#i was going to work on it more today but alas between the horse show | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clairecrive · 3 years ago

Note

hiii! um i had a request if that’s alright? umm a darkling x tidemaker!reader where the reader slowly grows more and more jealous of alina until she finally snaps and tries to leave with another tidemaker to train with master tidemakers for the kings army but then darkling stops her. with a happy ending please 🥺🥺

Where your heart is

A/n; this took a life of its own but I'm still not too sure about it even though I had lots of fun writing it. Hope you'll like it, 🌻x

Word count: 2.4K +

Warnings: angst, darklina, jelousy

Tags: @blackst0nes7077 , @thefictionalgemini , @louweasleymalfoy , @jupiterandbutterflies , @for-bebbanburg , @tarkanelima-blog , @pansysgirlfriend , @acciorudolphx , @kaqua , @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @deardiarystuff, @emmaev , @aleksanderwh0r3 , @hazelrose14, @crowssixof , @qhbr2013 , @odetostep , @strawb3rrydr3ss , @lizzie-he4rts , @korol-lantsov , @shadow4ndbone, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @mriddlemethis , @secretsthathauntus , @carnationworld (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

He was her mentor. He was the only one who could help her through the discovery and understanding of her powers. That's why he was spending so much time with her. No other reason.

At least that's what you've been telling yourself over and over in hope that you'd start believing it. So far, you had no success. And this had been going on since the day Alina had arrived at the Little Palace a month ago so you didn't harbour any hopes that it'll start working.

But what could you do?

He was spending every waking moment between his War room and the training grounds with Alina. You could see the allure that she had to have in his eyes.

He had been waiting for her for a long time, after all. You couldn't even be mad at him for investing his energies to help her harness her powers since she was the key to Ravka freedom. And, to be fair, Alina wasn't that bad.

Sure, you had to get through many layers of snarky remarks and dry humour that most of the times felt a lot like rudeness rather than humour. But she wasn't that bad. Not when there were people like Zoya walking around.

But the days without seeing him, with just a passing glance or a touch of his hand on your back were taking their toll on you. You missed him.

You had gone from seeing him every day to not seeing him at all.

You had tried to talk to him about it but he.was.always.busy. Or with Alina. You weren't proud to admit it, and you probably never will out loud, but a certain green monster had taken residence on your shoulders.

You were taking your usual stroll around the gardens when you spotted him outside the Palace's main entrance. Hurrying your steps, you called his name to catch his attention.

"Aleksander!"

Fortunately, he heard you and turned to see who was calling him. There were few people who knew his name and there was no chance in hell it would be Baghra. His lips morphed in a small smile as he watched you approaching with a sprint in your steps.

"Hey, I'm so glad I've caught you, it's been ages since I've-" you stopped when you saw Alina's approaching figure. Your eyes darted from her to Aleksander in front of you and you've finally noticed the two horses.

He wasn't wearing his cloak and of course, where Alina was Aleksander followed. Your lips thinned in a line as you rolled your shoulders back. You knew that Aleksander had noticed your expression change but you hadn't had centuries of practice to scholar your features into betraying nothing. But you forced yourself to at least keep up the appearances with Alina.

You gave her a smile when she stood before you complimenting her hair.

"Genya's handiwork," she simply said as it was enough to explain everything.

"Well, I'm going to leave you to your outing," you said hoping they couldn't notice the strain in your smile. Turning around, you retraced your steps to where you had been standing before and where you should have stayed all this time.

It was clear now- what other signs did he need to give you? Swallowing the lump in your throat, you forced yourself to not let the tears fall. You could feel his eyes on you until the sounds of hooves hitting the gravel told you that they were gone.

However much it hurt you to see again and again the proof that you were losing him, there was still a part of you that told you that this was just a phase. A temporary arrangement, given Aleksander's plans for Ravka. You just had to bite the bullet until it was all over.

And so, with renowned hope, you decided that you were going to talk to him. Even if you had to wait for him for hours or meet him at the brink of dawn, you had to do it. You needed to know where his heart was and from that, you could decide where to go.

However, to your luck, today was the day of the Winter Fete. Everyone, including you, was going to be super busy with finalizing the last minute details and rehearsals. Every Grisha had a role in tonight demonstration even though the star of the whole night was, of course, the Sun Summoner.

Since you were a tidemaker, your manifestation was scheduled before Alina's grand entrance. You and the other tidemakers had prepared a light show, along with Alina, to use water to reflect and amplify Alina's light so as to create a beautiful play of light.

The whole ordeal ended in time for Alina to get back inside the Palace and get on stage and for everyone else to get inside too to witness her exhibition. You followed along with everyone else but alas, you really wished you hadn't.

Aleksander had eyes only for Alina, he never looked away from her even when the light got blinding for everyone else in the room. And you couldn't blame him- Alina was literally glowing. She looked amazing in that black kefta and the symbolism of the colour wasn't lost on you.

You had been a fool, that's what you were. It was painfully obvious how whipped Aleksander was for Alina. Each of those signs was a painful blow to your heart and faith in him. His outings with her, her black kefta, the smile she sent his way and how enthralled he was by her.

Shaking your head, you fought to keep your composure. You had lost him, you realized. You had to accept the fact that it was over. Whatever you had, it had come to an end. The moment it did, was lost on you but you knew it had to coincide with the moment he had met Alina.

As if to confirm your inward musings, Alina and Aleksander walked out of the room, her under his arm.

Well, it was settled then. You couldn't stay here anymore. It was one thing to break up and grow apart but it was a whole other thing to watch him being in love with someone else.

You had to go. That was certain.

Nodding to yourself, you took your final decision just as they walked past you. Aleksander's eyes met yours briefly, just long enough for you to send him a teary glare.

This was the last time you were going to see him and as much as you could feel your heart breaking, you knew that it was something you had to do. They walked out of the room and you wasted no time in leaving as well.

However, before going to your room to pack the few belongings you had, there was somewhere else you needed to go first.

The wind blew harshly on your face, the salt of the sea breeze mixing with that of your tears. Alone on the dock, you allowed yourself to cry. To finally let out everything you had been keeping under lock and key for so very long.

You tried to comfort yourself by reassuring yourself that this was the right choice. The best choice. To stay in a place where you had never truly felt at home, where every nook and cranny reminded you of what you had and what you had lost- of the fact that you hadn't been enough. That your love hadn't been enough for him to stick around, to choose you over a girl he had known for about a day. Everything you had shared, the months spent together in intimacy under his sheets or under the comfort of your favourite tree.

Vanished. Erased. Worthless.

You allowed yourself to feel every ounce of pain his dismissing behaviour had caused you because as soon as you boarded, you were going to leave all of this behind. You were sailing towards your future, towards a new land full of opportunities and new people. Somewhere where you could start fresh.

You heard someone shout the name of the ship you had to be on and knew that the moment had come. Here you were about to step into your new life.

Heaving a sigh, you threw a last look in the Little Palace direction, at what-or rather- who you were leaving behind. Turning around, you gathered your kefta closer to your body to shield you from the harsh weather. As you were about to move, a hand clamping on your back, stopped you.

You winced, not expecting the contact since you thought you were the only one on the dock. Turning around, you were met with a familiar pair of onyx eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, an edge on his voice that you couldn't figure out if it was surprise, betrayal or boredom.

"I could ask you the same thing, General." Taking a step back, his hand fell from your shoulder as you put some distance between you. Standing so close to him just as you were about to bid him goodbye forever felt like a cruel joke on destiny's part.

"So this is what you do? Leave in the middle of the night without telling anyone?"

"Those who needed to be, have been rightly notified of my departure. I don't see how this concerns you, though."

"You don't see-" he huffed out, a humourless laugh leaving him," how, in the name of all saints, don't you see how this concerns me?"

"This is the first time you've spoken to me in months, Aleksander so please spare me this bullshit. I've got it, alright?" Raising your hands you took yet another step away from him. "There's no need for you to be here and pretend anymore. Go back to your party and your Grisha and your girl."

"You're my girl," he stated somehow still calmly.

"No, I'm not," you scoffed, "and you've done a fine job proving that these past few months."

"I know I've been neglecting you, but what's a few months when we have a lifetime together in front of us?" he conceded taking a step towards you as his arms widened as if to show you the length of time you'd be spending together.

"It's everything, Aleks," you snapped as your emotions got the best of you, "seeing you getting cosy with Alina every day realising that the more time passed the less you were mine was excruciating and I'm done. I'm going away and I'm leaving all of this behind."

"You can't go."

"Watch me," you quipped as you turned around. Challenging you was not the best way for him to go about this. He knew better than anyone who proudful you could be.

"You cannot go," he... begged? the tone of his voice was so weird coming from him that had you pivot immediately. "You cannot leave. You cannot leave me."

You stood there, hair blowing everywhere for the harsh wind, just staring at him. You'd never seen him so emotional. Yes, you'd shared some intimate moments but he'd never been quite this open about his feelings. The sight of his teary eyes was so unfamiliar that made your brain short-circuiting.

Taking a shaky breath, Aleksander took a step in your direction, getting closer to you but still not close yet.

"Everything that I've ever done has been for a sole purpose, y/n, you know it. And you have to believe me, Alina plays a role in this as well."

"I know she does, it's obvious to everyone. It just has become painfully obvious to me tonight just how important she's come to mean to you." You shrugged as you looked away. Admitting this while also looking him in the eyes was an impossible feat.

"She may as well be the Sun Summoner, but you're my solnishko, y/n." He murmured softly as he took another step, this time getting close enough to you to reach for your hands.

"Sweet talking isn't going to change anything, Aleksander. I saw how you looked at her, I saw her wearing your colours. Do you take me for a fool?"

"Of course not," he disagreed vehemently, "but it's as I've told you, my dear, please believe me. Every action had its purpose which was not hurting you or expressing my love for Alina." He insisted, his hands squeezing yours. His eyes flickered between you and you spotted hopefulness as well as sincerity in them. Which made you hesitate.

Could it be...?

"But why didn't you tell me so, then? Why cutting me out dry without a word?" you uttered, afraid to believe him, afraid to let your heart hope again.

"It has been a play, solnishko. Ever since Alina has stepped foot inside the Little Palace, all eyes have been on us. I had a part to play and so did she. Unfortunately, I couldn't risk it." He explained, his eyes taking in your features, noting how hesitant you still were.

"I swear, my love, you should hear her. The only thing she can talk about it's her childhood best friend who seems so boring, I can't see what she sees in him." He added smiling hoping to lighten the mood. And as a matter of fact, he was rewarded with your giggles.

"Really?"

"I'd never lie to you," he murmured solemnly, his head tilting down toward yours. You met him halfway, your nose bumping softly with his.

"You better never start, Sasha," you warned lightly as he gave you an Eskimo kiss, his hands reaching up to hold your cheeks.

"Never," he promised on your lips. His trailed over yours softly before tilting his head to the side and letting them finally touch.

It has been so long since you've last shared a kiss that you'd almost forgotten how it felt like. How soft his lips were, how voracious he could be, how he always tasted of something sweet.

You gasped as his tongue trailed over your lower lip giving him the desired opportunity to sneak in and meet your tongue. Moaning, you moved your lips with his, hands sneaking through his hair to hold him close. The kiss came to a stop when you both were out of breath. He didn't get far away though as he rested his forehead on yours.

"The captain is going to be really mad at me." You murmured as you heard another shout coming from the end of the dock.

"Let me deal with him," he reassured you before giving you another small kiss. With that, he stepped away and headed over to where your ship was anchored.

You stood there, your fingers touching your lips, still in trance after what happened. So, you had never lost him. He had always been yours.

The realisation made you smile and as you watched his cape blowing in the wind you felt reassured. You knew he had plans but those were never the problem. You could bear seeing him with Alina if you knew that you were the only one in his heart and bed. And it seemed that you weren't the only one who wanted to keep it this way.

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moonctzeny · 4 years ago

Text

love to hate me

request: celebrity! jaehyun + enemies to lovers + “don’t you want to know how i feel?”

pairing: friends to enemies to lovers! jaehyun x female reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff... this fic has it all folks

word count: 7.514k

warnings: toxic behaviour, public sex, light restraining, jaehyun pulls a ‘white boy punching the wall’ at some point

summary: “You and Jaehyun meet as SM trainees, developing a friendship until he debuts and you deicde to leave the company and pursue a solo career. When you reunite again in a music show and he acts like he barely knows you, you stubbornly begin a series of hate-brimmed sex rendez-vous. Your touch-and-go relationship continues on, until a song collaboration will force you both to deal with all your repressed feelings for each other”

a/n: this is the longest it has ever taken me to finish a fic.. I have a love-hate relationship with this (no pun intended XD). I hope whoever requested this likes it!

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Of-fucking-course you had to bump into him out of all people at the vending machine. All you wanted was a drink to refresh you before you got up on stage, and now you have to deal with Mr. Too Good For This World and his relentless teasing. His eyes, lit up by an amusement that was also evident in his smirk, stayed glued on your body, raking up and down at it for a second too long. Not that you didn’t like it.

“Stare much?”, you bark at him in hopes of snapping him out of his trance, and push through him to punch in the code of your favorite drink. But alas, he always had a comeback ready on the edge of his lips.

“You look ridiculous”, he states and you have to admit that your outfit, though fitting for the Halloween special of today’s music show, was way different than anything else he had ever seen you in. Reincarnated as Dorothy Gale for the night, your stylists had chosen a short, light blue checkered dress, with red stilettos that gave a sexy twist to the character’s ruby slippers. Hair neatly braided in two pigtails, decorated by ribbons and topped off by glittery pink makeup. The image of innocence. Jaehyun had to laugh.

“Says the man dressed up as Woody”

It was unfair, you admitted, how good he looked in that stupid outfit. His hair was gelled back, a few strands framing his handsome face strategically. The yellow shirt fitted him like a glove, its bright colour lighting him up as well. And those jeans, tight in all the right places, just melted over the muscles of his thighs. The ones that you’ve come undone on one too many times.

“So”, he lilts, giving you a once over before lowering both the volume and pitch of his voice, “want a ride?”

You scoff, sparing him an incredulous look, “on what horse, cowboy?”

He doesn’t reply, only points with his eyes to his crotch that is undeniably sporting a visible tent, and you gasp when you see the outline of his dick twitching under your stare.

“Jesus Christ, Jaehyun”, you mutter with a disgusted look on your face before picking up the almost forgotten beverage that the vending machine had barfed out for you. The boy mentioned, however, was unfazed.

“They don’t call me Woody for nothing”

Almost choking at the drink that was supposed to calm you down, you catch his eyes rolling at you through your third cough. Well, that ruins one of your favourite childhood movies. “Don’t pretend to be a prude. Now are we going to fuck before you get on stage of not?”

You can clearly remember the first time you met Jung Jaehyun alone. You always spotted him somewhere in the SM buildings, joking around with his future bandmates, barely ever without company. As a fellow vocal trainee, he introduced himself to you as Yoonoh, filling up the awkward silence while your vocal teacher prepared the music sheets for the both of you to rehearse.

You were thankful the two of you always got paired up together. Jaehyun was charming, easy to be around, funny. He was a model SM trainee with the otherworldly looks he possessed, almost impossible for anyone’s eyes not to follow him when he entered a room. Radiant porcelain skin, soft brown locks, and a dimpled smile that made your heart melt in seconds.

You can also clearly remember the first time you had the privilege of hearing him sing. Jaehyun had a beautiful baritone voice, one that contradicted his flower boy image but matched his manly personality perfectly. The four walls of the small practice room resonated with his sound, that was stable and smooth like honey. The lessons were challenging but Jaehyun made them bearable through spending time with him. Maybe it was your shared struggles, or how you were always tired and vulnerable when you saw him. Maybe it was those damned dimples, but your heart always beat faster when you were around him.

“Sometimes I get discouraged”, he confides in you in that same room, hours later, early into the morning now. The vocal lesson stretched on longer than expected, leaving you two sitting on the floor, sharing a cup of lemon-honey tea to soothe your vocal chords. You let your head rest to the leather couch behind you as you stare into his handsome features one by one. What time was it? Shouldn’t you be back at your dorms by now? It didn’t matter, this was one of those moments when time seems to stop and life seems unreal. When the only thing that you care about is the person standing next to you, and whatever it is they have to tell you.

“I fear that I will never get to debut. There’s handsome guys all over the company. I just don’t know if my skills are enough.”

You thought he was crazy for thinking that way, wanted to scream at him that he’s just perfect and more than enough for the company, or for anything in this world for that matter. But Jaehyun was reserved, the type to always mask his true feelings behind a smile and you were more than glad that he finally opened up to you, that he saw you as someone trustworthy. You didn’t want to dismiss his feelings, so you just pet his hair while you listened to his concerns.

As you mindlessly gaze at the rainy weather outside, a couple of droplets following their own path down the froggy window remind you that time does run by. Even if every day seemed the same, following the same routine, going to the same classes over and over again.

Jaehyun had this sad look that contorted his pretty face and you hated it, reaching up to massage away the wrinkles between his eyebrows. You don’t know which godly creature made the hourglass of time freeze this moment, nor did you know why Jaehyun leaned forward to capture your lips into a kiss. Maybe it was his way of saying thank you for keeping your ears and heart open for him, for listening to him when he needed it most.

It felt so lovely while it lasted, two young people leaning on each other during an uncertainty that anchored them far away from their emotional shoreline. But life as a trainee isn’t a fairytale and falling in love can have serious ramifications. So you promise to each other that this will be a one time thing, and then you never speak of this night ever again.

Unsurprisingly enough, Jaehyun got to successfully debut, yet you didn’t have the same luck. The company had plans of focusing on their new boy group, thus postponing your debut for an uncertain amount of time. It was hard for you to decide to switch labels, to throw away the years of hope and dedication you had pinned on this company but the faith you placed on yourself was stronger.

It’s years later when you finally get to promote as a solo artist in a different company, and you are happy to say that the decision you made all those years ago was the right one. The exposure you got wasn’t the same as being in a Big 3 company, however leaving SM entertainment has its pros. Flexible schedule, less scrutiny, great creative freedom over your work.

This wasn’t the first time you have come across your old trainee buddy. Jaehyun had multiple comebacks in a year, so it was only natural that his group’s and your promotions would sometimes overlap. You were only a rookie, and NCT turned out to become pretty popular, so of course the wins were always tied to their names.

The first time you walked past him in the hallways, dark makeup and professional styling making you both almost unrecognizable, you expected a wave, small talk, maybe some reminiscing of the old times. Instead, you got a cold stare or at best, an arrogant smirk coupled with a “Do better next time”. It was shocking to you how much Yoonoh, the boy with the shy smile and awkward social skills, would turn into such a stranger.

How you always ended up sneaking out with him to have a quickie in one of the ready rooms, was beyond you. He rushed you inside before checking both sides of the hallway, cautious to hide from any curious eyes. The coast was clear and Jaehyun doesn’t like to waste time, so he pins you against the door he just closed behind him, face dipped in your neck. You can feel his fingers dancing on the skin of your thighs, eager to explore what is hidden under your frilly skirt, and their delicacy in contrast to his feverish kisses sends a shiver down your spine.

One pretty whine from your lips, then two, three and you can feel Jaehyun smile deviously against your neck. The softness is too enticing for him to resist, so he nips at it skillfully, trying to get a reaction out of you. He recognizes that you have plenty of talent as a singer, yet the symphonies you sing out for him in those little sessions seem to be his favorite.

“Jaehyun, cut it out. I’m going on stage in like, 20 minutes”

“Turn me on then”

Wasn’t he the one that basically flashed you in the middle of the cafeteria for just existing? Isn’t it his hard on that digs against your lower stomach? The demand made you mad, and you wanted nothing more than to entice him with a nice blowjob, only to take a big, strong bite off that cock of his. But see, you had a full face of makeup on and your career is way more important than a fuckboy, so you’ll have to get creative.

Flipping him around so that he’s the one trapped between you and the door, you start to suck on his collarbones , then nibble at the tender flesh. He seems distracted enough by it so that you open the button of his jeans and fully remove his belt from their loops with no objections. Palming him over his boxers to keep him entranced, you manage to bring his wrists together, wrapping the leather around them, then lastly fastening them in place.

His eyes widen in shock when he realizes that he’s too late, wiggling his hands in a futile attempt to free himself. Your laugh is sadistic, making the hairs on his arms stand on edge and you gloat in the effect you have on him.

Giving your palm a good lick, you form a ring with your fingers, wrapping them around the base of his member. He hisses and drops his head back, thudding loudly against the wall. His cock enlarges and reddens as you move your hand up and down, changing the pressure according to his reactions. Jaehyun isn’t one to express himself freely but there is not much he can do to stop the low moans leaving his lips. Not when you rub circles over his tip with the soft skin of your palm.

He looks so fucking good, all squirmy and desperate and trying to hold himself from saying ‘please’. You almost want to keep going, squeeze him more until he whines and begs to cum, and admire the white beads dripping from his slit and covering your hand. Almost.

You halt your movements with a last strong stroke, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare back at him. Jaehyun tentatively opens one eye to see why you have stopped, only to come across that bratty smile that he loves as much as he hates.

“You should have dressed up as a siren. Seducing people before they realize you are a man eating bitch”

“If you want someone to jerk you off you can go ask one of your little fangirls. I want to get fucked.”

“Let me go then. And you’ll wish you never did”

You scoff at his cockiness, nonchalantly freeing him from his constraints, and the way he immediately has a hold of your jaw reminds you of a predator eyeing its prey. His eyes have a crazy look in them, moving frantically over every part of your body like he can’t decide what to grab onto first. He decides on your hips, bending you over a table full of snacks and makeup tools and flyers of today’s schedule.

“You think it’s funny to tease me like that?”, he asks you with a peremptory voice that signifies you’d better shut up.

You hear shuffling behind you and assume it’s him slipping on a condom, so you make yourself more comfortable on the wooden surface. A hard slap on your ass jolts you alert.

“I asked you a fucking question”, Jaehyun presses brusquely and flips your skirt fully over your ass, pulling your panties down until they’re bunched up right over your knees.

“It’s fun”, you moan out, breathless both from the pleasure and the stinging feeling on your right cheek, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Was the room occupied by one of the artists that have already been on stage? Or will they barge in at any moment to find you bent over and pussy dripping for Jaehyun to finally dive inside you? He chuckled at the sight of you, eyes feasting off your naked body, your ass up just the way he likes it. Not so innocent anymore, huh?

He doesn’t reply to you, aligning himself against your slit and bottoming out in one go instead. Involuntarily, you let out a small screech, the sudden stretch catching you off guard.

“You better stay quiet, siren. Or maybe you would like it if people found us like this? Saw how good you take my cock whenever I ask”

You wanted to bite back at him, but the only sound you could make was a guttural moan. It was embarrassingly loud, and you fall forward to bite your fist and force yourself to shut up. It was effective, yet Jaehyun had other plans for you, pulling your pigtails towards him in a strong grip that has you against his chest in seconds.

“Nuh, uh, uh, siren”, he hums in your ear, his panting making his voice sound huskier and smokier than ever, “How about trying to stay quiet by using your willpower alone? That way it’s more- how did you call it? Fun.”

He slows down his pace momentarily, as if he’s giving you time to answer him. But the moment you open your mouth to talk back at him, he thrusts particularly hard inside you, forcing a whimper out of your lips.

“Fuck you, Jaehyun”

“As you wish”

Jaehyun was conceited and cocky and a dick, but he was also a good fuck. He kept at it with what seemed like all the energy in the world, fucking you against that table until you came all over him, and your legs gave out. It ended how it always did, with him moaning how fucking sexy you look and how much he hates you, and you swallowing your pride as you swallow his cum. You’d tell each other to fuck off and never bother the other again, until you meet up at the next comeback, to do this shit all over again.

And that’s how things would stay if it wasn’t for that goddamn phone call from your manager.

“...so we thought what better way to promote your new song by recording a duet with NCT’s Jaehyun?”

No, no, no this can’t be happening. No way. Anyone but him.

“Are you sure this is the only way we can promote me? Can’t I just go to variety programs like every other idol out there?”

“y/n, duets by different group members are one of the most efficient methods of promoting there is! And with NCT’s latest song topping the charts this will be a great opportunity for you. Taemin and Sunmi did it. Suzy and Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Punch-“

“Alright, okay, I get it”

“Besides, since you used to be an SM trainee they specifically asked for you. The directors made some pretty big compliments on your work”

Isn’t it a little too late now? Not like they didn’t have the chance to debut you, right? That being said, there isn’t much to oppose to decline SM’s offer; your manager is right and you know it. Saying no to Lee Sooman and giving up a popularity push like that is basically career suicide. Nor could you let your manager know about your and Jaehyun’s little adventures, minutes before you have to go on stage.

“Just send me the schedule. I don’t have to record with him, right?”

“Oh no, they’ll record his part first and then they’ll send it to us. But there will be a music video of course”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

There was this little monster of worriedness that was screaming inside your head, refusing to shut up. This collaboration isn’t going to be easy, but you didn’t want to let Jaehyun’s pettiness get in the way of your career. Fumbling with your phone in your hands, you kept removing and reinserting its case compulsively, over and over again, until you mustered the courage to take matters into your own hands.You knew his number was buried somewhere in your contacts.

you [16:35]: hey it’s me, y/n

Jung Yoonoh [16:50]: y/n who??

you [16:55]: y/n y/l/n? the girl whose guts you were inside in last week? we have a song coming up 😒

Jung Yoonoh [16:57]: oh y/n right

Jung Yoonoh [16:58]: thought you’d have deleted my number

Well you sure have deleted mine, you murmur with your blood boiling, regretting reaching out to him in the first place.

you [16:59]: i always hoard peoples contacts

you [17:00]: old habits die hard i guess

Jung Yoonoh [17:00]: like the habit of me being inside your guts?

You gasp out after reading his last message, hands awkwardly juggling your phone until you’ve forced yourself to calm down. After waiting for a while, until your face has reached its previous temperature, you feel focused again, and type out your original intentions for this conversation.

you [17:05]: this isn’t what i texted you about.

you [17:07]: we have this project coming up and while I know we aren’t exactly on the best terms, this comeback is very important for me

you [17:08]: and i don’t want to fuck it up

Jung Yoonoh [17:10]: kitty cat, relax. maybe this is a brand new word for you but i know what professionalism is

you [17:10]: don’t you ever and i mean ever call me that again

you [17:11]: glad to see we are on the same page

You didn’t expect a message back, nor did you get one. All you could do from now on, was pray that the promotions would go smoothly and Jaehyun wouldn’t do anything stupid that would jeopardize your collaboration.

------------------------------------------------------

And the day you dreaded finally came. The first day of filming for the music video.

You had already finished recording the song, a bittersweet balad about two lovers who lost their way, only for their paths to cross again. When you listened to the demo for the first time, it only took three notes from Jaehyun’s pre-recorded verse to spread goosebumps on your skin. His voice was deeper and even more developed than you remember. Long forgotten memories, shoved deep inside your brain so as not to leave a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, came flooding up again. But things have changed since then.

The sky was crying rain and lightning, fitting to the storm inside your head. Normally you'd be excited to film a music video, bubbling with energy and unable to contain a smile. Today, all you could do was let your teeth abuse the cuticles of your left thumb, until little drops of blood ruined the fresh manicure you got for the shoot.

Following your manager inside the studio, you take a quick glance at all the props the creative directors have prepared. They were very intricate, filled with all different types of flowers everywhere. Some of the fake rooms looked like classrooms, two others were decorated like teenage bedrooms. It was a lot more than you have anticipated.

“The song will be part of a drama OST, that’s why the budget is higher than usual”, your manager tells you as if he was reading your mind.

He leads you to the changing room, where you try on different outfits your stylist has chosen for you, while simultaneously being briefed on the concept of the music video. It’s kinda cheesy and cute, with you and Jaehyun posing as high-school students falling in love. Certain scenes of the drama, whose plot matches the music video’s, will intercept in between.

You’re seated on the makeup chair, sunk in the uneasiness caused by your co-star. Jaehyun had arrived a few minutes after you, his bare face more handsome than you’ve ever looked in your most glamorous state and you can’t help but stare at him. He is all polite smiles and bows to the staff, and even gives you a formal greeting.

You’re not sure why you just can’t bring yourself to stop your legs from shaking as the makeup artist patiently tries to apply a rosy blush on your cheekbones. It’s like you’re scared that everyone will see right through the both of you, somehow enter your brain and find out that you’re replaying your last encounter with Jaehyun in the music show’s waiting room in your head. As you try to read through his expression, to see if he’s nearly as nervous as you are, you defeatedly can’t decode what’s going on inside his head. Not like you ever could.

You glance at both you and Jaehyun through the mirror, admiring the youthful makeup. Blushy cheeks and innocent eyes of two teenagers in love, masking the raw lust between two nemesi. It couldn’t stray any further from the truth.

A staff member leads both you and Jaehyun (who is refusing to spare even one look your way) back to the main set. The director is passionately explaining what he wants to see from you in your first scene, but you can barely focus with Jaehyun’s eyes burning holes through your school girl outfit. You block him out and walk inside the ‘classroom’, spotting the cameras and sitting on your designated seat, while you wait for your signal to start.

Of course, you had acted before. Yes, you had expected for the director to ask you for some more intimate moments with your co-star. But when Jaehyun passed you a “love note” from the desk in front of you, looking all blushy and shy and with his dimples showing, you felt that the role of crushing schoolgirl became a little too easy for you to act out.

And maybe, just maybe he was feeling the same way too. He looked pretty flustered when he saw you dancing across class, shifting restlessly in his seat when you bent forward to tie your shoelaces. Whether you did it on purpose or not, was a question your ego didn’t allow you to answer truthfully.

Most of the individual shots would be handled at a different shoot, so all you had to do was get over this one day with him. That’s what you repeated yourself over and over again. And you did pretty well, smiling charmingly at the camera, with the director praising you for your “innocent look”. You didn’t miss the scoff slipping from Jaehyun’s lips but you were good at ignoring it, focusing on getting through the different scenes in one-shot.

You were currently leaning your body against the wall, playing with your hair while Jaehyun glances down at you, like a boy that is ready to confess to his first love.

“y/n, I need you to give me something more shy, more bashful”, the director yells eagerly, but you can barely hear him, too focused on regulating your breathing. The look your co-star is giving you right now might seem loving and pure to the staff, but you know all too well the motives hidden behind his facade. It’s the calm before the storm, the silence he purposefully keeps to make you squirm, right before he whispers the most sinful propositions in your ears.

Reading him like an open book, you stand still as he leans closer, just enough so that no one besides you get to hear his words.

“Come on y/n, can’t you act bashful? Or is it impossible for you to get embarrassed after getting fucked against the window of a TV station’s building?”

Clearing your throat, you’re suddenly hyper aware of every single sound and movement in the room. Suffocating, even in the light clothes you were wearing, and desperately trying to mute out his words that bring you back to the day he was repenting.

“When you were pressed up against that glass, moaning my name, all exposed for anyone that simply looked up to see, you weren’t too shy, were you?”

You raise your palm to wipe a bead of sweat that has collected on your temple, and breathe deeply through your nose, as if a good pump of oxygen would cool off the sudden heat between your legs.

“Shut up Jaehyun”, you simply hiss through your front teeth, but he isn’t done yet.

“You know I can’t hold myself when I see you in skirts. So pretty. And you love to tease me in them too, I’ve noticed. Flashing me again and again until you get to suckle on my dick”

You were sure his voice was barely louder than a whisper, but the thought of anyone accidentally prying into your conversation had your whole body raising in temperature. The heat didn’t take long to reach your cheeks and you couldn’t remember the last time your legs felt like jelly, as they do now.

“Perfect y/n, that’s exactly what I’m looking for!”

You blinked back at Jaehyun a couple times, your mind trying to process that the director is cheering you on instead of scolding you to focus. The trembling hands, the fast-paced heartbeat, your big doe eyes. Though involuntarily, you had nailed the scene.

“You’re welcome”, Jaehyun mouths at you just as the staff announces a break. He scurries off to his dressing room without a word, as if he hadn’t just spewed his dirtiest of thoughts on set. It was almost as if he was daring you to follow him, but it’s not like he had left you a choice. You were fuming.

“Jaehyun”, you called out to him strictly but he didn’t acknowledge you, only walked further inside the small room with his name written neatly on the door. He was removing some of the heavier jewellery, rubbing the red lines they had left on his neck and wrist, momentarily catching your eyes on the mirror's reflection. They were misty, unreadable, and with how unpredictable you knew he could be, you decided to close the door behind you.

“Closing the door?”, he muses and in just a few long strides he has managed to trap you between his body and the wooden surface. It is reminiscent of your last meeting at the music show, and the memory of you tying him up doesn’t help with the organizing of your thoughts. “What are you planning on doing to me in here?”

You point one finger against his chest, not enough to create any real distance between you, but it comforts you nonetheless.

“What the fuck was that out there? What happened to professionalism?”

“Relax, kitty cat. I was just helping you act better”. His eyes stayed glued on your hips, once again making you all wound up and jumpy under his stare, “And it worked. You should be thanking me”

“I. Told. You.”, you started, tapping your finger on his sternum to emphasize each word, “Never call me that again. Today’s already hard as it is, why do you have to make it harder?”

He takes one more step towards you, his chest now touching yours and your hand that separated you lands involuntarily on his right peck. As if his presence wasn’t overwhelming enough, you feel a hardness pressing against your thigh, and for a moment you worry he can feel how wet you really are under your skirt. His voice is a low, a deep rumble.

“I don’t know. Why do you have to make everything so hard?”

“You are unbelievable”, you scowl at him and free yourself from his trap. You turn to the big mirror to avoid looking at him anymore, and you come to the embarrassing realization of how fucked out you look right now. You had to get out of there as soon as possible, before you do anything stupid and lose any trace of self control left in you. But not before you gave Jaehyun an earful.

“What I meant was that I am out there, being paid to be all lovey-dovey with you. This is not something easy for me you know. It’s basically prostitution.”

You catch Jaehyun’s eyes in his reflection, and for a fleeting moment they turn a colour that you hadn’t seen them in for a long time. Hurt? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it was gone in a second, replaced by that smile that made him both irresistibly smackable and fuckable at the same time.

“Did it cross your tiny brain that maybe someone could hear you? Staff leaks information all the time! If they found out we were fucking…”

“Were? Past tense?”

“Are. Will be. Whatever.” You sigh, defeated, hiding your eyes with your palms as you face him once again. “Like I said, this is important to me. So no more dirty talk on set. Okay?”

Jaehyun avoided your glance, from embarrassment or uninterest maybe. “Okay”

You continue to sit there silently, but your head is so occupied with a million thoughts that you don’t notice. How you will get through the rest of the shooting, whether your manager is looking for you or not, the coldness of the glass Jaehyun had pressed you against that day. The only thing that snapped you out of it, was him suddenly taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”, you ask panicking, but you can’t dismiss the pool of excitement in your belly.

“We have a wardrobe change after the break, remember? And since you refuse to leave my changing room..”

You clear your throat, trying your hardest to rip your eyes away from his abdomen, that you’ve so keenly marked with love bites before. His naked skin must have monopolized your attention way more than you realized, as you can’t remember when he slithered his way closer to you, towering over your height.

“Stare much?”, he almost growls, arousal dripping from his voice.

Every fiber of your being wanted to lurch forward, glide your fingers through his hair and start nibbling at those pretty lips of his. The sexual tension, amplified by the argument you just had, was filling the room like a thick liquid would fill a cup. One more drop, one more second of his staring and it would overflow. It felt so real, that you could feel that drop landing on your forehead. Then another one on your cheek, and that’s when you realized that what you felt was real.

“What the-?”, Jaehyun mumbles as he stares up at the ceiling, a big wet spot staining it and allowing the water drops to slowly wet his styled locks. As you start to put two and two together, someone knocks loudly on the door, making you both jump one feet away from the other.

“Get undressed”, a high-pitched male voice that you recognize as Jaehyun’s manager calls through the door, “the rain is ruining the set. It’s a wrap for today”

———————————————————————

A soft touch on your lower back, an even softer breath making your ears tingle. A tentative kiss on your neck that’s full of purpose and makes you shiver.

And then another touch, this time more south on your body. Fingertips grazing over your sensitive clit. Easily moving through your wetness and finally dipping inside of you. That baritone voice.

“This pussy is mine, isn’t it, kitty cat?”

You look up to meet the face of the familiar voice, only to meet Jaehyun’s baby brown eyes. The pleasure was enough to make you ignore the despised nickname, flowing intensely through your body. You let out a desperate moan, gripping his arms to keep your balance. His fingers are now dragging through your walls and you clench around them instinctively, confused but enamored by his touch. You are falling apart.

“Jaehyun? What are you doing?”

“I want to make love to you”

“Love? But you hate me”

He plants another kiss on the slope of your neck, his hands picking up in pace and making you feel like you’re floating on air.

“Love. Hate. Is there really any difference when I’m here, ready to please you? Willing to make you feel things you have never felt before?”

“You already do”, you admit, only seconds away from your orgasm. The bliss is so close you can almost taste it, but for now you choose to taste his lips. They are so soft and warm that you realize you haven’t kissed Jaehyun since that night at the practice room. How you miss him. Not the group visual, not the idol, not even Jaehyun. Yoonoh.

“Yoonoh”, you moan out against his lips as the pleasure overtakes you, a low buzz humming in your ears, “mmm yes, Yoonoh”

“Who the fuck is Yoonoh?”

You finally wake up, your manager shaking you awake being the first thing you see. The sun’s morning rays are peeking through your blinds, warming your skin in lines. Your phone’s ignored alarm clock is still buzzing on top of your nightstand.

“No one. I’m awake, thanks”

Fuck. That makes it what? The fourth night in a row you dreamt about him?

“Get, up. Quickly. We’re late”

You groaned at the banging of your head that was caused by you getting up so fast. It was early into the morning, as you had to get ready for the mv’s second shooting day. The heavy rainfall wouldn’t allow for the filming to continue for another week, yet aided your growing anxiety of having to encounter Yoon- Jaehyun again.

You felt a little stupid, like a kid that goes to middle school for the first time, anxious but full of butterflies in your stomach in the thought of seeing him again. You weren’t sure who the anger, that came with the inability to control the fresh feelings bubbling from your dream, should be directed at. Your manager for booking you this job? Jaehyun for making it his goal to have you dripping wet on set? You, for letting it all affect you so much?

You decide on the former, giving your poor manager the cold shower for forcing you to deal with the problems you’ve caused yourself. Checking your phone, you realise that you are, indeed, late, and wonder how quick you’re going to have to make your morning shower.

“Is Jaehyun and his team there already?”, you ask your manager as nonchalantly as you could, feigning mildly interested in his answer.

“Oh, they didn’t tell you? The other team asked for the shootings to continue separately”. You felt your stomach drop all the way down to your condo’s basement. And the icing on the cake: “Jung Jaehyun’s request”

Maybe your manager wasn’t as clueless to your electricity, or maybe it was your sudden impulse to pluck every loose thread of the pyjama top you were wearing that made him sense the discomfort following what he’d just said. He plops next to you on your bed, boards creaking in the silent room and you feel his rough hands patting you on the back.

“I’m sure he had an overlap in schedules and needed a break, nothing to do with you”

But you knew better, and you knew your palms wouldn’t stop itching unless you picked up your fucking phone and sent him a message.

you [06:30]: i heard you can’t make it to set today. everything ok?

You wish you never did. The radio silence from his number was way worse than any insult, any form of teasing he could give you on set. You even tried calling him, desperate for an answer, a closure even. Maybe he was busy. Maybe the shooting took longer than expected. Maybe he wasn’t avoiding you; one of his managers uploaded his latest story on his instagram, not him. Maybe at the end of the week he would get back to you.

------------------------------------------------------

Going to his dorm unannounced was not a good idea. Waiting for someone to open the door for you, you hope his members will recognise you from your trainee days, or those rare nights Jaehyun sneaked you in when you were both lonely and in need of a… well, whatever you two were.

You’re starting to worry that whoever saw you from the peephole thought you were a sasaeng and called security, when Mark opens the door. His eyes are wide open behind his glasses, clearly not expecting you and immediately yelling for his ‘Jaehyun hyung’.

Soon, the called male arrives at the apartment’s entrance, annoyed for being interrupted from whatever it was he was doing. “What is it, me and Jungwoo are watching the season fina-“

As if Mark suddenly turned invisible, Jaehyun walks right past him, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to his room without another word.

Jungwoo, engrossed with the aforementioned show’s season finale on his computer screen, tries to cover up his naked torso in panic when he notices you.

“Get out.”, Jaehyun orders him, and the younger man knows that his tone is not one to be argued with. It triggers the cold sweat that makes your clothes stick closer to your skin and forces your heartbeat to quicken, pumping blood all over your body. The door closes, leaving you both alone with only the sound of Jungwoo’s laptop still playing in the background. A lighthearted scene that is too oxymoronic against the tension that is just palpable at this point. What the hell were you thinking coming here?

“What the hell were you thinking coming here?”, Jaehyun speaks your thoughts out loud, and you wince at how empty your head is with excuses.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“What?”, he asks dumbly, hoping you would avoid asking again.

“Was it that hard to text me back? Am I such a waste of your time?”

Jaehyun seems angry at your confrontation, his bad mood escalating with every word that is leaving your mouth. He still avoids to look at you, toying with some plushies and decorations next to his bedpost. You realize you never had time to really notice them, barely recognizing them. You always entered the room blindly, pressed up against Jaehyun’s body and with his lips all over your neck, then left as soon as the sex was over. His apathy was infuriating.

One by one, you start to remove all of your outerwear, dropping your clothes on the floor until you’re left in only your bra and jeans. Jaehyun stares at you incredulously, then at the pile of clothes on the floor, unable to make out the reasoning behind your impromptu stripping.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting naked. Seems to be the only time you can actually pay attention to me.”

You reach for the buttons of your jeans, only able to unzip it halfway before Jaehyun has you pinned against the wall behind you, his fingers cool and pressing lightly against your neck.

“I-I fucking hate you!”, he cries, punching the surface to release some of the steam, and lets go of the hold on your neck almost completely. How tempted he is, to just fuck your right against that wall, pour out his anger by pouring out his cum inside you, then ignore each other like you always do.

It’s the easy thing to do, keeping the toxic circle going. All barking and fucking and no real problem gets resolved in the end. He wouldn’t even call a cab for you, preferring to be hated for something he wasn’t than to be rejected for showing the real him. You would still have no idea about his feelings towards you, going around saying how awful he was while asking for a round two. But Jaehyun was tired.

“Can’t you tell that I am trying to distance myself from you?”, he sighs and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound so emotionally exhausted.

“Why do you dislike me so much? We used to be friends and then one day you-“

“Friends? Just friends?”, he interrupts you with a chuckle and a sarcastic puff through his nose, and you shake your head.

“If you also think that what we had was more special than a common friendship then why act like you don’t know me?”

“You were the one who wanted to ‘forget about anything happening and never telling a soul about it’, remember?”

“I thought we came to a mutual agreement! I was just trying to save our careers and it worked Jaehyun, you got to debut and I-“

“And you just threw away everything we had like it was the easiest thing to do! Do you ever want to know how I feel, y/n? First you want nothing to do with me, left the company without even saying goodbye. Then I try to forget about you, become an asshole to keep you out of my life and suddenly you want to jump my bones. One day you just play blind to everything, asking for professionalism and now I’m the one ignoring you? What the fuck do you want? A fuck buddy? A professional? A friend?”

“I want you, Yoonoh. Fuck, I just want you”

You’re not sure which one of you initiates the kiss. His lips are as plump and kissed as hard as you recalled, a couple of tears staining your cheeks that you didn’t realize you were holding back. It felt so right, the way his head pushed and pulled away from yours, always inviting you back to him. One hand was situated over the dimples of your waist, the other lost between your hair, untangling it gently. You decided to lay yours over his heart, feeling its tempo and calming yourself down.

You kiss for what seems like an eternity, so drunk in bliss that you can’t remember how you made it through life without Jaehyun’s taste all over your tongue. When he pulls away from your lips, you almost whine, but his fingertips dabbing at the soft skin of your cheeks feel just as comforting.

“I don’t want us to be like this anymore”, you whisper to him and he nods encouragingly, holding you even closer. “I’m sorry for not reaching out to you all these years ago, I just thought ‘What would a brand new idol want to do with a failed trainee like me’-“

Jaehyun brings your fingers to his lips, kissing all your knuckles one by one and you think you’re gonna burst at the seams. “You weren’t a failure, you were the best thing to happen to me back then”. His voice is so sincere that you don’t dare question the veracity of what he’s saying and you let him continue. “When I saw you again I was so bitter, I decided to turn off my feelings. I think I get too comfortable in that role. I put it on for me, my members, my fans even”, he stops then, laughing sadly, “it’s how I finally got you”

It was your turn to open up his eyes to the truth, holding his face between your hands and admiring its beauty.

“That’s not true. I kept staying because I knew what was hidden behind all that armor. I guess, the sex was the only way to get closer to you”

“Not because I’m good?”, he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and you can feel his dimples forming under your fingers.

“Eh, you’re pretty good too”

He starts pecking your neck, his smile obvious in his kisses and you squeal when he lifts you to his bed. Bouncing on the hard mattress, you let him lay his body weight over yours as he gives you a million traces of his love.

“So, I’m guessing this means we start over?”, he asks reluctantly as he emerges from your half naked body and you hold back from cooing at him.

“I thought you loved to hate me?”

“I think I hate it, but I love you”

#neosmutcollective #Jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun angst #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct angst #jaehyun fluff #nct

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cornacopicimagines · 4 years ago

Text

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well.

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride."

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable.

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

━━★✼☆｡

The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

━━★✼☆｡

The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything.

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

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monotonous-minutia · 3 years ago

Text

Benvenuto Cellini in 300 lines or fewer

for the lovely and incredibly patient @notyouraveragejulie, as requested! Happy Cellini-versary! took me long enough, but decided to get it done today to honor the occasion :)

Act I Scene I

Balducci’s house

Balducci: Teresa what are you doing looking out the window I told you never to look out the window. Besides I need you to listen to my rant. Can you BELIEVE what the Pope has just told me? He’s hired that delinquent Cellini to make his new statue instead of Fieramosca. I just can’t wrap my head around it.

Teresa: Maybe you could if it wasn’t so big.

Balducci: What?

Teresa: Nothing.

(Balducci exits)

Teresa: Ugh FINALLY I hate listening to his rants. )goes back to look out the window)

Masqueraders outside: LALALALA IT’S CARNIVAL THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR

(Balducci comes back and sees Teresa at the window)

Balducci: TERESA WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT STAYING AWAY FROM THE WINDOW what is even going on down there? I bet it’s that Cellini whipping everyone into a frenzy. Ugh, Carnival. (exits again)

Teresa: (goes to the window and is immediately showered with flowers) I don’t care what my dad says, hanging out by the window is fun. I love flowers. Oh hey, a note from Cellini! What? He’s coming here? Oh, that’ll be risky. But hey, dad’s out of the house, what could go wrong? Y’know, it’s kinda hard, dealing with all this—feeling like I have to listen to my dad, but wanting to indulge in the affections of my beloved. When I’m older, old like my parents, maybe I’ll be responsible, but right now I’m young, and I deserve to have some fun! Girls just wanna have fun!

Cellini: (appearing at the window) TERESA MY BELOVED

Teresa: Cellini, I love you, but it’s too dangerous for you to be here. What if my dad catches us?

Cellini: But look, it’s carnival, and it’s so gay! And I mean that like happy, but y’know, it’s pretty gay too. Besides, I love you. Why do you turn me away?

Teresa: Well, I just got done singing this empowering feminist aria, but unfortunately reality hits and I remember that it’s 1532 and I basically have no rights, so it’s best for you to forget me and move on.

Fieramosca: (sneaking in carrying a huge bouquet) The best way to a woman’s heart is with a cool sneak-in plan and a bunch of flowers. Hang on, is that Cellini talking to my Teresa?

Cellini: How am I supposed to just leave you behind? Let you be forced into the arms of that Fieramosca?

Teresa: I’d rather die than marry Fieramosca!

Fieramosca: …I just came here to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.

Cellini: Okay, so, how about this: Come to the new opera Cassandro is presenting tomorrow night. While your dad is distracted, my apprentice and I will sneak over disguised as friars and spirit you away! We’ll go to Florence and live happily ever after! Nothing could possibly go wrong!

Fieramosca: Hmm, interesting plan. It would be a shame if someone were to...interfere.

Teresa: Sounds foolproof. But hang on, my dad is coming back. You have to hide!

(Cellini hides behind the door. Fieramosca hides in Teresa’s bedroom. Balducci somes back.)

Balducci: Teresa, what are you up to? Are you talking to people? How many times do I have to remind you that you’re not allowed to have a life?

Teresa: (distracting him so Cellini can sneak out) DAD THERE’S A MAN IN MY BEDROOM

Balducci: What??? Let me see!

(Balducci goes into Teresa's bedroom and comes out dragging Fieramosca) I can’t believe this! This is so inappropriate, Fieramosca, how dare you?

Fieramosca: No, wait, let me explain! I just came to visit! Cellini is the real rascal!

Teresa: Oh the poor man is raving mad.

Balducci: I will not stand for this! Servants, come here! Let’s teach this seducer a lesson!

Servants: OH YEAAAHHHHH LET’S STICK HIM IN THE FOUNTAIN

Fieramosca: NO WAIT

Teresa: This is the best thing ever.

Act I Scene II

Piazza Colonna

Cellini: I can’t wait to elope with Teresa!

(A bunch of Cellini’s friends and students come in)

Chorus: LALALALALA LET’S GET SLOSHED

Cellini: Yes, but for god’s sake none of those ridiculous drinking songs. Let’s sing about the glory of metal-workers!

Everyone: YEAH GLORY TO THE METAL-WORKERS!! WE’RE THE BEST WE WORK WITH METAL THAT SPARKLES LIKE JEWELS AND RIPPLES LIKE FLOWERS AND IS MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN BOTH OF THOSE PUT TOGETHER

Bernardino: Alright folks, let’s drink up!

Innkeeper: Sorry lads, not until you pay your tab.

Cellini: Okay who’s got the cash? …nobody? Well this is a nice little pickle we’ve gotten ourselves into.

Ascanio: (enters carrying a bag of money) ASCANIO TO THE RESCUE

Everybody: YEAHHH VIVA ASCANIO

Ascanio: Okay hold your horses folks, before you spend this money, you have to realize where it’s coming from. It’s a down payment on that statue you’re supposed to build. Cellini, remember you promised the Pope you’d make that statue?

Cellini: Ugh, don’t remind me.

Ascanio: It’s literally my job to remind you.

Cellini: Fiiiiine I promise I’ll finish the statue.

Ascanio: Okay, cool. Here’s the money.

Cellini: Here you go, you troublesome little man, now give us our drinks.

(He gives the Innkeeper the money.)

Cellini: Okay, now that we all have had our libations, let’s talk revenge. You know that guy Balducci who’s always disrespecting me and trying to keep me away from my girlfriend? Well, I have a plan for Carnival where we can humiliate him in front of everyone as payback!

Everyone else: Sounds like a great time! We’re in.

Everyone: Yeah!! A curse on that guy! And while you’re at it, honor to the metal-workers again!!

Ascanio: That’s such a bop where’d it come from?

Cellini: We made it up while you were gone.

Ascanio: I always miss the fun stuff.

(they all leave to get ready; Fieramosca, who was eavesdropping, comes out into the open)

Fieramosca: Ugh, look at them all, plotting against my future!

Pompeo: (entering) Hey boo! What's with the long face?

Fieramosca: Alas, Pompeo, my only friend! What a week it's been! First off, I got an impromptu and very much unwanted bath at Balducci’s yesterday. And as if that weren’t enough, now Cellini and his apprentice are going to abduct my girl!

Pompeo: That’s actually not a bad idea.

Fieramosca: What do you mean?? You want him to steal Teresa from me?

Pompeo: No, the getting in disguise and abducting her part! Why don’t WE just don those same disguises and get her ourselves?

Fieramosca: Ohhh, I get it! What a great idea! Although I must admit, I am a little scared of what Cellini might do if he catches me in the act.

Pompeo: What you think he’s actually going to stab somebody? Here, let’s practice sword fighting so you’re prepared if he does try to pull anything funny.

Fieramosca: Good idea! (they practice sword fighting) HA LOOK AT ME, WHO WOULD EVER DARE CHALLENGE ME, ALL Y’ALL PEASANTS GET OUT OF MY WAY, I’M THE ROUGHEST TOUGHEST GUY YOU EVER DID SEE. Oh, Teresa, I wish you could know just how much my heart burns for you! I’ll be damned if I let that rascal Cellini come between us.

(They leave to get ready. Balducci enters with Teresa as the Piazza begins to fill with people)

Balducci: Well, Teresa, I hope you’re happy. I’ve decided to suffer through this vulgar comedy so you can stop nagging me about not letting you go to Carnival.

Teresa: I’ll never forget your sacrifice, dad. (Come to think, it DOES make me feel a little guilty to be running away from home...is it fair to leave him all by himself?)

Cellini and Ascanio: (dressed as monks) Quickly and quietly, let’s get down to business! The plot is about to start!

Chorus or Troupers: COME, GOOD PEOPLE OF ROME!! COME AND SEE OUR SHOW!!

People: THIS IS SO MUCH FUN CARNIVAL IS AWESOME

Troupers: Let the show begin! (They start a pantomime featuring a parody of Balducci and the Pope)

Balducci: What fresh nonsense is this?

Teresa: Uhhh maybe we should go?

People: SHUT UP AND WATCH THE SHOW

Balducci: You know what? I’m going to suffer through this whole thing and then go tell the Pope how you’re all mocking him! Because he and I talk all the time I guess.

People: WE SAID SHUT UP JUST WATCH THE SHOW

Cellini: Ascanio, can you see Teresa?

Ascanio: Nope but I see someone else trying to interfere with our plans!

People: HAHAHA WATCH THE SHOW THIS IS SO FUNNY LOOK AT HARLEQUIN LOOK AT THE OLD MAN HAHAHA

Balducci: I’M GOING TO TELL ON ALL OF YOU

Teresa: Dad, stop, you’re just riling them up!

Balducci: THAT’S IT I’VE HAD ENOUGH COME GET A TASTE OF MY WRATH (he runs onstage wielding his cane)

People: HAHAHA THIS JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER

Fieramosca: Come on, Pompeo, let’s sneak over and grab Teresa!

Cellini: Come on, Ascanio, let’s sneak over and grab Teresa!

Fieramosca: Teresa, it’s me! Come with me!

Cellini: Teresa, it’s me! Come with me!

Teresa: ??? I don’t know who is who!

Cellini: Come with me!

Fieramosca: Come with me!

Teresa: You know, when I imagined myself falling in love, I never thought I’d have two fake monks vying for my attention.

Ascanio: WE’VE BEEN HAD YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS (starts chasing Fieramosca)

Cellini: Get out of my way! Cut it out! (He and Pompeo fight; Cellini stabs Pompeo.)

Pompeo: Oh, I’m dead! (He dies.)

People: OMG SOMEBODY DIED CALL 911 I CAN’T BELIEVE A MONK JUST KILLED A GUY WHAT KIND OF WORLD DO WE LIVE IN

Fieramosca: OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU JUST KILLED MY BOYFRIEND

Teresa: OMG CELLINI

Balducci: OMG A DEAD MAN TERESA WHERE ARE YOU

Cellini: OMG I’M REALLY IN TROUBLE NOW

Ascanio: Well, that happened.

(General chaos ensues; Cellini’s students help him escape. Amidst the mayhem Balducci bumps into Fieramosca, and, thanks to his white monk costume, mistakes him for the murderer)

Balducci: I FOUND HIM I FOUND THE MURDERER

Fieramosca: ...are you telling me this is the second time in as many days I’m being accused of something that Cellini did?

Ascanio: Come on, Teresa, let’s get out of here!

Teresa: You don’t have to tell me twice! (They both run off.)

Act II Scene I

Cellini’s workshop

Teresa: Oh my gosh what a catastrophe! I hope Cellini is okay!

Ascanio: Have faith! My master is not one to let a silly little murder accusation get him down. I mean, he did actually kill the guy, but I’m sure it will all work itself out. Have faith!

Teresa: Let’s pray for his safe return! (She and Ascanio sing a very pretty prayer; Cellini busts into the workshop)

Cellini: HONEY I’M HOME

Teresa and Ascanio: OMG YAYY YOU’RE ALIVE

Cellini: It was a close call! Everyone was running after me with daggers and calling out for my blood! I thought for sure I was done for, but I managed to evade the crowd and find a place to hide, but passed clean out in the process. It was just my fortune that as I came to my senses, as group of white monks were walking past! I joined their procession and no one was the wiser. God led them right to you!

Teresa: OMG that’s such a harrowing adventure! I’ve got goosebumps.

Ascanio: And you’re sure this is 100% accurate, with no embellishments?

Cellini: What do you take me for? Now, come on, we’ve got to get out of here before they come after us again.

Ascanio: Whoops, they’re already here.

Balducci: Cellini, you scoundrel, abductor, murderer, and general all-around-annoying person! Relinquish my daughter. It’s time for her to unite with her husband, Fieramosca.

Cellini: OVER MY DEAD BODY

Ascanio: Don’t give them any ideas!

Balducci: Come on, Fieramosca, claim your bride!

Teresa: DAD NOOOOO

Fieramosca: Uh...I don’t want to cause a scene…

(The Pope enters with his retinue)

Everybody: OH SHI--OH DEAR IT’S THE POPE

Pope: Rise, rise, my children! Relish in my holiness, but don’t hurt yourselves.

Balducci and Fieramosca: Oh your Holiness, please grant us your assistance! That rascal Cellini has tarnished Teresa’s honor.

Cellini: Come on, I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.

Pope: Well well, well, Cellini, this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten in trouble with me, is it? For example, where’s my statue? The one I commissioned you to make?

Cellini: Well...it’s not quite done yet.

Pope: Are you saying I should find someone else to cast the statue instead?

Cellini: WHAT?? HOW DARE YOU!! SOMEONE ELSE CAST M STATUE?? I’D RATHER DIE THAN SEE SOME AMETURE DARE TO PUT THEIR GRUBBY LITTLE FINGERS ON MY MASTERWORK

Everyone else: Are you seriously yelling at the Pope????

Pope: Arrest this man!

Cellini: YOU ARREST ME AND I WILL DESTROY THIS MODEL RIGHT HERE THEN NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO FINISH THE STATUE! NOBODY!! NOBODY!!

Pope: How dare you threaten me? What’s it going to take to calm you down?

Cellini: I want full forgiveness for all my crimes up till this point. Wipe my record clean.

Pope: Fine, fine.

Cellini: ALSO I want Teresa.

Balducci and Fieramosca: WHAT??? Your Holiness can’t possibly be considering this.

Cellini: I ALSO want more time to finish the statue.

Pope: …you know my weakness for art; fine, fine, I can’t really say no.

Balducci and Fieramosca: What audacity! But we’ll see who has the last laugh.

Teresa: Oh, what a fateful day!

Ascanio: Look at my master, he’s so clever and devious!

Pope: Okay, Cellini, here’s the deal. Finish the statue by tomorrow, and you’ll get all that you asked for. If you can’t finish it in time, you’ll be hanged.

Cellini: Fine!

Balducci and Fieramosca: He’s on the brink of ruin! We’ll see who wins this one!

Teresa: He’s doomed, alas! There’s nothing left for me in this world! Luckily I'm not going to end my life based on this notion like most operatic heroines, but I still feel dread in my heart!

Cellini: I’ve got to win this!

Ascanio: Come one boss you’re the best you got this!!!!

Act II Scene II

Cellini’s Foundry

Ascanio: TRALALALALALA….idk what I’m feeling...I’m happy, then I’m sad, then I’m crying, then I’m laughing, then I’m singing! Must be the hormones. Or the stress...our little bronze boy is finally getting finished today! But there’s a lot on the line. On one hand, I’m all scared that we’ll fail and my poor master will be hanged; on the other hand I can’t help laughing over how ridiculous the whole situation is...I mean, did you SEE the way my master stood up to the Pope?? Anyway, I better start getting ready. Tralalala! (He exits)

Cellini: What have I gotten myself into? How did I expect to finish this statue on time? All of Rome has its eyes on me

Ascanio: *Hamilton chorus voice* history has its eyes on youuuu

Cellini: What?

Ascanio: Nothing. I’m not here.

Cellini: Ah, why can’t I be a simple shepherd, whiling my life peacefully away in the mountains?

Chorus outside: Oooh!! here’s a grim old sea shanty

Cellini: I wish they’d stop! Nothing good ever happens when they sing that song!

Ascanio: (coming back) Not that song again!

Cellini: Take heart! We’re like sailors ourselves, but our sea is made of metal! Let’s get to work!

Fieramosca: NOT SO FAST!! I demand justice! Cellini, I challenge you to a duel! No need for all those sword-fighting lessons to go to waste.

Cellini: Someone finally grew a pair, eh? Fine, let’s duel right here.

Fieramosca: Not here! If I kill you in your own place, I’m a murderer. Meet me behind St. Anthony’s cloister.

Cellini: I’ll see you there!

(Fieramosca leaves; Teresa enters)

Ascanio: Here’s your sword, boss!

Teresa: Omg Cellini are you going to a duel??

Cellini: Relax, it’s just Fieramosca. (exit with Ascanio.)

Teresa: What if it’s an ambush????

Cellini’s workers (storming in) THAT’S IT WE’RE GOING ON STRIKE THESE WORKING CONDITIONS SUCK

Teresa: Oh heavens! What’s this ruckus? Come on, folks, just wait for Cellini to come back and talk about it!

Workers: NOPE WE’RE OUTTA HERE

(Fieramosca walks in)

Teresa: OMG FIERAMOSCA IS BACK WITHOUT CELLINI THAT MEANS CELLINI IS DEAD HE KILLED CELLINI (faints)

Workers: YOU KILLED OUR BOSS???

Fieramosca: What? No! Geez, this really is not my week. I’m just here to offer you the raise Cellini won’t give you.

Workers: NOPE WE’RE LOYAL TO CELLINI FORGET WHAT WE JUST SAID GET OUTTA HERE YOU RASCAL

Cellini: (coming back) What’s going on?

Teresa: (awake) OMG YOU’RE ALIVE

Cellini: ...was that ever in question? Oh, hey, Fieramosca, you’re just in time to help build the statue! Here’s an apron, get to work.

Fieramosca: What? I--

Everyone else: Get to work, or you’ll be taking another impromptu bath, but this time it’ll be in a sea of molten metal!

Fieramosca: YIKES! Okay, lead the way.

Everyone: COME ON LADS LET’S GET TO WORK

(the workers and Fieramosca head to the forge. Balducci enters with the Pope.)

Balducci: Teresa! What are you doing here?

Teresa: Uh, funny story.

Pope: So, Cellini, is my statue done yet?

Cellini: Nope, but it will be very soon.

Balducci: We’ll see about that.

Pope: You better be right.

Fieramosca: (running in) We need more metal for the statue!

Cellini: What, are you messing up my statue?? Let me go see (he runs to the forge)

Balducci: Fieramosca? What are you doing wearing an apron?

Fieramosca: Would you believe me if I said I got a new job?

Cellini: (coming back) Haha nothing to see here! Everything is going according to plan! We just need a bit more metal, that’s all, no biggie.

Workers: Just one problem: There is no more metal. And the fire’s going out. If we don’t get more metal in there quick, the whole thing will be ruined!

Balducci: Well, well, well, looks like I’m winning!

Cellini: NO THIS IS NOT THE END I REFUSE TO GIVE UP! Everyone, just grab anything metal and throw it in there!

Workers: What?? Even all your old work?

Cellini: I SAID EVERYTHING DIDN’T I

(Cellini, the workers, and Ascanio all start grabbing metal things and throwing them into the furnace)

Teresa: I can’t handle this stress!!

Pope: I can’t believe the nerve of this guy! Is it possible he could actually succeed?

(An explosion comes from the forge)

Cellini: OMG THIS IS IT I’M DONE FOR

Workers: WOOHOO WE DID IT LONG LIVE CELLINI

Cellini: We did it??

Workers: VICTORY! VICTORY!! LOOK AT THE STATUE ISN'T IT AMAZING

Fieramosca: CELLINI WE DID IT HOW ABOUT A HUG

Cellini: ...how about no

Pope: Well, Cellini, I didn't think I was going to be able to say this, but you made good on your word. I officially pardon your sins, and bless your marriage to Teresa. (He leaves.)

Cellini: YAYY TERESA

Teresa: YAYY CELLINI

Everyone: VICTORY!! LONG LIVE CELLINI!! IMMORTAL GLORY! GLORY TO THE METAL-WORKERS!!!!

The End

#Benvenuto Cellini #abbreviated operas #Hector Berlioz #Léon de Wailly #Henri Auguste Barbier #opera #opera tag

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jackies-wearing-khakis · 5 years ago

Text

Marriage and Murder Pt. 1 (Shelby!Reader)

a/n: I'm a bit disappointed I had to post this in two parts, but alas, the original one-shot was too long for Tumblr.

summary: Things get progressively darker as you try to survive Tommy and Grace's wedding night.

words: 3101

warnings: Themes of drinking and sexual assault.

"(y/n), for fuck's sake, hurry up!" Polly shouted from the betting room. She, Ada, Finn, John, and Esme were dressed in formal clothes, waiting for you to get ready.

"Five minutes, Pol!" you called from your bedroom.

"I swear to God," your aunt said under her breath as she checked her watch. "It's her own brother's wedding and she's decided to take her sweet time."

"What's taking her so long anyway?" Finn asked, bored to death.

"She probably looks ugly as hell and can't stand to face it," John whispered, earning a chuckle from Finn and a smack to the back of the head from Ada.

"I don't care 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 she's doing, if that girl's not down here soon we're leaving without her." Polly huffed.

What Polly and the others didn't understand was that you were by 𝘯𝘰 means taking your sweet time. If anything, you were practically tripping over yourself to try and find a dress to wear to Tommy and Grace's wedding. You'd accidentally ripped the dress you were supposed to wear the night before when you'd gotten your arm stuck in one of the sleeves. Now, you were caught between a rock and a hard place; go downstairs and face humiliation, or stay in your room and face Polly. You could tell today was going to be stressful.

You were legitimately considering cutting off the sleeves of your dress entirely when Polly came bursting into the room without warning.

"Pol, wait!" you shouted, instinctively holding your arms in front of your head for self-defense.

"I don't give a shit if you're ready or not, we're going," Polly growled. She grabbed your arm, unknowingly pulling at the rip in your dress. With one strong yank, your aunt had doubled the size of the tear. The two of you froze in shock at the damaged material.

"𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴, (y/n)," Polly muttered.

"I know, it's awful." you sighed.

As you stood there, Finn peeked his head into your room. Immediately, he saw your dress and gasped.

"𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, (y/n)." Finn chuckled. "What the hell did you do?"

"Go away!" you shouted angrily. You grabbed one of your shoes and chucked it at your brother, hitting him in the shoulder. He stumbled out of the room laughing.

You threw yourself face-first onto your bed in utter despair, sighing dramatically.

"Oh, Pol, this'll be the death of me," you whined, your voice muffled by the covers. Your aunt rolled her eyes as she lit a cigarette.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Polly spoke. "We'll figure something out."

It wasn't long before Ada and Esme had made their way upstairs and into your room. The four of you sat in silence, quietly brainstorming. Suddenly, Esme stood up.

"I've got a dress that might work," she said, and immediately rushed to go fetch it. Your face lit up, and you excitedly hopped off your bed to go with your sister-in-law. Ada and Polly exchanged glances.

You followed Esme into her and John's old room, where she was digging through her closet.

"Now, (y/n), you're a bit smaller than I am, so hopefully this won't look too awkward on you," Esme said, tossing clothes in every direction.

"Now, if only I could find the damn thing."

"What's it look like?" you asked.

"See for yourself," Esme responded, pulling out a green shapeless dress with beaded lace embroidery.

You gawked at the beauty of the thing; it was an excellent balance of elegance and youth. Not too modest, not too sexy; it was superbly tasteful.

"Oh my God, Esme, it's perfect." you breathed.

"Hurry up and try it on!" she urged, pushing the dress into your arms. With that, she rushed out of her room.

To your relief, the dress fit perfectly. You barely had any time to show it off to the others before Polly had rushed everyone out of the house and into the cramped car, practically dragging you all by the wrists.

The five of you slipped into the chapel quietly as you could. Tommy gave you all dirty looks as you scooted into the pews one by one.

"Where the fuck've you been?" Arthur whispered to Polly as she sat down next to him.

"There was a complication," Polly answered. "Nothing worth worrying about now."

"Complication my arse. 𝘛𝘩𝘪�� one took forever to get changed." John scoffed, pointing his thumb towards you.

"It wasn't my fault, the dress ripped!" you whined.

"It was 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 your fault, (y/n)," Finn added smugly.

"I swear to God if you three don't 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘱 I'll drag you all home by the ears." Polly threatened under her breath. Nobody had anything to say about your dress after that.

John grumbled as Grace entered the chapel.

"Here come the fucking cavalry, late as usual." he griped.

"I don't get it, why's everyone hate them?" you asked in a whisper.

"Well, first of all, they weren't supposed to wear their uniforms. Just goes to show they're disrespectful bastards." John whispered back.

"𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺? That's all it is?" you questioned.

John sighed as he tried to find the right words for the situation.

"Listen, (y/n), just stay away from them. Half those men are self-righteous pricks who'll take advantage of you if you give 'em the chance," he warned.

"Hush." Esme chimed in, squeezing John's hand. "They're exchanging vows."

Your gaze turned to the men in red uniform as Tommy and Grace stood at the altar. You accidentally locked eyes with a boy who couldn't have been older than twenty. Not sure what to do, you smiled politely at him. To your surprise, he smiled back.

Your exchange was cut off by the sound of Jeremiah Jesus's voice filling the room.

"I now pronounce you man and wife." he declared, and everyone in the chapel applauded as Tommy and Grace shared a kiss. You couldn't help but feel a pang of pride as you watched your brother smile at his new wife. There was something magical about the way he was able to just 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 in her presence, especially since you couldn't think of another day Tommy wasn't trying to take over Birmingham.

𝘖𝘩, 𝘛𝘰𝘮, you thought wistfully, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?

Unfortunately, the warmth of the wedding ceremony quickly faded as everyone gathered outside for the family photo. Nearly ten minutes went by as the Shelby clan struggled to organize themselves into a tight group.

You initially tried to stand behind Polly and Arthur to be near the other women, but that plan quickly failed when you realized you were too short to stand behind either of them. It was a tremendous effort to try to force yourself in between them, and the result left you in a painfully awkward position where you were left standing sideways. The ultimate solution was to have you stand with John's children; you were mortified.

"Christ, I look like a 𝘬𝘪𝘥," you whined, showing the picture to Finn. The two of you sat together at the base of the stairs in Tommy's house, trying your best to avoid the crowds of people wandering the halls..

"It's not that big a deal," he said plainly, taking the picture in his hands. "Nobody really cares."

"It's a big deal to me." you mumbled.

You could see John and Arthur approaching from a distance. By the looks of it, they'd already gotten their hands on some champagne.

"Finn. Tommy wants a meeting in the kitchen." Arthur spoke as he passed by.

"I should probably go with him." Finn sighed as he stood up.

"Wait, take me with you!" you pleaded, grabbing onto his arm. "I've got nobody else to talk to."

Finn quickly leaned over the stairs to check if Arthur and John had gone. Once he saw the coast was clear, he turned back to you.

"Fine. But you shouldn't say anything," he advised.

"Wasn't planning on it."

You and Finn had assumed the meeting would be family only, but as you snuck your way into the kitchen you were surprised to find a swarm of Blinders men crowding the room. You instinctively stuck close to your brother, trying your best to avoid bumping into anyone. The two of you slowly hovered towards the center of the room, where the immediate family gathered. There Tommy stood in the midst of it all with a cigar in his hands.

"Right. Today is my wedding day." he began, and the room fell silent.

"Yeah, and you said there'd be no uniforms, Tom." John interrupted, and a few people murmured in agreement.

"In spite of there being bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." Tommy continued, ignoring John's comment. "For Grace's sake, nothing will go wrong today."

Tommy began circling the room as he spoke, making sure to lock eyes with every man present.

"And if any of you fuckers do 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 to embarrass her, kin, cousins, your kids, your horses, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.."

Just as he was about to finish his sentence, Tommy noticed you standing there next to Finn. He froze for a moment, then furrowed his brows. You cursed under your breath.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asked, but it felt more like an accusation.

You realized every man in the room had their eyes on you. You shifted uncomfortably.

"It's a family meeting, isn't it?" you grumbled. "Last I checked I was a Shelby."

Tommy sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes in annoyance.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? I'm glad you're here because there's something I should say." he began. You crossed your arms defensively.

"You've been wild these past few months, (y/n), don't think I haven't noticed."

"So?" you scoffed.

"𝘚𝘰, I won't have any of it tonight. I swear, if I find out you've been drinking, flirting, or doing 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 that might damage this family's reputation, I assure you that you'll live to regret it. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥?"

You didn't know how to feel about Tommy's words. In a way, he was right; you'd been drinking more than usual as of late, not to mention fooling around with some of the boys you were going to school with. You didn't understand why that was such a big deal though, especially since you were a saint compared to your brothers. Really, the whole thing seemed unfair.

"Yeah, I understand." you finally answered. "I'll just spend the night boring myself to death while you boys do whatever you want."

"That's the spirit." he shot back.

"Tommy, what about snow?" Isiah asked from across the room. You silently thanked him for taking the attention off you.

"There'll be no cocaine," Tommy answered sternly. A few men in the room sighed.

Tommy took the opportunity to get back to his speech.

"No sport. No racing. No sucking the petrol out of their cars. You give them 𝘯𝘰 excuses to look down their noses."

The room was uneasy. Nobody was sure what to think as Tommy stood there, almost desperately trying to talk sense into his men.

"But the main thing is, you fuckers.." he began.

"Why are you mad at 𝘶𝘴, Tom?" Finn mumbled.

"..in spite of provocation from the cavalry.."

Tommy walked along the line of men standing around him, getting close to Arthur, then John, then Finn, then finally you.

"..no fighting. 𝘕𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨!"

And with that, everyone was sent out of the kitchen.

The party started slow, and you found yourself wandering around the house aimlessly with nothing to do. Everywhere you went people were already drinking, and a part of you wanted nothing more than to join them. The other, more sensible part remembered Tommy's warning and decided to avoid alcohol for the night. As much as you wanted to piss him off and indulge yourself, you knew getting drunk would only prove that you were irresponsible.

Dinner in the great hall was an absolute disaster. You sat between Finn and Ada, who were both caught up in their own conversations. You were starving, and Tommy and Grace had been taking a suspiciously long amount of time to get ready. Even after they'd finally come downstairs, Arthur had to get through his speech before anyone could eat.

"Now, I'm not one for speeches." Arthur began. The poor man looked like a deer trapped in headlights.

"Sing then!" John shouted. Esme grabbed his arm wearily.

"I've got a speech written down here. but it's not everything I want to say." Arthur droned on. You buried your head in your hands.

"Arthur, just read what we've written down," Tommy said softly.

"I will, Tom. But first, a few words from the heart."

Arthur gently placed the small piece of paper into one of his pockets, then cleared his throat.

"𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬." Tommy breathed.

"I'd just like to say that my brother helped me survive hard times. Trouble in my head.."

As Arthur gave his speech, you noticed Polly staring at a man who sat opposite her. He was older than she was and wore a dark suit that matched his serious expression.

"Who's that?" You leaned over and whispered to Ada.

"Kaledin something," she whispered back. "Don't bother talking politics with him, I've already tried."

Unlike Ada, you weren't interested in having political debates with strangers. Still, there was an air of mystery surrounding the man. Something about him made it impossible to look away, even when he met your eyes with his. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

Arthur's trainwreck of a speech was eventually cut short by Tommy. You felt bad for your eldest brother, but you were desperate to eat. Polly gave you a disapproving look as you scarfed down your food, but you didn't care; you were too hungry to act like a lady.

An hour had passed since the food was served, and by then everyone had made their way into the ballroom.

John and Arthur had set up a boxing area outside with Tommy's reluctant permission. After hovering around Polly for nearly half an hour, you finally gave in and went outside to watch the fights.

You were used to seeing your brothers fight, so not much could faze you in the boxing ring. Tonight was different, though. The men had such anger in them as they landed their punches. It was almost disturbing to watch Finn get knocked into the ground by a man in a red uniform.

"Gruesome, isn't it?" A voice asked from behind you. You turned around to face the very same cavalry boy you'd locked eyes within the chapel. Only now, he was standing a mere foot away from you and the two of you were practically alone.

"William. Fraser." the young man said, extending his hand.

You took his hand in yours and shook it. The dim light from the boxing ring illuminated your faces, and you were able to get good looks at each other. To your excitement, not only was he young, he was 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦.

"(y/n). Lee." you introduced yourself, lying through your teeth. You were done being a Shelby today.

"Mm. I thought you were a gypsy." William spoke. You raised your eyebrows in amusement.

"Really? How could you tell?" you asked.

"It's the dress. Very... 𝘣𝘰𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯," he replied.

"It was a gift, it's not mine," you assured, flattening the dress out. You suddenly felt a pang of self-consciousness.

"Oh, well it suits you well enough." And with that, William placed his hand on your waist.

"What are you doing?" you asked, chuckling nervously.

"Enjoying myself."

He slowly started to pull you into a kiss when you noticed Finn in the boxing ring. Another one of the cavalry boys had landed a particularly heavy blow onto his gut, and he fell onto the ground in defeat. You pushed William away to watch the scene.

"You know him?" William asked.

"He's my brother," you responded quietly, not taking eyes off Finn.

"He fights well enough for a boy his size, I didn't expect him to last as long as he did." William retorted.

"He's really good, actually. Likes it a lot, too," you said, relaxing as you saw Finn get up and shake his opponent's hand.

William took the opportunity to pick up where you left off and started to wrap his arms around your waist. You hesitated and stepped back.

"Wait, we shouldn't. Not in front of them." you gestured towards the crowds of people who were watching the fights.

"Good point." the young man hummed into your neck.

You lead William to a fairly secluded area of the gardens. There was a small, wooden bench that was nestled in between some of the bushes that lined the back wall of Tommy's mansion. The two of you sat together; there was an uncomfortable sexual tension between you.

William kissed you slowly as his hands wandered around your torso. You kept trying to cut him off, but he was persistent. If you would grab his arm, he would use the other one to pull you closer. If you turned away, he would kiss your neck.

"William I don't think we should do this," you whispered.

"Don't worry, love. nobody's around. You won't get in trouble." he assured.

"𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, just stop." you pleaded.

"Relax, I promise I'll make it worth your while.

With that, you'd had enough. You started smacking your palm against his shoulder, and he finally separated.

"𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵? I thought you wanted this!" William snapped.

"Why didn't you stop?" you asked him with a hurt look on your face. "I was 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 you to stop!"

"𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯, don't act like you didn't want it. You took me out here for a reason." he countered.

"I didn't think it would happen so fast!" you shouted.

William huffed, stood up, then brushed himself off.

"𝘎𝘺𝘱𝘴𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩." he spat, then walked away.

"What the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 did you call me?" you shot back. "Do you even know who the 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 I am?"

William froze in place and turned around. He gave you a dark look as he lit a cigarette. The red glow of the tiny embers illuminated his face.

"My name is (y/n) 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 Shelby." you hissed, and William's expression changed.

"You're related to the groom?" he realized.

"I'm his sister," you spat.

The young man sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair.

"𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵.. I had no idea. Let me make it up to you." he began, but you were already leaving.

"𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶." you scoffed as you passed him.

You made your way back to the ballroom, leaving William standing there alone.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, you thought, heading straight for a bottle of wine.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #shelby!reader #shelby!sister #shelby reader #shelby sister #shelby sis #polly gray #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #ada shelby #finn shelby #michael gray

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years ago

Text

Elliot, Just a Tech

Summary: Plagued by not having Admin rights on your work computer, you contact the IT department expecting to talk to your usual guy. However, you are greeted by someone new.

A/N: Consider this post-show

WC: 2596

Warnings: None

You looked over the icons on your desktop for the eleventh time, dragging the old version of Adobe into the trash for the tenth time, and growling with frustration as the error message appeared for what felt like the hundredth time.

Please enter an Administrator’s Username and Password.

After the great email phishing scam the month prior, the IT department had been directed to revoke all employee’s Admin rights to their computers. It wasn’t your fault your colleagues were too dumb to realize that you should not click on email that has been flagged as spam, even if it is a version of your boss’s name: Mattthew Whitman has scheduled a meeting with you at 9 pm!

As if Matthew spelled with three ts wasn’t enough to deter someone, scheduling a meeting at 9 at night should have been, not to mention the exclamation point to top it all off—no one ever enthusiastically scheduled a meeting. Ever.

Alas, no less than 13 people had opened the email, severely compromising the integrity of the network.

You needed to get rid of the old version of Adobe in order for your network’s cloud to allow the download of the updated version, so you were left with no choice but to submit a ticket to the IT department.

You and Matt, no relation to Mattthew your boss, had had several Zoom sessions since the start of the quarantine, mostly thanks to your need to actually get some work done. With so many more people on your network, the IT department was doing the best it could to make sure everyone was achieving basic functionality.

Opening a new work order, you quickly filled in your information and snapped a screen shot of the error message. In less than a minute, you had an email inviting you to a Zoom session.

“Matt’s really on it today,” you said while opening the link and waiting for him to start the session.

You had just glanced away to check your To-Do list when someone opened the Zoom session and you paused, staring at the downturned face of someone who was definitely not Matt.

“Hi,” you greeted awkwardly.

“Hi,” he answered, still not looking into the camera.

“Where’s Matt?”

The stranger looked into the camera, clearly caught off-guard.

“Uh, he’s off today.”

“So they finally unchained him from his desk—good for him!”

The stranger’s eyes widened a little in amusement, but he didn’t smile which caused your grin to quickly fade.

“Are you . . .” the stranger trailed off as he glanced at his other desktop monitor. “Y/N?”

“I am. And you are?”

“Elliot.”

“Are you the new Supervisor they were hiring for last week?”

“Nope. Just a Tech.”

“All right. Well, hi, Elliot, just a Tech. I’m in dire need of installing an update, which I cannot do because my colleagues are dumbasses.”

This time Elliot did smile, and you found yourself reaching up to fix the wild bun on the top of your head, wishing you had actually taken some time out not to look like a troll who had crawled out from under its bridge.

“I see that you can’t install Adobe’s update without administrative permission.”

“Yup. That’s my issue, I think.”

“I want to try something first,” Elliot said, concentrating on the task at hand as he looked away from the camera and to his other monitor.

“Can you locate your system preferences? You can find it by clicking on the appl-“

“Done. What do you want me to go into?”

Elliot looked back into the camera, then gave you a series of steps which you quickly followed.

“I am only semi-illiterate when it comes to technology,” you said, trying again to get him to smile and this time it worked.

Elliot adjusted his headset and lowered his eyes as he grinned. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to explain over the past few days.”

“Oh, I would absolutely believe them. I’ve talked three people in my department off a ledge just by explaining the magical powers of “Command + Z.”

Elliot chuckled, and the sound of his laughter filtering through the mic on his headset made you want to stay on the call as long as you could stretch it out.

“It looks like the program is not responding. I’ll need to take remote control of your desktop.”

“Have at it.”

You watched as Elliot worked, waiting for your mouse to start moving across the screen, but nothing happened.

“Uh, do you have any error messages on your end?”

“Nope.”

“Let me try one more thing,” Elliot mumbled, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

You sat quietly, letting him work, which gave you an excuse to just look at him and the more you looked at him, the more attractive you realized he was.

Elliot had a stylish haircut, although it looked like his fade had grown in quite a bit thanks to the lockdown. Tufts of straight black hair stood up on either side of his headset and you wondered if they’d be stiff or soft to the touch. His eyes were large, clearly the most enticing of the features of his face, except for his angular jaw that made you softly smile in appreciation of its masculinity. Elliot may consider himself “just a Tech,” but he was a damn good looking one.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you blurted out, forgetting all of your manners thanks to the lack of social interaction.

Elliot fumbled as he was typing and looked into the camera, his lips parted.

“Oh, lord. That came out . . . blunt. I asked because Matt’s been loving working from home. His wife just had a baby and even though he’s chained up in his home office at all hours of the day he still gets to spend time with the people he cares about. Which is what I was trying to ask you—if you were enjoying working from home.” You finished with an awkward laugh, and a barrage of mental curses to yourself.

Elliot’s lip turned up with a quirk. “My sister stops by to bring supplies, but I live alone.”

“Oh—well, that’s nice you have someone to interact with. I still see my sister, too.”

“I like this. Not having to interact with people.”

“The only downside is the verbal vomit you spew when talking to someone new because you no longer understand social protocol.”

Elliot laughed again, that same breathy little chuckle that upgraded from drawing your attention to making you shift in your chair.

“I’ve never been particularly adept at social protocol. Hence . . . just a Tech.”

You laughed and Elliot must have liked the sound because he stopped to watch you, his eyes flicking over your face through the camera.

“You need to update the Zoom app for me to take over your desktop. I don’t know why yours seems to have this glitch, but are you ready for the steps?”

You grabbed your pen and a fresh post-it. “Lay it on me, Tech.”

Elliot smirked, then listed the steps. “I’m going to close the call, but as soon as you’ve completed the steps, click on our Zoom link again.”

“Got it!”

Your eyes connected and lingered for just a moment before Elliot closed out the call.

You missed him immediately.

“Oh, Matt. If I had known Zoom calls could be like this, I’d have dumped you long ago.”

You shook your head to clear it and began to go through the steps Elliot had listed for you. You wanted to get this right to prove to him that you weren’t incompetent.

Having successfully, and quickly, completed all of the steps on your Post-it, you reinitiated the Zoom meeting.

“You’re quick.”

“I’m sure you’re much, much faster,” you said.

“I can only go as fast as the web connection, unfortunately,” Elliot replied, staring into his other monitor again.

“Let’s try this again—remember the steps to give me remote access?”

“I think so . . .” you said, trailing off as you began to click.

You paused, then your mouse began to move without you.

“Excellent job,” Elliot praised and you knew you wanted him to praise you again . . . preferably away from a computer, maybe in a bedroom—

“All right. So I need to delete, reinstall, and wait for an error message that’s been popping up making this a little harder for people to do themselves.”

You watched Elliot control your computer, and once he got to a point where the app was updating, he paused and turned back to the camera.

“About that girlfriend thing you asked me earlier. Are you seeing . . . anyone?”

“I was . . . about six months ago. By the time I was ready to get back on the horse, the plague struck.”

Elliot chuckled. “Not exactly the best time to start dating.”

“No,” you said softly laughing, too. “I agree with you, about the whole nice not seeing people thing, though. For me, it’s more about setting my own schedule. I get so much more done without constant interruptions just to chat.”

“Kinda like we are now?”

“Hey! We are waiting on a signal to go to space and come back. It’s only polite to give it some time so it doesn’t feel like it’s being watched—like a watched pot never boils kinda thing.”

Elliot smiled, his eyes meeting yours and lingering as you smiled back.

A new box popped up breaking your eye contact and Elliot went back to work.

“Fixed. You shouldn’t have to worry about the next update. We’ve been reporting this glitch regularly so the developers should have it fixed by then.”

“Thanks, Elliot. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my job,” he said with a slight shrug.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” you said, wishing you had a reason to stay connected.

“Yeah.” Elliot replied, looking at you again with those hypnotic, grey-blue eyes. If they could impress you through a screen, imagine what they looked like in person. “You too.”

You smiled at each other and when neither of you closed the call, you both laughed, Elliot looking a little shy and you looking a little embarrassed.

“I’ll close it. Don’t forget to fill in your survey so big brother knows I did my job.”

“Five-star service, all the way!”

Elliot chuckled again, and you shivered this time, the sound of his voice working its way through your entire body, filling you with a pleasant warmth.

“Bye,” he said, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he ended the meeting.

When the session closed out, you began to think of ways to break your computer so you needed to talk to him again, but before you could pull a purposefully dumbass move like downloading a virus, a sticky note popped up on your desktop.

212 555 0179

Probably breaking work protocol, but text me sometime if you want.

~Elliot, just a Tech

“Oh my god!” you gasped, glancing up at your camera to make sure you really were disconnected, unable to shake that feeling like someone was watching you. You reached for your packet of stickers and placed a fresh one over the camera of your computer—better paranoid than sorry!

“Should I text him now? Is that desperate? Or is it mean to make him wait? Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said, pacing around your small office space.

“Just a simple hello,” you decided. “First, gotta find my phone.”

After walking through your apartment, you found your phone in the kitchen, unsurprisingly because snacking had become your favorite hobby since the lockdown began. It was a blessing and curse to be able to eat whenever you wanted.

You took your cell back to your computer and smiled again at Elliot’s virtual Post-it note and typed in his number and contact information.

Hi, Elliot ☺️

Hi, Y/N. I hope your emoji means I didn’t creep you out

That’s what this one 😱 is for

Lol. Got it. I don’t really do the emoji thing. They kinda confuse me

Well then! Maybe that’s why we met? You know all the real techy stuff, and I know all the silly techy stuff. I can teach you to emoji like a boss 😎

Sunglasses = boss? Shades? Because bosses are shady?

🤣more like the shades mean you’re just too cool to care. Like a boss attitude. But actually 🤔that’s a really great analysis!

See? Confusing 👽

Confusing as in no one knows what’s really “out there” huh? Wow. I like your way of emojiying (new word, just go with it)

Lol really?

I do!

Can I ask you something?

Sure

Which emoji makes you think of me?

👀🦋💬🧸🧨 😰📱😃

You stared at Elliot’s text, a goofy grin on your face as you tried to puzzle out his emoji story. The eyes, okay, but the rest was sort of a mystery.

Lol! I need to do this in pieces so you can tell me if I’m right or wrong

So, you saw me and thought I was nice? Pretty? Delicate?

Lol pretty

Ok. Thanks, btw. We talked and then, oh boy, this is tough. An exploding bear? Talking to me made you feel like you were going to die? This is not good.

🤣 Poor choice of the firecracker, clearly, but take them as two separate things. What do you associate with a teddy bear?

Um, childhood . . . safety? Protection?

Close! Warm, safe. You seem like a warm, safe person to talk to.

I am grinning like an idiot right now. You are so sweet. But on to the firecracker? Wait! Like sassy? Like I have a firecracker personality?

Yes! You’re funny in a forward, witty way. I guess the “She’s a real firecracker” thing might be a bit outdated.

I LOVE IT. I gotta keep going now. This part is easy, I think. Sooo even though you felt nervous, you took a chance and left me your cell, and now you know it was a good choice because you made me happy.

Almost—when you texted, it made ME happy. Hence 😃 and I have big eyes so I used the big eye happy face.

I.am.dying. That’s the cutest thing anyone has ever done over a text in the history of the world!

Lol. Is there a dramatic emoji because I don’t think anything I’ve ever done is that great.

This WAS great. I’m serious

Do you wanna maybe have dinner over Zoom? God how lame is that?

You respect the quarantine—not lame at all. I’d love to!

They let me unchain myself around 6. I’ll send you a link at 7?

Perfect! But what are we going to order? Shouldn’t we order from the same place to make it more authentic?

Do you like Chinese?

Who doesn’t?

You looked at the location Elliot sent and laughed with the irony that it was your favorite take-out spot.

How did you know that was my favorite take-out spot?

Lucky guess 🤷🏽‍♂️

Well, lucky Elliot who is just a Tech. I’ll “see” you at 7. If we order the same dinner, I’ll consider it a sign that we are meant to take over the world together by eliminating one dumbass’s access to a computer at a time 🦸‍♀️🦸‍♂️

Lol except that would leave me out of a job

We will find you something more meaningful, I promise

Make me a list 😃

You got it! Can’t wait for 7 ☺️

Me either

* * * * *

Tags: @ramimedley @clumsybookworm18 @r-ahh-mi @aboutthatmelancholystorm @alottanothing @sherlollydramoine @txmel @diasimar @hah0106 @flipper-kisses @rami-malek-trash @ramisgirl512 @dancing-disco-deacy @just-a-queen-bee @eightiesriot

Maybe a Part II?

#Elliot Alderson #elliot alderson x reader #female reader (but it is pretty ambiguous)#elliot alderson fanfic #elliot alderson imagine #fluff #for now #Rami Malek character #rami malek fanfiction

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purplerose244 · 3 years ago

Text

Irrational - Chapter 7: Our world

There it is, the final chapter of my collection for the @spacecampweek!

It was really fun working on these prompts and I love writing about my math dorks! Thank you all for reading and for all the people who made material for this week, your work is amazing!!

For this free day the fic is inspired by the FaeAU created by @akozuheiwa! 🥰 Seamus and Steve are human princes and brothers, Aja and Krel are also loyalty but fae, the two races are at war at each other while love blossoms in between 💕💕 Jim is a chef assistant and Douxie is a human with magic that was taken in by the fae when he was abandoned as a child.

Here’s ako’s beautiful fanart about it! 😍😍 This is a Space Camp of course, with Aja/Jim/Steve along with it! It got pretty long... I had fun! 😂

Enjoy!! 💙💙💙

Summary: Humans and fae had been at war since forever, they hated each other, it was a fact. Yet his love, their love alone made reality extremely questionable, to the point Seamus didn't feel guilty about his choice anymore. He wasn't going to be miserable for eternity. Today, he was going to get his own happiness.

Read it on the AO3

His lungs were on fire, he had never run this much in his entire life. The forest seemed to be getting bigger around him, it widened his horizon, it blocked his feet from proceeding. It seemed to be doing everything in order to prevent him to go forward. His boots were dripping with dirt, the adherence was far beyond compromised at this point, it was a miracle that he hadn’t slipped a single time. Powerful voices were behind his back, getting further and further away. Swords meeting, shouts of war, everything turning into a mess of fire and hate because of him.

Only because his heart wanted to believe in this, in him, in them. Seamus would have been a liar if he had said the thought that this was a mistake hadn’t crossed his mind. Despite everything, despite honor and regret and all in between, there was only a desire of piece into his mind.

That possibility of joy resided only across that border.

Gosh, he had been there a million times now, but the trip had never felt longer. It stretched to infinity into his mind, between all that he was leaving behind and all the people he was never going to see again. He couldn’t shake away Steve’s strained smile for a single moment, as he gestured him to move forward while he dealt with their father’s guards. His own brother had given him the chance to escape, despite all the consequences coming along with it. This kingdom was ruled by a merciless ruler, that knew of power and greatness but not of people and kindness. The two of them had been born into this place, taught to always prioritize the bigger picture as in the outcome was always going to make up for the losses. It had occurred time later, too much time later perhaps, that an uncaring soul made sacrifices so much easier.

This was the proof. The fact that prince Seamus was being chased by the same soldiers that for years had been by his side, providing his protection and safety for his empire to come, showed just the level of hypocrisy of this world, where the moment someone was to do differently it was like calling upon himself a death wish.

His boot caught a massive root, the blonde tripped over mud, feeling it between his fingers. He gritted his teeth, struggling to get up, almost slipping again then proceeding.

Faster, faster, the border was still far.

He needed to get there. He needed to get to him, he-

His own scream was faster than the pain. His body couldn’t take it, after a life freed from physical pain and suffering. He was weak. His breath caught up when he found himself face into the ground again, his leg pulsing like mad. Steps were getting closer, fast and agile, and it filled his heart with dread. Seamus looked, up, recognizing immediately crest of the mole of this kingdom, granted only to the royal soldiers of the guard. It hurt madly that it belonged to a friend.

“L-Logan…” The archer narrowed his eyes, another arrow prepared. Despite the look of a warrior, his forehead was dripping with sweat. He wasn’t completely gone yet, Seamus had to believe that. “P-please, don’t do this to me! You know what he will do to me!”

Logan pressed his lips together, his hold clenching around his weapon.

“You called this upon yourself, you know that.”

“You don’t understand!”

“You’re right, I don’t. Because you were supposed to become king after him and make things better.” His voice was overflowing with bitterness. “You were supposed to solve everything!”

“I thought so too, then I realized it… I won’t be the one to make the difference.”

“Why are you saying this??” Tears were born on him, as they had been held back until now. “We used to dream about that, thinking that as soon as you were to take the throne, everything was going to turn out for the better! You are older than Steve, it was the natural course! You were going to help the kingdom, you were going to help me and my mother! But that was a lie, wasn’t it??” He closed his eyes, drops falling through his cheeks. “The king told me about your escape, how you are going to give out info to save your own skin so the fae will have mercy on your soul! You’ve gone too far, and as a soldier and a friend… I have to stop you.”

Seamus gritted his teeth, slowly lowering his eyes onto the wound. The arrow hadn’t gone deep, it had most likely struck a sensible point. Logan had been practicing his aim for years, stating that he could do a lot even when no one was looking, even when no one cared. If someone else had given him the entire speech his father had been poisoning the realm with, the blonde would have not cared.

This was not the case, so he grabbed the arrow and extracted before he could think of not doing it, letting out a strangled noise. The archer’s eyes widened. Seamus glared.

“What info would I give to the fae? That we are at war with each other? They know.” It hurt madly, but not as much as realizing that his friend had been turned against him because of his dad. Again. “They have their own problems, the only thing we have in common seems to be the awful monarchy currently in control, and you are the proof. At least I know Steve is still as stubborn as ever and has people that cares about him, enough not to let him make mistakes.”

The archer kept staring at him, as if he didn’t know him anymore, as they had been knowing each other of years without actually knowing a thing. Maybe that was true.

“You… you’re lying. You’re a prince, you hold informatio-”

“If I was any other person they would kill me at sight, you idiot!” His ankle was bleeding, he pressed his arm against it. Seeing his immaculate white sleeve turning red made him feel sick, and oddly relieved as well. “I am not going directly to them, I am not that stupid! I have no fighting experience, I am no diplomat, how would I even face them to be a snitch anyway? I am not betraying, I am running away!” Oh. Wow. He had never felt this good at screaming before. He was really going for it, he was escaping this cursed world.

Logan was agape, staring at him like he had passed away in front of him. His hands were trembling, the weapon was lowered slowly. A frown arrived, a welcomed one, because it always meant that he was thinking. At last, his friend was actually thinking.

“… that’s not what your father said.” Ah, he stopped calling him king. Good sign.

“You’re surprised that he can lie?” Seamus sighed, gritting his teeth at the burning of the wound. “I’m going to a secret place, protected by pixies. It is still at the board, but I will not betray.”

“But… why? Why are you running away?” He got closer to him, kneeling, taking out a cloth of some sort. He wrapped it around his wound, something he probably had experience with Steve. “I know that he’s very hard on you, in a way that wouldn’t be allowed if he wasn’t this powerful, but you’ve always put up with it. No matter how much it hurt.” He wasn’t that lost then. “Perhaps not in the name of your future, but you still kept yourself together for years. Why is it different now?” This, this was the perfect question.

With his pulsing leg, with his father’s guards on his traces to bring him back to that prison, with one of his oldest friend questioning him, Seamus smiled.

“I didn’t think there was a better choice. Something better… someone better.”

The forest was shaken by a blow of wind. Logan was staring at him in disbelief. For a moment, it almost felt like they were back in the gardens of the castle, laying down, blabbering about secrets and the future. The smile that appeared onto his friend was just like back then.

“Smart choice, as expected.” He put a hand over his bandaged wound. “… I’m sorry.”

Perhaps this world hadn’t taken away everything from him yet.

Then, when that minuscule moment of silence cleared up between them, the gallop of a horse grew steadily close. Seamus’ blood turned cold. The heavy, intimidating march of that mount, he would have recognized it everywhere. Bred for battle… no, bred in order to instill fear into the opponent, the realization that there was nowhere to run. The end had been determined the moment that march had stopped. Seamus had always been on the other side of that sword, assisting by his father’s side terrorized out of his mind but comforted by his own loyalty to the winning kingdom. How many years he had stalled this moment, knowing that he was only human and could only take this much? It was such a meaningless thought right now, as the horse finished his march right there.

His father got off, the thud reverberated. He was in full armor, that fancy suit as to appear mightier and better than anyone else. Those piercing blue eyes that Seamus had inherited were deadly and merciless, even more than usual, as they fell onto his offspring.

An exasperated sight left his throat.

“I wish I could say I am surprised by your behavior, son. Alas, I knew you were not meant for greatness, not you nor your brother. I cannot believe my own blood is such a disappointment!” He unsheathed the sword in a lazy gesture, almost as he didn’t have time to deal with this mess. With him. Like that was new. “Prince Seamus, you have been declared to be a traitor for the realm of Arcadia. You will be sentenced tomorrow at dawn. Guard Logan, bring him here.”

“No.”

Wow, if Seamus hadn’t been this scared for his life, he would have laughed out loud at his father’s shocked expression. Someone finally denying him something to his face, priceless.

“What?” And dangerous, so very dangerous. The archer glared.

“You lied to me, you told me the prince was a traitor but he did nothing of the sort! This was all in order to get rid of him, was it not??” He sounded so angry, furious: the carefree soldier that liked to flirt with the staff of the castle just to make them smile was unrecognizable right now. His father wasn’t moving. It felt even more terrifying. “I will not turn against him again, my loyalty resides in him and his brother. Consider me a traitor instead, ‘your highness’, because if you attack Seamus then I am your enemy.” He immediately took one of his arrows, pointing it.

Seamus couldn’t look away. Nothing but pride was filling his heart, hope and joy at seeing that there were more loyal people than he thought. Yet this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, he was the one risking everything, he and Steve for what they wanted. Not him, not their friend.

The king huffed, raising his sword.

“I will not judge such a will to die. Prepare yourself!”

“I always am. Stay behind him, Seamus.” He knew he couldn’t win at all, but he was there to do everything in order to help him out. He had never been more grateful for it. “Seamus, what are you…?” For this exact reason, he couldn’t do anything else.

The blonde smiled at him, a hand on his shoulder, focusing on the image of the castle.

“Thank you… and sorry.” Logan didn’t have time to scream before he disappeared.

Right after that, in the usual blue smoke that always came with his spells, Seamus found himself with his hands in the mud for the third time. This was bad, the teleportation had been more draining than he had thought. He was insanely proud of actually performing it right, hoping only that Logan was going to be rightfully teleported into the castle and not on a tree or something. He had never had this much control over his powers, Douxie’s lessons had definitely helped. Knowing his own value, his goal, and the people he really cared about and cared about him back was a huge motivation as well.

Once again, seeing his father this baffled, out of control, would have been his biggest satisfaction if only he wasn’t there to fight for his life and for his happiness. When the mystical smoke cleared up, an expression of pure horror contorted his grumpy face.

“You dare use magic?! You freak! How dare you bring such shame to our family! I will not associate with one of your kind, not now, not ever! You’re a disgrace!!”

Seamus actually snorted, stretching his arms. He had a bit energy left. It was going to have to do.

“You do know I’m not five anymore, right? I stopped caring about your approval ages ago.”

“You dare try to act tough in my presence?”

“I don’t have to show you anything. You know, I used to think my powers were actually something to be ashamed of, something that was going to get me killed.” He closed his eyes for a moment. The forest was chanting in a low tune, it was nothing like the side where the fae resided. There everything was overflowing with energy and life. “It turned out, keeping my real self hidden, that was what was really killing me, so slowly I didn’t even realize it.” He looked up, his father was still holding the sword in that mighty way that was only meant as a show. What a fool, Seamus knew that he had never struck a foe in his entire life. He was a commander, he was of big built and that helped, but he was no warrior. Just like himself. “So today… today I come to life, at last.”

He must had taken a bit of his brother’s love for dramatic speeches, he was the one who always did that whenever he had to train. It was also a great way to gain some time, while magic operated by tying around his father’s boots. It was petty, it was extremely childish, and Steve would have been so proud of him… hoping he was going to come out of this unscathed.

His father roared at him, trying to charge. With that, he was falling, making this the highlight of Seamus’ life. The might rock that was this man, the highest place he had aspired to be at for the longest time, was falling down into the mud.

The blonde turned away right in that moment, running, forcing his bad leg.

“SEAMUS!!!” His father’s thundering voice echoed through the entire forest.

When he was a child, his mother used to read him stories. It was around the time where Seamus had chosen knowledge while Steve had picked up a sword, drastically changing how their father wanted them to be raised as. Their education had become different, the time spent together as well, almost as they belonged to two different worlds. Their mother had been the reason why they had never drifted apart. Her books were about heroes, knights, princes and princesses, legends and history all mixed together until they disappeared. The most beautiful ones where the one with long descriptions, because his mother had the loveliest voice, calm and peaceful, that had the power to materialize the place into his mind and into his heart.

Perhaps before jumping into this risky decision Seamus would have liked to ask her, if she was the reason why he had never been like other humans, why he could feel magic while others couldn’t. Despite that doubt forever into his mind, all he could think right now was how much he wanted to tell her about this freedom, this feeling of determination. How running wildly like this felt like he was part of those stories, part of his own at last.

As the forest opened up a little more around him, and he pushed his leg to the limit while it was screaming in agony, he noticed the little details. The edges of the leaves, the shades onto the trunks, the blades of grass, they were all turning slightly blue. The feeling around was changing too.

“When the forest will start to turn into the color of the sky, you will know you are close.”

“If you have no ill intent as I know, the Glade will let you in.”

“We will meet there so please, make it out alive. Please.”

Seamus smiled, his eyes pinching. He could make it. He was going to make it.

Then it came, again the devastating galloping behind his back. His body froze, for two seconds, then he was turning around with his hands out. He didn’t have enough magic to fully defend himself now, he had started to learn new tricks quite late according to Douxie. He wanted to learn more, he was going to learn a lot more. He forced his concentration and his hands caught fire. It was flickering, he was gritting his teeth like mad to keep it lightened. As soon as the face of the animal appeared, running like mad towards him, he threw both hits towards its legs. The house neighed painfully, arching its back and then falling onto the ground.

His father had his hand raised before that, a moment before he was to fall from the horse. Seamus screamed again, whimpering with anger as he caught sight of the dagger into his side. It had his crest on it, carved along the handle, almost as a reminder that he was never going to forget that pain, this feeling of inferiority coming from his own family. His frustration wanted to take it out, his rationality blocked him right on time.

He held himself up, as his father was doing the same with eyes bloodshot.

“You will not escape me, you hear me?? You are a freak, a dark spot on my family’s honor, and I will not let you leave for anyone else to know!!” He was holding the sword like he wanted to beat him up with it, he really had never followed a proper formation. He wanted to make others fear him, but his superiority made him feel like he was beyond peasants’ training.

Seamus wasn’t surprised. He was frustrated, mad, because he was so close and he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He couldn’t give up now, no, never.

He took the deepest breath. Nature was still by his side. He smiled.

“Scared than I might actually be a threat?”

“I knew you were a mistake, I knew you were nothing but a nuisance!”

“Oh spare me that, you never needed a reason to despise me, it had always come awfully naturally to you! At least I didn’t go through the same punishments Steve had during his own training, something you never even went through yourself.” He was most likely worsening his situation, but he didn’t care anymore. He had lived a life being as careful as possible trying not to anger him, because he thought that there was never going to be anything worse than not have his approval. It turned out there never was in the first place. “You want to kill me? Try. I will not go down easy.”

His father was breathing heavily, his nostrils were wide and fuming. His entire face was red, his sword was shaking into his sword out of madness alone. He was the embodiment of his worst nightmares from when he was a kid. Now, all his thoughts were on those beautiful blue eyes popping out of the dark, his arrogant laugh from whenever he was right.

Seamus raised his hand. No branch came up. He fought back the tears because he didn’t want this, he wasn’t going to end it like this. He had never wanted something this badly before.

The king started to march towards him. Every step felt like the tick of a clock.

This wasn’t the end.

This couldn’t be the end.

“You are not getting out of his forest alive. You are not strong enough to defeat me.” He was right, but Seamus was never going to admit it. He tightened his fists, hoping, praying that he could do something. The familiar feeling of hopelessness was starting to burn from his stomach. “I will erase you, just like I will erase every single scam that contaminates this realm! And as soon as it will be done, we will finally take over the rest of the kingdom from those dirty fae!!” This man was the real illness, the poison that was making the entire realm sick to its roots. He wished he didn’t care only to hope he was going to implode with his own sick ideals, but that wasn’t reality. He was going to bring everything with him. Seamus couldn’t stop him. “I have been waiting my entire life for it, and if you think you can stop me then- What is this?!?”

Oh. Would you look at that.

The prince wished that, at this critical moment, he was to acquire some superior magical powers in order to defeat this man once and for all. It would have definitely made up for all of his frustration, plus telling this tale would have been nicer. Alas, this was his story but not a legend, it would have not been fair, especially for such an inexperienced wizard like him. Then again, he didn’t have to be the main hero of the situation. He could take being a supporting character.

One that knew extremely well about that instrument that was playing in the air, carved from the fallen horn of a dragon and enchanted by Douxie himself, so that whenever a certain brother of his was in need of help it was going to be heard from everyone, everywhere. That meant that he was okay. That meant that Logan was okay and had warned him just in time.

Seamus immediately grinned, feeling a huge weight falling down, while the king was looking around, even more fuming and even more confused.

“You know, I might not be able to stop you, so why don’t you take someone your own size? Or maybe…” Her timing was impeccable as always. The Queen-in-waiting of the fae arrived diving in between the crowns of the trees and struck her hit right as he was talking, disarming the clueless human. “… way stronger?” Her blonde hair was flowing into the wind, her blue armor was so shining it reflected nature itself. The king backed away, eyes falling onto the sword now on the ground, then onto his new opponent.

Aja landed in front of the prince, her rapier sharp and ready, her eyes completely focused.

“If that is the request, you have found your foe, your highness.” She looked definitely pissed, which was to be expected since Steve had only ever used the horn in dead or alive situations. Her intentions were probably to finish with him and move forward to her beloveds. “Although do not be mistaken, this is not a fight you are able to win. Perhaps you untrained and arrogant human might be able to take on a wizard while hurt and lacking energy to defend himself,” No filter, like everyone in her family. “But I have trained since I have memory in order to protect those I care about. My strength, my motivation, my ability, you are nothing in comparison.” Her determination was shining through. It made every single word count.

The king stumbled onto the ground to retrieve his sword, but from his eyes it was clear that he also knew what was going to happen to him. As soon as he was up, he ran towards his horse, still down lowly lamenting, and grabbed something from his bag.

Another horn. His face contorted into a horrific smile.

“You think you are the only one that can call help?? I will not lose to a lowlife like a fae, not with an army by my side!” He blew in, Seamus held his breath… nothing came out. “What-”

“You found my present, your majesty!” Perhaps he didn’t have as much of a joyful reaction as Aja at hearing that voice, but it definitely made him smile. “Since you’ve been throwing away all my freshly made bread for years because it’s hard or something, I thought that maybe I could throw away all my sourdough in the first place. I hope you’re proud.” Especially since, as soon as the chef assistant Jim appeared from the woods, he was bringing along his brother, while holding an arm around his neck for support. “The useless stick together I guess?”

Steve was red from laughing, shaking his head.

“This was so petty, I taught you well!” He kissed him on the cheek, making him blush very vividly, then he turned to their father. “Can’t call your friends for dinner? Too bad, dad!”

He was okay. He was snappy, cocky, and arrogant. His brother was okay.

It took maybe two seconds for Aja to let out a joyful scream, take flight and immediately launch herself over the two, managing to hug them without tackling them. Steve snickered even louder without moving, his arm wasn’t probably at its best right now. Jim grinned widely, placing his free hand over her back, whispering something that made her giggle even more. Seamus didn’t dare to move, not to tempt his bad leg, not to ruin a moment that was definitely not his. As soon as he crossed his brother’s brown eyes and got the biggest smile, he knew that it was fine. The both of them, they were going to be fine.

The king was roaring like an animal, pushing his fingers inside the horn to free it from the sticky substance. He backed away, staring with disgust at the three of them. Aja was immediately in front of her beloveds, rapier out, daring him with the eyes.

“You are not going to win, human king. Surrender if you may.”

“Never! My guards will arrive anyway, it is only a matter of time!”

“They’ll find a sad old man on his own butt after being beaten up, then.” Steve snickered, turning to Seamus. “What are you waiting for, an invitation? Go get him, come on!”

Ah, that was why it hadn’t felt real before, their goodbye at the castle.

“Steve…”

“I’m not kidding Seam, come on.” Despite his conditions he extracted his sword, pointing it at his own dad while Jim was relentlessly supporting his weight. “I found my own happiness, all the good stuff mom always told us about. Time for you to do the same.” They had talked about this, that they could had gone together, as brothers. But unlike Seamus, Steve had more to hold on to, he had Jim and his life, and Aja was ready to fight alongside him.

He really found a nice place to be in. Seamus nodded, looking at the fae and the assistant chef.

“Look after him. He can be a lot.” A murmured ‘Look who’s talking’ made him laugh. Jim nodded vividly, keeping himself up like an actual warrior.

“He’s worth all of it. Have a good life, my prince.

“Of course, until the very end.” Aja smiled at him. “And you… make him happy.”

That was a promise. Seamus started to run right there, trying to make as much distance as he could from himself and that place. One last peak made him see his father one last time, red and fuming like a baby, the armor dirty and covered in dirt and mud, with his fingers covered in sourdough. This wasn’t an honorable man, this was barely a man to begin with. His entire mind was contorted and was probably never going to come back to his senses. The prince didn’t care anymore, and it was the best he had ever felt in his entire life.

The forest widened some more in front of him, this time he knew he wasn’t far. When a different horn was played in the air his breath hitched, that prank was of course only gonna get them so far. He knew they were going to do it though. Aja wanted to unify their kingdoms, she wanted to do what Seamus’ parents and her own had never been able to. It was going to take a lot of time, but if anyone had the patience and the enthusiasm, it was her.

She was the hero of the story. He was there to accomplish his own victory.

One of his legs gave up on him. Fourth time today, he was beyond annoyed. His side wasn’t collaborating, the dagger was still there. Seamus bit his lip, looking at his hand. It was going to hurt, but he needed to keep going. He really hoped he could do this much.

He focused all he had left inside over the palm, frustration, anger, despair, and soon it started to emit heat. Nowhere near his usual flames, but it was enough. He took a deep breath, held onto the handle of the dagger and pulled it out. He screamed. Then he lifted his shirt and put his boiling hand over the wound. He screamed again, louder, forcing his palm to stay where he was. Tears streamed through his cheeks. The magic left him even more tired, the pain was shocking him awake. It lasted nothing and forever. He looked down. It stopped bleeding. It was most likely going to scar, but he didn’t care. As long as he was alive.

It took even too much time to get up again. He couldn’t be sure that there weren’t any guards on their own chasing after him. He picked up the pace, he was doing better. It still hurt like mad, and he was exhausted, but he wasn’t going to pass out in a place like this, not right now. The land was getting even bluer around him, the leaves, the branches, even the ground he was stepping onto. The air was fresh but not cold, comfortably cool over his skin.

Then he noticed it, because it was like a mirror in the middle of the woods. It traced the celestial vegetation all around, and the image of a human who looked like he had been to war. Seamus swallowed, getting closer, feeling fresh air coming from it somehow.

He raised his hand, expecting a portal.

It was a wall.

His eyes widened. He pressed some more, feeling resistance, like it was a legit mirror, and he was stupidly think there was something on the other side.

“No… no, please!” He put both hands, pushing forward. “I have to get in, please!!” He felt so weak, so weak and pathetic. He could see it all. His smile, his eyes. His sharpness, his way of being, him existing. Everything was so close and it wasn’t fair. “Open! Open for me! I command you!!” His voice seemed to bound against the surface. His reflection started to cry. His cheeks felt wet. “Please… please, I have to be there…” He let his tired body lean against the surface, it wasn’t flat, but it was there. “I have to… I want to…” He had been fought for so long against his own father and now… he didn’t care. For revenge, his own pride hurt, how he could had said to him the worst ever conceived. He didn’t care. He just needed to go. “… I need to see him.”

It felt like a push towards the right direction. In reality, the resistance had disappeared, and he had fallen forward. Somehow his very trembling legs had managed to save him from just another ridiculous fall today, although he felt absolutely no strength inside of them. It was like oscillating onto two sticks. He was up by will, a pinch of pain, and a lot of despair that had almost disappeared the moment he had opened his eyes.

When he did, it was bright. There was a completely different forest in front of him, of a green so bright it looked like a sun. He could smell lots of flowers, the air was almost unnaturally fresh, the ground he was on was so tender it was almost pillowy.

He stepped forward. A purple flower moved, a pink one and an orange one as well. Perhaps it should had occurred him that those didn’t fly, but he was at his limit.

“Ah, human! How did he get in??”

“No Mary, look! It’s the human prince!”

“Oh no, are you okay? Quick, let’s get Douxie!”

Before he could even think to make sense of how those plants talked, even though someone with magic like him wasn’t even supposed to be surprised, the world started to spin. Everything was misty and unfocused, his sight was getting extremely nitid and unnaturally unfocused in sequence. He moved another step, seeing another flower on the ground, a red one. This time even his tired brain noticed that his arrow wound was open and dropping.

The dizziness came altogether.

“Hey, you made it! I thought my lovelies were just playing with me, you were so quick- Oh, you look terrible!” Ah, that direct calming voice he recognized. Even in the fog Douxie’s blue hair were easy to notice. “Hang on, you’re gonna be okay, you hear me? It will be okay!”

Something happened after that, he didn’t remember what. Only that it had probably been his fifth fall, the only one he had allowed himself to do willingly. Douxie must had grabbed him before touching the ground, because he had abandoned himself to unconsciousness without a single pain in his mind. He had lost sensibility to his leg, he was so exhausted he couldn’t feel a thing. All he perceived was a shifting of place, then a sudden humidity around him, of a mineral kind, not unpleasant. More flowery scents arrived, while his body still refused to cooperate. It felt so nice. It felt so nice to finally rest, but he didn’t want to. Not yet. Not yet.

He had hold onto lucidity with all he had left, for a time he was not aware of. Then, at some point, he had felt someone holding his hand, and a drop falling onto his palm.

“You will be fine, my love. I am here now.”

It could had been a dream, a pain induced hallucination. His mind and heart didn’t think so.

***

When consciousness came back Seamus still had his eyes closed. He pondered if it was actually a good idea waking up, because despite his mind still being a little fuzzy, he was sure he was in a pretty bad condition, and it didn’t sound appealing to feel all that. Then it occurred him where he was, what had happened, and nothing was going to make him fall asleep again.

He opened his eyes, seeing the ceiling of a cavern. It shined of little sparkling minerals all over, making the rock look like a glowing blue mosaic. There was the sound of water from a far, a little waterfall perhaps, for the rest it was plain nature. It felt like the quietest place of the world, but all the doubts hurrying into his mind made it chaos in any case. Slowly, hoping into self-healing powers he never had and most likely was never going to have, he got up on a sitting position. Huh, it didn’t hurt… at all, actually.

Looking down, he found himself without his shirt, with his side showing a nasty scar. His pants had cuts everywhere, from the forest and the people, but his leg felt mostly okay.

Overall, he looked pretty good. He took a deep breath, and the smell made him gasp.

“Peonies…” They were nothing like the ones his mother had cultivated in their garden, they were glowing and changing color constantly, from red to yellow then green blue purple and over again. He had been laying down on a bed made of those. “Huh, I knew they symbolized good health, didn’t know on which extent.” This place was truly magical. He could feel his own soul regenerating. He touched a flower while focusing, it raised a little growing a leaf. He smiled.

Then he turned, and his heart skipped a beat. There was another bed station right next to him. An empty cloth lied down, a bag made of leaves, and a few books piled.

Seamus stayed frozen, looking helplessly. Then he grinned, jumping onto his feet and running.

As he had suspected, the cavern was situated close to a little waterfall. There was a pond of the most crystalline water he had ever seen in his life, reflecting the trees that were still sheltering from the sun. There was a game of reflections into the water, shining through colors and different shades. Beautiful, but nothing in comparison of the most gorgeous fae in the world.

Krel was kneeling next to the pond, filling in a little vase with water. His hair was covered in the light shapes that the trees were reflecting all over. His eyes were low and a little gloomy, following the stream of water that was filling the container. His clothes were a little messed up like his, meaning his own trip had probably been quite difficult as well. He was there, he was right there at last, keeping his promise no matter what. He got up right at that moment, sighing a lonely breath before turning back towards the cavern.

When their eyes met, it was like a calling. Their own way of communicating, because they had been both taught to repress everything in order to meet expectations, yet it was too much having each other to contain what they had.

The fae prince carelessly let go of the vase. His eyes teared up as he immediately went flying towards him. Seamus beamed at him, opening his arms right on time to take in the hug.

They made it. They were here together. They actually made it.

“Do not scare like me again, ever again!” How he had missed this voice, how much he had longed for this moment. It felt like all the rush and the pain had been already worth it. “You have promised me your life and I have promised you mine, you won’t get out of our agreement this easily!” He was pressing his wet eyes onto his shoulder, almost clawing his back closer to him. “I… I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” His voice dropped, getting more silent.

Seamus shook his head, reaching for his shoulders to gently push him away. Gosh, they were so slim, he was so fragile, especially in comparison to his sister. They were both vulnerable, not made for the battle, carrying too much on their backs. Meant for something else.

They looked at each other again. His tears were brushing the glowing marks on his face. The blonde wiped them away with his thumb.

“You didn’t hurt me, fat- well, the king did.” This wasn’t about him. “You saved me, Krel.”

“You saved me. From living a life as a merciless monster, unable to understand that there are no good fae and bad humans.” He embraced him again, hiding his head in the crook of his shoulder. “You gave me reality, something that might not be easy to obtain for the other fae. Me and Aja are lucky enough to have found people that opened our eyes.” It had been a reciprocating situation, they had both realized many things about each other’s worlds. The mention of those people sent a shiver through his back, there was no way Krel hadn’t noticed. “The son of the human duke had sent a messenger, apparently he had befriended a dwarf. It has a particular name, at least three vocals in it, sounds quite painful. Anyway, he said that they are all fine.”

“… for now.” Krel nodded. They parted, still holding hands. Seamus smiled sadly. “Well, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy. All we can do is hold on to it.” He knew they were on the same page, he had never trusted anything more. The fae was glowing. He looked wonderful. “It was a big step this one. We can focus on this for now, right?” This was nowhere near over. Their kingdoms were still divided, their worlds were still apart, there was much to be done.

Even so, looking at how his eyes lightened up at him, smiling like it was the best future he could had asked for, it felt easier to hope for the better.

“It sounds good.” He stepped closer. “I love you, Seamus.”

Seamus grinned, brushing their noses together.

“I love you too, Krel.” His mind, his body, his heart, they all moved forward.

He had learned so much about himself and his world from this person, every important part reconnected to him and him only. There was a longing, a connection, and whenever they kissed it felt like reaching out for that bond to hold onto it, to feel how good it was. He had always smelled like wild flowers, today it mixed with cut grass and effort. Krel laced his hands around his neck and Seamus knew what was to happen, holding onto him immediately. He had never told him, but whenever the fae prince was particularly lost into the moment, he started to float, bringing him along. It was a magical experience that was only theirs.

The blonde liked to think that this was meant to be. That they had built it together, slowly and steadily, with patience and effort, but that their meeting had been played out perfectly by destiny. He wondered if that would have been the same in every other universe, if their lives were to play in another context, with them as completely different people.

Perhaps so. He wanted to think so. No matter the place, as long as it was the two of them, that was where they were supposed to be.

Their world.

#space camp #space camp week #toa space camp #kreamus #toa kreamus #krel x seamus #krel tarron #seamus johnson #toa #tales of arcadia #3below #toa 3below #toa fic #toa fanfiction #fic #fanfiction

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pluviophile-bookworm · 4 years ago

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AWAE 2x9 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

This review is dedicated to Dalila Bela, who turns 19 today. Happy birthday!

After a long wait, there she is at last - Muriel Stacy, decorating her new home with potato stamps. What a lovely way to show she is a kindred spirit. She’s basically like an older Anne.

Marilla and Anne utter the same words upon passing Miss Stacy, who is cycling in the opposite direction at top speed - ‘My heavens!’ - except their intonations are so different. Marilla is shocked at the sight of the unconventional-looking stranger, while Anne is in awe of her, and especially the fact that she’s wearing trousers. I don’t think the women of Avonlea, be they progressive mothers or not, won’t be so fascinated with her, though.

And again, Miss Stacy acts exactly like an older Anne, going on and on about potatoes and tardiness and motorbikes before she’s even caught a breath. I can’t wait for Anne to finally meet her. And that concludes the cold open.

I don’t care what Prissy and Josie, or their mothers, say about Miss Stacy- I’m with Anne on this one. They shouldn’t judge their new teacher before they’ve met her up close. She’ll warm her way into their hearts, I’m sure. I actually know it for a fact.

I simply cannot believe Billy brought a gun to school and is openly proclaiming he’s about to kill an animal, a living being, with it. And it’s not just any animal - it’s the fox, Anne’s fox. What has it done to him that he’s so personally violent towards it?

Again, Gilbert alone is the voice of reason (unlike season 3 Gilbert, who is the most confused individual I’ve ever seen and has the eyebrows to prove it). ‘There’s no fox here, so how about you put the gun away?’ It’s as if he speaks for me.

Who does Billy think he is, calling his teacher ‘little lady’? He’s lucky she’s not Phillips, otherwise he wouldn’t get away with such disrespectful behaviour.

Once again Anne uses the exact same words as someone else, but with a different intonation. Prim and proper Tillie’s ‘Oh my goodness!’ is one of disapproval (which she’s not to blame for, that’s probably just what her parents have taught her), while Anne’s is an expression of pure admiration and fascination. [Side note: Let’s put things into perspective, though - what would you think if your new teacher showed up to school with no bra on, on her first day at that? I don’t really know what to think of corsets anymore, so I’m not sure how to take this. You tell me.]

What, now Matthew and Jerry, two of my favourite AWAE men, want to catch the fox too? I understand it’s stealing people’s chickens, but hey, a fox must eat too, and it’s not like it can get its food in another way.

What’s happening to Bash? Is farm life not his speed? I’m worried about him, I hope he’s alright.

For this next scene, the introductions, I’ll insert a note from when I first watched this episode. I notice I’ve been doing that a lot lately, but well, it seems I’ve got quite a lot of first impression notes on this season written down, so why not make them public now, here where it’s appropriate? Here goes:

And, just as I was fascinated, things got dramatically bad. Anne wouldn’t stop saying quite private things about everyone who spoke, and Miss Stacy reprimanded her for spreading gossip, resulting in her being unable to come up with words to describe herself (the method used for introductions was everyone would use words starting with their initials to describe themselves. I really wanted to know what Anne would have said about herself, as nobody else seemed to struggle much with the exercise (although I myself always do when asked to do it).

Alright, now I’d like to add something to this. When Ruby describes herself as ‘romantic’ and looked for a G word for ‘Gillis’, I could swear she thought of a certain young man right to her left - heck, she even looked at him before quickly blurting out ‘girl’. Well, yeah, she is a girl. But she’s also defining herself through Gilbert too much. I hope she knows how much potential she has beyond him. Besides, he only has eyes for Anne. I wish we’d got another season so we could see how far Ruby and Moody go. I liked them, but we saw too little of them together. #renewannewithane

Ok, but... it was like Miss Stacy just finished Anne’s sentence. ‘Ruby has a crush on...’ ‘Gilbert Blythe?’ Well, yes, but that’s not what we’re talking about. See, I’m noticing details I did not deem significant enough to note down the first time around. This is what rewatches are for.

Rachel Lynde needs Marilla’s help. That’s a first. Oh, well, it’s rumours, what else. She’s against Miss Stacy. I really don’t like her right now.

No, seriously, what is happening to Bash?

Of course, what the mothers of Avonlea fail to see is that, female or not, trousers or nor, corset or not, Miss Stacy is much more capable of teaching the young minds of Avonlea school than her predecessor. Or at least she’s much more willing to educate them properly. Of course she’ll tutor Gilbert. And Anne will soon find her way into her good graces. I hope. Nay, I know it.

‘Appalling, stupid, clueless...’ this is what I hoped wouldn’t happen, but it happened anyway. Now Anne is beating herself up for the scrape she got into by complete accident. Gosh, I hope someone can fix this.

From my old notes: And again, Cole knows how to fix things, and he does so, brilliantly I would say. Also, with the way he goes out into the nature, raises his hands and shouts out “Come to me, Muse!”, I can totally see him being a pagan... and who’s to say he’s not? I mean, Anne has the makings of one too, remember the Beltane ritual in season 3?

Rachel’s only job seems to be to stick her nose in other people’s business. She has no right to go around asking about Muriel’s marital status and whether she wants to be an old maid. But as anyone who’s watched the full series knows, this will be carried over into season 3.

Seriously, Rachel right now reminds me of Anne earlier with all the gossip, and I see now why she (Anne) made such a bad impression on Miss Stacy. Unfortunately, she (Miss Stacy) cannot assign Rachel Lynde an essay.

Anne’s mind is all taken over by the fox... so much that she’s fallen asleep over her papers... and now, disaster after disaster lead to a small fire, which grows into a bigger fire. If Anne’s essay burns in it, I’ll literally cry. I know a thing or two about lost work. Why, half of this very post I had to write a second time after my computer decided to restart the page with the unsaved draft open. But hey, this is not about me.

So I guess they’ve figuratively and literally forced Miss Stacy into a corset. That’s sad. But I see she’s not giving up on her unique identity.

Oh, great, now the found brothers are fighting. I guess it turns out Bash’s problem is he’s inexperienced in farming and he needs help, but Gilbert is pursuing his own future now and doesn’t seem to care all that much. I feel bad for Bash. But we know Gilbert will stay at least another year and Bash will figure farming out by the time he has to leave.

Ah, I see Anne is feigning sickness so as not to go back to Miss Stacy after yesterday’s fiasco. Well, I’d do the same if I were her, but I’m not quite sure that’s the best solution to the problem at hand. Marilla’s suggestion seems much better to me. Going together so Anne has someone to vouch for her... reasonable and concerned like a true mother.

I see Bash is trying to figure out horse-riding on his own. It looks tough. But he can manage it.

It’s a shame Jerry won’t help Anne with the trap... but well, he was promised good money, and his large family is so poor... the ends sort of justify the means here. Still, Matthew is not in the right to plan on skinning the fox for money.

Gosh, things are heating up between Shirbert. Anne seems to be all the more determined to find and develop her vocation now that Gilbert is working on his. And he doesn’t seem to care much about her feelings right now, being so busy studying and all. But I wonder how this whole thing really makes him feel.

Hey, there are the potato light bulbs! The first science lessons Miss Stacy teaches the class. And they never forget it. How inspiring!

Hey, I just realised something. In her ramble in the cold open, Miss Stacy mentioned that you can use potatoes for a lot of purposes... well, here’s the second one she demonstrates in this episode. Stamps and... lighting a bulb.

Marilla, who took up Miss Stacy’s offer to stay and observe, seems to be a new supporter of the young teacher. See? If people only gave her a chance and saw what she does and how she does it, she might soon be a hit in town. But no, some choose to condemn her instead, as if she’s ever done them wrong. Just like the fox. Except the fox stole some chickens. Miss Stacy is perfectly innocent.

And... poor clumsy Moody had to ruin everything just as Rachel and the ProgressiveTM mothers came in. Too bad. But hey, it’s him who recalled this very first lesson later on when they were graduating, isn’t it?

Hey, Bash has gone to see Mary. Things are getting serious. I guess.

Alas, the mothers are not too pleased with how the lesson turned out. Luckily, Marilla was there to see the whole thing from beginning to end and can support Miss Stacy in front of the rest of the women. And it seems Gilbert and Anne are ready to step in and defend her as well. On their second day with her. That speaks volumes.

Oh, so he’s visiting Mary to talk about Gilbert. But he also talks about himself and his idea to go deep into farming. His story is truly an inspiring one. And also, he’s staying with Mary for supper. As I said, things are getting serious.

Anne decided to show Miss Stacy the story clubhouse... nice. But she’s made another blunder in doing so. She’s forgotten Cole is hiding there from his parents. And now they’ll force him into farming again... as my younger self said when I saw this for the first time, ‘this episode is one of the most devastatingly dramatic ones of this series – ever. What a way to lead up to the season finale’. I think that says it all.

Ah, yes, nobody told Gilbert that Bash wouldn’t be home for supper this evening. Too bad... now he’ll think Bash has run away on him. Meanwhile, Bash is having a good time with Mary. But there’s no way for Gilbert to know that. How unfortunate.

One shot, one gunshot and... wait, it seems the fox has not been killed yet. But the poor clubhouse... Billy is the worst person in this series, hands down. I can’t even. I’m crying. Real tears. Right now.

See, Anne’s blunder was not telling Miss Stacy about Cole. After all, she swore her to secrecy. But it was a blunder nonetheless because Miss Stacy takes her duty as a teacher more seriously than her promise to Anne. If only she’d known the full story... Cole might have been saved.

Miss Stacy riding with Harmon Andrews... I wonder what Rachel, aka the Avonlea yellow pages, will make of that.

‘Sometimes you just have to use your imagination.’ This is powerful because it comes from Marilla. Also, perhaps this is the hidden sense of humour that L.M.Montgomery talked about in the book, which I’m currently rereading.

I can’t, I just can’t. Now Cole feels betrayed by Anne, and Anne is devastated about the clubhouse.... and the women of Avonlea are against Miss Stacy, and Matthew disappointed Anne... can nobody be happy in this episode? It’s truly tragical and devastating. I should not have opted for rewatching it right before going to bed, on a school night at that. How will I sleep now?

Gosh, Cole really has had it now. I’m not saying Billy Andrews did not deserve it (he did and he does), but violence is never the answer. Still, I guess it’s justified now. Too bad it will probably lead to even more trouble for Cole. See, even he’s scared of what he’s done. He surely didn’t mean for it to go that far. And to the creators - this is no way to end an episode.

Let’s sum up: we meet Miss Stacy; intonation matters; the fox is in danger; Billy the bully has a weapon now - how bad can things get?; Bash struggles with farming; Anne accidentally makes a bad impression on a kindred spirit; appalling, stupid, clueless; ‘Come to me, Muse!’; Rachel Lynde sticks her nose into things that are not her business - what else is new; potato light bulbs; Bash visits Mary; the clubhouse is destroyed; Anne accidentally betrays Cole, leading to dramatic consequences; a disastrous ending to a devastating episode.

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dilliebar · 5 years ago

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I Don’t Want to Talk About It: A Dillie Fic

Hey guys! I wrote another Ellie/Dina fanfic, hopefully it’ll make your day a little better among all the hate out there right now. Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977564

Months after their first kiss, Ellie and Dina still haven't talked about it. Eventually the tension rises, and eventually, something has to break.

A month into summer, and Ellie was already done with partying, drinking, and pretty much the entire scene of teenagers making bad decisions. While she would be inside reading one of her beloved comics or just outside of Jackson hunting with nothing but her bow at her side, everyone else her age would probably be out somewhere hooking up or getting wasted. But despite her differences, everyone still had the responsibility of going out on patrol once in a while, and today was her turn to go on a two-day patrol with Dina.

For Ellie it was a relief. The two of them were almost polar opposites when it came to social interaction, and if she had to show up to yet another one of those parties Dina dragged her to only to end up walking home alone again, she would probably feed herself to a clicker.

Seemingly for Dina, however, the patrol wasn’t on her mind at all.

“I swear Jesse just set this up so we couldn’t go to the bonfire tonight.”

Ellie remained silent as the two of them tracked along on their horses, Dina going on and on about her jealous ex-boyfriend and how out-to-get-her he was. The taller girl couldn’t help but notice the little tinge of something in her chest at the way her friend was talking about him. Was it jealousy? No, it couldn’t be.

“I mean really, you’ve noticed it too, right?”

She continued to stare off into space, caught in her thoughts until the sudden silence made Ellie realize that Dina was awaiting an answer.

“Oh. I dunno,” she shrugged, “we haven’t been out in a while, and there’s a party pretty much every night. We’d have to miss something at some point.”

Dina hummed in agreement.

After their first kiss at the dance a few months before, neither of them really brought it up, except the one time when Dina practically forced Ellie to rate it on a scale from 1-10, which only resulted in her sarcastic response of “three”.

Sometimes she could feel the tension between them, but whether it was a good or bad tension was yet to be determined. Ellie was never too good at reading the mood when it came to flirting, and putting off the conversation only seemed to make the tension become thicker and thicker until she almost felt that they were pushing each other apart like the same ends of different magnets.

She often questioned if it was all in her head, but the more Dina talked about Jesse, the more she was convinced that it wasn’t.

Eventually the two rolled up to their destination: a small rural town by the name of Wilson just a little bit west of Jackson. It was a quaint town, but the amount of farming equipment made it a popular spot to scavenge for spare parts and fuel, and despite its appearance, it actually held a few nice shops in the middle. Ellie and Dina had never been there before, but from what they’d heard they would probably come back with a decent amount of supplies.

They roamed down the main road for a bit, keeping an eye out for any major gold-mines.

“Everything actually looks pretty looted.” Ellie commented, and it was true. From what was marked on the map, which was practically nothing, and what little was left of the bare machinery, there wasn’t really much that the two of them could take back to Jackson. At least, that’s what Ellie thought, anyway.

“Hey look! Over there.”

Ellie’s eyes followed Dina’s pointed finger over to what looked to be an old, grown-over antique store. Part of the roof was caved in, with cracks in the walls running up each side of the building. Sure enough, it wasn’t crossed out on the map, but Ellie wasn’t convinced.

“That place looks like a death trap” she laughed.

“Oh come on, it doesn’t look that bad,” Dina soothed, “We’ll stick to the non-caved in part, how about that?”

Ellie shook her head, “Lead the way.”

The two tied up their horses to the bike rack outside and began to look for a way in, but alas, the front door was blocked off from the inside, and the back entrance was locked with a keypad, because of course it was. Breaking the glass windows wasn’t too good of an idea, either, considering the fact that they had no clue what kind of infected were in there, and they were already low on ammunition as it was.

Dina turned to the taller girl, “I think there might only be one way in.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow and contemplated for a minute before realizing what she meant.

“No.” she stated firmly.

“But-”

“There’s no way that you can make me walk on top of that thing, all for some glorified alarm clocks and maybe a teapot.”

“Come on, maybe there’s some cool comics in there.” Dina tempted.

“Dude.”

They both fell silent, each waiting for the other to do something. It was moments like this when Ellie had no clue what the shorter girl was thinking, if they were just joking around or if they were actually having a disagreement. It was the kind of tension that had surrounded them since their kiss, and it was infuriating.

Ellie looked at Dina, their eyes meeting in a tension-filled glance. But she could never look deep into those brown pools for long, and after a brief moment she turned back towards her horse to grab the map.

“Listen, let’s just keep looking, okay? I’m sure there’s some more stuff out-”

But Dina wasn’t listening, and when Ellie turned around, she was halfway up the rusted ladder on the side of the building.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, not sure whether she should follow the girl into that building she just knew would get one or both of them hurt or killed, or just decide to stick by the horses, trusting that Dina could handle herself regardless of what was in that creepy ass excuse for a shop.

But the latter didn’t seem like an option.

Fuck it.

Ellie raced up the ladder as if her life depended on it, her hands gripping the rough rungs one after the other, but when she got to the roof, her friend was nowhere to be seen. “Dina?” she called through the collapsed part of the roof, but yet there was no response. On one hand, she couldn’t hear any obvious sounds of any infected, but the lack of Dina’s voice still worried her to no end.

She could see that the collapsed part of the roof sloped violently downward into some knocked-over bookcases, with various hardcovers littering the hardwood floor. The rest of the room, unlit by the opening, was dark, and even with her flashlight Ellie couldn’t see where in the damn hell Dina was among all the leftover junk that no one bothered to take.

Ellie called out to the girl again, with still no response, but with the squinting of her eyes she could make out a still figure in the back of the store, downed and unconscious.

“Shit shit shit.”

That’s when, without thinking twice, she took a step forward, and the ceiling cracked under her. She quickly lost her footing and before she knew it, she tumbled down the opening in the roof before her back hit the pile of books and all of the air left her lungs. It was a hefty fall, maybe ten feet or so, but after remembering why she was down there in the first place she quickly recovered.

Ellie grabbed for her flashlight without any luck, got up, and brushed herself off, ignoring the pain in her back and beginning to make her way to the back of the room where she saw the younger girl. Her attempts to call out for Dina were met with nothing but silence.

She approached slowly, her arms out in front of her, making sure she didn’t run into anything in the dark and that there weren’t any infected lurking around the hundred-year-old antiques before she finally reached down.

But the arm she was touching was cold and hard, almost like plastic.

And that’s when the head fell off.

“BOO!”

Ellie fell over in shock, with a sudden beam of light shown in her face. When she looked back down at the figure, she realized her mistake.

A fucking mannequin.

She looked up at the person who held that familiar voice; a voice she would know anywhere.

“What the fuck, Dina?!”

Dina turned the flashlight out of Ellie’s eyes to reveal her pretty much dying from laughter. She was fine, without even a scratch.

“You totally should’ve seen your face!”

Ellie got up off the ground for the second time that day, too shocked and annoyed by the situation to even respond. She stormed off back to the pile of books in an attempt to find her flashlight, and Dina non-hesitantly followed.

Ellie knew it was a joke. She knew that this was the playful banter and stupid pranks that they had engaged in together before all this tension began to build. It was a fun thing, but eventually something had to snap.

“See? I told you this place wasn’t that ba-” “Dude, it could’ve been that bad!”

Ellie turned around sharply and looked Dina dead in the eye, her own filled more with concern and confusion than anger. The shorter girl was taken aback, never having seen a rise out of Ellie this abrupt before. Neither of them knew what to say, and so Dina asked.

“What’s your problem?”

The taller girl scoffed, “What’s my problem?”

“Yes, dude. You’ve been all weird for weeks!”

“I’ve been weird?! At least I don’t drag girls to random parties every night just to leave them hanging and make them awkwardly stand in the corner!”

Dina crossed her arms, “I’ve been flirting with you every time, you dumbass! You’re just too blind to see it!”

Now it was Ellie who asked.

“What?”

Dina rolled her eyes, uncrossing her arms and sticking her hands in her pockets. The heat of the conversation began to even out a bit.

“I don’t know, I thought the kiss a while ago made everything pretty obvious.”

Ellie just stared, frozen in place.

“And all those times I’ve ‘dragged’ you to come with me…” for the first time in the conversation, she hesitated, “I was hoping you would make a move one of those nights, okay?”

The words stalled, and Ellie took a step forward apologetically, “Dina, I-”

“I thought you felt the same way, as stupid as that sounds,” she mocked herself, “But it’s fine. I won’t bring it up again, alright?”

Dina went to turn away when she felt Ellie’s soft hand on her wrist pulling her back. Their eyes met again, and unlike the gaze they held earlier today, this one was understanding, loving, and Ellie couldn’t bring herself to look away.

“I do feel that way,” she corrected, “We never talked about it- the kiss, I mean- and I just wasn’t really sure if that’s what you wanted.”

Dina grabbed the taller girl’s hand, and whispered in the smallest voice,

“Then let’s talk about it.”

Ellie shook her head, letting go of her hands and lightly taking the shorter girl’s face in her palms.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Then she closed the gap between them, and when their lips met for the second time they could feel any tension that was left melt away, almost as if it had never been there in the first place. Fire ran through Ellie’s veins, igniting a spark she had only felt once before with Dina, and the other girl was just as submissive to the feeling.

Dina’s hands made their way to the back of the taller girl’s neck, deepening the kiss. She had kissed lots of people before, but way the softness of Ellie’s lips felt against her own and the taste of lingering whiskey didn’t compare to any other feeling in her life, other than maybe a handful of things she could imagine in that moment, all having to do with Ellie.

Breaking the kiss for air was painful, almost as if it were more important than breathing. They leaned their foreheads against each other, each one of them trying to catch their breath.

“Okay, but we definitely have to talk about that.”

Ellie laughed before leaning in again to leave a brief kiss on the shorter girl’s lips, then pulling back and taking her hands in her own.

“You wish.”

#the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us part two #the last of us ii #tlou #tlou2 #tlou ii #tlou ellie #tlou dina #ellie x dina #ellie and dina #dina and ellie #dina x ellie #tloup2 #fanfic

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

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Hi!!!!!!!!!!

I hope that you get to feeling better soon! Are you excited for your move or is mostly just stressful right now?

I'm excited to hear that you are watching Kingdom. We finally got to watch the second episode today and it was *chef's kiss*. Please share your thoughts once you get to watch it. The Boyz once again are pulling out all the stops, and we are happy for all the new ikon content.

I really wish the groups could focus more on the opportunity to showcase their talents and experiment with their styles than on ranking and winning because that's what I'm here for. I'm too much of a multi-stan for the competition aspect. I just want all of them to win because they're all great and work hard and deserve it.

Sorry, I realize this turned more into a ramble than a question😄

Good luck with the rest of your packing. I pray you will have a smooth and easy move.

-h

I was so happy to see your name come through when I checked my notifications! How are you Hana? (And Em too of course!)

I’m hoping to feel better soon... sometimes I can eat gluten with zero issues, and then others it’s just the smallest of levels and I’m feeling as if my stomach will never settle. It’s nothing I would wish on my worst enemy, that’s for sure!

I’m definitely excited for the move. Every little horse girl dreams of living with her ponies. And that dream is still the same despite not being so little haha. I’m nervous because it’s a farm and whilst we’ve always wanted one, it was always going to be on our terms. This one comes with chickens... about 15 of them, and we’ve never raised them (or handled them aside from when I looked after them this Easter and last Christmas)... I’m the only one out of 4 who isn’t petrified of birds too, so this is great, lol. I guess I’m most nervous about being “city slickers” our whole lives and now making our pets and ourselves adjust to a different lifestyle. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like we’re moving to the country... our farm is in the suburbs. The city center is about a 15minute drive outside of rush hour traffic. And the shops are a 6min drive so we’re definitely not losing any comfort there... but it’s things like our dogs are used to being in a fully enclosed yard and there’s none of that here... just certain things to navigate so we can live happily. Which I know we can easily conquer, but I’ve definitely been up at 2am searching “dog fencing” for one, haha!

How could I not watch Kingdom after how epic RTK was. I’m such a fan of The Boyz, there was no way I would be sitting out watching them perform their hearts out again! It’s good to see both iKon and BTOB on the show. I’m also super pumped for SF9 being there. The battle between Stray Kids, Ateez and The Boyz isn’t anything new really, so having the other three there really balances it out for me. It is sad how the pressure is to get ranked high and not to just showcase what they’re about. This is a great platform for all 6 groups to really expose their talents and build their fandoms from. Alas, everything is deemed a competition these days. As a fellow multi-stan, I feel you on wanting to just proudly watch the groups perform and not focus on who is the best. (Which we all know is Ji Changmin, okay lolololol)

I think I rambled just as much!

Thank you for your endless kindness. I love you both dearly, and it always feels like Christmas whenever I see your name pop up on my screen!

________________

My ask box is open for this week’s Chelle Chats!

#chellechats #pwyl; answered #soybeantree

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myulalie · 4 years ago

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Malec & Bridgerton AU

Thank you for this challenging prompt anon, I had a lot of fun! Read on AO3 here, else here is what I came up with ♥ Hope you like it!

Days we shall not soon forget

The sun lays a gentle caress on Alec’s back, one he hopes will not leave an angry mark between his shoulder blades. The light leaves a delicious sheen on the expanse of smooth skin beneath him, like the most precious quartz, smoked to a gorgeous radiance Alec cannot grow tired of. Green and yellow grass cradles Magnus’ body and Alec’s as he lowers his head and swallows around his lover’s length.

He runs his fingers over Magnus’ abdomen, flat and mellow, nothing like Alec’s, Magnus is warm beneath his hands, his shirt hanging from his chest like slowly melting snow in the field of dried grass. Magnus arches his back, pushing his hips up to press his erection deeper in Alec’s mouth, and gives a breathy moan when Alec bobs his head obediently.

The rustle of leaves above them reminds Alec of the passing of time, and he glances at the clock ticking in the grass next to them, a silver pocket watch that ticks too close to the time of the social gathering. Alec will be late. He can feel Magnus writhing beneath him, spread under the oak tree, both of them half naked from fooling around in the field and laughing.

“Alexander. One day I shall seize that watch and take it apart bit by bit,” Magnus pants above him.

“That belonged to my father,” Alec breathes out, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ hip, “should it disappear, I would miss it sadly.”

“Then you shall know precisely how I feel every time you disappear.”

Alec snatches the hand crawling up his sideburns and to his dark hair before Magnus can mess up his already unruly curls, and kisses the bright stains of red and blue and green paint, a blend of yellow and orange on the edge of the artist’s knuckles. Sunlight flashes off his rusty rings, and Alec shifts uncomfortably in the grass, willing his own erection to disappear. There is no time left for him.

“Stay with me today,” Magnus pleads.

“I’m afraid I cannot, my sister must be chaperoned at the Morgenstern ball this evening.”

Magnus throws his head back when Alec laps at his length, and falls silent as Alec swallows down around him again. Alec lets go of Magnus’ hands to brush the artist’s thighs and slide up to the sensitive skin beneath, and Magnus comes with a muffled cry when his length hits the back of Alec’s throat.

Alec swallows, letting go reluctantly, and kisses Magnus’ stomach, making his way up to nip at the exposed throat, throbbing with the breath Magnus has yet to catch. He covers Magnus’ body with his when they kiss, and tangles his hands in the artist’s charcoal hair, too long for the current fashion in the aristocracy. It suits Magnus’ strikingly handsome features though, with his slanted eyes and sharp cheekbones, the glow of his eyes like black tea.

“What might be like, these grand affairs you must attend?” Magnus sighs, wrapping his arms around Alec’s shoulders.

“You would hate them,” he chuckles, and feels the familiar, throbbing sting on his shoulder blades. Alec blames his pale complexion for the sunburns, “Every eligible lady of breeding dressed in some lavishly trimmed frock, bloodthirsty mamas at their sides and wary fathers making arrangements for only the most advantageous of matches. And of course, without my father here, that responsibility falls upon me.”

“A significant duty, no doubt,” Magnus agrees with a stifled laugh, nodding wisely.

“Someone must guard my poor sister from the bucks and pinks, ensure her virtue remains free of any kind of defilement.”

“Isabelle, yes?” the artist interrupts, arching his eyebrows, “She is fortunate, although I doubt a woman of her stature is in need of such gallant protection.”

“Isabelle is a lady,” Alec shrugs and sits up, grabbing the pocket watch.

“Of course, my lord.”

Magnus gathers his shirt around him, though he does not quite button it up and adjusts his pants on his waist with a sigh. He avoids Alec’s eyes, no doubt in an attempt not to overstep, Alec knows that Magnus doesn’t care much for the intricacies of high society, and the artist would probably be in jail if it weren’t for his protectors, ladies and gents alike, and their influence. There are twigs in Magnus’ hair and on his shoulders, so Alec reaches to brush them off, and ducks his head in order to meet the artist’s eyes.

“Magnus,” he starts, but it goes unanswered, “angel, you have me, protecting you. I will always protect you.”

Finally, the artist peers at him, and Alec leans in to steal a kiss, savoring the wet slide of their lips and the taste that is distinctively Magnus. The wind sends a handful of leaves swirling down, and the clock is ticking in Alec’s hand, so they part reluctantly. Alec’s horse awaits him, attached to a nearby tree, and he winces as he buttons his shirt, the fabric suddenly rough against his abused back.

“Have you worked on that oil painting of my family joining the Queen for dinner like I requested?” Alec asks as he unties the reins.

“Of course my lord,” Magnus lies smoothly, his lips tilting up at one corner.

“Be sure you have something ready for me when I visit.”

Magnus gives a mock military salute as Alec gets on the horse, and the artist saunters through the field, back to the apartment Alec pays for on the other side of town. The lord cannot help but spur his horse on until they catch up with the artist, and offers Magnus his hand.

“May I show you to the main road, at least?”

The artist gives Alec’s horse a wary look. A beautiful animal, with a black coloring, lustrous, that flows over powerful limbs and a muscular body. Magnus is not around horses as much as Alec, of course, and to commoners, horses are more likely to trample them than carry them around. Yet, Magnus trusts Alec, and takes hold of the lord’s offered hand so Alec helps him up, and gives Magnus a second to settle behind him before spurring the horse on once again.

Magnus holds on tightly to Alec’s waist, plastered to the lord’s back, and Alec winces at the pain from his sunburn coming back with a vengeance. He cherishes the proximity though, the smell of sandalwood that surrounds him every time he holds Magnus close. Alec loves Isabelle dearly, and he would never leave her alone at the Morgenstern ball, but he wishes he did not have to leave Magnus alone either.

They send dust flying as they come up to the main road, and the horse slows down to a stop in the shade of a nearby plane tree, snorting. Magnus doesn’t relax straight away, still holding onto Alec, and it takes a little nudging before the tight embrace loosens enough for the lord to glance over his shoulder.

“Will you be alright, angel?”

“Yes,” Magnus shakes his head, strands of dark hair falling over his eyes, “thank you, my lord.”

Magnus tightens his hold on Alec’s waist again as he flings his leg over the horse and slides down to the ground, before looking up to Alec. Long eyelashes throw dancing shadows on his cheek, and Alec wishes he could kiss them, alas the clock is ticking inside his breast pocket. He nods once, and Magnus steps back, off to the side and out of the way of a fancy carriage.

Alec scowls at the carriage, and races it to the Morgenstern’s townhouse. A beautiful building, covered in anemone flowers, and when Alec dismounts swiftly the sound of his heels hitting the cobblestone echoes in the yard. The Lightwood’s carriage comes round just as he leaves his horse with a groom, and Alec bows deeply as Lady Maryse steps out of the white and gold flame work on the carriage.

“Mother.”

“Alec!” Isabelle interrupts before Maryse can scold him.

She hurries out of the carriage as well and Alec barely has time to offer his hand to her as she steps onto the cobblestones in a white frock, the white fabric luxurious and immaculate. Her hair curls beautifully over her shoulders, leaving her face and doe eyes on display as Maryse tied the long strands of dark hair back on Isabelle’s head with a brand new silk ribbon.

“You came,” Isabelle goes on, grinning.

“I could not possibly leave you to fend for yourself here,” Alec replies.

“Yet, you are late,” Maryse scowls.

She wears a frock and a dark blue Spencer, her hair, dark like her children, up in a tight bun, and Alec ignores his mother to escort Isabelle inside. His sister looks very proper, nothing like the girl Alec knows, he used to tug on her pigtails and shove dirt in her hair, but she’d knock him out with a single punch if he tried now.

The Morgenstern town house is dimly lit for the ball, and Alec leads Isabelle across the polished wooden floors as around them, young women offer to show their suitors watercolors, and their mothers add a little something about pianoforte and flowers. Alec moves past them without a glance, holding Isabelle’s arm firmly when she makes a grab a drink.

“You are not allowed near this table,” Alec whispers, and she huffs.

“He is rather pleasing,” Isabelle comments as they move past a man carrying a monocle.

“He is rather here to shuffle about hunting fortunes. Trust Mr Lewis knows of your sizable dowry, leave him be,” Alec dismisses.

“I presume you know him too?” Isabelle goes on as though Alec has not spoken, pointing at a blond man.

“Mr Blackthorn, second son,” Maryse replies, scowling at Julian Blackthorn, “we shall find better.”

The Carstairs girl will probably end up with Julian, and Alec agrees with his mother. He has no intention of leaving Isabelle with the oldest Blackthorn either, Mark is a cheat, a man of any honor ensures his debts are fully paid, but Mark left an unpaid balance on the gentlemen club’s betting books last winter.

They veer out of the way of the Morgenstern children, Jonathan and Clarissa, they look nothing alike, him with a head of golden hair and stark features, her with a mane of red hair and freckles. She cleaned up well, Alec notices distractedly when Isabelle makes to pause and introduce herself, but he keeps walking, Maryse following. She pushes Isabelle forward.

“He is of dubious parentage,” she whispers in her children’s ears.

Alec has heard the rumors that Valentine frolicked with his domestic, who looks strikingly like Clary, when his spouse revealed unable to bear children. Alec himself is wary of Jonathan, whom a few ladies have been caught with, unchaperoned.

“I shall not have you making a life with a poet, heaven forbid,” Alec mutters to himself.

“Nor an eccentric,” Maryse adds.

Isabelle rolls her eyes and they chastise her for the unladylike behavior, when a polite cough attracts the Lightwoods’ attention, and Alec comes face to face with Lady Morgenstern. She is sickeningly pale in a silver gown, her beady eyes are dead black, cold and empty and her hair looks like a nest of snakes, yet they all bow respectfully to their host.

“Good evening, Lady Lightwood, Miss Lightwood,” she pauses disdainfully, ��Lord Lightwood.”

“I believe you have already been introduced to my daughter Isabelle,” Maryse replies evenly.

“Indeed. You look rather,” another pause, “lovely this evening. Is there a reason I have yet to see you on the dance floor?”

“All in good time, Lady Morgenstern,” Alec cuts in smoothly.

“Allow them to come to you,” Maryse comments offhandedly as their host leaves them be.

The rustle of fabric is overwhelming for Alec, and he hides a wince when someone slaps his back, right over the sunburn. The strong palm belongs to a familiar individual, with fair blond hair and bright eyes, the man is shorter than Alec, clad in white and gold like a knight in the old legends.

“Alec!” the blond exclaims, beaming.

“Jace!” Alec replies excitedly, momentarily letting go of his sister.

“Come here, old friend,” Jace exclaims again, slapping Alec’s back one more time.

Alec conceals his wince of pain and slaps Jace right back, over the head with the size difference, which sends Jace’s blond streaks of hair flying and some people give them odd looks, displeased with their behavior, Alec’s mother among them.

“I heard news of your father, you are no longer a Wayland nor a Morgenstern,” Alec says, lowering his voice.

“Herondale, Prince Herondale, can you believe it?”

Jace smiles again, and his joy is infectious. Raised in the Morgenstern manor, among the grooms and servants of his late, adoptive father the humble Sir Wayland, many believed Jace to be another son of Valentine as he grew up pale and fair like Lord Morgenstern, until he was revealed to be the grandson of the Queen, Imogen Herondale herself.

“Right,” Alec smiles until his cheeks hurt, “have you met my sister? Isabelle, Jace and I know each other from our days at Oxford.”

“Days we shall not soon forget!” Jace adds.

“Yes, I am well aware of the company you keep, son,” Maryse interrupts, and makes to shoo Jace away.

“I am certain your days with His Royal Highness were most civilized, indeed,” Isabelle chimes in.

The blond grins at Izzy, ignoring Maryse, as he very well can, and Alec admires his mother and her social standing for doing such a thing, as Maryse is not only inferior to Jace, but also a widow. He misses Lord Starkweather approaching them as Isabelle steps aside to fetch a glass of lemonade, and by the time Alec notices, it is too late, especially when Maryse who has laid a warning hand on his arm, holds him back.

“Good evening,” the older man greets Izzy, “small glasses.”

“Lord Starkweather,” Isabelle replies and Alec turns around at the tension of her voice.

Jace slaps Alec on the back one last time before bidding him goodbye, and Alec takes the opportunity to move away from his mother, ready to fly to his sister’s rescue. The lord is a small man with a beaky nose that appears even more prominent because of the scar that runs down his face, Starkweather is a close friend to Maryse, and both her children have met him several times growing up.

“Tiny little things, are they not?” Hodge insists.

“The glasses? I suppose,” Isabelle agrees.

“Then the matter is settled.”

“I’m not entirely sure the matter in which we discuss, my lord,” she deflects smoothly.

Alec praises his sister internally, Isabelle is clever, and she can handle herself, but he’s seething. The nerve of this man! He hates the smile on Hodge’s face, and in the dim light of the reception room, Hodge looks even more predatory.

“You’ve always amused me, Miss Lightwood. Ever since I was a schoolboy and you were...”

“All but five?” Isabelle replies innocently. This is the last straw, Alec steps forward, and Isabelle scurries away from Lord Starkweather, “My brother, he summons me!”

Isabelle flings herself at Alec’s arm and he leads her towards the exit in spite of their mother’s protests, the most perfect thing would be to let Isabelle dance, leave her suitors all wanting more after holding her in their arms, but Alec has not intention to marry Isabelle off to one of them, and his sister would step on their feet anyway.

They leave the Morgenstern townhouse behind and Alec helps Maryse climb into the Lightwood carriage, the yard is empty except for them, music playing in the house still, and echoing against the cobblestones. Isabelle hides behind his back when Maryse glances at them, fiddling with her brother’s shirt.

“May I ride back with Alec?”

Maryse sighs and waves them off as a groom brings Alec’s black horse forth. He goes first, and helps Isabelle climb up as well, they can afford a new frock, and her laugh when he spurs the horse on is worth Maryse’s disapproving gaze as they race the carriage back to the Lightwood townhouse. The wind rushes past them, tangling Isabelle’s hair as it comes undone, and above them, the night sky is speckled with stars.

The Lightwood townhouse is alight with candles and Lydia, the governess, her hair pulled tight over her scalp with a silk ribbon that looks suspiciously like one of Isabelle’s, welcomes them at the door. She keeps Max, the boy is much younger than Alec and Isabelle, from running outside and ruining his night clothes, and their brother shrieks in delight at the sight of them dismounting.

“How was the ball? I cannot wait to go and court a lady!”

Alec smiles, ruffling his brother’s hair on the way inside, while a groom takes care of his horse, and the carriage Maryse just came out of. Max rushes past Isabelle and Lydia to throw himself at Maryse, and the matriarch freezes on the doorstep as the boy buries his face in her white and blue skirts.

“Mama! I want to marry Miss Madzie,” Max tells her, his high pitched voice muffled by the fabric.

Madzie is a distant cousin of Lady Loss — Catarina is a spinster and kind enough to take the girl under her wing— and Lady Loss’ ward is rather dowdy, in no way the potential prospect Maryse wishes for, but Alec will gladly arrange the marriage if Max so desires when he comes of age. Lady Loss is a dear friend of Magnus, and Alec himself cares for Madzie deeply.

Max emerges from his mother’s skirts, his dark hair at disarray, and Lydia holds her hand out to lead the boy back inside as Alec nods politely at the governess. He would trust her with his siblings’ lives, Lydia is a woman of duty and responsibility.

She is Isabelle’s confidant too, and ever since she became the Lightwoods’ domestic, she has done nothing but good in honor of her late fiancé’s memory. John tried and failed to save Robert Lightwood’s life when he went hunting, and a horse made a mad dash for survival upon facing a sounder, but the wild boars trampled both Lord Lightwood senior and his groom.

Alec sighs at the memory and offers Maryse his arm to lead her inside. Isabelle follows along, moving with ease among mahogany furniture covered in family heirloom, but as Alec makes his way towards his father’s study, Isabelle veers towards her bedroom instead. She cannot bear the sight of a red velvet and mahogany wooden chessboard, that brings forth memories of Robert, a loving father, but distant husband. Maryse and Robert had one single thing in common, their desire to spare Isabelle the misery of a loveless marriage.

“You were a reasonable mother until your daughter came of age,” Alec says, keeping his voice low, “this matchmaking scheme you rather transparently concocted, it will not work.”

Alec pats the silver watch in his breast pocket at the sight, and trails his fingers along the back of beloved books, their servants dust the shelves every so often, but it has been a long time since Maryse laid a hand on the precious collection. Even Max avoids the study, he who used to sit on the desk chair while Robert perused their family’s account books.

“I can think of worse matches for Isabelle than Lord Starkweather,” Maryse replies tightly, “we are good friends.”

“He will not make her happy!” Alec argues.

“Your father-”

“Do not bring Father into this.”

Maryse and Robert did not love each other, and Isabelle deserves better, this has always been the consensus among the family. The matriarch steps away from Alec, and turns her back on the bookshelves to pace the room instead, her skirts a flurry of white and blue around her, not unlike her silent fury.

“Do not make this any more difficult than it already is,” Alec adds, whispering.

“I wish to know something, Alec. Tonight, when you leave this study, are you to return to your bedroom, that you continue to keep at your family home, or will you pay a visit to a certain artist that you tend to, in an apartment that you pay for, on the other side of town?” when Alec denies his mother of an answer, Maryse stops pacing, “You like to speak of responsibility, my dear son, of duty, pray tell, what should we do about this?”

“I am in possession of something most are not, a brother,” Alec loses patience.

“So you’re merely an older brother, and not the man of this house?” Maryse cuts in, “Relying on your younger brother to one day do the job that you cannot-”

“Enough!”

Maryse startles and Alec storms out of the study, there is no use in arguing with his mother, she does not have the power to make decisions anyhow. Someone snuffed the lights in the withdrawing room, but Alec has grown in this house and makes his way to the stable without trouble, where he saddles his horse. They leave running, and disappear into the night.

The streets are busy in the evening, and the horses’ hooves echo on the cobblestone as Alec slows down to a stop in front of the apartment. He spies Lord Fell coming out of a carriage with soprano singers on both his arms, and Alec shakes his head to hide a smile. He is not the only bachelor in town, and Fell has been unattached for the longest time.

The front of the house is covered with Daphne flowers, shades of white and purple Alec can’t appreciate in the evening as he ducks inside. The rickety staircase whines beneath the soles of his feet and Alec smiles as he pushes the door open to reveal Magnus reading by candlelight, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Lady Loss and Lord Fell’s combined efforts to teach young Magnus how to read are a story Alec much prefers to listen to than Magnus’ occasional attempts to play some sort of instrument, which are the most unpleasant. The lord snort inelegantly at the thought, and Magnus finally takes notice of him, looking up.

The artist looks delightful in the glow of dancing flames, and Alec pauses to take him in, enjoy the shades that linger on Magnus’ cheeks and throat, the way his clothes, more comfortable than expensive, hang down his lithe frame, snug and inviting. Alec rubs at his sideburns, unable to conceal his smile. There is nowhere he would rather be.

“Alexander!” Magnus exclaims.

He tosses the book over his shoulder and Alec conceals a grimace, hoping this is not a priceless edition of the volume. There are half completed paintings stacked against a wall, and glass jars dangle from a peculiar garland above their heads. Alec peers at them with interest even as Magnus steps up to him.

“I hope the painting is ready,” the lord can’t help but say, knowing the commission is nowhere near complete.

“No, but I built something the Queen has never seen, or imagined!” Magnus pipes up.

The artist points at the garland, turning away from Alec for the briefest moment, but a grin obvious in his voice and Alec smiles, glancing at the glass jars too.

“What are these?”

Magnus brushes past him to move near his cluttered desk, rummaging to find a tinderbox to kindle a fire, and he brings a spark to the end of the garland. The fire crackles as it goes up, then flashes along the garland and suddenly all the jars light up like fireflies. Alec blinks slowly, surprised, and swivels around in wonder, staring at the garland like fireworks in the sky. The wooden floors sigh tiredly when Magnus steps closer, touching Alec’s waist, and the lord relaxes into the embrace, watching the display of lights above them.

“This is quite magical,” he breathes out.

The artist chuckles, kissing his cheek, rubbing his face against Alec’s sideburns with what sound suspiciously like a purr, and Alec turns slowly, bringing his hands up to cup Magnus’ face. They kiss in the amber glow of the fire trapped in glass jars, and Alec cannot believe, for one second, that he made the wrong choice.

This is all he needs.

#malec #shadowhunters #pearfectly fine to ask #regency romance #magnus bane #alec lightwood #autopromo #fanfiction

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lamujerarana · 5 years ago

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for the prompt: Geralt/Jaskier, 9

Geralt was behaving very strangely.

He was speaking, somehow, less than usual—which Jaskier truly hadn’t thought possible—and he was…skittish.

Yes. That was the word.

Geralt had, admittedly, spoken quite a lot this morning when they set off to investigate the rash of missing children in the area. It had mostly consisted of profuse swearing, filled with some words even Jaskier, surprisingly, hadn’t heard before, although he could gather the general gist of it, which was that Geralt did not want Jaskier to accompany him on this mission.

Geralt had been known to complain endlessly about being accompanied by Jaskier on dangerous missions in the past, but Jaskier had always been sure that it was mostly for show and that Geralt was secretly pleased to have company during his lonely travels.

This morning, however, he’d felt for the first time since their initial meeting that Geralt genuinely did not want Jaskier to go with him.

Jaskier was hurt. Hurt and offended.

Especially since Geralt had seemed in fine spirits the day before—he’d even asked Jaskier if he wanted to go drinking at the pub with him, which was a first. Normally, Jaskier had to badger Geralt into doing anything that even vaguely resembled the average person’s idea of what constituted fun and entertainment and didn’t involve beating monsters to a bloody pulp for money.

But then, this morning Geralt was fidgety, couldn’t meet Jaskier’s eyes, and seemed generally uncomfortable in Jaskier’s presence.

The only logical assumption Jaskier could make was that something had happened between them last night.

Unfortunately, Jaskier also remembered nothing about last night after, oh, about drink number three.

He’d woken up alone in his bedroom, stumbled downstairs, caught Geralt trying to sneak off without him, and insisted on going with him.

They’d argued, but it had ended with Jaskier declaring, in no uncertain terms, “If you don’t want me to go with you, Witcher, you’ll just have to—tie me up or something.”

He hadn’t stomped his foot, but he’d felt like it. He did so enjoy high emotion and melodrama, although generally not before he’d guzzled down whatever breakfast he could afford.

Geralt had—it seemed so unbelievable now—lowered his eyes, grunted once, and then, bizarrely, fled from the pub.

There wasn’t really any other way to describe it—of that Jaskier was certain.

Jaskier fixed a puzzled frown on Geralt’s broad shoulders as they rode through the countryside toward the site of the most recent abduction and tried to make sense of it all.

The Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf of Rivia, a daring, strong, fearless Witcher who struck fear into the hearts of all who laid eyes upon him, who had slain monsters capable of making lesser men piss themselves in terror, had fled from a beautiful, soft-spoken, gentle, stylishly-dressed bard.

Jaskier simply did not understand why. Geralt had never been frightened of him before. Certainly Jaskier’s mien was anything but menacing.

Jaskier decided to confront Geralt about his suspicions directly. He could not depend on Geralt to do anything other than avoid the issue to an irrational degree.

Words were the medium in which Jaskier excelled, in which he chose to create his transcendent works of art; Geralt’s chosen medium was violence. And brooding. And this was not the sort of issue that could be settled through violence or brooding.

So that meant that this was up to Jaskier to set right.

What could he have done? Stolen Geralt’s purse from him? Spent what little he had on food, women, and wine? Geralt should thank him for that, if that’s what he’d done.

Perhaps he’d said something tactless about Yennefer, the enchantress with whom Geralt had been tortuously in love for years, but of whom Jaskier disapproved intensely—he did not think that her decision to cheat on Geralt with her ex or leave Geralt so abruptly said much about her general character.

If Jaskier had ever been so lucky as to be able to call the Witcher’s bruised heart his own, he certainly wouldn’t have squandered it as carelessly as Jennifer had. He would have cherished it and treated it with the care and love it so richly deserved, and he would have given Geralt every ounce of love and adoration he bore in his own soul.

They could have had one of those epic, soaring romances that lived forever in the hearts and minds of the people: the White Wolf of Rivia and his own true love, Jaskier the Bard. Geralt would perform various acts of astonishing bravery, skill, and nobility, and Jaskier would dutifully chronicle them for posterity through various songs and poems. Working together, they would ensure that no one would ever forget either of them, bard or Witcher. A perfect pair.

Of course, there would also be a number of deliriously happy love ballads that would be equally popular.

But, alas, while Jaskier was all too willing to fall in love with Geralt, the Witcher had never betrayed the slightest hint of interest. And he had known Jaskier for years now.

It had been difficult, but Jaskier had eventually, as the years passed, accepted that their epic romance was simply not to be—except in those adoring, wistful love ballads that he had written in secret and never played to anyone, ever, out of fear that they would somehow find their way back to Geralt and Jaskier would end up losing some treasured parts of his anatomy.

It was a shame, really, since they were some of his best work. Perhaps he’d publish them someday, when he was very old and Geralt was much less likely to track Jaskier down and commit various acts of violence upon his person.

Today, however, he was more interested in ensuring that he could retain Geralt’s general goodwill and friendship.

Jaskier squared his jaw determinedly and urged his horse forward until he was riding side by side with Geralt and Roach.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said firmly, “we need to talk about why you’re acting like this.”

“Like what?” Geralt replied gruffly. He still wasn’t looking at Jaskier, and Jaskier found that he hated it. “I always act like this.”

Jaskier shook his head vehemently. “No, no, no, you don’t. I’ve known you for a long time, Witcher, and I know all of your moods, and this is a new one.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been in this mood many times throughout my life.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“You don’t know everything about me, bard.”

“You know, someday I am going to get very offended at the way you spit out the word ‘bard’ as though it were an insult.”

“That’s because I am insulting you,” Geralt growled, teeth bared like the white wolves after which he was named.

Jaskier wanted to tell Geralt to go perform several unseemly acts, but he decided against it. He hadn’t started this conversation in order to get more furious at Geralt. “Well, this is just getting us nowhere! Why don’t we try—”

“I agree. Talking with you is always pointless.”

“It is not! You know, there are people out there who admire me and are actually interested in what I have to say and—” Jaskier caught himself, sagged in his saddle, put a hand over his face, and took several deep, calming breaths. Geralt could be so unbelievably taxing sometimes. “Geralt, I just want to know what’s bothering you and how to fix it. You don’t need to snap my head off. Or make insulting and very hurtful remarks.”

“Insulting and very true, you mean.”

Jaskier was tempted to ride off in a huff, but he knew that would just be giving Geralt exactly what he wanted, so of course, it was the last thing Jaskier was going to do.

“Why are you being like this? What did I do to piss you off?”

Geralt silently contemplated the sky for a few moments. “You don’t remember last night, do you?” he said at last.

Jaskier was left rather speechless, but eventually, he managed to say, “I remember parts of it.” Geralt gave him a skeptical look. “Very early parts of it.”

“Hmm. Well, if you don’t know, you can find out from someone else. I’ll not tell you.”

And with that, Geralt gave a particularly vehement twitch of his reins and he and Roach rode off well ahead of Jaskier and his poor, thin horse.

Jaskier was left staring after him, more lost now than he had been when the conversation began.

What the devil had he done?

***

Jaskier was soon distracted from his troubles by the arrival of a bizarrely clad, monstrous Pied Piper, who, it seemed, lured little children away from their homes with lovely, hypnotic music, imprisoned them, and, eventually, had them for supper.

Jaskier was particularly offended at the idea that the Piper had used the venerable art of music for such ignoble ends. How dare he? Didn’t he know that music was sacred and beautiful and…

Suffice it to say, he ranted the entire way back to the pub and inn at which he and Geralt were staying.

The moment they arrived, Geralt fled (again) upstairs to his room, leaving Jaskier to entertain himself for the rest of the day.

Jaskier spotted the burly old innkeeper sweeping up the mostly empty pub (it was still much too early for drinking).

The innkeeper had been here last night, he remembered. Perhaps he had witnessed whatever sin Jaskier had committed.

Jaskier headed directly toward him. “Good afternoon, my good sir!” he said cheerily. “I was wondering if I might, perhaps, have a word with you?”

The innkeeper, who was rotund, balding, and had a horrible mustache that resembled the pelt of a dead rodent more than anything else, straightened up, looked Jaskier over disapprovingly, and said, “If it’s about your bill, young sir, I expect you to pay in full or you’ll ‘ave nowt but trouble followin’ you.”

Jaskier waved that notion away. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

The innkeeper’s displeasure morphed into confusion. “Well, what, then?”

Jaskier mustered up all of the dignity he could, rose to his full height, and declared, “I would like to know what I did last night.”

There was a glint of mirth in the innkeeper’s eye of which Jaskier did not approve. “Don’t you know, sir?”

Jaskier cleared his throat. “As it happens, no, I do not.”

The innkeeper, damn him, had the colossal gall to smirk.

Jaskier scowled. “I imbibed rather too much of your ale, and my memory of last night is…poor. So I would like to know if I did anything untoward. Or, perhaps, embarrassing.”

“Oh, aye, that you did.”

Jaskier almost didn’t want to know at this point, but it did seem that his friendship with Geralt was perhaps at stake, so he had no choice but to ask, “Specifically?”

“Well, now,” the innkeeper said amiably, scratching his nose, “where to begin?”

“With anything concerning my friend, the Witcher. Was there any…” He waved a hand around as he searched for the right word. “…embarrassment related to him?”

“Hmm.” The innkeeper frowned. “You mean apart from the two hours you spent serenading him?”

Jaskier’s stomach dropped. “Serenading? What…what did I sing? Nothing too embarrassing, I hope?”

“No, no, the songs were very good. Had me poor wife bawling, they did, and all of my serving girls. All about how much you love that lad an’ how bewitchin’ he is, an’ ‘how sad you were that he din’t love you back.” His eyes twinkled. “The Bewitchin’ Witcher. That’s what you called ‘im.”

No. Oh, no. It wasn’t possible. Those were the secret songs Jaskier had been writing for Geralt these many long years. He couldn’t speak of his love to Geralt—or anyone else, for that matter—and ultimately he had poured all of the feelings that were roiling about inside of him out into these songs, but he certainly had never intended to sing them to Geralt. While he was present and in mortal danger.

Jaskier fought to keep his expression calm. “And…how did Geralt take this?”

“Thought it was funny, at first, then ‘is face got darker as the singin’ went on, and he was very put out, I must say, when you threw up all over ‘is clothes and passed out on ‘is lap. All covered in your own sick, you were. You both were. He carried you upstairs, cursin’ all the while, and that’s the last I saw of you.”

Jaskier had awoken alone in his bed and mostly clothed, so he assumed Geralt had simply deposited him on his bed and left.

He hoped that was all that had happened. That he hadn’t woken up and made an awkward situation even more so.

“Ah,” Jaskier said awkwardly. “Well. Thank you. I believe that’s all I needed to know.”

Jaskier turned to make his escape, but was brought to a halt when he heard the innkeeper say, “Oh, and you did kiss ‘im, you know.”

“On the mouth?” Jaskier asked without turning around.

“Aye. And for a long while at that. That’s right before you emptied your stomach all over the Witcher’s clothes, now that I think on it.”

Jaskier shut his eyes. Of course it had been. Of course.

Then it was Jaskier’s turn to flee up the stairs, his heart pounding loudly in his chest all the while.

He had told Geralt the truth of how he felt about him.

How could he have been so—so stupid, and careless, and—a dunce, that’s what he was, a dunce.

He swore to himself that he would never drink another drop of alcohol, ever again, and promptly realized that he craved a drink more than anything in the world.

Curse his luck.

He didn’t think he would ever be able to look Geralt in the eye again ever. This was the rather ignominious end of a friendship that had endured through so many long years that it grieved Jaskier to think of them.

A drunken serenade and an embarrassing kiss, that was all it took to unravel a friendship it had taken them years to build.

Jaskier paced back and forth in his room for hours, agonizing over what he should do, how he could fix this.

He supposed he could go to Geralt, apologize, and do his best to downplay the feelings to which he had so stupidly confessed.

Or he could pack his bags and run away and hope that time would lead Geralt to forgive and forget, so that the next time they ran into each other, things would be less awkward.

Significantly less awkward, he hoped.

Jaskier was conflicted about which course of action to take until he recalled how sharp and pointy Geralt’s sword was and how easily he had beheaded that impudent Pied Piper.

Jaskier’s hand went to his own throat. He rather enjoyed having his head attached to his body and wasn’t eager to risk the loss of either.

Well. That settled that. Jaskier would pack up and be on his way tonight.

He’d find some obscure town to hide in—no, wait, Geralt tended to favor those. A royal court! Now those Geralt loathed and rarely frequented.

Yes, a lavish royal court sounded ideal. Somewhere peaceful, where there were few monsters who would require the arrival of a Witcher.

Jaskier knew just the place and set about preparing to leave immediately.

Given that he had such few possessions, it didn’t take him long at all to set off down the stairs, lute slung across his back.

The inn was far busier now than it had been earlier that afternoon, but still Jaskier had little difficulty picking out the portly form of the innkeeper.

He made his way through the crowd, attracted the innkeeper’s attention, and asked him very politely to tell Geralt that he had been called away unexpectedly and would be gone for a long time.

Possibly a very long time.

The innkeeper nodded his head. “You and your lad had a fight, then?”

“Not at all. I was called away. Urgent business,” Jaskier sniffed. Who did this innkeeper think he was to be prying into Jaskier’s private affairs—or, more accurately, the lack of them?

“Odd that I din’t see no messenger headin’ up to your room.”

“I suspect, my good man, you must have been busy and missed his arrival.”

“Oh, aye, I suppose that must be it.”

The manner in which the innkeeper was looking at Jaskier was entirely too knowing and downright disrespectful.

“Well,” Jaskier said with a curt nod. He placed a few coins in the innkeeper’s hand. “For your troubles. Do see to it that Geralt gets my message.”

The innkeeper nodded.

Jaskier all but bolted for the door, headed for the stables.

The stables were curiously empty, given the number of customers in the pub. Jaskier supposed that few of them were planning to stay the night, or they mostly lived near enough to walk home. Or stumble, as the case may be.

Jaskier strode directly toward the stall that held his own little mare and was busy strapping on her saddle and his luggage when he heard Geralt’s unmistakable growl say, “Going somewhere?”

Jaskier cursed softly under his breath, gathered himself together, and then rounded on Geralt. “I thought you weren’t talking to me,” he said shortly.

Geralt was leaning in the doorway of stable in a simple shirt and trousers. His long white hair was distractingly loose and lovely as it ringed his dimly-lit face, and his perfect, muscled arms were crossed casually across that wonderfully broad chest of his.

“Perhaps I changed my mind,” Geralt replied, oblivious to his own loveliness.

“Oh, so you’re not angry at me now?”

Geralt took a step toward Jaskier, who couldn’t help but think that this was some kind of trap that was going to end with him thrown into a pile of manure. “I take it you know what happened last night?”

Jaskier saw no point in denying it. “The innkeeper told me.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows expectantly. “And?” he prompted.

Jaskier wasn’t sure what Geralt was expecting him to say. “And…I’m sorry I ruined your clothes?”

That seemed to amuse Geralt for reasons Jaskier could not fathom. “And?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and sighed wearily. “And…I suppose I am sorry if I embarrassed you in any way.”

“Worse has been done to me.” Geralt took another step toward Jaskier. “Those songs…what were those songs?”

“Oh,” Jaskier said as casually as he could, “they were…nothing. Just. Some new songs I’ve been toying with, but nothing, really.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s a pity.”

Jaskier was speechless for a beat, but gathered himself together quickly enough to say, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I was angry about the very public serenade, I did not enjoy being vomited all over—some of it fell in my mouth, Jaskier, and in my hair. I had difficulty getting the taste of it out of my mouth, and it was foul.“

Jaskier winced. Oh, god. He had thought this couldn’t get any worse, but apparently he was being optimistic. “Yes, um, sorry about that. If it helps, I have sworn off liquor forever. Permanently. It’ll never happen again.”

Geralt shook his head and smiled fondly. “You, give up the bottle? I find that difficult to believe.”

“I have!” Jaskier placed a hand over his heart and held up a hand. “I swear it.”

“We’ll see,” Geralt replied, with far more skepticism than Jaskier felt was entirely necessary.

Jaskier belatedly realized that Geralt was standing very close to him now.

Jaskier braced himself internally. This was when he was going to get thrown into the filthy manure, he just knew it.

Geralt took a deep breath, almost as though he were steeling himself, and said, “I objected to all of that, bard, but…I did not object to the sentiment behind the songs. Or the kissing. Or any of the filthy things you whispered you wanted to do to me, right before the vomiting began.”

Jaskier was a master of words, but his facility with language seemed to have departed entirely, precisely at the moment when he needed it most. “So. You’re saying…what?”

“Many things.”

“Geralt.”

Geralt’s hands were…they were on Jaskier’s hips and…his face—no, his lips were drawing closer to Jaskier’s own and…then Geralt kissed Jaskier with more gentleness than Jaskier had thought him capable of.

When Geralt drew back, Jaskier’s mouth was hanging embarrassingly wide open, and his brain couldn’t seem to string together a coherent thought.

“Ah,” Geralt teased. “So that’s what it takes to get you to stop talking. If you’d told me that earlier, we could have saved a lot of time.”

Jaskier’s jaw snapped shut as he scowled. “You like it when I talk.”

Geralt smiled that overly fond, sweet smile again, and Jaskier’s heart convulsed.

Geralt lowered his lips to Jaskier’s once more, and this time, he lingered. This time, the kiss was passionate and eager.

Jaskier was breathless, his face flushed pink, by the time Geralt was done.

“Maybe,” Geralt allowed. “But I like kissing you more.”

“You do?”

Geralt nodded.

Jaskier still couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Perhaps he had hit his head somehow and this was all a dream. A wonderful, wonderful dream that he hoped would never end.

“Our romance,” he announced, “must be truly epic, so that bards will sing of us for centuries. I’ll write the songs myself, of course.”

“Yes, I heard last night that you’d already gotten a head start on that.”

“Yes, those songs were very good, weren’t they?”

Geralt drew closer to Jaskier, and for a moment Jaskier was convinced that Geralt was going to kiss him again. His eyes were closed and he waited breathlessly to be kissed once more…and then he felt Geralt’s breath brush against his ear.

“If you ever call me the Bewitching Witcher again, Jaskier, you will regret it.”

Jaskier pulled back far enough for Geralt to see his smile. “But you are bewitching, Geralt.”

Geralt scowled in a manner that surely would have stricken terror into the heart of anyone he had not kissed breathless a minute or so ago.

“Jaskier,” he growled.

Jaskier plucked his lute and his small bag of clothing and assorted poetry books from his mare’s saddle.

He strode out of the stable, strumming his lute and cheerfully singing “The Bewitching Witcher.”

“Jaskier. I will break your lute if you don’t stop this.”

Jaskier grinned cheekily at Geralt over his shoulder and said, “Make me.”

Geralt did—although he did so pleasantly, with his mouth and his hands.

Hmm. Perhaps Jaskier had been wrong. Perhaps violence wasn’t the art in which Geralt excelled. Perhaps it was love, and sex, and kissing.

Yes, Jaskier mused as he sighed, entirely content, into Geralt’s passionate kiss. Perhaps it was kissing.

He would have many long years to find out.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #asks #my fic #long post #meme

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xoluvx · 5 years ago

Text

try - th x reader *submission*

Alright friends, so this is something that a friend submitted to my blog for me to share with you. I told her this is freaking amazing and she needed to share it on her blog, but alas she’s just too shy.

AGAIN THIS IS NOT MY WORK !!

But still enjoy & encourage her to keep writing 💖

@terrifictomholland *idk why her blog isn’t tagging*

Do you ever wonder how you get dragged into things?

Yeah, so do I. Today is one of those days.Your famous boyfriend Tom had been asked to do a video for the YouTube channel TRY, and since you couldn’t say no to him, you’d somehow ended up in the video with him. Taste-testing different types of disgusting drinks.

Tom was genuinely stoked about doing this, you? Not so much, you’d never really been in any kind of video, so your nerves were already shot to hell. On top of which, you would be drinking. Who knew what would happen?

You had recently gone public with your relationship with Tom. You two spoke early on that you wanted to build a strong and reliable relationship before going public, and now that you had that, you both felt the time was right.

So here you were, nervous as hell about your clothes, were they appropriate? How was your makeup and hair, did it look okay? Tom sensed something wasn’t right so he looked over at you,

“You okay babe?” he asked quietly, placing his hand on your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze. You met his gaze and nodded,

“Yeah I’m good, just a bit nervous,” you shrugged and he smiled. “It’s gonna be fine, love, you look gorgeous and people will eat this shit up,” he said cockily and so you slapped his arm getting the reaction he wanted from you, knowing you were relaxing more.

“How about a shot of..whatever we’re drinking before we start?” he smirked, “Absolutely not!” you scoffed and he laughed heartily before leaning over giving you a kiss, you couldn’t help but melting in his kiss, as you always did and he smiled against your lips knowing fully well the effect he had on you.

The two of you got a few more moments to yourselves, then before you knew it you and Tom had gone around and introduced yourself to everyone in the crew behind the scenes and you were mic'ed up and seated in front of the lights and cameras.

You felt Tom’s hand on your thigh again, just resting there comfortingly and you remembered his words, keeping you calm as he began speaking.

“Hi I’m Tom Holland and this right here is my gorgeous girlfriend Y/N L/N and we’re here today, trying various different disgusting drinks for your amusement!” he smiled and you giggled, “What could possibly go wrong?” you ask sarcastically with a grin and Tom laughs.

“Well, let’s get cracking then! Bring the first one in!” Tom says and sure enough, the first drink comes in. What the fuck? You look up at the crew behind the cameras seeing them snicker to themselves. “Are we allowed to curse here?” you ask them seeing them nod.

“What the fuck? What is this?” you exclaim in disgust. It looked like tea made out of beer, milky-like with beer froth on top. You sniffed it and the smell of it made you almost gag.

“What is this?” Tom asked with a nervous laugh at your reaction, looking at the drink skeptically. “It’s Horse Jizz,” the producer said, which was all you and Tom needed before you burst out laughing at the name.

“Well…bottoms up babe,” he said and you regretfully clinked your glass with his. You both took a careful sip and as soon as you swallowed it, it was coming right back up.

“Oh hell no,” Tom coughed and you gagged a bit. “That’s so rank!” You exclaimed reaching for your glass of water,

“What is that?” Tom asked looking up at the crew who were dying from laughter.

“It’s milk and beer,” they said and you just shook your head, “One of the worst things I have ever in my life tried, and this is just the first drink yeah?” you asked with a whine, glancing at the crew seeing them nod.

You looked over at Tom who shook his head with a grin, “Well, let’s hope for lots of booze, maybe then it’s not gonna taste as bad,” he laughed and you did too just as the next drink was brought in.

It looked harmless enough, based on looks alone. It was in a simple shot glass with clear liquid at the top and almost a whiskey colour at the bottom. “This looks harmless,” Tom said as if he had read your mind and you nodded, having a smell of it. “It’s not harmless!” You said as you began coughing. It was quite pungent and you didn’t really fancy trying it now anymore.

“My god, this is gonna be fun isn’t it?” Tom grinned taking his shot glass, waiting for you to do the same before clinking your glasses together, downing it in one go. Tom gagged this time and you coughed your lungs up. “That’s fucking disgusting!” Tom exclaimed once he regained control of himself and you were just laughing at him now. “This is an amazing idea for a video,” you managed to get out in between giggles.

“What was that?” he asked and you wanted to know too, you knew the taste very well but you couldn’t quite place it.

“Rum and Worcestershire sauce,” you both wrinkled your noses at that, “It tasted like arse,” you bluntly said making everyone double over from laughter. “Your commentary today is on point babe,” Tom laughed and you did too now, “I’m not drunk before anyone says anything! I’d just like to point out,” you added with a raised finger because you had a feeling the comments would be saying so later.

“She’s not. I’ve only ever seen her really, really pissed about 3 times. One of those times were with my family,” Tom helpfully added and you sent him a death glare, “Yeah well, Tom was no better that night either!” you retorted and he went crimson, but the producer was interested now, “Well what happened?” he prodded and you glanced at Tom seeing his pleading look, but a grin no less so you knew he was okay with you telling them a story.

“To tell this story you need some context to this alright, my family comes from Sweden and we have a holiday called Midsummer which is basically just an excuse to spend the day with your family and drinking, all day. We did this, particularly the drinking. And a lot of schnaps,” you started and Tom interrupted, “those schnaps were moonshine in disguise. I’ve never felt as poorly as I did the next day. Fuck me,” he groaned as he remembered,

“I won’t deny nor confirm that it was or wasn’t moonshine,” you grinned. It was, his whole family, beside Paddy, had drunk it.

“Anyway, Tom found a bike, Paddy’s bike to be exact, and as you know Tom is a bit bigger than Padster. So off he goes, biking around the house, all of us laughing as he’s showing off right? Well, what he didn’t see was the drain pipe hiding in the grass. So he goes right over, and it sends him right over the steering wheel of the bike and he flips over somehow, landing on the grass, nearly wetting himself laughing. I swear neither one of us has ever laughed as much as we did then,” you giggle even thinking about his epic biking adventure. Tom groaned and hid his face in his hands, undoubtedly going beet red right now. “You’re the worst girlfriend ever,” he muttered and you just giggled even more, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“Did you get injured, Tom?” the camera guy asks and Tom shook his head, “No, I wasn’t. My ego got bruised but that’s about it” he smiled glancing over at you, quickly pecking you on the lips. Now, it was your turn to blush, you hadn’t expected Tom to kiss you in the video, not that you were complaining, but pda wasn’t something he was a big fan of.

“Aw, look at the lovebirds,” the producer teased making both you and Tom blush. “Oh shut up,” Tom grinned kissing your temple.

“You ready for the second last drink?” the producer asked after a little while, breaking the little moment you and Tom had, and you both looked over and nodded.

Another shot glass was sent your way, looking like curdled Bailey’s. Immediately you were skeptical of this particular shot, “What even is this?” Tom wondered staring at it just as horrified as you were.

“Cement mixer,” the producer told you, which honestly? Didn’t tell you very much as to what it was.

“It doesn’t tell me anything, beside how horrifying it will taste when it has the word cement in it,” you shudder, picking up the vile drink, seeing Tom do the same as you,

“Cheers honey,” you said knocking the shot back and immediately you started retching once you managed to get it down. “Do you need the bin, babe?” Tom asked concerned, rubbing your back, not looking much better himself. You shook your head no with a hand you held up at your face, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.

“That was by far the worst one, it’s like curdled Baileys with something sour as an aftertaste,” Tom said, doing a pretty fair description of what it was like. “That’s pretty much exactly what it was. Baileys with lime juice,” the producer said and you just shook your head.

“Awful, so fucking awful,” you moaned putting your head against Tom’s shoulder, resting it there.

“I’m so glad this next one is the last one,” Tom said to the camera and you nodded in agreement, “Although, the last one is most definitely going to be the absolute worst one,” you concluded, “Yeah you’re right, but we’ve already drank curdled Baileys and beer-milk, how bad can it really be?” Tom reasoned, you glanced at the crew seeing the looks on their faces and you laughed, “Oh look at them! The last one is by far going to be the most disgusting!” you pouted hiding your face in Tom’s shoulder and you felt him laughing, which made you smile.

Soon enough, the last drink came in, “Oh fuck no!” Tom shouted making you jump a bit and you stared at the drink in utter horror. “What the hell?” you exclaim. It was a clear liquid with something brown-ish at the bottom and pepper mixed with what looked like cream or something.

“This is the Tapeworm,” the producer told you both and you saw Tom wrinkling his nose, “the tapeworm?” he asked unimpressed and you had to stifle a giggle at the look on his face which of course he noticed. “Why are you so giggly all of a sudden?” he pouted and without thinking you leaned forward pecking him, just like he had done to you, without fail he smiled at you.

“Your reaction is absolute golden, honey,” you grinned, “but also, if I don’t laugh right now I’m gonna cry,” you added and this time it was Tom who burst out laughing, slapping his hand to his knee.

“Shall we do this then?” he asked once he calmed down, you looked at the drink in resignation and with a sigh, you nodded.

You both held it up to your faces, clinking it together, “cheers babe,” you both said and down it went. It was a taste experience like you’d never ever had before.

Normal vodka burned on the way down as is, add Tabasco sauce to that and you were doubly fucked. That however wasn’t even the worst of it. No, that was the mayonnaise at the end which was honestly so revolting. Both you and Tom had to use the bin on that last one and once you were done throwing up you chugged the glass of water you each had.

“God damn that was rank,” he shuddered and you nodded,

“The worst thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” you agreed on, Tom got a wicked smirk on his face as he looked at the camera, “I’m the best thing you’ve had in your mouth,” he said cockily and you just gaped at him, slapping his arm, “Thomas!” you scolded him, absolutely mortified, hearing everyone around you bursting out laughing. In the end you joined in as well. “What? It’s true!” he said with an arrogant nod and you just laughed hiding your face in your hands.

“Stop it!” you laughed, “I think you should make me,” he grinned already puckering up and who were you to resist this boy anything?

#tom holland #tom holland submission #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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