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wisteriadumster · 5 months

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After Party ❥Arthur Morgan

ARTHUR MORGAN X FEMALE READER

CW➻❥ Semi public sex ⋆ orgasm⋆ drinking ⋆

WC➻❥1700➻❥ this isn't well proof read so any mistakes or odd things are purely accidental

Summary➻❥ After your father dragged to the mayor of Saint Denis’ party, you drunkenly but mostly soberly hook up with a Mr. Arthur Kilgore right outside in a carriage

A/N ➻❥ I didn’t think I would actually finish this but I’ve been on a writing groove lately so more fics to come hopefully

Do Not Steal Or Translate My Work!

You were at Mayor Lemieux’s garden party, your father had begged you to go, simply to find you a husband. You walked around, observing all the older men, did your father really think one of these men could sweep you off your feet?

“More wine?” A server came up to you, “oui, s'il vous plait” you set your glass on his tray, his other hand replaced your empty one with another glass, “merci.”

You examined the balcony, “important” men were staring back, one of them was Angelo Bronte. Your fathers most evil associate, you knew Mr.Bronte was nothing but a manipulative and greedy immigrant. You would beg your father to cut ties from Bronte but you were waved away every time.

“Ah there she is!” Your father wrapped his arm around your back, “oh Mayor Lemieux, what a party,” you smiled.

“Merci, are you enjoying the vin?” His voice seemed awkward, “why of course, you surely pick well.”

A small group had formed, your father refused to let you leave, in hopes you’d be attracted by these married “suitors.” A man that had been on the balcony joined the group, “Mayor, what a pleasure.” He clasped his hand with Lemieux’s glove, “are you enjoying yourself sir?” He cleared his throat against his accent, “it’s, different.” Perhaps your father was right to make you stay, “I haven’t seen you before.” Your father remarked, the man awkwardly laughed, “I’m an oil man out west, I’m visiting for business.”

“Well mister oil man would you mind grabbing a drink with me?” You unlocked your arm from your fathers. “I can’t deny a drink,” he smiled and began walking with you.

“Are you married mister?” You dragged, “Kilgore.” He answered, “I am a single man darlin’.”

You blushed and made it to the bar, “bonjour madame, monsieur,” the bartender grinned.

“Bonne soirée,” you greeted back, “I’ll have a glass of champagne, and for you Mister Kilgore?” He cleared his throat, “do you have whiskey?” Mr.Kilgore seemed nervous, “oh why of course monsieur!” The bartender gleamed, he set down the glass of champagne and began pouring the glass of whiskey.

“Merci beaucoup,” you cheered your class and stepped away from the bar. Mr.Kilgore set his hand on the bottom of your back as you navigated through the crowd.

With drinks in your system, you had been flirting with Mr.Kilgore the entire night, he wasn’t rejecting them either.

“What if we go somewhere, more private?” You giggle, “if we leave this party, you’re gonna love me tonight.” He remarked, “will you leave with me?” You advanced, he smirked and looked away from you, “are you sure about that darlin’?” His voice rasped, “I wouldn’t be asking now would I?”

You had both snuck just outside the mayor's home, an empty carriage sat just down the road. “What if we,” you hint as you slow at the carriage, “sweetheart that’s a bit risky now ain’t it?” He was hesitant, “well mister Kilgore, this whole ordeal is quite risky itself, I think it could be fun.” You smirk, your free hand opening the door,

Mr.Kilgore gently closed the door to the one bench carriage. It was small but how much room did you even need? Your ballgown surely didn’t fit within the confines of the carriage, but it didn’t matter, Mr.Kilgore would be tearing you out of it in a moment.

He scrunched his lips as he studied your dress, “oh don’t worry sir, it’s a simple one, just get the strings.” You had slipped in a rather simple ball gown, everything was already attached to the dress, the only thing you had to do was slip into it.

You turned yourself away from Mr.Kilgore, your back was touched by cold calloused hands as he worked through the tight strings.

“What’s your name Mister Kilgore?” You finally asked, you figured you should know the man’s name before he saw your bare body. “Arthur,” he pulled the final silk lace loose.

You took a deep breath as the constricting pressure released. You pushed the straps that laid on your shoulders, your breathing was heavy as Arthur’s hand hesitantly pulled on the fabric that covered you. “Are you sure about this?” He looked up from your cleavage, his eyes desperately searching your face for an answer, “absolutely.” You pulled on his bow tie, bringing him into a delicate and precise kiss. Your head was slightly cocked, your lips slowly connected, distracting you as Arthur’s hands meticulously removed your dress.

Your torso was exposed, the rest of your outfit was a large mass of blue that flooded the carriage.

You could feel your lipstick rubbing off against Arthur’s face, marking where your scandalous lips had touched.

“Darlin’ I need a bit of your assistance,” he pulled back, looking down at your body and the pestering ball gown. You did your best to stand in the cramped space, Arthur’s hands pushed the dress down your legs, revealing how carelessly you were dressed beneath your dress.

There was a moment, Arthur was quiet as he admired your body. You blushed at how vulnerable you had made yourself for a man you had only known for two hours.

You pulled on the buttons of Arthur’s dress shirt, “Mister Kilgore if you mind, I would like a chance to study your body.” You giggled.

You both tackled the suit that Arthur wore: removing his jacket, bow tie, and his white button up. His hand travelled around to it neck, touching the back of it before intertwining itself with your styled hair. He pulled you in for another kiss, his warm body touching against yours as your bodies shifted.

He was on top of you, his fingers squeezing and wondering over your breast. The kiss was hot and heavy; moments away from escalating to what you wanted.

He pulled back from the kiss, looking down as he directed his hand to his pants. You looked back up, fixated on his face.

He looked back to you, both of you making the same expression of shock as his cock pushed through, entering into your eager and wet pussy.

“Fuck,” you blurted as he continued to let himself fully fit. Arthur gritted his teeth and let out a groan as he adjusted himself.

His pace started slow, he analyzed you searching for the speed that pleased you best.

You gripped the back of the seat, your nails digging into the leather. Arthur was quiet with his groans, you could feel the hot air leave his nostrils as his chest rumbled.

“You like that sweetheart?” He asked, unsure of his next move. “Faster,” you mustered before wrapping a hand in his hair and pulling him into a kiss. Arthur obeyed the command and increased his pace, your skin smacking together a little harder.

You pulled at his short hair, moaning against his lips every time his tip hit exactly where it needed.

You pulled back from the ravenous kiss, “we should really get back to the party.” Anxiety had washed over you, what could your father be thinking right now, what if he needed you.

“Darlin’ I’ll do whatever you want,” he finished with a deep and aggressive thrust.

You practically belted out a moan at the sudden feeling, your hands gripping and digging into whatever they held onto.

The thrusts were delicate, Arthur slowly taking you through a growing climax. Arthur was nuzzled in your neck, kissing your fragile skin.

“I really think,” you sentence is cut by a moan. Every time you felt that you should really stop, your body would always react, begging to stay.

Your hands were travelling around his sculpted torso, taking in how his chest hair covered his body in a light layer. “Take a breath darlin’.” He smiled against your lips, you inhaled, deeply.

A hard thrust caused that air to come rushing back out, your nails to dig into his back, something you had only just started navigating.

A hot flash ran over you, your orgasm flowing throughout you. Your legs shook as the pleasurable feeling finally drained out of you.

You were panting hard, your body recovering from the surge of overstimulation.

Arthur pulled back from you, his body soaked in a layer of sweat, a combination of his and yours.

You opened your mouth to speak, but words were unable to process and come out.

“Best we should back, right sweetheart?” Arthur’s words pulled you out of the haze that he had put you in, as well as the alcohol in your system, if it hadn’t been sweated out.

“I suppose you’re right Mister Kilgore.” You sat up, your chest rising and lowering, synchronized with Arthur’s.

You searched through the sea of your ballgown, finding the corseted top.

You turned your back to Arthur, who was finishing the buttons of his dress shirt. “Do you mind?” You asked, “it ain’t gon’ to look pretty.” He admitted and grabbed the loose corset lace.

He pulled the final string tight and brushed your shoulders. “Would you like me to do your bow tie?” You turned, “nah, I think my outfit will do fine without it.” He tucked it inside his jacket coat.

As you stepped out of the carriage, cold and freeze air greeted your nostrils.

You looked back at the carriage, the mirrors were significantly fogged. You looked down the street, a man and woman watching from beneath the light of a streetlamp.

You embarrassing smiled, your face becoming flush in color.

You pulled your hair out of the now messed up-do.

You fluffed your hair with your fingers roughly, hoping the curls from the previous hairstyle could save your up kept look. “Darlin’ you look just fine,” Arthur looked at you, “are you sure?” You begged, Arthur stopped walking, holding your shoulders. “Sweetheart you look just as beautiful as when I first looked at ya.” A smile gently cracked from your worried frown.

“Now darlin’ would you like get back to that party?” He let go of your shoulders, his arm slowly jutting out. You interlocked your arm with his and continued your strut down the street back to the mayors house.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #writing #smut #wisteriadumster #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader

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stinkysam · 2 months

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Serge "Frenchie" - Meeting the boys.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : The boys meet you, Frenchie's boyfriend. Idea by @jadenisdead

Reader : male (he/you)

They met you by accident.

There was a hero convention. But mainly it was far right wing propaganda. Guns, disturbing pro-life posters, anti-lgbt stands next to bibles and Jesus on his cross with racists flyers and a few occasional supes.

There were only two ways to get in. Be a supe, like Starlight who brought the boys with her, or pay. Like you did.

You had to pay a rather high price to get in but you didn't care. You wanted to take photos and film everything that was happening. To show to those who didn't attend how dangerous the “mindset” they proudly flaunted here was. And mostly, to put on display the faces of the proud nazis who were here so people would know to not approach them.

The boys followed Annie, watching around and trying to gather information on their way. That is until Frenchie saw you.

He didn't recognize you. You were in plain clothes, no pins or stickers on your bag, shirt, jacket or cap, your tattoos were hidden and your piercings were gone. You even had a small cross hanging around your neck to complete the good christian look.

He stopped in his tracks and blinked hard, rubbing his eyes as well. Did you have a clone ? Kimiko stopped too, noticing Frenchie wasn't following anymore.

But that's when you turned your face toward him for a few seconds that he recognized you. His eyes grew in size, shock evident and Kimiko looked at him.

“What ?” She signed. No response. She wanted to hit him on the arm to get his attention but Frenchie walked away before she could do anything. Quickly she tapped Hughie's shoulder who stopped everyone.

“Qu'est-ce tu fais là ?” Frenchie asked you, voice quiet to not attract attention, grabbing your elbow. You snapped your head toward him and pulled your arm away out of reflex. Your eyes got round when you saw him, before frowning in confusion.

“Toi, qu'est-ce tu fais là ?”

“J’ai demandé en premier.” He replied with a smirk, almost proud of it. You sighed and rolled your eyes, slightly amused.

“C'est pour mon blog.” You started. “Je veux que les gens sachent ce qu'il se passe vraiment dans ces conventions. Que les supes ne sont pas de notre côté. Le peuple, les minorités.”

Frenchie smiled. He knew you hated supes, you had always been very vocal about it even before dating him or knowing about his “friends”. You even had pins and shirts with anti-supes messages on them.

You'd often get comments about them. Not always good ones. But you didn't care.

“Du coup ? Tu fais quoi içi ? Y'a les gars ?” You asked, looking around for them but before he could answer, a voice was heard behind him.

“Who's that ?” A skinny guy with curls was looking at you… Along with his friends. An angry looking guy with black hair, one looking just as tough but less angry, a blonde girl who's clearly in hiding clothes and one with black hair and a confused expression on her face.

“C'est eux ?” You asked, pointing at them with your head.

Frenchie moved to your side, chuckling lightly as he scratched his nose and planted his hand on your back.

“Oui. [Name], this is the boys.” He said, and pointed at them one by one. “Petit Hughie, monsieur le charcutier, M.M, Annie and Kimiko. Boys, this is [Name], my huh…” He looked around quickly, making sure no one was listening and continued, leaning closer to them as he spoke quietly with a smile. “my boyfriend.”

The charcutier ? Butcher, you supposed, rolled his eyes as he turned away along with M.M who placed a hand on his shoulder, seemingly trying to calm him. Clearly this was not the reveal Butcher was hoping for. Was he hoping you’d have a way to help them ? You irked an eyebrow at his reaction. But Kimiko's eyes lit up along with Hughie's and Annie’s.

“Your boyfriend ?” Kimiko signed excitedly before hitting him and signing again. “Why didn't you tell me ?”

“That's- great.” Hughie said, a bit shocked, still looking at you. “Why didn't you tell us ?” He smiled as he turned his attention back to Frenchie.

“Well…” He started as you stared at Hughie and Kimiko. That's when it hit you. They're the Kimiko and the Hughie. You cut him off.

“You're Kimiko ? I've heard so much about you, hi !” You smiled brightly before looking at Hughie. “And you're the guy he kissed ?” You say more quietly, squinting your eyes.

Hughie frowned, confused before remembering what you were referencing. Fuck, why did Frenchie tell you that ?

“No- it's just- it’s because, you see- compound V-” He began, panicking and sweating, looking both at you and Annie putting his hands in front of himself before seeing you laugh. “W- what ?”

“You did great. Good job for the V.” You said, patting his arm before turning to Annie. “And you too. I don't know how things are in the tower but thank you for helping anyway.”

Annie eyed Hughie, still confused about the kiss thing but smiled at you nonetheless, but before she could say anything, Butcher spoke. She side eyed him, not appreciating being cut off.

“We ain't got all day. He coming with us or not ?” He said coldly, looking at Frenchie who quickly shook his head side to side.

“No, no, no, no, no. He's not coming. It's too dangerous.”

“Pourquoi pas ? Je pourrais montrer au monde à quel point ils sont dangereux.” You pointed to your camera hooked to your jacket with your head, his hand was still on your back.

“Non, c'est trop dangereux.” He turned you so you could face only him. “Je veux pas que tu sois blessé ou encore plus traumatisé.”

You sighed. He was right. But still.

“Et toi, alors ?” You asked, tilting your head to the side, frowning.

“Mais moi c'est pas grave, qu'est-ce qu'on en a à foutre ?” He said with a smile almost laughing as if his life didn't matter.

“Dit pas ça, connard.” Your fist hit his arm harshly. “Je n'en ai pas rien à foutre de toi, moi. Tu comprends ?”

He sighed. It's true you cared about him, things were different, he couldn't just put his life on the line without hurting people. You, Cherie, Kimiko, even the boys would care if he died.

He wanted to rest his forehead against yours but he abstained from doing so knowing it would attract attention. So instead he grabbed your hands.

“Tout va bien aller. Y'a deux supes sur qui je peux compter maintenant. Et Butcher et M.M, même. Et y'a même petit Hughie !” He smiled, trying to let his confidence ease your worries.

“Il sait tenir une arme ?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, looking over his shoulders to watch Hughie.

“...Oui.” He said after a moment, moving his head to get back into your eyesight. Hughie didn't really know how to shoot or how to reload any gun but… it wasn't Hughie's first time holding one. It wasn't yours either.

“C'est pas convainquant du tout…”

“Stop. Tu ne peux pas venir avec nous. Je suis désolé.”

Frenchie took it, hooking it to his jacket quickly before pulling away, squeezing your hands gently.

“Ok. J'ai compris.” You replied a bit too coldly for your liking, looking away. “Prends ma deuxième petite caméra avec toi. Elle filme. Comme ça je louperai rien.” You added, looking into your bag to give him your other camera, the one that filmed everything.

“Je t'aime.” He said with a smile.

“Je t'aime aussi.” You replied watching him walk toward the boys waiting for him.

You saw Kimiko sign something to him, and they both looked at you. He signed something back and Kimiko smiled. You didn't know what this was about but you knew you were the topic with how she looked at you before waving goodbye to you and disappearing into the crowd.

You waited a moment, waiting for them to completely be gone and went back to what you were doing. Taking pictures of the stands, posters, and people discreetly, hoping nothing bad would happen to Frenchie.

Traduction - Translation :

(Toi,) qu'est-ce tu fais là - (You,) what are you doing here ?

J'ai demandé en premier - I asked first.

C'est pour mon blog. - It's for my blog.

Je veux que les gens sachent ce qu'il se passe vraiment dans ces conventions. Que les supes ne sont pas de notre côté. Le peuple. Les minorités. - I want people to know what's really happening in these conventions. The supes are not on our side. The people, minorities.

Du coup ? Tu fais quoi içi ? Y'a les gars ? - So ? What are you doing here ? The boys are here ?

C'est eux ? - It's them ?

Pourquoi pas ? Je pourrais montrer au monde à quel point ils sont dangereux. - Why not ? I could show the world how dangerous they are.

Non, c'est trop dangereux. - No, it's too dangerous.

Je veux pas que tu sois blessé ou encore plus traumatisé - I don't want you to get hurt or even more traumatized.

Et toi, alors ? - And you, then ?

Mais moi c'est pas grave, qu'est-ce qu'on en a à foutre ? - But for me it's not important, what shit do we give ?

Dis pas ça, connard. - Don't say that, asshole.

Je n'en ai pas rien à foutre de toi, moi. Tu comprends ? - I do not not give a shit about you, you understand ?

Tout va bien aller. Y'a deux supes sur qui je peux compter maintenant. Et Butcher et M.M, même. Et y'a même petit Hughie ! - Everything's going to be fine. There's two supes I can count on now. And Butcher and M.M, even. And there's even petit Hughie !

Il sait comment tenir une arme ? - He knows how to hold a weapon ?

C'est pas convainquant du tout. - It's not convincing at all.

Stop. Tu ne peux pas venir avec nous. Je suis désolé - Stop. You can't come with us. I'm sorry.

Ok, j’ai compris. - Okay, I understand.

Prends ma deuxième petite caméra avec toi. Elle filme. Comme ça je louperai rien. - Take my second small camera with you. It's filming. That way I won't miss a thing.

Je t'aime (aussi). - I love you (too).

#male reader #m!reader #the boys #frenchie #the boys imagine #the boys x male reader #frenchie imagine #frenchie x male reader #the boys tv show #frenchie the boys

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theroyalthornoliachronicles · 5 months

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Château de Clèrisseau: 23 Mai 1850, 14:15

Marquis de Clèrisseau: I'll be back in time to change for dinner, Auclair. I'll need to be if not to receive another lecture from-Roquefort?

Vicomte de Vignieu: Bonne journée, Valery.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Bonne journée....that'll be all, Auclair.

Valet: Monsieur. [Leaves]

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Well this is certainly a surprise. What possibly brings you by? Surely it's too early to call on-

Vicomte de Vignieu: Oh, non...I actually came to speak with le Duc.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: [Sighs Dramatically] I suppose it was inevitable...

Vicomte de Vignieu: Pardon?

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just off in my own thoughts I suppose....lots to do, people to see...I'm sure you of all people can understand.

Vicomte de Vignieu: Has anyone bothered to mention how tiresome you can be?

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Perhaps...though I suppose hearing it once more from you couldn't hurt.

Vicomte de Vignieu: [Scoffs] I do not have time to verbally spar with you this afternoon, Valery. I was told le Duc would be in this afternoon?

Marquis de Clèrisseau: You were misinformed.

Vicomte de Vignieu: I sincerely doubt that.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: And just what, might I ask, has you so insistent to see him at this hour? He is a very busy man, after all.

Vicomte de Vignieu: If you must know, I've called on him to ask for Eleanor's hand.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: ...

Vicomte de Vignieu: I don't think I've ever seen you without words, Ernest. Cat got your tongue, perhaps?

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Have you truly thought this through, Albert?

Vicomte de Vignieu: I don't know what you're insin-

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Don't lie to me, Roquefort. It's clear as day to anyone with eyes. My sister is not a pawn for your jealous squabbles with-

Vicomte de Vignieu: I never said she was-

Marquis de Clèrisseau: And yet you stand here waiting to ask for her hand.

Vicomte de Vignieu: I do not need to explain myself to you.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Non....because the answer is obvious. You need to-

Duc de Clèrisseau: Ah, Vicomte.

Duc de Clèrisseau: I do hope not to have kept you waiting.

Vicomte de Vignieu: Of course not, Monsieur. Bonne journée. Your delay allowed me the opportunity to catch up with Ernest, here. It has been quite a while since we've had the chance to connect.

Duc de Clèrisseau: Ah, oui, oui. All of you used to be so close back in the day...but I suppose I have kept you waiting long enough. Shall we?

Previous | Beginning | Next

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celaestis1 · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday Thursday Almost Friday

Thank you to @stutteringpeach for the tag!

Paris is still sleeping when the phone beside their bed goes off. Alex gropes to answer it. “‘Lo?” “Bonjour, Monsieur le Duc. You requested an alarm call,” the concierge says in impeccable English. “It is four a.m.” “Er, right. Merci,” Alex mumbles. “De rien. Do you require breakfast to your suite, Monsieur?” “Er- Oui d’accord, s’il vous plait.” “Tres bien. Au revoir.” Alex replaces the phone in the charging cradle and turns over to his husband. Henry is still fast asleep, his golden hair in disarray, eyes closed, pink mouth slack. He’s on his front, the sheets around his waist and exposing his broad shoulders and the taper of his upper body down towards his waist. There’s a purple bruise on his right shoulder blade that’s the exact size and shape of Alex’s mouth. One of his hands is under the pillow, the other on top of it by his cheek. It’s his left hand, the golden wedding band shining dimly against the cream of the pillow case. Alex can’t help putting his own left hand beside Henry’s, just to see the rings together. His grin is probably completely besotted, but he’s on his honeymoon; he figures he’s allowed.

Tagging @inexplicablymine @rmd-writes @clottedcreamfudge @cha-melodius @xthelastknownsurvivorx (Although as it's almost Friday feel free to leave it till next Wednesday!) 😘

#red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #ao3 #rwrb movie #alex speaks a bit of french in this because i say he does

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anime-is-godlike · 1 year

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Twisted wonderland dorms x esmeralda reader

One day the dorm leaders (jamil instead of kalim for this one) finds a magical stone with the power to show parts of the past of someone close to them they choose not to use it to respect there privacy of that person but shenanigans ensue and the stone is used and there shown there dear SO’s past

This is the Disney version of the hunchback of notre dame

Heartslabyul-savanaclaw-octavinelle-scarabia - pomefiore-ignihyde-diasomnia

pomefiore

Vil heels was clipping on the floor as he was walking through the halls of his dorm being the elegant man he was when he Heard the sound of his heel kicking something he didn’t think much of it and decided find rook he needed some advice

“Where is he?” Vil stroked his cheek he turned around and again he kicked something he finally looked down and saw a stone it looked like a very ordinary stone but something seemed to interest him like a hides beauty

He saw sure if he said that out loud he would hear his hunter friend spouting poetry and cheesy romantic line he thought back on the time rook tried his poetry with you and the look of confusion and disgust on your face nearly made him laugh

“This stone looks familiar roi du poison” a voice said next to rook in his ear he blinked only one person was so bold to do this to thee vil shoenheit

“Rook I have been calling for you” he turned to look at the hunter with a frown

“Oui I heard but I was to busy looking for monsieur cherry apple” vil nod his head and noticed a purple hair boy coming towards them along with a flee bag which vil turned his head at

“Epel why is grim here?” Vil asked but before epel could answer grim yelled out

“Myaaaaaa vil I smelt something here!!” Vil tilted his head at the cat

“What ever do you mean?” Vil asked to which grim got into even more of a huff

“It smells like the black rock I wanna eat it!!!” Grim yelled out flying around like a angry child

“Monsieur fuzzball please be calm like summers day” sadly vil was cut of by grim lunging at vil

“I can smell it in your hand!!” Grim said all vil could do was sigh he had half a mind to just give grim the stone so he’d leave him alone

“Wait grim stop!!” Epel said grabbing onto grim and rook grabs epel giving him a helping hand vil slightly opens his palm and is met with a blinding light and darkness

……………

Vil rubbed his eyes and got of the floor quickly the floor felt dirty and he had no clue how long he was on the floor a noise was next to him

“God dang dab it where in the hells are we?” Epel said with his ghastly accent well at least in vils eyes he tried to think back trying to wonder how they got into this situation

Around then where stone walls and candles lit the room with many stone pillars holding up the roof it was weird the candles didn’t flicker and the wind was stagnant almost like time was frozen then a flicker of light illuminated the dark place a small orb floats down

“Good evening” it said in a high pitched voice

“Hello” vil said with a cross of his arms

“Ahhh finally I polite one!” It said flying up and down almost like it was bouncing

“Could you please explain what is going on?” Epel asked in a somewhat shaky voice

“Ahhh I see …usually the headmaster tells them it they know immediately this is weird……” the last part was a whisper that the others couldn’t catch

“Hehehe anyway this is what you call a memory stone and it shows you memory’s of the person closest to your heart but you can’t refuse to see these memories before you deny” it said with a nod the others look at each other

“Nyaaaaa we gotta see memories that’s boring!!!” Grim yelled

“Ahhh still the same every time I see you fur ball?” Vil and rook and epel tilted there head the same have grim and the orb met before?

“Ahhhhhh anyway since vil activated it you’ll be seeing yuu’s memories” it said floating around proud vil thought on it the most he knew of your past was that you where a gypsy and that you have a goat named jolly who he despises as does jolly with him

“Okay now let’s get down to business usually I’d show 3 items which hold special memories of yuu but I’m kinda getting bored of repeating the same stuff so this time around” a crown like object floats down from the darkness in the ceiling

“Since you’ve been kind to me…unlike that lion…I’ll let you see her passion” it whispers again in the middle of the sentence

“Also since you’ve been extra nice I’ll let you hear her sing ahhhh what a wonderful singer she is” it said in a dreamy voice and vil has a think back when has he ever heard you sing during the song competition you didn’t audition you just helped out with managing the team

“Have fun~” it said the crown floats down and the scene before then starts there in the same building but now everything was moving the candles flickering but now something was added yuu was in front of them leaning against the piller

“Wow so this is dame corbeau home” rook said eyeing the place like a hawk

“Be quiet” epel whisper yelled

Your leaning against the piller and yuu sighs out with jolly by her feet it she looks over to a couple people on there knees preying

youtube

“I don’t know if you can hear me” she sang in a soft voice looking at a statue of a women holding a child

“Of if your even there” she walked closer to the statue hands in front looking up at it

“I don’t know if you would listen to a gypsy’s prey” she looked down

“Yes I know I’m just a outcast” she looks away

“I shouldn’t speak to you” she looks at the statue again

“Still I see you face and wander…where you once a outcast too” vil rook epel and grim where floored they’ve never heard such a beautiful voice before

“Wow but the word seem sad?” Epel said and vil nods he’ll ask once he’s back home about your past you turn around and start walking through the hall of lit candles

“God help the outcast” you sand taking each step

“Hungry from birth show then the mercy they don’t find on earth” your face was illuminated by the candles which made you even more enchanting in vils eyes

“God help my people we look to you still god help the outcasts… or nobody will” yuu is walking behind some pillers walking further into the church and the other people there are walking out the church suddenly there voices ring out

“I ask for wealth” some sang

“I ask for fame” another sang

“I ask for glory to shine on my name” there lines struck something in vil those lines reminded him of his wishes back when he was younger

“I ask for love I can possess” everyone was now singing in front of a stain glass window

“I ask for God and his angels to bless me” they raised there hands in the air vil and the others looked to yuu wondering what her wish was yuu leaned into a wall

“I ask for nothing” yuu said sliding down a bit vil’s eyes widen nothing?

“I can get by” she walked off

“But I know so many less lucky than I” yuu continued to walk around

“Please help my people the poor and downtrod” she walked to a stain glass window and very large round one

“I thought we all were the children of God” she froze looking still

“God help the outcast…children of God~” yuu leans down and hugs jolly she was bathed in the light of the sun and colours of the glass and the scene fades away and there now back vil eyes where wide her voice was so mesmerising and beautiful rook looked at him with a smile so did epel and grim was silent for once vil turned on his heel his hair flipped dramatically and he strode of towards you

He got to your dorm to see you humming away underneath the light of the sun with jolly at your feet you sensed a person there and looked up to be met with the eyes of your one and only partner vil

“Hey…you okay” he smiled at you and without another word scoops you into his arms and kisses your cheek then places his head in the crook of your neck your eyes were wide he’s never done anything like this before jolly looked at you two then with a huff walked out the dorm you giggled and wrap your arms around him

“So where’s the matter?”

—————

Hope you liked this part only 2 left to go

Not proofread

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #epel felmier #rook hunt #vil shoenheit #x reader

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avastrasposts · 3 months

Text

The British Connection - ch. 7

Summary: Grace Mallory makes a reluctant Billy Butcher and The Boys team up with an MI6 operative sent over from London to track down a dangerous supe killing people on both sides of the pond. Billy is being his usual arsehole self but maybe opposites attract?

It's 14 chapters and complete and 'll be posting a new chapter every day

Warnings: canon typical violence, smut, fluff, Butcher being his usual grumpy and unreasonable self, nasty supes, guns etc.

Butcher had left Eve’s flat the previous evening with more questions than answers after seeing the CCTV coverage of the attacks on the two UK politicians. Together they’d rewatched all the footage available, the two original attacks and the two later ones, but no matter how many times they watched it they came to the same conclusion; somehow the supe is controlling his victims with eye contact and potentially physical contact. But neither video gave them any clues to the identity of the supe.

Finally, calling it a night at 2 am, Butcher left Eve’s place to get a few hours of sleep, the only plan they have is to get the CCTV footage from US attacks too and hopefully question the Deputy Secretary of the Department of Treasury, the one remaining person the supe controlled who’s still alive. Hopefully Mallory can provide both.

The next morning Eve headed over to the Flatiron building to meet Butcher and the team again. She hadn’t slept well. A combination of demons crawling around her head when she tried to relax, made sleep difficult. When she got to the office she was grateful for the large coffee MM handed her as she said good morning to them.

Butcher hasn’t turned up yet so she sinks down on the old sofa next to Kimiko when Frenchie offers her the seat.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle Edwards, please, sit,” Frenchie ushers her to the seat next to the Japanese girl and perches himself on an upturned crate next to them with a big smile.

“Monsieur Charcuterie is not ‘ere yet but, mais tu parles français? You speak French, oui?”

“Oui, j'ai appris le français à l'école, we started in Year 1. Marseille, non?

“Oui, oui,” Frenchie replies with a delighted smile, “you heard my accent?”

“Our teacher was from Marseille. But you call Butcher, Monsieur Charcuterie? Not Monsieur Boucher?”

“Why, what’s the difference?” Hughie asks, he’s also got a big coffee in hand.

“Boucher is Butcher,” Frenchie says, “But charcuterie is the preparing of the meat, the cooking of the…charc?” He looks at Eve for the translation.

“The flesh,” she says. “Charcuterie translates into cooked flesh.”

“Oui! And this is what Monsieur Charcuterie does, he does not butcher, he cooks the flesh.”

“Ok, that’s a disturbing notion at 9:15 in the morning, Frenchie,” Hughie wrinkles his nose.

Kimiko taps Eve on the arm and gestures to her notepad, James Bond is MI6?

Eve reads the notes and laughs. “Yes, he’s supposed to be Mi6 but don’t believe Hollywood. I’ve done this job for many years now and not once has that included martinis in a casino,” Eve pulls a face at an unpleasant memory, “Although I did once spend five weeks working in a bar, but that was more Jäger shots and vomit cleanup than cocktails.”

“Sounds better than being covered in blood and gore,” Hughie says, “You don’t want to know what this job can literally throw at you.”

“Last year we crashed a speed boat into a whale,” Frenchie nods, “petite Hughie here ended up inside it with MM and Monsieur Charcuterie.”

“A speed boat into a whale?” Eve says, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Ye, it was fuckin’ diabolical,” Butcher says, pushing the door closed behind himself, “Don’t give away all our secrets now, Frenchie.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how you actually manage to crash into a whale?”

“Easy, you point the front of the boat at the cunt supe standin’ on top of it and give the engine full throttle,” Butcher gives a wicked grin.

“I’ll feel like I should probably sign an NDA to hear the rest of this story,” Eve replies.

“Ye, best not ask too many questions,” Butcher says, “things might get redacted. Which brings me to me first point of order this morning.” Butcher steps up to the sofa and glares down at Eve.

“Who the fuck is the fuckin’ Honourable Genevieve Horatia Daphne Byng Edwards? And who the fuck is your dear old daddy?”

Eve looks up at Butcher for a few seconds. He’s towering over with a nasty look on his face, staring down at her with a sneer. “I’m going to guess you’ve seen my file then?” she says and pushes herself up, forcing Butcher to back up, but still bearing down on her.

“Ye, I had to fuckin’ threaten Mallory but eventually she gave it up. Didn’t seem like she, CIA or the MI6 cunts at Vauxhall were too keen on me finding out who you actually are. Half your bleedin’ file’s been censored. But I did some digging this morning. Your name ain’t exactly run of the mill, darlin’.”

He takes a step closer to her, she can feel the rage coming off him like heat. “Like I told you yesterday, I need all the information. But you and the fuckin’ MI6 is expecting me to risk me bleeding neck for some upperclass cunt like you? For what, a plot at Brookwood?”

“I’ve given you all the information we need for this assignment, Butcher,” Eve says, “Who I am has nothing to do with the job at hand and doesn’t affect my performance in the field.”

“It bloody well does, when the supe’s second victim was your dear old daddy and the girl who did the killin’, was your niece. Are you gonna stand there and tell me that seeing your niece slice her own throat won’t affect your performance in the field?”

Eve has gone pale and she drops her gaze away from Butcher’s. He lowers his voice into a menacing growl, “Your niece didn’t get hit by a bus, she ripped your father’s throat out and then sliced her own neck open with an 8 inch blade, bleeding out on your brother’s patio.”

“Butcher, that’s enough!” MM snaps, looking at Eve. She’s sunk down on the sofa again, her head is in her hands, as if she’s trying to block Butcher’s words.

“No!” Butcher snarls at MM, “She’s withheld crucial information from us while asking us to go after an unknown supe to get her own revenge.”

“Yeah, Butcher, doesn’t that remind you of someone?”

“Fuck off, MM, it ain’t the fuckin’ same!”

“We’ve all got skin in this game, Butcher, it’s what fucking drives us. Yeah, she should’ve told us but that doesn’t make her any worse than you or me or Hughie for that matter.”

“I should’ve told you,” Eve says, her voice low, still cradling her head in her hands, “But I’m trying not to think about it. I’m trying to not think about her,” She looks up at Butcher, her jaw is clenched firm, “I’m trying to be just the soldier, not her aunt. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you really didn’t need to know those details. It was easier to block it when you and Mallory didn’t know.”

“Oh ye, speaking of Mallory,” Butcher growls, “The file she got from Vauxhall is unreadable. Half the fuckin’ file is blacked out and redacted.” Butcher kneels down in front of the sofa so he’s level with Eve’s face and his face has a menacing grin. “I’m gonna need you to tell me exactly what those blacked out parts say. And if I catch you in a fuckin’ lie again, I’m going straight to Vauxhall and I’m telling them all the classified info you so generously shared yesterday.”

“Fuck you, Butcher, “ Eve says through gritted teeth.

Butcher keeps grinning and stands up, “On your feet soldier. Hughie!” He turns to Hughie, “Hook the laptop to the big screen and plug this in, it’s Ms Edwards file, she’s going to walk us through it real nice and slow.”

Hughie sets up the laptop and the file from Mallory’s USB stick appears on the big screen in the office. Eve gets up off the sofa and walks over to the desk while Butcher tabs through the security clearance briefing until he gets to the page with her personal info. He glances over his shoulder as Eve approaches him from behind. “I’m gonna assume you’ve still got that knife up your sleeve, darlin’,” he says. “Just don’t try anything, you only get the drop on me once.”

“Yes, I was just thinking the same, Butcher,” Eve replies with a dark look at him.

“Now, don’t get all vindictive on me, Ms Genevieve, or is it M'lady? I ain’t quite up to date on the correct form of address of the upper classes and all that palaver,” Butcher gives her his best shit eating grin and waves her in front of the big screen. “Let’s begin shall we?”

“Now, all this early bollocks we can skip I’d say, except maybe this bit,” Butcher tabs through the unredacted pages covering the beginning of her career and pauses on a page that’s blacked out. “What’s this? Injured in 2003 and a big gap in your resume all redacted?”

Eve sighs, “That has nothing to do with the present day situation.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, luv, spill it,” Butcher smirks.

“Fine, have it your way,” Eve snaps at Butcher, “In the 90’s my father served as a judge in Northern Ireland, he moved the family over there too. He handled a number of high profile cases, putting several paramilitary leaders in The Maze.”

“The Maze?” MM interrupts.

“A British prison in Northern Ireland, used mainly for paramilitary prisoners during the conflict.” Eve explains. “It was a dangerous assignment, the paramilitary groups hated the occupying British forces and as a judge my father was a prime target for them. But after the Good Friday Agreement, and the ceasefire in -98, things calmed down. I had already moved back to England by then but my parents and my younger brother stayed in Northern Ireland.”

Eve rakes her fingers through her hair, “Dad’s security detail was removed, no more bomb checks or safe houses were needed, the paramilitary groups had given up their weapons and The Maze had been closed. But some people never forgot. And in 2003 a break away paramilitary group broke into my parents home. Dad was away in London on a last minute trip or they would’ve probably only taken him. Instead they took my mother and youngest brother, Edward.”

Eve pauses and takes a deep breath, walking away from the table. “Butcher,” Hughie says, “is this really necessary, how is this relevant?”

“She’ll tell us and then we’ll know if it’s relevant or not,” Butcher barks, “Go on,” he scowls at Eve.

“They couldn’t get hold of my father, so they rang me. Told me that I need to get my father over to Ireland within 48 hours or they’d kill them,” Eve clenches her jaw, “They kneecapped my brother while I was on the phone so that I would hear it.”

Even Butcher winces and MM puts his hand out and squeezes Eve’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, that’s fucked up.”

“Frenchie,” Hughie whispers, “Kneecapped?”

Frenchie motions putting a gun to Hughie’s knee and pulling the trigger.

“It’s always been the paras favourite way of punishing people,” Eve says, turning back to the table.

“I tried going the official way, asking my CO at the time for a team but it was a no go. As far as MI6 was concerned, Northern Ireland and Ireland were off limits. Any operation could potentially derail the peace process. So I went the unofficial route and called in favours. Two of the men I’d served with the previous year came through and we set a trap at the drop off point just across the Irish border. When they came for my father, we wiped them out.”

“How many?” Butcher asks.

“Six hostiles, one civilian and one of ours. Jack didn’t make it, I was injured and Cochran pulled me out. He was one of the two with me,” Eve looks over the rest of the team, “Cochran is my Commanding Officer back in London these days.”

“And your family?” Butcher asks, his voice softer now.

“They weren’t there. I don’t think the paras meant to hand them over at all. Both my mother and brother were found a day later in a ditch outside Crossmaglen. Kneecapped and executed.”

Eve goes silent, and not even Butcher speaks.

Eventually Eve draws a deep breath, as if she’s been biting down on tears, and continues, “I was demoted, almost discharged. Spent the next 18 months in rehab, officially, but unofficially I was out in the cold on desk duty sorting paper clips. I was eventually brought back in because there was suddenly a desperate need for operatives who could speak Arabic and Farsi after the July 7th attacks in 2005.”

MM pushes himself up from the filing cabinet he’s been leaning on, “So, if I’ve got this right, you go off and do your own thing, using MI6 personnel and material I assume, to save your family. One of your men is killed and MI6 finds out about the whole operation and you’re punished, right?”

“Right.”

“But why is that part censored and how’s it connected to the present day?”

“To hide my connection to Viscount Torrington, my father. If you don’t know that our family name is Byng, you won’t make the connection. And if you don’t make the connection you won’t question the decision to have an operative with, as you said, skin in the game.”

She looks over at Butcher, “MI6 doesn’t trust me, they think I’ll treat this as a personal mission again. But Cochran trusts me and the redactions are his way of protecting me.”

“What does MI6 think you’ll do?” he asks.

“Kill the supe. With your help.”

“And what does MI6 want you to do?”

“Capture the supe, bring him back to the UK without letting the CIA get their hands on him.”

“Million dollar question then, luv,” Butcher grins, “What do you wanna you do?”

“Kill him,” Eve says flatly.

“But Cochran is banking on you following MI6 orders?” Butcher crosses his arms and gives Eve a hard look, “You’re gonna betray the trust of the one man at MI6 who’s protecting you? You do that and you’re out of a job, darlin’.”

“She was my niece and she was eight years old. I want to find the man who did that to her and I want him dead,” Eve says with a determined voice, staring at Butcher.

“You better fuckin’ mean that, because when we find this cunt, you’d better not get in my way.”

“Butcher, if I need to, I’m going through you to get him.”

Chapter 8

#billy butcher #billy butcher fanfic #karl urban #karl urban fanfic #the boys

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the-fiction-witch · 7 months

Text

French

Media House Of Anubis

Character Jerome Clarke

Couple Jerome X Reader

Rating Cute

I sighed as I slipped my tie around my neck and flattered my collar down finishing gathering up my homework in my bag as I tied my school tie, "Y/n? you coming were gonna be late!" I yelled as I threw my bag over my shoulder and headed into the entryway,

"Coming!" She called as she scampered down the stairs strands of her hair in between her fingers as she braided her hair, her little red scrunchie around her wrist ready to tie up her braid, her usual uniform of little black shoes, grey socks, a grey skirt, white shirt, grey jumper and school tie all perfect for the day ahead with her satchel bag over her shoulder, I looked her up and down as she came down. "How do I look?"

"You look fine, as usual." I playfully rolled my eyes, "Come on let's go already,"

We headed out of Anubis house and began to walk towards the main school building,

"French class first period," She smiled as she added her scrunchie and tossed her braid over her shoulder,

I nodded, "God, I hate french."

"The class? or the Launague?"

"Both."

She giggled, "I like it, I think it sounds romantic."

"Romantic,"

"I think so, learning french means I don't have to wait for the English dubs of miraculous ladybug episodes,

"Of course, that's why you like it," I laughed, "I just find it boring, and annoying to learn, and I keep getting low grades on the speaking tests."

"Becuase you don't don't add accents, Jerome,"

"yeah cause I sound stupid," I answered, "hello oui french baguette," I said doing the most dramatic accent I could,

She giggled as we walked, "oui monsieur, une baguette française serait fantastique, nous en aurons une en route vers le Louvre" she teased, (yes sir, a French baguette would be fantastic, we will have one on the way to the Louvre)

"oh je pense que oui, ça a l'air charmant," I joked matching her tone, (oh I think so, it looks lovely,) "on peut y prendre une baguette et un verre de vin rouge aussi" (you can have a baguette and a glass of red wine there too) I told her with an even more intense accent,

she Giggled a little "le vin serait délicieux, alors nous pourrons avoir de doux baisers" (the wine would be delicious, then we can have sweet kisses)

I laughed and decide to play along with her, "oh oui, je pense que ça sonne bien!" (oh yes, I think it sounds good!), I smiled at her, "des petits bisous pour moi ? bien sûr nous marcherons jusqu'au lourve, partagerons ensemble une baguette et un verre de vin puis partagerons un tas de doux baisers," (little kisses for me? of course we will walk to the lourve, share a baguette and a glass of wine together then share a bunch of sweet kisses,) I smiled, "ce serait très romantique" (that would be very romantic)

"romantique?" She smiled, "awww your sweet Jerome,"

I tried to hide my blush, "Hey!" I complained I gave her shoulder a little shove with my own, "I'm not sweet,"

"Awww yes you are Jerome," She smiled "As sweet as a macaron and hot chocolate under the Eiffel Tower," She giggled

"Stop!" I complained trying to hide as my face went red, "I'm not!"

"You are!" she giggled, "You and Alfie always run around with this bad boy prankster thing but when we alone with me," She smiled, "Jerome You're as sweet as strawberries",

"I have to keep up my image!" I whined, "You should be thankful, doesn't every girl want a bad boy?"

She shrugged "J'adore mon joli petit croissant" (I love my cute little croissant)

I almost stopped utterly speechless running it over in my mind if I heard her right, I tried to control my breath, "Y-You do?"

"Mhm," she nodded as she moved to her tiptoes and pressed a little kiss to my nose before heading into the school building,

I did my best to...BREATHE running after her where I found her at her locker sorting her paperwork, for a moment I didn't know what to say, what to do, but I felt like... if I don't make a move now...I never will, god sake I've had three years just do it,"Can I uhh can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, Jerome?"

"...Uhh I uhhh you know how we uhh were gonna be graduating soon?"

"Yes,"

"And uhh they are doing a big prom this year given we are uhh graduating and all... would uhh... would uhh" I began but I abandoned it, "Nevermind."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing, it's stupid don't worry about it,"

"Ohh? Alright, Jerome," She laughs with a shrug shutting her locker and going to head to class but I grab her arm,

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something important?"

"Sure, what is it, Jerome?" she asks holding her French book to her chest,

"....can I... Can I invite you to prom?" I blurted out,

"You want to go to prom with me?"

"Yes." I nodded even if my face was utterly red, "I know its a while away yet but I uhh I wanted to make sure I got chance to ask you well before graduation, It gives us a lot of time to plan, and I didn't want to make you feel like a last resort, you are uhh actually the first and only girl I've asked, or planned on asking, and I felt like if I waited I couldn't get the chance to go with you and... I didn't want to miss my chance and see you get asked by someone else, especially some jerk that might not treat you right," I explained even if I was blushing, stuttering and rambling.

She giggled, "You're sweet Jerome, you wanna go together?"

"Yeah,"

"As friends or... like a date?"

"As, as a date." I nodded

"A date? between us?"

"Yeah, a date."

she giggled and blushed a little fiddling with her books clutched to her chest and kicking her foot a little against the school floor "Je suis flatté, j'adorerais aller au bal de promo avec toi, comme ton rendez-vous romantique Jerome" (I’m flattered, I would love to go to the ball with you, like your date Jerome)

I froze up my heart pounding out of my chest, "You- You'll be my date?"

"I'd love to,"

"It's Official! You'll be my date!"

"It's official,"

I smiled and picked her up in my arms spinning her around as I hugged her tightly, before setting her feet back on the floor, "uhh we should get to French,"

"We should come on then mon joli petit croissant" she giggled (my cute little croissant)

"Coming," I smiled happily heading to the French room with her,

#jeromeclarke #jerome clarke #houseofanubis #house of anubis #sibuna #eugenesimon #eugene simon

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ninadove · 23 hours

Text

🇫🇷 – Mais vous avez dit que vous vous nommiez d’Artagnan.

– Moi ?

– Oui, vous.

– C’est-à-dire que c’est à moi qu’on a dit : « Vous êtes M. d’Artagnan ? » J’ai répondu : « Vous croyez ? » Mes gardes se sont écriés qu’ils en étaient sûrs. Je n’ai pas voulu les contrarier. D’ailleurs je pouvais me tromper.

– Monsieur, vous insultez à la majesté de la justice.

– Aucunement, fit tranquillement Athos.

– Vous êtes M. d’Artagnan.

– Vous voyez bien que vous me le dites encore.

🇬🇧 ‘But you said that your name was d’Artagnan.’

‘Who, I?’

‘Yes, you.’

‘Somebody said to me, ‘You are Monsieur d’Artagnan?’ I answered, ‘You think so?’ My guards exclaimed that they were sure of it. I did not wish to contradict them; besides, I might be deceived.’

‘Monsieur, you insult the majesty of justice.’

‘Not at all,’ said Athos, calmly.

‘You are Monsieur d’Artagnan.’

‘You see, monsieur, that you say it again.’

— Alexandre Dumas père and Auguste Maquet, Les Trois Mousquetaires [Ch. 13]

#I love this book so much #literature #french literature #alexandre dumas père #auguste maquet #les trois mousquetaires #athos #d’artagnan

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nkirukaj · 10 months

Text

I Want You, Simon- Chapter 7

Pairing: Simon Petrikov x Fem! OC

Warnings: None, I think?

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Word Count: 3.4K

Chapter 6

Simon was incredibly nervous about this. There was an awkward silence between him and Samira, they were walking through the Human City side by side, Samira wearing a casual long-sleeved dress with a denim jacket and black booties, and Simon wearing his suit, with a dimmer red tie. He was unsure what to say at this moment, but the silence was piercing him inside. Samira clears her throat.

“I feel kinda underdressed,” she said joking

“What? No, this is my casual suit.” He turned to her and smiles

Samira looks around with an open mouth, in surprise.

“Casual suit. Huh” She closes her mouth in an amused smile

They walk up to a restaurant that reads Le Restaraunte.

“Well, here are.” He walks up and opens the door for her “Ladies first,”

“Oh how genteel” She cuts him a coy look before walking inside and he follows her inside

When they enter the place, they encounter a white woman wearing all black and a paper name tag that says “Hello My Name Is….Katie”

“Table for deux?” She spoke in a very strange French accent, and was unrealistically perky

“Uhh” Simon was unsure how to answer

“Yes,” Samira responded confidently

“Oui oui. Come come” Katie leads them over to an empty table, and the both sit while she hands them menus

“What do you think of the place? Pretty nice right?”

Samira shrugs “It just looks like a restaurant to me,” she chuckles

“Yeah,” he dips his head a bit and begins to play with his spoon

Katie reappears holding a clipboard “Anything to drink?”

“Can we get a moment to look over the menu please?” Samira gives her a pleasant smile

“But of course,” Katie leaves them to themselves

“So,” Simon perke up “Why don’t you um tell me about yourself”

Samira widens her eyes “Oh um, well I-”

“Oh my gosh! Where are my manners? What is your last name? I never even thought to ask before now.”

Samira smiles “Oh how rude and inconsiderate of you,” She teases

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m not usually this ill-mannered”

“I was joking SImon,” she’s still smiling as she speaks

“Oh! Hehe.’ His awkwardness does not fade

Samira claps her hands together “But, my full name is Samira Adebayo.”

“Wow, that’s such a beautiful name” He speaks with full admiration

“Yeah, thanks. Growing up, my parents never missed an opportunity to tell me the sacredness and meaning of our family name. They were always telling me how proud I should be, to be an Adebayo.”

“Were you proud?”

She shrugs “As proud as a teen could be about their parents, I suppose.”

“Well, I for one thinks it’s an amazing name. And I love your dress.”

Samira smiles, and opens her mouth to speak before being cut off by Katie reappearing with two cocktails on a tray.

“Drinks?” She puts the glasses down

“Um we didn’t order drinks.” Samira called after her as she disappeared into the back of the restaurant. “Ohhkay?”

“Maybe she’s new,” Simon brushes it off to get back to their conversation “So, um do you do anything besides singing and being a nerd.”

Samira playfully glares at him “I don’t know, do you do anything other than bothering me at my job?”

Simon pauses before responding “Okay, you got me there; but bothering you is the best part of my day!”

Samira blushes a little and smirks “Aww, I’m the best part of your day?”

He smiles back at her “Yeah! I love coming in and looking for my favorite nerd.”

“I could say that right back at you,” She laughs a small laugh

“Yeah, I guess you could,”

Katie returns with her clipboard once again “And what will we be ordering? Monsieur?” She looks at Simon

He picks up the menu and looks “I suppose I’ll have the fried ravioli- Uh oh” Katie snatches the menu from his hands.

“Mademoiselle?” She turns to Samira

“I guess I can take the pesto-” Katie snatches the menu from her hand “Pasta….”

“Oui oui! I’ll be back” She turns so fast that her ponytail create a small gust of wind

Samira stares after her “That was so weird. And why is she talking in an accent?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s nervous or something?”

“So you fake an accent?”

Simon shrugs “Happens to the best of us,”

Samira raises her eyebrows “You fake an accent when you get nervous?” she asks incredulously

“You don’t know what I do when I’m nervous” He smirks a bit

“I’ll find out,”

“I’ll never tell you my secrets,”

She leans a bit forward “I’m gonna find out all your secrets,” she purses her lips

“I beg to-oh! Our food.”

Katie places plates of food in front of them “Bon appetit!” And walks away from the table

Simon inspects his fried ravioli “Why does this look half eaten?”

“Mine is cold” Samira taps the noodles with the tip of her finger

“What should we do? Should we try to enjoy it anyway?”

Samira looked up, flabbergasted “What?”

“You’re right, you’re right. Do you think we should ask for a manager? See what’s going on?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the better option.”

Samira waves down someone important looking “Hi, are you the manager?”

“Yes,” this man spoke in an American accent

“Amazing! So we are a bit confused,”

“What’s wrong?”

Simon sits up “Um, this girl-lovely girl- she’s been bringing us the wrong food.”

“Well, what did you order?

“Uh, this” Simon points to the plate in front of him

“So what’s the problem?”

“Well this isn’t ours.”

The manager looks confused “But you said that’s what you ordered”

Samira interjects “Well, we ordered these dishes, but they’re half eaten.”

“Why did you eat them if you didn’t like them?”

“We didn’t”

The manager is perplexed “Hmm. And who was your server?”

“Um Katie?”

Manager looks around in confusion “There’s no employee named Katie here,”

Samira’s face turns into a smile of disbelief “I’m going to lose my mind.”

Simon jumps in to save this “Oh! She’s right there,” he points at the woman who served them. The manager turns to look.

“Oh my glob. Hey! Get outta here!”

‘Katie’ looks startled and runs out of the restaurant. The manager turns back to Simon and Samira.

“I’m sorry, but she doesn’t work here. She keeps coming in here pretending to be a server and scamming and pick pocketing people.”

Samira rushes to check her pockets “Oh great, my wallet is still here.”

Simon checks his pockets “Oh no.”

“Oh my glob did she rob you? Oh my glob Simon!” Samira is astonished “Oh my glob she robbed my friend!” She turns to the manager

“I’m sorry, but somebody has to pay for this.”

“You can’t be serious, we didn’t eat any of this”

“I’m sorry, but-”

“Um excuse me?” Another waitress wanders up behind the manager and directs her words to Samira “Are you Samira?”

Samira still looks slightly annoyed “Yeah,”

“OH MY GLOB! It’s Samira! You can’t charge them for this!”

“Wait, who is she?” the manager asks

“She’s like a huge pop star!”

Samira mumbles under her breath “Well, I sing other genres, but okay.”

“If you make her pay, I will quit!”

“Alright fine fine! But what about this guy?!” The manager points at Simon, who snaps out of his ‘robbery induced’ trance. He looks at Samira in slight panic

“He’s with me,” She speaks calmly and grabs his hand

The manager rolls his eyes “Alright fine you guys can go.”

Outside the restaurant, once they were far enough Simon turns to Samira.

“I’m so sorry for all of that. That is not how I wanted that to go.”

She laughs “I don’t think anyone plans to be robbed of both food and money. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

He blushes a deep red “Well, I am too,” but he puts on a smile. “I didn’t know what we were going to do if he had made us pay.” He rubs the back of his neck

“I would’ve paid,” Samira looks up at him

“Oh no no no! I wouldn’t want you to pay. It’s not proper!”

She stops walking and stares at him with an eyebrow raised “Simon, you just got your entire wallet stolen. You had nothing to pay with. Were you really going to let us sit there when I could just pay?”

He rubs his neck a bit more and looks around in embarrassment “Well…”

“Simon,” He looks back down at her “I know you’re a 20th century dude, and I’m not sure how you did things back then, but we’re in the future. Don’t let your ‘properness’ lead you to embarrass yourself. If I am capable, I will do it.”

Simon takes in her assertion, this was obviously not what he was used to, but if this was what she wanted, he was willing to get used to it.

“Well, okay. I guess I should get to replacing the stuff in my wallet…like my money.”

Samira knew this was serious, but she couldn’t help but laugh. This entire situation was so ridiculous that it just felt so comical. They kept walking and came up to a store that sold sandwiches.

“Hey,” She placed her hand on his arm “We didn’t actually get to eat. Want a sandwich? My treat obvi”

Simon stopped himself from instinctively saying ‘No’, and thought about what she’d said earlier.

“Yes.”

As they walked after getting their sandwiches, they kept walking. The sun had gone down slightly from the time they had come out in the early afternoon, and the wind was blowing a lot stronger.

“Thank you…for the sandwich.” Simon held up the bag his sandwich was in. Samira just nodded in response, slightly shivering. Simon glanced back down at her after noticing. “Wait, where are my manners? Are you cold?”

Samira waves it off “A little bit, but it’s fine. I can make it home, it’s fine.”

“No! Absolutely not!”

“I told you I was underdressed.” She makes a joke out of it

Simon shakes his head and in one motion removes his blazer and puts it around Samira’s shoulders.

“Is that better?” He asks while close to her face as he adjusts it so it wouldn’t come off

Samira’s face turns slightly red, half from the cold, half from Simon’s breath on her face.

“I guess…” She looks a little bit away

“You’re not rejecting my ‘properness’ now,” His voice was deeper, smoother and more playful when he said this, and Samira had to turn her head to stop herself from turning even more red.

Simon stands up straight and clears this throat “Would you like me to walk you home?”

Samira turns back “Yes. I would like that.” She reaches for his hand, and he is shocked, but after a second of thought, takes it.

Reaching Samira’s house wasn’t a very long walk. In fact it was quite pleasant. It felt like it was over as soon as it began. Simon somewhat wished it would be longer.

“So what exactly is it about the second phone number you gave me? Because that isn’t the number I’ve been texting.”

“So I have two phones. I don’t want Jimmy or Turtle Princess calling me when I’m trying to have fun, so I give them another number. That’s the number I gave you before you realized that me and ‘Sami’ are the same. The one I wrote on your arm is my personal number. That’s the number Marcy and Bonnie would text me on.”

“So I’ve earned your ‘personal’ number?”

Samira nods “Yes. Exactly.”

“Speaking of Sami…can I still call you that?”

She smiles up at him “Yeah, of course. No one else in Ooo does. Honestly, I just find it so funny that you didn’t realize I’m the same person.”

Simon rolls his eyes “Okay ha ha. Let’s all laugh at Simon.”

“No listen,” she stops walking, turns to him and squeezes his hand “I find it funny, but I like the fact that you liked both.”

He stops walking as well and runs his hands through his hair “Well, of course. I didn’t really know much about your Samira persona other than the fact that she’s beautiful and can sing beautifully as well. But I loved ‘Sami’s’ company. I thought she was intelligent, and insightful and imaginative-”

“What’s with all the ‘i’ words?” Samira joked

Simon chuckles “You know what I’m saying,” Samira laughs with him “I don’t know I just thought ‘Sami’ was amazing to talk to. And now I know….that you’re all of that.”

Samira tries to hide back her smile, but she can’t hide the red in her cheeks.

“Um. This is me.” She gestures towards a little cottage style house tucked into a corner of the city.

“This is your house?” She nods in response “Wow, you’re straight out of a fairy tale”

She turns to look back at him “How so?” The wind slightly blew her long and very curly hair back from her face as she stared up at him, making her look more majestic.

“You’re a kind and beautiful woman living in a cottage by yourself” when he looked down at her his next words felt more and more true “You’re basically…a princess.”

Samira smiles, as if she knew he meant well “Oh Simon, I’m a queen.” she releases his hand in what felt like dramatic slow motion as she walked up to her porch and he watched her from where he stood.

Once she got to her door she looked over her shoulder “Did you want to come in or no?”

Simon rubbed the back of his head “Actually I should get going. Goodnight.” He turned and began to walk away.

“Oh alright. Goodnight.” Samira then realized what was around her shoulders “Oh Simon!” He turned back to her “Your jacket!”

“Keep it!” He shouted back, waved and kept walking

Samira smiled and waved back even though he did not see, before walking into her house.

Later that night, while Samira was in her pajamas, she got a text on her ‘personal’ phone.

Hello again. It’s me. Simon

Samira laughs at his insistence on being proper.

Hi 🙂

So I was thinking about it. Maybe we could try this again? With something even more casual?

Okay? What do you have in mind? 😏

Maybe we could spend time together at my house? If you’re okay with that

Yeah absolutely! 😁

Great! :D Next week? Tuesday maybe? After you get of work?

See you then 😉

See you :)

So he did want to see her again. She held the phone to her chest, feeling like a young school girl, when the phone went off again.

Oh! Also, wear your glasses ;)

Samira was taken aback by his forwardness, but she definitely didn’t mind it.

The day of, Samira decided on wearing a v-neck and some baggy jeans with boots, since he said he wanted it to be casual. Some small earrings and a necklace, and a little bracelet. And of course a Strawberry Poundcake fragrance. She thought that maybe some light foundation, concealer and bit of eyeliner and mascara. Casual. She decided she should walk to Simon’s house to get in some of the cool air. She was cold the last time they’d hung out, but she would not let that happen again. She grabbed the jacket Simon had given her anf threw it on herself. It slid on with ease and it sat on her with obvious space, but in a cute way. She stared at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath. When she inhaled, she caught a whiff of the peach scent that she often recognized on him. She stopped for a moment before deeply sniffing the jacket around her arms. She wasn’t sure how long she had been sniffing before her main phone began to ring, starling her out of her zoning out.

“Hello?” She answered

“Hey, I’m just calling to see if you’re still coming over?” Simon’s voice rang over the phone

“Yes,” She grabs a little bag “I’m still coming. Don’t…put on your pajamas” What?

“I’m not, I just wanted to make sure.” She could hear him smiling through his phone “Okay well, glad to hear. See you soon.”

“See you,” she responds before ending the call. She slips on her large glasses

Samira was certainly ready for the walk there. And she was certainly ready to see him again.

She stopped in front of a tall brown building that matched the address that he gave her.

What floor?

4 :)

She makes her way up to the 4th floor, taking the stairs to feel more athletic, which proved to be a bit of a mistake, as she was out of breath when she got to the top. She took some time to catch her breath before texting one more time.

Letter?

She would catch her breath a bit more before knocking, she didn’t want to seem out of shape. She stopped in front of the door to breathe, but before she inhaled, she heard movement on the other side. Simon bustling about, trying to make things perfect.

“Oh where did I put that thing? Oh I can’t even remember what it’s called! This is a disaster!”

And then she decided that what she needed to do at this moment was not to pretend to be perfect, what she needed to do was be real.

Samira knocks on the door. Simon opens the door.

“Hello,” he says, sounding a bit out of breath himself

“Hi,” She says with a smile

“You’re actually wearing your glasses” He smiles at her

“Um yeah,”

“You look great.” He stares at her a bit before realizing “Come inside,”

Simon leads her into the apartment and closes the door. She takes some time to survey the apartment, and it felt very bare. As if Simon hadn’t had the time to make it his own. When she turned around to make a comment, he was gone. She heard bustling in what she assumed was his kitchen. He comes back out with a charcuterie board and places it on his coffee table. He stares at it for a moment before looking back up at her and gesturing towards the couch.

“Um, take a seat. If you’d like.” He turns back to the kitchen, then turns back towards her “Um, may I take your jacket…um my jacket?” He smiles, a bit confused

“Sure,” She smiles back “But that baby’s coming home with me” she laughs and so does he, before rushing back into the kitchen

Samira sits down on his couch and is unsure what to do with herself in the moment. She played with her finger and hands, shook her legs, and fixated on strands of hair left out of her ponytail. But she had to come to terms with the fact that she was bored. She came to spend time with Simon, and yet he was too busy in the kitchen.

“Do you want some water, or tea, coffee, orange juice?”

She exhaled through her mouth “Simon!”

He comes out into the living room “Yes?”

She goes over to him and grabs his arms “I would like you to sit with me,”

“Oh,”

She leads him over to his own couch and lightly pushes him down.

“Relax, I came to see you.” She glances toward the coffee table “Ooooh tomatoes,” she leans forward and grabs a piece and eats one. “Let’s watch tv.” she says while chewing the raw piece of tomato.

“Okay,”

Samira reaches for the remote and turns the tv on. The theme for ‘Cheers’ plays, and Simon looks disgusted.

Samira looks toward him and almost laugh “What’s wrong with you?”

“I hate this show,” he scoffs

“I like this show,” Samira swallows the tomato piece and smiles at him, knowing good and well that she had never seen it before. She just liked the theme song, and wanted to see what it was about.

Samira stared at the screen and Simon tried not to, but eventually he gave in and began to stare at the screen as well. He hadn’t actually watched this show in a while, mostly just had it on the the background when he still worked at the museum.

As they were watching, Samira’s pinky sneakily made its way over to Simon’s, landing on top of it. Simon is quite aware of it as if it sent a shock through his body. He looked down at their touching fingers and didn’t mind it at all. Kind of liked it actually. No, he liked it. No ‘kind of’ necessary.

Chapter 8

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microcosme11 · 2 years

Text

Massena dishes to an English aristocrat

Elizabeth, Duchess of Devonshire, to [her son] Augustus Foster. Marseilles, December 30, 1814

Massena lives in the same street with us; he is full of attention to us, and, though broken in health and spirits, animates on topics which interest him. I heard that he would not talk about Bonaparte, and I was fearful, though very anxious, to name the subject. Last night we went to the prefect's, who has a fine house, and gave a very pretty ball. Massena sat between Lady Bessborough and me; he said something about Grassini. “Oh,” I said, too happy to find an occasion, “Etoit ce quand Bonaparte fut si amoureux d'elle?” “Bonaparte,” his eye assuming a stern expression, “ Bonaparte n'a jamais aimé personne, personne." I then went on from one thing to another, I found I could do so, and it was very interesting. “Quelle impression, Monsieur le Marechale, vous fit il, quand vous le connûtes premièrement?” “Un grand orgueil, Madame la Duchesse. Je l'ai connu qu'il n'étoit que Lieutenant colonel—des moyens, et pour cela de grand moyens, surtout dans la prosperité; dans l'adversité il manquoit de tête, il n'avoit rien de grand.” Of himself he said, “il m'aimoit ou en faisoit semblant, car jamais il n'a rien aimé que son ambition; il me tutoya c'étoit a Milan quand il commandoit en chef qu'il me dit, Massena ne voudroit tu être un des directeurs?' 'Non, je lui répondit, je ne me connais pas en politique, je ne sais faire que la guerre mais toi ne voudrais tu pas en être?' II me repondit 'avec quatre imbeciles, non, moi seul, oui'." He continued, "C'est lui qui m'a baptise enfant de la victoire—et bien, avec cela je fis une chute qui m'empechoit d'etre avec l'armée; il vint quatre fois la nuit me voir." "Mais cela," I said, "marquoit quelque sensibilité ." "II avoit besoin de moi. Je fis une maladie apres, non seulement il ne vint pas; il n'envoya pas même savoir de mes nouvelles." Many other things he told us, and we talked about, and it was very interesting. I'm afraid he don't live as he ought to do, but to us, &c, &c

---

Massena sat between Lady Bessborough and me; he said something about Grassini [Italian singer, Napoleon’s mistress]. “Oh,” I said, too happy to find an occasion, “Was it when Bonaparte was so in love with her?” “Bonaparte,” his eye assuming a stern expression, “Bonaparte never loved anyone, anyone.” I then went on from one thing to another, I found I could do so, and it was very interesting. “What impression, Monsieur le Marechal, did he make when you first met him?” "Great pride, Madame la Duchess. I knew him when he was only Lieutenant Colonel—he had means [intelligence, ability, etc], and for that, great means, especially in prosperity; in adversity he lost his head, then he had nothing great.” Of himself he said, "He loved me, or seemed to, because he never loved anything but his ambition; he tutoyer’d me in Milan when he was in command. He asked me, Massena, wouldn't you want to be one of the directors?' 'No, I answered him, I don't know politics, I only know how to make war; would you want to be one?' He replied, 'With four fools, no. I, alone, yes'. [Massena] continued, "It was he who baptized me child of victory—well, with that I took a fall that prevented me from being with the army; he came four times a night to see me." "But that," I said, "showed some sensitivity." "He needed me. I fell ill afterwards, not only did he not come; he did not even send to hear from me."

The Two Duchesses, Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, Elizabeth, Duchess of Devonshire.

hathitrust

#Massena really frosted by Napoleon's neglect when he was sick #letters of English aristocrats in France #Massena

55 notes · View notes

harunayuuka2060 · 1 year

Text

Grandma MC: Please excuse my grandchildren. They are only worried. *chuckles*

Eirian: *smiles softly at her* It's fine with me. Don't worry.

Ace and Deuce: Tch.

Malleus: I don't like this man. This date is over.

Vil: We're going to end it if he does something inappropriate. For now, let's observe.

Rook: Oui! Let's give Monsieur a chance.

Ruggie: I don't understand why Grim gets to be with Granny though. What's he gonna do there? Annoy her suitor?

Ace: Huh? That's why he's there? Dude, the guy already won him over!

*Grim eating the snacks brought by Eirian*

Leona: Is there any surprise to that?

Grandma MC: Anyway, I think we should need to start this conversation. *smiles at him*

Eirian: Yes. As you are already aware of, I'm here to win your heart and with your permission, to be my wife.

Grandma MC: How sweet of you and you seem to be a kind gentleman. However, why would you be interested to an old woman like me?

Grandma MC: I'm sure you have a lot of women chasing after you. *chuckles*

Eirian: Indeed there are. Though I am not and will never be interested to any of them except you.

Eirian: You have captured my heart, my lady. And my feelings have never changed even after fifty years have passed.

Ruggie: Fif—

Ruggie and Ace: FIFTY YEARS?!!

Vil, Rook, and Riddle: *who already knew about the details so they were not shocked but were amused to see others' reaction*

Malleus: *dumbfounded*

Leona: Damn. That was such a long time ago.

Grandma MC: Oh dear... Why would you wait that long?

Azul: *nods* Yeah. I agree. That is a no-brainer.

Kalim: Come on! It's true love!

Jamil: Kalim, can you imagine Granny getting married to a young man who looks like our age? It doesn't matter if he's old, he still looks young.

Kalim: But... Can't he make her younger?

Jamil and Azul: ...

Azul: With all due respect, shut your mouth.

Kalim: Eh?

Jamil: If someone hears you— *sigh*— Just don't speak for the time being, Kalim.

Eirian: I can wait for you even for a thousand years— No. An eternity. The only reason I didn't pursue was because you were married.

Grandma MC: ...

Grandma MC: But I don't remember ever meeting you.

Grandma MC: To be honest, I thought it was my first time arriving here in Twisted Wonderland.

Eirian: *sad frowns* It seems your memories had been erased. Though I can assure you that we had met. I have evidences and the fact that you used to call me 'Rian'.

Grandma MC: My... Well, it does suit you. I'm glad I had given you a beautiful nickname. *chuckles*

Eirian: *blushes*

Ace: *yells* GRANNY!!!! YOU'RE MAKING HIM FALL IN LOVE!

Ace: STOP BEING NICE!

Vil: *kicks him* Who gave you the permission to yell at Granny?

Epel: Yeah! Yell at the guy! Not her!

Rook: Himeringo, that isn't good too.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: I'm ending this date now.

Riddle and Vil: Not yet!

Leona: So who are we really watching over here? You're all a mess.

Eirian and Grandma MC: *have talked for a few hours; mostly Granny listening to him of how they had met*

Eirian: It remained a mystery to me how you had arrived to the underworld and how it became possible for you to befriend the creatures living there.

Eirian: Normally, a human would run away in fear, but you... *smiling* You had held them in your arms like they were adorable and tiny.

Grandma MC: Well, they do sound adorable so I do not see the problem. *chuckles softly*

Eirian: ...

Eirian: *pulls out something from his pocket*

*It was the Sundrop Flower*

Eirian: My lady, I have a present for you.

Grandma MC: What a lovely flower...

Eirian: This flower can bring back your youth.

Eirian: *smiles reassuringly* Don't worry. I won't be asking you to answer me now.

Eirian: I'm giving this to you so you will be able to travel some places here in Twisted Wonderland.

Grandma MC: Why, how kind of you. I shall treasure this gift. *smiles*

Eirian: ...

Eirian: *hugs her*

Epel, Ace, Ruggie, and Deuce: GET YOUR HANDS OFF GRANNY!!!!

Malleus: *ready to cause havoc*

Grandma MC: *chuckles* You must leave now. My grandchildren are angry.

Eirian: I'll see you again.

Riddle: You all are embarrassing.

Leona: Except me. I was totally cool back there.

Vil: What is that flower, Granny?

Grandma MC: Oh, it is a gift from Rian. *smiles*

Idia: Isn't that the Sundrop Flower? Rumored to bring back youth?

Kalim: Bring back youth?

Idia: Yes. But they disappeared from existence years ago.

Azul: Does that mean...

The boys: ...

The boys: USE IT, GRANNY! WE WANT TO SEE!

Grim: Mryah! What's with you all?!

#twisted wonderland #twst grandma mc #twst oc eirian #twst nrc boys

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haryuwu · 1 year

Text

🪞 Twisted Wonderland | Le Mirage

Author's Note: After updating chapter 2, I feel a bit more confident to share the next ones! Also, thank you for those who reblog them! I really appreciate that! ToT

"Aah! Merveilleux..! You've done a splendid turn, monsieur Crabapple!" An exclamation of praise showered the purple boy named Epel Felmier who has been rehearsing at the ballroom with Rook Hunt, the vice housewarden of the dorm. His groans and pants were echoing within the room along with Rook's loud applause.

"Will…this be fine…?" Wiping off his sweat with the towel Rook provided, he asks for his opinion about his performance. He was unsure if his skill is really improving or lacking during his vigorous training…Or was it Rook’s infinite positive comments that has led him nowhere?

"Oui! I am certain that Roi du Poison, even Mademoiselle Mirage, would be delighted to see your parfaite danse! Truly magnifique!"

"Uh…thanks," Receiving compliments from Rook, Epel felt much more confident to perform for the Saintess within the house of Pomefiore. Who wouldn't want to witness her being pleased about their act of service? To serve the Saintess for her second debut celebration would be such an honor for everyone. Just seeing her presence would be a huge blessing. But something has been itching him to speak about it.

"May I ask you something, Rook?"

“Of course, mon ami! Tell me, what has been concerning you?” typical of Rook, he openly accepts any inquiries that he thinks would be advantageous for his data gathering. As a hunter himself, something like this is natural especially when an individual is more curious of what has been going inside his head.

Unfortunately, he could not answer anything personal as he does not like anyone prying in his privacy. But answering Epel’s question won’t be a problem due to his hunch that his concern is not entirely about him.

“Well, I’ve been rehearsing this dance for the Saintess but…weren’t we told earlier by the Prefect and Grim that the ball won’t be adding any performances anymore?” Silence between the two suddenly grew, but the smile on Rook’s face did not fade. He may be looking unbothered by the notice the prefect of Ramshackle dorm has delivered, but it has been leaving Epel an awkward feeling to continue the rehearsal.

“Indeed, you’re right about that,” Rook finally uttered with his smile still unwavering. Epel on the other hand is beginning to think if Rook’s feeling rather upset about this news. He could only stare at his complexion that seems to be looking stable.

"But do not fret, this performance of ours is not all for naught! It would be such a shame not to share the beauty of arts we've been eagerly honing."

"So I have come to a conclusion! Once Mademoiselle Mirage sets foot into our dorm's lounge, we shall perform this dance without having to stand nor be in contact with her then everything will be swell!"

"So we have to let her be our audience while we perform? I see now, that's a great idea!" Epel got rid of his assumptions of Rook being upset about the changes of plans as he knew from him that hunters do encounter unexpected changes when they are out for a hunt.

Rook did mention this earlier before he ended his rehearsal for today. Although he still finds his hunter analogies unsettling at some point.

"I am glad we have come to an agreement, Monsieur Pomette! Now let's make haste and waltz out of the ballroom. We might as well greet Roi du Poison on our way to the lounge," after cleaning up the ballroom, the two left the room before heading for a bath. It was an exhausting day but their preparation for the event has yet to be finalized.

Rook and Epel soon stopped on their tracks when they saw Vil Shoenheit, the housewarden of Pomefiore dorm, walking down the hallway. Rook immediately noticed that their housewarden was looking troubled, so he called his name out of pure concern. "Roi du Poison, your brows are getting too close to each other. That wouldn't be good for your beautiful complexion! Is something troubling you on this wonderful day?"

Vil could only heave out a sigh before explaining his worry. "Ah, Rook. Epel as well…Yes, something has been pestering me the whole day and I couldn't get rid of it from my thoughts," he shook his head with arms crossed. He seemed even more restless after sharing it to the two.

"Another shocking news came to me and I had no choice but to show my face in front of the Mirages. I had no idea it was that lady in their family."

"Are you talking about the Saintess?" Epel took the chance to ask as he was curious about what the Saintess is like. Just knowing about their history is already overwhelming, but knowing who the Saintess is was undeniably a mystery for everyone.

"Well, Roi du Poison resides in the same homeland as the Saintess," Rook answered. He, too, was so interested in the existence of the Saintess that he couldn't contain his boiling exhilaration. "Alas, I wasn't able to know more about her. Not even her physical features, her routines, her preferences, none.

"She was pretty well hidden from the eyes of the public…" There was a glimmer in his eyes. No one could barely point out how this truly intrigues him due to his behavior that causes them great anxiety whenever they are pursued by him.

"Even a skilled hunter like you is having trouble knowing anything about her, huh…But what exactly is the problem here?" Rook and Vil glanced at each other, unable where they had to begin the story. It's not an entirely heavy subject to be discussed, but knowing the two for quite a long time now it is best to share this hidden experience that occurred to Vil years ago. Of course, even Rook has no idea about this happening.

"I have been a bit too reserved about my past, but I guess it wouldn't hurt telling the two of you. Just know that this also shouldn't be discussed nor gossiped about. I wouldn’t tolerate any of this being talked about throughout the event," Rook and Epel agreed on this condition before falling silent to let him tell about his past experiences with the Mirage family.

"Our families have been well acquainted for decades until I was born. As you two already know, the Mirage family has never left their spot as one of the powerful families of mages. They served the royalties and even gained the title as their royal aide."

"The reason why our families' relationship has become sour was because of me breaking our engagement when we're little."

"Engagement…You mean you were her ex-fiancé?!" Epel was stunned about this story they never knew about. He was immediately shushed by Vil whose brows furrowed about how much of a loud mouth Epel is.

"S-Sorry…"

"I cannot believe it, Roi du Poison! Why haven't you told me about such an important history between the two of you?" Rook, who seemed to be slightly saddened about this hidden information, asked about more about this.

As the vice housewarden and the closest aide of Vil, this is truly an important information for him to be able to help him avoid stress and improve his complexion. Dealing with a bothersome yet inevitable history between the two would completely ruin all of his hard work to look much more presentable in the eyes of the guests.

"I couldn't tell you about this as it is not that big of a deal between our families. But the fact that they'll be our guests in this school, they won't stop sending me these ongoing proposals I have been receiving for the past few days," Recalling the pile of papers on Vil's table has made Rook realize what was going on in an instant.

"Ah! Oui, those are letters on your desks that you've rejected. Most of those letters have the initials of L and M. Were those perhaps the initials of the future young administrator of Beau Company?"

"Correct. And she's the youngest lady of the Mirage family, one of the top influencers known not just me and Neige, the Saintess of the Land of Pyroxene," Faint gasps and shared glances, the two are slowly getting a grasp of the situation. Not only did the young lady of the Mirages become the known Saintess, she has already taken the hearts of other people and inherited the skills to be the next head of their family business as well.

She may have a face that the public has never seen, but she still holds an overwhelming power of influence. A star that shines not too brightly yet has always been known by her name.

Louise von Mirage.

Somewhere in Shaftlands…

"A-Achii…!" A lady covered her face and body with her cloak turned around to sneeze as she felt the wind blow coldly. She then adjusted her hood to properly cover herself from the chilling wind. "Have they noticed that I left the manor early? Well thanks to my mother, I was able to get my probation lifted and leave on my own…"

It took her hours to convince the staff of Hunt family’s villas to get her into the teleporters to travel faster. These teleporters weren't known by just anyone. As one of the known Mages, they’ve used these teleporters with consent from the Hunts despite them being away on journeys all the time.

Although she still doubted that her false reason for the staff to believe would last. So, using this teleporter will be her last one as she does not wish to return home without talking to Vil.

The lady prays that the recent letter she sent to him would arrive safely to his chamber and that he reads all of its contents. She does have a feeling that he ignores it all the time. The magic doesn't wear off from those letters, so perhaps he hasn't burned it into crisps.

"As long as it reaches him, he'll come to me…right?"

The lass' platinum gray hair swayed forward as a gentle wind tempts her to proceed to that direction. It hasn't been that long since she had arrived at the Isle of Sages where the Night Raven College can be seen in the north. But how will she step into their school?

The security has been doubled for some odd reason. She worries if it can detect her presence once she steps in and it will notify the headmage. She'll be discovered even if her presence will be acknowledged by the barrier as soon as they caught her sneaking in as well.

"They'll definitely be suspicious of me since no one has seen my face at all."

Walking past the terrifying looking trees, she began to stride on her way nearby Night Raven College's gates. Once she steps onto the pavement through the gate, there will be no chance for her to turn back.

"You'll be fine, they won't see you as long as you apply cloaking magic on yourself. That's right, you've practiced this before…!" Filling her nervous self some encouragement, she finally entered through the gates of the school after going through a repetitive act of reluctancy. Yet an ache still pangs her heart as she goes further into a place she has yet to be welcomed.

To Be Continued

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#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst rook #twst epel #twst vil #louise von mirage #rook hunt #epel felmier #vil shoenheit #lulu lore #fanfic #twst fan series #le mirage

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theroyalthornoliachronicles · 5 months

Text

L'Étalon d'Émeraude: 23 Mai 1850, 16:40

Comte de Montavin: [Mutters] What on Earth?

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Looks as if you've upset more than just Eleanor-

Comte de Montavin: Ernest. Il suffit.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: I'm merely stating facts, Gaston.

"I know he is here! I demand to see Monseigneur L'Épin!"

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Perhaps you should answer the door, Monseigneur.

Monseigneur Oliver: Entrez!

Steward: [Knocks and Enters] Pardonnez-moi, Monseigneur, a Marquis de Solomont is adamant for an audience with you.

Monseigneur Oliver: [Sighs and sits] Let him through.

Steward: Monsieur. [Closes the Door]

Marquis de Clèrisseau: This should be interesting.

[Door Opens]

Monseigneur Oliver: Rousseau.

Marquis de Solomont: Monseigneur. I will not forgive my forceful entrance. I demand to know why you lied to me of your intentions regarding Mademoiselle Aubert!

Comte de Montavin: [Scoffs] You cannot be serious.

Monseigneur Oliver: I did not lie to you.

Marquis de Solomont: Is that so? Then would you care to explain why you invited her to accompany you to the Prix de Thornolie, thus causing her to subsequently reject my invitation after she had already accepted!

Monseigneur Oliver: Your quarrel is with ma mère, Rousseau. I made no such invitation. It was she who sent the invitation against my wishes.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: I regret to say, he speaks the truth, Pierre.

Marquis de Solomont: And why should I believe you?

Monseigneur Oliver: Because the last person I would ever want to spend my days with is Mademoiselle Aubert. Why else would I have made the effort to introduce her to you?

Comte de Montavin: Listen to him, Rousseau. Neither he nor Mademoiselle Aubert care for one another.

Marquis de Solomont: ....Pardonnez-moi...I can see your words are true...

Monseigneur Oliver: [Sighs] It's quite alright.

Marquis de Solomont: It's only that her rejection to my invitation was so sudden...and I had planned to propose.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: So soon?

Comte de Montavin: Have you not only met her at all public functions? How can one make a decision so quickly?

Marquis de Solomont: Oui....but it all appears hopeless now.

Monseigneur Oliver: Rousseau.

Monseigneur Oliver: Perhaps I can offer you some assistance in order to rectify this situation. Are you interested?

Marquis de Solomont: I'm listening...

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angelofrainfrogs · 3 months

Text

Into the Pit: Ch. 5

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: He should be in the Daycare.

Gregory emerges from the ball pit to find not the bright, rainbow room he’s accustomed to, but a house with a huge backyard and a kiddie pool of plastic “water.” Calling for Gregory is a familiar voice—Michael. Only this time it’s not Charlie or Freddy by his side, but someone completely new. And why do they insist on calling him their son?

Gregory soon comes to realize this existence is vastly different from anything he remembers. Perhaps these last few weeks at the Pizzaplex have all been a dream…?

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Upstairs, Gregory was having a hard time coming to terms with some things.

In the journal kept beneath his bed, something he’d apparently started when he was 8, now going on 13, was a record of his days both good and bad. Gregory was seeing a therapist for his anxiety issues, but nothing ever mentioned the delusions he was having. In fact, as the pages went on, bad days were outnumbered by the good. He’d been here for years—taken from the foster system around 7 years of age, but knowing he was going to be adopted since 6. Some things just made sense, but there was a severe lacking mention of ghosts and virtual serial killers…

When the knocked came to his door, Gregory quickly shut the thick, ink-stained book and looked to Ditty, who scuttled around his desk and inquisitively picked things up to move them about.

“I gotta eat dinner, can you find more stuff while I’m gone?” he asked, unsure if the little guy was even listening before receiving the world’s smallest thumbs up from his new robot companion. “Yeah anything with my name on it—drawings, journals, whatever…”

He’d have to read these more intently later to jog his memory. Going to the door, Gregory turned the knob and threw it open. He was getting pretty peckish at this point. worrying does a number on one’s stomach.

“Doing alright—” he finally answered. “—just going through my journals.”

“Oh, great idea!” Michael praised, his smile more genuine now. “That’s always a good way to jog your memory.” He gestured for Gregory to take the lead towards the stairs. “I made dinner—sorry it’s not going to be as good as when Dad cooks, but I promise it’s edible.”

He chuckled at the self-depreciation, hoping Gregory would get a kick out of the joke, too. The kid looked a bit better than before—not nearly as outwardly stressed. Maybe he was already improving?

Michael could hope.

Following Gregory back down, they found Jeremy had set the table again and was waiting in his chair ready to dole out the sandwiches.

“The guest of honor has arrived!” Michael announced, smirking as he pulled out Gregory’s chair with a little bow. “Your seat, monsieur.”

The double-accent sounded ridiculous, which was exactly Michael’s intent. Anything to make Gregory remember how wonderfully fun this version of his family was.

And it worked; the kid was all smiles now. He just had to pretend like this morning didn’t nearly shock the life out of him. Now it was like a game, one where he had to piece together his life to this point. There was no danger here, Gregory reminded himself. Since being adopted, nothing bad had really even happened to him. Scooting in towards the table, Gregory plopped down into the seat that Michael pulled out for him.

“Oui, oui thank you monsieur.” Gregory played along, making Jeremy laugh as he tossed a few napkins towards his son.

Jeremy placed his plate down, carrying on the joke. “Your sandwich le fromage, monsieur! It’s tres manifique.”

Despite Michael’s normally burned cooking, the sandwiches didn’t look half bad in Jeremy’s opinion—though he’d rather jump off a bridge than refuse to eat his darling husband’s food because of some char. Gregory would giggle at this, watching as Jeremy pulled Michael’s seat out for him.

“Sorry that we had to leave the Pizzaplex early, guys. My nightmare was like… really intense and was inside the mall,” he half-explained.

“No need to apologize,” Michael replied as he took his seat. “We all get a little overwhelmed sometimes. Plus, that place is always insane on Saturdays...” He shared a look with Jeremy, letting Gregory eat a few bites of sandwich before speaking again.

“Hey, Greg—” Michael gave him a smile more curious than anything, though his eyes held deep-seated empathy. “—it’s totally okay if you don’t want to talk about it right now—the last thing we want to do is stress you out more—but… we’re here if you want to share any of your dreams. No matter how bad they are, we’ll listen.”

Gregory’s smile looked strained, though he figured by this point, if none of it was real… It couldn’t hurt to tell them.

“I… had a dream I was kind of like—living at the Pizzaplex? And then things went crazy! So much happened—Charlie was in the Puppet! Like, her ghost. Yours was in Freddy’s,” Gregory began to ramble. He set down his sandwich, choosing to look at the grilled cheese rather than his dads. It helped him get his thoughts in order.

“Pappy was Bonnie. Like—his mind was stuck inside Bonnie. Not quite a ghost, but not… Man, I don’t even know what he really was. But he was using dead kids to try and bring himself back to life? Apparently he’d been doing it for years. Then he injected me with this fizzy purple stuff—it’s supposed to make you immortal or something. He thought I was Evan. Oh—Liz and Evan were dead, and he was trying to bring them back, too. Then we trapped Pappy inside a video game and I smashed it with a hammer…”

Wow, Jeremy thought. Vivid AND concerning. He realized when Gregory picked his dinner up against to take more bites that he was done with the short retelling of his dreams.

“That’s… intense, little man. I’m sorry,” was all he could say, before his brow furrowed in thought. “Wait… Puppet? Like The Puppet? From the original diner way back when?”

Had Gregory ever even seen the Marionette? That old thing had been retired to Charlie and John’s house years ago, a powered down and prized toy that June inherited but rarely played with. When Gregory gave Jeremy a confused nod, his father sat back in his seat to fold his hands together in thought. He silently looked to Michael, wondering if he ever told their kid about the old, out of date security bot.

By this point Mike was leaning forward, hand covering his mouth where it rested on his palm. This dream was far more disturbing than he’d thought it’d be…

To think everyone was dead? And possessing animatronics, to boot? Plus William was apparently a murderer—

“How did you… did Charlie tell you about that?” Michael questioned, a hint of disbelief in his tone, eyes widening at the mention of Puppet. Surely within their whole extended family someone must’ve shown off the run-down bot… but it hadn’t been Michael. He blinked, sitting up and shaking his head.

“Er—you probably don’t remember, sorry. It’s just… I don’t remember ever showing you Puppet.” He gave a nervous laugh, sharing another side-eyed glance with Jeremy. “We thought it might freak you out too much. A lot of kids thought it was unnerving, so…” He gave a weak shrug.

What the hell was going on?

“A-Anyway—” Michael’s lips curved into a light smile. “—I was stuck in Freddy? Hmm… I guess there’s worse robots to be with. I hope we were all nice, at least…?” The faint smile slipped back into a grimace. “Besides Pappy, I suppose…”

“Of course you were nice; you and Charlie protected me! But, Henry—” Gregory placed the last two bites of crust down on the plate to explain. “—he made you guys robots that looked exactly like people! He called them androids. Because… Charlie died on her sixteenth birthday. He made some for her, and then when you died, Mike—er, Dad, he made one for you. Lizzie and Evan have them, too. Charlie helped you guys attach your souls to them; apparently she’s the only one who could move them around. Cas was dead, too…”

Gregory took a break, chewing and swallowing another bite of food.

“…Puppet loved Charlie a lot. She gave really good hugs,” he remembered, missing Mari now; this little girl he made up in her mind that was so excited to talk and tell you about her day… “I don’t know… Maybe June told me about her.” He wasn’t sure how hard he wanted to think about it. Gregory let his crust drop again to his plate as he thought about his apparent grandfather, trying to downplay how his mind painted him. “William wasn’t trying to hurt me—not really. He just wanted me to be alive. I mean, he wanted Evan, but he got really confused. He didn’t care who got hurt to make himself alive either… I mean, he obviously wouldn’t ever do that here.”

“No, of course not—he loves you and wouldn’t hurt anyone like that,” Jeremy reinforced. He didn’t look tense, but he grasped Michael’s hand beneath the table for support. Running his free hand through wavy blonde hair, Jeremy let out a small laugh. “What was I doing? I hope I wasn’t being a jerk to you.”

Gregory’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head. “No… Uh… You weren’t there. Mi—er, Dad didn't mention you either.”

Well… That was better than actively trying to hurt the kid, Jeremy supposed. Still he couldn't help but purse his lips in thought as to why he was just never even mentioned. Nothing at all to indicate he was a part of Gregory’s life?

“Weird…,” Jeremy murmured, lost in thought.

“God… I’m so sorry, Gregory,” Michael murmured, so quiet it was as though he was talking to himself. He returned the hand squeeze under the table, for some reason getting that pit-of-the-stomach feeling that all this was somehow his fault…

But that was just his mind overreacting. No one was responsible for Gregory’s horrible dreams—not even the boy himself.

“Maybe you’ve just been overstimulated lately,” he tried to reason. Applying logic to an illogical situation—it was all he could do until he had a medical opinion tomorrow. “I mean, we’ve been visiting the Pizzaplex a lot… I know it’s fun, but there’s so much stuff going on there. We might wanna cut back a little.”

“Yeah... Yeah that's probably it.” Jeremy agreed for now. Running his thumb along the outside of Michael's hand, he told Gregory: “I scheduled an appointment with Dr. Freeman just in case. Maybe she can help us figure out where to go from there. Until then—” Jeremy cleared his throat before stacking their plates on the table. “—how do you feel about some ice cream?”

Gregory's smile turned up again, now looking back to Jeremy with glee. “I feel pretty strongly about ice cream."

With a more relaxed posture, Jeremy took the plates and lifted Michael's hand to his mouth, placing two kisses on his knuckles. “Ice cream, hon?”

He didn't want to seem like he was ignoring or trying to bury the issues. But there was no sense dwelling on imagined, horrific scenarios if they made Gregory feel bad.

“Sounds great,” Michael readily agreed, eyes crinkling at the sweet gesture. There really wasn’t much use in focusing on something they couldn’t do anything about right now. Sitting back in his chair, Michael set his hands in his lap and tried to relax. Sweet confections always improved any situation, no matter how dire it might seem.

“Let’s see, I think we’ve got… chocolate, right?” Michael asked, tracking Jeremy as he put the plates in the sink and went to the freezer. “I can’t remember what else… cookie dough, maybe?”

"Which one—"

“Chocolate!” Gregory shouted answering Jeremy's question before he could even ask it. Then, Gregory corrected himself. “Wait! Chocolate and cookie dough?”

The smile on Jeremy's face brightened with a laugh. “Sure, kid; Mike?”

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Michael confirmed, jerking his thumb towards Gregory with a grin.

While Gregory stretched his legs, Michael idly watched Jeremy get the ice cream ready. His eyes were on his husband, but his mind wandered to possessed animatronics and purple liquid that made one immortal. Two questions kept popping up in his mind:

How did Gregory know about the Puppet? And why were his eyes now shining silver?

Luckily, before he could get too lost in his thoughts three hearty bowls of ice cream were set on the table. All were piled high with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles. Michael raised his brows at this.

“I didn’t even know we had sprinkles. Did you check the date on them, Jer?” His head tilted in consideration. “Wait… can sprinkles even go bad?”

The question of Gregory’s physical appearance scratched at Jeremy’s mind as well. Somehow, Gregory’s eyes reminded Jer of those old pictures of shell-shocked war veterans. He'd seen the before and after photos of a doe-eyed private that came back from battle with a wide and hollow stare. Gregory’s didn’t meet the same intensity as that, but their paleness was comparable.

A couple of scoops later, and he could pretend to forget about it for now. Michael raised an excellent question about the sprinkles, making Jeremy scratch at the short stubble on his chin.

“Sprinkles are only made of good stuff—they can’t go bad,” he fibbed, inching back towards the kitchen. Gregory raised his spoon impatiently for his mouth, only hesitating when Jeremy called: “But wait just a sec in case I’m wrong!”

There was a short beat. Then his relieved voice finally answered: “They’re good! Enjoy, guys!”

Gregory smiled towards the kitchen spouting a quick, “Thanks!” before stuffing his cheek full of the cold treat. When Gregory glanced up to Michael, they locked gazes. It was clear his Dad was staring at him. The question was exactly what he was looking at—though Gregory had his suspicions.

Blinking to break the connection, Gregory swallowed a spoonful of ice cream and tilted his head. “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing; sorry,” Michael responded, quickly dropping his gaze to the steadily-melting bowl of ice cream.

He took a slow, thoughtful bite, wondering if he should even bother to ask. It seemed like every time they had a semblance of peace a new concern popped up in his mind. Had he always been such a worrywart? Deep down perhaps, especially as he got older… but Michael couldn’t ever remember being this much on edge.

“…Actually, I do have another question for you, Greg,” he said after a moment of silence save for the clinking of spoons against bowls. He was watching his son again, looking for any signs of physical discomfort. “You’re not having any, um… vision problems, are you? You seem alright, I just have to ask because—well.”

With a vague gesture of his spoon, Michael indicated the boy’s startling eyes. Surely he’d caught sight of them in the mirror today… and if not, Mike would feel really bad for pointing them out and adding yet another worry to Gregory’s list.

He knew it was coming; it was only a matter of time before one of them mentioned it. The thought crossed his mind that Gregory, along with these false memories, looked different when he woke up this morning. It was starting to make him feel as if he was still missing the bigger picture. Gregory played with the lumps of cookie dough, mashing them further into heaps of ice cream before answering.

“I can see great,” he replied with a shrug. Not a lie by any means; he could see better than ever. But he knew that wasn’t what Mike was getting at. However, if there was one thing Gregory got very good at over the course of his dream life (so he thought, at least), it was fibbing. “Why?”

Jeremy bit the inside of his lip, unsure how he would breach this topic. To him, they almost looked like cataracts if he squinted. Tinted mirrors with no reflection, swallowing all the light instead of projecting it back—save for a strange, subtle glow from within.

“Your eyes look a little different than they normally do, that’s all.” The way he mentioned it didn’t make Gregory feel odd about the way they looked, putting him at ease. Their son didn’t want to think about why he looked the way he did and just shrugged.

“Maybe it's just the light?” Gregory remarked, experimentally batting his eyes—feeling out whether they still worked properly with the added workload.

“Yeah… I'm sure that's it. Ignore me, kiddo—I’m just turning into a worrywart like Uncle Evan. How’s your ice cream?” Michael flashed him a grin. With this and the slushie, Greg was going to be wired… and then crash equally as hard.

“Famtabstic—” Gregory praised with a mouthful. His tongue darted out to capture a sprinkle from his lip, feeling a little bad for not opening up about what happened in his dream sooner. So he would deflect this with a valid question of his own. Swallowing what was in his mouth, Gregory looked to his Dads and asked: “I have a question, though…”

Jeremy had already made a good dent in his bowl, but saved time to ask his son: “Hm? What’s up?”

Wiping away sticky sugar from the corner of his mouth, Gregory raised a brow. “Why is this cookie dough alright to eat, but regular cookie dough isn’t?”

Jeremy opened his mouth to answer, floundering when nothing actually came to mind. He was going to have to Google this later, but he postulated regardless, turning a suspicious eye to the sugary mounds in his dish. “Maybe it’s counterfeit cookie dough.”

“Oh my god—don’t make it sound like we’re buying black market ice cream!” Michael exclaimed with a laugh, nudging Jeremy’s leg under the table. “It’s safe because the flour and eggs in the dough have been treated to get rid of bacteria and stuff that makes us sick; the homemade kind isn’t put through that process.”

As Michael lifted the final, oversized bite of chocolate sweet to his mouth, he could feel his family’s eyes on him. With the spoon hanging in the air, he lifted an eyebrow. “What? I was raised in a pizzeria chain whose specialty dessert was ice cream. I know waaaay more details about that stuff than I ever wanted to.”

With a shrug, he set the final bite in his mouth and let his spoon clatter onto his plate with a satisfied hum.

Jeremy should’ve expected Michael to know something like that. Both he and Gregory frequently learned a lot of random, usually pizza-related facts from him.

“I wish I knew that! Here I am, thinking we got fake cookie dough,” Jeremy chuckled, locking his ankle around Michael’s. “A lot smarter than my answer anyway…”

"Nah, they pour bleach on them instead,” Gregory said after inhaling his final bite, happy to spew obvious misinformation.

“No! What? They can’t do that. That should be illegal!” Jer snorted, unable to keep a straight face as Gregory nodded his head in the affirmative.

“Nope. It’s all bleach!” Feeling like he was in a much better mood, Gregory decided to take the bowls and spoons from Jeremy’s grasp, much to the man's surprise. “It’s cool;, I’ll go rinse them out.”

“Aww—thank you, sweetheart.” Jeremy was pleasantly touched by the gesture. As Gregory passed the threshold of the kitchen, Jer leaned his head against Michael’s shoulder and contentedly closing his eyes. “What a cool kid, right?”

“The absolute coolest,” Michael confirmed. “I think that really cheered him up. He’s already acting more like himself. Could just be the sugar high, but hey—if that’s what it takes, I’ll add ice cream to his daily routine in a heartbeat.”

Jeremy laughed quietly at this. If that was the case, it might do Gregory some good if they got him a gym membership for Mazercise. Gregory was at that age where he was going to eat his weight in junk food; lord knows Jeremy and Mike were the same way.

“Did you say daily ice cream?” Gregory caught, peeking around the corner with a sly smirk.

“Ice cream maybe daily. Maybe…” Jeremy sat up now, leaning over to gently pinch Gregory’s cheek, then decided to mess with his hair when the kid playfully batted at his teasing hand.

Michael chuckled at the display, tagging in for Jeremy to continue mussing up Gregory’s hair when the other was successfully fought off. The boy was soon released from his fathers’ attack, trying his best to resituate his locks as Michael grinned at him.

“Well, now that we’re all energized and sugar-ified… what do you want to do, Gregory?” he asked, standing up and stretching his arms high to the sky. “Watch some TV, play some video games, go outside for some fresh air… the possibilities are endless.”

There was that normal cheerful demeanor finally breaking through again. The more Gregory felt like himself, the more Michael did, too.

On the defensive, Gregory had lightly swatted the hands away from his hair—no wonder his once poofy mane was flat, with everyone always messing with it. It was a losing battle, as Gregory did find having his hair being played with soothing. He had his family to thank for that discovery.

While he did have all the video games he could possibly play judging by the entertainment cabinet, clear glass stocked to the brim with cartridges, discs, and cases, he had something else in mind. Fresh air would do him good; being all cooped up might be one of the things hurting him rather than helping. Gregory felt like he'd been in hiding for two weeks because of his nightmare. He missed the sunlight...

“Can we go hang outside? It's such a nice day out,” he remarked. It might be a little hot, but it beat the slowly developing hermit qualities he'd notice growing in his mind.

“Outside it is, then!” Jeremy would agree. He loved the outdoors; one of these days he was going to take them all camping again. “What are we going to do when we get there?”

“Uh...” Gregory drew a blank. What do people do together outside?

Then, he thought on it. If they went back to the little make shift ball-pit, was there a chance of jogging his memory?

“We could play in the ball pit!” Gregory suggested.

“Oh yeah!” Michael mused, now leading the way to the back door. He’d almost forgotten about that thing. “Good idea—we spent all that time getting it set up, might as well get some use out of it!”

It’d be therapeutic for all of them, he thought—childish fun without worrying about beating high scores or completing missions. Just a kid and his dads swimming in a plastic pool and having the time of their lives spending time together as a family.

Soon enough Michael was throwing open the back door, releasing his family into the warm afternoon sunlight that lit up the rainbow plastic in a beacon of fun. Gregory ran to the edge of the porch, looking into the wide pit. It was a fun idea; probably less expensive to maintain than a pool, though Gregory didn't think that was why they did it. He probably wanted the convenience of a ball pit without having to go all the way to the Daycare.

It was then that he was picked up, Jeremy having snuck up behind to toss him gently in the pool. Gregory let out a yelp of surprise at this, and as he made his short flight through the air he waited for memories to come to him...

Touchdown! A small splash of plastic orbs rained back over in his parents’ direction. The above ground inflatable pool wobbled with the motions and Gregory moved to “swim” towards the edge.

In a sudden movement, Jeremy whipped around and hugged Michael. It seemed out of nowhere. When Michael finally hugged him back, Jeremy tightened his grip and used his weight to pull them both down together, all in one singular, unspoken motion of betrayal. The sight had Gregory covering his mouth, laughter rolling out of him now.

The memories might not come so easy, Gregory thought. This could take a lot longer than he previously expected. New ones didn't hurt though...

“Unbelievable!” Michael cried as he popped above the surface. “I trusted you, Jeremy Fitzgerald! Don’t run away from me—”

As Jeremy desperately tried to escape his husband’s wrath, Michael picked up a bright red ball and threw it with perfect accuracy. It bounced harmlessly off Jeremy’s back right between the shoulder blades, but the blonde made a show of going down like it’d completely taken him out. Michael laughed at his triumph, then suddenly whirled around and scooped another ball into his hand. With a wicked grin, he tossed it in the air and caught it while eying his son.

“Don’t think you’re getting away, either!” Michael proclaimed, tossing the ball towards Gregory. And with that, the game was on.

They had fallen in with a might splash, only for Jeremy to scramble away at the last second. He fell with a dramatic yell when the plastic ball collided with his spine, face first into the pit once more. He was simply too slow to flee from Michael's wrath. Gregory shrieked, attempting to dunk under the pit, but unfortunately being clocked in the side of the head with the lightweight sphere.

These transgressions wouldn’t stand. And so the family had an all-out war, throwing balls and wrestling in the backyard.

It was what life could be. To some, what it should be…

***

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#fnaf #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's #fnaf sb #gregory #michael afton #jeremy fitzgerald #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #angelofrainfrogs #zeitghest #into the pit #the wires that bind us au #jeremike

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