy with the excuse of needing to tutor Curumo on their upcoming French test. Melkor and Curumo had never gotten along and if Mairon was honest with himself, he would have ditched Curumo after the first week of the first semester, but sometimes the guy proved useful. Especially because, in spite of his timid disposition, he somehow knew everyone on campus, ranging from the most introverted freshman all the way to the creepy maintenance guy who smelled like he lived in the sewers.

“What for?” Curumo asked. They crossed the student-littered yard, dodging peer-pong balls and caffeine-crazed grad students to the cafeteria where Mairon figured his best bet would be. Freshmen were always hungry, and he had a vague memory of four curly-haired heads positively camping in there at all times, claiming they needed seven meals a day to function.

“They stole something from me,” Mairon muttered, raking his hands through his hair. He’d neglected to trim it to its usual chest length and it was getting quite out of hand, tangling at the lightest breeze. Still better than what Curumo’s mother had done to him over the last holiday, short and ragged so that he looked like Jack Frost.

“What did they steal?”

“My engagement ring.”

“What?” Curumo spluttered, and almost ran into the door, but Mairon held it open in time. Under the pretence of having lunch – Mairon never had university lunch if he could help it, the stuff was vile and Melkor was a great cook if he wanted to be – they both got into line, eyes darting about for the thieves.

Mairon spotted the usual groups as he scanned the perimeter. The musical theatre kids led by a haughty grad student with a harp who had a gazillion brothers around. The nature-loving hippies who smoked too much weed for their own good and gave themselves funny names and pretended to be trees on weekends. The burly punk rockers who rode Harleys and had a kink for arson, Mairon had met their gang head Gothmog in a colloquium once, he wasn’t too bad. Even the naval engineering students who usually spent all their free time down by the beaches to test their self-crafted boats where in attendance, picking at salads and discussing hydraulics. Not a sign of those nasty burglars though.

The guy behind the counter handed him a tray, and Mairon took it, paying with his student ID chip card before turning back towards the room, just in time to see a pair of dark, curly heads disappear through the swinging doors of the cafeteria, chips trailing after them like crumbs. Mairon dropped his food and took off after them, spitting curses. Curumo, the good dog that he was, mirrored this. They tore out of the cafeteria and down the hallway together.

“Hey,” Mairon screamed. “Hey, stop!” The two freshmen threw hasty glances over their shoulders, hollering as they ran and dodged around students, but Mairon and Curumo were faster, knew these halls better and soon enough, they had the two cornered against a row of blue lockers.

“Now,” Mairon crooned and made to advance on them, but before he could, someone interrupted him. “Now you will repent.”

“Hey, what do you want with them,” he barked and two people stepped into Mairon’s and Curumo’s way, obscuring the goblins from view. They were both jocks, broad-shouldered and bearded, and towered a head over Curumo and Mairon. He knew the blond one, Eomer, an agriculture major, from a finance class they’d both taken as an elective, but he’d never seen the other man before. He was the one who’d spoken and wore a sports shirt of a team Mairon had never heard of. A white tree was their logo and their motto was written in a strange swirl of letters that looked almost Arabic.

“Just a friendly chat,” Mairon said through gritted teeth. “Not to worry.”

“That didn’t sound so friendly to me,” the guy growled and Eomer put a hand on his shoulder, nodding. His scowl deepened and his eyes burned, staring daggers into Mairon’s.

“Weren’t you that condescending guy at the back of Accounting 101 who called everyone peasants?” he asked and Mairon sighed inwardly. One bad day to haunt him. Or well, a whole semester of bad days, but who was counting anyway? Melkor had been abroad for that time and Mairon had suffered terribly.

“Why do you even care?” Mairon asked, and Curumo put a warning hand to his arm. It wasn’t unlikely that he’d seen these two beat someone up at some frat party before, but Mairon wasn’t intimidated by such mundane things as physical violence.

“Because they’re our friends,” the second jock growled, crossing his arms over his chest. It was hard not to laugh, these fully grown men proclaiming themselves friends of two troublemakers who weren’t even legally adults yet.

“Look, guys,” Curumo said quietly. “Merry and Pippin stole something very valuable from my friend here and he is rather upset about it.”

Eomer bared his teeth, but the other guy whirled around to stare at the two thieves in question who were huddled against the lockers, but silently giggling amongst themselves.

“Is this true?” he asked, and the tone of his voice implied he knew already. Helpless or not, they probably had a reputation for mischief-making.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” one of them said with a thick accent.

“You said it yourself,” the other added, “he is a condescending ass.”

“Boys.”

“Boromir.”

“Enough,” Mairon hissed and pushed through the two jocks and bore down on the freshmen, holding out his empty palm. “You give me back my ring or I will make your lives here a living nightmare. You can hire as many football players and wannabe wrestlers as you want, I am very good friends with the dean, I have more than enough money to bribe every professor in the state to bully you and my boyfriend will beat every last one of your bodyguards to a pulp. Is that clear?”

Merry and Pippin stared at him, their facial muscles contorting in a series of impossible expressions, torn between laughing and crying. They settled for blankness and, at last, Pippin handed over the ring. It was smudged with grease from his fingers and Mairon pulled out a linen handkerchief to polish it with.

“I’m sorry, they’re still not used to their actions having consequences,” Boromir sighed and Eomer nodded sternly.

“Whatever,” Mairon said with half a shrug and he stalked off the scene, leaving Curumo to deal with the polite formalities or whatever the situation demanded. He had his ring back, he could call Melkor to get him after all, he would get laid tonight while all these losers were busy with their parties and teenager friends and studying until their eyes bled. It was not ten minutes later that Mairon was comfortably tucked into Melkor’s Chevrolet, the heated seat warming his ass-cheeks.

“Have a nice day?” Melkor grumbled, not taking his eyes off the parking lot around them. Mairon leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of his beloved’s mouth.

“Nothing special,” he replied and leaned into the backrest. “Nothing special at all.” The ring glinted in the low-afternoon sun and everything was as it should be.

#tolkien #angbang #my writing #melkor #morgoth #mairon #sauron #modern animation #drabble #curumo #boromir #eomer #merry #pippin #lotr

33 notes · View notes

derivativealigner · 3 years

Text

I rewatched the second season of South Park and took so many notes that I had to split them into two parts. Like seriously, I took so. many. notes. And pictures this time. I started rewatching just in case I’d find some cool little facts to sprinkle into my fanfic but I went way too far and now there’s a million facts under this cut (including gay stan, a domestic violence psa, and craig fucking dying)

Stan doesn’t like hospitals, he finds them gross and he gets sick 🤮. Also the hospital in South Park is called Hell’s Pass hospital. Early seasons have the name as Hells Pass but it gets fixed later

Cartman has to sing all of Come Sailing Away by Styx if he hears a part of it. After he says this, Kyle sings the first part and Cartman has to sing the rest. Kyle does it again later, which is kinda mean

Cartman’s mom tries to abort Cartman, who is an eight-year-old child and thus cannot be legally aborted. Later, after she slept with Bill Clinton to change the law and make 40th trimester abortions legal, it turns out she meant adoption

Kenny sacrifices himself to turn on the generator to the hospital and save Dr. Mephesto’s life along with others. He says “I’ll fucking do it” then does it and dies, absolute legend

Cartman gets way too into his deputy role. He goes undercover, pretends to be a prostitute, says “Respect my authoritah!” a lot and beats people up with his police stick

Kenny’s brother first appears when Cartman responds to a call about a disturbance at Kenny’s house. Apparently there are like 10 adult family members in the house at that time. Kenny’s dad has a black eye because Kenny’s mom punched him. She says he can’t hold a job

Token sits in the classroom in season 2

Cartman starts hating hippies in this season, like a lot

Chef tells the boys that the right time to do drugs is in college

Ike’s name is Ike Moisha Broflovski and he was born in 1996, making him 2 years old in 1998 when this season aired

This is probably obvious but yeah Kyle and Ike are circumcised

Kyle says family isn’t just blood, it’s who you care about, and he says “That’s why you guys are more than just friends, you’re my family. Except for Cartman.”

Craig’s finally sitting in the classroom in S02E04

None of the boys like dodgeball

Clyde gets a dodgeball to the face and he cries :( and he’s the only one who cries by the way

Pip throws a dodgeball in Kyle’s face and breaks Kyle’s nose

When Kyle’s mom tells the boys about conjoined twin myslexia (which isn’t a real term) and says anyone might’ve absorbed their dead twin in the womb, Stan and Cartman run away screaming but Kenny and Kyle stay to listen. Kenny even leans in to look at the book “Freaks A-Z!” that Mrs. Broflovski is reading from, and when she leaves, Kyle grimaces and Kenny laughs

Stan’s mom (Sharon) calls Kyle’s mom (Sheila) when Stan is all freaked out and trying to put an icepick through his brain, and Sharon tells Sheila to get run over by a truck. Sharon is pretty mean in these early episodes

Mr. Broflovski doesn’t really listen to what Mrs. Broflovski is saying, bad husband >:(

South Park’s team is always called South Park Cows no matter the sport

The school nurse, Nurse Gollum, went to Colorado State University

I just realized Butters exists. I think he appeared before S02E05 but I didn’t notice but yeah he’s there with the dodgeball team, injured

Here’s a picture to make up for my disgusting anti-Butters bias

Kenny’s dodgeball uniform number is 69 obviously. Kyle is 7, Stan is 4, Cartman is 325

Sheila smacks Gerald in the face so hard he falls off his chair, lots of violence perpetrated by women in this show. Remember, don’t do domestic violence no matter your gender, it’s not cool

I realized after this whole Butters thing that I should’ve made more notes about Pip, so I’ll make a note about his anger issues now. When people call him French, he gets angry and throws dodgeballs at them

The boys launch a jelly roll at Ms. Crabtree and make her crash the bus. They do it just for fun

The kids somehow go to China in the school bus

Cartman references Moby Dick, but he probably doesn’t know what he’s talking about

Kevin Stoley gets named in S02E05 and has his first speaking role when he says he has Chinese parents and after Cartman hears it he immediately says something racist. smh cartman, what a problematic fave

Cartman says “I love you guys 😊” but Stan and Kyle just stare at him and he goes 😐 “Eh, screw you guys 😠”

If Jimbo and Ned really fought in Vietnam, they youngest they could’ve been in 1998 is early forties, which means in the latest seasons they would be early sixties. Btw they met in Vietman

Jesus and Pals is a recurring TV show in seasons 1 and 2. Jesus just kind of lives in South Park

I just remembered that Terrance and Phillip are really old in canon, it’s so weird, like how can South Park canon still be changing, it’s been 20 years

Also the early seasons are casually racist who knew

Kenny flashes his ass on a tape the boys send to Jimbo and Ned’s TV show, which airs and at least 12 people see Kenny’s bare naked ass

Cartman really doesn’t like hippies in these early seasons. He throws a chair at Ned and yells, “Take that, hippie!” (Ned is in a catatonic state and did nothing to provoke this)

Jimbo and Ned live together I guess. Jimbo’s gonna take Ned home and show him some hardcore porn to snap him out of his catatonic state, good husband unlike Gerald Broflovski

Saddam Hussein is in hell and has a Canadian accent and is Satan’s lover in S02E06, I guess he died in Canada in the first episode this season but I wasn’t paying much attention since that’s the Terrance and Phillip episode that pissed a bunch of people off in 1998 because the audience wanted to know who Cartman’s dad is instead. It was kind of a boring episode so I understand why everyone was pissed, but it is funny that Matt and Trey did that so I’m not mad about it

Aww look at them!!! We’ve got background Style, the vaguest inkling of Crenny, and Cartman/Cake

I’d take more screenshots but it’s a pain since I’m watching legally and stupid legal websites block screenshots so I have to find youtube videos instead ughhhh piracy is the answer kids

Apparently there’s a huge waterfall and canyon somewhere close to South Park, maybe? At least in Stan’s dream

Mary Kay Bergman was an incredible voice actor. How the hell did she voice all the moms, Wendy, Shelly, principle Victoria, the mayor, Nurse Gollum, and fucking Ms. Crabtree??? Holy shit what a queen

Kenny has some feelings about death. He reimagines the episode where death boops him to death and in his version, he beats death the fuck up, then has ice cream and is happy 😊 But again, this is in Stan’s dream

S02E07 kind of establishes that nobody remembers Kenny dying because when Cartman tells a story where Kenny dies, Kyle questions how Kenny could’ve died then when he also died just a few hours ago when a giant monster took him

rip craig, he falls out the bus and into a canyon

But it’s okay because it was all Stan’s dream so everything in the episode is questionable. Everything after this is no longer a dream

Pip’s parents are dead and he has to go to summer school while everyone else is having a nice summer break

Officer Barbrady and the mayor are having sexual relations, I’m sure this is the most interesting note I’ve made so far. Idk I’m just writing everything down, this is how I enjoy things, I have no off switch

Ew summer bus stop, cursed

Kyle casually sings little tunes every once in a while, how cute

This is pretty obvious but Kenny likes dirty jokes, he laughs when Cartman innocently says he loves Chef’s salty chocolate balls (which are chocolate candy). Nobody else laughs

Cartman says “Screw you guys, I’m going home” or variations of it a lot in this season

So Stan throws up when he likes someone, right? Well, he’s watching an indie movie about two gay cowboys who start making out and he throws up, which is either a terrible homophobic joke or confirmation that Stan’s a little gay. I know which one I prefer

Kyle says Mr. Hankey is his best friend after Stan. Like I know it’s definitely canon that Stan and Kyle are best friends but it’s still nice to see confirmation, it’s very precious. Also Kyle is best friends with literal shit, so cute 😊

Kenny deaths:

S02E02 Kenny sacrifices himself by connecting a generator wire, which electrocutes him but brings power back to a hospital

S02E03 A tree falls on Kenny and crushes him

S02E04 Kenny falls in a grave and the gravestone falls on him

S02E05 The Chinese dodgeball team throws a ball at Kenny and he gets splattered against a wall

S02E06 Two guys pull on Kenny and tear him in half, as in one has the head and one has the legs

S02E07 A big scary monster plucks Kenny out of the school bus and carries him away. Also in Cartman’s fake memory of Fonzi jumping over cars, the motorcycle hits Kenny and crushes him against a brick wall. Kenny gets smashed against walls a lot, doesn’t he?

S02E08 Flashback: Baby Kenny has a firecracker and it explodes, sprinkling little baby Kenny parts everywhere. Later in the episode, current day Kenny dies when a giant firework snake bumps him off a stage and under a fence, which then crushes him.

S02E09 Kenny is playing with a yoyo outside a movie theatre when a bunch of people come outside and trample him to death. They say “Oh my God, I found a penny!” and “You bastard!”

I’ll post part 2 of season 2 in a couple days. I’m having way more fun writing these stupid notes than I thought I would (also gnomes is coming up soon and i am fucking ready for tweek)

#south park #sp rewatch #i thought i made way too many notes last time #oh boy #also sorry for my anti butters bias showing #i completely forgot to take notes about him until episode 5 #oops

19 notes · View notes

xxtha-blog · 4 years

Text

So apperently I wrote a oneshot fanfic and forgot about it for almost 2 years

And because it's comedy fucking gold, and also some quality post-comic Ace content, I thought I'd share it with you people here.

Without further adieu, may I present to you

A Casual Encounter With Ace

Ink knew very little of Ace. He had met him once, briefly, in the last moments before his AU disappeared into nothingness, Ace sneaking through the portal Dream had created and slipping away from the destruction of his own home like it was nothing more than an average Saturday. Ink barely had the chance to talk to him, didn’t even know his name, he just knew that there was a flamboyant top hat wearing skeleton that enjoyed stealing things and harassing Dream, prancing around the multiverse and causing chaos with no restrictions. Of course, Ink planned to catch him… eventually… if he hadn’t forgotten… multiple times. But it was Ace who seemed to catch him instead.

Ink had been sitting in the snow, crouched behind the trees of Underswap, checking up on the stability of the timeline, when he heard a voice behind him. At first, he thought it was Blue, the only one who would know to look for him there, but the accent threw him off. Ink turned slowly, curious, and saw the black and red skeleton leaning against his staff behind him, smiling modestly as he surveyed the rest of the underground as Ink did.

Ink paused for a second. “Hey– Don’t I know you…?” He tapped a pencil against his chin, working with all his might to remember.

“Perhaps, dear sir, perhaps indeed, for I am quite popular, simply ask my wonderous fans, who may be reading this right now! Which does remind me, do you ever realize that we transcend not only drawings and comic books, but also code, writing, and animations. It’s quite crazy when you think about it, I mean, just look at you. What? One of the most popular characters in the entire fandom created by a mere teenager! Mind boggling and simply astounding, our existence, both of us in fact, relies only on two simple teenagers bringing us to life.” Ace talked mellifluously, his accent smooth and precise, as though someone had mashed together a French and British accent and added a gay flare to it. He talked incredibly fast, as though to confuse everyone with his slur of words, despite them not being slurred in the slightest.

Ink stood up, brushing the snow off his sweater. “Wait a second!” He glanced up again his eyes widening. “Aren’t you that magician guy?!”

Ace tilted his head, intrigued.

“Aha!” Ink declared in triumph. “I finally found you!”

“Magician guy is quite vague. And a guy, no, no, dear sir, not at all, I simply am I, an illusionist, a magician, a slight bit insane, but far saner than you, so I must ask for you to be a tad bit more specific for fear I may misinterpret what you wish to say and be unable to reply!” Ace spun his staff around, giving Ink a slight smirk.

“You’re from that AU- Oh what was it.” Ink spun his hands through the air, churning his memory around. “Magicwhatever, Lucktale, Underchance, Chancyluck, Chance, Chance something, Chancetale-? CHANCETALE!” He put his hands on his hips proudly.

“A dead name, no?” Ace raised his eye sockets into a quizzical expression.

“I mean, yeah, but you’re still here, which means you’re screwing up timelines. Which means I gotta stop ya!” With a quick flip of his arm behind his head, Ink pulled his paintbrush out in front of him and pointed it towards Ace.

“Stop me? Stop me! Oh, how wonderful!” Ace’s eyes lit up as he spun on his heel with glee.

“You’re supposed to be worried,” Ink pointed out. “Like, oh no he’s going to catch me?! Whatever shall I do! And then I go, heck yeah I’m going to catch you! Because I’ve got a super cool paintbrush!”

“I dare say you do not.”

“What do you mean? My paintbrush is awesome, I mean just look at it–" he stopped. "Where’s my paintbrush?” Ink’s hands were empty, his fingers grasping at the cold air around them and nothing more. He wondered if his memory had lapsed again, but he could have sworn he had just been holding it. He reached back only to grasp at the air once more.

Ace casually spun the paintbrush in his hands, still standing stationary a dozen or so feet away, studying the fine patterns on the metal clasps. “Quite a nice paintbrush, indeed, I do not disagree with that, however, you do not have it, therefore your statement was false.” Without another word, the paintbrush disappeared into thin air, and Ace merely tilted his top hat.

Ink started to take things a little more seriously, his smile fading. He straightened. “This’ll be interesting.”

“Oh, tis always interesting when I’m here! Just ask your dear friend Dream!”

“We’re not really friends,” Ink said with a shrug. “He just happens to be useful sometimes.”

“Oh my! What wonderful news we have here! I’ll be sure to keep it in mind to use against you so that I can slowly break apart your relationship until you are both mortal enemies in which case I can use your turmoil to my advantage!” He clasped his hands together, smiling softly, before adding, "If need be."

Ink stared for a second. “You know if you really want to be evil, you shouldn’t announce what you’re going to do out loud.”

“Evil? No, I’m not evil. Never in my wildest dreams would I ever consider myself to be evil, for that would mean I am profoundly immoral, and although I am profound, immoral I am not. I know precisely what is right and wrong, and good and bad, and have no trouble discerning between the two. I simply choose to do good and choose to do bad based on the situation and outcome it will provide me, and dear sir, it is quite a bore to be simply one or the other, is it not? I mean, you’re one to speak, think of the things you have done and the people you have hurt for your own benefit, quite chaotic indeed, but not evil. Few would call the fabulous Ink evil. Therefore I am not evil. I am just spontaneous, whether that be something pleasant or something disagreeable.”

“You really do talk a lot,” Ink said, crossing his arms.

“Tis a showman thing.”

“Showman?”

“Oh! Would you like to see a show?!”

“Not really. I was in the middle of–”

Ace clapped his hands together cutting Ink off, his staff forming between his palms as he pulled them apart. He twirled his staff like a baton before stamping it down into the snow and pulling his top hat off his head, taking a slight bow before beginning, “A magic show! For the fabulous Encre!”

Ace began to perform his dazzling illusions. As real as reality, yet as mad as a dream. He swept up beside Ink and before Ink could say a word, slipped his scarf right over his head and turned it a kaleidoscope of brown butterflies. Ink went to protest, but a butterfly zipped over top of his mouth and turned into a brown piece of duct tape. The rest of the butterflies froze, falling to ice cubes on the ground before bursting into tiny glass shards that glimmered with little lights.

“Butterflies were not meant for the underground! How unfortunate. The terms and conditions said nothing about turning to glass, however! Then again, I did not read them. Alas, now I must clean this all up.” Ace spun back around Ink, standing over top of the pile of glass shards.

Ink shouted, but his words came out as muffled gibberish. He tried to pull the duct tape off, but it refused to budge. He waved his arms around, exasperated.

“What’s that dear sir? You wish to see more magic tricks? Well, I wish to perform more as well!” Ace spread his arms out, the glass shards levitating off the ground around him before spinning into a small ball and transforming into a lightbulb above Ace's fingertips. He caught it out of the air, studying it closely, before looking back up at Ink.

“I would put this above my head and say I do so happen to have an idea, but that would be terribly cliché, would it not?”

“Mphfffff!”

“I wholeheartedly agree! I’ll put it inside my mouth instead!”

Ace slipped the lightbulb between his teeth, smiling deviously.

“Now dear sir,” he said with zero hindrance, despite the lightbulb clamped between his teeth. “It is a well-known fact that when one puts a lightbulb inside their mouth, it shall go in quite fine and then never ever come out again in one piece! Today I am here to prove that theory wrong and promote the putting of light bulbs in your mouth everywhere!” Ace let out a small laugh before quickly inhaling the lightbulb.

Ink’s eyes narrowed, giving up his attempts to talk through the duct tape.

“Where ever has it gone? Ah! I know!” Ace reaches a hand inside his left eye socket and pulls the lightbulb into the place his heart-shaped pupil should have been.

“And now to turn it on!”

With a slight flick of his wrist, Ace summoned an egg out of midair, then cracked it against the nearest tree. From the cracked shell sprang a toaster, which Ace caught in his hands as though he had done this many a time. He quickly plugged the toaster into the tree and waited a few seconds, but nothing seemed to happen.

Ink watched, both baffled and annoyed, only able to express his feelings through a few grunts and shakes of his head. Ink had seen many things over his life, AUs full of nothing but Sanses, characters made of watermelons, atrocious crossovers, but nothing quite as strange as this.

“Oh, I see what I’m doing wrong! Forgive me, dear sir, I have never used a toaster in my life! I run solely off of white chocolate!” Ace unplugged the toaster from the tree and threw it as far as he could muster. “Farewell, dear toast maker. I shall miss thee.”

He reached inside the small red pouch on his shirt, barely bigger than a golf ball, and pulled a full sized hair dryer.

Why do you have a hairdryer?! Ink shouted, his eyes wide, but it simply came out as “Wff duh vu hvv a her dyr?!”

“For this, dear sir, why else.” Ace put the end of the hairdryer up to his eye and turned it on. It wasn’t plugged into anything, the cord dangling around Ace's ankles. As the hairdryer whirred to life, the light bulb flickered on.

Ace pulled the hair dryer away, making it disappear into a flurry of little pink sparkles before taking a long bow, one of his eyes now made of a little yellow glowing light bulb.

Ink clapped sarcastically.

“Why thank you! Thank you! Truly an amusing time we've had here today!” He pranced over to Ink, patting him on the head twice. When Ink tried to grab him, his entire vision spun around and he was suddenly facing the complete opposite direction.

“Now, now, that’s no way to treat someone who just performed for you.”

Ink turned on his heels, looking around for Ace, but he was nowhere to be seen. The piece of duct tape had vanished.

“Farewell, dear Ink, until you wish for another magic show!”

The voice came from nowhere and echoed throughout the trees before fading into nothingness. On the ground, there was a small paper card. Ink bent over and picked it up, flipping it open. Inside was a tiny brush, smaller than a thumbtack, taped to the inside of the card with a small heart and delicate cursive handwriting: I believe this belonged to you?

#undertale #chancetale fanfic #chancetale writing #Ace and Ink #Chancetale fic #Fanfic #undertale au #Please dont eat lightbulbs

44 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Stupid For You, Chapter 1 (Crygi/Jankie/Jaida x Nicky) - Metaluna

A/N: Hi, everyone! I’ve been having horrific writer’s block for Wasteland, Baby and along the way started writing this! It’s a nice change of pace from writing about the end of the world!

Summary: It’s the summer before Gigi goes to college, and she decides it’s time to take a job at a local amusement park. There, she meets Crystal, a beautiful girl that she with bonds over the anxiety of the service industry. Almost immediately, Gigi gets it BAD for Crystal. Meanwhile, Jackie definitely ISN’T gay. She likes men. Only. Men. What happens when a beautiful girl named Jan comes into the picture? And lastly, Nicky flirts with anything with a pulse. Jaida falls for anyone who gives her attention. This is going to be one interesting summer.

Working at an amusement park the summer before college seemed like such a cliché. But, Gigi needed money, and a job was a job. It was either that, or working in a cafeteria at a performing arts camp, and she wasn’t about to serve chicken nuggets to obnoxious theatre kids all day. Between the two, she figured that working at Paradise Isle would be a much better first job.

It wasn’t all bad. At least she got to pick what job she wanted. As someone with immense anxiety, the thought of lifeguarding or working rides was out of the question. After hearing horror stories about working custodial and foods from her older sister, she’d settled on sales. Mainly because it was the only thing left to choose from, besides games, but Gigi knew she didn’t have the personality to get people to waste their money on games that were probably impossible to win.

The night before, Gigi barely slept. She was so nervous about her first job. She looked in the mirror at her tired eyes. While lying awake in bed, she went back in forth in her head on whether or not she should wear makeup, and if she did how much. After looking at herself, she decided a full face was in order.

After finishing her makeup, she made her way to her closet. Five identical outfits hung next to each other. They were absolutely hideous. No matter how good her makeup skills were, she was going to look ridiculous. The polyester shirt looked like one that the uncle that nobody likes would wear to the family reunion. It was a blue polyester polo shirt that was an obnoxious shade of light blue with palm trees on it. In the corner, it had the logo of the park. The polo did not fit Gigi well, and made her slender frame look like a box. To complete the outfit, the shorts were the same loud color as the collar of the polo. Just like the shirt, the shorts were too big. She tied her belt tightly around her, but she could fit both legs into one leg hole.

The finishing touch was her name badge. It featured an extremely unflattering photo, Gigi was pretty sure she was about to blink in it. Across the bottom it said GEORGIANA GOODE, SALES. The only people who called her by her full name were her grandparents, and her mom the time she had found her daughter sneaking back into the house one night after a party.

Gigi laid out the map with directions on her center console. She knew where the park was, she and her sister grew up going ever summer, but the employee areas were a mystery to her. Considering that she had a horrible sense of direction, she wanted to give herself extra time for when she inevitably got lost.

Eventually, she found her way. She was incredibly thankful that she only had a short walk to the HR office, because that means there was no possible way she could get lost. Once she was inside of the office, a receptionist instructed her to go into the conference room. There were two rows of chairs set up. The chairs looked cold and uncomfortable, the kind that would be found in a grade school classroom. There was an empty chair next to a girl with black hair and brown eyes in the back row.

“Is this seat taken?”

The girl gestured for her to sit.

“I’m Gigi.”

“Jackie.”

“Nice to meet you, Jackie. What’s your job going to be?”

“Rides. You?”

“Sales.”

“Is this your first summer at good ol’ Paradise Isle?”

“Yeah, it is. How about you?”

“No. This is year three for me.”

Gigi raised her eyebrows. “So you like it here?”

“Oh, hell no. This place sucks. But, I get a lot of hours and can save money for when I’m at college. That’s what’s keeps most of us here.” Jackie saw Gigi’s nervous expression. “So, the work here is terrible. But, you will meet some of the best people you will find here. There’s nothing like bonding with a group of people over getting yelled at things that are vastly above your pay grade.”

“Jackie!” a voice called. A tall, statuesque girl sat on Jackie’s other side.

“Gigi, this is Jaida. Jaida, this is Gigi. Gigi’s fresh blood. She’s going to be joining you in sales.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jaida began. “Listen. I don’t what all my girl Jackie has told you, but this place kinda sucks. But, the people are great.”

“Yeah she mentioned that. Why does this place suck so much?”

“Literally everything,” a voice chimed in. “Get ready to spend all day in the heat getting yelled at about things that aren’t your fault, and management that never has any idea what the hell is going on. It’s hell. I’m Heidi by the way.”

Before the meeting began, Gigi became acclimated with the others in the room with her. She learned Heidi was also returning to games. There was girl who was also new, named Widow who was going to games. Gigi met a girl with a French accent named Nicky who was hired in rides.

“Brita!” all of the returning workers squealed as a very tall girl entered the room.

“Girls, this is Brita. She is an icon. That’s all you need to know.”

“Jaida, you’re too kind,” Brita said, grasping to imaginary pearls. She continued exchanging pleasantries with all of the veteran workers.

A bubbly looking blonde enthusiastically made her way into the room, and dramatically plopped next to Gigi.

“Hi, there! I’m Jan. It’s my first year. I’m going to be in sales!” With the confidence that Jan had walking into the room, Gigi was surprised that it was Jan’s first summer, too.

“Me, too!”

Jackie awkwardly introduced herself. “Hi. I’m um. I’m Jackie.”

“Hi! Oh my gosh this, is so exciting. I’m just really happy to be here!”

“You won’t be after today,” Brita warned. Jan frowned.

“Don’t scare the poor girl. We all remember our first summer. We were so full of hope… before we were dead inside,” Jaida laughed.

“One last seat. Who’s gonna fill it?” Brita’s voice was full fake wonderment.

Just as she questioned it, a girl nervously made her way through the door. She had red hair, but Gigi could tell it was dyed. Gigi was surprised the girl got away with it, considering upon getting hired, she had to hire a contract to keep a natural looking appearance. Even though she didn’t think it was possible, this girl looked like she had more makeup on than Gigi did. The girl nervously sat down in the last seat available, the one right in front of Gigi.

“Hi,” Gigi began. “I’m Gigi. Is this your first summer?”

The girl smiled. “Yes! It is! I’m Crystal. I’m games, how about you?”

“Sales.”

Crystal and Gigi got to know each other better. They both had just graduated high school. Crystal had attended Gigi’s rival high school. They had playful banter about the rivalry. It turned out they were both going to attend the same university in the fall. They had just started talking about their majors when a woman entered.

“Hello there, welcome! My name is Michelle Visage, owner of Paradise Isle. I take great pride in this park, as it has been in my family for three generations. I think that this summer is going to be one for the books. We’ve got so many new hires, as well as a lot of familiar faces.”

Gigi zoned out as Michelle went on more about the mission statement of the park. The rest of the orientation was a blur. There were some safety videos, as well as some videos that were borderline propganda showing how great of a workplace it was. In one of the videos, Gigi spotted her sister in the background and smiled.

Once all of the videos were over, Michelle said, “Alright. Trainers, once you find your trainees, take them on a tour. Give them a rundown of the area, and what they’re going to be doing. You all have your training guides so you know what to cover. And again, to all our new hires, welcome!”

“See ya around,” Crystal said as she got up to join the Heidi and Widow.

Brita and Jaida got up and stood next to Gigi and Jan.

“Looks like you’re with us. Welcome to hell,” Brtta said with an overdramatic evil laugh.

“Don’t scare the poor girls! So, I’m going to be training you. The management apparently got really drunk together and decided it would be a good idea to make this one,” she motioned to Brita, “a trainer. That’s why there’s two of us. She’s shadowing me. How do you guys feel about… everything?”

Jan’s smiled so widely it appeared to take up most of her face. “I’m so excited! I used to spend all my summers here with my friends, so it’s kind of full circle to work here this summer.”

“I love the enthusiasm,” Jaida said. “How about you, Gigi, how are you feeling?”

“Honestly? Nervous.”

“Chile, is this your first job?” She nodded. “Jan?” Jan also nodded.

Jaida comfortingly put her hand on Gigi’s back. “As much shit as we talk about this place, it’s not all bad. You saw how close all of us are. We really are a big family here. Oh, and, between this and serving food to theatre kids all day? This is definitely better.”

“What’s wrong with theatre kids? I’m a theatre kid!” Jan whined.

“As a fellow theatre kid,” Brita began. “Everything.”

The trainers walked the trainees to the front of the park. Even though Gigi had spent just as much time as Jan, if not more, in the park with her sister growing up, the entire park felt different. The operating season wasn’t going starting for three more days. Because of this, the entire park was eerily quiet, which was a stark contrast to the loud music and screaming children that normally filled the air.

“Jan, I know you said you used to come here a lot how about you, Gigi?” Brita questioned.

“Oh I used to come here a ton with my older sister. She actually spent her summers between college working here. She did rides, but since she’s five years older than me.“

While on the tour, the four girls got to know each other better. Gigi learned that Jaida was studying political science, and that it was the summer before her senior year, meaning it would be her last year at the park. Brtta was going into her junior year. Jan and Brita realized that they were in the same musical theatre program at the same university.

“What are you going to study, Gigi?” Jan asked.

“Fashion design. My parents wanted me to have something to fall back on, so I’m double majoring in public relations, too.”

“Wow, I could never. I’m just ready to sing and dance my way through college.”

“Turn here,” Jaida instructed, leading them into the staff entrance of one of the shops.

Once inside, Gigi was surprised that the store already was completely set up. The shirts were neatly folded on tables, and absolutely nothing was out of place.

“This is the only time it’s going to look this nice,” Brita said taking a seat on the floor which caused everyone to follow suit.

Brita explained to Jan and Gigi that there were three stores that they could work at. One was the main store that they were standing in. The second store was a candy shop that sold caramel apples. Lastly, there was the shop where guests could buy their overpriced ride photos. She then went on to explain that at nighttime, there were also carts that sold products that glowed.

The group then went over to one of the registers. Brita took her time explaining how the POS worked, answering any questions along the way, making sure to reiterate that in order to use a season pass discount, they had to show a photo ID. Gigi thought that it seemed easy enough. Both Jan and Gigi got to practice ringing up fake transactions.

“Now let’s have some practice. We’re going to roleplay . Jan you’re going first,” Jaida said picking up a shopping basket. She went through the store and haphazardly threw objects into her basket. She came up to the counter.

Brita and Gigi took a step behind Jan as Jaida walked up to the counter.

“Hi! How’s your day in the park going?” Jan asked.

“It would be going better, if it wasn’t so busy, and everything wasn’t so freakin’ expensive! My babies are both crying in their stroller, and my husband and I haven’t stopped fighting!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that, ma’am! I hope that your day gets better soon. Oh my gosh, this shirt is so cute it’ll totally bring out your eyes. This is one of my favorites that we have. Your total is going to be 25 dollars.”

“Oh, I have a season pass, so that means I get a discount, right?”

“Yes! You’ll save twenty percent today. Can I just see your ID with that, please?”

“I don’t have it with me. It’s in the stroller with my worthless husband and my babies.”

“Unfortunately, you need to have one in order to receive the discount.”

“That’s bullshit. I literally just got my discount and no one asked for my ID.”

“I understand that sometimes my fellow hosts don’t follow the rules, but unfortunately, both of us can get in trouble if I give you the discount, and I don’t really think that getting in trouble is worth five dollars, do you?”

Jaida crossed her arms. “I suppose not.”

Brita clapped. “Good job, Jan!”

“You’re a natural!”

Jan took a fake bow. Brita and Jaida switched positions. Gigi nervously made her way to the register.

Gigi’s heart was beating fast, even though she knew it was just a roleplay. “Hi.”

Brita raised an eyebrow, and with a pleasant tone said, “Hi! How’s it going?”

“Good.”

Silence. Gigi had no idea what to say or what to do.

“Uhh. Are you having a good day today?”

She sighed. “I’m really trying to, but The Jinn’s broken. That really stinks because my little Abby is finally tall enough to ride, and she was really looking forward to it.”

“Oh uhh. Sorry. Do you a season pass?”

“What?”

“For the discount?”

“Oh! Yeah, here you go.” Brita flashed Gigi a pass.

Without thinking, Gigi applied the discount.

“Pause,” Jaida said. “Gigi, you’re a little stiff… But don’t worry about that, it’ll come with time. But you forgot something really important.”

“Shit. I forgot to ask for an ID.”

“And that’s okay,” she said. “Just make sure you don’t forget. The management will let it slide for a while but that’s a fireable offense, so just always keep that in mind. But overall, nice job, you rang up everything perfectly.”

After a few more roleplay scenarios, Gigi began to feel more comfortable. She was still stiff, but at least she talked more. Still, she was envious of Jan, and how natural it all came to her.

Halfway through the day, it was time for lunch. Jaida and Brita guided the new trainees into the breakroom. Gigi didn’t know what to expect, but she didn’t expect every staff member area to be as dingy and decrepit as it was. The rest of the park was impeccably clean, and she’d assumed that the staff areas would be, as well.

Once they clocked out for their lunch, Gigi heard her name being called. It was Crystal.

“Come sit!”

Gigi made her way to the cold metal table. The chair was extremely uncomfortable, but she it just felt nice to sit.

“How’s it going?” Gigi asked.

“It’s… going! I’m glad we get more practice. I’m… a little overwhelmed.” Crystal almost looked like she was going to cry.

“Let’s walk,” Gigi took Crystal’s hand. “What’s up?”

They took a seat at one of the outdoor picnic tables. No one else was outside, because they were too busy taking advantage of the air conditioning.

Crystal started tearing up. “I’m just overwhelmed. It’s a lot of information and I feel like Widow is understanding it a lot faster than I am.”

“First off,” Gigi began. “It’s your first day, you aren’t going to be perfect. Second, stop crying. Your makeup is way too pretty for that.”

Crystal smiled. “You think my makeup’s pretty?”

“I think you’re all pretty.”

“Awe, I think you’re gorgeous.” Crystal took Gigi’s hands. “Thank you. For calming me down.”

“Anytime. Also don’t beat yourself up. I’m super overwhelmed, too. During training, I did something that would normally get me fired.”

Crystal laughed. “You’re doing amazing sweetie.”

Gigi and Crystal resumed their conversation from earlier. She learned that Crystal was going to study graphic design. They were both excited to move out of their hometowns and to start their lives. Halfway through their conversation, Gigi realized just how pretty Crystal was, and how nicely her hair flowed past her shoulders. And how funny she was, and how nice she smelled. How soft her lips looked… Shit. It was hard to focus on Crystal gushing about why Harry was the best member of One Direction when Gigi could only focus on the girl’s lips. Thankfully, Crystal’s lunch was over.

Gigi had a moment of bravery and pulled out her phone. “Hey Crystal, what’s your number? We should definitely hang out sometime soon!”

“Oh, totally!” Crystal took Gigi’s phone and put her number in. “See you around!”

The contact said “Crystal.” Totally normal. Next to her name was the sparkle emoji and the double pink heart.

This was enough to send Gigi into a gay panic. The rest of her lunch, Gigi just sat at her table. Unable to touch her sandwich. She decided to text Crystal so that she could have her number.

Hey girl, it’s Gigi!

Gigi reread the text seven times, and debated changing it. Did it sound too enthusiastic? In another moment of blind courage, she added the pink sparkly heart after and hit the SEND button.

Jaida, Brita, and Jan made their way outside.

“Time to go,” Brita announced.

The rest of the day was a blur. Gigi and Jan were shown the other stores, and some of the products that were carried. They were also shown where the glow carts were, and where they were normally stationed.

“Tomorrow, we’ll show you guys how to stock. Super easy, hard work but I really enjoy it,” Jaida said as she was walking Jan and Jaida back to the parking lot.

While getting into her Jeep, Gigi saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye. She looked over and saw Crystal waiting on the curb, on the phone.

“No, it’s okay Mom. I can walk, no big deal! Love you, bye.”

“Hey,” Gigi said driving next to the car. “Need a ride?”

“No, that’s okay! It’s not far!”

“Get in!”

Once inside her car, Crystal said, “Thank you so much. It’s not far but my feet hurt.”

“Mine too. I couldn’t let you just sit on the curb like that.” Gigi passed Crystal her aux cord.

After methodically scrolling through her phone, Crystal landed on a song. It was a song by One Direction that Gigi wasn’t familiar with.

“Sorry. I’m a One Direction stan first, and a human second.”

Gigi smiled. God, she was so cute when she sang along to the song. Crystal realized that she was looking at her, and dramatically started serenading Gigi. “Oh! Turn just right up here. I’m the third house.”

“Wow, you do live close. Do you have a car?”

“I don’t… drive,” Crystal admitted sheepishly.

“Well, I can give you rides if you want, it’s really no big deal. It’s on the way home for me, actually!” That was a lie, it was in the complete opposite direction.

“That’d be great! I can pay you in coffee, validation, and love!”

“I’ll take it. Bye, Crystal!”

“Bye, gorgeous!”

Gigi got a text as she pulled out of Crystal’s long driveway.

See you tomorrow! Followed by the same heart next to her name.

On the way home, Gigi drove silently. She hadn’t bothered to connect her phone to the aux cord. She was too busy overanalyzing every single interaction she’d had that day. Gigi learned a lot on her first day of training, but the biggest takeaway she had was that she had a crush on Crystal.

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #jankie #jaida x nicky #crystal methyd #gigi goode #jan sport #jackie cox #nicky doll #jaida essence hall #heidi n closet #widow von du #aiden x brita #teen au #stupid for you #metaluna #s12 #submission

33 notes · View notes

punkandsnacks · 4 years

Text

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Fifteen; Anticipation.

Author: @punk-in-docs & @adamsnackdriver

Also on AO3-

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: No warnings in this chap- animal shapeshifting but thas about it really-

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

The very next days seemed to crawl by. As if time itself was dragging through claggy thick treacle.

Nothing moved quickly and Iris knows it’s because she’s anticipating the weeks-end more than any other event she’s ever awaited on in her life.

More than Yuletide morning. More than her birthday. More than buying a new book or taking an early morning walk all to herself. More than a sunny frosted morning where everything seems to glimmer as if crafted from gold, or seeing wildflowers dot the woods with their colour in spring.

She’s waiting on that much anticipated midnight with baited breath. Every second closer to it is both torture and sweet blessed relief.

She fulfils her remaining days with a permanent smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Even her acetous mother remarks upon it. She tells her daughter the fine manner of her engagement must be bringing her joy. Iris bites her lip to keep from grinning.

She clutched her romantic secret all that tighter to her chest. Moulded it like warm clay to clasp around her glad heart.

Mother and Maratella insist on setting a date. And getting her whole ‘bouquet’ of daughters measured for their gowns.

Posy and Flora for they are of course to be bridesmaids, and Iris, of course, for her bridal gown. They get up a merry party to Pembleton one fine clear morning.

The snow and frost govern the landscape once more. Ebbing back in after the recent rain. The brown frost-hardened hills and trees and fields. Governed under the fierce cyclops of a mustard sun blazing in the effortless blue of the cobalt sky. It made Iris think of robins eggs, and the golden buttery buds of spring. When the bulbs and shoots blossom up through the earth with their sickly scent and colour.

It is a fine clear day and it indicates that the end of the long bitter winter approaches. The cold is as ferocious as ever so Maratella insists upon them not catching a chill in the vile icy winds. Shes most kind as to stop to collect the Misses Ashton’s in the Hux’s second largest coach. They are all bid to the dressmakers in the high street. Along the medieval shamble of barrel window and oak timber shops.

The news of her engagement spread far and wide. Before her boots have even touched the cobbles, stepping out the coach, their party is virtually mobbed by matrons and ladies of their acquaintance.

Iris had in mind a silly image of them prowling at the pavements like baying wolves, chasing after the muddy churn of the carriage wheels; anything for to first seize that newest scrap of gossip.

Posy and Flora ladle up all the attention. As does Mama. Proudly boasting - along with Maratella - of the suitability of such a fine match. Iris wants to roll her eyes as Flora greatly exaggerated the romantic manner of Hux’s proposition. She gabbled about a room full of red roses and how Iris wept tears of delight as he swept her into his arms.

The ravenous eyes turn toward her. “May we see the ring, Miss Ashton?” Comes out of numerous smiling mouths like a chorus of cawing seagulls. Iris feels like they’ll rip her glove off themselves if she doesn’t.

Unused to such attention, she blushes as she slips off her grey calfskin glove. Wrenching it off her hand. There is a troupe of awed gasps as they admire the diamond set in the gold band.

Iris feels as if she’s sticking her hand into a dangerous animals maw. Like some exhibit at a zoo. Feeding her hand to the rabid starving tiger’s. There’s so much gasping and in taking of breath it’s a wonder they don’t suck her up. And take half the street with them.

Luckily, Maratella fusses that they’ll be late if they don’t make haste. She then proudly utters that the ladies five, their happy little bridal party, are off to Madame Larousse’s dressmaking parlour for a wedding gown. And Mrs Ashton and Mrs Hux are to see to both having new hats to mark such a happy occasion.

The flock of ravenous ladies ceases. Satisfied with their mauling of Iris and her news and her engagement ring. The party is able to proceed along the pavement unhindered.

They slip into Madame Larousse’s. Greeted by the lanky, heavily perfumed proprietor herself. She was a tall, ungainly woman with poky shoulders and an always over-rouged complexion. And will always, without fail, exaggerate a mildly French accent to gild her words. For she believes that all the best dressmakers and seamstresses were French.

The tall stretch of Madame claps excitedly and demands to see Iris’ hand when she hears they are here to purchase ribbons and lace and all things fit for a bride. She is whisked away by a very efficient assistant. And stood on a pedestal for the next hour and half.

Iris spends that time with swatches pinned to her. Flapped around her ears. Tucked under her collar. There’s so many back and forth decisions from her mother, it makes her quite dizzy. A tape drawn tight around her so many times to squeeze the stuffing out her. Eventually, they stumble to a conclusion. It was to be a saffron orange.

Flora remarked it made her rather look like a carrot.

Around her they lounge on the chaises provided, clutched around the mirror and the box she’s on, and they drink sweet tea. Brown sugar sprinkled and stirred into the earl grey.

They all pose interjections and opinions and preferences on her. Iris just stands there like a tailors doll. Only half there.

She’s caught sight of a swatch of ruby-wine velvet near her thigh and is stroking it fondly. Remembering Lord Rens exquisite bed coverlet. How it felt under her fingers, it took her ricocheting back to that moment. And it calmed her.

That’s how she can stand all this grousing and prodding. It reminds her of her secret and she nearly faints off that box pedestal.

They settle on a pallid frothy blue silk instead. To better bring out the excellence of her mud and twigs hair. Mama chooses the best silk madame has in stock. Says she will have to fetch more in from her supplier especially. From London.

That causes much excitement for Flora and Posy. They’d never had a dress made from material fetched as far nor from a city as grand as London, before.

Posy had selected a teasing slip of pink silk. Flora, for her more fiery hair, chose a delicate pastel pea green. Iris thinks they’ll look like a platter of French fancy cakes.

Then a pang of something hits through her heart with all the intensity of an arrowhead studding there - she hopes Mama lets Posy and Flora keep their new gowns after she’s gone. She hopes very much. They are the stillest girls in existence but they do deserve nicer things than what they get.

By Madame’s husky drawl of a smoky voice is she brought back into the room, the awful pink pink pink room. Stuffed with velvet chaises and bolster cushions and trimmed fringed oil lamps. Great big fat rosebuds sprout up the wallpaper and flourish across the fabric of the pillows on the settee.

It’s as if the whole room is the summoning of the evil fairy in sleeping beauty. Who commanded swarms of brambles and thorns and swamping plants to take over. That was this room to the last pink thread - only it was instead summoned to contain every incarnation of pink roses as far as the eye could see.

Her ears burn hot and pink as Madame talks of London. Relating the gossip back to someone in the village. Matter of fact, a certain Lord-

“Apparantly, you know he sent that tall turbaned butler of his up to London just yesterday...” Madame hushes to them in her hazy terribly-affected French.

“Sent him to Mayfair.” She grins crookedly as she measures from Iris’s hip to her hem. Barking orders at Suzy, her ever suffering assistant.

Maratella seems most diverted. “Pray whatever for?” She leans forwards. Perching her half eaten violet macaroon on her saucer.

“He sent him to Bond Street. You know there is an establishment there that supplies jewels to the palace. Apparantly he came back having purchased something.” Madame says.

“Pray why would be send his butler all that way?” Flora asks.

“Why, Miss Smith told me so this morning; she suspects Lord Ren has left his heart behind in Bavaria. He is soon to quit Hellford. She heard Clarence Pennington’s butler say that his housekeeper, Mrs Jones states that half his house is shut. And the staff vacated.” Maratella excites them all. Flora and Posy are mortified at such news.

“The house is emptying. And Lord Ren shall soon be gone.” She adds.

Mrs Ashton smiles gladly. “He is journeying back home to his castle I wager...” She delights. The spitting smug nature of her tone was clear. Good riddance.

“Who must he be besotted with I wonder?” Posy asks indelicately.

Iris tries not to be twice as smug. Thinking that she is that very woman.

He goes back to his castle and I will gladly go with him, she thinks.

The giddiness and joy roils in her stomach like golden champagne. Fizzes through her veins and she has to hide a smile. Biting her cheek hard.

“Well. if he is shortly to leave our shores. I’m willing to bet he’ll break a fair few maidens hearts in this county and the next over. Such a striking gentleman. The young ladies will certainly feel his loss most keenly.” Maratella comments in sadness for all the female admirers he’d amassed. They’d all be heart sore now he’s going away.

“You’re blushing Iris.” Flora sing-songs at her. Pointing it out. “Thoughts of your intended sweetheart?” She ribs her sister.

“You are a colossal pest. Flora.” Iris smiles at her. Matter of fact. Her little bug of a sister is quite right. She is thinking about the man she’ll marry.

Only another agonising hour whilst Mama and Maratella select their hats for the occasion. But Iris can atleast sit down and drink some much too sweet earl grey tea. Doesn’t have to stand on that wretched box for another hour.

Eventually their purchases were rung up and settled. Flora and Posy love Iris very much because she buys them two new ribbons each and some velvet buttons for their bonnets. They’re singing her praises as they quit the shop. Trilling like a pair of canaries about their gowns. Iris was glad to spend some of her pin money on them before she leaves for good.

She’s fully appraised of the weight of her actions. And the serious consequence of them. It would be ruinous for her mother and father. It would be a disaster for her sisters. But atleast she was of age and she could marry. Whatever else others might say of her - she fully believes Lord Ren’s intentions are honourable.

They can’t scandalise her for marrying Kylo. Just censure her for running away from Hux and jilting him. She’s certain he’ll recover amicably enough. He doesn’t love her. And his mother is suitably well connected. She could snap her fingers and summon another willing bride. She’s only sorry it can’t be her.

She’s despondent to remark upon the pain she’ll be causing hers and Hux’s family. But in time, they will recover. Posy would do well and Flora will follow in her footsteps. Mother will see to it they catch fine husbands when the time is right. Their mother is most skilled in that area.

The party journeys along Pembleton street. Maratella stops by the haberdashers to seek after some ribbons. Mama is in the milliners seeking after a new pair of occasion gloves. Posy and Flora amble slowly along the street with their sister. Watching the carriages and coaches trundle by. Various riders on horseback too.

A loud nickering snort behind her makes her turn. She can hardly hide the smile that quickly grows across her face when she catches sight of a lone rider on a huge stocky black stallion. Both man and his mount are furiously muscled beasts.

His Lordly attire is its usual. All black. Save for his white shirt and red cravat. The great overcoat frames his wide shoulders and his bulky chest. His boots gleam in the meagre sun. His grin tips up when he catches sight of her.

He looks terribly smug and Iris’s heart feels like it’s trying to ram out the cage of her ribs. This handsome lordly man who stole it away, sets it pounding freely and rampant in her chest.

She tries not to arouse the suspicion of her sisters. They were much too curious and meddling for their own good. She wants to protect her secret and she thinks she’s a proficient enough liar to accomplish it.

They burst into fits of giggles on seeing him. He rides Erland closer to where they are stood and dismounts. His strong boots thud into the frosty mud. His wool coat laps and swathes his body. He tethered himself to Erland. Massive gloved hand gripping the reins. The creature didn’t seem to have any care for wandering off. He just wished to see Iris - Kylo empathises with the horse. He rather feels the exact same.

Iris, Posy and Flora all curtsey to him. He bids them all a greeting. She bows her neck and when she looks up. His eyes fondly fix on her. Warm in the sun. The contrast of him is astonishing. Milky creamy complexion, bordered by the onyx shadow of his hair and eyes. Utter opposites in the juxtaposition.

“Miss Ashton. A pleasure to see you again. I trust you are still well recovered. You look very radiant this morning.” He comments. Walking Erland just that tiny step closer.

The obstinate animal his stallion is, reaches his nose out and snorts into her hand. Nudges her glove for pats and scritches of affection behind his ears. She doesn’t care that she’ll get horse hair on her. She strokes him.

“You are most kind. Your lordship. I am very well.” She smiles slightly. The pretty kiss of rose on her cheeks.

“I need not tell you Erland is pleased to make your acquaintance once more.” He remarks starkly. Hint of irony not lost on her. Erland almost nudges her to fall over with his big strong head. She laughs.

“Your ears must’ve been burning. Lord Ren. For we were just discussing you...” Posy flirts. Batting her lashes at the man.

Hands crossed in front of her. Like she was a genteel little doe. Iris glares narrowed silver dagger eyes at her sister to stop displaying herself so readily. As ever, the little vexation pays no attention. Not when there was a hot blooded male around.

Kylo tilts his head. Intrigued. “Is that so, Miss Posy?” He asks.

“We we’re discussing how heart sore all the young ladies hereabouts will be when you quit Hampshire...” Flora tells him.

Kylo takes her confession in his stride. “It’s true. And I am sorry more than I can exclaim to be leaving such carnage and desolation in my wake. But sadly I do return to Bavaria shortly.”

That handsome expression barely betrays a thing. The cold wind flounces and ruffles that wild hair. A tuft of it drifts in his face and tangled in his dark eyeline.

Iris decides in that moment he truly might be an angel sculpted by gods own hand; or a demon designed by the devil himself. She isn’t sure which of those creatures is all the more tempting.

One thing she’s certain of; He’d win that draw of most handsome, every time.

She quivers when those eyes gaze at her. Peels her right out her clothes and down to her goose pimpled skin. Then Posy has to go and open her foolhardy mouth some more...

“We were just helping Iris shop for her bridal gown.” She preens. “And our bridesmaids dresses.” She comments. Speaking as if she wants Kylo to snatch her up and steal her away to Bavaria. Stuff her in his pocket and run off with her.

“I had heard rumour of your engagement...” He lies. Iris is biting the inside of her lip and smiling genially to hide how wide her excitement wishes to make her smile grow.

“Show Lord Ren your engagement ring, Iris!” Flora bounces excitedly. Iris glares. Reminding her of the inappropriate nature of her words.

“Flora. Lord Ren is not interested in such matters. And I’m afraid we’ve already impressed upon too much of his time...” She insists.

Kylo holds out his hand to her. Steps closer so she has to crane her head back just to keep sight of his eyes. “I am certainly interested. And I might add, most eager to see the bauble that decorates such a fine, pretty hand.” He teases.

She decides he was designed by the devil. And lucifer gave him a silver tongue to boot-

Iris slips off her grey glove and gently lays her palm in his.

The way his fingers curl around hers is criminal. She tips her eyes up to his as he shifts closer and admires her ring. A soft smile tugs at his mouth. The gold winks at him in the sun. It’s a pretty delicate morsel. He can’t deny. But plain. Much too plain. Entirely humble as decoration went.

-it’s certainly nothing to the one he’d had Jomar go all the way to London to fetch for her from Bentley & Skinner on Bond Street.

“It is a fine ring. Miss Ashton. Sergeant Hux is the most fortunate man in England to have you as his intended bride. I’m quite envious of his fortuity.” He says. Bowing to lay a kiss on the back of her palm.

His eyes electrify her. He winks at her and she flushes with heat. Blood pressing up in her face.

“I’m sorry to hear of your leaving England. Lord Ren. Such a shame Hellford Park should be quitted before the summer.” She tells him.

Her palm leaving his. Sliding away from the touch of his hand would have made her wretched were it not for the heat in his bronzed eyes. Made a warmer melting shade by the shimmer of the buttery sun. And their shared secret lifts her heart.

“It is a great shame. But I’m eager to return to Ranlor. I’ve missed my homeland a great deal.”

“The rumour in circulation is that you have a certain lady in mind to return home too.” Posy dares most outlandishly. Iris chides her for her brash rudeness.

“Posy!” Iris calls out.

Kylo seems amused by it. “That would he telling. Miss Posy. Not to mention betraying the confidence of the most honourable lady in question.” He smirks at her sister.

Who giggles and blushes like it’s no ones business. His vampiric charms seeping out of his every pore, truly intoxicating to them, Iris can see it’s influence.

“Is she a great beauty? I imagine she is most elegant indeed and very superior and titled in rank and manner. And of great fortune...” Posy digs for more details. Kylo will reveal none.

“Pray. Don’t be impertinent twice-over.” Iris corrects. Posy pulls a vexed face. Shoves her tongue out at her sister.

Kylo’s chuckling. They were entertaining little chits. Relentless. But he admires something about that sparky quality. Iris had the same sense about her - only more sensible and humble.

“She is the singularly, most beautiful creature I’ve ever beheld in all my years.” He promises. “And I cannot wait to have her hand in marriage. She will make me a very blessed and lucky man.” He declares.

“How romantic.” Posy declares in a sigh. Flora dreamily agrees. They’re both veritably Moony eyed. Gazing up at him in wonder as a consequence. A silly girls kryptonite. A handsome and dark romantic man. A Byronic figure to set all the foolish girls swooning at the knees.

Kylo’s eyes sweep across to Iris at a passing glance. He smiles. And it almost undoes her.

“We must be on our way. We’ve availed ourselves of too much of your time. Lord Ren.” Iris says in parting. Trying to herd her vapid sisters away before they flirt anymore.

“We must go. For we are bid to the Hux’s tonight for a celebratory engagement supper.” Posy curtsies boasting as she’s bobbing away.

“Give the Sergeant and his family my warmest regards.” Kylo insists. Knowing what a barb that would be to Hux’s temper.

Iris turns and meets his eyes. Giving him a polite bowed head in parting. When Posy and Flora are otherwise looking elsewhere. She turns back and gives him such a look of longing and delight it makes him grin at her as she walks off down the cobbled pavement.

“Very good to see you again. Your Lordship. Have a pleasant rest of your day.” She insists.

Cajoling her sisters along the path and away before they get any notions. Erland snorts at her as she moved away. She smiles and gladly rubs the flat bone of his nose before she goes. Lord Ren stays standing until she does move away.

Kylo pats his neck, and hauls himself up on his strong stallions back once again. Booted feet in the stirrups. He adjusts on the saddle. Scanning the tumbled windows of the high street proprietors.

In the milliners, he sees a face like sour lemons and thunder glaring out at him. Mrs Ashton’s stony face peering outwards through the glass. Having seen his exchange with all her daughters.

He coaxes Erland into a slow walk. A little nudge in his side. He gives the foul Caroline Ashton his most winning enigmatic smile. And nods civilly in greeting at her as he rides off.

He sees it makes her lips purse in irritation.

Iris can’t resist glancing back at him. She knows those eyes watch her all the way down the street. She can feel them. Two pinpricks of heat, like candles, burning into her shoulder-blades.

It makes her too giddy for words.

They soon catch up with the rest of their party and are whisked away in the Hux carriage. Soaring across the dirty English roads. Mud churning in their wake as cold air and sunshine bounces off the roof.

Mama asks them what Lord Ren. Iris told them he was just politely passing the time of day. She seems satisfied with the answer. Iris fights not to squirm into shivers of desire at the merest intimation and memory of him.

Posy and Flora sing-song his romantic praises all the way home. Mother soon shuts them up with a cross cold stare.

The afternoon seems to fly her by. No sooner than she’s home and she’s readying herself for the dinner they’ll take at the Hux’s residence. Cavenham House.

The not so modest estate in the border of the next county. A gorgeous house if she’s being perfectly honest. Terracotta red bricked exterior, of modern Georgian design. Huge arched white windows. Rococo interior. All gilded with cherubs frolicking on the murky painted ceilings and baroque trim on every door. Rolling scrolls. Frescoes and pastel colours. Gilding, moulding and trompe l’oeils giving the illusion of motion and drama. Raining down from every ceiling.

A handsomely kept garden was also what it was resolutely famous for. Though it would not be pictured to its best quality in this dead winter. Spring will liven it soon. The hardy bright bulbs will crop up through the frost. But for now it remains speckled in snow with only the evergreens surviving.

Iris can see it all as they pull up the long stretch of the torch lit drive. In the coach Maratella was kind enough to send to collect them all.

Once again she was wedged beside Posy and Flora, and their shrill gossiping. Mother and Father opposite. Noiseless and as disagreeing as ever. Silence blazed between them as somber as a churchyard. They were about as animated with each other as two gravestones.

Iris dressed in her navy silk gown with 3/4 sleeves and a sheer white chemisette swirled with stitched white flowers, decorating her shoulders and neck. Meg cleverly weaves that teal ribbon into her hair coiffure again. She finishes the look with pearl droplet earrings and white satin gloves up to her elbows.

They are welcomed inside by stony faced servants in the blue Cavenham livery. Taken into the drawing room to meet their hosts. Maratella had invited some local flavour along also. Everyone’s merry and mingling. Posy offers to play a Handel piece on the Pianoforte before dinner is announced. She does so rather well. Thunks the opening notes in shocking volume but she picks up from that point onwards.

Iris is admiring the scenery from the drawing room window. Even in the dark she can see how lovely the gardens are. It doesn’t dissolve the fact that this house would still be a prison to her. There weren’t bars on the window and she won’t exactly be stitching mailbags - but it will still be her cage.

A handsome cage, she won’t deny. But a cage nonetheless as she mothers the children and lives for planning fine parties to boast of her and her husbands excellence. And slowly becomes a woman of high rank and no substance.

Hux moves to stand by her side, hands folded behind his back. A tall lean column of red, black and white in his ceremonial dress. Medals shining. Hair groomed. Perfectly respectable. Infuriatingly loveless, as always.

“You shall like the gardens in summer. I should think.” He remarks.

“They are most handsome.” She comments. “A fine prospect indeed.” She agrees.

They perfectly form the vision of lovers conversing by candlelight. She can hear Mama and Mrs. Hux cooing proudly behind them. It’s infuriating. Iris can’t spend the rest of her life in a manner such as this; being prodded and manoeuvred and gossiped over like a chess piece on a board.

“I care little for being out of doors. Save for riding with my regiment.” He impresses.

Iris nods. “I am perhaps overfond of walking. I take an excursion each day if I can.” She tells him.

He sniffs. And coldly watches the view before them. “Well. You shall have to make allowances and sacrifices when we are wed. I can’t have you scampering around the countryside when you are with my heir.” He insists.

Iris’s mouth turns dry. She makes little response to his words. He turns away to speak to someone else but she catches his arm to stop him.

“Please I just want to say-“ she starts.

She looks up into his face. The bright copper of his hair and the steel of his eyes. The surety of his rigid auburn brow. She doesn’t dislike him. He’s not an unpleasant man. Just, misguided.

She says what she’s thinking now before she loses the chance. No doubt he’ll think very badly of her when all is done.

“I think well of you. You know. You are a gallant man. Not lacking in honour or credibility. I admire that about you. Hux.” She says. Even if I can’t marry you for it.

He nods. Accepting her words. Then their granite faced butler coughs dryly and announces dinner to the room.

Maratella lets the engaged couple be seated next to each other at dinner. Wanting to encourage the tepid affection brewing between them. Iris doesn’t know what the woman expects from them. They weren’t matched for love but it’s as if that’s what she’s hoping to see blossom.

Maratella is hoping for romance to pass betwixt them.

It could and never will be that. Iris thinks.

Iris remarks inwardly to herself as she sips down her soup a la reine. Served alongside several large golden Bouchée à la reine’s.

The next course is of stewed beef and venison steaks, and a whole champagne poached salmon with slithers of white and black truffles decorating the cooked fish acting as scales.

More seafood came served in the form of fried then boiled sole, heaped in a terrine and a whole platter of pickled crab. A haricott of vegetables and mashed turnips. There was enough food spread on this very grand table, to keep them dining for a fortnight. Mrs Hux organised a feast intended to show off.

She gets everyone to toast to the newlyweds. The gentleman stand to raise their glasses and the ladies stay seated.

The pudding banquet is brought out and quite rightly enough, as she suspected, the whole table is flouncing in ruched fancy french sugar concoctions.

Silken French pies. Syllabubs of lemon and rose and brandy. Ice’s of all flavours. Custard tarts smothered with fat ripe fruit drowning steeped in syrup. Sugar plums and cinnamon and mace laced apple tartlets with baked custard. Iris indulged in some of the tarts and the fruits.

Posy and Flora fall upon creams and dainty fancies like hungry wolves. And eat until they are stuffed.

The ladies retire to the parlour for music and snifters of sweet ruby port wine. Iris indulges in a glass as her sisters and various other young accomplished ladies take to the pianoforte to sing and show off. Posy drags a reluctant Iris up to sing whilst she plays. She grumbles but bends to her sisters will.

She gives a shortly sweet chorus of ‘Let no man steal your thyme’ for it was the only song she could sing comfortably well.

She never much liked performing for amusement. Some girls were a glutton for it. Iris is no such a one. She stands with one hand on the pianoforte and the other folded behind her hip. She sings her choruses and smiles meekly at the small scattering of applause offered for her when she is done.

She heads back to her spot on the settee. Maratella is remarking to her mother how divine it will be to have a songbird in the house once again. Iris sits back in her seat and spends the rest of her evening in silence. Though she wants to say a great deal.

The evening slips past well enough. Night spills past her relatively quick. Another day gone. Another day closer to her happiness. She’s almost too giddy to contain it.

Then the time comes to bid goodnight to their hosts;

Iris watches as Hux fondly kisses her hand. Seeing her off out the rich gilded foyer out into the black black night. Sky so dark it’s a whole void studded with freckling stars. Cold shudders at the shivering trees.

She wants to say something impactful and veiled. To speak of her regard for him. She cannot think how best to do so. She swallows down her thick tongue. Remains a coward.

She can only hope in time, after the wake of her scandal settles. That Hux will find someone better suited than her. Maybe even find someone that he can love? She prays deeply for that little happy happenstance.

She is not so unfeeling as to wish a joyless life on the man who just wasn’t correct for her.

Her teeth grits with all the things unsaid. “I hope you’ll be happy.” She smiles lightly. He thinks her to be referring to the engagement that stands between them.

“I’m sure.” He comments. “Goodnight.” Is his curt response.

It doesn’t incense her. Tonight it vexed her. Caused a tiny crease between her brows. It seemed such fickle words to part on. But she leaves them be-

Let’s those words spirit up into the quiet undisturb of the night. The heavens can have those words. Iris wishes it could have been more. But how appropriate is it that even his parting words are found wanting.

She gets into the coach after curtseying a polite goodbye to Brendol and Maratella. She says something sweet to Iris about her singing. Iris cringes a smile. She won’t be thinking such good things about her shortly. She imagines she’ll curse her name for all of hell and heaven to hear. She’ll wake the sleeping dead cursing the day Iris was born.

Iris thanks her. For her hospitality. For her kindness. Under all her airs and graves, she’s a fairly nice woman and she should find a more amicable daughter-in-law to crow over.

She slots herself into the coach beside her sisters. Listens to the door slam shut. The rattle and crunch of it shifts on the gravel. Rumbled away up the long elegant curve of the drive.

Iris twists to look back. She isn’t sure why she wanted too. But they weren’t a dismal family. And she’s sorry for the pain and offence she’ll cause to them all.

She watches Hux’s stiffly-posed, regimented figure. Shadowed against the night. The scarlet of his blood coat. The ice white of his breeches stained blue, glowing in the night. The stars glimmer off his shining boots and off the pierce of his pale eyes. She wishes him well. She truly does.

They trundle on home. Full of food and as usual with Posy and Flora spouting gossip on and on endlessly. Mother chiming in. Father and Iris retain their silence. Eyes cross firing in a glance when they all agree on something cruel and senseless.

Westwell’s windows emerge gold out the dark. Surrounded by the bustling trees. All of the landscape is merely dark moulded shapes. Looming and shifting in the shadows. The moon casts washy film of silver to try and spill over the cover of smeared clouds.

They are just to the drive when a small dark shape flits overhead. Iris looks upwards, and sees the definable shape of a bird landing on her windowsill. She smiles giddily.

She exits the coach quick. Bidding them goodnight and rushing off up to her room. Her skirts picked up in her hands. Mama remarks how odd it is. Posy shrugs and supposes she’s got a secret missive to read from Hux.

Iris absolutely flies for her door. Twists the handle and launches herself in the room. Shutting the door firmly after herself. Pressing it with both hands flat to the wood.

The warmth of the fire hits her. She doesn’t even pay mind to the tiny crack of her open window. Or her swaying curtains that shift on the breeze.

She can only focus on the huge frame of a dashing vampire stood fireside. One elbow resting on the mantel as he gazes into the flames.

His big frame swallows up the whole room and strangled out all the air. The ochre of the blazing flames captured his skin. Turned that milky-cream of his complexion into pale fire.

She smiles and he does too. “Thank goodness it’s you. I was worried I’d scare seven shades out of your maid.” He drawls softly so his voice doesn’t carry. Smirk curling at the corners.

She crosses the distance. Her feet eat up the floorboards quick. She avails herself of an embrace. Throws herself into his arms.

The cloak of his fire warmed clothing envelopes her as his arms do. He smells like the damp snap of frosty woodland and the acid tang of woodsmoke. The night air of wild outdoors clings to every inch and fibre of his clothes. Swirls about him like a clouding tempest.

He chuckles as she gets herself in his hold. The deep bass of his voice rumbled through her skin and sinking to her bones. Her cheek mashed to his sternum. His arms close around her. Stroking her body through the rasping silk of her dress.

One big warmed hand clasps the back of her neck as the other holds the back of her waist. His nose nudges into the crush of her muddy hair. Her scent teases him just as much as his had, to her. Lavender and sage. The plain spice and calm floral scent.

“I could feel the happiness pouring off you as you alighted the stairs.” He smiles. She steps back and gazed up at him.

“How pretty you look tonight. Dove. You’re exquisite in silk.” He remarks when she steps away. Hand toying with the loose tawny curl at her ear. The sapphire dark of her dress suits her very well. Throws her complexion into brilliance. Does something to make the tones of her hair look rich.

She always looks ravishing to him.

She blushes. “I missed you all day. Isn’t that mad?” She asks.

“If missing is madness, then I’m out of my sane mind whenever you’re not in my sight.” He promises gently.

Big hands cupping her hot silken neck as he leans down to plant a firm, slanting kiss to her lips. His mouth is cold and he tastes of frosty air and wine.

Kissing him is like kissing someone who just stepped inside, taking shelter from a bitter cold wind.

She’s beginning to wonder if there is some clever addiction woven into his lips. One kiss never seems to be enough. She holds his wrists as he grabs her. Makes her feel small in his arms. She’s lost in his hold. It’s powerfully thrilling.

He breaks the kiss and his thumbs stroke at her cheeks. Her eyes glitter keenly at him. He spies the ring on her finger. The one that doesn’t belong there. It makes him smile.

“I’d like to surmise you snuck in here just to steal a kiss. But I suspect a different motive altogether?” She asks.

He broke into a grin that creases his eyes and bares his teeth in a smile. She was no thoughtless woman; his darling Iris.

She’s always thinking. Always fretting. Always mulling over things in her head.

That was one of the first things that that came to his notice about her. She tended to be introspective about all manner of things in comparison to her acetous mother who spewed vile words. And her daft sisters who spouted out their every dangerously silly thought.

He kisses her for that clever remark- slow and paced and soft. Languid like melting warm honey. Lips curling to hers.

“I do have some news. But kissing you will always my first priority.” He husks against her rosy lips. Her warm cheeks blaze from under his icy fingers.

“The date is set. We must leave tomorrow eve.” He tells her with a smirk.

Her stomach completely soars in giddiness. She doesn’t have to hide her grin here.

“It feels as if I’ve been waiting at eternity to hear those blessed words.” She cries in happiness.

“Slip away to me after everyone’s gone to bed.” He instructs. She agrees.

“Mother has been pleased with my conduct of late. She’ll have let her guard down over tonight. I’ll leave once everyone is abed. Even the maids.” She tells him.

Stroking her fingers down the finery of his waistcoat where they’re still stood close to each other. The material was so soft. The softest grain of velvet she’s ever felt.

“You don’t have to bring too much. I can buy you everything you may ever need.” He leers. Cupping her cheek. Feeling the smooth of her skin. Right up her jaw.

His eyes carve flinty paths down her neck as he strokes his fingers there. Her pulse quickens. He can feel and hear her blood slushing hot through her veins.

She shrugs. “I cherish very few possessions. Posy and Flora can have the rest.” She insists. Her hand coming up to stroke over his thick crook of elbow with the hand that’s touching her neck.

He drags the edge of the chemisette down and strokes along the flat of her collarbone. His eyes turn into a palette of bittersweet autumn. Orange and gold swirled with flecks of russet brown.

“Is it difficult?” She asks suddenly.

“Restraining from the need to...” Her face fixed on his. Words trailing away. Air bursting with heat and lust. His eyes snap from her neck to her face. Her cheeks bloom rose petal red. Blood red and hot.

“To feed?” He asks her. She swallows and nods.

His other hand catches the back of her hips reels her right in close. She gasps. Air around them thick and full of snapping sparking static. Her hands press to his cavernous chest.

“I have got several hundred years of restraint up my sleeve.” He crooks a smirk.

His eyes flicker to watch her jugular pulse. The thrum of her little timpani heart makes his mouth wet. He knows she’d taste like salt and sickly Turkish roses and warm bronze coins.

He presses the chemisette aside again and nudges his nose against her pulse point. Right at the epicentre of his life’s greatest desire. He hums a kiss against her neck and she almost faints-

“You shake all those very hard learnt lessons right down to their very foundations.” He promises.

“Iris my love, you are the hardest thing, I’ve ever had to resist.” He tells.

Swooping upwards to kiss at her cheek. Sighing in need against her hot warm skin. If he indulges the temptation of tasting her blood. He doesn’t even want to fathom what the raw animal in him will do to her. Such debauchery he’d surely scandalise her innocence to tipping point.

He will have her on their wedding night and not a second before.

Though the rogue in him does think how goddamn glorious it would be to have her on that bed of hers right now, torn out of that gown. Screeching his name for the whole house to hear. And they can listen to her rapture and whimper, and beg and writhe under the man who really does love her.

Bite her neck as he pumps deep into her slick heat. Gather up every groan as she opens those sweet pink thighs for him and claws at his back. He’d kiss her neck until she yanks her fingers into his hair and tugs. Opens that sweet songbird mouth and calls for him in her bliss, with that ambrosial voice.

He holds the backs of her hips and strokes the silk there with arcing curves of his thumbs. Drawing shapes on that stiff silk.

“I must tell you-“ She starts. “I never was much good at resisting you either. Even after knowing what you are. It shocked me I won’t deny. But it somehow in its twisted way, it made all the sense in the world. It didn’t alter me for my knowledge of it. It didn’t even begin to change the severity my feelings for you.” She tells him. Reaching up and stroking along the handsome plain jaw.

Wholly, un-confinably, remarkably handsome.

“My love-“ He begins warmly. “If I had to, I would throw you over my shoulder to carry you up the aisle to marry me. Even if I had to tear you from your bed and steal you away in the dark of night to be mine. I would have done it. Because this, what we share, it cannot and will never be undone. Can never be ignored.” He promises her.

“Vampires love more deeply than any mortal longing. What I feel for you, it is not fickle. It will never fade. Never wane. We love each other and that will last for as long as we exist on this earth. I thought I had better edify you with these clear facts about my nature, before we are to be bound in matrimony.” He pledges to her. Declaring his undying devotion to her.

Iris rather wants to swoon into his chest - if she had ever been inclined to be a swooning sort of woman. Instead she just beams. A smile so glad it touches the frosty barren place his dead heart inhabited.

“These last few hours will be such a torture.” She comments seriously. But giddy. So giddy it felt like her sides would split open. And molten happy gold would pour out.

His eyes turn promiscuous. As does his domineering smile.

“I can safely offer you nothing but pleasure once the torture is done.” He filthily promises.

She blushes. He wants to lift her up and devour her in a kiss again. Taste those saccharine sweet lips in an animalistic kiss. He savours holding her instead.

Tomorrow he can let the animal roam free over his delicate dove. Tonight is the last night it must be caged.

“Not long to wait now. The last of my household servants left today. I sent Jomar and Jones off to London to make passage to France. Erland and Kana remain to take us to Scotland with one driver, and the coach.” He tells.

She liked that he’s bringing Erland to their elopement. It’s quite fitting when the creature loves her almost as much as he does.

“Then it’s just us. Riding into the wild of the Highland. Roaming over the Scottish moors, and glens and lochs, as a Lord and his Lady.” He paints a vivid picture for her.

She sighs a smile. “Us, has never sounded so splendid.” And she beams brighter than the sun.

He clutches her close for another kiss before he slips away.

The appointed hour loometh. And Iris won’t sleep a wink for thinking of his sharp smile or those savage eyes.

She eventually dreams. And thinks of kissing his soft plush lips once more. Like kissing pink rose petals.

The next time she will, they’ll be well on their way to being man and wife.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

#kylo ren #kylo ren x oc #vampire au #vampire!kylo #vampirelovestory #very wolves and doves #adam driver #Iris vibes 🕊#Draegan vibes 🥀#Lord Ren vibes 🐺#vampire #demon #ao3 fanfic #more swooning #secret lovers

21 notes · View notes

fedeipox · 3 years

Text

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 2 (3/3)

The day has finally come!! I post this one and run in the leaving room where my beautiful Christmas Tree is waiting to be decorated! Am I the only one who loves Christmas so desperately?

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/636417099433164800/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-2-13

Part 2 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/636678045617537024/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-2-23

Chapter 2 (3/3) - Like King Arthur?

Words: 3,4k

The landscape was changing. Finally they had left the mountain, the ground was plainer, the grass visible under that poor snow that still persisted, too stubborn to let the sun melt it, and the path they were following was leading them from forests to open fields and then to rivers.

Emily had no idea of which time was it, but a dull rumbling of her stomach told her it was time to pull those oatcakes out to finish them. She opened the buttons of the bottle-green coat and unzipped her sweatshirt just what was necessary to put a hand inside and take the tin box she had hidden in there.

Feeling the eyes of the old man on her, she turned to look at him and showed him the box.

“You want some?” she asked.

“Nah, thank you. Never liked them” he replied shaking his hand in denial.

“Trust me, right now, they are the best thing I’ve ever had” she replied turning around.

“Hey, Jack. You want some?” she asked to the kid, who stood up to put a hand inside the box and took out one of the big round cookies.

Emily made the same gesture to the freckled woman who looked at her out of the corner of her eye in some kind of hostility.

It was true she wasn’t planning to stay with them, but that was no reason why she had to be rude, or not make amends for her behavior.

“I’m sorry for last night. I was a piece of shit. Oops… sorry Jack” she addressed the boy, who looked at her as he kept chewing his oatcake.

“It’s just… I was scared, I am scared, and… when I’m scared I have the tendency to lose my mind.”

The woman fixed her eyes on the bottom of the wagon among the boxes, carpets and bedrolls, purposefully not looking back at her.

“Peace” said Emily shaking the oatcake box in her direction.

The woman sighed and took one as a way to accept her apology.

“I’m Emily. I think you got it, by now. What’s your name?”

“Molly.”

“You’re Irish, aren’t you? Or Scottish? I’m not good with accents.”

“My family came from Ireland, yes.”

She didn’t sound like she was in the mood for conversation.

“What about you, Mister? What’s your name?” she asked to the nice grandpa.

“You can call me Uncle, dear.”

“Uncle?” Emily laughed. “Don’t you have a real name?”

“No-one knows his real name” answered Hosea, rising his voice to be heard over the noise of hooves and creaking wheels.

“And how did you call him when he was young?” Emily asked amused.

“He’s never been young” replied Hosea.

Emily laughed heartily. They could be criminals, but they were fun, and kind, and fair and everything else that did not match with the idea she had about criminals. None of them had tried to rape her, hurt her, threat her. There was that Micah of course, who she didn’t like, and Karen was a little… unpleasant, but the rest of them seemed normal. And then there was the fact that they were in 1899, but they didn’t look much different from the people of her time.

Looking at the two men on the leading place of the wagon, she exchanged a look with the man with the blue coat.

“And you?” she asked not without feeling a little embarrassed.

“What?”

“What’s your name?”

“Arthur.”

“Like King Arthur?” she said surprised.

“Like Arthur Morgan” he replied serious.

Emily laughed again, this time louder.

“Like King Arthur and Morgan le Fay? Are you kidding me?”

“Do I look like a joker to you?”

Emily bursted out laughing. She couldn’t help it, she loved that irony, it was one of the things she found most entertaining and funny in the world. The pity was, she didn’t know many ironic people. When she finally could breathe again, she dried the tears from her eyes and took one of the oatcakes.

“Careful back there, we’re crossing a river” said Charles Smith from the front of the wagon.

“A river? With the wagons?” Emily asked.

Then, she looked around and noticed the path they were following was on the edge of a ravine and there was a water sound, not the calm bubbling of a flowing river, but something more powerful like…

“A waterfall!” she exclaimed turning around to look at it.

“What, you never saw a waterfall?” asked Uncle.

“Only on TV.”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind, it’s a long story.”

Putting her knees on the bottom of the wagon, where she was seated a few moments before, she raised just what was necessary to look at the caravan ahead. They were crossing the river right before it bended over and crashed down the fall.

What an experience that was going to be! She had never crossed a river, and even less a waterfall, and even lesser with a wagon.

She sat again and waited patiently until she felt the wagon jolt and the tip of her shoes brushing against the water surface. She giggled watching the clear water ripple under her. In that moment she felt younger, she felt like a child, with her heart light and her mind empty from every kind of thought.

She turned her head towards the waterfall and the view that opened to her eyes took her breath away. She couldn’t believe that was America, the place she was born and grown in. Where had those places been until then?

Right there, of course, but she never had had the chance to go and see them. She had never traveled, never set a foot out of Lemoyne. School trips? Yes, the one day trips, those that didn’t cost much, those her family could afford. The old Saint Denis museums, the Civil War Memorial, Rhodes, the old Braithwaite Manor… there wasn’t much in Lemoyne after all.

They forded the river, slowly and carefully, and reached the other side of it, when…

“Get us out the stream” she heard Hosea saying.

The wagon she was in slowed down until Charles Smith made it stop completely.

“You gotta keep us moving, but calm” added Hosea as he signaled Mr. Arthur to get out of the water.

Their wagon was moving with a strange wobble and as soon as they got out of the river it bended on one side with a loud terrible noise.

“Ahh shit!” sweared Mr. Morgan.

“What happened?” asked Emily.

“Ahh I broke the goddamn wheel!” complained Mr. Morgan.

Emily looked at him as he got down the wagon and asked herself why he was so grumpy.

“Is he always this angry?” she asked to Uncle.

“Oh, you have no idea” he replied with a chuckle.

“Alright, let’s get it fixed” said Hosea with much more optimism than Arthur.

“What’s going on?” asked another voice and turning around she noticed one of the men that was following the caravan at horseback had come back to check what had happened. It was the man with the ridiculous mustache and bowler hat.

“They broke the wheel” she answered.

“You need help?” he asked.

“I reckon we can handle it” she heard Hosea saying.

Without thinking, she jumped down the wagon. Why had she done it? She was curious, about how they would have fixed the wheel and about that angry criminal with the fairytale name. Charles Smith had left the wagon too and walked past her to go help them.

“See you later” said Uncle and when she turned to look at him, the wagon had just started to move away.

She waved at him and then exchanged a look with the man on the horse who nodded to her and hit the spurs to follow the wagon which in so little time was already so far away from her.

“Alright Charles, you and me hold the thing up while you try and put the wheel back on, Arthur” said Hosea.

“Can I help?” Emily asked as she reached the back of the broken wagon.

“No” answered Arthur making the wheel roll on the ground.

“You sure you’re still strong enough to hold up a wagon, Hosea?” he asked then, lifting the wheel from the ground and placing it where she belonged.

So, that’s how they fixed wheels in 1899, placing them back. Much easier than change a car tire.

“Shut up” said Hosea.

“I’m just saying.”

“Well, say less.”

That little teasing between them made Emily chuckle.

When the wheel broke, some crates fell on the ground with an empty barrel and a carpet too, which had rolled a little bit away, so she walked in its direction to pick it up.

“See, you ain’t so useless after all” Morgan joked.

Hosea laughed before answering “not quite”.

She turned around and handed the carpet roll to Charles Smith who loaded it on the wagon. Then, she bended and took one of the crates, but when she tried to pass it to Hosea, she saw the man was looking up, his attention caught by something else.

She looked up too, bringing a hand to her forehead to cover her eyes from the direct light of the sun, and spotted three figures at horseback looking down at them, and they looked like…

“Natives?” she asked.

“What do you think?” asked Morgan.

“If they wanted trouble we wouldn’t have seen ‘em” replied Charles Smith.

“Poor bastards… we really screwed them over down here. Pardon my French, Miss” said Hosea.

Emily looked at him and smiled.

“Yeah, you should hear my French” she joked and looked again at the three Natives.

“What happened?” asked Arthur.

Emily turned to look at him in disbelief.

“What, you lived it and you have no idea of what happened?” she asked.

“You do?” he asked back.

“We better go, let’s not push our luck, we’ll talk later” said Hosea walking to the front of the wagon.

Mr. Morgan did the same, while Charles Smith climbed on the back and then turned around to reach out a hand that Emily took to lift herself on it. She and Mr. Charles sat one opposite to the other and she had been lucky enough to sit on a rolled carpet.

“Not too far now. Stay on this trail. We’ll follow the river then cut left inland” said Hosea. “So, you know what happened” he stated then turning around to look at her.

“Of course I do. Everybody does. It’s one of the bloodiest chapters in history.”

From the looks they gave her, she could tell they were expecting her to say something more.

“Anyway, they took their lands, stole everything they had, and moved them away, not to mention the massacres of the wars.”

“Thank goodness those have ended” replied Hosea.

“Nothing has ended. The abuses against the Natives will be carried on until the first half of the 21st century.”

“And how can you make such a statement?” asked Hosea narrowing his eyes to look at her carefully.

“I think I’ve made that part clear.”

Mr. Morgan scoffed.

“What, that you come from the future?” he asked skeptically.

Emily sighed as an answer. She would have never convinced them of that.

“You are a Native, right?” she asked to Charles Smith.

“By mother. My father was a colored man.”

“Wow that’s unusual. You must be proud of it” she replied with a surprised smile.

“Not really.”

“Why not? Such a rare happening, different cultures, different stories… it’s beautiful.” “Not everybody thinks the same.”

“W-what…”

She had to remember to herself where she was, when she was, to understand what he meant.

“What about your parents? Where are they?” she asked.

“I don’t know. The army came and took my mother when I was little. I left my father’s house when I was thirteen.”

“Why?”

“He was a sad man, especially after what happened to my mother, and the alcohol had a mean hold on him.”

Disappeared mother, drunk father, that man had a terrible story, and she could feel his sadness through that deep voice he had. Without thinking, she did what she thought to be the right thing and leaned forward to hug him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry” she murmured.

“W-what are you doing?” he asked.

Emily let him go and frowned at him looking at his bewildered face.

“Erm… showing my sympathy?” she answered.

“Why?” he replied defensive.

Emily kept looking at him and then moved her eyes on Hosea, who had a surprised expression just like Charles Smith. And she couldn’t say the same of Mr. Morgan, because he was driving, but she reckoned he was asking himself what the hell was she doing too.

“Because that’s what people do? Your story is terrible, you must have suffered a lot and I want you to know that I’m here if you want to talk.”

He kept looking at her like she was speaking Chinese. So it was true what they said, in the past people were truly cold and unsympathetic. Probably no-one had ever told him something like that.

“So now you’ll go around and hold people to show them your sympathy?” asked Mr. Morgan sarcastic.

Emily laughed at his provocation.

“No, not everybody. Only those who deserve it. What about you Arthur Morgan? What’s your story?”

“We found young Arthur here when he was like what… fifteen?” Hosea asked him.

“Yeah, more or less” Arthur replied.

“A wilder delinquent you never did see. But he learned fast” added Hosea.

“So you didn’t have any family?” Emily asked.

“Orphan, they both died when I was very young.”

“Oh my…” she whispered.

Was there anyone who had had a normal life? A normal childhood? A happy childhood? She asked herself as a great pity raised in her for those people. She wasn’t surprised they all became criminals, in someway they didn’t have a choice. And what about the girls? What kind of life did they have? Mary-Beth, Tilly, Abigail? What was their story? If the men had been so unfortunate, she could only imagine what it had to be for the women, because we all know for women is always worse.

“So, what now? You’re gonna hold me too?” asked Mr. Morgan with that sarcastic tone.

“No” she said and immediately looked away when he turned his head to glance at her. “Not anymore” she added.

...

Arthur laughed focusing again on the road. She was something, with that childish enthusiasm for waterfalls and that sympathy for people with sad stories and that claim of her provenience from the future. She was the strangest creature he had ever met and the same was thinking Charles, who couldn’t move his eyes from her since she had touched him. No-one had ever showed that interest for his origin, that compassion for his past, that kindness for him, and especially a white girl. He wasn’t used to that.

“What about your story, Miss Emily?” asked Hosea who wasn’t less stroke by her strange behavior.

“There’s nothing interesting to say about me, I’m afraid. I’m born in Saint Denis and there I lived my whole life with my mom and dad. I’d never thought to say that but…compared to you I feel extremely lucky. I have a family and friends and a job… well, I had a family, friends and a job.”

Charles noticed her own words had caused something inside her and her eyes suddenly lost the light. She fixed them on the distance, watching everything and nothing at the same time. Why did he have the impression that girl was telling the truth? All that story seemed absurd, but the change of her expression was genuine.

“Listen, I don’t know what to think of it” said Hosea as he understood that too.

“I know, you can’t believe me” she said brushing her tears away.

“And I don’t expect you to. I just don’t know what to do. Even if I went to Saint Denis, there would be nothing for me there. I have no place, I have no-one, I have nothing”

“Yes, you do. You have us” replied Hosea.

She looked at him with those big dark eyes that shined in the sun like they produced their own light.

“We’ll take care of you, like we’ve been taking care of each other in the last twenty years.”

“But… but you are…”

“Outlaws? Yes. Bad people? Also probably yes. But we are also a family.”

The girl smiled and dried the last tears from her eyes, which all of a sudden had recovered that light that made her look younger and innocent and pure, a purity of spirit Hosea hadn’t seen in many people, and it needed protection from that cruel world they lived in.

...

Her own words had crushed inside her like an airplane, but the more Hosea talked to her the better she felt. That man had a way of talking that could calm a ferocious bear, and she just couldn’t believe he was a criminal. He was so sweet, kind, and he was caring about her, when no-one did. Maybe she didn’t have to leave them, maybe she could stay with them just what was necessary to understand what she wanted to do with her forced new life.

“You know you’re gonna have to teach me how to do everything, right? I come from a time when we have a lot of things which you have not” she said.

“Like what?” asked Charles Smith.

She looked around her trying to think about something.

“Like, erm, I don’t know, like cars. Wagons without horses” she said.

“We have them. People already posses them in the East” replied Hosea.

“Really? What about, erm, phones?”

“You mean telephones? You can find it at the Sheriff’s office, they let you use it if you ask.”

Emily widened her eyes in surprise, wishing she had a better knowledge of inventions of the 1800’s.

“And showers?” she asked.

It came to her mind and for a moment she wished they had showers too, so she could have one as soon as they got to Valentine.

“Showers?” asked Hosea.

“Yes, when the water comes from above, from the shower head” she explained.

“Like the rain?” asked Charles.

“No, I-I… l-like…”

She had no idea how to make them understand.

“How do you wash?” she asked. Maybe starting from their point of view, it would have been easier.

“In the bathtub?” said Mr. Morgan.

“Okay, a bathtub, great, now think about water, okay? Coming from a pipe which falls from above, and you wash under it, and then the water flaws inside the bathtub and in the pipes again.”

She felt like an idiot, with her arm stretched up in the air making the water-that-comes-from-the-shower sign.

“Why should water come from above if you can fill the bathtub?” asked Arthur.

“Because this way is cleaner. When you have a bath you basically swim in your own filth, is unhygienic” Emily explained.

The three of them chuckled and snorted. Emily did the same, shaking her head and thinking it was for the best if they didn’t talk about modern inventions anymore.

“You know, I’m almost tempted to believe you really come from the future, I don’t think you can make up something like showers” said Mr. Arthur.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll patent it, so I’ll become rich” she joked.

A movement from her left made her jerk around, and what she saw made her heart jump and a rush of excitement ran in her veins.

“A deer!” she yelled.

“Look, look, a deer!” she said pointing at the animal jumping up and down until it reached the river.

Hearing that shrieking, the deer stopped to look at her with its ears stretched up.

“And if you don’t stop yelling that’s the first and last you’ll ever see” Morgan said annoyed.

Emily pouted at his reproach.

“Sorry, I’ve never seen one” she murmured looking down.

“Never saw a waterfall, never saw a deer. You are a real city girl” said Arthur with some sort of mocking in his voice.

“Yes, I am, And I’m proud of it.”

Mr. Morgan scoffed.

“What? I am. Cities are great, always alive, always full of people, opportunities…”

“Overwhelming chaos” said Hosea.

“Arrogant sons of bitches” added Arthur.

“Filthy air” ended Charles Smith.

“Yeah, well… it has its flaws” she admitted in the end.

A glimpse of the sun light reflected on the water of the flat river and caught her attention on the spectacular landscape. She inhaled deeply and the smell of grass and trees and flowers entered in her nostrils, having a sort of lulling effect on her mind.

“Yeah, cities are great. But I think I prefer the country.”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female oc #hosea matthews #Charles Smith #javier escuella

9 notes · View notes

sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

Text

Signs of the Times (DonnyxReader)

Requested by @baldwin-iv

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist :)

Note: Dialogue that is italicized means the characters are speaking in French or German

It had been a rather long mission. You, Donny, Wicki, and Hugo had been assigned to it on your own. Given the OSS' projections, no one should have survived that mission. But also given the skills needed to do it, and the objectives, the four of you were basically what Aldo called 'an all-star team.' You had all made it without so much as a scratch on yourselves...though all the nazis that got in your way couldn’t say the same thing.

After two months, the four of you were sitting in a French cafe one afternoon as a reward, just before heading back to the others.

To avoid raising suspicions from possible informants or traitors laying around, you spoke in German with Wicki and Hugo.... If it was absolutely necessary, you'd whisper to Donny in English.... And he'd write his answer on a napkin because that man could not whisper to save his life. After all, you could take the basterd out of Boston, but you couldn't take the Boston out of the basterd.

Someone else walked into the cafe.

Someone drawn to the comfort of his language...

A Gestapo major: Dieter Hellstrom.

He heard the boys and assumed they were German soldiers that were off duty. Then he heard you speaking to a waiter in perfect French. Dieter assumed you were a French collaborator. Most likely giving the supposed soldiers some Intel....but of course soldiers spotting some civilian as attractive as you could just be making some small talk.

They were soldiers after all...

And so was he.

He sat between Hugo and Wicki, across from you and Donny. "Entschuldigen Sie mich. Sicherlich verschwendet jemand, der so umwerfend ist wie Sie, keine Zeit mit diesen Fahnen!"

'Excuse me. Surely someone as stunning as yourself isn't wasting time with these ensigns!'

Dieter laughed at his joke and patted Hugo and Wicki on the back. Hugo scowled and Wicki forced a grin.

You gave a false, welcoming nod and smile, noting the insignia on his uniform. "This is Private Becker and Sergeant Vogel..." It would've made no sense to make Donny a German soldier... He couldn't speak German and it would blow your cover. So...you panicked.

You gestured to Donny, "Mein bruder..."

Donny forced a grin. An inherently murderous scowl as you explained, "He does not speak German. He's worse than I am..." He noted the French accent as you spoke in German, and nodded.

Dieter shrugged, "ça va, je parle français."

Dieter could, unfortunately, speak French...

You lied again.

"He's...he's mute!"

Dieter raised his chin a little and looked Donny over with a squint. He frowned a bit, then nodded and shook Donny's hand.

Donny made certain his iron grip hurt Dieter.

Dieter chuckled nervously as he pulled his hand away.

You shook his hand next, "Major."

He smiled a little still not letting go of your hand "How rude of me. My name is Dieter. And yours?"

He kissed your hand as you gave him your name.

At that moment, Donny would break Dieter if he could. If only looks could kill...

Meanwhile... Dieter was completely enthralled by you. He winked back at Hugo and Wicki as he chuckled, and spoke to them "You win some you lose some, boys."

It was his way of ordering them to move to another table and back off.

As of that moment, in Dieter's mind, you were his.

You gave a reassuring glance to Wicki and Hugo. Wicki cleared his throat and stood up, saluting Dieter. He glanced back at Donny with a look that screamed "don't blow this for us."

Hugo simply smirked a little seeing the boiling blood and flaming jealousy in Donny's eyes.

Dieter looked back at you once he was satisified by the distance they'd gone.

"I'd apologize to your brother if I seem too forward, Y/n... But I don't think he'd understand me, would he?" Dieter laughed a little.

You clearly weren't amused, but at that moment Dieter was blinded by his lust.

Still, you chuckled a little. Not because you liked Dieter but because you knew Donny. And you knew damn well this would not end well for that nazi.

Dieter rambled on, stumbling over lines and flirts until he was practically out of breath and burning red. "I apologize if I seemed insensitive it's just been a while since anyone so charming....has well..."

You stopped paying attention as Dieter droned on.

Meanwhile...Donny was clenching his fists. His right fist was wrapped around a knife under the table. His left fist restsed on the table, his knuckles turning white. His leg was shaking as he tried to control his rage.

He didn't understand a word Dieter was saying, but he knew he was saying things a man shouldn’t say to another man's love. Ever. In any language. Rules were rules under every flag and alliance.

Just as Donny was about to snap, Dieter caught sight of the time.

"I must be going... Meet me here tomorrow night, at seven? They have some good strudel here."

You smiled "Ja."

Dieter nodded and quickly built up the courage to lean over the table. He planted a slobbery mess of a kiss on your cheek. You scrunched up your nose. You knew he said it'd been a while, but judging from that disaster of a peck, it must have been ages. Donny's eyes were those of a madman, wild with jealousy.

The moment Dieter stepped out the door everyone took a breath of relief.

"Ugh..." You wiped some of Dieter's messy kiss away from your cheek with your sleeve. Donny was eerily silent...

You smirked at him, "If it's any consolation to you, he's a terrible kisser."

Donny grunted as he slammed the knife into table, driving the blade halfway through.

"Hey..." Your voice was soothing to him as you rested your hand against Donny's cheeks.

He started ranting and muttering vulgarities under his breath.

You sighed. You were the only basterd that was not be scared of Donny when he got like that. Everyone else was good at hiding it at that point...but at that Hugo and Wicki were petrified, and kept their distance.

"Hey. Look at me, Donny."

"What." he growled as he finally turned to you, eyes piercing deep into yours, practically huffing like a wolf.

You looked right back into his dark eyes until the smoke seemed to fade.

He took a breath...he lowered his eyes in shame. "I'm sorry...."

You smiled softly and eased his raging heart. "He'll be back tomorrow night. You and the boys wait outside."

He immediately sunk back into his jealousy. "What and watch that fucken kraut kiss you? Yeah. Ok." He scoffed and crossed his arms.

You rolled your eyes. "Ok. And you get a scalp." You patted him on the chest. And he uncrossed his arms and smirked a little.

"Deal, baby?" Feeling your hands resting against his face made him calm down.

His heart melted when you gave him a kiss.

His breathing slowed.

He unclenched his fists.

He even smiled a little.

The next night, Donny hid in some trees, and basically had to watch you go on a date with someone else. A nazi, no less.

He almost went on a rampage when Dieter leaned in to kiss you.

But...you put your finger against Dieter’s lips.

"Lets get out of here."

Dieter's mouth dropped as he fumbled to gather his things.

He practically ran outside with you, pulling you by the hand.

And ran into Donny.

"Oh...your brother... Damn."

Donny looked to you, his eyes more expressive than any word could ever be as he signed to you and Dieter.

As a matter of fact, Donny really did know ASL. One of his childhood friends was deaf. In fact, that kid was still one of closest friends, but that was a story for another day...

It wasn't French sign language but it would do. Dieter couldn't tell the difference.

Besides... Donny was signing profanities directed at Dieter and no one knew...

No one but you.

You nodded with a sigh and rolled your eyes.

Dieter looked to you, annoyed and practically whining about the sudden appearance of your 'brother,' "What did he say?"

"He'll walk me home from here."

Dieter muttered under his breath but had to admit "Well... he's doing what any older brother would do, isn't he..."

You smiled a little, holding Dieter's decorated lapel, "Can't blame him can you, major? Me and a handsome soldier like you..."

Donny's eyes and signing intensified...

Donny pulled you away from him and Dieter asked "May I come along?"

You and Donny looked to each other and smirked. You clued him in, "That's the plan."

Dieter smiled and blindly followed into the forest that you somehow convinced him was a short cut. Dieter had his arm around you, as you both followed Donny into the woods.

"Bit dark here... If your brother wasn't butting in, I think you and I could-" his hand started slipping from around your shoulders, down your back.

Donny swung around, grabbed Dieter by the collar, and tore him away from you.

Donny understood enough.

"Lets get one thing straight, pal." Donny was dangling Dieter a good five inches off the ground, "I aint Y/n's brother and I aint mute. Your turn to set the goddamn record straight, pal. What would you do if I wasnt here? Huh?!"

Dieter was struggling against Donny, but there was no way he was reaching his gun. You had been leaning against a tree. It really was the closest thing you got to going to the movies... You smirked a little as you lit a cigarette. "Boys?" You puffed some smoke out as you watched the spectacle unfold.

Wicki and Hugo emerged from the trees. Hugo tossed the bat to Donny.

Wicki took Dieter's gun and Donny threw him against the ground.

He crouched over Dieter like a leopard prowling over it's prey. "You still don't know who we are, do you?"

Dieter's eyes widened as he saw the bat.

"You're the one they call the Bear Jew..."

He looked back at Hugo and Wicki... He knew they looked familiar.

He snapped his head toward you, barking like a rabid dog, "AND YOU. YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A-"

Donny had been practicing his swing for a minute or so...

He stopped and looked at Dieter. "Careful what you say about Y/n. Might make your final moments a bit more pleasant, major."

Dieter roared in German.

Donny didn't need to understand.

"Suit yourself, you fucking home wrecker." Donny tilted his head side to side as he cracked his neck and stretched.

He swung his bat.

It was a most unpleasant death, to say the least.

But you had to admit... Dieter had it coming.

So you walked on with your boys, back to the rest of the basterds somewhere in Nazi-Occupied France.

Donny was covered in blood drops. But...what was new?

He had his arm wrapped around you, bat swinging from his hand as you swayed together through the forest. A scalp around his belt.

Jealous as he was...sometimes it was a bit endearing. Sometimes it was annoying. Sometimes it was deadly.

But as you looked at batter from Boston, you smiled as you saw the satisfaction in his smirk and the love in his eyes.

#Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine #Donny Donowitz #donny donowitz x reader #Wilhelm Wicki #hugo stiglitz #the bear jew

104 notes · View notes

chilling-seavey · 4 years

Text

Amoureux (c.s/d.s) - Chapter Two

A/N I couldn’t wait until Passchendaele is done to post this...here’s chapter two 🥰

Kensington Palace, England ~ August 1, 1820

Louisa glanced out the window of the carriage, watching the large stone palace come into view under bright blue skies. The sprawling lawns and gardens were pristine, the fountain was crystal clear and polished, and not a pebble out of line on the paths. It was Louisa’s first time out of France, having spent nearly two days travelling across Europe to officially move into her new life as the future Queen of England. It was a journey filled with anxiety and uncertainty and the fact that she would probably never see home again was eating away at her heart since France had been her whole universe for all sixteen years of her life.

The Palace of Versailles, where Louisa was born and grew up, was vastly different from Kensington Palace that she was approaching in her carriage. Versailles had been the French royal family’s pride and joy since the 1660s, each reining monarch pouring money into the construction to make it the biggest and grandest palace in all the land. It certainly was, each room dripping in gold and crystals and the finest linens and silks on the beds and in the windows, the grounds spanning many acres. One could easily get lost admits the two thousand three hundred rooms if they never grew up there with plentiful time to explore all that Versailles had to offer.

It was what life was to Louisa, the luxury and grandeur of her palace simply being reality, having never needed to set foot elsewhere even within her own country. So it was no doubt that Louisa was slightly disappointed when the horse and carriage pulled her up to the dark stone building in the center of London, so plain and dismal compared to the shining gold accents that trimmed Versailles from top to bottom.

The horses came to a stop outside the front of the palace and Louisa waited as the Royal Guards opened the door for her. One offered her his hand and she placed her gloved hand softly in his as he helped her out of the carriage.

“Princess.” The guards bowed their heads in greeting.

“Welcome to Kensington Palace, your Royal Highness.” An older man dressed in a formal military uniform bowed to her.

“Yes, thank you.” Louisa pulled her best smile towards him, her eyes drifting up the side of the building, trying to find a spec of gold anywhere.

“I am Jonah Marais, The King’s Private Secretary. I will help you get settled. You must be terribly tired after such a long journey.”

“Yes, I am afraid so.” Louisa said softly, glancing behind her to where the guards were unloading her many suitcases from the back of the carriage.

“If you follow me, Princess. The King and Queen are waiting to greet you just inside.”

Louisa nodded and followed Jonah up the few steps and into the large foyer of the palace. The staircase that she was met with seemed to span upwards forever, a straight run directly in front of the doors that spilt into two directions against the far wall and then turned right back towards the main doors as they reached the second storey on both sides. A rolling red carpet lined the marble stairs and across the floor towards the entrance, the two-storey foyer spanning up to the curved ceiling that was crested in gold elaborate trim. The upkeep of the detailed foyer alone was impressive, and Louisa already started to feel right at home.

She followed Jonah up the grand staircase, eyeing each massive painting that they passed on the way. Looping around at the top of the stairs towards the back of the palace, Jonah knocked on a large wooden door before opening it and gesturing Louisa through the wide paneled doorjamb. Three people stood up from the chairs in the center of the dark painted room and Louisa easily recognised the King from the paintings she had seen, the same full face and beard and soft blue eyes. The Queen stood slightly behind him, a kind smile on her slim face and her brown hair tucked back in a formal updo, her dress billowing slightly in the wind that came in through the open window.

“Princess Louisa of France, your Majesties.” Jonah introduced to the room, bowing once before excusing himself and closing the door again behind him.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Louisa.” The King smiled, taking Louisa’s offered hand to kiss it softly in formal greeting.

“You as well, your Majesties.” Louisa curtsied lightly before turning to the Queen and doing the same.

“Your father must have spoken to you about our son.” The King gestured behind them to the boy standing a few feet away. His brown hair was pushed back from his face, white collar tucked high around his neck and his red suit jacket only accentuated his brilliant light blue eyes. He seemed to be entranced by Louisa as his sudden acknowledgment by his father made him startle a moment.

The Prince took a step forward and gently took Louisa’s hand to bow and kiss the back of her hand, all without taking his eyes off her face, “Princess Louisa.”

Louisa felt her cheeks flush under the adoring stare of the older and handsome boy in front of her as he took a small step back and dropped her hand. A shy smile played at her lips as she dipped into a small curtsey again, “Pleased to finally meat you, Prince Christian, your Royal Highness.”

Louisa could see the hints of dimples on the Prince’s cheeks and it made her smile to the ground, tucking her curls behind her ear, her shyness making Christian absolutely beam. The two of them almost forgot the King and Queen were even there, both young adults simply staring at each other in perfect silence, content smiles on their lips.

“Christian.” The King spoke up finally, tearing the young couple from their minds and they both looked over at him quickly, embarrassed at being caught staring.

“Yes, father.” Christian spoke shakily, his hands wringing together behind his back as he focussed on his father’s face.

“I believe you have something for your bride.”

“Oh. Yes. Indeed.” Christian cleared his throat before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a diamond ring. The sunlight glinted off it through the window as he held out his hand to her.

Louisa could barely bite back her grin as she gently pulled off her glove from her left hand and set it in his. The Prince’s hand was soft against hers and he wrapped his fingers around hers tenderly to keep her still as he slipped the engagement ring onto her hand, eyes raising to meet hers. They shared a small smile and stepped back from each other again.

“There will be plenty of time for you two get to know each other before the wedding.” The King explained. “But Princess Louisa has had a long journey so I will have Jonah show you to your chamber so you can rest before supper.”

Louisa curtseyed to them again, saying a gentle thank you before the Private Secretary came back into the room to lead her towards her bedroom. She took once last glance over her shoulder to Christian who was standing behind his parents and he smiled a dimpled grin to the carpet.

Louisa was honestly expecting an older man, girls her age often being set up with monarchs who were into their late twenties or even thirties, but Christian was no more than twenty-one, a youthful looking man who was just as shy and soft spoken as she felt. She knew she shouldn’t have doubted her sweet father’s intuition.

Louisa couldn’t hide her smile as Jonah ushered her into a bedroom just around the corner from the room which she came from. The large canopy bed was against the wall on the other side of wooden flooring between two tall windows, topped with a red floral quilt and an impressive overhanging canopy stretching up to the fourteen-foot ceiling with red and white floral linen trim. The fireplace was already lit along the interior wall and her bags were stacked neatly in front of the chaise lounge at the foot of the bed. Louisa walked over to the windows across the room and admired the view of the back gardens, being able to see most of the property, watching a few gardeners working under the willow trees and around the ponds.

“Is it satisfactory, ma’am?” a soft voice from behind her asked.

Louisa turned with surprise to see another woman arranging the last of her bags, Jonah now gone from the room.

“Oh, yes, quite.” Louisa smiled, walking over to her from the window.

“I’m Mary. Your Lady in Waiting.” The woman curtsied in front of her. “Ring for me at any hour and I will be ready to tend to anything you need. Supper will be rung for at 6pm and will be held in the dining room just past the main staircase.”

“Thank you, Mary.” Louisa smiled, taking a seat on her chaise lounge and smoothed down her dress over her lap.

The Lady smiled, curtsying again before leaving Louisa to some time to herself in her new room. Louisa admired the paintings on the wall, how each of them was framed in gold, as well as the solid gold candle holders on the mantle, the bedside tables, and desk against the far wall. She looked down to finally admire the ring on her left hand, still feeling Christian’s gentle touch against her skin as he had held her hand so tenderly. The large diamond that stared back at her was lined with smaller stones that twisted around the band, the ring itself worth a fortune and appearing no less than absolutely dazzling. Although it could never match the astonishing blue she found in Christian’s eyes, the cliché making her giggle to herself and fall back against the chaise lounge with a child-like smile.

He was an attractive young man, that was for sure, and Louisa wondered how she lucked out, already excited to spend more time with the future King of England.

#why dont we #why dont we fanfic #christian seavey #daniel seavey #jonah marais #corbyn besson #jack avery #zach herron #wdw #limelight #historical fiction #royal!wdw #daniel seavey fanfic #christian seavey fanfic #daniel and christian #wdw fanfic #wdw imagines #👑

24 notes · View notes

makemadej · 5 years

Text

So today two of my worlds collided in the best way: Ryan and Shane were guests on one of my favorite podcasts. I was totally blindsided by this since there was no promo for it whatsoever (who knows why, maybe they forgot when the release date was, maybe they’ve been taken captive by skeletons, maybe they’re just terrible at promoting themselves), and it killed me that I couldn't listen to the whole thing until after work. It's over two hours long and podcasts aren't everyone's cup of tea, so I'm capturing the ghoul boy highlights here for anyone who wants them.

Wine and Crime is a weekly podcast hosted by three ladies who are feminist as fuck and pair a different crime with a different wine each episode. This time, the theme was Pandora's Box crimes, aka "crimes that were only supposed to be minimal but ended up being a shitshow." Inevitably, they paired it with boxed wine.

Enter the ghoul boys.

Ryan, on Franzia: I do enjoy slappin' a bag Shane: I've seen Ryan slap some bags in my day. [...] Ryan: Shane has to tell me to stop slapping the bag sometimes Ryan: I used to do this thing in college called Tour de Franzia. It was like a drinking game, but it was an obstacle course, and at every checkpoint you had to slap the bag. [beat] I made great decisions in college.

Ryan: You say "nice stream" to the sound of liquid being poured into something, it maybe is not the best...it may not communicate well over audio. Shane: Hey, nice stream Ryan: Nice stream. That's what I say every time I go up to a urinal. To any guy. Tap him on the shoulder. Shane: Men in public bathrooms, we all compliment each other's streams. Ryan: Yeah. It's best if you whisper it. At close proximity. I get really close so he can smell the Popeye's on my breath that I just got at the terminal and I whisper "nice stream."

Ryan: We're drinking the 14% Four Lokos seltzer over here [borderline unintelligible banter about playing Edward Four Lokos hands]

Ryan, on the description of himself on a "which BFU guy are you" quiz: That sounds like the description of a golden retriever.

Shane: I know there's one quiz that was popular where the description [of me] was entirely wrong.

Ryan, increasingly high pitched: A fan sent you all these goat parts?

[What is your favorite wine varietal?] Ryan: Hmmmmmm... [Do you know what a varietal is?] Shane, with gusto: No!

Ryan: Wine to me is just wine at this point. I'm not that far on my wine journey. I was a beer guy that's transitioning over into wine. Shane: Well, it sounds like you're not doing a very good job. Ryan: You know what, I said I am LEARNING, Shane. So why don't you get off your high horse and tell them what kind of wine you like? Shane: I don't even know! Ryan: Mr. "I don't know what a wine varietal is" Shane: Yeah. But I don't call myself a wine guy Ryan: I never said I was a wine guy! I said I was-- Shane: You were like, "Oh, have you see that Netflix documentary, Sommelier?" Ryan: First off, I didn't say it like Elmo from Sesame Street, but I also said I was transitioning!

Shane: I like some red wines and some white wines Ryan, imitating him: I like the stuff with the alcohol in it...and sometimes it has bubbles and makes my tummy feel good and uhhhh, yeah Shane: Yeah, I don't really know... Ryan: Sick answer Shane: There's a kind my girlfriend always gets that's really good but I don't...I can't remember the name of it Ryan: That's a long name. That's actually a good name for a wine! The Kind My Girlfriend Gets, ever had it? They sell it at Trader Joe's. Shane: I'm not even trying to do like a...*weird cowboy voice* "I'm a man, so I don't drink wine. Only my girlfriend does." I like wine, I've just...I've never been good at wine. And wine makes me real sleepy, so I almost never have it. Ryan: That's why I don't drink red wine...and it also makes me look like I've been chewing on mud clots or something.

[What is one "unsolved" case that you're pretty sure you've solved?] Ryan: What was that one where I was like, I think I've pretty much solved this one? The Black Dahlia I'm pretty sure was George Hodel. I'm almost positive of it. Shane: Wasn't there like a missing child one that we thought we had sorta gotten? Bobby Dunbar Ryan: Bobby Dunbar. I think we had solved that one. Uh... Shane: We can never concretely say that we've solved it. Ryan: No, we can't legally, but I'm pretty sure D.B. Cooper's bones are an ornament in some pine tree out there in the Pacific Northwest [...] Shane: The case is pretty closed on Amelia Earhart, too. Ryan: I don't think so. Shane: Yeah, she got eaten by crabs. Ryan: I think it's closed in your mind. That's what you'd like to have happened. Shane: That's what happened. Ryan: Giant, man-eating crabs. It's amazing that those exist. I saw one dragging a coconut. Not hard to imagine that coconut being a head. Shane: Yeah. Of an aviatrix. Ryan: Of an aviatrix, yeah. The most famous aviatrix of all time!

Ryan: Fun fact, shaking my bones is what I call dancing.

Shane: I'll say that Ryan is 100% that bitch. Ryan: I'd say 0% actually. Shane: See, that's what makes you that bitch. Ryan, cracking up: What about you, Shane? Shane: Mm. 45.

Ryan: I don't know if people would like me walking into a room trumpeting "I'm 100% that bitch!" every time I walk in a room. I think there's nuance to it. You can't always be 100% that bitch. [...] Or if I'm trying to make an omelet and I can't make the flip...not 100% that bitch in that moment. I'll tell you, it's the bane of my existence Shane: You can't make an omelet? Ryan: It's impossible! Shane: It's not. Ryan: It's really hard! I don't think I have the proper pan. Shane: It sounds like you don't. Do you have a good spatula? Ryan: Maybe, I dunno... Shane: WHAT DO YOU MEAN MAYBE? DO YOU HAVE A GOOD SPATULA OR NOT? It’s a yes or no question! Ryan: I think it might be, I don't know! I have no idea where it came from, I got it from my mom. Maybe she bought it from Sur la Table? Shane: I was gonna say, go to *French accent* Sur la Table, get a little free espresso... [degenerates into arguing about French pronunciation]

Shane on working at Abercrombie: I was in the stock room, they didn't let me up front. Not my beat. [...] Me and my friends...would just hang out in the back and listen to music and eat cookie dough. And they'd be like "we need you to fold this box of girly shirts" and we'd be like "ah, okay!" and then we'd just take the box and be like "this is too many shirts." And we'd just throw it...this was the area like a loft area where you couldn't see anything. We'd just throw the boxes so we wouldn't have to fold the shirts. They're probably still there. Ryan: Sounds like you were a great employee.

Shane: I started as Buzzfeed as an intern. Ryan had started a month or two before me. So we came up in the same intern class together.

Ryan: I did grip and electric work for two years, which is basically like lifting heavy gear essentially on set and I realized I didn't want to do that for ten years before I even had the chance to sniff a camera.

Ryan: I filmed powerpoints for doctors...I did feel like a prisoner at times when I was there, listening to a doctor from USC's Keck medical school talk about irritable bowel syndrome for two straight hours...I was a couple days away from joining the union...That was concurrent with the irritable bowel syndrome filmings.

Ryan: I chose the internship at Buzzfeed not knowing what it was, met the Shaniac over here, and then, um...we went through that program, which was kind of like the Hunger Games. We saw all of our fellow interns die. [...] We worked our way up, I eventually made Unsolved.I made unsolved actually with a different host, Brent Bennett. He left the show because he didn't like...I believe the quote was "I don't like these stories anymore." Shane: *dies laughing* Ryan: And I turned to my right and was like, "hey Shane, wanna do this instead?" and he was like "sure" and that's that. And from then on I guess we never looked back.

[Shane, how do you feel about being the second choice?] Shane: I'm fine with it. Really, there was so little fanfare to him asking me. Ryan: No ceremony at all. Shane: 'Cause we were just making stuff left and right at that point and series were not really an established thing at Buzzfeed [...] Even when Ryan had asked me "hey, would you like to be in this?" uh...I was like "yeah, lemme..." Ryan says I checked my calendar. Ryan: Yeah, Shane looked over at his google calendar, saw that next week was open, and was like "yeah, looks like I've got some time" and I was like "sweet, lock it in" and he was like "cool." And then we both put our headphones back on 'cause we sat next to each other at a desk and worked on other things and that was that.

[What is some of the silliest feedback you've gotten about your show?] Ryan: Luckily the fan base is pretty nice. There's plenty of fun, positive comments out there, however, this is one that tickled me the most. A guy somehow found my personal email address and emailed me to let me know. He's like "hey man, love the videos, excellent content to get stoned to. Keep it up, cheers!" I don't know who this man was.

Shane: I do have some hope that Bigfoot is real. A little unlikely. The other one I always root for is Champ in Lake Champlain. Ryan: I don't know why you have such an obsession with Champ. [...] Shane: Champ...there seems to be something fishy going on there. There's something going on in that lake. Ryan: Good pun Shane: Not even. There's something going on there and I've seen that lake and I've looked out at that lake and I've felt something inside me just looking out at it. Ryan: You sure it wasn't just IBS? Shane: We've established that you're the one with IBS Ryan: I'm not the one with IBS! Shane: You joined the union! Ryan: You were the one who almost pooed your pants on an investigation Shane: That's a different story! Ryan: You ate two hot dogs that were served at the baggage claim in Philadelphia Shane: We. Were. Hungry.

Ryan on Dyatlov Pass: I'm gonna double down here. I think it was a yeti. Or, not a yeti. I think it was an abdominal snowman. Shane: Abominable.

[borderline unintelligible banter about an incredibly ripped yeti doing crunches]

Shane: I'm very content with the mysteries of the universe never being uncovered. It's fine. Ryan: It's frustrating. Shane: You're gonna go to the grave not knowing so many things, so you might as well just give up on them. Ryan: Such a nihilistic way to look at everything.

Shane: If you know anyone who's traveling and they're your enemy, you just call the FBI and say "oh, they're up to no good up there." Ryan: If Shane was flying somewhere I could just say "yeah, I think he's dangerous. I know him. He's the guy who couldn't fit a hat on his big head."

[interlude where they decide to name an anonymous suspect Shane Ryanson]

Shane: It would be funny if this was like the highest escalation of a prank war between two friends Ryan: That'd be a hilarious prank, getting someone thrown into federal prison. Super funny. Gotcha!

Shane: If you're the kind of person who is likely to call in a threat to the FBI solely as a way to get a dig in at your friend, that probably stays with you for life. That's pretty hard-coded into who you are. Ryan: That's true. Especially when you look like an out of work Batman villain [...] If this dude walked into a 7-11, I would drop my Slurpee immediately and run to my car. He's a scary man. I'm out. Slurpee's on the floor.

Shane: I'll tell you this in defense of dolphins, they do have funny little smiles.

Shane, on breaking into Sea World: That seems like an extremely Australian thing to do.

Shane, googling fairy penguins: Yes, it's a wonderful little penguin! He's so small! Ryan: This is great, this is like a dark gritty reboot of Mr. Popper's Penguins.

Shane: Just...to meet someone, get along so well that you each drink a half a liter of vodka together and then go swimming with dolphins and blast some sharks with a fire extinguisher Ryan: ...and then decide, let's top off the night by bringing home a fuzzy little friend Shane: I mean, by that point you've got a winning streak going. You're like, "yeah, we didn't get eaten by sharks! we did swim with the dolphins! Of course we'll steal a penguin!”

Ryan: I bet the penguin actually helped the hangover, to be fair. If I was hungover, I normally just see my blinds shuttered in my room, my shoes are somewhere in the house, but if I found a penguin I'd be like "okay, maybe this isn't so bad." Shane: A rehabilitation penguin. He just hopes on your bed in the morning. Ryan: Just starts smacking me in the face with his little fins. It's great, I love it.

Shane: I think she shouldn't have killed her husband. Have a little faith in his worm farm.

#long post #buzzfeed unsolved #wine and crime #ryan bergara #shane madej #sometimes i write

224 notes · View notes

whiskynottea · 5 years

Photo

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35, Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40, Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44, Chapter 45, Chapter 46, Chapter 47, Chapter 48, Chapter 49, Chapter 50, Chapter 51 Chapter 52, Chapter 53, Chapter 54, Chapter 55, Chapter 56, Chapter 57, Chapter 58, Chapter 59

AO3

(long) A/N: This story was born as a result of my procrastination. I wrote the first chapter instead of working on the paper for my PhD, an evening I was alone in the lab. I couldn’t resist, because I could see Jamie right there in front of me, teasing Claire in the class. Now, a year and a half later, I have finished writing my paper and my PhD thesis, got my PhD and I prepare for the next stage of my life. I guess what I want to say is… It has been a journey.

I posted the first chapter as a one-shot and your feedback made me go on. Back then I knew the beginning and the end of this story and thought it would be about 20 chapters long. Well, these two kids had other plans. They had so much to do in between, to live together, that the story kept becoming longer and longer. And I loved it. I loved writing them. I really, really did.

When I was a few chapters in, I posted something about English not being my native language (as if that wasn’t obvious -- I had just started writing in English). The amazing @theministerskat saw that post and sent me a dm offering to beta Thermo. She was the first person I talked to on Tumblr and has stayed with me since then, correcting approximately 124,472,539 wrong prepositions in the process. Kat, I hope you haven’t regretted that dm. I can’t thank you enough. Love you.

So, here we are. The last chapter! Thank you all for the love you have shown to this story. Thank you for your reblogs, comments and likes. Thank you for your messages. Thank you for being a part of this journey! You’re amazing.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Chapter 60. An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics

Oxmas.

A little Christmas bubble in Oxford before the end of the term, created for the students to celebrate the holiday together. Even if it had to be a month early.

Music, colourful Christmas markets, trees going up on the streets -- even at the centre of the old Bodleian court. I could never have imagined the Bodleian court looking more beautiful, but apparently, everything looks better with a Christmas tree.

My legs were hurting from the midnight ice-skating Malva, Mary, and Maisri had dragged me to. The three M’s of my Catastrophe, as I called them. But it was fun. A lot of fun. So much fun that I had forgotten myself for a while and laughed with all my heart.

Then I’d remembered that I would never tell him how great midnight ice-skating with friends was.

Him. Sometimes it was difficult even to think of his name, let alone say it.

But life was going on and I was still at Oxford, with friends and our magical Christmas campus. Thinking about how terrible the holiday would be back at home, I decided that I owed it to myself to have a little bit of fun here.

I didn’t want to think about the end of the term. I was supposed to go to the US and then to Lallybroch with Jamie. Lamb wouldn't be in Edinburgh, because when I announced my initial plans he’d decided that he wouldn’t fly back. He was at a critical point in his research, he’d said.

Back then, it was fine. Lamb was happy and he’d eased my guilt for leaving him alone in a single phone call.

It was the reason I still hadn't told Lamb about Jamie. I didn’t want him to come back because his little niece couldn’t handle a break-up. And now, once the term was over, I would spend a month in Edinburgh alone, most probably studying for the next term. The ideal Christmas break. Just awesome.

“You’re still in your pyjamas?” Malva’s eyebrows shot up the moment she entered my dorm room.

“Yes?” I asked confused, as I watched her walking towards me, shaking her head.

“Today is the event at Bodleian’s Old Schools Quad, remember? The one with the projections of maps on the buildings? You said you wanted to go!”

I had said that, but then I forgot about it. It would be amazing, seeing the maps from the Bodleian Library collection projected onto the library’s historic buildings. I shot Malva an apologetic glance and got out of bed. “Give me ten minutes?” I implored, and headed towards my closet.

“We’ll wait for you outside,” she said, before I heard the door click shut.

I wore my favourite pair of jeans and a soft, warm sweater. Boots. A woollen scarf and a beanie, that meant I didn’t have to put any effort into taming my unruly curls. In less than ten minutes, I joined Malva and Mary who were giggling at something next to the front door.

“What?” I asked, walking towards the entrance.

“Well, our little shy daisy here has something to tell you, Claire.”

My eyes shot from Malva’s teasing smile to Mary’s blushing cheeks. “Oh my God! What?”

“It’s nothing!” Mary exclaimed, much louder than normal. Startling herself with her raised voice, her next words came out in a whisper. “It’s nothing, nothing. I’ve only met him once.”

“Him? Who?” I inquired with a grin on my face.

“Alex,” Malva replied instead of Mary, batting her eyelashes and faking a swoon.

“Who is Alex, Mary?”

“This guy,” Mary murmured. “I dropped my scarf last night and he picked it up and gave it back to me. He was so kind, and he smiled…”

“And?” I pushed her, but Mary had hardly heard me, lost in her reverie.

“We were walking in the same direction,” she continued, her voice dreamy. “And we talked, and I don’t know how, but I didn’t stutter at all. He had the most beautiful eyes, and he’s a fresher too.”

“Which college?” Malva asked, chewing her lip. “We should pay him a visit!”

“Nnn-o, no, no.” Mary faltered. “And I don’t know that, anyway. An older guy materialized next to us all of a sudden and told him they had to go. Alex looked at me and said --”

“Till next time,” Malva spoke, imitating a man’s low voice.

“Yes, but not like that, you know,” Mary corrected, smiling and blushing even more. “But he doesn’t have my number and I-- I don’t know how…”

“Come on.” I linked her elbow with mine. “He might be there tonight.”

I was sure Mary hadn’t seen a single projection all night, her eyes scanning the crowd for him, for Alex. It was sweet and honest, and it made my heart hurt. So I focused my attention on the lights dancing on the hundred year old walls. The old and the new, in perfect conjunction. With my eyes on the Old School Quad buildings, I didn’t notice another him until he was standing right next to me.

“That interested in maps, are you?” Robert’s French accent stood out from the British ones around us. I hadn’t seen him since that night at the bar, three days before. We had agreed to go out for drinks again, the way people always do when they say goodbye because they feel like they have to. He had my number and I had his from when we were back in Zambia, but, as expected, neither of us had called.

“It’s enchanting, isn’t it?” I asked in a light voice as I moved my eyes over another projection.

He made a low, affirmative sound, but when I turned my head towards him, he was already looking at me again. “So, how do you find your first Oxmas?”

Robert shrugged. “It’s weird, isn’t it? The term hasn’t finished and I still have to work on an essay for the 26th, but everyone is so cheery. And you know, the trees, the lights…”

“They create a totally different atmosphere,” I finished his thought. “It will be weird when it’s over, going back to the pre-Christmas mood.”

“Definitely,” he agreed. “But I like it.”

“Well, celebrating Christmas twice can’t be bad.”

His eyes changed for a moment, and his mouth became a hard line. Before I had the chance to say something, he smiled.

“Christmas is not my favourite time of the year,” he explained softly.

I was ready to ask how that could be, but I stopped myself in time. His mother. Maybe Christmas brought back memories of family traditions, and his mother was an inextricable part of this time for him. As Ellen had been for Jamie. I wondered whether not having so many memories from my parents was beneficial from time to time. But then, I would give my soul for a few more moments with them.

I took a step towards Robert and squeezed his arm in solidarity. Neither of us spoke, but we didn’t need to.

At some point, Malva disappeared and a bit later I felt someone pinching my arm.

“Ouch!” I turned to look at Mary. “What?” She was blushing again, and when I looked next to her, I saw a skinny guy with brown hair and the sweetest smile who was blushing too.

“I didn’t find him, but he found me,” Mary whispered to me, her eyes shining with happiness. “Do you mind if we leave?”

I bit my lip to stop the smile from growing wider on my face. “No, of course not. Good luck!” I watched them until they disappeared into the crowd.

I spent the rest of the night standing next to Robert, admiring the projections, enjoying the comfortable silence between us, and letting the colours of light sneak into my heart.

“So, what’s the plan now?” he asked once the event was over. He looked around, searching for something. Or someone. “It seems that my friends ditched me,” he observed a moment later.

I snorted. “Yeah, mine too. Not big fans of maps, it seems.”

“Booze sounds better,” he commented.

“Does it?” I wondered.

“Oui. Join me for a pint?” Robert winked at me, then looked nonchalantly at the people leaving the library.

“You know that once I take the beanie off, a jungle of curls will be waiting underneath it?” I half-joked, half-prepared him for what he would see.

Robert laughed, then looked at my beanie as if I was hiding a little monster underneath it.

“You’re right,” he grimaced after a long moment of examination. “We better just walk around.”

His grimace became sincere when he felt my blow to his arm. “You’re an arse,” I added, for good measure.

“I think I’ve heard that one before,” he laughed, rubbing his arm. “That hurt,” he grumbled. “You’re paying for the drinks.”

“Fine! But no hair jokes for the rest of the night!”

“Deal!” he said, tugging on a curl, stretching it out and watching it spring back.

We went to a crowded pub, sat at the only available table in a corner, but Robert didn’t let me pay for the drinks. We talked about life in Oxford, the medical school and his courses on economics, and I tried hard to keep Jamie out of my mind, not to break down just because Robert had some common classes with him. Robert talked about his father’s business in France, and listened to my stories from my travels with Lamb. When we left, he announced that he would walk me back to my dorm, because it was late and he was a gentleman. Ignoring my snort at his description of himself, we started walking towards the dorms of Lady Margaret’s Hall.

It was much quieter now that the events were over, but students were still walking around, laughing, flirting, and giggling. The night was beautiful, and a few stars hung in the clear sky. I took a deep breath and tried to empty my head from all thoughts of my heartbreak. I had fun tonight, and I was allowed to. I was entitled to it.

When we arrived at my dorm, I turned to say goodnight only to find Robert’s face a few inches away from mine. My heart stopped when I felt his hot breath and smelled the peppermint in it, from drops he’d bought from a stall at the Christmas market. I held my breath in turn, knowing that it smelled exactly the same. I had eaten half his peppermint drops on our way back to my dorm.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Before I had time to think, Robert tilted his head closer to me, and the next moment he brushed his lips against mine. It was gentle. A start. An invitation for more.

And I freaked out.

I took a hurried step back, raising a hand to my lips and looking at him through wide eyes.

Robert frowned at me, then took a step back, too. “You’re single, aren’t you?” he implored, perplexed.

“How?” I asked, not wanting to affirm his notion.

“How did I know?”

I nodded.

“You haven’t mentioned him once tonight or the other night at the bar, you’re not constantly on your phone texting him and you didn’t send him a picture from the event. Even though you loved it. It wasn’t so hard to figure out,” he concluded and shrugged, his gaze falling on my lips again.

“I guess I’m quite easy to read,” I murmured and heard him chuckle.

“I like that.”

I nodded again, not knowing what to say. The truth. I had to tell him the truth. I was never good at lies, anyway.

“Robert,” I started and his green eyes locked with mine. He was one of those people who didn’t even have to try to look good. Robert was the definition of a handsome man. But that didn’t matter at all. I took a deep breath and continued. “You’re not wrong. Jamie and I, we…” I swallowed, cursing myself for stumbling. “We broke up. But I’m not ready, and I don’t want to move on before I am. It wouldn’t be fair, to either of us.”

Robert nodded and raised his chin, in defeat or acceptance I wasn’t sure, but kept his eyes low on the ground. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, wanting him to look at me again. “I’m still in love with him.”

At that comment, Robert looked at me and gave me a wistful smile. He took a step towards me again and placed a warm, gentle hand on my cheek. His thumb caressed my cheekbone as he murmured something in French, so low that I wasn’t able to catch it. “You’re a good one, Claire,” he said, at last.

“I don’t know about that,” I disagreed.

“I do,” he insisted, then took a step back and turned to leave. I stayed rooted in place. He had only taken two steps away before he turned back again, grinned at me, and said, “See you around, Miss Bennet.”

As I walked up to my room, I wondered whether he was a good one. If I had made a huge mistake by stopping him, by not kissing him back. He was beautiful, smart and witty, even if he was a little bit more cocky and authoritative than I would like.

And yet, kissing him now didn’t feel right.

Robert had a wonderful French accent, and all I wanted to hear was Jamie’s heavy Scottish one.

I fell onto my bed, hating Jamie for ruining my Oxmas, my chances for a future, my life. Hating myself for loving him so much.

Mary came back from her date after midnight. Alex had kissed her and her exhilaration permeated the thick layer of unhappiness that surrounded me. I was happy for her. I was glad she had found someone who was so like her, who could understand her, and care for her. Who didn’t mind if she was shy or stuttered, and saw the lovely person she was.

By the time Mary fell asleep, I couldn’t find it in me to be upset anymore. But I couldn’t force myself to be happy either. I slipped into my semi-depressed state with ease, and when I realized sleep wasn’t a choice anymore, I put on my thickest winter coat and headed out to the gardens.

I don’t know how long I sat by the river, crying, while trying to stop my stupid heart from suffocating me. At last, I lay down on the cold grass, closed my eyes and wondered what kind of an idiot I would be if I ended up with pneumonia. Maybe that would be enough of a shock to delete Jamie from my mind.

Maybe.

I woke up with the dawn overtaking the night sky and a hand holding mine. My heart began beating faster and faster, and I closed my eyes again, trying to figure out what to do. This wasn’t a woman’s hand. It wasn’t Mary’s, or Malva’s. It was a big, warm, male hand that seemed strangely familiar. But who was I to be sure about the familiarity of hands? I resolved to leap to my feet, take a look at the person lying beside me, and if I didn’t know him, run back to my dorm as fast as I could.

But then he spoke. And his voice was a balm that soothed reality away.

“If I lay here, if I just lay here, will you lie with me and just forget the world?”

My heart stopped and I felt my eyes grow abnormally wide as I opened them again. I tried to breathe, but I couldn’t. I tried to react, to turn and look at him, but I was afraid that he was just a dream and the moment I turned he would dissolve into thin air. He had spoken to me in my dreams before. He had never been there when I had woken up.

“But you’ve never touched me,” I croaked with effort.

“What?” His whisper was barely audible. Tentative.

“You’ve never touched me in my dreams before.”

A chuckle. “Yeah, bummer.” His voice quivered and a shiver ran down my spine. “I couldn’t touch you in my dreams either, Sassenach, and I decided to do something about it.”

My whole body tensed.

The gall of him.

I sat up so quickly the world tilted on its axis for a few seconds. When I found my bearings again, I slowly turned to look at him.

God, he was beautiful. Those red curls, the bright blue eyes, the wide mouth. I suddenly realized why I couldn’t kiss Robert. His soft brown locks, his shining green eyes, his full lips -- they were all wrong. Perfect, but wrong.

A small smile curled Jamie’s lips and I realized he was drinking me in too.

And then it hit me. The hurt, the desperation, the anger.

“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question. It was an interrogation. I set my jaw, resolute to be rigid, determined not to cry.

“I had to see you,” he said in a low voice and moved to take my hand. I snatched it away from him.

“Why? Are you trying to establish a new tradition? Do we have to see each other once a month now that we’re not together?”

“Twenty-six days,” he countered.

“What?” I asked incredulously.

“It’s been twenty-six days since that night.”

That night. I knew exactly how many days it had been. A part of me had died over the course of each one of those days. I kept my hard gaze on Jamie for a long moment, then stood up. “Well, you saw me. Now, goodbye, Jamie.”

“Claire!” he yelled, alarmed, as he sprang up and rushed to me. “Wait.” He towered over me and grabbed my arm, afraid I would leave if he didn’t have a proper hold on me. I didn’t know if he was wrong about that. I wanted to get away, far away from him. Even looking at him hurt. “Please, Sassenach.”

“What do you want?” Ice infused my tone.

“I need to talk to you.”

I didn’t want to listen to him, and yet, I wished for him to tell me everything. I wanted to know his heart, his thoughts. I needed answers, so many answers, but just looking at him and knowing he had decided he didn’t want to be mine was stealing my breath. He was here, but he wasn’t my Jamie anymore.

I took a step to leave and heard him gasp, as if I had shot him. I froze in place, balling my hands into fists.

I was fighting with myself, struggling to find what I wanted, and how much more pain I could handle. I closed my eyes, trying to set my feelings in order before they could choke me.

I felt like I was four again, standing in the aisle with the chocolate bars at the grocery store and trying to choose one. It was one of the few memories I had with my dad, shopping together. I will never forget how I had stared and stared at the chocolates, licking my lips as if I were imagining their taste on my tongue, trying to decide which one I should put in our cart. And then, surprising myself, I had suddenly started crying. Soon my silent tears turned into wailing, bringing my dad’s attention back to me.

“What's wrong, Claire?” he had asked, eyebrows scrunched in a frown.

But I couldn't answer his question. I hadn’t known what was wrong. I only knew that I wanted to do what he had asked and choose only one chocolate, but I also wanted to buy all of them. And I felt tired, too tired to decide. I only wanted my mum, because mum would know which chocolate was the best. So I kept crying, and crying, until my breath came in gasps, and my dad's face was blurry in front of me.

He had held my shoulders and pulled me into a hug, then, his big hand drawing circles on my back to soothe me.

“In here,” he had said afterwards, tapping lightly on my chest, “Snuggle our feelings. And they are so many, sweetheart, that sometimes they don't talk to each other and try to get out of our chest all at once. And we start crying, because we are confused and we don't know how to feel. I want you to take a deep breath, stop crying, and tell me what's wrong.”

And with my father squatting in front of me, his hands tucking errand curls behind my ears, I had told him that I didn't know what I wanted.

I felt the same now, only that I was not four anymore, and I couldn’t throw a fit. Jamie was here, standing in front of me, looking me through pleading eyes, and he was all the chocolates. And yet, I couldn't have him. I couldn't trust him, not anymore, but I didn't want to leave either. I couldn't.

So I inhaled. Exhaled. In and out, again and again, following my dad’s advice. My coat was soaked from lying on the grass for so many hours, and my hands felt like ice cubes. And I decided to listen to him.

“Let’s go find a bench. My arse is freezing.”

I started walking and heard him falling in step behind me, undoing the zipper of his insulated jacket. “Here,” he offered, catching up with me in two wide strides.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I dismissed him, keeping my chin high.

“Please, Sassenach.”

“Don’t call me that!” I hissed, breathing hard. He had decided that I was not his Sassenach before he made that video call. I was plain Claire to him now, and he had better deal with it.

“Please, Claire,” he repeated, rectifying his slip.

I took his jacket begrudgingly and wore it. It was dry and warm, and it smelled like him.

Dammit.

Two minutes later we were sitting on a bench, watching the sky changing from a deep blue to a lighter one. It was beautiful. This would be one of my favourite moments with him if his surprise had happened a month ago. Now, however, I could feel the bitter taste of these twenty-six days in my throat every time I swallowed.

“I’ll hear you.”

“Can I hold yer hands, please?”

“No.” My voice was colder than my hands as I shoved them into his jacket pockets.

Jamie took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. It was such a simple gesture and so him, that I felt my heart clench inside my chest. “I miss ye, Claire,” he whispered. “Every moment, every day.”

I resolved not to talk until he was done, and to keep any tears at bay. I would not cry. I would not.

“I miss ye when I wake up and I don’t find yer text on my phone. I miss ye when the guys do something funny and I can’t text you to laugh with you about it. I miss ye when I finish training and I can’t call ye to see how ye’re doing. I miss ye when I go back to the dorm and canna talk to ye about my day. I wake up every day, knowing that no matter what happens I willna be happy, Claire... I canna think of myself without ye.”

Fuck my resolution. I had to speak.

“You didn’t seem to have any problem with that, twenty-six days ago,” I deadpanned.

“I was a fool.” Jamie’s voice trembled. “I thought… I thought breaking up would be hard, but we’d get over it and then everything would be easier for both of us. I could see ye struggling here, and I couldna even hug you when ye needed me, when ye were tired from long hours in the library. Ye couldna come to my races or be there to calm me down when I was stressed. Another guy in the team broke up with his girlfriend who lived in another State and he got over it, eventually. And we arena in different States, Claire. We live on different continents,” he explained as if that detail had eluded me. “I felt torn all the time, between ye and my life in the US. I ken that I was the one who changed our plans, I was the one who went to Michigan--”

“I never said anything about our plans. I never complained, and I supported your decision from the very first moment. I was the one who told you to go. That is not why we broke up. We broke up because you stopped believing in us. Because you wanted somebody who would be closer to you.”

“No!�� he protested, his gaze bore into mine with insistence and flame. “No, not somebody. Not anybody. I wanted ye to be close to me, and I thought that if we were in a long-distance relationship for years the pain of not seeing each other would become too much, until we couldna take it anymore. Or what we had would become less. I thought that we would gradually fall apart, and I didna want that. I thought that we didna have any other option, Sassenach. Every time that ye missed one of my calls, or I missed yers, I became more sure of it. Then I thought…” he trailed off.

“What? What else did you think, Jamie?” I prompted, impatient. He was a mess but I didn’t feel merciful in that moment to go soft on him. Not after everything I had been through.

“I thought if we were destined to be together, maybe we would find each other again once ended up in the same country. But now I know, Claire. I dinna want to find ye again after how ever many years, and realize that ye don’t want to be mine anymore. That there is a big part of yer life that I know nothing about. I dinna want to miss yer first day in the OR, or yer graduation. I dinna want to miss yer smiles after yer tutorials, even if I can only see them through a screen. I dinna ken what I was thinking when I believed I could do it without you, but I can’t. I can’t and I don’t want to be without you.”

I huffed, partly because I didn’t want to let his words have an impact on me. “Twenty-six days. Took you long enough.”

“I tried, at first. I tried to go on, to tuck you into a corner of my heart and keep living. But I couldn’t, Sassenach, because all of my heart was yers. I could have come to find you after those first few days. And maybe I should have, but I didna, because I wanted to be sure. But no matter how hard I tried, living without ye didna become easier. It became harder. I kent how I was with ye, and now I ken how it is to live without ye. It sucks, Claire. I’m miserable without ye. All I could think of this past month--”

“Twenty-six days,” I interrupted him.

He smiled, shaking his head. “I love ye. A Dhia, I love ye so much it hurts. Twenty-six days. All I could think of was ye, Sassenach. How I wanted to share everything with ye. How I needed to ken where ye are, what ye’re doing, and how ye feel. I missed ye with every breath I took. And now I ken that I canna go on without ye.”

I’d resolved not to cry, but treacherous tears were rolling down my cheeks without asking for my permission.

“And how do I know that you won’t change your mind again? How can I trust you again, Jamie?” My question found its target in his heart, and I saw his sharp intake of breath from the impact. “You broke my heart,” I whispered, as an explanation. “You broke me.”

He looked down for a moment, but quickly locked his eyes on mine again. “I fucked up. I know I did. Forgive, mo nighean donn. Forgive me, please.” He paused for a moment, and extended his hand between us, palm facing up. He didn’t remove it when I didn’t move to take it, and he continued. “All I’m asking for is another chance. One chance, Sassenach. If ye’re not ready, if ye need time, I can wait. I will wait for as long as it takes.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think time would change how I felt. I loved him, I knew I did. But he had given up on us, yielding to his fears. He didn’t believe we would make it through all the years of our separation. He had chosen a life without me and broke me in the process.

Well, and he regretted it. It was clear that he did. I could see it as much in the pain in his eyes as I could hear it in his voice when he spoke.

I watched Jamie’s chest rising and falling with every breath he took while he waited for me to say something. His hair was a mess from all the times he had run his hand through it. I wanted to fix it, and then run my fingers over his cheekbones, over the curve of his lips. And yet, I was frozen in my place. Not even to take his hand that lay on the bench between us.

“How can we ever be the same again?” I asked, unsure. I started caving in, and I didn’t know how to feel about it.

“I dinna want us to be the same. D’ye remember the first time I talked to ye?” he asked with a timid smile. “In Mrs. Fitz’s class, ye were keeping notes on the first law of thermodynamics.”

I didn’t know where he was going with that, but I stayed silent and let him go on.

“The conservation of energy. Nothing is lost, Sassenach; only changed. And I don’t care if we change, as long as we change together. This… Me without ye… It was an interruption in the first law of thermodynamics. Because I was lost. And that’s against the laws of physics.”

I laughed. This was ridiculous. Jamie blushed, and then laughed with me.

“I ken what I want now, Claire. I want ye. I want us. And I will fight for us, if ye let me, because what we had -- what we have -- it’s true. It’s truer than anything I will ever get. It’s more than I could ever ask for.”

I kept my eyes on the river, the grass, the sky. I felt my heart beating faster in response to his words, as if each time he spoke he glued another of its broken parts back in place.

“All I’m asking for, is a chance,” Jamie implored. “A chance to prove myself to ye, mo ghraidh.”

“A chance,” I murmured, trying to sort the tangle of emotions in my chest.

He came closer, now brave enough to take my hands out of my pockets and wrap them in his. “I know ye and ye know me. Ye’re the only person in the world that really knows me. Ye’re my heart and my soul Claire, and I canna leave without them, can I?” Without taking his eyes from me, he leaned into me and kissed me gently on the lips.

And damn him, it felt right. But I didn’t kiss him back. I had more to say.

“You didn’t talk to me.” I kept my voice calm. “You had all these thoughts in your head, and you left me here in the dark, thinking that everything was alright on your end. And when you made up your mind, you just called me to announce the verdict of a trial I didn’t participate in.”

Jamie opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. I guess there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t be a lie. He had decided for both of us.

“This…” I started again. “This is not how things work, how relationships work. If you have second thoughts, I need to know. If you need something I’m not giving you, I need to know. If you believe that we’re fucking falling apart,” I finally barked, unable to keep the anger from my voice, “I. Need. To. Know.”

Jamie nodded, but I was far from finished. “What we’re trying to do is bloody hard. We need to talk, and talking includes the unpleasant discussions too. I’m not going to try again without knowing that you’ll do that.”

“I give ye my word, Claire. We will make this work. I will do anything I can to make sure it does.”

“Will you talk to me? Always?” There was no ice or blaze in my voice now. Just a question. A sincere question that demanded an honest answer.

“Always,” Jamie vowed and leaned into me. “I will not give up on us, ever again,” he whispered on my lips, and I drank the words in.

I had trusted him with my heart before and he broke it. But he was right when he said that I knew him. And I knew he’d torn his own heart apart in the process too. I could still see the pain in the way his sweater hung a little too wide on him, in the black bags underneath his blue eyes. I looked into his eyes, those eyes I knew better than my own, and saw the truth in them.

“One chance, Jamie Fraser. You won’t get another.”

“I willna need another. Ye’re mine and I’m yers, and I will never let you go again.”

“Promise?” I asked, as if that would seal the deal. As if his promise would secure my happiness.

“Promise,” Jamie nodded emphatically, his eyes overflowing with tears that split when he closed them and kissed me again.

And this time, I kissed him back. It was long, and soft, and encompassing. It was an offering of his soul, and I took it, keeping it safe inside my chest. A treasure and a hostage.

“Plus,” Jamie said once we stopped to catch our breath. “I offer you a chance to torture me forever for making the worst mistake of my life.”

I laughed, cupped his cheeks and kissed him again.

I closed my eyes. Life was nothing but chances and choices. Decisions. Paths waiting for us to take them. A huge aisle with chocolate bars.

I looked towards the path in front of me and I saw Jamie and me together -- arguing, fighting, kissing, laughing. I saw a man who wasn’t flawless, but was mine. I saw a future that wasn’t perfect, but was real.

I saw happy moments and sad ones. I saw difficulties and dreams coming true. I saw us facing life with our hands clasped tightly together.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw a risk, but a risk worth taking.

“Challenge accepted, Jamie Fraser.”

And just like that, the next chapter of our lives began.

#thermodynamics #the first law of thermodynamics #jamie x claire #high school AU #college AU #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #last chapter!#I can't believe it!

369 notes · View notes

echo-bleu · 4 years

Text

Vacation

Alex and Michael are on vacation in Paris. This is pure, self-indulgent fluff.

For @acomebackstory, whose prompt was "Malex on vacation in France. Michael keeps attempting to speak bad french with a terrible accent and all the locals hate him and Alex is giving everyone apologetic looks"

This went a little off prompt, but I hope you like it! Every single location and random fact mentioned is real :)

Read on AO3

"First real day of vacation,” Michael says, stretching in the huge hotel bed.

Alex props himself up on his elbow and smiles. “You excited?”

“Yeah! Paris, baby!”

Michael punches the air, and they both laugh. “It's gonna be amazing,” Michael says more quietly.

“You've ever been on vacation before?”

Michael bites his lip. “Not really. Never had someone to go with, or jobs I could take time off from. I took the Airstream out to a couple of places overnight back when I first got it, but that's it. Yesterday was my first time flying.”

Alex feels a little sad at that. He'd pieced it together, from Michael's anxiousness over this vacation and what he's told him about his life in Roswell over the last decade, but it's another thing to hear it confirmed.

“What about you?” Michael asks.

“I've been stationed in different places, and I usually went to explore if I got a chance,” Alex answers. “Mostly on my own, sometimes with the guys from the base, but I've never done something like this.”

“You mean going on a vacation as a couple?”

“Well, yeah, but also picking a place and deciding to go there just to have fun.”

Neither of them asks if they went on vacation as a child. They have something of a tacit agreement not to bring up their childhoods for no good reason, though they've spent many hours talking about the things they've been through. There's just no point ruining their fun by bringing up bad memories.

“So what's the plan for today?” Michael asks. “You said we wouldn't go see the Eiffel Tower until the last day, what are we doing until then?”

“Don't worry, there's plenty of other things to do in Paris. I thought we walk around here, maybe go see Notre-Dame?”

“Didn't it burn down?”

“Only the roof. It's closed to the public, but it's mostly interesting from the outside anyway.”

“How do you know all this? You've been here before?”

“No,” Alex shakes his head, sitting up. “I just did my homework. I like having a plan. You want the shower first?”

“Nah, you take it so you can do your PT while I shower.”

“Thanks.”

Alex is quick as always in the shower, a lifetime of military showers only slowed down a little by the need to sit down. Thankfully, he made sure that the hotel room was accessible before he booked it. By the time he's done, Michael is ready to take his place, and he's even pushed away the armchair to make space for Alex's slim PT mat.

They go down to breakfast half an hour later. The hotel restaurant is lively but not too noisy, and their table is in a corner. They're immediately served croissants and a choice of drinks.

Alex sweetly thanks the waitress in French and she smiles back, answering in kind.

“How do you speak French so well?” Michael asks.

“I told you, I was based in Tunisia for a while,” Alex answers, turning back to him.

“And you learned all the languages of the places you were in? Wait, don't Tunisian speak Arabic?”

“And French. Tunisia was a French colony. I had enough high school French to get by, and my Arabic was really bad, so I took Arabic classes in French.”

“Why would you even do that?” Michael grumbles. “You're such a nerd.”

“That's why you love me,” Alex snorts.

“Who says that's why? I may be secretly hoping to siphon the nerd out of you.”

Alex shakes his head. “You're just as much a nerd as I am. Why do you think I've planned for us to go the Palais de la Découverte tomorrow? They have a huge space exhibition and a conference on exoplanets.”

Michael throws up his arms. “Okay, you've got me. Exoplanets, really?”

“Yeah. I doubt there's going to be anything on telekinetic aliens, but I thought it worth checking out anyway.”

“You're amazing.”

Michael leans in to kiss him, but Alex pulls back, laughing. “Hey, you have a mouthful of croissant!”

“What? They're so good!”

Alex takes one crutch with him when they leave the hotel. He's going to need the support if they're on their feet all day, and he can only pray that his leg with hold up to the end of the week. Michael stops by the front desk in the lobby and butchers some French at the receptionist, grabbing a few pamphlets.

“So,” he starts when they're both standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel. “Where to?” He unfolds one of the pamphlets, which turns out to be a map. “Notre Dame is...there, and we're…can you help me out here?”

Alex watches him with amusement. “Are you actually using a paper map? Who even does that anymore?”

“I do,” Michael says sullenly, struggling to refold the map.

Alex pulls out his phone and brings up Google Maps. “We need to go in this direction,” he points.

Paris, or at least its center, turns out to be a real maze, though. After only a few minutes, they realize that they've been going in the wrong direction, and nothing is making sense, despite the blue dot on Alex's phone supposed to tell them where they are.

“Shit,” Alex beats himself up. “I'm supposed to be trained in this.”

“Not everything is enemy territory,” Michael shrugs. “How about we ask someone?”

Alex bites his lip. He's not quite ready to admit that stopping someone in the streets to ask for directions features in some of his nightmares−it's so stupid. It's a simple thing, yet he can't bring himself to do it.

“Pardon, ici c'est le rue Moon-gee?” Michael loudly asks a woman passing them before he can make a decision. (Sorry, here it is the Moon-gee street?)

The woman looks bewildered and Alex groans, dipping his head in embarrassment.

“Excusez-nous,” he says, summoning his courage. It's easier once the first contact has been made. “Nous cherchons Notre-Dame.” (Excuse us, we're looking for Notre-Dame)

“Descendez la rue jusqu'au bout, et vous la verrez sur la droite,” the woman answers without hesitation. (Go down the street to the end, and you'll see in on your right)

“Merci beaucoup,” Alex smiles at her. (Thank you very much)

“What did I do wrong?” Michael asks.

“It's pronounced 'Monj',” Alex says.

“But why? That doesn't make sense,” Michael complains.

“French spelling actually makes a lot more sense than English once you learn the rules.”

“That can't be true. All those letters that aren't even pronounced?”

Alex shrugs. “Believe what you will,” he smirks.

“Are you making fun of me?”

Alex goes to answer with something flippant, but there's an edge to Michael's voice that wasn't there before. “I'm not,” he says honestly. “I admire that you're bold enough to speak French even though you don't know much of the language. I really do. And there's nothing wrong with a paper map.”

Michael deflates. “I just...I want to get the full experience, you know?”

“I get that,” Alex says. “So do I.” Timidly, he holds his hand out to Michael.

“You think we can do that here?” Michael asks.

“There are so many tourists around, no one is paying attention,” Alex insists.

Michael grabs his hand and holds onto it tightly.

“Just relax. Enjoy the moment.”

“I love you,” Michael says in his ear.

Alex squeezes his hand with a smile.

Notre-Dame's parvis is packed with tourists, so Alex and Michael just take a few moments to admire the huge front, then decide to tour the island it stands on. Behind the front towers, the whole roof is missing, and the stones seem to be held up by scaffolding and no little amount of luck.

They walk hand in hand on the riverside, soaking in the spring sun. The tip of the island, where the two arms of the river meet, has a weeping willow overlooking the water, and they sit for a while on a bench under it. They're even daring enough to kiss.

Alex starts feeling his leg pull after walking for a couple of hours, despite their frequent breaks and the crutch. He tries not to feel guilty about slowing them down, and instead takes them to a small café on the other side of the bridge.

He lets Michael order them coffee in French, only speaking up to provide him with the vocabulary he's missing. The café's little patio overlooks the Seine and it feels a little like paradise, sitting in the sun together, admiring Notre Dame's towers and Paris's architecture from afar. They end up staying for lunch as well.

“We can go get ice cream for desert, I saw that the place that supposedly has the best in Paris is not far from here,” Alex offers.

“Ice cream sounds good, but I want to try crêpes as well,” Michael says.

“We have a week, we can try whatever you want. Did you know crêpes can make up a full meal too? Breton restaurants make buckwheat crêpes that are stuffed with just about anything you want.”

“Okay, then we have to try that.”

The ice creams, from a tiny place on the twin island, are amazing. Alex and Michael lick at their cones while ambling along, playfully stealing each other's ice cream.

They walk a little further along the river, finding barges that actually seem to be lived in, and then a park with blooming flowers at the water level. They end up in the Jardin des Plantes, admiring the color-themed flowerbed and the rare trees, the flora as different from the New Mexico desert as it can be.

Michael steals Alex's phone and looks up every plant they come across.

“I didn't know you liked plants so much,” Alex tells him.

“Not many to geek about in the desert. I've always been curious, but I've never seen so many species in one place before. Or that much green, really.”

“I'll have to take you out more often,” Alex laughs, thinking of the landscapes and forest of Oregon and northern California where he was stationed.

“Did you know there was another river flowing under here once?” Michael reads from the phone. “The...Bee-ye-ver?”

“Bièvre,” Alex corrects, looking over his shoulder. “Almost.”

“Whatever. It was buried under the city because it became too dirty. Seems like a strange idea. Oh, they have a mineralogy exhibition!”

“You mean like stones?”

“Yes! Can we go?”

Michael is giddy with excitement, almost jumping up and down. Alex laughs and nods. How can he say no to that face?

The exhibition turns out to be fairly small, but beautiful, made up of crystals and gems of all sizes. Alex finds Michael staring at large meteorite fragments.

“It's stupid, but I feel a sort of kinship with them,” he explains. “Not like we came from the same place, but there aren't a lot of stuff on Earth that came directly from space.”

“No, I get it. It's like…going to a foreign country where no one speaks English, and running into an Australian?”

Michael laughs. “You know, I actually have no idea if that metaphor is good or not. This is the first time I've been out of the US, beside, you know, before the crash.”

“Right. Definitely have to take you out more.”

“I'll hold you to that. Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

Alex frowns uncomprehendingly at the sudden change of subject. “Why?”

“Your limp is getting worse. It might be time to call it a day, no?”

Alex sighs. “I feel like we've barely done anything.”

“Alex, it's been an amazing day. I mean it. But I really don't want it to end with you in pain.”

“Okay,” Alex nods, biting his lip. “Yes, I probably need to rest my leg. Maybe we can go back out for a walk after dinner, or at least find a nice place to eat.”

“Sure. Hey, taking care of you is also part of this vacation, and it's something I'm going to enjoy, okay? You're not taking anything from me, or whatever you're thinking.”

“I know,” Alex sighs as Michael pulls him closer. “I still need some adjusting, I guess.”

Michael puts an arm around him. “Then we'll adjust together.”

“I love you,” Alex murmurs into the hug. He doesn't say it often, and he feels Michael squeeze him tighter. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. I couldn't be happier to be right here with you.”

#roswell nm #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #fluff #mine #echo's fanfiction

38 notes · View notes