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drarry-is-totally-cannon · 6 months ago

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Drarry & The Goblet of Fire: 4th Year Rewrite

Chapter 8 ~ The Quidditch World Cup

Harry arrives with the water, having only sloshed a bit onto his jeans, which he counts as a win. Outside the deceptively small tent, Mr. Weasly struggles with a pack of matches. At least twenty of the small sticks lie discarded and broken at his feet, still, he shows no signs of frustration, merely curiosity.

Taking pity, Harry heads over to him, setting his pail carefully down.

"Would you like me to show you, Mr Weasley?"

Ron's father nods enthusiastically, "Oh, yes. I'm no Molly, but I'd like to have something passable on the table before we head over to the arena."

Harry chuckles. Arthur Weasley talks about his wife as if he fell in love with her yesterday. Harry can't even remember Aunt Petunia saying anything about Uncle Vernon at all.

Harry doesn't bother asking him to just use the perfectly good fireplace inside the tent. He already heard him scolding Fred and George for trying to open the windows. "We must appear as muggle-like as possible." He reminded them, despite the blatant magic that fills the air around them.

"Well, it takes a bit of practice, but what you've got to do is . . ."

A quick learner, Mr. Weasley gets the fire started in only three more tries. Harry carefully stores the matches in his pocket, safe from Mr. Weasley's innocent destruction.

"Where should I put this?" he asks, gesturing to the pail.

"Oh, right, Ginny told me you were fetching water. You were gone a while you didn't get lost did you?"

"Oh, no. I was with Dean and Seamus."

"Good, yes, I saw Mr. Finnigan earlier. Poor man, he said he was used to all this, but these things are a bit much for anyone. He seemed alright though. He may be a muggle, but he's still Irish. Ah, right, just leave the water here, Molly packed ingredients for soup. 'Said there's no way I can mess that up. Ron and Hermione have gone to get souvenirs, you probably find them at one of the stands."

"Thanks." Harry nods and runs off again, not missing Percy telling some poor little girl and her nana off for shooting fireworks. Something about the statute of secrecy.

"All this noise? How can anyone work? Of course, Mr. Crouch is having no trouble, I must strive to be like him. I cannot be late with this report!"

It's easy to spot the cart of Bulgaria merchandise even through the mass of tents. The whole thing sparkles red.

"Hey!" Harry greets his friends, causing Hermione to jump.

"Harry! Where have you been? We haven't seen you since we got here." She frets over his glasses, still askew from ducking and dodging sparklers.

"And what are you wearing?" Ron asks, aghast. he'd been eyeing the Bulgaria scarves.

"Oh, never mind that we were looking for you." Hermione continues to fret, sounding an awful lot like Mrs. Weasley, while Ron glares at Harry's gaudy Irish pride-wear. Truth be told, he'd forgotten he still had it on.

"I was just getting water for the soup." It's part of the truth. "Seamus gave me this, I didn't exactly want to say no. The Irish are scary when they're excited."

This distracts them. "Soup?" Ron's face pales slightly, "You mean, dad's cooking?"

"Yeah, is that bad or something? He said he wasn't that good but . . .?"

"Be afraid Harry, be very afraid."

The soup went mostly untouched, which was probably a good thing seeing as it was an odd green-ish colour despite containing only carrots, beef and potatoes and some herbs, nothing that should've resulted in that colour. In Harry's opinion, it even slightly resembled the polyjuice that he, Hermione and Ron had brewed only a year and a half ago. He thinks Hermione saw it too because she exchanged a glance with Ron as he passed her the salad.

Only Fred was brave enough to try it after a dare from his twin and younger sister. He's looking a little green now, but he braves the steep arena steps without complaint.

Behind them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione munch on the snacks Harry and Hermione bought from the souvenir cart, hiding them behind their backs when Mr Weasley looks back to ensure they're still following.

As they reach the next landing a new group of wizards join them. With their neat black clothing and nearly white hair, there is no mistaking them.

"Bloody Malfoy," Ron grumbles through a mouthful of Crowley's Crackle N' Pop Crisps.

The elder Malfoys don't seem to hear Narcissa and Lucius chatting superficially with Mr. Weasley, but the youngest turns around, sneering.

"Yes, Weasley."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Rons says, words still slightly muffled.

Draco just laughs, a high and sharp sound, and turns around without a word. If Harry hadn't been watching him so closely he would've missed the wink and slightest nod of his head towards a lower platform.

The group starts walking again, and both Ron and Hermione look expectantly at Harry, usually, he would've said something to Darco by now, some insult or another, but after hearing Mr. Malfoy in the woods, the words don't come easily. Certainly, they're there, he knows in his head exactly what to say. 'Yeah, sod off, you slimy git!' but it seems so unnecessary a response to what was barely an insult.

Still, it would seem weird if he, a boy known for standing up for his friends, did nothing so he mutters "Arse." just loud enough for Draco to hear but not his parents.

A moment later, as they reach the Minister's box, Harry hears the quietest whisper, "Like my arse, do you, Potter?" The continuation of their joke from earlier makes Harry nearly choke on his crisps with laughter.

"You fucking wish, Malfoy," he says, the laughter disguising his words just enough. The adults give him funny looks.

"Enjoying yourself, Mr. Potter." Minister Fudge says amicably.

Harry sputters, trying to compose himself. "Oh, er, yes. This is such a wonderful event that you and Mr. Bagman have put together."

The Weasleys and Draco glance at him, the statement is clearly out of character, but both the minister and the Head of the Magical Games and Sports Department are pleased with the flattery.

"Indeed. May the best team win." Bagman cheers, but it isn't hard to tell who he's cheering for. Fudge seems to notice this as well, as he quickly tugs Bagman's flashing team scarf off, trying to maintain composure.

"Take that thing off, Ludo. We're supposed to be impartial." he hisses, before returning to his chat with the Irish minister.

"Hey, it was a gift from him." Bagman points carelessly to the Bulgarian Minister sitting a few seats over, making conversation with Lucius Malfoy. "How was I to tell him I can't take it? He doesn't speak a word of English."

Harry looks behind him to find that the Weasley boys have already scattered around to the railing, preoccupied with the omnioculars Harry bought for himself and Ron. Hermione, meanwhile, is in an odd position.

She sits on her knees, backward on one of the chairs, looking down between the rows.

Understandably curious, Harry walks over. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

"This is Winky," Hermione says, clearly distressed.

"Winky? What the hell is a 'Winky'?"

The green fireworks are brilliant, but no one is looking at them anymore. Everyone's eyes have been drawn down towards the field where about ten women dance. They're majestic, supernatural, extraterrestrial, and Harry has no earthly idea why but they remind him of Draco. Maybe it's their dazzling white blonde hair or the elegance with which they move. He can't think of the reason. He can't think much of anything right now.

The next thing he registers is a hand grabbing his wrist and pulling him away and down a set of stairs. He wants to protest. He doesn't want to stop watching the dancing women. He feels like were he to do so, something horrible would happen though he can't think of what.

As he's pulled, Harry turns back for a second and sees the other young men in a similar trance-like state, while the older gentleman politely looks away. He sees Hermione, unphased and still trying to console the drunken elf as she covers her large ears against the chants.

He whines when the dancing women disappear from his sight entirely.

A slender finger flicks his nose and the warm fuzzy feeling dissolves, or rather fades, not gone just diminished.

"Oh, stop drooling, Potter. You're surrounded by much prettier girls every day." Draco, it seems, hasn't missed a beat, his tone is sarcastic as usual.

Absently, Harry notes that the resemblance between Draco and the women has increased in the dark spot under the stairs. His hair seems to glow, lighting the small space. But it's only for a second, and then it's gone.

'Probably just all the arena's lighting charms anyway.'

Harry rolls his shoulders and stands up. He hadn't realised how slouched over he'd been, watching the women. He feels a little sick from the trance like he'd been drugged. His head swims and he grabs onto the closet thing he can find which is, of course, Draco Malfoy.

Draco blushes. Harry doesn't notice.

"'The actual bloody fuck was that? What are those things? I was about to . . ." Harry searches for the right words, sifting through the memories tinted by the fuzzy glow, "Jump off the railing or something. Thanks for getting me out of there." He can still hardly believe what he'd been about to do.

"Yes, and I just saved your life, Potter, now you owe me now. You were acting like even more of an idiot than usual."

'Like I wouldn't do anything for you.'

"Obviously." Harry grits his teeth, embarrassed about his reaction. He risks a glance back at the women, but they look entirely different now, snarling, with bony wings piercing through their backs like Renaissance paintings of fallen angels. The fuzzy feeling is gone, replaced by disgust.

Yet even now, it makes Harry uneasy, like they're something that could be used to distract the masses during an attack. But of course, thoughts like that are merely a side effect of constantly being hunted. Still, Harry jabs an accusatory thumb at the bird-like creatures and asks, "What. The hell. Are they?"

Draco looks almost like he wants to laugh, but then thinks better of it, seadying Harry and explaining calmly. "They're Veela."

"And Veela are?" Harry prompts, a little angry, though he's not sure why. Every other male and a few females were doing just the same as him, all heart eyes and open mouths.

"Veela are one of the few hundred species of humanoid magical creatures. Most of the time they appear as beautiful people, but their true form is that." Draco frowns down at the screeching creatures. "It comes out whenever they get angry or are preparing to attack prey. Don't worry they won't attack now, they're just throwing a tantrum."

"You can understand them?" Harry asks.

Draco ignores the question, pressing on with his textbook-like explanation, "They also go by the name 'Sirens' or 'Harpies'. They're the less prevalent but more violent cousins of the Water Sirens, also known as Merpeople. They're also somewhat connected to the fae evolutionary line. Some live in forests, some live in coastal areas, and some are nomadic. No matter where they live, they enchant prey, lure them, and then go in for the kill. Bulgaria's mascots are female, so they didn't work on me. Obviously."

Harry rolls his eyes, "Let me guess, I was in the hospital wing when we learnt this?"

Draco laughs, "No." then he hesitates, "Actually I only so much because they're part of our family history." He doesn't continue, looking suddenly wary.

"Oh, did your family like to fight with them for land or something?" Harry asks, thinking that this is something Hermione would find more fascinating, or perhaps distressing given her reaction to Winky's treatment.

Draco looks slightly offended, "Who do you think we are, Harry, some band of pillaging thieves."

" . . . Well, we are British."

Draco cocks his head, not understanding the reference to muggle museums that Harry had been dragged to on the occasions Mrs. Fig couldn't take him.

"No, the Malfoy family has always had excellent relationships with magical creatures. Actually . . . my mother is half Veela." He waits, studying Harry's face, waiting for him to make an expression of disgust like he what he gave the creatures earlier.

But Harry is silent, a thoughtful look on his face. He doesn't know what to think, but he knows that it must have taken a lot for Draco to tell him this, to reveal that the supporting pillar of his superiority complex is a lie.

Maybe Harry should feel like his world has been shaken by this revelation, he doesn't know. All he knows is that his first thought is 'That's really cool.' even though that's lame if you're older than 10.

'Potter actually taking time to consider something? This is bad, bad, bad.' Draco can feel himself beginning to shake.

But all Harry says is, "So you're not a pureblood?"

". . . Yes." The words are nearly inaudible amidst the cheers and jeers of the rabid audience around them. After a second Draco speaks up again. "Father doesn't talk about it. Mother doesn't do much either. Mother doesn't have the same mother as her sister. Her father had a short relationship with the Veela who would become her mother when he was in France for his travels. But the Veela didn't want a child or a family, she was a nomadic forest dweller, a friend of the fae, so she left my mother in the care of my Grandad, who was heartbroken. I've never met my mother's mother, but at least Grandad's wife is nice. Mother says it's important to know about your history so we visit Grandad in France a lot. Dad doesn't come." The last part is said quietly.

Harry has the sudden urge to hug Draco but doubts that Draco would enjoy that even if the boy looks sadder than he's ever seen. He does nothing for a moment, then, "I'm sorry."

"I don't need your pity, Golden Boy." The words lack vitriol, and then gathering his composure, Draco finishes his explanation. "Since Veela are so rare, they don't get talked about much. They're sort of controversial. It's kind of a 'Wizards leave them alone and they leave wizards alone' thing."

"Oh, good to know, I guess?" Harry eyes the hissing creatures as ministry officers escort them from the field. They go less than willingly.

"There isn't too much known about them, and they like it that way. Most wizards, unless they're researchers, never meet one. Professor Quirrel told us he did, but . . ."

Both boys snort.

"Yeah, he probably wasn't the most reliable, after all, he had a lot going on in his head."

With the terrible pun, they descend fully into ache-inducing laughter, not noticing the players of both teams racing onto the field for introductions.

The boys turn to watch the ceremony silently.

Even with the deafening noise, it's still too quiet. Harry's ears ring.

"Have you ever been to a game like this?" It's a stupid question. 'Of course, he has. What's wrong with you?' Harry mentally smacks himself.

Draco doesn't look at him like he's stupid, or scoff, surprisingly. He just nods. "Yes. I sit somewhere in a box like the ministers by myself while Father schmoozes."

'That's sad.' Harry thinks, watching Ireland's chasers without really seeing them. It's getting too loud again, and the feeling of foreboding is back.

"Can you tell me about them? The games, I mean." 'Anything, really. Just to fill the silence, just to make this ringing stop.'

Draco nods and launches off into the story of the latest Magpie's game he attended. His words are coloured with rare smiles. And Harry watches him, taking every one of those smiles in as if he'll never see it again. Maybe he won't.

'He looks so different.'

And when Harry looks away, back to the game he so loves, allowing Draco's voice to blend into the background, it's Draco's turn to stare.

'He never looks at me for long. Like it hurts him to stay in one place for more than a few minutes. Is that because of He-who-must-not-be-named?' He sighs.

Meanwhile, Harry is more than a little annoyed with himself, for paying so little attention to his favourite game when this is probably his one chance to go to an event like this. He barely notices when Draco passes him a pair of Omnoculars he brought from home. He takes them wordlessly.

Events like these are regular occurrences for Draco so he takes this opportunity to stare at Harry unabashedly.

'He's so still now, focused. Merlin, he's something when he concentrates. Summer holiday almost made me forget. But more than anything, he looks at peace, content, and happy. I could never make him look like that, not when the last war drags behind my name like one of Mother's capes. I don't even know what Mother and Father's part in it was and yet that is all he'll ever see when he looks at me. Should I ask him? Would he tell me?'

The boys watch in silence for a while longer. Harry watching the field and Dracow watching Harry. But it isn't long before they get talking again, at first about the plays and then about home, or in Harry's case, the Burrow, and then about school.

Harry stops himself just as he almost mentions Sirius. He wants to, so badly he wants to, he's never wanted to tell anyone about his secret so much before.

'The Malfoy's are related to the Blacks, right?' Harry remembers seeing the two names together when he was searching for Nicholas Flammel in first year. 'That would make Sirius, Draco's cousin. He wouldn't rat out his own cousin, would he? But then there's Snape . . . that complicates things. The Malfoys are close with Snape who hates my father, and Professor Lupin and probably anyone who knew them. Does that carry over? I know they'd hate my muggle-born mother, or at least Mr Malfoy would, but Sirius is a pureblood. No, better safe than sorry. Even if Draco wouldn't snitch his father might force him to, and then the ministry would catch Sirius.'

With Harry's hesitation, the conversation comes back to the topic both boys have been avoiding. How could it not when thoughts of Voldemort swirl violently in both of their heads?

Draco's face darkens. "Harry . . ." He says his first name hesitantly, worriedly, so different from the affectionate 'Potter' that's become a nickname.

Shyness isn't a trait Harry has seen in the Slytherin boy since he first approached him in the Library in second year. It looks wrong on him. Harry looks up, meeting grey eyes with his own green ones. Hoping to stare as intensely as Draco does, though he doubts he will succeed.

"Yes, Draco." Whatever it is Harry just wants him to just spit it out instead of fumbling around the bush. The feeling of bad things on the horizon has Harry on edge, he doesn't want to waste time

"H-has your scar been hurting, or anything like that?" Draco looks down as he says it.

"What?"

"You heard me." Draco snaps, then softer, the desperation he's worked so hard to hide leaking into his tone, "Please don't make me ask again."

"Oh, okay. . . . Yes. How did you know?"

"It's just that you mentioned last year that it hurt whenever He-who-must-not-be-named was near."

"Yeah, I did say that." There's something in Draco's voice that has Harry on edge. He's heard him jealous, annoyed, angry, smug, joyous, but never like this, never so devastatingly afraid.

"Have you noticed anything off lately . . . like any signs?" The question is vague, and they both know it.

"Signs? Like on the road? You know I'm only 14, I can't drive yet, not that the Dursleys would let me." The sass is only meant to fill the silence. The words dissolve into the thick air, almost as if they were never said.

"It's just that . . . I . . ." He stops, opening and closing his mouth a few times only for no sound to come out. The air is thick enough with sparklers and shouts to wrap itself around you and squeeze the air right from your lungs.

"Look, Draco, whatever it is, you can say it to me. I've gotten great at keeping secrets, and if it's about Voldemort I need to know!"

Draco flinches at the name, at Harry's sudden intensity, but nods, exhaling heavily, "I think something is going on, a-and I-I think it has something to do with my father."

Harry's eyes widened. "Your father?" But it isn't hard for him to believe. He saw how easily he'd slipped that book into Ginny's caldron that day, even if he hadn't noticed the practised motions at first. But Draco is his friend, he doesn't want him to have an evil father, impossible as it may be for him to do anything about it.

Draco's lip trembles. He knows it too. He didn't see the slip happen, but he heard whispers at home about the monster deep in the bowels of the castle, heard enough to slip the page to Hermione in the library. He knows, even if he wishes he didn't, even if he wishes he could unhear everything and be happy again like when he was younger. He knows, and as much as anyone would like there's no way he can't.

"Yes." He doesn't continue, not trusting himself to hold it together. He curses the weakness internally.

Harry waits, trying as best he can to tamp down the reflexes that tell Draco to spit it out and listen patiently. When he sees that words are failing him he decides to go first.

"You know, I've been having this dream, but it doesn't feel like a dream." It's the first time he's told anyone, "It feels like I'm really there, like somehow I'm seeing something through someone else's eyes, but I have no idea whose, and no idea why. The dreams are different every night, but they always have the same few things. A snake, and this man who looks about a half step up from complete madness. And they're plotting to kill someone . . . I think they're plotting to kill me."

Draco's looking at him now, focused and thoughtful, calming down. 'Good. I don't like seeing him so worked up, it's wrong.' So Harry continues.

"The latest one was an old house. The Riddle Estate, his estate . . ."

When Harry finishes Draco doesn't look calm. He looks even more panicked before, hands gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turn white. He pushes it down, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, calming himself before he speaks.

"So you think that he's back." He doesn't even want to say it aloud.

"I don't know what to think. I thought he was gone in the first year, then his diary came back, but the diary was destroyed so he shouldn't be able to, and yet . . ."

Darco nods, looking out at the crowd. 'All those people, thousands of people . . .' He tries to imagine the size of the crowd with all the muggle-borns, and half-bloods gone. It doesn't look good.

"Father has been talking about an event to happen at school this year, but there have been . . . other things as well." He can't look at Harry.

"Other things?" Harry has to prompt Draco again. It's like he can't make himself say the words like he's too afraid that will make it all real.

"He's had these people over."

"What people?" Oddly, as Draco keeps talking Harry grows more patient, not less, maybe because he can see the other boy fraying at the edges, a singular thought eating at him.

'I knew my father wasn't a kind man, but is he an evil one?'

"I- I don't know but they all wear these big black cloaks, like dementors. They go to the basement and lock the door, but I can hear them through the vent in my room. The things they talk about, Harry . . ." It's the second time today he's used Harry's first name, only about the third time ever. "Horrible things. Making Hogwarts more selective is one thing, but torture is-" a sob cuts him off, "I- I think my father is a murderer . . . I think he's one of them! And I think they're planning to do something tonight!"

Draco crumples in on himself. Normally he looks older than Harry, so much more mature, and polished, but now he's just a 14-year-old boy who doesn't want a monster for a father. He might like to play at it with his friends, but he doesn't want anything to do with real evil.

Harry is deeply confused. "One of whom, Malfoy? Do what?" He feels the slightest bit awkward using Draco's surname after Draco hadn't used his.

"Death Eaters, Potter, Death Eaters. Don't tell me you don't know!" He sobs again, distraught, face buried in his hands.

Harry doesn't know. He doesn't know what Death Eaters are. He doesn't know what to do with the sobbing boy at his feet.

"I don't." he says stupidly, feeling less like 'The Chosen One' than ever. He's said a lot of stupid things today. 'Another pattern.' he thinks bitterly.

This only makes Draco sob harder. "They're his followers, Harry. Who else would they be!?" The words are thick under the tears. Harry doesn't need any more clarification. The dream invades his mind again, the gardener once again falling at his feet, eyes still wide in shock from whatever reptilian creature he saw in that chair before his untimely death.

Struggling to blink away the green, Harry kneels down, levelling with Draco. Normally he's the paranoid one, and Ron is assuring him that nobody is trying to kill him. "Uh, look, Mal- er Dr- Malfoy, thanks for telling me, but even if he is a Death eater, Voldemort is dead, there'd be no point in trying to follow a dead guy. . . . And this event has got loads of security, like everywhere. There's no way anything could happen." It isn't comforting, and Harry knows it. He doesn't even believe what he's just said, after all, Hogwarts is the most protected place in England and Voldemort already got in once.

Obviously, Draco isn't comforted, but neither boy needs to mention that, so he just sinks further into himself. Then after a while, Draco looks up, his face like a small child, "Are you going to tell anyone?"

He should. He knows it. But with Draco looking at him so desperately he can only ask, "Do you want me to?"

Draco shakes his head, then nods, "I don't know."

'He's still Draco's father. Would it be better to have an evil father than no father at all? I'll never know, but we shouldn't rush into this. His father is a respected member of the Ministry, an accusation would likely be dismissed unless there was heaps of proof. I doubt some suspicious meeting would get it.' Harry feels as if he's been momentarily possessed by Hermione with how much careful thinking he's done today.

'What would Hermione do? Hermione would want to give someone the benefit of the doubt. She'd gather as much evidence as she could, analyse it, and then make a conclusion. The Scientific Method. But if there really is to be some sort of attack tonight, then we haven't got much time. And with the way Mr. Malfoy looked at Draco earlier . . . like if he couldn't be useful he shouldn't exist at all. I didn't like it. Having him spy would be definatley dangerous.' He doesn't know exactly why or exactly when the thought of Draco getting hurt became so utterly off the table, the same as Ron or Hermione.

"Okay, erm, I believe you. But let's just take this slow. We need proof. And he's still your dad, so-"

"I know that!" The words are supposed to sound biting, Harry thinks, but Draco's voice is too broken.

Before Harry registers his movement he's against Draco, arms encircling the crying boy, pulling him closer, as if only Harry's arms could keep him safe.

Draco freezes, then leans into it. They stay like that for a while, neither of them knowing how to end the contact without seeing the awkward look that must surely be on the other's face. Eventually, they do separate, both blushing, and both ignoring it. Wordlessly, Harry helps the still-stiff Draco back to his feet.

Footsteps behind them make both boys freeze like deer in headlights, but it's just an old woman and a young girl.

'Aren't they who Percy was yelling at earlier?'

"Oh, no need to stop on my account," she assures them as she walks by, smiling sweetly as she lets her granddaughter lead them back to their seats.

At this, the boys spring apart, as if having just touched hot metal.

"Sorry." Harry offers dumbly. "It's just Hermione, she likes to be hugged when she's upset, and Ron always hugs Hermione and me so I thought- Whatever."

Draco nods but gives no more response.

The two don't touch again, standing an awkward distance, too close for enemies but not close enough for friends. Strangers.

#draco x harry #drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #drarry fic #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry x draco #prev tags #triwizard tournament #harry potter rewrite #hpdm fanfic #hpdm #dmhp #harco

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braveclementine · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 8

Warnings: None (anyone can read this story)

𝓑𝓘𝓛𝓛𝓨 and Tommy were greeted rather enthusiastically by Wanda and Vision. Wanda hugged them fiercely, before leading them through the tower to show them where they would be staying. All four of them seemed very happy about the arrangement, which was nice.

Meanwhile, Steve carried me back upstairs to their room, to which I watched as he and Bucky undressed and climbed into bed with each other. They made weird sounds from there, but they didn't bother me to much as I gave myself a firm wash and then laid down for a cat nap.

When I awoke again and padded down the empty hallway, the elevator doors opened the minute I reached them, and I was nearly stepped on by a black heel.

I meowed loudly, dodging to the side and looking up at the woman standing there. She had wavy blond hair and plain features.

She just glanced at me before heading down the hallway in the direction I had just come from.

Hmpf. Stuck up woman. Didn't even give me a pet.

Once I reached the kitchen, I found it emptier than usual. Bucky was on some sort of device, Steve cooking at the stove. Sam, Clint, and Gnat were no where in sight and neither were Bruce, Pepper, Wanda, Vision, or Road.

It was just Bucky, Steve, and Tony today apparently.

"Hi Blizzard." Tony said as I leaped up onto the table to join him. "I made you a little collar. Just in case of emergencies you'll come back to us."

He showed me the cute little pink collar studded with small gems around it. I wasn't entirely sure if it would be comfortable, but it was cute looking so I was sure it was okay.

"Okay, head up." Tony said softly. I lifted my head up and felt him wrap the collar around my neck, fitting it perfectly. There was a small, strange, six-sided pointy shape that had the word 'Blizzard' on it.

"I like the snowflake." Bucky said, looking up from the device before looking back down.

"Thank you." Tony said, tugging slightly to make sure it was on or something. I was right, it wasn't to bad to wear.

"Are those real diamonds?" Steve asked as he set down eggs and some strange, greasy smelling meat.

"Yes." Tony said.

What was a diamond?

Steve set a small saucer of milk in front of me. There was also some small, strange brown round things in another bowl. They smelled dry and sort've like meat, but not good meat. Like fake meat.

"What the fuck is this?" I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

Bucky burst out laughing, "I knew she wouldn't like it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. please let Clint know he owes me $10."

"Yes Mr. Barnes." Friday replied.

A piece of paper suddenly flew through a hole in the wall with lines over it. Bucky caught it, showing me that there was a 10 on each corner of the paper, and pocketed it.

"Here you go Blizzard, would you rather have this?" Steve asked, putting a few scraps of normal chicken on the plate. I mewed happily, chewing on it immediately.

"Oh well." Bucky said with a shrug, "It saves us money on the cat food I guess. It costs more than the chicken, beef, and fish does anyways."

"True." Tony said.

I padded over to Bucky after my meal, looking at what he was doing. His computer was flashing with several colours as he jumped from a blue bus out of the sky. I was confused, because it wasn't him.

I looked at him, "How are you in the screen? What are you doing?"

Bucky patted me on the head. "Fortnite made me a character. So now I'm playing the game. It's actually kind've fun."

"They put me in the Battle Pass years ago." Tony yawned.

"They made me into a shop character." Steve shrugged.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. They've got almost all of us on there. I mean, is there anyone they don't have?"

"Sam." Tony replied quickly. "Rhodey, I don't think they have Vision. They don't have the Wasp or Pietro."

"Wait, Sam doesn't have a character yet?" Bucky asked, a huge grin coming out over his face.

"Nope." Tony said. "Surprise really, but maybe not."

I put a paw on the laptop and felt warmth under my foot.

After a few minutes, Bucky got a crown above his head, a grin on his real life face. He stood up, moving back to the stove and I put a second paw on the device. After a few seconds, I stood on the device.

I tapped several keys with letters on them, listening to them click, before I settled down on the surface. It was very warm and I purred loudly, enjoying the favorable warmth.

"Aww Blizzard, I was using that." Bucky pouted as he came back with a cup of apple juice and the strange puffy wheaty things with syrup on them.

"Eat. Then play." Steve said, poking his fork at Bucky. "Or you'll get the keys all sticky."

I sniffed tentatively at the wheat treats, before nipping at the food.

"Oi, I don't think these are good for you." Bucky said, putting a hand between my face and the food.

Well that just made me want to eat it more.

"Kittens can have small pieces of pancakes, but sparingly and only as treats." The robot lady said.

"Hear that Blizzard. Only as a treat." Bucky said, eating the pancakes as they were called in my face.

I settled out as much as I could on his laptop, making both Tony and Steve chuckle.

"She's definitely sassy." Tony said.

"It's like she knows what we're saying." Steve smiled.

"I do though." I meowed. "Very clearly. Do you think I'm deaf?"

"Anyways, no pancake for you." Bucky declared.

I flopped over onto my side, taking up even more space than before. Bucky simply sighed and sipped his apple juice.

❆❆❆

"Hi Blizzard, what are you up to?" Bruce asked as I trekked down to the lab a couple of weeks later. "Tony isn't here right now if you're looking for him."

Disappointed, I decided to let Tony know that I had been there by rubbing my chin and scent glands over his entire area, before trotting back out of the lab.

I found Pepper next, who was in a very large room with a clipboard in hand.

"Hi Blizzard." She said, squatting down so that she could pet me, before standing up again. "So much to plan. Tony and his short notice parties. . ."

I wondered what a party was and why Tony was having one.

"What's it for?"

"Tony wants to officially show Billy and Tommy Peter as Billy and Tommy Maximoff since Vis doesn't really have a last name. They're getting along really well together, just in case you were curious. They all say you can understand everything. Anyways, they got a puppy and named him Sparky. I don't know, maybe the two of you could get along. Anyways, Tony loves his parties. It's technically not happening until next week, but with everything he wants it's almost impossible. But it'll happen, just you wait and see."

I wasn't really sure about everything she said. A lot of stuff was foreign to me. How could a cat get along with a mutt?

Later that night, I found out that Steve had to leave on a mission and he was gone for a few hours when Bucky came back into the bedroom with Gnat.

My head popped up as Bucky threw her onto the bed, kissing her neck. Gnat's arms were wrapped around his neck.

What was he doing!? That was his and Steves thing! How dare he!

"What do you think you are doing with that Gnat, Teddy bear?" I mewed, trying to jump up onto the bed. Unfortunately, they'd kicked the sheets and beds out so that it was lumpy and the landing was to uncertain for me to attempt a jump.

They ignored me, undressing each other. I hissed and mewled, but they were even louder and I was pissed.

I couldn't even get out of the room to get someone and bring them here so that they could tell Steve that Bucky was being bad.

I went back to my bed, angry and something else I couldn't recognize. I settled down into my bed, my back to that disgusting Gnat and mean Bucky.

I would have to get Steve to find out. Steve was sweet and I would not let his cinnamon heart get crushed. I knew that it was supposed to be him and Bucky. They were a duo, a pair. And now that disgusting red-haired Gnat was getting in the way.

I would make sure that Steve found out, no matter what I had to do.

⬅️➡️

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best-fictional-cat · 2 years ago

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Honestly really disappointed in you for including Harry Potter characters

You have no idea how ready I was for this question anon. If it's any consolation, Professor Mcgonagall would've given you a cookie for punching JKR in the face, so the queen is in. Also, she was suggested by two people and was the only HP character (I was honestly expecting Crookshanks and Mrs. Norris, and would've included them with even a single submission, but alas).

I'm going to talk politics now so if anyone doesn't want to read it, keep scrolling. I just want people who are mad at me for including Harry Potter to understand where I'm coming from and what's my stance on this whole thing. Just know that I am also LGBTQ+ and I support you, but the world doesn't support us.

So, the politics part is that I live in a country which has recently passed actual laws against the LGBTQ+ and nobody cares, at all. Gay marriage has never even been a thing you may hope to be legalised one day. Well, now we can't write, read or watch anything about it. Basically, it was a law about LGBTQ+ propaganda. The fun part is, they're not quite sure what exactly constitutes said propaganda. There was some beef with somewhat rainbow-coloured ice cream a little while back. Parents actually complained about that. Another example is that some of the politicians who passed the law are now complaining about a really old cartoon where a male wolf found and raised a bull who is now calling him "mom". Wow how come everybody in this country has not been turned trans after watching this as children. Sorry, irony is the only way I can cope with this shit. It's all very scary actually. JKR with her dumb tweets honestly does not feel very significant in light of all that, because words of someone who lives in another country are not real, and local laws are. Besides, I never cared about her twitter and all the additional dumb facts she was shitting out and I feel like we as a fandom should have been doing a better job of enjoying the source material and not paying attention to its creator.

Anyway, I wasn't going to exclude Harry Potter from the start. It was an integral part of many people's childhoods, including mine, and I don't see the point in denying that. So JKR turned out to be a transphobe. Well, you've bought the books like fifteen years ago. It's not like you can get a refund. If you don't want to support her, don't consume any new media. Or better yet, if you still secretly enjoy it in the closet society is putting you in, pirate it, for chrissake. People are suddenly finding so many faults in what they universally considered to be the best books in existence mere years ago. If it proves anything, then it's the power of universal hysteria over the minds of people and how much people can be forced to abandon what has been bringing them so much joy because they don't want strangers on the Internet to judge them. Also, I've come across some footage of people playing Hogwarts Legacy and honestly I just wish people were complaining about the actual game, not the politics. Because it's objectively shit and boring and isn't worth it's money at all and the only thing it has in common with the source material is that it's set in Hogwarts. Otherwise it really does piss poor job of following what was even shown in the movies, let alone the books. Don't even get me started on their pseudo-historical clothing. Or whatever it is they call side missions in this shit-show.

#it has been on my mind for awhile in case you can't tell #anyway I don't think Minnie will survive past round one with all the Attitudes people now have about the fandom heh #cat asks

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hellsitesonlybookclub · 1 year ago

Text

Around the world in 80 days, Jules Verne

CHAPTER III. IN WHICH A CONVERSATION TAKES PLACE WHICH SEEMS LIKELY TO COST PHILEAS FOGG DEAR

He rose at thirteen minutes to one, and directed his steps towards the large hall, a sumptuous apartment adorned with lavishly-framed paintings. A flunkey handed him an uncut Times, which he proceeded to cut with a skill which betrayed familiarity with this delicate operation. The perusal of this paper absorbed Phileas Fogg until a quarter before four, whilst the Standard, his next task, occupied him till the dinner hour. Dinner passed as breakfast had done, and Mr. Fogg re-appeared in the reading-room and sat down to the Pall Mall at twenty minutes before six. Half an hour later several members of the Reform came in and drew up to the fireplace, where a coal fire was steadily burning. They were Mr. Fogg’s usual partners at whist: Andrew Stuart, an engineer; John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, bankers; Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and Gauthier Ralph, one of the Directors of the Bank of England—all rich and highly respectable personages, even in a club which comprises the princes of English trade and finance.

“Well, Ralph,” said Thomas Flanagan, “what about that robbery?”

“Oh,” replied Stuart, “the Bank will lose the money.”

“On the contrary,” broke in Ralph, “I hope we may put our hands on the robber. Skilful detectives have been sent to all the principal ports of America and the Continent, and he’ll be a clever fellow if he slips through their fingers.”

“But have you got the robber’s description?” asked Stuart.

“In the first place, he is no robber at all,” returned Ralph, positively.

“What! a fellow who makes off with fifty-five thousand pounds, no robber?”

“No.”

“Perhaps he’s a manufacturer, then.”

“The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman.”

It was Phileas Fogg, whose head now emerged from behind his newspapers, who made this remark. He bowed to his friends, and entered into the conversation. The affair which formed its subject, and which was town talk, had occurred three days before at the Bank of England. A package of banknotes, to the value of fifty-five thousand pounds, had been taken from the principal cashier’s table, that functionary being at the moment engaged in registering the receipt of three shillings and sixpence. Of course, he could not have his eyes everywhere. Let it be observed that the Bank of England reposes a touching confidence in the honesty of the public. There are neither guards nor gratings to protect its treasures; gold, silver, banknotes are freely exposed, at the mercy of the first comer. A keen observer of English customs relates that, being in one of the rooms of the Bank one day, he had the curiosity to examine a gold ingot weighing some seven or eight pounds. He took it up, scrutinised it, passed it to his neighbour, he to the next man, and so on until the ingot, going from hand to hand, was transferred to the end of a dark entry; nor did it return to its place for half an hour. Meanwhile, the cashier had not so much as raised his head. But in the present instance things had not gone so smoothly. The package of notes not being found when five o’clock sounded from the ponderous clock in the “drawing office,” the amount was passed to the account of profit and loss. As soon as the robbery was discovered, picked detectives hastened off to Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre, Suez, Brindisi, New York, and other ports, inspired by the proffered reward of two thousand pounds, and five per cent. on the sum that might be recovered. Detectives were also charged with narrowly watching those who arrived at or left London by rail, and a judicial examination was at once entered upon.

There were real grounds for supposing, as the Daily Telegraph said, that the thief did not belong to a professional band. On the day of the robbery a well-dressed gentleman of polished manners, and with a well-to-do air, had been observed going to and fro in the paying room where the crime was committed. A description of him was easily procured and sent to the detectives; and some hopeful spirits, of whom Ralph was one, did not despair of his apprehension. The papers and clubs were full of the affair, and everywhere people were discussing the probabilities of a successful pursuit; and the Reform Club was especially agitated, several of its members being Bank officials.

Ralph would not concede that the work of the detectives was likely to be in vain, for he thought that the prize offered would greatly stimulate their zeal and activity. But Stuart was far from sharing this confidence; and, as they placed themselves at the whist-table, they continued to argue the matter. Stuart and Flanagan played together, while Phileas Fogg had Fallentin for his partner. As the game proceeded the conversation ceased, excepting between the rubbers, when it revived again.

“I maintain,” said Stuart, “that the chances are in favour of the thief, who must be a shrewd fellow.”

“Well, but where can he fly to?” asked Ralph. “No country is safe for him.”

“Pshaw!”

“Where could he go, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know that. The world is big enough.”

“It was once,” said Phileas Fogg, in a low tone. “Cut, sir,” he added, handing the cards to Thomas Flanagan.

The discussion fell during the rubber, after which Stuart took up its thread.

“What do you mean by ‘once’? Has the world grown smaller?”

“Certainly,” returned Ralph. “I agree with Mr. Fogg. The world has grown smaller, since a man can now go round it ten times more quickly than a hundred years ago. And that is why the search for this thief will be more likely to succeed.”

“And also why the thief can get away more easily.”

“Be so good as to play, Mr. Stuart,” said Phileas Fogg.

But the incredulous Stuart was not convinced, and when the hand was finished, said eagerly: “You have a strange way, Ralph, of proving that the world has grown smaller. So, because you can go round it in three months—”

“In eighty days,” interrupted Phileas Fogg.

“That is true, gentlemen,” added John Sullivan. “Only eighty days, now that the section between Rothal and Allahabad, on the Great Indian Peninsula Railway, has been opened. Here is the estimate made by the Daily Telegraph:—

From London to Suez viâ Mont Cenis and Brindisi, by rail and steamboats ................. 7 days From Suez to Bombay, by steamer .................... 13 ” From Bombay to Calcutta, by rail ................... 3 ” From Calcutta to Hong Kong, by steamer ............. 13 ” From Hong Kong to Yokohama (Japan), by steamer ..... 6 ” From Yokohama to San Francisco, by steamer ......... 22 ” From San Francisco to New York, by rail ............. 7 ” From New York to London, by steamer and rail ........ 9 ” ------- Total ............................................ 80 days.”

“Yes, in eighty days!” exclaimed Stuart, who in his excitement made a false deal. “But that doesn’t take into account bad weather, contrary winds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and so on.”

“All included,” returned Phileas Fogg, continuing to play despite the discussion.

“But suppose the Hindoos or Indians pull up the rails,” replied Stuart; “suppose they stop the trains, pillage the luggage-vans, and scalp the passengers!”

“All included,” calmly retorted Fogg; adding, as he threw down the cards, “Two trumps.”

Stuart, whose turn it was to deal, gathered them up, and went on: “You are right, theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically—”

“Practically also, Mr. Stuart.”

“I’d like to see you do it in eighty days.”

“It depends on you. Shall we go?”

“Heaven preserve me! But I would wager four thousand pounds that such a journey, made under these conditions, is impossible.”

“Quite possible, on the contrary,” returned Mr. Fogg.

“Well, make it, then!”

“The journey round the world in eighty days?”

“Yes.”

“I should like nothing better.”

“When?”

“At once. Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense.”

“It’s absurd!” cried Stuart, who was beginning to be annoyed at the persistency of his friend. “Come, let’s go on with the game.”

“Deal over again, then,” said Phileas Fogg. “There’s a false deal.”

Stuart took up the pack with a feverish hand; then suddenly put them down again.

“Well, Mr. Fogg,” said he, “it shall be so: I will wager the four thousand on it.”

“Calm yourself, my dear Stuart,” said Fallentin. “It’s only a joke.”

“When I say I’ll wager,” returned Stuart, “I mean it.”

“All right,” said Mr. Fogg; and, turning to the others, he continued: “I have a deposit of twenty thousand at Baring’s which I will willingly risk upon it.”

“Twenty thousand pounds!” cried Sullivan. “Twenty thousand pounds, which you would lose by a single accidental delay!”

“The unforeseen does not exist,” quietly replied Phileas Fogg.

“But, Mr. Fogg, eighty days are only the estimate of the least possible time in which the journey can be made.”

“A well-used minimum suffices for everything.”

“But, in order not to exceed it, you must jump mathematically from the trains upon the steamers, and from the steamers upon the trains again.”

“I will jump—mathematically.”

“You are joking.”

“A true Englishman doesn’t joke when he is talking about so serious a thing as a wager,” replied Phileas Fogg, solemnly. “I will bet twenty thousand pounds against anyone who wishes that I will make the tour of the world in eighty days or less; in nineteen hundred and twenty hours, or a hundred and fifteen thousand two hundred minutes. Do you accept?”

“We accept,” replied Messrs. Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan, Flanagan, and Ralph, after consulting each other.

“Good,” said Mr. Fogg. “The train leaves for Dover at a quarter before nine. I will take it.”

“This very evening?” asked Stuart.

“This very evening,” returned Phileas Fogg. He took out and consulted a pocket almanac, and added, “As today is Wednesday, the 2nd of October, I shall be due in London in this very room of the Reform Club, on Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter before nine p.m.; or else the twenty thousand pounds, now deposited in my name at Baring’s, will belong to you, in fact and in right, gentlemen. Here is a cheque for the amount.”

A memorandum of the wager was at once drawn up and signed by the six parties, during which Phileas Fogg preserved a stoical composure. He certainly did not bet to win, and had only staked the twenty thousand pounds, half of his fortune, because he foresaw that he might have to expend the other half to carry out this difficult, not to say unattainable, project. As for his antagonists, they seemed much agitated; not so much by the value of their stake, as because they had some scruples about betting under conditions so difficult to their friend.

The clock struck seven, and the party offered to suspend the game so that Mr. Fogg might make his preparations for departure.

“I am quite ready now,” was his tranquil response. “Diamonds are trumps: be so good as to play, gentlemen.”

#hellsitesonlybookclub #bookblr #jules verne #80 days

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loxare · 2 years ago

Text

Well my phone started dying, and I require podcasts to function if I'm going to get this insulation in. So more episode time!

B E A R D

Love A's Business Voice. Very Business.

This totally legal, absolutely prime streaming site I'm using has subtitles on this episode! :D

Love an improbably long scroll. Also love A using modern british slang four thousand years early

THE SUN IS A DEADLY LASER

Gabriel's hair is weird. He looks like a businessman who spent too much time on a tropical vacation and let his hair grow free

Not related to the episode but I should maybe put on a long sleeved shirt. This green insulation isn't as itchy as the old pink stuff, but my arms are still a little. Hm.

Heaven's moral code is. Uh. Not good. Reminds me of all those angsty Batman writers who go "I won't kill you, but I don't have to save you either" like no, that's not how that works, Batman always tries to save people

HE HAS CLOTHES

Oh no. That's a terrible shelving system. Although it might be good for Mr. A "I don't want customers in my shop" ziraphale, so hey

Crowley where is your apartment? Although I did just notice the plants in the backseat, so that's one mystery that wasn't a mystery solved. Why doesn't he have his apartment?

I like Shax's giant ass bows. And also I like that they got this actress back for this. I liked her in the first season and she wasn't there nearly enough

Ok, so I thought that heaven's systems were just weirdly highly tuned but nope. That stealth miracle was instead SUPER MASSIVE. Oh boy. Kinda wondering if Gabriel is not, in fact, amnesiac and did something to fuck with the miracle

Oh no. I've heard this is the thing music store people hate the most. Do not ask them what's the song that goes like this. If A knew how to use a computer that wasn't from the 80s, I'd say he should just google the lyrics, but

Poor Maggie. I feel like a quiet, probing "anyone waiting for you at home" before bringing over an LP would have been a good idea

Oh! She actually did know. OH THE PUB DOES THE SAME THING AS THE BENTLEY. That was never brought up last season though so hey, nice book reader easter egg

Miracled wheelchair ramp

Love the miracle unit of meaaurement

COLOUR OF MAGIC!!!!!!!!

A is bad at lying. Bro, at least lie about something that's already happened.

JIM DON'T DO THAT THOSE ARE ANTIQUES

Oh no, forced party hosting. A nightmare

Oh no. Matchmaking.

I love. How different A&C's experiences with Jane Austen were

Oh purple shiny eyes. Coolio

Ok so the amnesia is real. Is he like. Properly human now? For some reason? Not just an angel in a human form?

Oh no, the beard is part of a plot point

I wonder is C is like. Enjoying this. He wouldn't in modern times I don't think, but right now he might be venting a bit.

Oh, that's the Crowley I know. Alrighty then

Oh wow. These children of God's Beloved are uh. Entitled brats. I think they should get turned into goats for a bit. It'll keep them out of harm's way and also show them that they aren't invincible and that bad things can, in fact, happen to them. Also, Jemimah is adorable

Oh, that works too

Ah, the first bite of food. Imagine how he'll feel when he has it not several hours cold

Crowley watching Job being able to Question without Consequence. Or maybe the Consequences came first

SHOEMAKING AND OBSTETRICS

Oh, clever. Handy that they had those beef ribs. But dang, they were picked clean

These angels are. Not very wise to the ways of humanity. I. This shouldn't have worked. Very glad it did! But this should be like. A Problem. The angels should have these kinds of gaps in knowledge

And Aziraphale does a Lie

Is C doing the rain plan?

I think Nina deserves a better partner. Like, getting stuck in the shop during a power outage was in no way her fault. I don't know if this is abuse yet -it seems that way and it seems like the show is pointing that way, but I'm keeping judgement down for now - but it's definitely manipulative and not good partner behaviour

A: Our car! C: My car. A: ....... Our Car

There are so many books that start with It

A having an Existential Crisis. Guaranteed God knows (omniscient) but is fine with it for reasons. Like, the bet had to be made, Job had to he tested, but he was also God's favourite, and if he doesn't lose something he dearly loves through a loophole and some machinations, I think They're ok with that. Like, this isn't punishable behaviour, as long as A&C don't get caught. But if they get caught in the bureaucracy of heaven, there's nothing to do for that

Another good episode I thinks! Poor Job. He didn't deserve that, but the point of the Bible story was that no, he really didn't deserve that. At all. I'm glad they got their children back without having to actually give birth to more children. Maybe they'll have a few more later, or maybe they'll adopt four more. Who knows, that's up to them and their 600 sheep

And my phone is just about charged. Nice.

Good omens 2 ep 1 thots under the cut!

CROWLEY LOOKS!!! SO HAPPY!!!!!! MAKING HIS NEBULA!!!!!!!!! I'm so sad he got the wind taken out of his sails. And I know exactly how much trouble he got in just for asking a few questions. Theory: God is omniscient, and as such knew Crowley needed to be a demon to save the Earth. It sucks, but it's growth for both him and Aziraphale, who needed to learn to duck around the rules, and growth tends to hurt. I'm just sad Crowley got hit that hard

Aziraphale only valid landlord???

Crowley ornithologist?????

Wait, why is the mail getting delivered to the Bentley rather than Crowley's apartment? What happened to his plants? Is he just never in his apartment so it's better to deliver to the car?

Record shop coffee shop ff slow burn

John Hamm's john & hamms are on display

This is unrelated to GO but I made wonton soup to eat while watching this and it is very good. Mmmm

Those poor tomatoes

Aziraphale's music interrupted by nudity and amnesia

Oh god heaven still hurts my eye holes. So shiny

No one tell naked amnesiac Gabriel about the existence of twins

Someone get him some pants. Aziraphale please get him some pants not just a blanket. What if he stands up?

Trailer ship bait line is a good line. Aziraphale thinks of Crowley and goes all soft

"The thing" is probably the box that was doing a lot of heavy lifting to keep this show PG, that was also dropped when the door opened and left in the street. Someone should probably go pick that up before someone else takes it

Ah. Good, it's still there

Oh her name is Shax. Neat! I love Crowley's hair swirlies. The ones on top. They're nice

Gabriel's Jim's terrible short term memory will absolutely be remembering Gabriel and not retaining anything else

The reaction to a bit of litter in heaven is killing me

So Crowley is one of those coffee drinkers. Also, if I were the record shop lady, I'd bake Aziraphale a thank you cake

Getting tired of writing out all the names, sk they're just A and C now

Oh no, the coffee shop lady is taken. Poor record shop lady

Blanket toga is not a substitute for clothes

I thought "ask him properly" would lead to some magic angel stuff, not asking more aggressively

ARGUMENTS. I feel like A is playing on the time last season when C left, saying he was going to go to another galaxy (Andromeda?) and then ended up regretting that. To clarify, I'm currently paused so I haven't heard C's response yet so this entire paragraph could become moot

I feel like C's going through some stuff that he hasn't told A about

Man drinks six shots of espresso, spontaneously combusts, gets struck by lightning

The relationship and circumstances around these two shop keepers is so fanfiction. If they don't get together, I hope they can spend the time trapped in this coffee shop bonding and becoming besties. Also, there should be a manual override for the security system. Not having one is stupid, because of things like this. What if they were trapped in the record shop instead, and there was no readily available food? An internal manual override is crucial

I like Micheal's sleeve cuffs

Ooo, disabled angel!

Muriel I hope you get some confidence. And also I want your skirt

Small bit of litter confuses and confounds angels

Oh, wonder why Beelzebub got recast. (Don't go out of your way to look it up I don't care enough to check myself and definitely not enough to inconvenience someone else)

So. The conflict here is that C could give up Jim, get a promotion and that's a problem taken off his hands, but A would be mad at him. Or, he could do not that and risk both him and A getting erased from existence entirely, which will uh, make it so the apocalypse last season did not get stopped. Oh boy

Oh this coffee shop lady does not care for records. At all

Crowley "my bad" actually made me die laughing so that was excellent and also my ghost is now typing this

Oh I do not care for the tone of Lindsay's texts. At all. Nina you deserve better. I do like the format of the texts coming up though. The paper and red pen makes it seem a lot more personal and angry and uh. Not good.

One of those said "remember what we said about mutual respect" and blowing up your partner's phone angrily because they're late isn't respect, which is necessary in the "mutual" bit of mutual respect. I would personally be concerned that something had happened. Maybe walk down and see if they're alright. Assume that their phone had died maybe, idk

A: glasses on. C: glasses off

"You were right" does not contain the word sorry and oh good, A knows that. Oh there's a dance? 👀

Why. Why do they do that. This is hilarious, but I feel like it makes it more difficult to apologize for things if there's a humiliating dance involved. Which also still doesn't contain the word sorry

Jim go back upstairs. Also, why does he still not have clothes?

See, in the trailer, Muriel didn't recognize Gabriel, and I thought that was just because they've never met. Interesting to see that, no, there's an active reason for that

Being persona non grata with heaven means A isn't allowed to do miracles anymore? Or just that the miracles he does are more heavily scrutinized?

Ah, the old "immediate proof that the last thing said was completely wrong" trope. Also, weird seeing heaven with a red filter

Ah. Bit of warning for people sensitive to flashing lights. I don't think this flashes fast enough, it's a hard cut between red filtered heaven and white heaven, with a second or two between each cut. But like. Go carefully. It only lasts for a bit and there aren't too many interesting visuals during it. Right after C says "no one will have noticed a thing", stops when Uriel asks for the alarm to stop

Oh A. Can't stay out of trouble to save his life

All in all, I liked it a lot! I'm looking forward to the hijinks A&C get into, I really want to know why C's mood is so foul rn when he was generally cheery at the end of last season, or as cheery as he gets, wondering about all the empty boxes. One empty box is fine, but two? Suspicious. Hoping Nina dumps Lindsay, has a nice long recovery period where she can enjoy being herself, and then gets together with record shop lady, whose name I will remember sometime probably. But I'm out of soup, out of tea, and out of excuses to not pull nails from my wall, so I'm gonna go do that now

#Loxie has words #Loxie liveblog #loxie watches go

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aroundtheworldwithphillyfogg · 2 years ago

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October 2nd, 1872, 7pm : Phileas Fogg makes a bet

(This is the third post today. Here first post, second post and fourth post)

Phileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven, and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club, an imposing edifice in Pall Mall, which could not have cost less than three millions. He repaired at once to the dining-room, the nine windows of which open upon a tasteful garden, where the trees were already gilded with an autumn colouring; and took his place at the habitual table, the cover of which had already been laid for him. His breakfast consisted of a side-dish, a broiled fish with Reading sauce, a scarlet slice of roast beef garnished with mushrooms, a rhubarb and gooseberry tart, and a morsel of Cheshire cheese, the whole being washed down with several cups of tea, for which the Reform is famous. He rose at thirteen minutes to one, and directed his steps towards the large hall, a sumptuous apartment adorned with lavishly-framed paintings. A flunkey handed him an uncut Times, which he proceeded to cut with a skill which betrayed familiarity with this delicate operation. The perusal of this paper absorbed Phileas Fogg until a quarter before four, whilst the Standard, his next task, occupied him till the dinner hour. Dinner passed as breakfast had done, and Mr. Fogg re-appeared in the reading-room and sat down to the Pall Mall at twenty minutes before six. Half an hour later several members of the Reform came in and drew up to the fireplace, where a coal fire was steadily burning. They were Mr. Fogg’s usual partners at whist: Andrew Stuart, an engineer; John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, bankers; Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and Gauthier Ralph, one of the Directors of the Bank of England—all rich and highly respectable personages, even in a club which comprises the princes of English trade and finance.

“Well, Ralph,” said Thomas Flanagan, “what about that robbery?”

“Oh,” replied Stuart, “the Bank will lose the money.”

“But have you got the robber’s description?” asked Stuart.

“In the first place, he is no robber at all,” returned Ralph, positively.

“What! a fellow who makes off with fifty-five thousand pounds, no robber?”

“No.”

“Perhaps he’s a manufacturer, then.”

“The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman.”

“I maintain,” said Stuart, “that the chances are in favour of the thief, who must be a shrewd fellow.”

“Well, but where can he fly to?” asked Ralph. “No country is safe for him.”

“Pshaw!”

“Where could he go, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know that. The world is big enough.”

“It was once,” said Phileas Fogg, in a low tone. “Cut, sir,” he added, handing the cards to Thomas Flanagan.

The discussion fell during the rubber, after which Stuart took up its thread.

“What do you mean by ‘once’? Has the world grown smaller?”

“And also why the thief can get away more easily.”

“Be so good as to play, Mr. Stuart,” said Phileas Fogg.

“In eighty days,” interrupted Phileas Fogg.

From London to Suez viâ Mont Cenis and Brindisi, by rail and steamboats ....................................... 7 days From Suez to Bombay, by steamer ...................13 ” From Bombay to Calcutta, by rail ......................3 ” From Calcutta to Hong Kong, by steamer ........13 ” From Hong Kong to Yokohama (Japan), by steamer ..... 6 ” From Yokohama to San Francisco, by steamer ......... 22 ” From San Francisco to New York, by rail .............7 ” From New York to London, by steamer and rail ........ 9 ” ------- Total ............................................ 80 days.”

“Yes, in eighty days!” exclaimed Stuart, who in his excitement made a false deal. “But that doesn’t take into account bad weather, contrary winds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and so on.”

“All included,” returned Phileas Fogg, continuing to play despite the discussion.

“But suppose the Hindoos or Indians pull up the rails,” replied Stuart; “suppose they stop the trains, pillage the luggage-vans, and scalp the passengers!”

“All included,” calmly retorted Fogg; adding, as he threw down the cards, “Two trumps.”

Stuart, whose turn it was to deal, gathered them up, and went on: “You are right, theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically—”

“Practically also, Mr. Stuart.”

“I’d like to see you do it in eighty days.”

“It depends on you. Shall we go?”

“Heaven preserve me! But I would wager four thousand pounds that such a journey, made under these conditions, is impossible.”

“Quite possible, on the contrary,” returned Mr. Fogg.

“Well, make it, then!”

“The journey round the world in eighty days?”

“Yes.”

“I should like nothing better.”

“When?”

“At once. Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense.”

“It’s absurd!” cried Stuart, who was beginning to be annoyed at the persistency of his friend. “Come, let’s go on with the game.”

“Deal over again, then,” said Phileas Fogg. “There’s a false deal.”

Stuart took up the pack with a feverish hand; then suddenly put them down again.

“Well, Mr. Fogg,” said he, “it shall be so: I will wager the four thousand on it.”

“Calm yourself, my dear Stuart,” said Fallentin. “It’s only a joke.”

“When I say I’ll wager,” returned Stuart, “I mean it.”

“All right,” said Mr. Fogg; and, turning to the others, he continued: “I have a deposit of twenty thousand at Baring’s which I will willingly risk upon it.”

“Twenty thousand pounds!” cried Sullivan. “Twenty thousand pounds, which you would lose by a single accidental delay!”

“The unforeseen does not exist,” quietly replied Phileas Fogg.

“But, Mr. Fogg, eighty days are only the estimate of the least possible time in which the journey can be made.”

“A well-used minimum suffices for everything.”

“But, in order not to exceed it, you must jump mathematically from the trains upon the steamers, and from the steamers upon the trains again.”

“I will jump—mathematically.”

“You are joking.”

“We accept,” replied Messrs. Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan, Flanagan, and Ralph, after consulting each other.

“Good,” said Mr. Fogg. “The train leaves for Dover at a quarter before nine. I will take it.”

“This very evening?” asked Stuart.

The clock struck seven, and the party offered to suspend the game so that Mr. Fogg might make his preparations for departure.

“I am quite ready now,” was his tranquil response. “Diamonds are trumps: be so good as to play, gentlemen.”

#Around the World in 80 Days #jules verne #phileas fogg #around the world in 80 dailies

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fanficsandthings · 4 years ago

Text

Through the Years, Ch. 7

A George Weasley Fanfiction

A George Weasley x Slytherin reader story.

Each chapter shares events in one year of George and reader’s life together.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author’s note: i know i’m like 3 months late on posting this chapter, but i promise i haven't abandoned this fic.

Year 1, Year 2, Year 3, Year 4, Year 5, Year 6

Year 6, Part 2: Fireworks

The heavy rain soaked through your clothes as you made your way into King’s Cross. It had been raining hard since early that morning, and the heavy gloom that hung over London was starting to take hold in your chest. The events of two weeks prior were impossible to purge from your mind, and on days like this the memories slowly crept their way forward. You swore that green skull could illuminate the sky again at any moment, so instead, you forced yourself to think about other things.

You uncle and dad had been talking for weeks about an event happening at Hogwarts this year, but they wouldn’t give anything away. All you knew was that you needed a fancy dress, which you bought a week ago at a second hand store. It now sat in the bottom of your trunk, its intended use unknown to you for now.

You no longer needed the motivation to run through the brick wall that separated platforms 9 and 10, like you did in your first year. You and your father casually waited by the wall, wringing the water from your clothes, as you watched the muggles pass by. When all was clear, you casually leaned against it, disappearing suddenly to anyone who might’ve cared to notice.

The steam from the scarlet coloured engine filled the platform, the people rushing about looking more like ghosts than corporeal beings. You searched briefly for a family of redheads, but quickly gave up and turned your attention to the items you had brought with you.

You checked quickly on Minnie, whose carrier was concealed under your rain jacket on top of your trunk. She was dry, just a little perturbed at all the movement happening on the trip here.

“You packed the camcorder, right?” your father asked. “And the extra tapes?”

“Yes,” you told him, “they were the first things I packed.”

“And you’re sure you know how to use it?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure we went over it about 100 times.”

“I just don’t want you to get there and then not be able to capture anything,” he said, looking around at the people on the platform. He lowered his voice a bit to speak the next part. “It’s going to be a very fun year. I don’t want you to forget any of it.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Will you please stop being so secretive, and tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” he told you.

You were about to protest and beg for more information when three more people came through the platform portal. Ron, Hermione, and Harry appeared before you, squinting through the steam.

“Oh, look!” your dad cut you off, ignoring the annoyed look on your face. “Friends! Now, go get on the train with them. I might see you sooner than you think.”

You said a very quick goodbye before turning to the three newcomers. They were still looking through the steam, trying to orientate themselves before heading to the train. You snuck up as quietly as your trunk would allow, thankful that the train engine was letting off some noise.

“What’re you looking for?” you shouted, right in between Ron and Harry’s heads. It caused all three of them to jump; the owls in the cages they were holding hooted frantically as they got tossed around.

“Please don’t do that,” Hermione voiced as she clutched her chest.

“Sorry,” you said, smiling, “I couldn’t resist.” You turned your head to look at the brick wall briefly. “Where is..”

“Your boyfriend?” Ron butt in. He turned to Harry and made a fake gagging noise. Harry let out a laugh, amused at his friend’s actions.

“Right behind you,” a familiar voice said. You turned to see Charlie, Fred, and George. George was smiling brightly at you. “We just passed your dad on the other side of the barrier.”

“Charlie!” you exclaimed, giving him a quick hug. “I expected you to be back in Romania by now.”

“Do we even exist?” George whispered to Fred.

“Apparently not when Charlie’s around,” Fred answered.

You rolled your eyes as you turned to the twins. “I’m gonna see you two constantly for the next 10 months. I rarely see Charlie.”

“I took extended time off,” Charlie said, answering your question, “because I’ll be working a little extra in a couple of months.”

Ginny, Bill, and Mrs. Wealsey made their way through the wall behind the twins.

“Hello,” Mrs. Weasley greeted upon seeing you.

“Molly, it’s so good to see you. I was a little disappointed that I didn't get to see you at the Quidditch Cup,” you told her, giving her a hug.

“Quidditch isn’t really my thing, dear,” she informed you. “But I might get to see you all again soon.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” you asked.

“It’s nothing,” she said, pushing you back towards Fred and George.

“We should get going,” you said to the twins. “We need to find Lee and seats”

The twins said goodbye to their family, and you all headed off through the steam towards the train. You found Lee, who had already boarded and was saving a compartment for the three of you. You stuffed your trunks above the seats and put Millie’s carrier in the seat next to the door.

It was a weird feeling, purposefully sitting so close to George on the train; him next to the window and your head leaning on his shoulder so you could watch the countryside pass by. Really, it’s not like much had changed from being just friends to dating. You had always sat close to each other before, even holding hands when the situation allowed for it. Something seemed to change over the last couple months, though, and now you felt more comfortable than ever resting your head against George.

Maybe it was the fact that you could hold hands now without people whispering in the background and speculating about you. Or the fact that you could run your hands through his hair, which he had let grow a little longer over the summer, and not be worried about accidentally looking into his brown eyes and having to hide your embarrassment over the matter. You could freely count the freckles splattered across his face and name the constellations you made in them. Freckles that would always remind you of the falling snow on the night you first kissed.

At some point, you let Minnie out of her carrier, letting her roam freely around the compartment, careful to make sure the door was securely closed. She eventually found a comfy stop on the seat between Fred and Lee. You watched as she curled up into a ball, her tail carefully covering her eyes, as if to block out any light.

As the train rolled on and the rain outside got heavier, the windows fogged up, making it impossible to see outside. You turned your full attention to the conversation happening. Lee was talking about what he did over break, and brought up the Quidditch World Cup.

Your eyes moved briefly to the window, thinking you might see the bright green light shining through the rain. George saw your movement and squeezed your hand in reassurance, a small smile on his face. You smiled back at him, telling him that you’d be alright.

Lee mentioned that his father had been cheated out of money over a bet he made with Ludo Bagman at the Cup.

“That dirty little cheat!” Fred yelled at the mention of Bagman’s name, causing Minnie to startle beside him.

“He took our money, too,” George added on. “He paid us back in leprechaun gold.”

“That’s exactly what he did to my dad,” Lee said.

“You bet all the money you had saved, didn’t you?” you asked Fred and George.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed.

“We’ll have to find another way to open the shop now,” George said.

“I still have some money saved up,” you told them. “About 20 Galleons when converted from muggle money. It’s not much but maybe we could find something to invest it in.”

“We couldn’t ask you to give us your money,” Fred said.

“Yeah, I’m sure there’s other things you could use that money for, right? ” George inquired.

“Not really,” you told them. “I’ve always planned to help you with Weasley Wizard Wheezes one way or another. Whether that be through money or inventing inventory.”

“Oh,” George said rather quietly beside you. “Thank you.”

You leaned up and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. “Anything for you, Georgie.”

“And you know I’m always here to test out products,” Lee chimed in.

“Oh, speaking of which,” you voiced, “did you finish those Canary Creams in the last two weeks?”

“Not quite,” George told you. “There’s still some kinks to work out, but give us a few weeks and some of Snape’s potion supplies and we’ll get them done.”

“But!” Fred said, pulling a small, wrapped treat out of his pocket. “We did nail down the yellow hair color.”

“Now we have all the house colors down,” George finished.

“And I think we should take advantage of that,” you said with a grin. You grabbed the sweet from Fred’s hand. “This one’s yellow?” He nodded. “And you guys still have a beef against Cedric for winning the quidditch match last year?”

“We should’ve gotten a rematch,” all three of them said in unison.

“I know, I know,” you said, faking sympathy.

The rest of the train ride was spent slipping sweets into other student’s train compartments and hiding in the hallway until you heard a couple screams. Cedric didn’t really seem to mind too much; being more embarrassed of the attention his friends were giving him because of it, opposed to being mad. You did manage to slip a pink one into Draco’s compartment, but one of his oversized bodyguards ended up eating it instead.

You found Adrian Pucey, who was trying to rekindle your friendship a little bit. He had written to you over the summer a few times. You gave him a blue haired sweet just because you wanted to see if the color would look good on him. It really didn’t, as the Ravenclaw blue didn’t mix with his complexion very well. You made him promise to sit next to you at the welcome feast, and you’d reverse the effects then.

Overall, you were very happy to be going back to Hogwarts where you’d be able to hang out with your friends again.

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

The term seemed to pass too quickly with all the Tournament excitement going on. You had been concerned for Harry ever since his name was pulled out of that blasted goblet, but ever since he won the first task, he seemed to be in a much better mood.

You had snuck out of the castle the night before the first task with Fred and George to meet up with Charlie. He had excitedly shown you the dragons they had brought from Romania, their fiery breaths keeping you warm in the cool November air. You had never seen creatures like this upclose before, and they intrigued you enough to think for just a moment that maybe you wouldn’t mind working in Romania with Charlie.

A month after that, you found Hogwarts covered in snow, the winter chill finally settling in the castle corridors. Fireplaces blazed in every room, warming you ever so slightly as you sat by them. The fireplace in your dorm room did little to help fight the cold of the Black Lake. Again, just like last year, you spent most of your nights in the Gryffindor common room, curled up next to George by their roaring fire.

Minnie took to spending her nights in George’s room. She seemed to be making friends with Crookshanks, as you would sometimes find them cuddled together in the common room.

At times you felt bad for the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. Their carriage and ship didn’t seem like the warmest of homes. You’d look across the school grounds and see them covered in ice and snow, and it would send a shiver down your spine every time.

Christmas Eve came, and the entire school was filled with excitement over the Yule Ball the next day. You were excited too, but there was one more thing you needed to do before that day came.

You had told George to meet you in the Astronomy tower in his pajamas at 10pm on Christmas Eve, a surprise all planned out in your head. You had stolen the radio from the Slytherin common room for the night. It had taken you and Adrian over a week to figure out how to get muggle radio stations to play on it, but eventually you got past all the magical interference and were able to listen to muggle music for the first time in almost four months. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy The Weird Sisters, but sometimes you just missed the music your mum would listen to at home.

You set up your camcorder in one corner of the tower by the stairs, getting as much of the room in frame as you could. With no one else in the room to film, it would be the best shot you could get with the camera.

You met George at the base of the tower five minutes before 10, confusion etched on his face.

“I see you wore the pajamas with a little lion embroidered on them,” you teased him, reaching for his hand. “My cute little Gryffindor.”

He blushed at your words, but he took your hand nonetheless and let you lead him up the stairs.

“You’re literally wearing the same ones but with a snake embroidered,” George said.

“Hey, your mum made them, and I love them,” you told him. You squeezed his hand as you both laughed.

Music from the radio played softly from the top of the tower, a song that neither of you had heard before. When you reached the top of the stairs, you paused briefly to press the record button on the camera. This caused a confused look to make its way onto George’s face, but you reassured him that nothing harmful was going to happen.

You pulled him to the middle of the room, the chill from the winter night just barely reaching you. Pulling him close to you, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. George instinctively put his arms around your waste. You started to sway to the slow song coming from the radio.

“We haven’t been up here in a while,” George whispered.

“Not since fourth year when we flew right into the middle of Professor Sinistra’s nighttime class,” you said, laughing.

“Hey, we both expected her to have a midnight class that night,” George said, “not an 8pm class.”

“I didn’t even mind the detention we got from it,” you told him. “I was just happy that I beat you in the race up here.”

“I remember you cheating to beat me up here,” George said, wrinkling up his nose to tease you. “You and your old money Malfoy broom nearly knocked me into the castle wall.”

“All’s fair in love and war, Georgie,” you said. “I was just using the speed that broom gives me to its full potential.”

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d still be mad about it.” He leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. “I still can’t believe you finally let me kiss you a year ago now.”

“You can thank Charlie for that actually. He gave me a little pep talk before I came outside that night.” You rested your head against his chest, listening to him hum along to the music. “Do you know this song?”

“I’ve heard you play it before while you were at my house. I quite like it.”

You pulled yourself as close to George as possible, trying to absorb his body heat. You hadn’t really thought about the open balcony and the winter weather when you planned this out. You leaned against him and swayed with the song, only really listening to his heartbeat through his chest. When the song was over and a more upbeat one came on, you pulled away just enough to look at his face.

“Do you think Dumbledore really got The Weird Sisters to play tomorrow night,” you asked.

“I hope so,” he said with a small laugh. “It’s all everyone’s been talking about the past few days.”

“Speaking of the ball,” you started, “Did Fred ever ask that girl he likes to go with him?”

“He asked Angelina a few days ago,” George told you. You wrinkled up your face in confusion. “What? They’re going as friends.”

“But what about that Hufflepuff girl that he talks about constantly?” you asked. “I expected him to ask her, and I thought Lee and Angelina would go together.”

“Lee’s going with a Ravenclaw fifth year, actually,” he informed you. “One of Cho Chang’s friends. Cedric actually set them up.” He seemed to have a hard time admitting that Cedric could do something nice for someone. George and Fred really held a grudge when it came to quidditch.

“Cedric’s a good person, you know?” you said. “He wanted to have that rematch. But back to Fred; why is he being an idiot about his crush?”

“Because he is an idiot in general,” George said laughing. “He asked Angie just to prove to Ron that he had a date. He didn’t think it through.”

You let out a sigh. “He’ll never learn.”

The next song started with a familiar tune. “George, I think you’ll love this one!”

You pulled away from him and grabbed his hand. There was no rhythm to your dancing, but it was fun nonetheless. George left all his worries behind and danced with you, not caring that you two definitely looked like idiots. He did really like the song that was playing, and he enjoyed it even more knowing that you loved it.

You turned your camcorder off after that song, saving room on the tape for the next night too. You walked with George to the balcony, braving the cold to look over the snow covered grounds. Hogwarts really did look beautiful at this time of night. The moon reflected off the white snow and shone brightly over the Black Lake. The ship and the carriage looked like mere children’s toys from this far away.

You rested your head against George’s shoulder as you both leaned against the railing. “Thank you, George.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For being my best friend, I guess,” you said. “It means a lot to me to have someone like you in my life.”

“I’m glad I have you too,” He kissed the top of your head.

You moved your head to kiss him properly, his body heat warming your face as you leaned in. The smell of potions clung to his skin, as he had been working on new products the entire last week. You caught the scent of a rather sweet one, and breathed in deeply. You pulled away reluctantly, but the cold was getting to you and you needed to head inside.

George picked up the camera as you grabbed the radio, turning it off. You walked quietly down the stairs, hoping not to run into anyone at the bottom. He offered to walk you to your dorm, but you knew that Gryffindor tower was a lot closer than the dungeons, so you walked him there.

“Keep the camera for tomorrow,” you told him. “Record whatever mischief you get up to in the morning and then put it in the Great Hall.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He leaned in for one more kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hurried off down the hall as he climbed through the portrait hole. Sneaking down to the dungeons at this hour required a bit of stealth and luck, but you had done it enough to basically know the patrol schedules. You made it to the common room after only one near run in with a teacher, but you ducked behind a statue, just barely avoiding them.

There were a few students left in the common room, so you casually put the radio back in its spot on the table. Hopefully no one had missed it too much.

You made your way to your dorm room, opening the door quietly to not wake your roommates. The last embers of the fire were still burning in the fireplace, and they gave you just enough light to be able to see your way to your bed. The light from the moon didn’t reach this deep into the Black Lake when there was a layer of ice on top of it, so your windows remained pitch black.

You laid in bed, pulling the quilt from last Christmas as close to you as you could. You breathed in the earthy smell and let out a content sigh. Sleep found you easily that night, and your mind raced with dreams of what tomorrow might be like.

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

The buzz and excitement in the air was contagious as everyone got ready before the ball. You had spent the morning in the common room with Adrian, trying to get him to tell you who he was going with, but he refused, saying that you’d find out in a few hours anyway.

“Why won’t you just tell me?” you asked, leaning forward and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Why does it matter so much?” he asked in return, ignoring the look you were giving him.

“Because I want a picture of us and our dates,” you said, “and if I don’t know who your date is, then I can’t force them to take the picture.”

“I promise you’ll get your picture,” he said. “I’m meeting up with him in front--”

You nearly sprang to your feet, but kept yourself in your chair when you saw the look of embarrassment on his face.

“So it’s not the seventh year Ravenclaw girl that has a crush on you,” you said, putting your hands over your mouth to think a bit. “I really thought it was her.”

Adrian looked flustered, his cheeks turning red. “What? No, no, she doesn’t have a crush on me.”

“She does,” you told him bluntly. “She asked me if you had a date about two weeks ago. I told her yes, but seeing as you won’t tell me who, I couldn’t give her more information.”

Adrian sank back into the couch, wishing this conversation would end. You looked at him, still thinking about who he could be going with.

“The Beauxbatons boy who wouldn’t stop staring at you on their first night here?” you pondered, but he remained quiet. “The fifth year Hufflepuff who ran into you in the hall last month? He’s cute and rather shy. I remember him apologizing profusely. I noticed him ducking his head away from you when we’d pass him in the hall after that.”

You watched him for a reaction that would give you a yes or no answer, but all you noticed was his face getting redder. Adrian never really talked about crushes and who he liked. This conversation about people who maybe liked him seemed to be a little much for him.

“Alright, one more guess,” you said, “and then I promise I’ll drop it until tonight.” He looked at you out of the corner of his eye. You took it as a sign to go on. “It’s not one of your dorm mates, is it? They’re rather all kinda assholes.”

You finally got a laugh out of him at that. “Absolutely not. I know them all way too well to ever want to go on a date with any of them.”

“Good, just checking to make sure you were still sane,” you said, standing up. “I’ll see you in a bit. Meet back here before we head up?” Adrian gave a small nod as you headed towards your dorm.

You got ready while the rest of your roommates chatted around you. The dress you had picked out just before the school year started hung from a hanger on your four poster bed. The purple fabric of it was accented nicely by some small gold details. You had added a little bit of magic to it over the past few months, making it more your own, rather than just a second hand find.

You found Adrian a few hours later, sitting in the same spot you had left him; his casual clothes now swapped out for dress robes, and his hair neatly styled.

“You look nice,” you told him, causing him to look up.

“Thanks.” He stood up, scratching the back of his neck. He looked at you, taking in your dress. “You look great. Did you get the sparks to work?”

“Yes!” you said excitedly, looking down at the gold details. “Technically not sparks, but you’ll see. Wait till George can see them too. Can you carry this?”

You handed him your disposable camera, and he quickly put it in his pocket. He held out his arm, and you easily linked yours in it. You headed out of the common room, ready to meet up with your dates.

Walking up the stairs from the dungeons, the first person you saw standing in front of the Great Hall was Ron in his interesting dress robes. He was staring angrily at two people as they walked into the hall. It took a second to realize the girl was Hermione, having never seen her with her hair done like that before. You recognized the boy as Viktor Krum when he turned to greet one of his friends as he walked past them.

Viktor’s friend turned in your direction, and his face lit up with a smile as he saw you and Adrian. You turned to Adrian, who was smiling just as brightly back at the Durmstrang boy.

“A Durmstrang boy?” you whispered to Adrian as you made your way over to him. The boy was tall, at least a few inches taller than Adrian, and his long dark hair hung to his shoulders. When he reached the two of you, he turned his attention to you and took your hand, kissing it softly. His green eyes looked into yours briefly.

“Adrian has talked a lot about you,” the boy said, dropping your hand. He looked back over at Adrian, the softest expression on both of their faces.

“This is Georgi,” Adrian introduced you. You looked at him, trying to hide your expression of slight shock.

This is exactly why he wouldn’t tell you the name of his date. He knew you would tease him about going to the ball with a boy who shared a name so similar to your boyfriend. In all honesty though, the two boys were almost nothing alike. Georgi seemed a little more subdued and quiet, opposed to George who, though quieter than his brother, was still too loud for his own good.

While making polite conversation with Adrian and his date, you were also trying to find the twins in the crowd of people. You noticed them coming down the stairs with Lee and Angelina, Lee soon hurrying off to find his date.

You nudged Adrian in the side and gestured towards the twins. “I’ll be right back.” He nodded at you, and you set off through the crowd.

“George!” you called as you ran up and hugged him. He and Fred were wearing matching outfits, probably passed down from their uncles to them.

“Hello.” George pulled you back from the hug, looking at you fully. “You’re beautiful.”

You ignored his statement, trying to hide the heat rising on your face. “Come on, I want you to meet Adrian’s date.” You looked at Fred and Angelina. “You too. I want a picture.” You pulled George’s hand, leading the group back through the crowd.

“You put the camcorder in the Great Hall, right?” you said over your shoulder.

“Yeah,” George confirmed. “About an hour ago. You’ll just need to hit record.”

Meeting up with Adrian again, you gestured to George, introducing him to the Durmstrang boy. “George, this is Georgi. Georgi, George. My boyfriend.”

They stared at each other for half a second before Fred butted in.

“Well, isn’t that fun,” he said with a grin.

You just grinned at Adrian, a smug look on your face.

You introduced Fred and Angelina and chatted for a bit before pulling another student over, who you knew was muggleborn, to take a picture of the six of you. Adrian nudged you and pointed to your dress. You looked down at it before realizing what he was suggesting.

“Oh,” you said, catching the attention of the group. “I almost forgot. I added a little magic to my dress. Adrian, do you mind doing the honors?”

He pointed his wand at your dress, and a translucent, almost invisible smoke came out of the end. Tendrils of smoke reached out, attaching themselves to the center of each little gold detail and then disappearing into the dress. Each gold detail began to shake, as if filled with an immense energy. Suddenly, the details exploded across the dress, mimicking fireworks to the best of their ability. After a moment, they settled into their original shape.

The group was staring at you, transfixed on what had just happened.

“I’ve never seen a spell like that before,” Georgi finally said, a look of wonder on his face.

“That’s because Adrian and I invented it, just for this,” you told him. You smiled as you looked over at Adrian. “We’ve been working on spells and such all of term in our free time. So far we only got the radio to work, and now this. This one isn’t perfect though. The smoke isn’t supposed to be there; it’s supposed to just be an immediate effect.”

George could tell that you were rambling now. He could see that your ramblings were bringing your excitement over the fantastic job you did down into doubt about how it didn’t work exactly how you wanted it to. He reached out and grabbed your hand.

“It was beautiful,” he said. He looked into your eyes, trying to bring your attention to only him, trying to calm you down. “You know I love fireworks. Maybe they could be a part of the uniform at our shop.”

You smiled at him, giving a small laugh. “That would be wonderful.”

You turned back to the group and noticed Angelina standing by herself, Fred nowhere in sight. “Where’s Fred gone off to?”

“He said he needed to talk to someone,” Angelina said, pointing towards the stairs that led towards the kitchens.

You turned, expecting to find Fred putting a firecracker in someone's robes, but instead found him trying to get the attention of the Hufflepuff girl. She was standing close to another Durmstrang boy, but looked rather uncomfortable at the whole situation. She kept trying to scoot closer to Cedric, but every time she did, the Durmstrang boy would scoot with her. Cedric said something to her before he took Cho by the hand and led her into the Hall. Fred called her name again, but she continued to ignore him, instead saying something to her date before they too walked to the Hall.

“Why didn’t he just ask her?” Angelina asked beside you. “I would’ve been fine going with someone else.”

“Because he’s an idiot,” you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re not wrong,” Angelina agreed.

The entrance hall was getting emptier as everyone filed into the Great Hall. You took this as the cue to follow suit. You stood in the large crowd, pressing play on your camcorder as the school champions were ushered to the dance floor. The dancing started, and George almost immediately pulled you to the dance floor as more people joined in.

The night went by quickly, but you would always be able to watch it back thanks to your camcorder, and look at pictures that you took.

Your favorite picture by far was one of Adrian squished in a hug between the twins, their red hair and gold vests standing out extravagantly against his all black outfit. Adrian and the twins were still not the best of friends, but over the past few months they had all agreed to try to get along for your sake. The twins liked to show their progress through aggressive acts of friendliness.

The videos were another story. They showed the night in motion and sound, something you were eternally thankful for. You could never give enough thanks to your dad for buying the camcorder for you.

The video of the school champions dancing showed Hermione being the happiest you had ever seen her. It was quickly interrupted by you laughing as George pulled you onto the dance floor, followed by Fred grabbing Angelina to dance with him. It even caught a bit of McGonagall dancing with Dumbledore, a surprising sight, as you had thought you would never see either of them dancing in your life.

You caught a video of Percy, zoomed way in on his grumpy face as he watched his ex-girlfriend dancing with someone else. Penelope looked happy with the boy she was dancing with though. You knew in a few years, hopefully, Percy would be able to laugh at his emotions too.

You got Fred and George pulling Percy, Ron, and Harry out of their seats as The Weird Sisters started to play. Ginny joined their group to dance with her brothers; the three excited Weasleys trying their best to dance the grumpiness out of the others. You set the camera down on a table, facing the group and ran to grab Adrian and Georgi. Passing Angelina and Alicia on the way back, you told them to come with you too. Your large group now took up much of the dance floor, but no one seemed to mind as you all jumped around to the song the band was playing.

The next video had the band playing a slower song in the background. The camera just sitting on a table, having been accidentally turned on by someone. It showed the Hufflepuff girl sitting at a table with Percy. They were talking, but the music drowned out any words that they were saying. Percy looked a little happier than he did earlier. Fred came into frame, sitting next to Percy, but putting his whole attention on the girl. She said a few short words to him, but when it was obvious she didn’t want to talk, he got up and walked towards the camera. He must have noticed it was on, because he mumbled a few words at it before the video cut off.

There was a short video of you and Adrian walking outside in front of the castle, lights sparkling around you. George and Fred were a few paces ahead of you, talking about something you couldn’t hear. Georgi had offered to record for a bit, even though he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. The video cut off abruptly when the camera was dropped.

The last video on the camera was George recording you as you were leaving the Hall for the night.

“How was your night,” he asked from behind the camera.

“I had a great night,” you told him, walking backwards. You were holding up your dress so you didn’t trip. “Better than some people.”

The camera panned over to Fred, who flicked it off. He had a smile on his face, though, so you knew he still had a wonderful time. George moved the camera to catch Angelina in frame.

“Did you still have a good time,” he asked her, “even though your date was kinda a drag?”

“I had a wonderful time,” Angelina said as she put her arms around Alicia and Katie, who were walking beside her. “I still had my best friends to lift the mood.”

“And what about you,” George turned so now he was walking backwards, camera pointed at Adrian and Georgi. They were walking hand in hand, Adrian’s head resting on Georgi’s shoulder.

“It was alright,” Adrian said, smiling up at his date. Georgi squeezed Adrian’s hand.

You had now reached the base of the stairs that led up to the Gryffindor common room. Everyone stopped walking to say their goodbyes.

“One more thing,” you said to the camera. “I wanna get my spell on record.” You grabbed out your wand and pointed it at your dress, setting the fireworks in motion.

“Beautiful, as always,” George hummed behind the camera. “I think this is where we part ways.” He took your hand in his. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight.”

The video stopped as you leaned in to kiss him.

#george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x slytherin!reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #slytherin #slytherin reader #weasley twins #fred and george #fred and george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #through the years series #my writing

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goldenkamuyhunting · 4 years ago

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Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 277 “Operation ‘Protect Yuusaku’s Virginity’”

Sorry, I’m obviously late with the ramblings but the scanlations were out late and, due to work, I didn’t have any free time once they were out. Anyway here’s there are the new ramblings and...

...yeah Kaeko’s attempt at stealing Sugimoto’s virginity gets a special place in the GK horror scenes... but let’s got with order.

We start with Tsurumi sitting on a chair in the Imperial Japanese Army 1st division Headquarters pretending he had no idea the Ainu gold ever existed in front of Lieutenant General Okuda Hidenobu, Commander of the 1st division. The latter wants Tsurumi to find the gold for the Central Government as Tsurumi’s information-gathering ability is highly regarded.

Just this should make Okuda realize Tsurumi is lying when he pretends not to know about the Ainu gold but whatever, Okuda is clearly not the sharpest pencil in the box.

Anyway Tsurumi asks Okuda if this means he should report to him instead than to his superiors. Okuda waves off his concerns saying Hanasawa is in his debt so of course he wouldn’t mind if Tsurumi were to report to an officer that’s not him… especially if he never discovers about it because I honestly doubt Okuda is planning to warn Hanazawa about this.

Whatever.

Okuda, who evidently has no idea that everything he’ll say to Tsurumi will be used against him and for Tsurumi’s advantage, better explains him the whole entity of the problem.

We learn that inside the Army people from Satsuma domain and people from Choushuu domain, are held in high esteem and considered the only true military men, likely due to them being the winners in the Boshin war and Meiji restoration. However, despite their past alliance, they basically can’t stand to each other and are always struggling one against the other.

Hanazawa is from Satsuma so, of course, he doesn’t want a scandal to befall to his family for fear of consequences from people from Choushuu.

He asked Okuda’s help because Okuda is from the Kokura domain and so he looked like an impartial and safe choice, proving Hanazawa’s understanding of men is quite terrible because Okuda fully plans to take advantage of what he knows about Hanazawa and, as we’ll learn later from Tsurumi, he’s likely on the Choushuu side. Really, Hanazawa can’t even pick up his allies. -_-

Okuda is no better.

He knows Tsurumi is from Niigata, from a highly-esteemed family of former samurai from the Echigo-Nagaoka Domain which had an awful time during the battle of Hokuetsu (one of the last battles of the Boshin war) against the imperial forces composed mostly by people of Satsuma and Choushuu so he thinks Tsurumi would be willing to help to put an end to the control those factions have over the army because he should have a grudge against them.

We see that Tsurumi’s face darkens, which might mean that yes, Tsurumi has no sympathy for them, but Tsurumi is the sort of man who doesn’t merely follow his feelings, but remains calm and plans the doom of his adversaries quietly. The Akō vendetta probably felt like an amateur work to Tsurumi.

In fact, instead than asking more about the Ainu gold he’s supposed to find, Tsurumi asks more about the scandal in which Hanazawa is involved, planning to use it as ammunition in his own personal plans.

Then, as he leaves the place with his men, he shows his true colours.

He didn’t buy at all Okuda’s words that he’s “impartial” believing he’s actually on Choushuu side and afraid if Hanazawa were to get the gold, it would strengthen the Satsuma position. Tsurumi, who’s much more intelligent than Okuda or Hanazawa, finds all this a pathetic face, admitting he’s sick of Central.

He also confesses that yes, he knew about the Ainu gold already from his time in Russia (it’s unsure if from his time in Russia as Hasegawa or from his time in Russia with Tsukishima), and that Okuda’s words merely corroborated the info Tsurumi had about it… which is interesting because it confirms Okuda learnt about the Ainu gold from a source that’s not Tsurumi.

Then Tsurumi informs his men they’ll pay a visit to Yuusaku and Kikuta because evidently Okuda had told him also who he had tasked with protecting Yuusaku’s virginity.

Meanwhile Kikuta informs Sugimoto Kaeko wants to meet Yuusaku again at the Imperial Hodel.

Sugimoto worries about what will happen should Kaeko find out he’s a fake.

Kikuta thinks he’s worrying for himself and tells him he’ll just have to return the uniform and go on his way… although as he says so we don’t see Kikuta’s face.

Sugimoto is actually worried about Kaeko as if she were to figure out, this would mean she would know something dirty about the Army (read= Hanazawa).

Kikuta gives him a sideway look, his face slightly shadowed as he tells him he has a plan B Sugimoto doesn’t need to know.

It’s interesting how Kikuta never asked Sugimoto his name. Of course the Doylistic explanation is that so he won’t recognize him when he’ll heard his surname from Tsurumi during the gold hunt but I wonder if the Watsonian explanation is this was to protect Sugimoto. Sugimoto too by now know things he would be better not knowing. If they were to tell Kikuta to kill him he could let him escape and then cover up for him by saying he didn’t even know his name so he can’t track him. Alternatively it can be to protect himself, as he might be trying not to get too close to Sugimoto.

Meanwhile at the Army Academy Mrs. Suzuki accidentally asking Yuusaku if Kikuta had relied to him the message, informs him that today was the day in which ‘the matter at the imperial hotel’ (帝国ホテルの件 Teikoku hotel no kudan) was scheduled. To make matter worse a man immediately scolds her as she wasn’t supposed to talk with Yuusaku about it. In the end they’ve to confess that they were told to pass all the letters and telegrams for Yuusaku to Kikuta which prompts Yuusaku to decide to go ask him directly.

A moment later Tsurumi drops at the place and he’s told that Yuusaku just left and the same guy who has scolded Mrs. Suzuki for informing Yuusaku about the meeting has no problems telling Tsuurmi about were Yuusaku went.

So we jump at the Imperial Hotel where Sugimoto expects to have another luxurious dinner with Kaeko and, instead Kaeko’s maid drops the beef stew all over him.

Using as excuse that Yuusaku has to absolutely change himself Kaeko pushes Sugimoto upstairs, claiming she booked a room there. As they walk they’re spotted by Tsukishima who informs Tsurumi while a worried Kikuta follows the action with his binoculars.

Once in the room a panting Kaeko urges ‘Yuusaku’ to rip off his clothes and strip naked in the bathroom.

While a naïve Sugimoto worries about how pretty the room is, Kaeko drags him in the bathroom and tells him to wash up.

Sugimoto finds a little odd how the bathtub is already filled but strips naked anyway.

Meanwhile big bad wolf Kaeko, with an expression that would make Jack Nicholson in “The Shining” proud, tries to get into the room. To Sugimoto’s credit he doesn’t scream like a banshee as Wendy Torrance did but tries to close her out of the bathroom.

Kaeko asks him to not bring her shame as a woman. Sugimoto weakly defends his own virginity by claiming she doesn’t know him well. Kaeko claims she doesn’t mind as he looks handsome and steals his clothes from under the door before threatening to let ‘Yuusaku’s’ situation be known to other people if he were to refuse her.

Sugimoto worries as he knows he has been called in as a stand in to avoid this kind of situation.

Meanwhile outside Tsurumi asks to Kaeko’s maid, Hamako, if she has seen a candidate officer. She denies it as she’s clearly there to stop everyone from interrupting but Tsurumi hears Kaeko calling Yuusaku.

Tsurumi says out loud to his men that Kikuta was ordered to break off the engagement so he doesn’t understand why Yuusaku and Kaeko are in a room by themselves.

I wonder if Tsurumi came there because he was hoping to be the one to save Yuusaku’s virginity so as to put Hanazawa in debt… or if he’s saying this out loud so as to let the maid know about Kikuta’s involvement. We’ll see.

Usami instead tells Ogata this will be the first time he’ll get to meet his little brother, a man worthy of waving the regimental flag.

Usami again calls Ogata just Hyakunosuke, as if the two of them were friends… or if he just were looking down on him taking confidence when he shouldn’t, as Ogata in past chapters always called Usami by surname.

Whatever, this means that Usami, and by default Tsukishima and Tsurumi, are informed of Ogata’s parentage. Does the whole 7th know? Maybe. If that’s the case I wonder who told them.

Back to Sugimoto he asks Kaeko if this is all because Yuusaku’s mother wants to keep him away from the army. Kaeko explains Yuusaku’s mother worked as a nurse at a special military hospital in Hiroshima during the Sino-Japanese war. This experience pushed her to decide her son shouldn’t take part to the war. Kaeko adds Yuusaku should show consideration for his mother’s feelings.

Sugimoto says this is something Yuusaku should decide by himself as it’s his own life, basically betraying the fact he’s not Yuusaku. Kaeko is confused while Sugimoto tells her to ask Yuusaku which he wants to chose before signalling to Kikuta there are problems.

In that same moment Tsurumi and his men barges in the room claiming they’re there to protect Yuusaklu’s virginity.

I wonder if Tsurumi is practising for when he’ll have to ‘rescue’ Koito.

As for Kaeko, she thinks Tsurumi is working for Hanazawa and tells him if he doesn’t get out she’ll tattle everything to the Army. At this Tsurumi threatens to kill her and Sugimoto, thinking killing Kaeko is Kikuta’s ‘plan B’, decides to barge out completely naked, threatening to kill them all.

Ogata, who has no idea the naked man with murdering intentions is not Yuusaku, grins, likely thinking ‘Yuusaku’ is rather far from pure.

Likely he believes Yuusaku’s state means he was about to sleep with Kaeko, and Sugimoto’s statement about murdering people might have caused Ogata to think the ‘oh so perfect’ Yuusaku, is actually not perfect at all.

I feel bad for him because, when he’ll discover Yuusaku isn’t the guy in front of him, he’ll be in for a disappointment.

Anyway this chapter ends here.

This chapter gives us some interesting info about the Army, Tsurumi and how Ogata’s status of bastard son was known to Tsurumi’s inner circle and, possibly, to the rest of the 7th. It fleshes more the Hanazawa family, although I’ve to say I noticed when Noda has to talk about Hanazawa or his wife he recycles always the same image.

Well, I guess that’s all. Sorry if it’s late and kind of jumbled but the whole timing and work didn’t help me at all.

#Golden Kamuy #Tsurumi Tokushirou #Okuda Hidenobu #Ogata Hyakunosuke #Usami Tokishige #Tsukishima Hajime #Golden Kamuy Ramblings and Theories #Hanazawa Yuusaku #Hanazawa Koujirou #Hanazawa Hiro #Kikuta Mokutarou #Sugimoto Saichi #Suzuki #Kaneko Kaeko #Yamamura Hamako

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian - ch. 2

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Chapters: 2/2

Read chapter one on Tumblr.

Chapter two summary: Sam and Bucky talk after their date op in Germany.

“Four,” Bucky says.

Sam, plodding down the road beside him, turns to stare. His sidekick (and fuck him if Bucky’s thinking of Sam in the same terms) has his chin lifted, moving his gaze back and forth across the horizon in a slow sweep. With the lines of trees planted as windbreaks around the fields, they can’t see the highway from here. It could be nice, without the rushing noise of cars and trucks, if Bucky knew how to shut up. That sorta pout his mouth does when his face is in its sour resting position—that’s what Sam wants to see. Only because it means Bucky wouldn’t be talking and Sam could maybe find a few minutes of peace, some quiet in which to consider the Flag-Smashers they just fought.

“Four what?” he demands when Bucky doesn’t continue.

Can’t be hostiles. If Bucky had spotted anybody, he wouldn’t still be striding along, looking unconcerned. No, he’d be running flat-out towards their adversaries like the rash moron he’s always accusing Steve of having been. Trying to leave Sam in the dust until Sam kicked off and spread his wings.

“Four stars,” Bucky says, carefully, clearly, like that clears anything up.

“What are you doing? Rating our trip down the highway? That was a transport truck full of medicine and super-soldiers, not an Uber.”

Sam’s grinning to himself when Bucky turns his head to glare. Ah. So gratifying. Amends sound good in theory, but Bucky’s irritation is so much simpler in practice. Sam knows how to handle that. He’ll take the grouchy stewing post-mission over having to meet Bucky’s eyes across a table, the promised snapper dinner laid out in front of them. They haven’t gotten around to that yet.

“I’m not rating the ride,” Bucky says, “I’m rating our date.”

That trips Sam up, but just for a second.

“No, no, no, dates don’t end with me rescuing you from the underside of a truck.”

“You didn’t rescue me.”

“Man, those wheels would’ve turned you into ground beef,” Sam says with a snort.

“I doubt it. Fell two hundred feet without a parachute today and I’m fine.”

“You want a second opinion on that?”

Instead of watching Bucky’s scowl deepen at the joke, Sam sees his expression flatten out. It makes Sam narrow his eyes in suspicion.

“What?” he prompts.

“You’re wrong,” Bucky states plainly.

“About what those wheels would do to you? We can test it when we’re back stateside if you want. I’ll requisition a truck.”

“Not about that.”

Sam’s looking closely, so he spots the smile. A curl at the corner of Bucky’s mouth. He hopes, secretly, that Bucky is scanning the surroundings well enough for both of them, because Sam’s attention is homed in on this little sign of Bucky’s amusement.

“About the end of the date,” Bucky finally clarifies.

“Mission. The end of the mission, when I rescued you.”

“The end of the date, when I was on top of you.”

Something to throw with all his strength, that’s what Sam needs right now. Some physical outlet for how badly he wants to fling the creeping, seeking, aching things he’s feeling very far away from himself. He wonders if Steve ever just whipped the shield as hard as he could to vent his frustrations. It’s hot as hell out here under the sun and Sam can feel the dampness of his chest inside his suit, the sweat riding his spine.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, fine with the scent of manure and getting nothing but grass instead. Like inhaling the colour green. Smells like the field they landed in. Landed in and went barreling across until, yeah, Sam wound up on his back with Bucky above him, their arms fastened around each other like life preservers or umbilical cords or anything else tight and necessary for keeping people alive. Goddamn nose-to-nose. Over the phone, Sam could brush Bucky off. When he says this shit in person, Sam has nowhere to go, besides extending the wings and launching himself into the sky. But he doesn’t want to overreact (doesn’t want Bucky to see him overreact).

“You just calling it a date because you don’t have rules for those?” Sam asks, deflecting.

“My three rules, you mean?” Bucky asks. He loses the smile.

“Right.”

“They’re for… everything. Supposed to be a blanket rollout, not doing anything illegal or that’ll hurt anybody in any aspect of my life. I’m sure the rules go for dating too, though Dr. Raynor and I didn’t really talk about those specific circumstances.”

“I think you might’ve mostly stuck to those rules today. I don’t think we hurt those guys.”

“Maybe you didn’t—”

“Get over yourself.”

“You’re a rude date,” Bucky notes. He’s looking straight ahead. No, not looking, staring. Like he does.

“I didn’t even invite you,” Sam says, refusing to correct this bonehead again about what kind of outing this was. “You walked onto that plane.”

“You wanted me to come.”

“Didn’t need you.”

“Oh really?” Bucky challenges. Sam clenches his jaw as he avoids meeting Bucky’s gaze.

“Hey, I was still in the air while you were clinging to that truck like a toddler to their dad’s leg.”

“You were in the air, but for how long?” Bucky asks, halting and grabbing Sam’s arm. Sam shakes him off in annoyance but stops too. “Until the Flag-Smashers knocked you out or broke your wings like they broke Redwing. They were mopping the floor with you.”

“And it was so damn useful to have you there to be the other mop,” Sam says sarcastically.

“If you’d put me back on the truck instead of in the field, we mighta had a shot at them.”

Bucky’s hands go to his hips, his Vibranium arm gleaming in the sun. He’s going to have to say more about that White Wolf thing. Wondering where the hell Bucky’s sleeve went and refusing to ask, Sam crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“We had no shot. Not today, not without more information.”

“Information takes too long.”

“That’s what a successful op is,” Sam stresses, chopping the side of one hand into his opposite palm. “Intelligence gathering, corroboration, planning, execution. Information is what tells you to hang back instead of throwing yourself into a fight you’re not prepared enough to win.”

“We were already here. We couldn’t just let them leave.”

“Don’t worry about the hypotheticals now; them leaving is exactly what happened.”

“Unless Captain America has ’em on the ropes,” Bucky says deadpan.

“I hope they pushed him off the back of one of those trucks.”

“Were you thinking about that while we were up there with him?”

“At the time, I was thinking about pushing you off the back of the truck for getting us into that situation,” Sam explains, “that’s why I can picture it so clearly. See, Buck? I always have a plan.”

“Just like Steve.”

“No, not just like Steve.”

Sam pushes past Bucky to start walking again. After a couple steps, Bucky’s back at his side.

“You think the new guy had a plan?” he asks. “I don’t.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Sure you do.”

“Are you trying to get me to talk now? Mr. ‘I’m not a words guy’? Fine,” Sam huffs, tired from everything inside him that’s pushing to get out rather than their leisurely walk down a country road. Even so, he walks faster, almost stomping, and Bucky has to lope up next to him to stay in step. “I don’t think he had a plan. I don’t think he could fasten that dumb helmet on his head without a direct order. I don’t think he and his partner found us on their own initiative.”

“They work pretty smoothly as a team though,” Bucky tosses out.

“That looked like familiarity, not the result of inspiring leadership on the part of the Captain.”

“And not as good as us.”

Sam sends Bucky poisonous side-eye.

“I’m not trying to lead you.”

“I don’t wanna be led,” Bucky replies. “We fight together better than they do and that’s with you pretending you hate me.”

“Oh, I don’t need to pretend.” The comment is habit.

“All I’m saying is that it’s better. The two of us being out here doing this stuff together.”

“Especially with that dick waiting in the wings.”

Bucky stares at him long enough that Sam turns his head to stare back. When he does, Bucky glances away, but Sam knows where he was looking—at his back, where his wings are folded away.

“Waiting in the wings is a figure of speech,” he tells Bucky angrily.

“It’s perfect though. I always think of you as that dick in the wings.”

Sam exhales hard through his nose.

“I hope you don’t always think of me as anything.”

“I do. I always think of you.”

Freefall doesn’t jar Sam, no more than what he can remember it feeling like when he was a little kid and his dad would toss him into the air before catching him again. But what Bucky says changes the physics of his insides, the gravity all wrong with his organs. Heart plummeting then trying to sail straight up his throat like a balloon somebody just let go of.

Then Bucky adds, “You and that shield.”

“Drop it.”

He could just fly to the airport, leave Bucky here with plenty of time to think his stupid, shield-related thoughts. Maybe this smartass would have all the answers by the time he reached the plane, or Munich, if they went wheels-up without him. The truth is that the shield—and the Captain America persona—are on Sam’s mind just as much as they’re on Bucky’s, only he manages to keep those thoughts locked up tight. He has to make sure that shit’s contained, particularly if the new poster boy’s going to turn up like this. Sam doesn’t need that in his face.

As they walk, he glances at Bucky, who’s probably as aware of it as Sam is when Bucky gives him that stare. Blue as the sky overhead and heavy as a boulder. The realization that, although he didn’t mean to lead, Bucky followed him here, and continues to stick with him, is staggering. The pages of his mental photo album flip and he sees Steve crack a grin. It’s not like that, Sam tells that blond do-gooder, young in his memories. The only blond do-gooder who ever has or ever will look right with his arm threaded through the straps of the shield.

Maybe, maybe, this thing could work. Him and Bucky running ops, doing better at not getting their asses kicked in front of the government’s hand-picked hero. But Bucky’s gotta let that shit go. Since the Blip, Sam’s been trying to fly under the radar and that’s what he wants to continue doing. He doesn’t need to be showy, just effective; he doesn’t want to get dragged into some Cap vs. Cap contest, the inheritor against the upstart. If Bucky would take the time to think and listen, they could figure this out and be good. And do good. Understanding each other the way Sam wanted when he called Bucky up and they talked about Tunisia and rules and fish dinners. Bucky could make his jokes and, the next time, Sam could call his bluff. Show that gruff, rusty motherfucker what a real date looks like. What kind of team could they be? All kinds.

“Are we even going the right way?” Bucky asks after a half-hour of silence.

“Yes,” Sam says firmly.

He actually hasn’t checked. After they untangled themselves in that field, he just started walking, too keyed up to establish their position. He wonders if the grass still shows their path, crushed where they rolled to a stop.

“You sure?”

“Uh huh.”

“Got any thoughts you wanna share?” Bucky asks. Sam frowns and steals a glance at him. “What? I told you I’ve been going to therapy. I know the importance of a healthy dialogue.”

Sam tries to force his mouth to keep curving down, but he really wants to smile. Bucky’s not the worst company and he is obviously capable of growth.

“A question,” he says.

“If it’s sarcastic, I’m not—”

“Four outta what?”

“What?”

“You said four stars,” Sam reminds him. “Is that four outta five or four outta ten?”

Bucky’s smile spreads slowly, smugly, and Sam rolls his eyes hard. He’s no more aggravated by Bucky than he is by his own need to know. ‘Four stars’ was an incomplete assessment! Typical.

“I hate you,” he says.

Still smiling away, Bucky sways into Sam as he walks, their arms brushing. Could be an accident.

But probably not.

#my writing #story update #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

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mrsbeef · 5 months ago

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Okay hear me out

Jotena

#revolutionary girl utena #rgu utena #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #jotaro kujo #utena tenjou #fanart #i couldn't not #it's just too much drip #mrs beef puts colours on things

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chibsytelford · 4 years ago

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Battle of the Alphas - Angel x Miguel x Reader NSFW

*** GIF CREDIT TO CREATORS ***

Authors note - Okay me and @rebel-without-cause-x decided to write another threesome fic following on from our Chibs x Jax x Reader one. The idea literally came from nowhere and like 2 hours later we had finished it. We both really love this and hope you all do too!

We are both posting it so it’s easier to just whack it onto our masterlists so sorry if some of you get 2 notifications as I know we have a similar taglist. This was also my first ever time writing smut and I must say I’m really proud of myself. Loved writing this with you @rebel-without-cause-x

Word Count - 3945

Warnings - swearing and smut. that is all.

Taglist - @agirllovespasta @everyhowlmarksthedead @whyisgmora @starrynite7114 @jadesamhart @fangirlingaesthetics @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @sheeshgivemeabreak @elcococruz @lady-pswrld @talicat713 @angelxshiba @xx--day-dreamer--xx @thisishowdynastiesareborn @trulysuccubus @scuzmunkie @sadeyesgf

The only sound that could be heard in the coffee shop was the stupid clock ticking, you were so bored as you sat on your stool with your feet up on the counter scrolling through your phone. It was the same every single Wednesday at 11am. Dead.

You were in your own little world as you scrolled through your social media whilst sipping on your iced coffee, you didn’t even hear the bell ring, signalling someone had entered the shop.

“Not very hygienic querida” the voice of Angel Reyes boomed through the shop.

“Unless I’m going crazy I don’t see anyone in here” you shrugged placing your phone on the counter but not moving.

“Hello I’m stood right here you goof” he grinned waving like a kid

“Right what can I get you” you sassed rolling your eyes.

“Don’t sass me”

“Or what?” You smirked, biting down on your bottom lip, leaving him all flustered.

One thing you enjoyed in life was leaving two men in particular flustered by your actions.

“Wrong time, wrong place” he mumbled rubbing the back of his neck.

It was a rare sight for Angel Reyes to be shy and quiet, but you would be lying if you said it didn't turn you on just a little bit.

"Can you say that a bit louder?" You were determined to get him to repeat what he had mumbled.

He stepped forward never taking his eyes of yours. He knew what game you were playing and he wasn't going to let you win.

He was now standing in front of you behind the counter and just as he reached out to place his hand on your leg the bell on the door went signalling you had another customer.

Looking over you saw it was none other than Miguel Galindo. Now things were going to get very interesting, albeit a bit awkward too.

You lightly shoved Angel back and smiled at the man in the suit who was looking at you both with a hint of jealousy and anger in his eyes.

"What can I get you?" You knew Miguel's order as he came in everyday but the awkward silence was unbearable so you needed to say something.

“Angel" he nodded at the man who was now at the right side of the counter standing inches away from Miguel.

“Urm no sorry” Angel spat venom laced in his voice “I was here first”

Rolling your eyes at the two men you dropped your feet off the counter grabbing two takeaway cups and simultaneously made both of their coffees at once, leaving both men standing in awe.

“I do have two hands you know” you said in a totally innocent way but as you spun round both of them had their eyebrows raised.

However neither of them had a comeback.

It was now Thursday and the shop was stupidly busy, seen as the colleges had started back this morning and you were a staff member down because of the flu so stressed was an understatement.

As if on queue both Angel and Miguel walked in at the same time.

Turning your back you looked up at the ceiling raising your palms up.

“Really testing me today big man” you muttered rolling your eyes, you weren’t religious but right now you were praying neither of them started shit especially when you didn’t have time to deal with it.

“Morning mi dulce” Miguel said, flashing his smile as he leaned against the counter.

You turned around giving Miguel a smile. "Morning, the usual?" As you asked him you gave him a quick look up and down noticing his hair was more neater than usual and he had a different colour of suit on. Secretly you wished he did it for you but you knew the chances were very slim.

"Please" he replied rolling his eyes and clenching his jaw as Angel now stood right beside him.

"Again Reyes? Really?" You noticed the harsh tone that Miguel used when speaking to Angel and you wondered what was going on with the two of them. It was a small town and you knew that the pair were in business together so you figured they'd be friendly or at least civil.

"I'll take my usual too mi amor" Angel winked at you.

"Coming right up gentlemen, also can you move over to the side so I can take the next customer's order please?" You kindly asked them.

The next customer was a good looking middle aged man. He was a different type of handsome compared to Angel and Miguel but he was still attractive nonetheless.

"What can I get you sir?" You asked him.

"A toffee latte and your number please" he replied flashing you a smile.

Before you could answer you saw both Angel and Miguel move towards the man at the same time from the corner of your eye. You needed to diffuse the situation and fast before there was a fight.

You quickly hopped the counter before the two men reached the customer. You grabbed Angel by his kutte and Miguel by his shirt and led them both outside the coffee shop, but not before gesturing to your only other colleague that you'd be back in a second.

“Seriously today of all days you both decide to act like fucking top dog” you spat running your tongue over your teeth as you shoved them against the wall. “I have had it up to here with you two pendejos”

They were both shocked at your outburst.

“For the last 6 months it’s always the same when you both come into the shop” you glared “always at each other’s throats, I don’t care what is happening with your little business partnership but you sure as hell don’t bring that into my grandpa’s shop”

Both of them looked guilty.

“Sorry” Angel mumbled.

“Yeah I didn’t realise this was affecting you querida, so I’m sorry,” Miguel nodded.

“So with that being said neither one of you can step foot in this shop until you sort your shit out” you scowled crossing your arms across your chest. “Now if you don’t mind I’ve got a shop to fucking run”

Leaving both of them standing there you stormed back inside. Linda shot you a worried look.

“Don’t worry about it Lin, just the two biggest pains in my ass but I’ve sorted it” you nodded as you pulled your hair into a messy bun getting back to work.

The next couple of days had passed and it was boring without Angel or Miguel coming in to flirt with you, however they had both been blowing up your phone non stop. Texting them both telling them to meet at your house at 8pm. You were going to end this shit today and it was happening tonight.

If they couldn't come into the coffee shop without being civil to each other then they both deserved what was coming. You were going to act as a mediator and you weren't letting them leave your house until they sorted their shit out.

Miguel arrived first being punctual as always. You opened your door before he could knock and you waved to Nestor as he drove off.

You were nervous having a man like Miguel Galindo in your home and you couldn't believe you hadn't invited him before. But there was no good enough reason before whereas now there is a perfect one.

"Come in, make yourself comfortable" you gestured for Miguel to enter and he did so whilst buttoning his suit jacket. You had made coffee and had put it on the living room table. Miguel noticed there were 3 cups instead of 2 but he didn't say anything, instead plopping himself down on your sofa.

"Why did you ask me over querida? Not that I'm complaining" Miguel poured himself a cup of coffee and poured you one out too.

A knock on your door saved you from answering his question and you told him you'd be back in a second. Opening the door Angel Reyes was standing there wearing his red and black checkered shirt with some jeans. He looked delicious and you momentarily forgot why he was here.

"Who is it?" Miguel's voice pulled you back to reality and you saw Angel clench his fists.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Angel questioned you.

“Please just come in, for me?" You gave Angel puppy dog eyes and were not surprised when they worked.

You both entered the living room and the tension could be cut with a knife.

"For fucks sake" Miguel muttered as he held the bridge of his nose. "You have got to be kidding me".

“Nope” you said, popping the p as you sat on the other sofa, grabbing the pillow as you sat crossed legged, trying to protect your dignity, in that moment you felt severely under dressed in your over-sized baggy Guns N Roses shirt and a pair of bright blue fluffy socks.

“Right” you said taking a deep breath “this ends tonight, whatever beef you two have got going on you will sit and talk about it like grown adults and neither one of you will leave until it’s done. And if either of you raise your voice even a little bit I will fucking punch you”

“Are you being like 100 percent serious right now?” Angel asked, staring into your eyes.

“Deadly” you said no emotion in your voice “now talk, clear the air and if you manage to do that I will make it worth both of your time”

"Fine you want us to clear the air then I'll start" Miguel sat forward and cracked his knuckles and turned his body to face Angel who was sitting on the sofa to the right of him. "If it's not your father fucking with my life it's your brother, and if it's not your brother it's you" Miguel pointed at Angel.

“Me? And what did I do Mr Mighty Miguel Galindo?" You glared at Angel who held his hands up in defeat. "Sorry, what did I do Miguel?"

"I saw her first" he told the Mayan. "You know I saw her first and still you continued to go in and flirt with her"

"I'm not a fucking mind reader" Angel laughed. "I didn't know you saw her first, but to be honest if I did know it wouldn't have stopped me anyway" he shrugged.

You were gobsmacked. The men didn't fall out over business. They fell out over a female.

“So hold on a second” you said running your hand over your face. “None of this was over business and it was over me the whole damn time”

“Yeah” they both shrugged as you took in the information.

“I mean who wouldn’t want a goddess like you on their arm” Angel smirked.

His words did something, your skin suddenly felt hot, like you were on fire. Shifting in your seat as both men stared at you.

“Now that is something I can agree on” Miguel smiled leaning forward resting his arms on his knees “so mi dulce, now the truth has been laid out on the table, who do you choose? Me or him?”

It’s like you forgot how to speak as the words got lodged in the back of your throat, you couldn’t really tell them you wanted both of them, could you?

Just the thought alone made your skin tingle and a familiar heat between your legs. Every time you tried to speak the words wouldn’t fall off your tongue.

“Urm..I...er” you stuttered.

"I need some water" you managed to choke out before you abruptly stood up from where you sat and practically ran to your kitchen. You heard the chuckles of the two men and you knew you were in trouble.

Downing a glass of water you felt a bit cooler but you were not ready to face them yet. You didn't need to be because they both entered your kitchen with their arms folded looking at you expectantly.

"I don't have all night princesa" Miguel practically purred at you. He knew what he was doing and it was working. The effect the two men had on you was ridiculous and you didn't know how much longer you could last.

Taking a deep breath you decided you would just be honest and tell them you wanted them both. You figured one of them would back down and give up but little did you know they had other plans.

"To answer your question from earlier" you said "the choice is impossible and I've always been a greedy person, so I want you both". You didn't know where the sudden confidence came from but the truth was out now and there was nothing you could do about it.

Angel was the first to make a move, literally taking two large strides until your back was pressed against the worktop.

“I think we can work something out" Angel said, his tone husky as his fingers played with the hem of your shirt grazing against your soft skin.

“And you did say if we worked things out that you would make it worth our time” Miguel smirked running his tongue across his bottom lip. “I mean you invite us round to sort this mess out and all your wearing is that shirt, that tattoo peaking out, you knew what you were doing princesa”

Both men stood in front of you, grinning down with lustful looks in their eyes. They hadn’t even touched you yet and you were aching at the thought of both of them having their way with you, and there was that familiar feeling between your legs.

“Well what are you waiting for” you giggled biting your bottom lip earning what you swore were growls from both of them.

Miguel took your shirt off in one go and you cursed yourself for not wearing a bra and pants. They hadn't even properly touched you yet and your nipples were already hard begging to be sucked.

As if he read your mind Angel took one nipple between his fingers and one in his mouth and sucked and rolled them gently. The feeling was magical and you could barely stand up.

You pulled Miguel down to your face and smashed your lips against his, immediately putting your tongue in his mouth. You moaned into his mouth when he brought his hand up to your neck and wrapped his fingers gently around your throat.

You managed to pull away from Miguel long enough to take his suit jacket off followed by his shirt leaving him in only his suit trousers. He was a sight for sore eyes.

Reaching out you dragged a finger from his chest all the way down to the waistband of his trousers. You could tell he was hard just by looking at the solid shape in his pants. Not wanting to leave Angel out and wanting to touch him aswell you pulled his head away from your chest and discarded his shirt leaving him in nothing but his jeans.

You couldn’t believe your luck, as you looked up at the men through your lashes, you literally had two of the most alpha males waiting to pleasure you and you wanted to tease them a bit more before you let them have their way with you.

Jumping up so you were now sat on the work top, legs spread giving them a clear view of the prize they so desperately wanted. Running your hands down your body you squeezed your boobs.

“Right enough play time princesa” Miguel growled as he threw you over his shoulder carrying you back to the living room. He wasted no time dropping you on the sofa.

“Final chance to back out sweetheart” Angel said as he ran his fingers down your cheek “you sure this is what you want?”

Biting your lip as you nodded sending them a pleading look, you were so turned on right now it hurt, squeezing your thighs together to try and release some pressure. Then Miguel pulled your legs apart, running his fingers across your core making you whimper at the sensation.

The sound of a belt buckle dropping on the floor made you open your eyes to see Angel stood there now completely naked, your mouth watering at the sight of his thick cock.

You waggled your forefinger at him gesturing for him to come closer. You were desperate to have his cock in your mouth and you didn't want to waste another second.

Angel smirked at you shaking his head but nevertheless he obliged and he stood in front of you. You immediately took his dick in your hands pumping it a few times before opening your mouth and putting it in. He was big but you managed to get him all the way to the back of your throat even if you did choke on it a few times.

He closed his eyes and grabbed a fistful of your hair encouraging you to keep going faster and deeper and you did.

Whilst sucking Angels cock Miguel had planted his mouth on your clit and was now rolling his tongue across it causing you to moan on Angels dick. The vibration from your moan caused his dick to twitch in your mouth and you looked up at him and gave him a wink.

Miguel was a pro when it came to eating you out. He used his tongue perfectly and within seconds you had your first orgasm of the night.

Your screams were muffled with Angel still fucking your mouth, tears were streaming down your cheeks as well as saliva running down your chin.

This was better than you had ever dreamed of and you knew by the end of it you would be completely spent.

Suddenly Angel pulled out making you whimper.

“Unless you want me to cum right now it’s for the best” he winked before nodding at Miguel, silently telling him it was his turn.

Within seconds you now had Miguel’s dick in your mouth, using your hand to play with his balls whilst Angel slipped two fingers into your entrance, moaning at the feeling of being stretched out as he soon reached his knuckles, curling his fingers perfectly, hitting your g spot. You were still sensitive from your first orgasm and were honestly so close to another.

Your breathing became erratic as both men continued with no signs of stopping.

“That's it princesa” Miguel grunted “god you look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock, now the final question is who gets to be the first one to feel you wrapped around their dick?”

There was the alpha-ness coming out to play. You pulled back slightly so you could talk.

“Don’t know” you moaned as Angel continued fingering you “don’t care. Just need to be fucked”

"So needy" Angel murmured.

The two men looked at each other and seemingly decided between themselves as Angel removed his fingers from your soaking folds and lifted them up to his mouth tasting you.

"Delicious" he said as he moved away from you, letting Miguel take his place.

You expected Miguel to use his fingers but he lined up his cock at your entrance and looked at you for approval.

"I'm on the pill" you told him and that was all the confirmation he needed. He sunk his cock deep into you and thrusted slowly at first but quickly picked up the pace. The sound of your bodies hitting against each other echoed around the room.

Miguel pinned your hands above your head and hoisted your legs over his shoulders so he could go deeper if that was even possible. You were having the best fuck of your life so far but Angel was still to have his way with you.

Angel was standing over you watching the pleasure on your face stroking his own cock. He looked amazing and you couldn't wait until his cock was deep inside you. He again took your nipple into his mouth gently licking it causing you to moan.

“Shit” you whimpered “Miguel, oh god, please don’t stop”

“Don’t plan on it” He panted as he thrust into you harder, his name falling off your tongue.

You were being pushed closer and closer to that edge again and you loved it, looking up you watched Angel tug at himself watching you getting fucked senseless, his breathing becoming erratic. Without warning you screamed, moaned and whimpered as another orgasm washed over your leaving your legs shaking, you knew you didn’t have much more left in you as Miguel thrust one last time shooting his seed into you.

“You got one more in you” Angel asked as he bit his lip as Miguel moved out of his way. “I’m not gonna go easy on you okay”

“Okay” you whispered, feeling your eyes starting to drop.

“Come on princesa keep your beautiful eyes open” Miguel whispered as he palmed your breasts as Angel pushed himself into you with ease.

“God you feel so good” he grunted as he grabbed your hips no doubt leaving bruises in his wake.

"Tell me what you want querida" Angel wanted to go fast and hard but he knew how exhausted you were so if you wanted slow and sensual he would oblige.

"Fuck me harder Reyes" you panted and he did. He intertwined his fingers with yours bringing your knuckles to his mouth and kissing each of them gently. The gesture took you by surprise and you smiled up at him causing him to slow down his thrusts considerably.

"I'm gonna cum if you keep looking at me like that” Angel said.

"You've done so well tonight mi amor" Miguel praised you now stroking your hair whilst slowly circling your clit with his other hand. He knew you were close and so did Angel.

"Cum for us" they both said in unison and you did, spilling your juices all over Angels cock. He followed soon after and admired his cum pouring from your folds with a proud smile on his face.

"Let's get you all cleaned up" Angel said removing his dick from you and heading to your bathroom to get you a wet cloth to wipe yourself.

All you could do was lay there, with a mix of both men’s cum and your own pooling onto the sofa, your breaths were heavy, and so were your eyes. You had never experienced a high as good as this and you weren’t one to shy away from turning blunts down.

“You did amazing querida” Miguel whispered kissing your head. You didn’t even have the energy to reply so you grumbled as Angel returned with the wet cloth, gently he ran the cloth against your thighs as he traced your tattoo with his fingers.

One of them retrieved your shirt from the kitchen and pulled it over your head. It was only 10pm and you kind of expected both of them to leave pretty soon but they surprised you as they pulled their boxers back on before Miguel scooped you up in his arms as he sat on the other end of the sofa as Angel brought you a mug of coffee he just made.

So you were now snuggled in between both men, completely spent from the activities of the evening, your eyes were getting heavier as Angel played with your hair and Miguel massaged your feet.

“You hungry Reyes?” Miguel asked Angel and that was the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

#angel reyes #miguel galindo #angel x miguel x reader #mayans mc #angel reyes fanfic #miguel galindo fanfic

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years ago

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Functional Dysfunction - Chapter 2 - Rheese

written by @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: talk about abortion, unplanned pregnancy, forceful admittance to hospital, swearing

Sarah was so thankful that she had a day off. She didn’t think that she could handle an interrogation. Not from Maggie or Natalie individually, much less so together. Her abortion was scheduled to take place in three days, she’d arranged to have that day off too, but for now, all Sarah wanted was to keep her mind off of everything, so she tied her curly hair into a bun, started blasting ABBA and cleaning her apartment. She’d gotten into the zone and hadn’t comprehended the time until she’d hit her shin on her coffee table for the umpteenth time while dancing around using her duster both as a cleaning tool and a mic. She plopped down onto her couch and looked at her work. She wasn’t a neat freak, but her place was usually pretty clean. Yes she’ll leave far too many books out on the coffee table, she doesn’t vacuum every week, and she refuses to buy dishes that can’t go in the dishwasher, but there’s no mold or layers of dust or strange smells, and she can always find what she needs when she needs it. But now, everything was put away, there wasn’t a stray coffee mug or spoon out on the counter, her apartment smelled like lemon Mr. Clean, and she was starving.

She untied her hair as she made her way down the street, letting the wind blow through it, cooling her from head to toe. She cut through the park, just enjoying the fall colours and not being drowned in stress for once. She let her mind wander, from a new Harry Potter fan theory she’d read on Tumblr to what she was going to get when she got to the Mills family diner. Her musing was cut short when she smacked right into someone. Her flustered apology was halted in her throat when the person gently held her arms to stabilize her. They were familiar, she’d felt them yesterday when she stood up too fast. She looked up as he released her. “Dr. Rhodes, sorry about that. I was a little lost in my head.”

“No worries, truthfully, I was spaced out too. And seriously, you can call me Connor, at least outside of work.” And for the first time, ever probably, Sarah took a good look at him.

Though he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. They were a piercing blue, but they looked so... Tired. There was a discernible aching sorrow vividly holding his soul hostage. His hair was mussed and it looked like he’d been trying to yank parts of it from his scalp. His shoulders, while strong and broad, were incredibly tense. Sarah actually started to feel pain in hers just looking at him. His skin clung closer to his body than it probably should have, and his pallor making her uneasy. He moved his hands back to his sides, and in all honesty that was probably the most concerning part of him. People often made the mistake of thinking surgeons had soft hands, but that wasn’t true. They didn’t get callouses from their jobs, but their hands were by no means soft. They had to thoroughly wash their hands, forearms, and elbows, before and after every surgery or medical procedure they performed. Plus they had to use hand sanitizer before and after they worked on or even met with a patient. It took a toll on their skin, and you could often tell how much a surgeon had been working based on the condition of their skin. And Rh-Connor’s... It was dark pink, going into his sleeves so she couldn’t see how far up the problem extended to, the skin was cracking, and it felt like scales as opposed to skin.

“Alright, Connor, what are you up to?”

“I’m just walking, I guess.”

“It’s a nice day for it. How’s Robin doing? I haven’t seen her in a while.” A dark look crossed his face and Sarah immediately kicked herself, this was obviously a very stressful, very private, matter that she had just callously asked about. Yes, she had a lot going on, but she should have realized that there was a reason. A secret. “I’m so sorry I didn’t-”

“Robin’s been admitted to psych.” Connor hadn’t told anyone, and had gone to great lengths to keep it as much of a secret as possible. She worked there, her father worked there, he worked there, none of them needed Robin’s situation to be broadcast all over the hospital. But honestly, it felt great to tell someone, to tell Sarah, someone who wasn’t directly involved. Dealing with Dr. Charles throughout, the man who’d forcibly admitted his daughter to psych in the first place, and Ms. Goodwin who supported Dr. Charles, as well as all the staff treating Robin, was exhausting.

“What?”

“Robin was admitted to psych... By Dr. Charles.”

“Oh my god, are you serious? Is that even legal?!”

“It’s... Yeah, it’s a whole thing... Situation. Wow, uh, TMI, I guess. Sorry to spring all of that on you. What are you up to?”

“Uh, well, still pregnant, still getting an abortion. I was just going to get lunch. At the Mills family diner? Uh, I’ve spent the whole day cleaning and avoiding Maggie, and Dr. Manning, and J- the father. You could come, if you want, to the diner I mean, not avoiding the father of- okay this has gotten...” Connor just chuckled, his eyes starting to look slightly less miserable. “I probably won’t be good company, but if you don’t mind...?”

“Not at all, come on, and I’m sure that you’ll be great company.”

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Lunch was surprisingly pleasant. It was awkward at first, but they found a rhythm. Honestly, they just ended up spending the entire time talking about Parks and Rec and Supernatural. It was so nice to talk about anything other than work and the plights in their lives. Connor looked slightly less strung out than when Sarah had first run into him. He seemed a little lighter and his smile really seemed more like a relief to himself. When he first gave Sarah that face-splitting, teeth=showing, jubilant smile he seemed to have shocked himself, confusion plastered all over his face, before a gentle smile flittered in and his body visibly released tension. Since then, he hadn’t stopped smiling, beaming brightly at her. Sarah briefly wondered if he’d smiled at all recently, with how turbulent his life has been. The silence between them was soft and warm. Comforting. They took the time to regard each other without any pressure or professional constraints, and it was nice. Connor sat across from her munching away on his corned beef sandwich, occasionally slurping away at his chocolate milkshake. The vigour with which he’d been eating made her wonder if he was actually taking care of himself. She took another bite of her Gabby’s mac ‘n cheese and savoured... Everything. The taste, her company, the atmosphere, this moment in time was the least hectic or nerve-wracking she’d had since she noticed her cycle was off. So she was just enjoying it while it lasted.

“You okay, Sarah?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You just seem sluggish. And we’ve been here for a while and you’ve barely made a dent in your food, plus you’re drinking peppermint tea.”

“My morning sickness hasn’t been great, if I’m honest. This is normally my favourite thing on the menu, and I don’t normally like pancakes because they’re so starchy but lately they’re all I’ve been wanting to eat! It’s so annoying. This at least has chicken and loads of vegetables. And hey, pregnancy is tiring! I’m always so sore and achy. Plus caffeine withdrawal is ripping me a new one.”

“You know, if you’re having an abortion, you don’t necessarily have to abide by all the pregnancy can’ts. They won’t really matter, anyway. So, why are you following all the guidelines?”

“I don’t know. It just feels like... They’re still here. They still matter. I’m still their mom, I still have to take care of them.” She shrugged a little and stared at the rim of her white mug, fiddling with the handle. Unable to handle the weight of Connor’s gaze and her own words.

“Maybe you should have ordered the chicken noodle soup. Their recipe is really good, plus it’ll be light on your stomach.” Her eyes snapped to his. There was nothing but sincerity looking back at her. There was a little concern, and the question she’d been avoiding suddenly became tangible and took a seat beside her, whispering ‘are you sure you want an abortion?’ delicately in her ear. But he didn’t ask her. He didn’t make any comments or judgments. He was just there, across from her, offering her kindness and food. She moved the plate away from in front of her and smiled sheepishly at him as he flagged down Peter. “Hey guys, is everything alright? Reese, you’ve hardly touched your food.”

“She’s not feeling super great, do you think we could get a bowl of chicken noodle and a container for the pasta?”

“Yeah, no problem Rhodes, everything will be right out.”

“Connor, you don’t have to do this, but I do really appreciate it.”

“Good, because I appreciate you too and everything that you’re doing for me. Don’t look so confused, you’ve been a great sounding board and distraction. And I honestly really needed that. Plus, I figured that since I’ve got dirt on you so you can’t tell anyone about the Robyn thing.” There was absolutely no malice in his words and Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. It really was a relief to have someone to talk to about her baby, and he was right, if he did suddenly just spill the beans she could do the same in retaliation. She doubted he ever would though, he was an incredibly private person and valued privacy more than Ron Swanson. “Doris would have a field day with us, wouldn’t she?”

“Oh hell, Sarah, don’t even joke about that. If she knew...” She laughed again at his overdramatic shudder. But she knew he was right. No one could know. Especially not Doris.

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

It was late in the day when they finally left the diner, the air cooling down from crisp to chilly, the winds much harsher and stronger than usual. Sarah’s apartment was only a ten-minute walk away but Connor insisted on taking her home. She’d managed to talk him out of walking her to her door, but not of driving her there. “What kind of guy would I be if I let a pregnant woman walk home alone when the weather just got worse?” Something in his tone, and the way he spoke so freely about her pregnancy, made her think that he knew something she wasn’t willing to consider just yet, but she was trying not to think about it. Instead, she focused on the interior of Connor’s luxury car. “Is this silver? On the door handles?”

“No... It’s platinum.”

“Really?!”

“Yes. What, do you want to hear about all the extravagant features in this car?”

“Oh absolutely.”

“Seriously?”

“Mostly cause I know it annoys you, but yeah.”

“Well, another time then, because we are here.”

“After a two-minute car ride. I could have walked myself.”

“I grew up here, you didn’t, when the wind gets that bad it’s best to avoid the outdoors.”

“Alright, well thanks for the ride and for looking out for my safety.”

“No problem, I’ll see you at work tomorrow, right?”

“Depends. I’ll spend most of the day avoiding Maggie and Manning which will involve lots of hiding.”

“Well, maybe we could hide together? I doubt that Robyn’s admittance to the hospital will stay secret for long. Plus, today was nice. We should hang out again.”

“We should, it really was refreshing. And, uh, if you do need a place to hide tomorrow, my spot is on the second floor of the atrium in the small hallway behind the janitor’s closet on the right side. There’s a couch there and because nothing else is down there no one really uses it, and it can be pretty quiet. As long as you don’t tell anyone else, you’re free to use it.”

“Thanks, Sarah. Something tells me I’ll be needing that information.” The weight that had evaporated over the course of the afternoon seemed to return, his movements slowed, his limbs appeared heavier, his smile dropped, and his eyes went dark, reflecting pain and exhaustion. Sarah honestly just wanted to give him a hug. But she couldn’t. They didn’t know each other that well, and spending the afternoon with him was already a little strange, despite how nice it was. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Connor. You should go home, get some sleep. You seem... Tired.”

“I am. And, I think I’ll do just that. Thank you, Sarah, really. This afternoon was really what I needed. And I do want to do it again sometime.”

“Then we will. Bye Connor.”

#One Chicago #chicago med #Chicago Fire #Sarah Reese #connor rhodes #connor rhodes x sarah reese #sarah x connor #rheese #Natalie Manning #peter mills

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shijiujun · 5 years ago

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sugar in the morning, sugar in the evening

(aka that sugar baby ficlet i wanted to see and then decided to write myself as a self-indulgent thing)

---

It comes to him suddenly in the middle of the day while talking to an old lady from the crowd surrounding their latest crime scene. Nothing special really happens, there isn’t a huge, eureka moment, but more like a soft… click, and everything falls into place in his head just like that.

And it all begins when the lady goes, “It’s nice to have a young man so taken with you, right?”

Lu Yao’s brilliant mind actually comes to a stop at the seemingly innocent remark, so much so that his train of thought actually disappears. That has not happened before.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Oh, don’t be shy! At my age, what have I not seen? That young inspector, isn’t he your boyfriend?” the lady leans in conspiratorially. “He’s been looking over at you repeatedly since you arrived. And I may be old, but I’m not blind! The watch you’re wearing, it’s the exact same type as his! It must’ve been a gift to you, no? Oh, it is a really lovely watch, can I touch it-“

“I think you’ve misunderstood something, ma’am,” Lu Yao forces a laugh, then turning his head around slightly.

It can’t be true, can it?

When he does turn, however, Qiao Chusheng is indeed faced his way, and he’s almost glaring at Lu Yao, impatient. Out of habit, Lu Yao jumps when their eyes meet, whether in fear or something else, he’s not sure.

Huh, Lu Yao thinks.

“We’re taking the body back to the station,” Chusheng says as he strolls over, looking at Lu Yao in a mixture of expectation and amusement. “Ah Dou is done with the police statements. Are you ready to go?”

It is the exact same watch, just with different coloured straps. How could he have missed it? Lu Yao doesn’t miss anything.

“Yeah, I’m done,” he nods, before remembering something. “Hold on a second, are we near Fu Lu Street? There’s a restaurant just three blocks away, I hear they serve the best duck in the city, can we…”

Chusheng’s expression goes carefully blank, both his eyebrows raised as he crosses his arms with a sigh, waiting for Lu Yao to go on.

Lu Yao laughs once, moving forward and batting his eyelashes at the man.

“Inspector Qiao, please? Come on, it’s just three blocks over, and when will we ever happen to be in this part of the city again? It’s so far away from the station and the house and I haven’t had duck since I came to this city. I can’t think when I’m hungry either, are you sure you want me to delay the progress of the-“

Chusheng puts up his hand, shaking his head. “Fine. We’ll go. This is an exception, don’t make it a habit.”

Delighted at having gotten his way, Lu Yao immediately moves off in the direction of the restaurant, trusting that Chusheng will follow behind. As they walk in silence, however, Lu Yao’s mind wanders back to what the old lady said earlier.

His eyes drop to the watch on his wrist, his reward for having solved Uncle Tan’s case. He thought it was a one-off thing… but now that he thinks about it, when was the last time he had to take out his own wallet to pay for something?

At the old lady’s reminder, Lu Yao realizes with a start that everything on him except for his shoes are gifts from Chusheng. His watch was a reward for breaking Uncle Tan’s case, and the suit… the both of them dropped into the river while chasing a suspect (Chusheng chased, while Lu Yao ran off to hide in the wrong direction and ended up falling down a slope, right into the river) and when Lu Yao woke up in the Bai Manor the next day with no memory as to how he got there, there it was, a checkered three-piece suit hanging at the door just for him.

As for the tie, Lu Yao has to recall if this is his, or if he snagged one of Chusheng’s rarely-used but expensive ones in retaliation for not letting him finish a bowl of beef noodles from his favourite store before dragging him off to a case. It’s in the same colour, although… Lu Yao nods, this tie is definitely Chusheng’s. He can tell just by the material under his fingertips.

When Lu Yao orders a full serving of roasted duck (Chusheng still rolls his eyes and gripes about how much he’s eating), the man quietly takes care of the bill regardless after Lu Yao is done. Not that Lu Yao would have any money on him to pay for the meal, of course. He’s reminded of all the meals he’s had in the past week - Chusheng has been paying for those too, and the one dinner they had at his house, Chusheng brought the groceries over for that one.

Even his baguettes! The past few times, Lu Yao barely had to pat through his pockets for non-existent money before Chusheng was leaning over and paying the store owner for him.

“You’ve been buying things for me,” Lu Yao says in the car, seated next to Chusheng as the inspector drives.

Chusheng looks at him, bewildered. “Of course I have. Or did you just forget that I paid for your roasted duck meal?”

“Not just that,” Lu Yao puts up his index finger as he thinks, “My suit. The watch.”

“The first was because you had no clothes at Bai manor, was I supposed to let you walk back naked? Plus, it’s not like you could have fit into any of my clothes. The second I explained to you too. That was for Uncle Tan’s case.”

“The new navy blue satin bedrobe in my room?”

“Didn’t you say You Ning ripped your original one apart after you refused to analyse the Bo Wan Tong case for her? The girls at the club knew where to get some nice ones, and I heard them talking about it.”

“What about my house rent?”

“This-“ Chusheng frowns, “ADon’t you remember? You were the one who asked for it as payment on the Hu Bin Yao case!”

“What about that bottle of cologne imported from England?”

“That Westerner you helped to prove innocent in the serial killing case offered!”

“Except,” Lu Yao finally turns to look at him, “That you insisted on putting the watch on for me personally at the dinner after giving it to me and it’s the exact same model as yours. Also, my original suit was probably cleaned and dry by the time I woke up, but you still got me a new one. That new bedrobe costs at least 200, the fabric is imported from India and there’s only one store in the whole of this city that can supply it which is exactly a 90-minute drive away from here.”

“As for the house rent, I’ve asked you so many times beofre but you’ve always found some way to not do it, and don’t even try!” Lu Yao points at Chusheng when the man opens his mouth. “Mr. Langdon said if he had any stock left he would give some to me, but his own shop and warehouse were wrecked in the aftermath, so unless you got him to specially ship some new stock over and paid some cash for it, I don’t think he would have done it that quickly, at least.”

“Not to mention everything I’ve wanted to eat in the past few weeks. You usually run off before I can make you pay for my baguettes. That hasn’t happened recently.”

Chusheng sighs softly, a smile tugging at the ends of his lips, but he doesn’t turn to look at Lu Yao. Instead, he stops the car after pulling them into a deserted alley first.

“So?” the inspector asks, leaning into his seat and finally giving Lu Yao his attention.

Lu Yao blinks, tapping at his chin as he observes Chusheng with the most innocent expression he can muster. “So…. why have you been going out of your way to buy things for me?”

Chusheng only chuckles, and Lu Yao barely blinks once before the man is leaning into his space. Out of reflex, Lu Yao inches his way backwards until the back of his head is pressed tight against the window behind him.

“Why do you think? You’re the great detective here, not me. I’ll give you one minute to think of the right answer.”

“Hmm,” Lu Yao avoids the man’s gaze, feeling oddly nervous as he tries to look at anything but Chusheng, who’s trapping him in this small, enclosed space. “Are you trying to bribe me into solving more cases for you?”

“Wrong answer, try again.”

“Boss Bai sent you to bribe me to be You Ning’s boyfriend?”

“Possible,” Chusheng pauses and considers this one. “It does sound like what he’d do, but not this time.”

He’s so close now, close enough for Lu Yao to run his fingers hesitantly down the front of Chusheng’s jacket. Close enough that Lu Yao can almost hear Chusheng’s heartbeat and feel the heat emanating off him. And while he has an inkling of what the correct answer might be thanks to the conversation he had with the old lady earlier, he’s not entirely certain still.

Lu Yao can tell what a person’s had for their last meal, where they came from, what they do and their personal habits just from a single look, and he has solved plenty of cases confidently. When it comes to Qiao Chusheng, however, Lu Yao is never really quite sure.

“Time’s up.”

Snapping out of his thoughts quickly, Lu Yao looks up with his eyes wide, prepared to argue with Chusheng when the man closes the remaining distance between them and kisses him.

When they finally pull apart, all Lu Yao can do is stare, his breaths coming out uneven after the very thorough kiss Chusheng gave him. He’s not usually one to be speechless, but this… thing has him oddly flustered and awkward, his earlier self-assured demeanour all gone.

“Then why-“

“Because all I want to do is give you everything you want, that’s why,” Chusheng responds easily, before ducking in to steal another kiss from Lu Yao.

#my roommate is a detective #MRIAD #ficlet #i tried #although can someone pls do an actual proper sugar baby/sugar daddy fic #cries #name your price!!#;-;#chuyao

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wonkasmissstarshine · 4 years ago

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The Chocolatier’s Rose {Willy Wonka x OC} Ch. 9

GIFs not mine. Credit go to owners.

Summary: Willy shows his guests the Inventing Room. And Violet’s gum chewing comes back to bite her in the butt.

A/N: This is where it starts getting really fluffy between Rose and Willy.

Tagging: @holdmeicant @willymywonkers

Willy got out of the boat first so he could usher everyone out of it. Rose was the last one to step off, and being the clumsy girl she was, she managed to trip over her feet. Luckily, she was caught by a pair of arms.

"It's alright, starshine" Willy whispered to Rose. "I've got you"

"Thanks" She muttered softly to him, looking up at the face of her saviour. Her heart began to beat faster when she realized how close their faces were. The tips of their noses were touching.

It felt like it was only them in their own little world until the sound of someone clearing their throat reeled them back into reality. Rose and Willy turned their heads to see everyone staring weirdly at them. Well, everyone except for Charlie who had a wide grin on his face.

The two lovebirds stepped away from each other. Rose walked over to Charlie. She could feel a set of eyes glaring into the back of her head. She turned her head to see Mrs Beauregarde's eyes flared with jealousy. Rose just decided to ignore the woman for now. The door to the Inventing Room opened, and Willy led everyone inside.

Rose's eyes lit up in fascination when she saw all the machines and flasks, the smoke and colourful liquids. "Now this is the most important room in the entire factory!" Willy explained and then he cautioned. "Now, everyone enjoy yourselves, but just don't touch anything. Okay? Go on!"

Every child was quick to run off, except for Charlie. He looked up at Rose, and she gave him a nod with a smile. Charlie then walked off. He was definitely the most behaved child here, well, the only behaved child. Rose went off to do some exploring of her own. She felt the presence of someone come to stand next to her. She turned her head to see Willy.

"Does anything in particular catch your eye?" He asked her curiously, playfully bumping his shoulder against hers.

"It's hard to say" Rose said, smiling up at him. "Everything here is so fascinating" A smile danced across Willy's lips. He was glad the girl was enjoying herself. He looked down to see that their hands were nearly touching. Rose didn't seem to notice yet though. He was about to make a bold move, and lace their fingers together, but the moment was ruined.

"Hey, Mr Wonka! What's this?" Violet called loudly from a pool with windows which she and Mike were looking at. Oompa-Loompas were swimming inside it.

Willy pursed his lips in annoyance, glancing in the child's direction. He just wanted one uninterrupted moment with Rose. "Oh! Let me show you!" Willy's annoyance was replaced with excitement when he saw what Violet and Mike were standing by. He walked over, and an Oompa-Loompa emerged from the water. He handed Willy a red ball. "Thank you!" He said the Oompa-Loompa. Everyone gathered around Willy to hear what he had to say. "These are Everlasting Gobstoppers. They're for children who are given very little allowance money. You can suck on it all year, and it'll never get any smaller. Isn't that neat?"

"It's like gum" Violet compared.

"No" Willy disagreed. "Gum is for chewing. And if you tried chewing one of these Gobstoppers, you'd break all your little teeth off" He admired the piece of candy wearing a proud smile. "They sure do taste terrific"

He walked off to the next machine and everybody followed after him. "And this is Hair Toffee" He picked up a piece of candy that looked similar to chewy caramel. "You suck down one of these little boogers, and in exactly half an hour, a brand new crop of hair will start growing out all over the top of your little noggin. And a moustache. And a beard"

"Who wants a beard?" Mike asked, clearly not impressed.

"Well," Willy paused a moment as he thought of an answer. "Beatniks for one. Folk singers and motorbike riders. You know, all those hip, jazzy, super cool, neat, keen, and groovy cats. It's in the fridge daddy-o. Are you hep to the jive? Can you dig what I'm laying down? I knew that you could. Slide me some skin, soul brother!" Willy stretched his hand out to Mike, waiting for the boy to give him five. Mike didn't, he just glanced weirdly at the man. Willy pulled his hand back when he realized Mike wasn't going to do anything.

"Unfortunately, the mixture isn't quite right yet because an Oompa-Loompa tried some yesterday, and well, he...." As if on cue, an Oompa-Loompa resembling Cousin Itt walked over. He had hair all over, it was a wonder he could even see where he was going. "How are you today?" Willy asked the Oompa-Loompa. It held up two thumbs. "You look great!"

Then finally, Willy led everyone over to a machine where an Oompa-Loompa had dumped various foods into it. "Watch this!" Willy said excitedly and then pulled on a lever.

The machine whirred and buzzed, bubbled and smoked, until it was finished and dispensed the finishing product. A stick of gum. Violet took it and examined it.

"You mean that's it?" Mike said, unimpressed yet again.

"Do you even know what it is?" Willy mocked Mike's tone.

"It's gum" Violet stated.

"Yeah! It's a stick of the most amazing and sensational gum in the whole universe! Know why? Know why?"

Rose could tell how excited Willy was about the gum so she decided to play along with him. "Why is it the most amazing and sensational gum?" She asked, tilting her head curiously.

"This gum is a full three course dinner all by itself!"

"Why would anyone want that?" Mr Salt asked.

Willy reached into his coat pockets and grabbed the flash cards. He flipped through them until he found the right one, and began to read from it. "It'll be the end of all kitchens and all cooking. Just a little strip of Wonka's magic chewing gum and that is all you will ever need at breakfast, lunch and dinner. This piece of gum happens to be tomato soup, roast beef and blueberry pie"

"It sounds great!" Rose said.

"It sounds weird" Veruca judged.

"It sounds like my kind of gum" Violet decided. She took out the piece of gum she was currently chewing, and stuck it behind her ear. Rose cringed at the little blonde girl. That was utterly disgusting, and she was surprised that Violet didn't get the stuff stuck in her hair.

"I'd rather you didn't" Willy warned. "There's still one or two things that are—"

Violet interrupted him. "I'm the world record holder in chewing gum. I'm not afraid of anything!" She shoved the fresh stick of gum in her mouth, all while Mrs Beauregarde was smiling pridefully at her daughter.

Violet began chewing and Mrs Beauregarde asked her, "How is it, honey?"

"It's amazing! Tomato soup! I can feel it running down my throat!"

"Yeah!" Willy nodded and smiled nervously. "Spit it out!"

Rose even tried getting Violet to stop. "Young lady, I think you'd better—"

She was rudely interrupted by Violet as the gum changed tastes. "It's changing! Roast beef with baked potato! Crispy skin and butter!"

"Keep chewing, kiddo!" Mrs Beauregarde encouraged her daughter. Rose rolled her eyes. She was just as bad as her daughter. "My little girls gonna be the first person in the world to have a chewing gum meal!"

"Yeah," Willy said, still feeling anxious. "I'm just a little concerned about the—"

"Blueberry pie and ice cream!" Violet said.

"That part"

Veruca noticed something odd. "What's happening to her nose?" Everyone looked at Violet to see what Veruca was talking about. A little speck of blue appeared on the tip of Violet's nose and very quickly began to spread.

"It's turning blue!" Mr Salt exclaimed.

Violet looked up at her mother. "Your whole nose has gone purple!" Mrs Beauregarde said.

"What do you mean?" Violet asked as she touched her nose.

"Violet, you're turning violet!" Violet's eyes widened in fright as she looked at Willy. Mrs Beauregarde looked at him as well and asked, "What's happening?"

"Well, I told you I hadn't quite got it right 'cause it goes a little funny when it gets to the dessert" Willy explained. "It's the blueberry pie that does it. I'm terribly sorry" He ducked down and hid behind the machine.

Violet's whole face had gone blue, and now her hands and hair were turning blue as well. The colour change was even affecting her clothes. "Mother, what's happening to me?" Violet asked, feeling horrified as she looked at her hand. Everyone backed away from her. If the colour change wasn't bad enough, Violet also started to engorge.

"She's swelling up!" Rose noted.

"Like a blueberry!" Charlie added.

Once Violet was completely blown up, Willy appeared from behind Mrs Beauregarde. He spooked her as he told her. "I've tried it on like twenty Oompa-Loompas, and each one ended up as a blueberry. It's just weird!"

"But I can't have a blueberry as a daughter!" Mrs Beauregarde shook her head at him. "How is she supposed to compete?"

"That's what you're concerned about?" Rose asked the woman, completely appalled. "Honestly, your daughter is blue and as a big as a hot air balloon, and the thing you're worried about is competitions? Maybe if you had been a better parent, then--"

"Don't you tell me how to parent my child!" Mrs Beauregarde snapped at Rose. Rose flinched a her tone, but she decided against arguing with her any further.

"You could put her in a county fair!" Veruca chirped, a little too happy about the situation.

Suddenly, the machines in the room began making a rhythm. Rose knew that the Oompa-Loompas were going to start singing again, and she was excited to hear them. Some Oompa-Loompas emerged from the smoke and they began to sing. Willy started dancing to the song, and Rose couldn't help but dance too.

Listen close, and listen hard,

The tale of Violet Beauregarde

This dreadful girl she sees no wrong

Chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing all day long

Chewing, chewing all day long.chewing,

Chewing all day long.

Chewing, chewing all day long.

She goes on chewing till at last

Her chewing muscles go so fast.

And from her face her giant chin

Sticks out just like a violin

Chewing, chewing all day long. chewing,

Chewing all day long.

Chewing, chewing all day long

For years and years she chews away

Her jaw gets stronger every day.

And with one great tremendous chew

They bite the poor girls tongue in two

And that is why we try so hard

To save miss Violet Beauregarde

Chewing, chewing all day long chewing,

Chewing all day long

Chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing all day long

As the song ended, Willy kept dancing, and an angry Mrs Beauregarde approached him. The look she had on her face was one of pure anger. When he noticed Mrs Beauregarde, he stopped dancing and looked at the Oompa-Loompa that approached. "I want you to roll Miss Beauregarde into the boat and take her along to the Juicing Room at once, okay?"

The Oompa-Loompa crossed its arms over its chest. "The Juicing Room?" Mrs Beauregarde repeated. "What are they gonna do to her there?"

"They're gonna squeeze her!" Willy answered with a wild grin. "Like a little pimple!" Mrs Beauregarde's eyes widened and her mouth opened in horror. "We gotta squeeze all that juice out of her immediately"

Without another word, Mrs Beauregarde ran over to help the Oompa-Loompas push Violet out of the room. Willy faced everyone. "Come on, let's boogie!" He beckoned. Everyone began moving along, but Rose was stopped when she felt Willy gently grab her arm. She looked at him to see him smiling wildly at her. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands!"

"Okay" She said. Rose closed her eyes, cupped her hands together and held them out. She could feel something being dropped in her hand. Her hands closed together around whatever had been put in her palms. Then she could feel a pair of hands wrap around her own. Her hands were being guided until she felt something soft brush against the back of one of her hands.

That's when she opened her eyes to see Willy pressing a gentle kiss to her hand. Rose's lips parted slightly, and her eyes locked with his. The two of them shared an intense stare. Willy released her hands and he smirked at her. "Come along, starshine"

Willy walked off. That's when Rose looked down at her hands to see what he had given her. It was the Everlasting Gobstopper. She grinned at the candy and started walking again.

#willy wonka x oc #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka #rose bucket #my oc #rose and willy #the chocolatier's rose

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