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jae-writes-fanfiction · 4 years

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Oooooo girl I love these prompts!!! For a wild one hows about Robb Stark with genre3 trope2 and locashion7????

A Promise to the Moon

Robb Stark x Reader - 3873 Words - More Freaky Fics

Notes: This is a a dark fic, a Gothic Romance!AU in the style of Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, it features references and occasional quotes from both. I also emulated the writing style (prose and exposition heavy).

The requested prompts were: haunted house/ghost story, memento mori, and a secluded castle/manor. The ghost elements got lost as I wrote it- sorry!

Warnings: a toxic/icky relationship with controlling/possessive behavior (just like the ones in the afformentipmed novels), the word “fuck” is used once, light smut, dated health methods like leeches and bloodletting, major character death. There is no happy ending, Enjoy Responsibly ❤️

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“Let the wind come shake me down! /Deliver me closer to the ground/ I made a promise to the moon.” -Jason Webley

The newspaper advertisement had asked for educated persons of age to apply for the position in person. The grand Winterfell Estate sat desolate among the moors, fog-covered bogs and copses of sickly forests mottled the land and turned the beautiful countryside into a crypt.

The owner and solicitor, a Mister Stark, had requested a tutor for his troubled little sister the estate’s only current inhabitant.

The locket around your neck held your mother’s portrait and served as your only reminder of the life you once lived. Lost in a strange and new place you relied on its familiar weight for comfort.

As you approached the Estate you noticed their family name was carved into the arch above the wooden door. It announced you as an intruder, and your locket confirmed you as an outsider. It made you miss the place you once called home.

The Housekeeper was more than amiable and the child, Arya as you learned she was called, was a verifiable genius. You knew instantly she would benefit from one-on-one specialized instruction. As for Mister Stark, he had yet to appear around the estate- the Housekeeper herself interviewed and appointed you to the position.

The work itself was exhausting and after a week of it, you were desperate for a brief moment of solitude. Arya was never satiated, her thirst for life and adventure outpaced any sort of book work and left you aching from chasing her around.

It was past midnight, the moon already hidden in the vast inky sky when you slunk into the sitting room. You lit the lamps and settled in with one of the many tomes that adorned the room. The pages felt brittle under your fingertips and you turned them ceaselessly.

An accented voice pulled you from the book’s pages, the shock made you snap the book closed harder than you would’ve liked.

“Now what’s a decent sort like you doing out of bed at this hour?”

A man leaned against the entryway, a smile on his face that made you feel exposed and downright sinful. The dark brown of his eyes was mirrored in the curls of his hair which were highlighted with light licks of a scandalous silver that seemed to sparkle under the sparse candlelight.

He smirked and it felt like you were falling through the floor. You could see luggage behind him in the hallway and you wondered why the Housekeeper hadn’t been alerted- and why you hadn’t been warned of such a distinguished intrusion.

“Certainly Sir, you know I cannot answer that,” you said shortly.

You rose quickly, shelved the book, and turned to leave. It was late and the entire situation was highly improper- yet he blocked your path a cheeky grin on his face.

“Have I frightened you?” He taunted you with a wolfish grin, and you felt your face grow hot.

“I am not frightened,” you lied smoothly, “I just wish to retire for the evening.”

He laughed openly seeing right through you. He stepped aside anyway but caught your wrist as you passed. You froze instantly and trembled as he brought your knuckles to his lips. “Goodnight then,” he spoke with a smirk the strange concoction of trepidation and intrigue evident as you pulled away and ran from the room.

It wasn’t until you were secure in your room, your hands clasped over your thundering heart, that you realized he must’ve been your employer whose portrait hung in the very hallway you just ran through.

You struggled to fall asleep, staring up at the ceiling until you thought shapes were starting to appear in the darkness. Yet you must’ve as the next thing you remembered was a burst of light and a loud noise waking you up.

“Oh me!” The Housekeeper wailed, as she announced herself in your chambers the next morning. You winced as she threw open the damask drapes, the sunlight almost blinding.

“I need you to keep Arya on her best behavior today,” she started ranting pulling your clothes out for the day in a flurry, “Mister Stark has returned and the entire west wing must be prepared immediately so I cannot manage the little miss!”

Typically the staff was prepared to assemble his rooms at a moment's notice. The estate’s Master was known to appear and disappear for any length of time at will.

You let the Housekeeper prepare you, and lead you to the same sitting room for your formal introduction. As you entered the room Robb eyed you hungrily and you knew the setting was chosen intentionally.

Embarrassment washed over you as the previous night’s run-in resurfaced in your mind. The only thing you could do was make a heaven out of hell, so you bolstered what confidence you could. No matter how charming and handsome he might be, he wouldn’t win the satisfaction of seeing your unease.

The Housekeeper cleared her throat and shuffled forward, “may I introduce-“

“Mister Stark,” you said smartly cutting her off and gliding forward. You could feel her ire at your break in tradition but knew this was the best way to regain some control over the situation. You smiled coyly and shook his hand with as much indifference as you could muster despite the anticipatory anxiety building in your body.

“Robb, please,” he insisted lightly. He watched you like a cat might watch a mouse and you felt a shiver course through your body as he openly looked over it.

“Is this proper enough an introduction?” The sarcastic lilt to his voice matched his devilish smirk, and you had to admit it was a good look for him.

“You’ll have to forgive me I’m often wary of new faces,” you said sitting across from him, “especially those belonging to nefariously enigmatic gentlemen.”

Robb laughed openly, and in a manic burst of motion took your hand in his. Your heart raced at his slight touch and you tried your best to suppress the smile on your face.

“And how do you find Winterfell? Is she fitting for such a roguish bachelor?”

Your smile faltered briefly, “the estate is beyond magnificent but, I can’t help feeling as if her halls ought to have more life within them.”

Robb nodded to the Housekeeper who still lingered in the doorway, “I do believe that is the first honest answer I’ve ever been given on the subject.”

“It would seem so Sir,” she chirped dutifully.

“Well perhaps I shall extend my stay,” he said a wicked smile spreading across his face as he turned his gaze back to you, “and see what other truths you might impart upon me.”

The Housekeeper made a small disgruntled noise in protest before leaving to summon Arya into the sitting room to formally receive her brother. Apparently, you weren’t the only one to gain her disapproval.

Within the short moment, Robb stood and crossed to stand over you. You titled your face towards him unconsciously, his face close enough to feel his breath on yours as he spoke.

”You intrigue me, ” he said, desire palpable in his voice, ”I will not suffer to let you go again when I wish to become better acquainted.”

You could feel the underlying threat in his words but the temptation to close the space between you eclipsed whatever caution lived in your mind.

You couldn’t explain what drew you to him, despite your better judgment. The only comfort you had was knowing how similarly affected he was by you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he suddenly backed away.

Arya bounded into the room not a moment later, the now frazzled Housekeeper rushing behind her trying to contain the girl. You smiled as they appeared, thankful for the distraction.

The next week was filled with similar close calls filled with double entendres, lingering touches, and companionship like you had never known before. After a month had passed in such a manner it was clear why he was staying- and the house dared to dream that for once he might stay forever.

Like most dreams, it was better left ignored. On another night you strolled under the moonlight along the estate’s often forgotten terraces. Robb held you by the waist as you walked, his grip lower and harsher than would’ve been deemed appropriate. Occasionally, the moon peaked out to reveal a scandalous state of undress on your part, the casual clothes betraying the growing familiarity between you two.

“Winterfell is stunning under the stars, is it not?” Robb glanced at you while speaking and you thought he also looked magnificent highlighted by the cosmos.

You nodded in agreement looking out over the estate’s grounds and gardens.

"You must have become in some degree attached to the house?"

“To a degree,” you answered wryly.

"Arya seems to have become quite attached to you, and I’m willing to wager you to her as well,” Robb continued.

You hummed in agreement, “I believe there is a mutual attachment forming. She’s an extraordinary child."

Robb stopped walking suddenly and turned you harshly in his arms to face him. All traces of levity had melted from his face, replaced with a drastic seriousness you hadn’t expected. “And you would be sorry to part with them?”

You ran your hand over his reassuringly. “I think some part of me will be here always.”

Robb kept a level expression as he continued, waiting to gauge your reaction as he spoke. “Then it is indeed regrettable that Arya must attend a finishing school next year.”

You froze beside him, “next spring?”

Robb nodded solemnly, “I’ve talked it over with her nursemaid and the Housekeeper they both agree you’ve done wonders for her mind but- the decorum benefiting a lady of our station is not something a tutor can impart.”

He paused and spoke then as if he was reassuring himself of the decision, instead of revealing it to you. “So yes, it is imperative she attends a finishing school.”

“Then I must inquire toward other positions,” you mused suddenly afraid the ground under your feet might fall away beneath you.

“Would you be grieved to leave then? I know some schools might permit a lady’s maid to accompany her,” Robb shrugged, “it is the least I could do.”

You tensed and bit your lip, “for her sake I might be able but it is so far away...”

“From what?”

“From you!” You spoke headlessly, finally voicing the thoughts and desires that had grown within you.

“Then I must ask you,” he said hoarsely as if he was unsure for the first time, “forsake neither Arya nor the estate itself, pass through the rest of your life here.”

Your silence unnerved him and you wondered what joke he was playing at. He was by the designation of your employment your superior, he had occasionally offered you crumbs of affection and attention- yet you felt he must know your feelings towards him- and that this was some cruel joke on your behalf.

“Do you doubt me,” he asked when you didn’t answer.

"Entirely,” you said without hesitation. He was too unknown for certainty, too reckless and listless for dependence.

He scoffed openly at your response, "so you have no faith in me?"

"Not a whit."

“Then you shall be convinced,” he hissed gesturing wildly, “have I not treated you as my equal? Have I not entertained your thoughts and whims as I might a dearest friend? Have I not watched you like a man possessed? You strange, you almost unearthly thing,” he gripped your arm tracing the length of it with frenzied kisses, “you will be mine. I shall not suffer your absence in my life!”

You shuddered, a peculiar sob racking through your body as he entreated you.

“I- I cannot answer this,” you cried tearing yourself away, “I cannot choose between my heart and my mind. I cannot see how you love me but rather desire to possess me- and for what love I hold for you, I cannot yet resign my fate so quickly.”

He turned away from you harshly, familiar darkness returning to his eyes. “Then think on these things,” he demanded before stalking away, “I cannot remain here for you to torture me so!”

You could not retreat to your rooms and drop into the soothing arms of sleep, your mind was twisted and confused. What kind of a man manipulated your emotions as a declaration of love? Moreover, what kind of man could confuse love and possession so easily? Your thoughts remained dower as the sleepless night raced on.

As you joined Arya and the Housekeeper for breakfast the next morning you were disheartened to learn Robb had left again.

Two months passed without a word from Rob to you or any persons in his household. Although the grand estate was filled with other employees and your charge- his absence left you strangely cold. But perhaps that was the changing air drifting in from the study’s open window.

“Arya please,” you sighed, “finish the recitation and we can move on for the day.” You rubbed a hand over your temple, your patience growing thin with the young mistresses.

“I don’t want to keep reading boring old books! I want to go outside!” Arya whined as she dramatically closed and pushed the book away from her.

The poor thing had been acting out lately, and it was wearing you down. You sighed and tried to sound as encouraging as possible, “Arya as soon as we finish here I’ll have the Housekeeper scrounge up your play clothes.”

Arya huffed and pushed the stack of books off her desk and onto the floor before crossing her arms belligerently, “I won’t do it!”

“Is that any way to talk to your tutor?”

You looked over at the interruption, Robb leaned against the doorframe with a smile on his face that made you feel as if you were seeing the sun for the first time in days.

Arya shrieked excitedly at the sight of her brother and bolted from her chair to wrap her arms around him as much as she could. She babbled in great run-on-sentences trying to condense the last month without him into whatever fragment of time she currently had.

He listened politely, the entire time his eyes never left yours. “Arya, it is clear to me that you’ll have no capacity for more studies today,” he said, finally looking at his sister, “why don’t you take the dogs and see what you can discover outside?”

Arya howled and ran from the room, you could hear her rapid footfalls and exaggerated cries rousing the Housekeeper and kennel master to her aid.

Then it was just you and Robb. You stood rapidly and all but threw yourself into his arms. You moved without thinking, unsure if you could survive another second apart. He pulled you flush against him, his strong grip threatened to bruise your hips and you didn’t care. You rested your hands against his chest, unable to hide the smile on your face before you kissed him.

“I suppose this means you haven’t been preparing to completely divorce yourself from the estate,” Robb joked dryly.

“No,” you said a little dejectedly, “how could I, knowing you’re out in the world somewhere.”

You looked away from him suddenly overwhelmed, “It was like I couldn’t breathe like my life-my very soul was separated from me.”

You tried to step away but Robb didn’t relinquish his hold on your waist and moved a hand to keep yours on his chest.

“You’ve absolutely ruined me,” he hissed tightening the grip on your wrist, “do you think I wanted to come back? Do you think I want to be here right now?”

“Let go of me,” you gasped struggling against him your face heated with indignation.

For a second the confidence and malice in Robb’s voice faltered, “stay- do not leave me where I cannot find you!”

“But I didn’t go anywhere,” you insisted, “I’ve been right here doing what I was hired to do.” You were trembling, no longer trying to escape his embrace yet not entirely afraid.

Robb laughed darkly and kissed the top of your head, “you’ve bewitched me body and soul, like some heathen wretch. You pulled me back here. You command me when I have no desire to be commanded.”

He moved to grip your jaw and turn your face to look up into his, the image was striking. You looked spent, as if he’d taken you- your body warm and trembling against him, your breaths shallow and rushed.

“If you left this room I would find you,” he whispered his voice low and heady, sending a shiver down your spine. “If you tried to leave this house I’d track you down.”

“Sir, you forget yourself,” you said lowly. Your voice threatening to break as your body responded wantonly.

“Do I?” He laughed darkly and moved to kiss down the column of your neck pulling phantom moans from your lips. His breath fell warm on your neck and you shuddered as his hand released your jaw and traveled to rest at the base of your neck.

You heard him kick the door closed behind you and a new spark of excitement and fear spread through your body.

The slight pressure at the base of your neck made you ache deliciously. You didn’t stop the strangled moan that fell from your lips as his grip tightened and you chose to put whatever doubts you had away for the moment. You wanted it to be you and him without context or strings to complicate what you were about to do.

Robb released you only to tear at your clothes, his hands running harshly over each flash of newly exposed skin until the locket around your neck was the only thing you wore. You wantonly returned the favor scraping your nails across his broad shoulders, savoring each groan that slipped from his lips.

You pressed yourself against him, your bodies skin-to-skin as the tension grew. Each touch was dizzying as if your bodies had been molded to respond to each other. His mouth claimed yours again before biting his way down your neck and you moaned as they bloomed into warm bruises.

“Robb please,” you begged your body no longer content with lingering touches and harsh passes of lips and teeth. You said his name like it was the only prayer you ever learned- the only one that mattered.

Almost tenderly he laid you down across one of the study’s couches. His fingers softly traced the side of your body as if for that second he was truly in awe of your form. He ducked his head to kiss your chest, your locket falling back against your shoulder sending a flash of light across your body.

You impatiently reached and pulled him over you, weaving a hand through his hair as you moved him into a searing kiss. You felt him against you and you desperately hooked one of your legs around his hip urging him forward until nothing separated you.

You lay trembling under him, your grip on his shoulders the only real thing in the world until a ferocious rapping started at the closed door. You both froze hoping whoever it was would move on, instead, you could hear the Housekeeper muttering to herself as the knocking continued.

Finally, she called through the door, “Lady Arya has requested your presence for tea.”

Robb swore and pushed away from you hastily donning his clothes.

“Fuck,” you mumbled grasping wildly to cover yourself as Robb stormed from the room shouting at the Housekeeper the entire time.

Without looking at you she slid into the room, keeping herself turned away as you redressed.

“I do not apologize for the intrusion given the improper extenuating circumstances,” she said tersely, “but we will be taking tea alone as soon as you’re no longer... indisposed.”

“I see no reason why we should take tea alone,” you protested, “Arya would certainly fear something was amiss given our absence.”

She spun to face you her face still composed into a stern line, “it is precisely for Arya’s sake that I am concerned.” You had never heard her voice like that before and suddenly you felt like you were a child again being scolded at primary school without companions to defend you.

It was a trap; that was the only thing you were certain of as you sat across the wisened Housekeeper a pristine tea set between you.

“You are aware Mister Stark is our employer,” she said with a terse smile.

“Yes Ma’am I do.”

The older woman across from you pursed her lips and took a measured sip of her tea. “This has happened before,” she started quietly, “you don’t know what you’re getting into. He is too stern for grace, an unreclaimed creature.”

“He's more myself than I am,” you whispered harshly unable to meet the Housekeeper’s eyes.

“You will ruin this house if you stay,” she hissed reaching across the table to grip your arm. “There will be no going back if you give into him, think of Arya...”

You remembered the darkness behind his eyes, the harsh grip of his hands on your hips, and knew she was just as correct as you were- despite that you could feel the familiar tug in your heart that connected you and knew you couldn’t leave.

Of course, she had seen this passion play before. The ending was known to her, it was written on the estate’s walls plainly for everyone but you and your charge who hoped beyond measure for the happy ending that would not be coming.

Robb spent the next thirteen months within the claustrophobic walls of his grand estate, his venomous temper directed at everyone when they felt too restrictive. But he couldn’t fathom leaving with you there and unclaimed, unwatched, and unprotected.

Your frenzied romance and rushed engagement distracted you to no end. By the time you realized something was wrong your face refused to hold any color, and your entire body ached with pain and fever. The first time he left the estate grounds was to fetch your doctor. But, in essence, it was too late.

“Robb,” you called reaching for him. You struggled to breathe and the contented sigh on your lips disfigured itself into a ghastly groan that made your lover weep.

Your locket dangled from his hands like a rosary and you wondered if that strange blasphemous reverence played a part in this destruction.

Neither the leeches placed along the curve of your hip nor the soft drops of blood let from your arm could prevent the advancing cold that spread in your veins and eventually closed your eyes.

Your strangled coughs stopped, the air in your lungs ran cold and your blood stopped running altogether. The thin red lines flowing from your lips and skin dried and all at once, the bloody affair was over. There was no fanfare, the world didn’t end. Winterfell and her Master remained as they had for the last forty years and would for forty more without you. Nestled into the sparse and desolate countryside your ghost couldn’t even be tempted forth for comfort.

#freakyfics #gothic romance AU #robb stark x reader #got fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #I really went hard using my degree on this one folks I emulated writing style and everything

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castielgeralt · 3 years

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How to Study Plot and Character in Your Favorite Stories: 5 Easy Steps

What if I told you the best way to learn how to create amazing plots and characters in your own stories was by purposeful osmosis? First, of course, I might have to explain that “purposeful osmosis” means reading lots and lots of books and watching lots and lots of movies–and consciously studying what it is about them that works. With that explanation out of the way, chances are you’re in agreement. But chances are, you’re also not entirely sure how to actually make this happen. Just how do you figure out how to study plot and character in other people’s stories?

Not too long ago, Wordplayer K.M. Updike (she of the rad initials!) emailed me, asking:

[What is] your process for studying the plot, structure, character arcs, etc., of the books you read and the movies you watch? I’ve been wondering for a while how one goes about studying the writer’s work as they read/watch.

This is an excellent question. After all, it’s easy for Stephen King to say:

Don’t get me wrong: this is a tremendous piece of advice. But it’s also pretty vague.

That’s it? We just … read? And the answers will, what? Come to us?

Yes, actually. To some extent anyway. The more we read and watch good (and bad) stories, the better our own storytelling instincts will get–without our having to do even one thing more.

But in the interest of upping our game here, how about we do a few things more? Today, I’m going to give you an actionable plan for how to study plot and character (and lots more) in your favorite stories.

1. Start With an Action Plan

The first step in being purposeful is, of course, to have a purpose. Often, you may simply want to observe the books you read and the movies you watch generally, letting the story’s own strengths and weaknesses guide your study. But it can help you dig down deeper if you have a list of things you want to consciously pay attention to.

I recommend a short list. The shorter, the better, in fact.

Why? Because your brain can only keep track of so many tangents at once (says the woman with twenty tabs open in her browser). You’ll get better results if you focus on one or two primary elements or techniques at a time.

For example, lately, I’ve been concentrating on dialogue (both because it’s something I’m working on myself and because I’m planning a series of blog posts on dialogue for sometime next year). I watch the ebb and flow of dialogue, taking note of what works and what doesn’t. What’s the effect–and why did the author intend it?

This isn’t to say, of course, that you can’t also take note of anything interesting, in any category, that reveals itself. But only consciously follow certain rabbits down their holes.

2. Arm Yourself With Highlighters and Pens

Jane Eyre: The Writer’s Digest Annotated Classic (Amazon affiliate link)

This is for serious studiers only. Seriously, I only do this one when I’m in full battle mode (e.g., like when I was dissecting Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre, so I could write about its brilliant techniques in Jane Eyre: The Writer’s Digest Annotated Classic).

This is where you’re going to want to divide your studying into a few more categories–one for each color of highlighter. Go through the book, highlighting appropriately, whenever you find an interesting passage. Write notes with abandon in the margins. Then, when you’ve finished, go through again and type up your notes, expanding on them to fully record your reactions and new knowledge.

I say this is only for serious studiers primarily because this is a fast track to interfering with reading-as-pure-pleasure (and also to making a mess of your paperbacks).

This is rigorous studying at its best and will require your full brain power. No reading-to-get-to-sleep when you’re doing this.

3. Break Down the Structure

The surest way to get a grasp on plot and story structure is by consciously breaking down the structure in books and movies–as I do regularly for the Story Structure Database. How do I do this?

Start with an easy shortcut: divide the total page count of a book or the total running time of a movie by eight. Why? Because the major structural moments happen at each eighth of the story:

1. Inciting Event (12%)

2. First Plot Point / End of the First Act (25%)

3. First Pinch Point (37%)

4. Midpoint / Halfway through the Second Act (50%)

5. Second Pinch Point (62%)

6. Third Plot Point / Beginning of Third Act (75%)

7. Climax (88%)

For movies, I use my handy dry-erase board notebook to note the approximate minute of each turning point, so I can easily watch the run time and take note of what’s happening.

For books, I use little Book Darts bookmarks to mark the appropriate page at each turning point.

This way, I’m not totally adrift within the story. I can watch the clock or the page count and know to be on the watch for the respective structural moment roundabout there.

This is a fabulous way to grasp story structure as a whole and, just as importantly, to understand how the various structural elements can manifest in vastly different ways from story to story.

You can study my many examples in the Story Structure Database.

4. Examine Your Reactions

Whenever you finish a story, give yourself a moment before rushing off to the next thing. Just sit there and think about your reactions to what you just experienced. Ask yourself:

How did the story make you feel?

What did you like about it?

What did you dislike?

Do you think it was an objectively good story?

Did you dislike it anyway? Why?

Do you think it was an objectively problematic or even bad story?

Did you like it anyway? Why?

Within the answers to these questions lies your greatest opportunity for growth as a writer. If you can distill your often nebulous feelings about a story down into logical facts about what made you feel that way, you will then be able to add other authors’ effective weapons to your own arsenal.

I use this technique after every story I read or watch. It’s where I get the ideas for fully half the posts on this site.

5. Transcribe the Prose

This trick is especially useful if you’re trying to crack the code of, not just great storytelling, but great writing. What is it about some authors’ prose that makes it sing so effortlessly and powerfully? The whole point of great prose is that it’s flawless: we’re not supposed to think about it, we’re not supposed to see the cracks where the pieces are joined together. If we saw the cracks, that would defeat the whole purpose.

As a result, simply reading great prose isn’t always the most effective way to learn how to write awesome prose of your own. What you need to do is sit down with a notebook and pen and a favorite book–and start transcribing passages. I recommend doing this longhand, with an actual pen, since this will slow you down and force you to think about and absorb each word and punctuation choice.

I used to do this every day, and it never failed to amaze me how it allowed me to suddenly see the building blocks the authors had used in crafting their prose. Their seemingly inimitable mastery of wordcraft was suddenly within my grasp. It was something I could learn–and that you can too!

Afraid Studying Will Ruin Your Reading? Don’t Be

Although you can learn from other authors, such as me, who break down stories and share what they’re learning in blogs and books, you’ll get more out of the experience by also doing it yourself. Start approaching your book reading and movie watching purposefully with an intent to logically identify and utilize the tools handed to you by authors you love.

But what if it ruins your reading and watching?

It’s true, it might. Some authors use these practices and find themselves growing hypecritical. But, frankly, it shouldn’t. The more I learn to identify how other authors are using the craft, the more I appreciate their stories. Give it a try. You’ll transform both your appreciation of stories in general and your own writing.

#thalia romme

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nauseateddrive · 3 years

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4 POEMS by Jake Sheff

Elegy for Dog I: A Failed Acrostic

January was tired when it became king. Apples here love being red in the spring, Casting shadows against the stone architraves our Kapellmeister will never live down. You Stole Apollo’s cows, and let them graze to show me Heaven’s template. Where do failed heroes go? Eucalyptus cupolas and polar icecaps Frame the downtrodden gods. But you weren’t Freakishly wrong, as I so often am, on your

Joyride through nearly twice eight years, Á la someone far from beauty’s stepmom. Copper coin or grimacing sun? I’ve got 20,000 Kor of crushed grief on this threshing floor. Shark-sparks of sadness flood the impetiginous air… How, and why, do clouds cobblestone Entire days, and lakes, when you’re not here? Fixing every broken thing, poets go where Ferns and geraniums baptize the morning.

“Jur-any-oms,” is how you’d spell it; After all, a dog’s a dog, and wisdom knows futility. Cassations make a rusty brew, to drink the truth of truths, and Kill whatever ceases wanting to be new. Stewardship, the color of gravity’s silence, naturally Houses every “glur” (a glittery blur); go chase what plays Eternal games. I hear the swans by Rooster Rock. Your handsome Face, its happy handsomeness, in memory’s eye, goes in and out of Focus; in love’s better eye: your goodness neath its everblooming ficus.

Gravity and Grace on SW Murray Scholls Drive

“Impatience has ruined many excellent men who, rejecting the slow, sure way, court destruction by rising too quickly.” Tacitus, The Annals of Imperial Rome

The traffic lights control the people’s actions, but Not their feelings, as the limits of philosophy Collide head on with the nose of a Dalmatian.

I tell you, the day is stress-testing itself, and these Sidewalks wish that it’d just gone straight. Geese Take this sky-hairing wind for granted, as they

Land on the lake like memorable speech on The sensitive soul. Time is never sharp, but it’s Cutting something in the credit union. Maybe

It’s dancing a back Corte for the woman in line Thinking about the taste of limes from Temecula As she waits for the teller. Air Alaska and that

Haunted pie in the sky are not the only reasons For all the volatility in the air today. Rushing And perfectionism both produce a loss; behind

The Safeway Pharmacy, you’ll see the small Smells of both, sloshing around to the ticking- Sound of the ocean’s tides. I must admit, I am

Frozen in place by the sight of steam from Joe’s Burgers; it is poetry’s pale tongue, rising in And arousing the air. This neighborhood’s street-

Lights are more serious than kokeshi dolls. Lights From its windows outshine poison dart frogs. Maybe to forget about life for awhile, the lamps

Are focused on The Population Bomb? ‘Easy Tiger,’ all these incidents whisper. Each day’s A sign twirler’s dais; each corner a promise

Of something more in a different direction: it isn’t A marriageable daughter or impoverishment, But inguinal ingenuity plays a part, and that isn’t

Bad at all. What oaths and paths went here Before Walmart? What voices were voided by The liquor store? What are vague’s values

When the library shares a parking lot with a 24- Hour gym and a cargo cult? Gas stations satirize The Queen of Hearts; I tell you, it makes every

Question seem incidental. Treaty-breakers in Pajamas swing on the swing sets. Was August That full of angst? It feels like autumn went too

Far on accident. Desertification, in a sugar tong Splint, takes a shot of ouzo and talks shit About the death of Brutus, but my Bible-thumping

Memory – on a ski hill in Duluth – is also too busy Watching some ducks on the lake to notice; and Desertification makes a face at me like a Swedish

Film. Poets make for poorly picked men to Familiarity’s paymaster-general. The Calvinistic Rain is an ill-starred attempt to make mayonnaise-

Fries just for me, but I must admit, it all seems – You know – cybernetic. And step-motherly as all Get out, if you ask the trees. They prefer “You

Can’t Hurry Love,” by The Supremes, to any Changes that take effect in one to two pay periods. Pretext ricochets; a perfect reverse promenade.

At Summer Lake, When the Vegetables are Sleeping

Cruelty drinks all the wine, and never gets drunk On these shores. When Summer Lake speaks, In every word, an introduction to the world. I am

Easily duped. The greatest duper duplicates my pride, Which always lingers, in the hallways of my heart And beneath the surface of Summer Lake. The sky is

Supplicating, it’s literally shaking. An hour passes Faster here, the hour always held too dearly dear In paranoid and ivied walls. The ducks can do

An unwise thing correctly, and it sounds more like Dusty than Buffalo Springfield to the enokitake Sold in Springfield, Illinois, which is the opposite

Effect it has on the wild mushrooms on these shores. On cables capable of love, the geese convince The weather to taste like kvass today. Basically,

Another Cuban Missile Crisis drowned itself just Now. The clouds might ask themselves, ‘Is lowliness Allowed here?’ To which the crows might ask,

‘Does omertà sound like lightning?’ The answer’s Oubliette is ten times worse than impotence. Summer Lake isn’t smart, but it stays quiet, like

Someone too smart to say all they know. ‘Whoa, Sweet potato,’ the capital gains tax mutters To itself, knowing that what matters doesn’t mean

A thing. Some say the lake bottom’s sands receive Commands from Hearst Castle, others say Its hands are King City’s hands, and still others

Maintain more sins have been than grains of sand Times secondary gains, and that explains The beauty and industry that none can see but

All can feel on these shores. (Some possibilities Play possum, or get opsonized by hate; this one snores Like Rip Van Winkle.) This orb-weaver spider is

The Milton Friedman of Summer Lake, the wind On her web is Grenache from The Rocks District Of Milton-Freewater AVA for the eyes. The day is

Stereotypical, although it feels like three days In one…But for the lake’s good counterfactual Questions, I would forget that some die young,

But most die wrong. I’ve tried to pick up Summer Lake’s reflections in three lines or less, but The hardest truth is your own impotence. Oh,

It’s hard to hand your power over to a thing No one can see. Hopped up on distinctions – not The obvious distinctions – Summer Lake is pretty;

Cold, but pretty! In the distance, with so many Intercessory prayers, hot air balloons are rising; Shaped like teardrops, upside down and rising.

This lake re-something-or-anothered me. Are first Impressions wrong sometimes? I am a season’s Golden calf, according to the sunlight, doing

A prospector’s jig on the surface of Summer Lake. If not for the Weimar Republic’s wooden- Headedness, I’d set down my heart-song and

Listen to reason on these shores. I never trust An activist guitar, if the weather is socially clumsy. The future is reflected on the lake: it always

Laughs at us – between its math and gratitude Lessons – and never thinks of (or gives thanks to) Us enough. The presence in the lake juniors

My ears. The day is not too baffling, nor is it Jane Eyre. Space-themed and spiritual, some autumn Leaves are swimming in the rain. The ducks arrest

My attention in the mardy weather, even though they Must know my attention is dying. The barbed wire Around my stated goal is an outcome out of

Their control. Picnickers picnic with acorns and apricots, On blankets covering Holy Schnikey’s death mask. My unsandaled thoughts thrive and increase on these,

And no other shores. They are pets for the days less Important than love, when Summer Lake says it’s Humble, because it knows the right thing to say.

Summer Lake gives the comfort of commonly held And seriously absurd beliefs to the blue heron. Nothing is wrong with this lake or anything in it,

Not even the ghost of Amerigo Vespucci. It’s all so Simple to the stiff-necked molecules of water, made out Of frogs and snails and puppy-dog’s tails. These thoughts

Are fine manna in a fine ditch. Post-structuralist squirrels Can tell my heart’s in Italy, and I’m in the intellectual Laity. Chivalry’s technician sees my shovel, and they say,

‘You’ve got to hand it to him.’ Neurocysticercosis Sets the bar high; it looks at this park, and thinks The smartest monkey drew the perfect landscape.

That’s this maple tree’s previous disease, its precious One. It unfurls the ferns of my firm and foremost Beliefs, I’m told, to partialize insufferable vastidity.

We Install a Sump Pump on (What Used To Be) a Holiday (Take 2)

The oppressive heat was born a fully grown Man. I admire the result of its effort, but Despise the means of achieving it. My wife Asserts her individuality in the gunk; her Body’s allegations aren’t too soft or hard today. Her self-interest seems to have drowned in the vortex.

Our little garden knows flippancy with regards To privacy is unwise. The stepping stones can Only blather, as slugs draw nomograms on Their faces. My wife’s body speaks Proto-Indo- European in the vortex and denim overalls. Marc Chagall’s The Poet studies her. He calls her

‘Innocence: The opposite of life! A criminal with A badge!’ I hand her the tools of a crude and Rudimentary faith, and she says, ‘Jill, great books Make fine shackles.’ Her arms only have An administrative objective in the vortex, but They are where good things come from.

Jake Sheff is a pediatrician in Oregon and veteran of the US Air Force. He's married with a daughter and whole lot of pets. Poems of Jake’s are in Radius, The Ekphrastic Review, Crab Orchard Review, The Cossack Review and elsewhere. He won 1st place in the 2017 SFPA speculative poetry contest and a Laureate's Choice prize in the 2019 Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest. Past poems and short stories have been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology and the Pushcart Prize. His chapbook is “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing).

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mizeliza · 4 years

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So, I’m reading Jane Eyre for a class and was wondering why you like the novel? Currently, I’m struggling to get through it, finding the language to be almost disorienting and alienating and Rochester to be unlike able.

You’ve opened a can of worms here because I truly do love Jane Eyre but I am also painfully aware that it is my problematic fave - there are a lot of things that are morally unacceptable by today’s standards in it and yet. And yet.

I’ve tried to mostly keep this spoiler free, because you seem to be in the middle of the book, but the book has been out for 173 years, and many of the things I have say have to do directly with it’s major plot points and eventual ending. For the most part I’ve tried to be vague, but that isn’t always possible, if you care about spoilers, consider yourself duly warned. And if anything is too vague and you need a better explanation with more details, feel free to message me or send in another ask! As you’re about to see I love talking about Jane Eyre lol

Addressing your issues first:

If the language doesn't work for you, unfortunately you’re just going to have to struggle through it. It’s old and that was the style. I first read Jane Eyre for my 11th grade English class and to this day all my friends from that class refer to long, long sentences as Charlotte Bronte sentences. I don’t mind them, but I am also prone to long, long sentences in both my personal and academic work so. But I can definitely see how that could be a barrier for people. If you don’t have to go too deep into annotations or tracking for the class, it’s okay to skim a lot of the longer paragraphs in order to get to more of the action.

Rochester is very unlikeable, but I think that’s sort of the point, he’s one of the original brooding older men that don’t get on with anyone but that somehow has eyes for the young heroine - he sees in her what no one else does and falls in love with her for it. It’s a trope I associate a lot with 2000s/v early 2010s YA novels, and at this point it’s tired and admittedly creepy, but this was part of the origin of it, and I think that’s why it works for me.

Side note - If at the end of it you want to really hate Rochester, read Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys, which is about colonialism and feminism and Bertha Mason and Rochester, during which he definitely comes off worse than in Jane Eyre and she gets to be more than the originator of a very different trope, but make sure to get a version with footnotes or you will be very lost

There are a ton of other problems with it, which I won’t go into, simply because it would take lots of time and lots of space and that isn’t what you asked for.

So back to why I love Jane Eyre:

I once saw it described as the first YA novel and I think that’s a pretty succinct way of looking at it. It’s definitely a coming of age story - from Jane escaping her abusive family members to an even worse boarding school, to her entering into the wider world for the first time, eventually leaving even though she’s in love because she refuses to compromise her morals - more on that later, getting to explore herself and her purpose in life outside of having to worry about her physical, mental, or moral survival, standing up for herself and again refusing to compromise her beliefs, and then, finally, upon realizing what she really wants in life - with the obstacles conveniently removed by fate - she returns on her own terms and gets to live happily ever after. Upon first reading it, as I mentioned above with Rochester, I noticed a lot of aspects that were very familiar to me - several of my annotations in the copy I read for school are just “wow this is just like in harry potter” - but again, they were new at the time. Anyway I just love narratives of women growing up and discovering themselves and chasing after what they want, I just think they’re neat.

I much prefer the first half? 2/3? of the book, up until she leaves Rochester and goes walking across the moors (so dramatic! and yet, what an absolute mood, if I had a moor to wander across in a forlorn state after leaving the person I love because I refused to compromise myself for them I would also go for it and end up half-dead on the doorstep of strangers) than afterwards, when she’s living with the Riverses, simply because I find them boring, especially St. John (whose name is pronounced Sinjin, which infuriated half my English class). Even though I am too afraid to watch or read true horror, I love the concept of a good ambiguously haunted isolated gothic mansion, and Jane Eyre delivers that.

Which brings me to one of my favorite things about the book, I gave a presentation on it in my English class, which I am now realizing was four years ago which is terrifying, what I call the “almost supernatural.” Jane Eyre is filled with things that could be supernatural that aren’t - the Red Room, where Jane is filled with fear at the thought of a ghost, when she first meets Rochester and at first mistakes Pilot the dog for a gytrash, then thinking the house is haunted when strange things start happening, when it turns out to have been a person all along, if not the one everyone told her it was, and even arguably Jane herself, who Rochester refers to as a fairy multiple times. She wants so badly to believe in the supernatural, and strange and interesting things keep happening around her, and even though they’re terrifying, I’ve always gotten sort of an air of disappointment from her when it’s revealed that they’re just normal things. And then, at the very end of the book, something supernatural actually does happen to her, and it’s glossed over like the fact that what happens is physically impossible doesn’t even matter to her, after wanting things to be supernatural the whole book, because she finally knows what she really wants and has the capacity to chase after it.

Finally, I will always take the chance to talk about how I think Jane Eyre is a feminist narrative, and am always willing to argue my point.

By the middle of the book, Jane is in love with Rochester, and he is in love with her, he’s proposed and they’re somewhat happy together, but the situation always feels a bit off to Jane. She still doesn’t really value herself at this point, and he wants to give her nice and expensive things, and she also still feels the power dynamic - she’s an 18-year-old, possibly 19-year-old at this point? I don’t remember all the dates/times, adult but v young, governess and he’s her what, mid thirties at the youngest? rich, land-owning employer. There’s a huge power dynamic there on multiple levels, and unlike earlier, during their talks in the library where she openly calls him ugly and teases him back, at this point because of the changed social dynamic between them because of their engagement and her feelings of inadequacy because of their positions in society, made very clear by Miss Blanche Ingram (another trope that Jane Eyre helped make popular - the single father marrying the governess), Jane no longer feels like she can criticize him. While before, especially while alone, they were on more or less equal footing, she is now all too aware of how unequal they are and she shrinks a bit because of it. Somewhat ironically, Jane has very little agency between her assertion of her agency - “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will” - and her leaving Rochester, during that time she basically lets things happen to her while being somewhat bewildered about them.

And then. And then the truth about Rochester and Thornfield is revealed, and they can no longer be married. And he offers to go away with her, to where no one knows them, to live in sin as husband and wife even though they can’t be actually married. And Jane sticks to her principles. She believes that that’s wrong and she refuses, and rather than be tortured by either the betrayal of her principles or the knowledge that he’s there and loves her and she can’t have him, she leaves. She takes only what she already owned, leaving behind everything he gave her. She finally exerts her agency again, and from then on, she keeps exerting it.

While with the Riverses, she makes her own choices, and her own money, and again refuses a marriage that she feels isn’t right and that doesn't align with her beliefs - this time, she chooses not to marry because neither of them are in love. She rejects what St. John sees as her duty, including what can be seen as rejecting a closer relationship to god and god’s work, when god was the reason for her rejection of Rochester in the first place. Even though I think this part of the book is the most boring, Jane stands up for herself a lot more here, and she asserts herself as a person who values herself, and maybe I should reread it lol. And then, after refusing St. John and asserting her value outside of marriage, and with herself now financially secure and able to be on equal footing, socially, financially, romantically, with Rochester, then she returns to him so that they can have an equal relationship - which it would not have been before.

I hope this was satisfying to you, even though (like Jane Eyre) it is very long and somewhat rambley, and I hope that I manage to improve your experience of the book! Please feel free to send me any responses or other commentary that you have because as shown I really do love to talk about it :)

#else speaks #else answers #anonymous #Jane eyre #charlotte bronte

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harrysbbby · 5 years

Text

Anne of Green Gables!AU - Peter Parker x Stark!Reader - Part 1

AN: i hope you all enjoy the first part! hopefully the second part will be up soon! but please let me know what you think, but it looks like a fair few people were keen based on the preview i posted a few days ago!

Summary: Peter and stark!reader are competitive. They both want to be top of their class and form a rivalry, much like characters Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and Gilbert Blythe from Anne with an E.

You walked into your chem lab on your first Monday back at school. The year had begun about a month prior, but you had been at your summer home in Monte Carlo. You had vacationed there every year for as long as you can remember. And what about school you ask? Well as the daughter of the infamous Tony Stark (who happened to donate heavily to the Midtown School’s science fund), you had fame and fortune on your side.

You were popular, but not overly by choice- your family was famous, and your dad was Iron Man , so people were constantly trying to be your friend. The only person who was your true friend was MJ. She wasn’t faced by the lack of anonymity or star-struck by your father, and that made you feel humble, and normal.

You took your seat next to her for your first class of the day, giving her a sideways hug in greeting (which she pretended to hate, but secretly loved.)

“Welcome back,” she said, not looking up from her textbook. You could see she was already onto chapter 11 (and you knew today you would only be covering chapter 7). “How was your summer?”

“Why thank you,” you smiled as you shifted through your bag for your things. “You know, the usual, we go with every intention of doing family shit, but alas, the world needs saving, Dad flies off, and then I just chill until he comes to bring me home.” You said, flicking to chapter 11 of your textbook, “Also, I read this on the plane home, did you think it was kinda simple?”

MJ rolls her eyes at your ability to be ahead of the class despite lounging in the sun for months on end, “Yeah, it is a little. Did you dye your hair?”

“Oh yeah,” you said, spreading your once dark auburn hair out in front of you. “Dad finally let me go lighter, I was so sick of it being such a terrible red!”

“Don’t you think she’s amazing?” Ned asked aloud. He was staring at the back of Y/N Stark’s head as she was flicking through her textbook. Peter shrugged. He has only started at Midtown that year, finally gaining a scholarship and ready to pursue his academic dreams. He met Ned on the first day, and soon discovered his deeeeep infatuation with the infamous Y/N. Ned had been anticipating her return for weeks.

“She always goes on vacation somewhere exotic, and she comes back looking like the sun-kissed goddess she is,” Ned had eagerly told him.

Peter, however, did not get the hype. She skipped school, barely tried, yet seemed to be on some kind of pedestal because she was famous? It rubbed Peter the wrong way. He had worked so hard to get where he needed to be- he lost his parents, helped May at work, and he studied hard to get where he needs to be... he didn’t buy his way in.

Later that day Peter was walking towards his English class. One hand clasped his second hand laptop, in the other was his glasses. As he rounded the corner, he bumped into someone.

“Sorry…” he began to say but his words were cut off.

“Watch where you’re going,” the boy growled. He looked from Peter’s face down to his hand which carried his glasses, “Maybe if you put these on,” he snatched the glasses from his grip, “you’d actually be able to see.” He chuckled cruelly as he tossed Peter’s glasses over his shoulder. As Peter moved to collect his glasses from the floor, the boy put a hand to his chest to stop him.

“Cut it out Flash,” a voice cut through the air,” Peter turned to see Y/N Stark walking towards them, bag tossed lazily over her shoulder.

“Y/N,” Flash stuttered, “you’re back.”

“I am,” she said crossing her arms as she glared at Flash, “Is there a problem here?” she asked icily.

“Nope,” Flash said, leaning down to pick Peter’s glasses up. He shoved them back into his hands, and Peter fumbled to clasp them in his fingers.

“Good,” Y/N raised her eyebrow at him, “we’ll see you later then.”

Flash nodded and retreated, hands raised in truce. As he disappeared around the corner, Y/N turned to Peter, but he focused forward.

You followed him down the hall, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he answered shortly. His answer took you aback, but you took three large strides to catch up with the boy.

“I wouldn’t worry about Flash,” you said, “he’s just a bully, always has been.”

Peter nodded in slight acknowledgement but continue to train forward towards his class. Taking no social cues, you continued,

“It’s really because his mother and father don’t have much do to with him, but he would never admit that,” you said, “so what’s your name?”

Peter didn’t answer, he only picked up his pace as he dodged other students within the halls.

Your brow furrowed as you struggled against the crowd to stay apace, “oh, um, what’s your name?” you asked again, but to no avail.

As you reached the classroom, he abruptly stopped. You skidded to a halt behind him as he turned around.

“Look,” he started, “I’m sorry if I was rude. I’m Peter.” He eventually caved. You smiled at him, as the two of you entered through the doorway into the English classroom.

“Hello, Peter, I’m…”

“Y/N!” You heard multiple names holler at you. You turned from him to see Betty, Gwen and countless other students rushing toward you. They grabbed both your arms, as they ushered you into the room, bombarding you with questions about your summer, and bout Iron Man’s latest mission.

As Peter went to step into the room further, he was stopped by a body.

“What were you doing walking with Y/N?” the boy asked him. Peter looked up at the boy, he was tall and strapping and looked as if he had taken one too many footballs to the head.

“Excuse me?” Peter asked incredulously.

“You better stay away from her. Harry Osborn’s claimed her, so you better not try anything.” The boy said threatening, gesturing over his shoulder to a blonde boy sitting on one of the desks. He was showering a few admiring girls a very expensive looking watch.

“Claimed her?” Peter asked again. The boy rolled his eyes and shoved Peter, but before he could say anything else, a voice interrupted him.

“Brad, just leave it,” it was the Harry boy who had spoken. Peter looked over Brad’s shoulder to see him traipsing towards them. He clasped his hand onto Brad’s shoulder before glaring down at Peter.

“We have no need to fraternise with ugly orphans,” he let out a witch-like cackle, before he and Brad made their way back to their table. Peter shuffled quietly to a seat near the front of the room. He timidly brought out his binder and looked around the room. He saw Y/N sitting a few rows behind him, intently reading the class text.

You could feel eyes watching you, and as you looked up from Jane Eyre, you could see a pair of brown eyes staring back at you.

Y/N happened to look up as Peter was staring. He felt a blush creep up his neck, embarrassed he’d been caught, but he felt at ease as she slightly lifted her fingers off the side of the book in a small wave.

And smiled at him across the room.

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isitgintimeyet · 5 years

Text

Road To The Aisles

AO3

Thanks for sticking with this story. Hope you enjoy.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge @happytoobserve @wickedgoodbooks for the support

Chapter 15: An Ominous Objective

“It is a long way off, sir"

"From what Jane?"

"From England and from Thornfield: and ___"

"Well?"

"From you, sir”

Charlotte Brontë - Jane Eyre

Jamie glared at the stationary traffic in front of him. Driving through Glasgow city centre at five on a Friday afternoon was definitely not on his list of favourite things to be doing. He loosened his tie and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. What he really wanted to be doing right now involved a glass of wine, a shower and a naked Claire. Actually, no, he corrected himself. What he really wanted was playtime with William and then, once the lad was asleep in his cot, the wine, shower and naked Claire.

The journey across the city to pick William up was a total pain, but at least Jamie knew it would be coming to an end once William started nursery. It was fortunate that the nursery he and Geneva had selected was midway between their respective homes. Jamie felt that was more by luck than judgement. Geneva would never have deliberately considered making it easier for him in any way. And if he hadn’t been contributing half towards fees, he doubted he would have had any input at all into nursery selection.

This ‘midway’ nursery had ticked all the boxes on Geneva’s extensive checklist and she had been suitably impressed by the calibre of the cars at pick up time. Jamie had been more concerned with the calibre of the nursery staff that would be caring for his son, but the nursery scored highly on all fronts.

As the red brake lights on the cars in front disappeared, Jamie crept forward, grinding to a halt after a couple of yards. He sighed loudly. Geneva was a stickler for good timekeeping, and if this traffic continued, he would be late and undoubtedly earn a ‘talking to’ on parental commitment. Still, it was worth any amount of ‘Geneva-isms’ to be able to spend time with his son.

He considered their plans for this weekend. Friday night was obviously taken care of (playtime, wine, shower, naked Claire). As Claire was working on Sunday, Jamie planned to take William swimming for the first time. He smiled at the thought of the cute swimming nappy, covered with brightly coloured fish, in the chest of drawers at home ready for his son. He hadn’t quite figured out the logistics of getting a five month old baby dry and dressed at the same time as getting himself dry and dressed, but assumed there were facilities at the swimming pool to cope with that.

Finally, the traffic started moving and Jamie pulled up outside Geneva’s house with three minutes to spare. Feeling slightly wrinkled and sweaty, he rang the doorbell.

“Hello, James.”

The sight of Louisa Dunsany caught Jamie off-guard.

“Louisa,” Jamie greeted her politely. “I didna realise ye were up here visiting.”

She looked him up and down, making him feel self-conscious about any possible sweat patches on his shirt. He pushed that thought from his mind. He was here to collect his son, not to be judged by the boy’s disagreeable grandmother.

“There’s no reason why you would know that. Geneva doesn’t have to notify you of her social calendar.”

Louisa stepped aside to allow Jamie into the hallway before leading him into the living room.

“Actually,” Louisa carried on talking over her shoulder. “I’m here to help Geneva out. She’s not here today, so I’ve been taking care of my grandson.”

Jamie rushed across the room to where William sat in his little seat. He quickly scooped him up and held him tightly, blowing loud raspberries against his son’s soft cheeks. William chuckled and grabbed a fistful of his father’s curls.

Louisa sniffed. “So that’s where he’s learnt that trick from, is it?”

There was no humour in her voice.

Jamie paid no attention and carried on entertaining William.

“She’s flown down to Manchester for the day,” Louisa spoke without prompting. “To discuss an exciting opportunity for her, moving forward.”

Jamie suddenly stopped tickling the baby and gave Louisa his full attention.

“What do ye mean?”

“Oh, may be nothing. We’ll just have to wait and see. I’ll go and fetch William’s cardigan. We don’t want him catching a chill.”

No amount of questioning on Jamie’s part could make Louisa provide any more information. He tried repeatedly as they headed to the front door but, for once, Louisa was as silent as the grave.

He drove slowly home, trying to focus on the road while William babbled and cooed in the back of the car. Louisa’s comment kept circling in his mind which, he supposed, had been her intention -- to turn a potentially innocent activity of Geneva’s into something for Jamie to worry and fret about. Which she has managed successfully, he told himself and tried to push those thoughts away and concentrate on his ongoing project of teaching William to say ‘dada’.

***********

Claire was waiting as he came into the house carrying William in his car seat.

“Any luck?” She asked, kissing the baby’s forehead.

“Nah, I kept repeating it but he wasna willing tae give it a go.”

“You know, when he does actually start saying ‘dada’, he won’t be referencing you, it’s just a sound.”

“Nah, ye’re wrong there, Sassenach. He kens his da and he’ll soon be calling fer me by name.”

Claire rolled her eyes and tutted. “Alright. Have it your way.”

Jamie deposited the car seat on the floor of the living room as Claire knelt and began undoing the straps securing William. Jamie settled himself on the sofa and watched for a moment, her face lighting up as William smiled contentedly at her, his fingers pulling at her lips. Laughing, she caught them in her mouth, pretending to eat them to the baby’s delight. Jamie’s stomach lurched, if anything should happen to change this arrangement...

“That bloody woman…” he blurted out.

“Geneva?”

“Nah, her bloody mother. She likes tae try and twist the knife whenever she can. She informed me today that she was minding William as Geneva had gone tae Manchester for an ‘exciting opportunity for her future’. What if it’s a job? What if Geneva’s planning tae move tae Manchester?”

Jamie stood up and began pacing.

“What if she’s trying tae take ma son away?” His voice grew louder and more agitated. “I canna have that. He canna be 4 hours away from me.”

William’s eyes opened wide in shock at the unfamiliar cadence in his father’s voice and he suddenly let out a heartrending wail. Claire picked him up and rocked him, gently rubbing his back until his sobs subsided.

“Hush, hush,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s ok. Your Da didn’t mean to scare you.”

She glared at Jamie. “Jamie, voice, please.”

Jamie crouched next to Claire and stroked William’s head. “Sorry, lad. I dinna mean tae scare ye, it’s jes’... Claire, I couldna bear it.”

Holding William in one arm, Claire reached over to Jamie, pulling him onto the carpet next to her. She leant against his chest.

“James Fraser, that isn’t going to happen… for many reasons.”

Claire shifted William, his warm, chubby body nestled between herself and Jamie. She batted the baby’s hand gently away from her mouth as she tried to carry on talking.

“First of all, this is Louisa, who will say anything to try and get a reaction from you. For all you know, Geneva could have gone to Manchester to meet a friend. Second of all, Geneva will be back at work in a couple of weeks. Perhaps she had to go down to meet with a client. Thirdly, even if it is a new job there’s such a thing as remote working and...”

“And?” Jamie prompted.

“And I think we talk to John, get his advice… talk to Ned.”

“So ye do think she’s planning tae leave?” Jamie pulled his son closer to him.

“Noooo, well, we don’t really know, but it does no harm in being prepared. In the hospital, we have plans for major incidents -- evacuations, that type of thing. We never have to use them, but they’re there just in case. Consider it like that. Why not invite John around tomorrow for coffee and we can talk it through?”

“Aye, happen ye’re right. I’ll give John a call when William’s asleep.” Jamie paused for a moment and watched his son, now tugging on Claire’s hair. “She wouldna be so cruel, would she?”

**************

With William fast asleep in his cot, Jamie poured himself a glass of wine and sat down to make some phone calls.

The first call went directly through to voicemail. “Geneva, it’s Jamie. Call me back please… urgently.”

Claire came to sit beside him. “She may think there’s a problem with William from that message.”

“Let her worry, she’s made me do enough of that over this past year.” Jamie pulled a face then looked across at Claire. “Ok, ok. I’ll send her a text tae say William is fine.”

Jamie put the phone onto speaker for the next call.

“John, Hello. How ye doing, man?”

“Hi, John.”

“Hello, Jamie, Claire. I’m not doing too bad, thanks. Bit achy after our gym session last night, though. You up for another round? I thought you had William this weekend.”

“Aye, we do. Nah, it’s no’ about the gym. Are ye around fer coffee and a chat tomorrow morning? We may have a bit of a problem.”

“I’m free for coffee but let me guess… Geneva?”

“However did ye ken?” Jamie gave a humourless laugh and grimaced. “Aye, we think Geneva went fer a job interview in Manchester. What if she wants tae move away? Tae Manchester? She canna take ma son away, there must be laws, something we can do.”

“Jamie, don’t panic.” John’s voice was calm, reassuring. “There are things you can do. Hopefully it won’t come to that, but you’re right to find out the options early.”

“Lessons learnt, John… lessons learnt. Well, thanks for that. See ye tomorrow, about ten, aye?”

“Bye Jamie, Claire. I will be expecting those good croissants, by the way.”

The phone call ended, Jamie breathed a huge sigh.

Claire could still feel the tension in Jamie’s body, the muscles clenched tightly. She ran her fingers over the hard lines of his shoulders and neck, her hands seeking out the knots caused by Louisa’s intimations. Jamie groaned in pleasure as her thumbs massaged a particularly tender spot.

Her hands stopped their movements. “Listen. Why don’t you go and have a long, hot shower? Let the water get rid of all that tension.”

Jamie didn’t really need any time to think about this suggestion. His plans for the evening, originally scuppered by Louisa, now seemed to be falling back into place - he’d had a fun evening with his son, there was a glass of wine in his hand, he was about to take a long, hot shower. There was just one part of the plan missing.

He reached over his shoulder and grabbed Claire’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“There’s jes’ one more thing I need fer the shower…”

“What’s that?”

“A naked lady in there with me… ye ken anyone who can oblige?”

“You go upstairs. I’m sure I know someone who’s willing to help out.”

Jamie turned and kissed Claire’s mouth. A kiss, tender at first but building in passion and intensity. She pulled away.

“Go on, get the shower running. I’ll be up to join you.”

At the doorway, Jamie hesitated.

“Dinna be too long, Sassenach. Ye dinna want me tae start without ye.”

#outlander fan fiction #outlander fanfic #Road To The Aisles #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #chapter 15

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johnsbleu · 5 years

Text

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 60

warnings: moments of nsfw-ness here and there. Hold My Hand Masterlist

Anytime you and John are in a book shop, you always end up separated. Part of you knows that you do it on purpose because John always gets so excited to see you again. He’ll toss aside whatever book he’s looking at and wrap his arms around your waist, kissing you repeatedly like you haven’t seen each other in days.

More than once the two of you have snuck into the corner of a book shop for a make out session. Yeah, it’s probably immature, but sometimes it’s fun to act like high school kids. One time you were almost caught with John’s hand up your shirt, but thankfully no one saw you.

Since the two of you are new to this shop, you’re hoping John will pull you aside at some point and kiss you with no end in sight. Surprisingly, you’ve never been to this shop before. It’s a lot like your shop, but it doesn’t feel as cozy. Probably from the cars honking on the street outside, and the fact that it’s about as big as your living room and kitchen combined. It’s tiny.

You know John is somewhere in the shop, even though his voice is quiet, it’s still deep and it carries throughout the shop. You peek around a shelf to see John talking to a woman who is helping him look for a certain book, and he’s listening to every word she’s saying as he looks over the book in his hands.

He’s been asked to look for a few books for a client, some old children’s books that they’ve had a hard time finding, and of course, John always knows the best places to find them.

It’s only been about a week since you made a website for John’s bookbinding business, but he’s gotten a few people asking for books. He checks it every morning and tries his best to play it cool when someone emails him. It’s so nice to see him genuinely excited about something he loves, and you couldn’t be more proud of him.

You lean against the shelf, watching John closely as he talks quietly with the woman. He nods several times, and the woman excuses herself for a moment and heads for the backroom to grab something.

John looks at you and smiles wide, “I’m almost done. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Take your time, babe.” you wave your hand and smile sincerely, “Come find me when you’re done.”

You hold John’s gaze for a moment, then he nods and gives you a wink. You head for the back of the shop and look through the books on the shelf. Since you found out that John binds books, you look through all of the old classics in hopes that you’ll find one with his stamp on the inside.

Of Mice and Men, The Great Gatsby, To Kill a Mockingbird. You set them on the table and carefully open them to see the inside cover is empty.

“Damn it.” you sigh and put them back on the shelf.

“Try A Tale of Two Cities.” John says quietly as he stands behind you.

You run your finger along the books as you look up and down the shelves, then you gasp a little when you find it and pull it out. Looking at John as you open it, you smile at him, then look down to see his stamp on the inside cover, “Oh, my god.”

“Just brought that one in the other day.”

You look up at you John, smiling wide, “I’m buying it.”

John’s cheeks turn pink as he smiles proudly, and he lets out a small laugh when you turn around and look for more. You look over your shoulder to see John has several things in his hands, and you spot Jane Eyre. The binding is all torn up, so you know whoever owned it must have loved it.

“Jane Eyre?”

John nods slowly and smiles, “Yeah, I’ve been looking for this one for a few months. It’s a first edition, and the binding isn’t too bad, but I want to fix it. Melanie had called me a few weeks back to let me know that it was in, but with everything that’s going on with our shop, I hadn’t had time to come pick it up.”

You squint your eyes at John, “That’s my mom’s favorite book.”

“I know.” he looks up at you and smiles, “It’s her birthday soon. I know you’re going to tell me not to do this, but I really want to.”

You put your hands up in defense and smile, “Hey, I think it’s super sweet.”

You watch John as he struggles to hold everything in his hands, despite the fact that his hands are huge. He has way too much he’s trying to carry, and he’d never ask for help.

You laugh as you reach out to help carry a few things, “Baby, just ask for some help.”

“Can you help me?” he asks quietly. He’s bought more supplies to bind books, and you hold them up as he explains each thing. “Thread. For the binding.”

You hold up a weird tool that almost looks like an ice pick and you widen your eyes, “You could kill someone with this.”

“That is a piercing awl.” he laughs as he puts every into a shopping basket. “And yes, I could kill someone with it.”

You hold up a ruler and laugh, “And this?”

“Well, for obvious reasons.” he takes it from you and looks around the shop, then he bends you over the table. You look over your shoulder as John lifts up your dress, then he slaps the ruler against your ass as the two of you laugh.

John has stopped at a gas station to fill up the gas tank, and he’s grabbed you a few snacks for the road. The drive back to Mill Neck will be a little longer since it’s rush hour and everyone is on their way home from work. Sure, John could weave in and out of traffic, but he’d never do it with you in the car.

Aurelio has recently updated the stereo in John’s car -- by John’s request, of course. You wanted to show John a new song that reminded you of him, but because his car is older, it didn’t have the proper stereo for you to be able to plug your phone into. John was more than happy to update it as long as you promised to let him pick some music to add to a playlist; mostly Michael Bublé, some Johnny Cash, and a song or two by Peter Frampton.

You kick off your shoes and sit cross legged in your seat, shifting around a few times until you’re comfortable as you swipe through the songs on your phone.

“Okay, now this song…it’s like, me about you. It’s how I feel about you.” you say, turning it up a little, “I’m sure you feel this way about me too though. At least I’d hope."

“Well,” John clears his throat and puts on his seat belt, “If it’s how you feel about me, then I’m positive I feel the same way. You ready?”

You grab your bottle of lemonade from the bag and crack it open to take a sip. You twist the cap back on and clap your hands together.

“Ready!” you smile at John, then start to laugh when you realize he’s been watching you, “What?”

He reaches out and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, then he sucks on thumb to get a taste of your lemonade, “You know how much I love you?”

“Um, a lot?” you say, smiling sweetly.

“A lot, a lot, a lot.” he leans his head against his seat and smiles as he brushes the back of his hand against your cheek, “You’re my girl.”

“Ooh,” you laugh, pressing your hand to your stomach, “That gave me butterflies.”

John leans over to kiss you and he reaches for your hand, then presses a kiss to it, “You look really good sitting in the passenger seat of my car. I’ve always wanted to tell you that. The first time you were ever in my car…” he puts his hand over his heart and smiles, “Best day ever. You looked so tiny, and you were so nervous. I just wanted to hold you in my arms.”

“Very sweet, Jonathan.” you lean over to kiss him again and start to crawl into his lap, “But I think I’d look even better in the driver’s seat.”

John wraps his arms around you and laughs, “Wanna just drive like this the whole way home?”

“Hmm…” you tilt your head and tap your finger to your chin.

“Do you want to drive home?” he asks, already opening his door.

“Yes!” you trade spots with John and get the seat adjusted as he gets out and walks to the passenger’s side. “I know you just got it back today, but I want to drive.”

John quickly pulls on his seat belt and smiles, “Okay, so just…gently push the gas when you’re driving. This car can go pretty fast.”

“Jonathan, I’ve driven your car before. Many times.”

He nods and exhales, “Yeah, you’re right.”

John watches you as you put your hand on the gear stick and put the car in reverse. He holds his breath for a moment as you back out of the parking spot, and he exhales loudly when you put the car in drive. From the corner of your eye, you can see John hold onto the door handle as you pull onto the street, and you start to laugh.

“Seriously?” you ask, looking back and forth between him and the road, “You’ve been in the car with me before when I’ve driven. I’m a good driver, John.”

“I’m still better.”

You laugh, “I won’t argue with that, but I’m much more patient in traffic.”

“Okay, yeah, well, I won’t argue with that.”

The drive back to Mill Neck went by faster than you’d hoped. You showed John several songs that reminded you of him, and he even played a certain one three times in a row. He hummed along to it and kept his hand on your thigh the entire drive.

You pull into the driveway and sigh, “Wish it would have taken longer to get home.”

“Why?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. Kinda liked just driving and listening to music. I miss being with you.”

John gets out of the car and grabs his bags from the backseat, then he walks to the driver’s side and opens the door, reaching out for your hand.

“Oh…” you laugh and look at his hand, “I wasn’t waiting for you to…open my door, or anything like that.”

“I know, peach.” he shakes his hand and you finally reach out for it. “How about tomorrow we take a drive through the city? You can show me all the other songs, and we can listen to that one song again. And again.”

“You really liked that one, huh?” you laugh as you walk into the house, “I heard it the other day, and I just instantly thought of you. It’d be a good song for our first dance, or at least one of our dances on our wedding night.”

“Our first dance.” John repeats, still holding your hand as he walks into the kitchen.

Your cheeks are aflame from embarrassment, but you know John thinks about your wedding just as much as you. If only he’d fucking propose already.

“Yeah, I was just listening to it and thought about marrying you. Us dancing to it.” you look up at John and smile, “I mean, I think about it a lot. Like…quite a bit, almost like, ya know, constantly.”

“Getting tired of waiting?”

You let out a loud laugh and nod, “Yeah, to be honest, I kind of am. I like to think of myself as a pretty patient person, but…hurry up, already!”

“Soon, I promise.”

The smile on John’s face is making you melt and he sits down at the kitchen table, then pulls you into his lap. John has been eyeing you all day, and it’s honestly giving you butterflies. His hands slides in between your legs and he leans into kiss you. You’re wearing a dress that buttons up the front and it comes to your mid thigh, and you know you wore it on purpose. You always love the way John looks at you.

“I love this dress.” he whispers against your lips.

“Thanks.” you cup John’s face in your hands and stand up. He keeps his lips connected to yours as you back out of the kitchen and head for your bedroom. Once at the stairs, he lifts you up and you wrap you legs around his waist as he climbs the stairs, still kissing each other passionately.

John lays you down on the bed and starts to unbutton your dress, “You look beautiful today. You look so happy.”

“I am.”

“Not wearing a bra, I see.” he says, opening the front of your dress, then leaning down to kiss over your breasts.

“Thought you’d enjoy that.” you watch John as he kisses down your chest, past your bellybutton and to the waistband of your underwear, and you whimper a little when he nips at your sensitive skin. He lightly trails his fingers down your inner thighs, then starts to pull your underwear to the side. You tilt your head back and smile, “That feels good, Jonathan.”

“Does it?” he whispers, and you hum when you feel his tongue; wet and warm against your clit.

Licking your lips, you tilt your head back more and let out a soft moan as John slowly rubs his thumb over your clit. Your body jolts from the pleasure, and you open your eyes to watch John in between your legs.

“Fuck, you taste delicious.” he whispers against your thighs, and he smiles when he looks up at you. His phone rings in his pocket and he stands up straight to answer it, “Hey…yeah, no problem. I can be right over.”

You flop on the bed and laugh, “You’re kidding?”

John lays down on top of you and smiles, “Sorry, Jimmy needs my help. Tess isn’t home so you’d just be bored over there.”

You cup his face and kiss his cheek, “Just guys being dudes.”

“I don’t get that reference, and I’m sure you’re referencing something. You and Tess do that a lot, but yeah, just guys being dudes.” he smiles, then kisses your nose. “Come over in a little bit, okay, beautiful?”

You frown playfully as John smiles, and you sit up to kiss him, “I’ll meet you over there in a little bit. Grab some gum or brush your teeth before you leave.”

John licks his lips and smiles, “Maybe I like the taste of you on my lips all day.”

“And while that is one of the hottest things you’ve ever said to me, please eat a mint.”

John nods as he leans down to suck on your nipple one last time, “Okay. I love you.”

“Love you.” you pout as John leans back down to kiss you, then you watch him leave the room, “Just leave me here naked…and very turned on!”

“We have tonight!” he yells, and moments later, you hear the front door close.

As you walk across the street, you can already hear Jimmy’s playlist playing loudly in the backyard, and you know John is probably kicking himself for heading over early. You walk into the backyard, but seeing no one back there, you walk to the backdoor and see Jimmy, Tess, and John standing around the kitchen island looking at something.

Tess is pointing at the paper and as she talks, John is quickly writing everything down. It all looks very…secretive for some reason. You press your ear to the door, but with the music playing, it’s impossible to hear what they’re saying. You see Tess nod her head as John talks and she puts hand over her heart, then she smiles and covers her face with her hands.

“What is going on?” you whisper to yourself and turn the handle to the backdoor, but it’s locked.

You knock on the door, and John looks up at you as Tess leaves the room with the papers in her hand. Jimmy unlocks the door and lets you in, immediately hugging you.

“You look nice.” he says, smiling. “Sorry the door was locked, habit already.”

“Oh,” you wave him off, “No biggie, I just heard the music and figured everyone was in the backyard.”

John leans back in his chair a little to look at you and he smiles, “I love that dress on you.”

“Thank you, Jonathan.” you say as you walk over to John, and he wraps his arm around your waist, “So, what were you three doing? Don’t think I didn’t notice you all standing around and looking at some papers.”

John laughs and shakes his head, “It was nothing, they just want to build something in the basement and wanted my input.”

“Hmm,” you squint your eyes at him as Tess walks into the room, “What were you three doing? What were those papers?”

“We want to build something in the basement and we asked John for help.” she says without looking at you, “We want to make a movie room so when we have our shows, we can all sit down there and watch. Oh yeah, and for Jimmy’s buddies, they can watch games down there.”

You look back and forth between the three of them and sit down next to John, “Okay, some secret society that I’m not allowed to be a part of, I got it.”

“Oh, shut up.” Tess laughs and leans against the counter, “So, what did you two get up to today?”

“Went into the city to get some supplies.” John says and takes a drink of his beer, then offers you a sip, which you take. “Gonna bind a book for mom’s birthday.”

Tess rolls her eyes, “Don’t brag.”

“I know. What’s even worse is that it’s a first edition of Jane Eyre, so now she’s gonna give us shit about how we don’t get her anything nice.” you laugh and shove John’s shoulder, “Damn you for being so…talented.”

John shakes his head and looks at Jimmy, “How is work?”

“It’s been pretty good.” he says and moves to the fridge to grab a beer, “You know the cliche story of a cop saving a cat from a tree? That was me the other day.”

Tess laughs, “So it’s been boring for him, like always.”

“I’d rather have boring days though. I couldn’t handle being a big city cop. I used to get calls to John’s house all the time,” Jimmy says, popping the cap on his beer, “That was hard enough.”

John starts to laugh and nods his head, “That’s probably true.”

“Noise complaints.” Jimmy chuckles, then takes a sip of his beer.

“What happened the first time you went over there?” Tess asks and sits down on the stool next to John.

“Well, it had been my first week at the station, so this was quite a few years ago. I had a pretty good week, but I was waiting for a really interesting call. You know how you watch Cops on TV and you see the most ridiculous things? A cow stuck in someone’s house, a man running around town naked. That’s what I was hoping for.”

“And boy, were you wrong.” you laugh.

“My shift was almost over and someone asked me to take their call for them. Some people were complaining about the noise, I guess.” he says and shakes his head, “I got in my car, drove to John’s house and knocked on the door.”

Tess props her head on her hand and laughs, “Were you scared?”

“At first, no, I’m trained in this kind of thing. But when I got to his house, I was terrified.” Jimmy laughs, “There were dead bodies just in his house, and I didn’t know what to do. I just saw this man…standing there, and behind him were about four guys, just…dead on the floor.”

John reaches for your hand and you scoot closer to him to let him know you’re not uncomfortable. He looks over at you, then leans down to kiss you quickly. He’s always so scared that you’re going to think he’s a monster, but you could never. John is…incredible. He’s the best man you know.

“I’m okay.” you whisper and nod, “It’s interesting actually.”

“I had to handcuff John, of course. He had dead people in his house. I called for backup, and then about 30 seconds later, the police chief called. He asked for his name and when I told him it was John Wick, he just told me to leave. I went back to talk to John, who was just sitting there waiting for me, and I was so scared of him. He could have killed me within five seconds, but he didn’t.” Jimmy laughs, “He was actually really cool.”

“That is so hot.” you laugh, and Tess looks over at you as she starts to laugh. “I’m sorry, that’s so fucking hot, John.”

“You are a legend.” Tess says, grabbing his arm as his cheeks turn red.

“He is.” Jimmy nods, “When I got back to the station, all the other guys were surprised that John didn’t kick my ass.”

“He would never.” you look at John and squeeze his hand, “You’re his best friend.”

“Well, I wasn’t then.” Jimmy laughs, “Once I got back to the station, they told me that John Wick was the John Wick. Baba Yaga.”

“Ooh, yeah. I forget he’s scary or something.” Tess teases, nudging John’s shoulder.

“Well, to be fair, you two have never seen him working.” Jimmy lets out a big breath then laughs, “Anyway, they decided anytime there were calls concerning John that I would be the one to handle them. I went over so much that all I had to do was ask John if he was working. A simple yes or no was all I needed. It was usually a yes.”

“Hey, John,” Tess cocks up an eyebrow, “You workin’?”

A smile spreads across John’s face and he lets out the cutest laugh. Pressing kisses to John’s cheek, you move to sit in his lap and he wraps his arms around you.

“You workin’, John?” you ask, and he shakes his head as he leans forward to kiss you. You look back at Jimmy and furrow your brow, “So, wait…you’re not from Mill Neck?”

“Nope.” Jimmy shakes his head, “Well, you know I work for the Oyster Bay Police Department, and so when I got out of the academy, I moved there. I ended up coming here so much, I just fell in love with it.”

“Yeah, you just kind of fall in love with Mill Neck, it’s weird.” Tess says, shaking her head.

Jimmy leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, “I just got an apartment here since I couldn’t afford a house.”

“Neither could I.” you laugh, trying to make Jimmy feel better. “I remember researching so much about Mill Neck before we moved here and I almost fainted when I saw the prices for things, but April wanted us to move here so bad, there was no way I could just say no. And mom and Dan pitched in quite a bit of money for us to move.”

“Plus April offered for us to live here rent free -- which we turned down, of course.” Tess smiles, and you roll your eyes, “Okay, so maybe paying rent was your idea.”

John wraps his arms around you tighter and kisses your cheek, “You’re so cute.”

“Do you try to pay John rent?” Tess laughs.

John laughs and nods his head, “She did try to pay me rent once, back when she first moved in. She came into the office when I was on a call with someone, and she just sat there and stared at me until I hung up. Then she just put about 700 dollars in front of me and said it was her share of the rent.”

Tess looks at you as she shakes her head, “You are so dumb.”

“Well, we hadn’t talked much about money and all of that stuff, so I figured since I didn’t really pay for things around the house, I’d give him money to pay for something.” you laugh and look at John, “But now I’m getting…a little bit better. I just don’t want anyone to think I’m just dating him for his money.”

“Whoever thinks that can get fucked.” Tess says, and John nods his head in agreement. “You’re clearly in love with him, and anyone who can’t see that is…”

“Stupid as fuck.” Jimmy chimes in, and you all start to laugh.

“I just remembered mom was so happy to see that the crime rate was so low here.” Tess chuckles, and you all look at John as he takes a sip of his beer.

He smiles smugly and shrugs, “What can I say?”

You let out a small laugh, then look up at Jimmy, “So, how did you two meet? Did you just go over for a noise complaint and then ask John out for a drink?”

“Yeah, we met that first night, but we didn’t really talk obviously. I would talk to John a little when I’d go over, just a casual conversation since I would be pretty nervous, and when I get nervous, I tend to just talk a lot. But I’d see him around town sometimes.”

John laughs and clears his throat, “We ran into each other at the grocery store, it was weird.”

“It was weird to not see John covered in blood or without cuts on all his face.” Jimmy adds.

Tess laughs, “God, now I’m just imagining you two just standing there in the bread aisle.”

“Anyway, we said hi, then we bumped into each other again at the check out.” Jimmy leans against the counter and laughs, “We hung out a time or two, then I didn’t go over to his house for awhile.”

Tess looks at John and smiles, “You retired?”

“Yeah.” John nods and shifts under you a little.

“But after all of that stuff, we bumped into each other again at the gas station, and I asked him about his car.” Jimmy clears his throat and smiles, “Man, I thought John was so cool.”

“Oh, whatever, you still do.” Tess laughs and shoves Jimmy’s shoulder as his cheek turn pink.

“I had just recently gotten out of a relationship -- a pretty serious relationship actually, and I wanted to start dating.”

“That’s so weird. To think that you were ever dating someone other than Tess.” you smile, looking at the two of them, “It’s just…weird. It feels like you two were always supposed to be together.”

“Aw!” Tess teases and moves to stand next to Jimmy, “He had some pretty tragic relationships before me.”

“I did.” Jimmy wraps his arms around Tess and kisses her cheek, “I was in a serious relationship for about two years, I tried to propose to her and she shut me down before I could even get down on one knee. I figured she was just...not ready, so I waited a little while longer, proposed again and she still said no.”

“Oh, no.” you frown. “Did she maybe just…not want to get married?”

“No, she did. We had talked about it several times.” he says, and Tess leans back to look at him. “She said she wanted to get married, but she never said that it was me that she wanted to marry.”

“Oh,” you frown again, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I think she just kept me around to…have someone. I don’t think she was ever really in love with me. I knew I wanted to get married and have kids, so I decided I wasn’t going to waste my time being with her since it wasn’t what she wanted. Not with me anyway.” he squeezes Tess in his arms and she smiles. “Then I bumped into John again, and I just asked if he wanted to grab a drink sometime. We went to a bar and watched a game. I didn’t pester him about what I would see every time I went over to his house.”

“Which I appreciated.” John says.

“I tried to act cool, but I was curious. I wanted to know everything.” he says and watches John as he leans up to kiss your cheek, “But after hanging out with him for awhile, I finally got him to open up a little more. He seemed like a lonely guy, and there was no reason for him to be sitting at home alone all the time. So I told him that I was dating, and that if he was interested, I would set him up on some dates.”

“Yeah, you set him up on several bad dates, or so I’ve heard.” you say, cocking up an eyebrow.

“To be fair, I didn’t know about you yet. If I had, I would have set you two up right away.” Jimmy says and wraps his arms around Tess tighter, “I remember when he told me about you.”

You look at John as his cheeks turn red, and he looks down at his hand on your thigh. John has told you all about the first time he ever saw, he remembers everything. But now you’re interested in hearing what Jimmy has to say.

“He had just gotten back from a date with Rachel, and he was pissed.” Jimmy laughs, “He called me and I could just hear it in his voice. I came over and he told me that he was done going dates that I set him up on.”

“What was so bad about it?” you ask, looking at John.

“She was…not my type. She complained about everything. Now that I think about it, she reminds me a lot of Leah.”

Tess laughs loudly, “Which means she was fucking horrible!”

John looks up at you and smiles, “My date with you was so different from my date with her. It was a complete 180. It was perfect.”

“Yeah…” you nod, then lean your forehead against John’s.

“Did you kiss her?” Tess asks, a smile growing on her face.

“Rachel?” John asks, then shakes his head, “No.”

“Did you at least--” Tess stops herself, “You know what? I won’t even go there. It’s not my business.”

“I’m proud of you, babe.” Jimmy teases.

“No,” John shakes his head, “Nothing happened.”

“Wait…” you lean closer to John, “You hadn’t been…intimate with anyone since Helen? Like, not even a kiss?”

John looks at you and smiles, “Not until you.”

You look away from John as a smile spreads across your face, and you feel a surge run through your body and you’re not sure what it is. Satisfaction, maybe? Satisfaction that John hasn’t been with anyone in years except you. Satisfaction that he wasn’t even interested in anyone like that until he met you.

“Didn’t you go out with her again?” Jimmy asks, and Tess slaps his arm. “What? I’m pretty sure he did. Like two more times.”

“One more time. She kept bothering me to ask her out again, and I thought maybe she was just having an off day.” John says, then reaches for your hand, “She was not just having an off day, she was just…”

“A bitch. It’s okay, John. You can say it.” Tess laughs.

“That’s the night he called me pissed as hell. He was like ‘I’m done doing this, Jimmy. I can’t keep going out with these girls’.” he says, trying his best to impersonate John, and you all laugh. “I knew something was going on because he kept looking out the window, like he was looking for someone. And he was.”

You feel yourself blushing, and John leans up to press another kiss to your cheek. Tess is watching the two of you as she leans her head back against Jimmy’s shoulder, and she smiles wide when you look at her.

“He told me he wasn’t interested in me setting him up on dates anymore, because he had seen someone that he wanted to talk to and maybe ask out.” Jimmy chuckles, “We went outside to ‘look’ at my car, then I saw you and realized why he was so nervous to talk to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you laugh, feeling your cheeks burning again.

“This is weird because you’re like my little sister, but you’re very….”

“Beautiful.” Tess says, finishing his sentence for him.

“You were outside with Tess actually.” he says and smiles at Tess. “John didn’t even have to point you out, I just knew he meant you. The two of you were sitting on the little bench that’s out front, and Tess must have said something funny -- like she always does -- because the two of you started laughing loudly. Absolute angels, you two.”

John bounces on his knee a few times, and you look down to find him smiling at you. You rub your finger against his beard and lean forward to kiss him a few times. Jimmy clears his throat to turn the attention back to him, and you smile as you look over at him again.

“So, anyway, I asked him why he hadn’t talked to you yet, and he just…completely shut down.”

“He was scared. Oh, my god. You were scared of her?” Tess asks, moving to sit down next to John again.

“I wasn’t scared of her.” John shakes his head and smiles, “Actually, yeah, I was pretty scared of her.”

Jimmy leans against the counter and laughs, “I remember he called me right after he talked to you, and I went over to his house. I walked in the front door and his face was as white as a ghost. He just sat on the couch and stared at the floor.”

“Jesus.” Tess laughs.

“He told me that he finally talked to you, said he thought he was already in love.”

You laugh loudly, “He did not.”

“I did.” John nods, pulling you closer. “I told you that I knew right away.”

You and John hold each others gazes for a few moments as a smile spreads across your face and tears fill your eyes. You lean your forehead against John’s and sniffle quietly.

“I love you.” he whispers, and you nod your head as he cups your face. “My girl.”

Tess is staring at the two of you, watching in awe. She puts her hand over her heart and smiles, “I love you two.” she looks over at Jimmy and points at him, “Why don’t you say sweet stuff like that to me? I’m your wife, you ass.”

“I do too!” Jimmy laughs, “We have reservations for that nice restaurant tonight, I made you a nice bath this morning, I gave you a foot massage yesterday. I made you breakfast in bed the other morning, and I took you to your favorite cafe today for lunch.”

“See how most of those things had to do with food?” Tess looks down at her belly and sighs, “This kid is gonna be a chunk.”

Jimmy laughs and pats Tess’ hand, “I love you, babe.”

Tess squints her eyes at Jimmy, then slowly starts to smile as she looks over at you, “He really is very sweet to me.”

“Oh, I know he is.” you laugh, then gasp, “Oh, my gosh, I forgot to tell you. John tried to get me to do self defense yesterday. Threw me on a mat, pinning me to the floor and everything.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It was so fun.” you laugh and look at John, then you jut out your bottom lip dramatically as he laughs. “He was actually getting mad at me though.”

“I wasn’t.” he shakes his head, then looks at Tess, “I wasn’t. I was just trying to teach her some self defense and she would not be serious.”

“We should all do that sometime.” Tess says and looks back and forth between John and Jimmy, “You two could teach us some self defense.”

John points at you and laughs, “She can’t be serious for two minutes, and I can’t imagine trying to teach you and her.”

“Oh, please. I can totally be serious.” you say and look over at Jimmy and Tess as she moves closer to kiss him.

The two of them start making out, and you and John look at each other in shock. Tess wipes off her mouth and reaches out for Jimmy’s hand, “I’m sorry. Pregnancy hormones.”

“Oh, I…” you watch as they walk past, and you hear them heading up the stairs to their bedroom, “Okay, goodbye?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna want to leave. Call you tomorrow.” Tess says, and a few seconds later you hear their bedroom door close.

“We should definitely head home.” John says and quickly gets up from his chair.

“That was so…” you snap your fingers and laugh, “It was like lightning quick.”

As soon as you get outside, John finally slows down and reaches out to hold your hand, “I had a good day.”

“You did?” you wrap your arms around John’s bicep and lean up to kiss him.

“I got to spend time with you. Of course I had a good day.” he says, stopping at the mailbox to check the mail.

“I’m glad we went out there today. It was nice to spend some time with you since I’ve barely seen you since you’ve been home from work.” you lean against the mailbox and sigh, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, peach.” John smiles and leans down to kiss you, “I know I’ve been a little busy lately, I’m sorry. I just have some stuff I need to get done by tomorrow.”

“It’s okay. I just miss you.” you frown, pouting a little more than intended. John bends down a little in front of you, waiting for you to hop on his back, and you laugh loudly and shake your head, “I’m wearing a dress.”

“It’s just our driveway, no one will see anything.” he stands up straight and looks at you, “Aren’t you wearing underwear?”

“Well, yeah.” you shove John jokingly and laugh, “Of course I am. You know that, you saw that earlier.”

John shrugs, “I don’t believe you.”

“What? You think I took them off before I left the house?” you walk in front of John, heading up the driveway as you laugh, “You amaze me, Jonathan.”

You hear the gravel under John’s feet as he chases after you, and you start to run across the driveway to the grass as you both laugh. He wraps his arms around you from behind and pulls you tight against his chest to keep you from escaping. He lifts you off the ground, and you laugh loudly as he rubs his beard against your neck, tickling you.

“I’m wearing underwear, Jonathan.” you tilt your head back and smile, “You can even check if you want.”

John smiles as he slides his hand between your legs and onto your underwear. He watches you closely as he pulls them to the side, rubbing his fingers against you teasingly and you struggle to keep your eyes open. You hang your head as you moan, and you dig your nails into John’s arm when he slides one finger in deep. You feel John’s lips on your neck and tilt your head back, giving him more access.

“Fuck, let’s go inside. Please.” you whisper and open your eyes to John still smiling.

John lets go of you and sucks on his fingers as he walks away from you, “If you can catch me…”

“Your legs are longer, so you’re faster than me. Clearly that is so not fair.” you say as you slowly walk closer to John.

He stops walking and you run up to him, wrapping your arms around him, and he holds tight to you as he walks to the house. John lets go of you when you get in the house, and you smile when see the bulge growing in his pants already.

You kick off your shoes and look at John, “So, since you know, we were so rudely interrupted earlier, do you wanna…?”

John nods his head and begins to unbuckle his pants, “Yes!”

“Okay…” you slide your underwear off and toss them to John, then you slowly unbutton the front of your dress and slide it open to show you’re still not wearing a bra. You toss it to him and slowly turn around, “You like what you see?”

“Wow.” he whispers breathlessly, and he reaches out for you as he walks closer.

You giggle loudly as you run up the stairs, “If you can catch me…”

taglist: @girl-at-the-verge @ladyren33 @avxgers @thelovedpessimist @ficsnroses @thepastrecedes01 @chickyan @weird-civilian @dangerouslystrangecrown @meetmeinthematinee @starsstripesandthesouth @cheekybluefox @beyond-antares @tnu-ree @sanctuarygirl @jessicajones616 @ou8i8 @sterekislyf @celestiaelisia @ladiesofamidala @sgt-morgan @shominoods @sweetgoodangel @lainalainalain @raveviolet @deviljoonie @ibelielveinmusic @hhighkey @lokismortallove @vladtoly @daily-evanstan @ehggowo @chicksamwitch @star017 @wild-andfluorescent @whatcolourisanorange @requested-memory @cutelittlemagicalsouls @xoxokeanuxoxo @a--1--1--3

#john wick imagine #john wick x you #john wick x reader #fic: hold my hand #:)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) AHHHHHHH #that's my excitement #i love yall #be kind

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lovebitesimagines · 5 years

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You- Gift.

Hello my loves! Here is the first chapter of my new imagine series. Please let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist.

[1] [2]

Message me to be on the tagged list for this series!

Warnings: Swearing, violence.

You had secretly loved Tommy Shelby, since you where both teenagers. Does he feel the same way about you?

YOUR POV

You sat alone in a train carriage, the fabric of the hard-backed seat irritating every inch of skin that wasn’t protected by your sundress. Your forehead was leaning against the slightly damp window, the condensation leaving small droplets of water form upon your face. The landscape was twisted and obscured, smudges of green, blue and orange fused together as the train continued to rapidly move through the countryside. The opportunity to immerse yourself in nature rarely presented itself, the majority of your time spent within the familiar town of Small Heath. Your day had been spent running errands, which required you to travel to the centre of Birmingham, a journey you despised taking. It had resulted you in feeling fatigued, an unusual grouchiness settling restlessly within your body. This was why you had chosen to situate yourself in a carriage towards the back of the train, quietly enjoying the solitude that it brought.

Your heart sunk as the doors to the carriage slid open, allowing the noise from outside to creep into your little area of solitude, shattering your peace. You scowled softly, digging into your black, leather handbag in search for the book that you had brought with you. You where intending on making it clear to whoever had rudely interrupted your tranquillity, that you were not prepared to partake in pointless conversation. Pulling out your battered copy of ‘Jane Eyre’ by Charlotte Bronte, your fingers filed through the pages, finding where you had last read. You shuffled down into the seat, deliberately focusing your eyes upon the page in front of you. You heard the strangers footsteps move across the carriage floor, stopping as they sat in the seat opposite you, the springs creaking in protest. Your eyes flickered up from the page, curiosity getting the better of you. You took a sharp intake of breath, as you noticed who had joined you in the carriage.

Tommy fucking Shelby.

You had known Tommy all your life, constantly living in frightened awe of him and his family. You had gone to school with his younger brother John, who was one of your good friends. He had always been incredibly protective of you, forever keeping a watchful eye upon you. No one had dared to cross you, not with you being a friend of one of the Shelbys’. His Aunt Pol had taken you under her wing, when your mother had passed. Both her and John had helped you settle into your first flat, a minute walk from The Garrison. Tommy, on the other hand, was different to you altogether. You would give each other a passing nod, if you crossed paths, but you had barely said a word to him in all the time you had known each other. Despite the silence you had both insisted on maintaining, Tommy had secretly defended you on numerous occasions. He had broken your ex-boyfriends nose when you found out about his infidelity and had scared away countless unwanted suitors.

You had harboured a secret crush on Tommy, since the day you had first met him. He was much older than you at the time, but you couldn’t help but daydream about your future together. It could only ever be a figment of your imagination, of course. Tommy could never feel the same about you. You suppressed the adoration you felt for him, glad that he never spoke to you.

Your eyes met his from across the pages of your book, his glacier blue eyes meeting your own (Y/C/E) ones, lighting up in recognition. His eyes had always sent unseen shivers down your spine, and today was no different. They shone of an intelligence and wisdom so rare in this world. His eyes flickered down to the book you were reading, an impish smirk slowly spreading across his lips.

“Jane Eyre?” he questioned, his voice destroying the silence that had settled between the both of you. He cocked his head slightly to the side, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s one of my favourites” you replied, slightly lowering the book onto your lap. You watched his eyes move down to where the book had settled, the smirk on his lips growing.

“I can tell” he noted, nodding down towards the book. Sure, you knew some people would call your copy battered. The paper cover was torn in places, pages yellow stained and folded down at the edges. You preferred to use the term ‘well-loved’. You raised an eyebrow at his response, folding down the page you were on before placing it to the side.

“Maybe you should try reading it sometime” you suggested, folding your arms. Tommy let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“I have better things to do, than read a stupid book” he asserted, reaching in his jacket pocket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He held out the packet towards you. “Smoke?”. You sighed softly, accepting his offer and pulling one from the packet, placing it between your lips. He rummaged for a match, running it along the boxes rough surface, creating a small flame. You leaned forward, lighting the cigarette, taking a slow drag. Tommys’ eyes flickered down quickly to your chest, before moving back up to meet yours.

“Books aren’t stupid Tommy” you stated, blowing the smoke out slowly. You watched as he lit his own, taking a drag before he replied.

“I’ll take your word for it (Y/N)” he smirked again, leaning back again in his seat, turning his head to face the window, seeming to signal the end of your conversation. You leaned your head back against the carriage wall, your eyes closing shut with a soft sigh, bringing the cigarette back up to your lips. “Far away from home though, aren’t you?” your eyes opened up again at the sound of Tommys’ voice.

“I could say the same for you” you commented, your eyes again meeting his.

“I am a business man (Y/N). I had business to do” Tommy leant forward, his eyes staring deep into your own. “I’m asking what business you have, being so far away from home?”.

“You have barely said two words to me since you’ve met me, and you expect me to divulge in my business?” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s a lie. I said Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you a couple of months ago” Tommy retorted with a pout, stubbing out the remains of his cigarette against the window.

The train came to a halt, the breaks screeching as you entered Small Heath. You sighed quietly in relief that the journey had come to an end. You stood up with a stretch, reaching down to grab your bags, blinking in surprise as Tommy had grabbed them before you could.

“Let me help” he stated, the tone of his voice making it clear arguing would be pointless. You both made your way onto the busy platform, the noise and smoke signalling that you where home. The familiar silence returned between you both, as you led the way to your flat, ignoring the inquisitive glances people where throwing in your direction.

“I can take them from here” you announced as you reached your front door, taking the bags from Tommys hands. “Thank you”. He nodded in response, his gaze faltering on you for a couple of seconds, before he walked off. You pushed your front door open, thankful when you heard it close behind you. Your mind spun as you made your way to your room, dropping your bags with a thud upon the floor.

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The door to The Garrison swung open in front of you, the few locals sat at the bar welcoming you as you strutted inside. It was quieter than normal, for this time of night. Your eyes scanned the room, as you made your way to the bar. You were slightly surprised to see a few strangers sat at a table in the corner, their faces new around Small Heath. Your light blue dress embraced your curvy frame, the hem resting just above your knees. The fabric swayed as you walked. Your (Y/C/H) fell just above your shoulders, a few strands framing your face.

You were quite fond of your local haunt, the way it gave you a sense of familiarity. You knew every local by name, and they knew you, with many providing you with comfort and support after your mums passing. You had celebrated each birthday here since you where sixteen and had nursed each heart break over a bottle of your favourite whiskey.

“The usual (Y/N)?” Harry asked you, greeting you with a welcoming smile. Harry had been a close friend of your mums, and you had called him ‘Uncle’ since before you could walk.

“You know me too well Uncle” you chuckled softly, perching upon your favourite bar stool. Harry slid the bottle of whiskey and a glass in your direction. You unscrewed the lid, pouring the golden-brown liquid into the glass, before bringing it up to your lips. You shivered in delight, as the sweet liquid slid down your throat.

“You’re far too beautiful, to be left alone in a place like this” a deep voice sneered. You turned to face the direction where it had come from and was met by one of the strangers who had been sat in the corner. His hair was limp and greasy, flakes of his previous meals clinging onto the stubble on his chin. You grimaced softly as he leant in towards, his breath warm and stagnant against your face.

“I’m not alone. My boyfriend will be here shortly” you lied, taking a sip of your whiskey, desperate for this man to leave. Your eyes flickered towards the bar, your heart sinking when you saw Harry was nowhere to be seen, probably sorting something out the back. You yelped in shock as the man lashed out at your glass, knocking it from your hand. It shattered against the bar, the shards spilling out on the surface.

“You’re lying to me. You’re waiting for no man” he snarled, his hand snaking around your waist.

“I suggest, you get your fucking hands off her. Now” Tommy Shelby growled, a gun pressed to the back of the mans head. Your eyes looked up to him, a panicked expression playing upon your face. Your heart was thumping against your chest, as the man slowly moved away.

“Alright mate, no need for that” he stammered, holding his hands up in defeat. Tommy kept the gun trained on him, his eyes never blinking, never moving away from the man and his friends, even after they left. You sighed softly, the fear you had experienced leaving your body.

“(Y/N)! You okay?” John rushed over to your side, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you into a tight hug. Tommy was still frozen facing the door, his jaw twitching angrily.

“I’m okay. I’m okay” you murmured, reaching for the whiskey bottle as he pulled away. You brought it up to your mouth, taking a large gulp before wiping your lips.

“We’ll find out who he is, I fucking promise you. He won’t bother you again” John swore, leading you into the back room, glancing at Tommy with a frown on his face as you both passed. His older brother had now turned his attention to you both, an unrecognizable look forming upon his face. He had dropped his gun down, holding it loosely by his side, his shoulders drooped lowly.

Your mind was spinning, struggling to catch up with the events of the evening so far. You were lucky that Tommy had happened to be there, at just the right time. What puzzled you the most, was his reaction towards it. This was different than the other times he had been your knight in a flat cap. His response had seemed more dramatic, more incensed. You struggled to think about what could have changed, for him to respond in such a manner.

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You awoke the next day, to sunlight filtering through your moth-eaten curtains. You rubbed your eyes, adjusting to the fact that you were now awake. Your mind was throbbing slightly, an effect of the whiskey you had consumed last night. You and John had stayed in The Garrison until early hours, drinking away the memories of the incident. Tommy had sat opposite you both, sullen and silent, barely touching his favourite beverage. You sat up, groaning softly in protest, the room spinning slightly around you, your throat sore with thirst. Water. You needed water.

You began to make your way into your kitchen, your feet padding against the grubby, wooden floor. You made a mental note to clean it later, when you felt more alive. Your flat was modest, just the right size for you. The walls where desperately in need of re-decorating, but you couldn’t afford fresh wallpaper to replace the torn ones that you currently had. You had bookshelves along the hall, each one full to the brim of pages that you had turned time and time again.

The kitchen tiles where cold against your feet, making you shiver slightly. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, you filled it with water from the tap, drinking it down with one gulp before refilling. Two sharp knocks on your front door rang throughout your house. Curious as to who it was, you made your way down the hall, before slowly opening the front door. You were met with a space where someone once was, the area now empty apart from a few passers by going about their day. You were about to shut the door, before your eyes noticed a parcel wrapped in brown parchment on your door step. You knelt down to pick it up, the paper crinkling under your touch.

You barely made it back to your kitchen, before your interest got the better of you. Discarded scraps of paper left a trail through the hall, your heart thumping as you caught side of what was hidden underneath. A brand-new copy of Jane Eyre, the pages white and untainted with fingerprints. You lifted the book up to your nose, your eyes closing with joy as you inhaled in the fresh book smell. There was only one person who could have given you such a well thought out gift.

Tommy fucking Shelby.

*****************************************************************************************************

TOMMYS POV

Tommy would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you at all since the train journey. The truth was, that you consumed his thoughts entirely, and you had done since the day he had first met you. You where thirteen and he had just turned eighteen. He remembered how skinny your legs used to be, constantly covered in bruises from trying to keep up with the boys at school. John had brought you back home for the first time, introducing you proudly to the family as the only girl in school who didn’t think he was stupid. It had soon become clear to you all, that friendship would be the only thing to blossom between you and his brother. Tommy had been there the day you turned sixteen and had witnessed your beauty blossom. He had watched from a distance as you felt grief for the first time, when your mother passed.

Tommy hated to admit that he loved you. He loved you from afar, secretly afraid that admitting his feelings would scare you away. He decided the best thing to do, was to ignore your existence almost altogether. His decision had proved difficult at times, his knuckles stained with mens’ blood from defending you on more than one occasion. Tommys’ brothers, and Aunt Pol where all aware of his infatuation with you. He had drunkenly admitted his feelings to Arthur one night, tired of his brothers constant teasing of you being without a woman. No one ever mentioned it out loud, out of fear that your anger would make an appearance.

When he had seen you on the train, his heart was running a marathon inside his chest. Tommy knew how to talk to women, after all he had shared his bed with plenty. But with you, it was different. You had made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, as if it where smothered with the thickest caramel. You made his words jumble up inside his mind, requiring extra concentration to ensure that he didn’t make a fool of himself. He had cursed himself silently when he saw you grow annoyed at his critique of the book you had been reading. Tommy adored how smart you were. The women he had been with in the past, did not even come close to compare to you. He grew frustrated at himself, for conversing so easily with you. It would have been so much easier for him, to just ignore you. Yet you were like a drug to him. Once he heard the first words spill out from between your lips, he just wanted more of a taste. You made him greedy.

When Tommy had walked into The Garrison that evening, his heart broke at the sight of the man with his arm around your waist. He didn’t quite notice distressed expression that painted your face, until you heard the man talk.

“You’re waiting for no man”.

Anger had risen in him and burned furiously under his skin. How dare anyone talk to you like that. Tommy had pressed the muzzle of his gun, deep into the back of the mans neck, wishing he could pull the trigger. The panicked expression he saw behind your eyes made his heart sink. You were looking at him like that. That’s why Tommy kept his focus upon the man, turning his back to you as the man walked out of The Garrison. Tommy knew the words that where whispered behind his back, and the reputation him and his family upheld. It stung him to think that you saw him in the same light. The mans words had resonated within him. He desperately wished that you where the man you were waiting for. He had turned to face you, struggling to suppress the jealousy he experienced at the sight of you and John.

It would never be him, would it?

He had returned home, Aunt Pol interrogating him as he sat at the table. That woman was like a mother to him. She always had a knack for knowing when something was bothering him. She always claimed that it was due to the gypsy blood in her.

The next day, after encouragement from Aunt Pol, he was at a local bookshop, situated on the outskirts of Small Heath. Tommy knew this would be the place you only visited in your dreams, the prices too extravagant for you. Yet he had watched from a distance, the way your eyes lit up with wonder and want as you walked past. This wasn’t the place a man like him would have ever visited, and he felt out of place as he searched the shelves. He felt curious eyes burn into his back, the whispered questions floating in the air. He ignored them all. You were worth this.

He had wrapped it up neatly in brown parchment, a task which had taken him near enough half an hour. This was not one of Tommys’ strong points, and if it had been a family member he would have given up by now. But he wanted this to be perfect for you. You were worth this.

Tommy had spent twenty minutes on your door step before he knocked on the door, silently arguing with himself as he clutched the parcel. He was debating on the right words to say to you, poetry that would make you melt in his arms. He knocked twice, before fear got the better of him. What was he thinking? He couldn’t talk to you now, he couldn’t think of the perfect words that you deserved. He had left the parcel upon your door step, running to hide behind some crates. He watched as you opened the door, your eyes scanning the area in search of the person who had intruded your peace. Little did you know, it was him. The door closed behind you, and Tommy stood up, his eyes never leaving your door.

It would never be him. Could it?

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perseus-jacks · 4 years

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tagged by @syndullastars thank you !! ♡

on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? I want to say 7, but its probably more like a 4.5

describe yourself in a hashtag? #i’llsleepwheni’mdead (#overlycaffinated applies too)

if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? such a tough question... either Timothée chalamet or Gavin Leatherwood

if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? biggest goofball in the town

what’s one thing people don’t know about you? that I care waaaaaay too much about what others think

what’s your wake up ritual? shower, brush teeth, wash face, get dressed, cook breakfast/make coffee and then read

what’s your go to bed ritual? pick out clothes for the morning, brush teeth, wash face, write agenda for the upcoming day

what’s your favorite time of day? I would say late at night, like at 2am when im the only one up and I can already hear birds chirping outside my window.

your go to for having a good laugh? YouTube videos (commentaries, reviews, and even my fave books as vines)

dream country to visit? Switzerland

what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? my life isnt full of surprises, sadly. I guess when I was able to live and study in Oxford for two days (I honestly didnt know if I could, it was a mess)

heels or flats/sneakers? sneakers

vintage or new? vintage for sure

who do you want to write your obituary? my sister

style icon? a mix of Cher from clueless and Monica Geller, with a hint of my sister’s style ( I draw my inspo from many people ok)

what are three things you cannot live without? friends, my books, my laptop

what’s one ingredient you put in everything? sugar

what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? my mom, my sister, and oddly enough,, van Gough (it would be interesting to share a meal/convo with him)

what’s your biggest fear in life? failing / not living up to my family’s expectations of me

window or aisle seat? Aisle. I love day dreaming while looking out the window, but the aisle is a matter of convince

what’s your current tv obsession? Outer Banks, and I'm trying to get into Anne with an E too

favorite app? Spotify, it houses all my music, and thus, a source of happiness.

secret talent? I can quote every episode of Friends word for word

most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? Spent my spring break in Spain

how would you define yourself in three words? perceptive, passionate, witty

favorite piece of clothing you own? My distressed Shawn Mendes tour T-shirt ( wear like 3 times a week)

a must have clothing item that everyone should have? a black turtle neck

a superpower you would want? telepathy/compulsion

what’s inspiring you in life right now? writers and storytellers

best piece of advice you’ve received? sometimes the best thing to do is take risks without fear of the consequences

best advice you’d give your teenage self? stop worrying so much about what others think and speak you mind always

a book everyone should read? Jane Eyre

what would you like to be remembered for? being a good friend

how do you define beauty? Beauty cant be defined. It's everywhere and in everyone.

what do you love most about your body? My eyes

best way to take a rest/decompress? lounging around and reading with a coffee in hand, or cruising with the windows down with my friends/fam

favorite place to view art? the Met in nyc

if your life was a song, what would the title be? Smile

if you could master one instrument, what would it be? guitar

if you had a tattoo, where would it be? a small crescent moon behind my ear or on the part of my hand that is in-between my thumb and index finger

dolphins or koalas? dolphins !!

what’s your spirit animal? an owl

best gift you’ve ever received? a pretty, vintage looking necklace

best gift you’ve given? I made a friendship timecapsule for my friend when she moved away, and every two weeks or so she would tell me how it cheered her up

what’s your favorite board game? monopoly

what’s your favorite color? cornflower blue

least favorite color? burnt orange (sorry Peeta)

diamond or pearls? diamonds

drugstore makeup or designer? drugstore, it does the job

pilates or yoga? hip-hop yoga

coffee or tea? coffee

what’s the weirdest word in the english language? canoodle, moot

dark chocolate or milk chocolate?both stairs or elevators? stairs, i hate elevators

summer or winter? both

you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? just the thought of that makes me tired of every single food in existence lol

a dessert you don’t like? anything fancy

a skill you’re working on mastering? life drawing and general storyboarding stuff, for school and career purposes

best thing to happen to you today? the clone wars finale :((((

worst thing to happen to you today? also the clone wars finale :((((

best compliment you’ve ever received? a few of my friends have told me that i always know exactly what to say, and that makes me happy bc i try very hard to understand them and be what they need so i’m glad it pays off

favorite smell? pine trees and snow on the air, but also sunscreen and the sea

hugs or kisses? hugs

if you made a documentary, what would it be about? the evolution and highlights of reality tv; its fun to watch but has serious implications if you look closely enough

last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? Wall-E

lipstick or lipgloss? lipgloss

sweet or savory? sweet

girl crush? Jenna Coleman

how do you know you’re in love? i’ve only been in love once and it was a very fledgling thing but it was like, they’re always on your mind, seeing them is like a thunderclap to your heart, you want to be near them and laugh with them, you constantly wonder what they think of you (like the littlest thing), you care about how they see you, time with them feels like nothing and everything

a song you can listen to on repeat? Golden by Harry Styles + Dust Your Pocket by Glass Animals

if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? whoever is dating Gavin Leatherwood, I just want to know what thats like (even if its for a day)

what are you most excited for/about this time in your life? Im excited for law school actually and moving out west

this is long so i’ll just tag a few: @maxons @wizardra @vikingthors @oceanvs @thorne( feel free to ignore ofc ♡ )

#about me

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justhereforseverus · 4 years

Text

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet

Chapter 3: If Music be the Food of Love Play on

The next day I agreed to have lunch with Remus after a rather wild literature class discussing Jane Eyre’s parallels to witches in the muggle world. He always looked a bit worn down but that is more due to his werewolf condition. Thankfully Dumbledore supports him unconditionally and defended him eagerly against any Slytherin parents wanting to leave his teaching position. Although, most of the students love him, and I can see why. He is very down-to-earth and doesn’t judge based on appearance, house or gender. He is the teacher that knows when something is wrong and tries to help you. A sweetheart really. Yet, I know he doesn’t have it easy and the daily bickering of rich parents and the Slytherin house take its toll. I trusted him from the first moment I met him and I appreciate his openness and general chill attitude. I told him about the events of yesterday and mentioned my rather unusual encounter with Severus. He almost spit out his tea – “Wow, ok. I’d never expected him to voluntarily watch the stars with someone. That sounds so romantic™ – here he jokingly slurred his language and pretended to flirt with me - I mean, I’ve known him for so long and our relationship is certainly…. complicated. Nevertheless, that is one side I’ve never seen nor expected of him. Who would’ve thought our little dungeon bat would sit on a bench with a woman while longingly looking at the stars. Maybe he’s gone soft over the years.” – he told me. I asked him what he meant: “Well, you see. He is very hard-working, focused.. always soooo focused on anything he does. A perfectionist quiet often. I respect him for that despite our history and, frankly, hatred for each other. But he never seemed to have time for such things that are outside his work, or anything really that makes life enjoyable. Little things that make people normal. “– here he paused and played a bit with his fork in the food. “On the other side, he could hide it very well. He was always a very buttoned-up person but that’s understandable with his past. I don’t think anyone actually knows him these days apart from Dumbledore maybe.” Here we both paused a bit in reflection. He might be right. I don’t know anything about him. After the first meetings, I also never thought we would have much contact with each other, apart from great feasts and faculty meetings. It’s certainly strange.

After seeing a poster on the wall, I thought of something: “To change the topic a bit – are you going to the concert, today, Remus?” He sighed and said: “Do we really have a choice? I think all teachers have to be present because who else should listen to 2 hours of choral songs” – he winked and continued: “I mean, our choir is not bad per se but I have heard their rehearsals next door for weeks now and I’m not sure it’s going to be headache-free. Their last concert was also disastrous.” I commented: “Oh, come on. Now you’re just mean. Is that appropriate for the most popular teacher at Hogwarts?” – He replied: “Oh, stop it! My preference for music sung in tune won’t endanger my position. But I could use some new competition for a change.” Of course, my answer was: “Challenge accepted!”

Later I arrived in the Great Hall, which has been transformed into a very fancy concert hall with red-velvet seats and a stage fit for the best choir in the whole country. Indeed, most of the teachers have already taken their seats near the front stage. Some were standing around talking to students and colleagues. Though the concert is not mandatory to attend for students most of them welcomed the change of pace. In contrast to literature and theatre, music has its place in the wizarding world starting from the rather cringy school themes to the holistic themes of the Merlin symphony. Music is a tool for concentration and bonding – thus it serves a clear purpose for the wizards and witches. After having a look at the stage, Minerva offered me a seat next to her “Come on, dear. Nice to see you. I hope you enjoy your first concert at Hogwarts. I swear it’s tolerable most of the time.” I smiled, thanked her and sat down. After some minutes of conversation about tea, the latest edition of the magazine “Baking magical sweets for any occasion” and the last transformation exam, the choir took its place on the stage. While they were still shuffling with their sheet notes, I suddenly felt a person taking a seat next to me. I thought it might have been Remus as he still was deep in conversation with Flitwick when I arrived. To my surprise though, it was Severus. He nodded at me and let out a silent hello, as the choir started to sing. I did the same but then focused on whatever was going on in front of me. It flattered me but still I felt unsure. I looked around to see if there were any other seats available and yes, indeed they are many available to choose from. Thus, he didn’t have to sit next to me, but it might have been an active choice. Though, I know that he often sits next to Minerva. Somehow, they both seem to get along well despite their differences and the constant rivalry of their houses. But I don’t think that this was the main reason. Or am I reading too much into this? Oh, gosh, yes, I AM reading too much into this. Yes, absolutely. It’s a perfectly normal action, sitting next to colleagues. Also why do I care? Why do I care that he is so close to me again? Why am I feeling his body next to me despite not touching? What is wrong with me? Ok, back to the concert. Calm down.

I was pleasantly surprised as, apart from one or two wrongly sung notes, the songs have been performed well. One second year Hufflepuff also performed a smashing solo and was applauded for many minutes afterwards. Afterwards, Minerva said to me “Well, that was way better than last year’s performance. They have improved tremendously! You should have been there back then. I’ve never heard such mutilation of beautiful songs before. It was very entertaining though. We poked fun at Flitwick for a month. We might have overdone it a bit though…” . I agreed. I enjoyed it much despite the distraction in form of a tall man dressed in black next to me. I looked to my side and Severus had already stood up and made his way out of the hall. Pity, I’d love to hear his opinion on the performance. That reminds me. He still owes me a potion.

#pro snape #snape appreciation month #severus snape #snape x reader #snape x female reader #snape x oc #fanfiction

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summerb4jc · 5 years

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Ho ho ho, it's your Secret Santa again! 🎅 How are you doing today? I just have a couple more questions for you so I can decide on a gift! 1) What's your favorite thing about the holidays? 2) Do you have a favorite scene in Phantom? Either the book or any adaptation works! 3) You said Christine is your favorite character- what's your favorite thing about her? And... 4) What are you interested in besides Phantom?

Hello Santa! I am doing well today, how are you? Excellent questions yet again! I look forward to seeing what you come up with!

1.) My favorite thing about the holidays is my family! My mom and I are very close, and we both try to make the most of every special occasion, especially Christmas. I love the traditions we share leading up to Christmas, I love how my mom still wakes me up Christmas morning with a cup of peppermint hot cocoa to sip while we read the story of Jesus’ birth. It’s just nice, and even as the years have gone by and things have changed and I’ve grown older, there are little moments throughout where I’ll just be like “it’s Christmas time, and I’m with the people I love!”

2.) Oooh, good question Santa! Ok...so, I was going to say the Appollo’s Lyre chapter (you know the “scene” that scene contains the entire history of Christine’s relationship with the opera ghost, lol) BUT THEN! I remembered my actual favorite, which is the forehead kissing at the end of the book. I love it so much.

3.) Christine’s kindness! She is an excellent character, quietly strong and brave. She is manipulated throughout the story at a time when she is at her weakest, her most vulnerable, and is brought even lower when her Angel of Music, her last tie to her father, turns out to be a sham. She is written with a beautiful depth, shown to be unsure, afraid, weak, but with a strength of character ( i.e. mistress of her own actions), willing to stand her ground when she thinks she is protecting those she loves.

There are a few short lines in the book during Christine and Raoul’s fake engagement, where she is described as a sort of queen of the theater, becuase she seeks out the oldest workers and spends time with them and listens to their stories, she gives treats to the young ballet girls. Carlotta may be the diva, but Christine has won many of their hearts by being kind, by showing attention and care to those around her. And she does this while her world is falling down around her.

This could have easily been a monster story, but because Christine pities Erik, so do we. Her relationship with him is complicated. She longs to be free, but she does not want to hurt a man who has already been hurt so much. At the same time, she wants to protect the man she does love. She is a girl in her early twenties, nearly alone in the world, slowly being drawn into a life of danger and fear, a life she has no control over, and she responds by a kiss on the forehead. I can’t get over it.

4.) I love many things, haha. I love a well-told story, and I consume a lot of media to find them. PotO is pretty much the only fandom I’m active in, but I’m just gonna list some stories that made me go “!!!!!” when I first encountered them:

1.) Jane Austen’s entire body of work

2.) Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

3.) Jim Henson’s Labyrinth

4.) Limetown (podcast. The Facebook watch show isn’t as good.)

5.) A series of unfortunate events

6.) Caraval trilogy by Stephanie Garner

7.) La La Land

8.) The Dark Knight

9.) Marvel’s whole deal

10.) I’ve recently embarked on a quest to read ALL of the Nancy Drew books.

11.) The Blacklist

12.) Gravity Falls

And I think I’ll be done now. Haha, more perhaps than you bargained for. On the whole, my interests are reading, writing, art, drawing, and film/television & the discussion thereof. I hope that helps. Somehow I don’t think it will

#thanks santa #poto secret santa 2019 #poto secret santa #true facts about the octopus in that i am the octopus

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taylorcouldyoubiteme · 5 years

Text

Me,

For Taylor Swift and swifties.

I am an 18 year old woman who believes in love as nature's best medicine, animals as an example of campanionship and loyalty, poetry as one of the most cathartic arts human kind has invented (and one of the most intresting and significant), music as a compass and a guide to discover ourselves, writing as an experience to explore your desires and wounds (and also to heal them).

I was born in Colombia, and I got from it most of what I am today: my Spanish, being comfortable with greeting strangers or even talking about life with a taxi driver without thinking it's weird, my loud laughter, my big latin family, my culture, my education and my perspective about any topic. And I love my roots.

However, I have always felt deeply in love with the English language, and as a 6 year old I was only interested in artists and writers who spoke English because I wanted so badly to learn and get in touch with it.

My cousin and I would get online for hours and hours just to try and sing along to any song we found, understand its lyrics, read short stories, find books, and I started getting older and getting to know the artists that inspired me the most. And I found Taylor. I listened to her music for a while, but had never watched her music videos nor did I know how she looked. I liked the way the songs made me feel at home, even when I couldn't understand what they were really about or what they were meant to make you feel: I always felt at home. And then, as a 9 year old I went on Youtube and I searched for the person who had been by my side while I was growing up. I did not feel as a hardcore fan, I just liked her and wanted to see her and suddenly the girl named 'Taylor Swift' had blue eyes, and blonde her, and walked around falling in love to this guy who lived next door and then she looked as a goddess and got him. And it made an impact on me. Seeing her made an impact. I finally got to meet her (or so it felt) and I got obsessed with her music videos, and I started studying her writing skills, I would translate or try to get the message just by understanding the context, and then all over again with every single one of her songs.

Next thing I knew is I was waiting for this girl to drop more albums, and now it mattered. I cared. And I have cared since then.

Now I don't need any help to go through her lyrics, and I memorize her songs as soon as they are released, I believe I'm capable of speaking fluently and even use idioms just because I have seen them in Taylor's songs.

And of course, many artists have helped me in the process and books as 'To kill a mockingbird', 'Jane Eyre' and 'Wuthering Heights' have been great teachers, but Taylor is the main reason why I love living my life, more than a teacher she has been my friend and I have grown to adore her.

I have had my lows, extreme lows, and my now stunning highs, and I have told Taylor everything about it since then, through my diaries, direct messages, others posts because she's a part of me and I am thankful.

Because of her I have felt proud of me. 💗

P.s: Taylor, thank you for 'The Archer'. I had my top 10 fav Tay's songs with no updates and The Archer went straight to be my second fav with no hesitation, and it has already made Lover an album I carry in my entire soul. It has already stood out for me. And I am so surprised that happened because I didn't think my list would change and POW, you made that.

@taylorswift

#taylor swift #taylorswift #you are so meaningful to me and I love you

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g-r-e-y-eyes · 6 years

Text

Day 15: They’re not good for you | Sirius Oswald

★ Ikemen Revolution Fanfic ★ Sirius Oswald X OC Note: SFW | AU Prompt List Read Part Two

I leaned against my locker and checked my watch. 7.20AM. Any time now. I adjusted my leather jacket and dusted any crumbs off. I wasn’t wearing any of my piercings today and it felt weird but I didn’t care. I stared into the glass panel on the notification board on the opposite side of me. Okay, I looked decent. I contemplated whether I should leave my jacket on. The words ‘Rose Ravens’ were emblazoned on the back in white stitches.

I hear familiar footsteps coming down the hallway and quickly unlocked my door, reaching my hand inside to grab, well, nothing. There wasn’t much in there. I hadn’t bothered bringing any books to school. Damn, maybe I should.

I peeked from the side of my eye and saw her walking over to the locker just beside mine.

“Hey, Vicki.”

She looked up from her book in surprise.

“Sirius? You’re early again.”

I shrugged.

“I, well... I thought maybe I should get a head start on our Literature essay. To be honest, i’m not sure what i’m doing.” It was a lie. If she saw the amount of books I had stacked in my room, she would know.

She opened her locker and placed her current book inside, swapping it for Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre. She closed her locker and walked away. I stared at her, disappointment on my face. It was then she turned.

“Well, what are you waiting for? You wanted help right?” She said, smiling. There was a faint blush on her cheeks.

I nodded and I walked towards her, a little too eagerly.

We sat next to each other in the classroom as we studied chapter 27 of the book. She was going through each line, and I couldn’t help but stare at her. She looked beautiful, determined and passionate. I smiled. When she suddenly grasped my hand, I felt a jolt of electricity course through me.

“Oh! This is my favourite quote from the chapter!” She said, delight on her face.

I looked to where she was pointing and read the quote out loud.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you. You are my sympathy–my better self–my good angel–I am bound to you with a strong attachment,” I pointed at each word as I read and she nods with encouragement. I continue.

“I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

I felt a plethora of feelings wash over me. It was perfect. It was how I felt about her. Our eyes met at one and the same time and I saw a look in her eyes that i’ve never seen before. It was one of many things- surprise, confusion and... want? I realised that she hadn’t released her grasp on my hand. I turned my hand over, intertwining my fingers with hers.

“Sirius...”

My breath hitched, hearing her say my name.

“I-”

“So have you finished the essay?” A voice came from outside the classroom.

Vicki gasped and released her hand from my grasp. It shouldn’t have stung but it did.

I looked around the cafeteria, trying to spot her. She had fled the classroom right after the bell for recess rang and I was sore over the fact that I didn’t get to ask her if she wanted to eat with us. I sighed, not noticing that Ray, Fenrir, Luka and Seth were staring at me.

“So,” Fenrir eyed me with a smirk. “What’s with you and the new girl?”

Ray was spotting a smirk as well.

“We noticed that you’ve been coming to school early. Could it have anything to do with Vicki?”

I shrugged.

“Maybe. Does it matter?” I say nonchalantly.

Luka was wide-eyed.

“Do you like her?”

I blushed.

“I do,” I say, my voice a whisper.

Seth clapped his hands together.

“I never thought Vicki would be your type but I’m happy that you’ve finally found someone you like.”

“Yeah! Vicki’s such a... good girl. We’re greasers,” Fenrir said, pulling the collar of his jacket. “What drew you to her?”

I said nothing. Luka nudged me.

“Come on, Sirius. I want to know too.”

I rolled my head back.

“What can I say? She’s kind, smart and so, so beautiful. I really love-” My eyes hardened as I took in the sight in front of me. Ray arched an eyebrow and followed my gaze. The others follow suit.

She was sitting with them. Them. She was talking to Jonah Clemence and he was looking at her with an expression i’ve seen before. The very same expression I have when I looked at her. I clenched my fist, turning my knuckles white.

“My brother?” Luka said, an edge to his voice.

I ignored him, looking on. Jonah leaned into her ear, whispering something that earned him a sweet giggle from her. I inhaled sharply, jealousy filling my lungs. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek after he was done. My emotions got the better of me and I stood up and walked over immediately.

“Hey, Clemence. Get your hands off her.” I say, my voice ice.

Jonah looked up lazily.

“Oh, it’s you.”

I glared at him.

“Don’t ever touch her again.”

Jonah scoffed.

“And who are you to say that exactly? You’re beneath us, dirty greaser.”

It took all control for me not to punch him. He continued, his face smug.

“Don’t you agree, Lancelot? Would you really want your pretty cousin here hanging around this rift-raff?”

Lancelot said nothing and I saw Jonah’s eye twitch. He turned to Vicki.

“Vicki, darling. Would you like to come over to my place after school? We could study together.”

She blushed and looked down at her lap. My heart felt like it was shattering. No, say no.

“I-” She stuttered.

Jonah smiled, his eyelashes drooping slightly.

“If you don’t want to study, we could always do other stuff. I wouldn’t mind if it’s you.” He touched her cheek once again.

Everything that happened after was a blur. My fist connected with Jonah’s nose and I heard Vicki call my name. I punched him again, my fist bloodied.

“Sirius!” Her cry woke me up from my rage. I looked up at her tear stricken face and my heart broke.

“Vicki...”

I shook my head and left the cafeteria in a hurry, hearing Fenrir’s wolf whistle and roar of approval.

Once I was inside the classroom, I sat down with a slump. Fuck. Me. Now she’ll never want to see me ever again. I knew I shouldn’t have punched him but I couldn’t help it. When I saw him touching her, I just... lost all control. I wanted to be the only one to touch her.

I pressed my forehead to the desk and closed my eyes. I pictured her smile in my mind after I had read her favourite quote. I want to see that smile again...

I felt someone brush my hair and I lifted my head. Her worried face greeted me and my eyes widened.

“Vicki?” I murmur. I couldn’t believe it.

“Are you alright?” She asked. She took the seat in front of me.

I nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

“Why did you... Is he okay?”

She shrugged.

“I... I don’t know. I came straight to you after you left.”

My lips parted and I felt my heart beating like a jackhammer.

“I didn’t think you would care about me,” I admitted.

She blushed, and peeked at me through her lashes.

“I... I do care. I lik-” I touched her lip with my finger.

“No, let me say it first.”

She bit her lip.

“You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought,” I breathed. “I love you.”

Her eyes twinkled and she giggled.

“That’s from The White Company,” She said, surprised. “By Arthur Conan Doyle.”

Her look of surprised made me laugh and realisation hit her.

“You were lying weren’t you? When you said you didn’t know what to do.”

I shrugged and she hit me lightly on the arm. Before she pulled back, I grabbed her hand, intertwining our fingers like I did before. Her brown eyes stared into my amethyst ones and I wish time would stop. I heard faint noises outside and I loosened my grip to allow her to let go. She gripped my hand tightly and smiled a shy smile. I grin back. She didn’t let go. I won’t too, forever.

#ikemen revolution #ikemen series #36daysofikemen #sirius oswald #grease #fanfiction #vickiwrites

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