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anntoldst0ries · 4 years ago

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Coda (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart 3, Chapter 7 Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: 3.1k Rating: 18+ (NSFW) Summary: Things got heated between Dr Ramsey and Dr Valentine during Bloom’s event. Will they finish what they’ve started?

Warning: This fic contains adult content, don’t read if you’re a minor.

A/N: Happy Easter, folks! So, let’s pretend this horror of a dress (which, let’s be honest, even Bloom’s PA wouldn’t wear) never happened. Also, this is my first time ever publishing NSFW fic, so please be understanding 🙈 That being said, I always appreciate feedback and am forever grateful for all of you, because you help me grow 💜

Huge shoutout to Bree @jamespotterthefirst who was so lovely to pre-read it and actually encouraged me to post, girl you are golden and I just cannot thank you enough! We are all so lucky to have you 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼😍

Even though he was trying to be sensible about this, every molecule of sense left him during his left palm’s chance encounter with Noelle Valentine’s bare thigh.

But has anything about their touching bodies ever been truly accidental?

Although, if he was honest, this was just the culmination point.

His rational mind’s death by a thousand cuts.

It all started when she entered the premises of the venue in her provocative dress and he had to blink rapidly a few times, thinking that his eyes were deceiving him, breath trapped in his throat.

Cut.

Her every step gracious and light, as if she’s been the human embodiment of a wood nymph.

As if she’s stolen the world's entire allure.

Cut.

Her silky waves, cascading like a waterfall - he wanted to dive into them, lose himself in them.

Drown in them.

Cut.

She was a prodigy, a goddess descending from mount Olympus, who, for some mysterious reason, decided to grace the mortals with her overwhelming presence.

Some guests were standing agape, the others smiled wide and showered her with rain of compliments; a few people had tiny lightnings of jealousy flickering in their eyes.

But no one was left indifferent by her grand entrance.

Strangely, Ethan didn’t feel jealousy.

In fact, he couldn’t be more proud.

His eyes, like x-rays, have relentlessly been reminding him of the perfect shapes hiding under the layers of the sophisticated, silky material. In this regard, he envied everyone else. Unlike him, imagination was all they had.

He knew. He touched. He teased. He tasted. He caressed.

Sometimes, ignorance was truly a bliss.

Today, ignorance was certainly not going to help him get through this evening.

* * * * * *

He almost lost it on the balcony.

Then, the sudden appearance of musicians interrupted them.

He wasn’t startled.

He was angry.

Freaking Bloom and his jazz band, he thought to himself. How on earth was he constantly able to rain on Ethan’s parade, even when they weren’t physically in the same room?

Noelle’s pearly laugh dissipated all thoughts in an instant, her impossibly beautiful face now turned to him. Entwining their hands, Ethan knew he had no choice but to play along.

Inside, he was laughing out of the other side of his mouth.

They were coming back to the room full of buffoons and right now her presence was as comforting as it was driving him further into insanity.

Before he was even able to sit down, someone has already slipped a drink into his hand and when Ethan was ready to sigh and curse the fate that sent him to Bloom’s 4th circle of hell*, a sudden realisation struck him.

This evening wasn’t lost yet.

In fact, it wasn’t lost at all.

And as he was thinking, a small smile ran past his lips.

The answer was right there in front of him.

* * * * * *

“Dr Ramsey, you’re still here?” Ethan had heard the unwanted and all too loud voice, followed by an even more unwanted pat on the back, accompanied by his nemesis’ reddened face and alcohol breath.

He plastered a fake smile, mustering the remains of politeness.

“You didn’t strike me as a party type, I thought you’d be making excuses a long time ago.” Leland grinned like a Cheshire cat. For a second, an outsider could have almost thought these two hold each other in high regard.

Almost being the key word.

“This is the most pleasant surprise.” Leland continued. “You see, I am rarely wrong, so it’s one of these moments when not only am I wrong, but also being wrong actually makes me happy.” He laughed as if he’s just delivered the best punch line in the world.

“Well, we are representing the hospital after all and I wouldn’t be too much of an example if I left before the rest of my team.” Ethan put on his best charming smile, not without a superhuman effort.

You don’t play the game, you play the opponent, he reminded himself.

“It looks like we are finally agreeing on something, doctor.” A sleazy smile ran past his lips, as he left to mingle with another circle. Inside, Ethan shuddered. There was just something about Bloom that didn’t add up and he was yet to figure what it was… but now his focus shifted to something else entirely.

Just like he predicted (or diagnosed, if you will) with every sip, every passing minute, the guests were falling deeper and deeper into inebriation - the excellent staff made sure that every time someone emptied their glass, a new dose of liquid happiness was ready for them. Dr Ramsey knew this must have been Bloom’s doing.

They may have had money and resources but during these events, they were like wild animals held captive and then suddenly let loose. Their problem was that they thought money could pay for everything, but it certainly couldn’t buy back dignity, redeem bad manners and erase terrible first impressions.

Tonight, he will use this flawed logic to his advantage.

* * * * * *

Noelle was sitting across the table, not even trying to hide anymore that whatever the tech moguls were trying to sell, she wasn’t buying.

Neither their fancy apps nor their bullshit.

Ethan finished yet another glass of scotch and stood up, his height towering over everyone else at the table.

“Well, it’s about time I was moving. Thank you for a very… revelatory evening, gentlemen.” The other table occupiers didn’t even pay too much attention and murmured something, shifting their focus back to the beautiful female doctor. “Dr Valentine, can I offer you a ride home? That is, if you were planning to leave soon…”

“That would be great, thank you, Dr Ramsey.” If her eyes could speak up, they would have definitely thanked him for throwing her a lifebelt.

“Fantastic, meet me outside in 10 minutes then? I have…one more business to attend to beforehand.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what it was — the look, the pause between words, the accentuation - but something told her that whatever business he meant, she was very much a part of it.

Her suspicion has soon turned out to be justified, as his tall figure wandered off and disappeared around the corner.

A corner he had absolutely no reason to disappear around.

The younger doctor waited a minute before making her excuses and assuring her companions that a future partnership with Edenbrook couldn’t look any brighter, Noelle turned around and followed the man in black suit.

Walking as fast as her hurting feet and long gown were allowing her, Noelle entered a long corridor at the back of the fancy restaurant and had to admit that even this place, which must have simply led to different utility rooms, looked spectacular and stylish. Almost like those fairytale corridors, which lead to other dimensions.

But only if a voice summons you and guides you there.

Just as the thought popped into her head, a firm grip tightened around one of her wrists, making her jump.

When she turned around, his index finger was on his lips in a clear message.

Quiet.

They only made a couple of steps before he cautiously opened the door and rushed her into a room. It looked like a sophisticated pantry or a wine cellar and she thought the stock must have been worth more than her annual salary.

The room was dark, bar for the little window, which wasn’t much helpful with providing the light, given that the world outside was hugged by the arms of the night.

“Ethan, what’s goi—“ She never had a chance to finish the sentence, before he took her breath away with his lips, not for the first time this evening. He didn’t stop there, pushing her towards the counter, like a famished animal backing its victim into the corner.

“You said you’ll be looking for an encore, didn’t you?” She was trying to accustom her sight to the darkness, the gleam in the blue of his eyes her only reference point.

“Although, if I’m not mistaken and my opera knowledge is still sharp, I think coda** is actually the word you’re looking for.”

She stilled, a shiver running through her spine, the electric feel both hot and cold. An audible swallow filled the silence that lingered after his words, not for long as he continued his monologue.

“And I’m sorry, Dr Valentine, but I’m not a patient man today…I’ve exhausted all my patience on senseless endeavours this evening.” Almost as if to prove the sincerity of his words, he started moving towards her, his every gesture deliberate; there was no space for randomness.

Every word hit her like a wrecking ball, her remaining senses overkeen. She couldn’t rely on her eyes anymore and her hearing, smell and touch suddenly became heavily heightened, almost supernatural.

She couldn’t reflect on this for too long though, as he backed her further towards the counter, blocking her moves.

“H-how… how do you know no one’s gonna come in?”

Even in the dark, she could see the corners of his lips going up, in a smile which wasn’t affectionate. It was dark, almost sinister.

And hot as hell.

Ethan leaned into her and dropped his voice even lower than she thought was humanly possible, whispering straight into her ear.

“I don’t, but… my diagnostic instincts rarely fail me, Noelle Valentine. Plus… that’s a part of the thrill, isn’t it?” He paused for a second to gloat upon the effect his ministrations had on her. Dr Ramsey enjoyed controlling the situation - more than he’d care to admit.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t fantasised of this, of losing yourself in me completely… except you couldn’t, because of a tiny detail, a stubborn question in your pretty head… what if someone walks in on us? What if it happens when you are overwhelmed by pure ecstasy, knowing there is no coming back, that the only way is forward…”

Ethan knew immediately that these words hit the jackpot. If she wasn’t before, she was definitely shaking now, her treacherous body betraying her in all ways possible.

That’s how she knew all these months ago. Maybe her mind could, but her body could never lie to Ethan Freaking Ramsey.

Ethan’s hands started roaming her body, discovering his favourite promised land, as if he had not been touching her on that balcony earlier, as if he’d never touched her before.

Because for him, every time with her was first and last. And he hoped things would always feel this way.

“Who are you and what have you done to Ethan Ramsey?”

She couldn’t see the smirk that appeared on his painfully handsome face.

“If I were you, I’d be more worried about what’s to be done to you, Dr Valentine.”

With this, he lifted her up by grabbing her ass and sat her on the counter, pressing her back against the cold wall, which felt strangely warm against her body.

Or not so strangely, given there was a fire inside of her.

Securing her neck with his palm, he pulled her closer for a long, wet and greedy kiss, the obscene sounds of their mouths filling the otherwise silent space.

“Touch me.” A silent plea fell off her lips, her voice a quiet sob. Usually, he’d enjoy teasing her forever, playing little games, checking how far she would go to get what she wanted. But not tonight.

Tonight… he’s gonna give her exactly what she wants.

Because he wants it even more.

His middle and index finger slipped past the silky material of the dress and the band of her underwear. Noelle parted her lips slightly and drew a shallow breath, waiting in anticipation. Her wish was granted a couple of seconds later, when he ran up and down her folds, eliciting a small, guttural moan, which he was sure would forever be his favourite sound in the whole world.

Before she was even able to get used to the feeling, he pushed 2 digits into her without warning, making her eyes wide with amazement. But the movement stilled a second later. Maybe he couldn’t not tease her after all.

“Please.” The sound that came out of her was almost inaudible, yet extremely high pitched. Even if he tried, Ethan simply didn’t know the words that could come close to describing what these reactions were doing to him.

“You know I will give you the world… I will give you anything you want, Noelle. You just need to tell me what it is that you desire.”

She didn’t know what was the biggest turn on - his sultry voice dripping with desire, the feeling of his digits inside her or the well thought out choice of words. But it gave her an answer immediately.

“Fuck me with your fingers, Ethan.”

There was something shy and yet confident about the way she said it, he couldn’t explain it. Whatever it was, it made him even harder, which, at this point he thought wasn’t humanly possible. Although he was painfully aware of his own desire, he couldn’t rid neither her nor himself of the pleasure of watching her come undone on his fingers.

“As you wish, my naughty girl.”

His fingers started moving in come-hither motion, first slowly and teasingly. Just when she opened her mouth to beg him again, his thumb circled her swollen clit and pressed the sensitive bundle of nerves with precision, sending her mind into overdrive. She had to bite her own shoulder to suppress what she was sure would turn into a scream.

“Fuck… yes, right there.” She was an incoherent mess, while his fingers curved and touched places that made her eyes roll. “Faster, Ethan.” She commanded weakly as his fingers picked up the face, going in and out of her furiously.

She was pleading and moaning for god knows what and her hands were desperate to grip something, just anything.

Soon, he knew as well as she did that the peak was close, for her body kept moving and shaking on its own accord.

“I’m…this…you…” She cried, making even less sense than before.

“I know. Let go… let go now, Noelle. I know you needed this so much. Come for me now, baby.”

Sinking her teeth, this time in his shoulder, and tightening her grip on him, Noelle clenched around his fingers, the feeling so arousing that he thought he’s going to explode himself. He had to hold her with all the strength he had in his free arm, as she was all over the place, trembling, cursing, riding out what must have been one of the strongest orgasms she’s ever experienced.

When the feeling settled, Ethan slowly loosened his grip over her and slid his fingers out, bringing them to his lips. The taste of her astounded him every single time.

“In case I haven’t told you before… nothing can compare to the way you taste. Maybe apart from the way you feel, but I need to check to be certain.”

Before he was able to do so himself, she reached for his belt and unbuckled it hastily, letting his pants pool at his feet. Ethan hissed when she was ridding him of the last layer separating them, his throbbing member oversensitive to the slightest touch. He responded in kind, slipping her thongs down.

He stared at her as if he’s forgotten how to blink before saying:

“If I were you, I’d hold on tight.”

She grabbed the edge of the counter and tightened her grip, leaning onto her other arm, palm pressed flat onto the surface. Ethan positioned himself in front of her and the moment his tip met her sex, a wild lust overtook him completely, from top to bottom. He pushed hard, their bodies finally connecting.

He didn’t waste time to make himself or her feel comfortable. Right now, he wasn’t a guest - he was the invader, the intruder, the conqueror.

“Fuck, it’s impossible you’re still so tight.”

In answer, she clenched her muscles around him even more, earning herself a throaty sound.

“You little minx.”

She was going to be the death of him and what an epic death it would be.

“Ethan, fuck me like you mean it.” Noelle bit her lower lip, knowing the effect this tiny gesture always had on him. He didn’t need anything more. The sound of fast thrusts soon filled the air, making it thick and dense. The race started, two lovers chasing their gratification like it was the last thing they were ever going to do.

This wasn’t vanilla.

It was chilli, whiskey neat and flames.

A dance of carnal desires, intense and salient, leading to the grand finale. Nothing finesse, quite the contrary - a satiation of the most primal of human desires.

Ethan kept thrusting into her so deep that she felt blood when she had to bite her lip, trying to stop the animalistic scream trapped in her throat, begging to be released. She felt every vein, every nerve inside of her, every place he was reaching. Her hands and arms hurt, but her mind, currently controlled by Ethan’s cock moving in and out of her in killer pace, has overridden any physical sensations other than pure pleasure.

“So…so close.” She panted weakly, rolling her eyes as waves of pleasure kept crashing on her.

Leaning into her, he caught her earlobe and as he kissed her ear, Ethan groaned. “You’re so,” thrust, “fucking”, thrust, “hot”, thrust, “when”, thrust, “you come.”

And with that, she came.

Her whole body arched and hot white pleasure turned every cell of her body into bliss. It was like jumping into the pool on a sunny day, submerging yourself completely and then just… floating.

Ethan followed her instantly, her climax triggering his own. They were holding onto each other for dear life, compounding the intensity of their sensations and silently praying for this moment to never, ever stop.

When their breathing returned back to normal a few moments later, the older doctor pushed aside strands of her hair that stuck to her face and then cupped her cheeks.

“You ok?” The tenderness in his voice almost made her heart stop.

As if she hasn’t already been dead.

“Ok? No, I’m not ok. I am pretty fucking great.”

“That you are.” He smiled wide. “You are pretty fucking great.”

“Well you are not too bad yourself. How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I died and was reborn, all at the same time.”

They laughed at each other’s choice of words, still in a tight embrace.

“Ready for the next part, Ramsey?”

“Next part?”

“Now we need to sneak out of here for real.”

* * *

* This is a reference to Dante’s poem “Inferno” from “Divine Comedy”

** coda - The final part of a play, film, or narrative in which the strands of the plot are drawn together and matters are explained or resolved

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#Ethan Ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #play choices #Ethan x noelle

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coffeestainsandcashmere · 4 years ago

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Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - Chapter Seven (nsfw)

Hopefully you’re as excited for more of this as I am to share it! It’s nsfw pretty much straight off the bat, so please make sure you’re old enough to consume that (18+).

We have some feels ahoy before the plot picks up again.

I’m envisaging maybe two or three more chapters, but it might go longer. I’ll do a full re-edit before I post it up on AO3, so you folks are technically my beta-readers! Thank you :D

___

When dawn came creeping in through the still-open curtains of Draco’s soulless bedroom, Hermione rolled over, just barely-surfaced from sleep. Naked — which was unusual for her in bed — and better rested than she could ever remember being, she sighed and yawned like a kneazel in the sun.

Her breath caught a moment later when she glanced to her left and saw the way Draco lay fast asleep on his back, his lips softly parted, white hair tousled, and with the duvet pulled halfway down to expose his gorgeous, marble torso. His left hand rested on the pillow beside his face with his fingers softly curled, and his right lay splayed on his stomach. Chest rising and falling softly, he didn’t stir as she shuffled to place her head on his shoulder, but about fifteen minutes later, while she was trailing her fingertips across the uppermost scar on his chest, he inhaled deeply and blinked awake.

With a wordless hum, he smiled, raised his right arm for her to duck beneath it, and drew her close to him. “Wasn’t sure you’d stay, Granger,” he mumbled, and oh, his voice was delicious like that — all husky and vague with sleep.

“Why ever would I leave?” she chuckled. “Comfy bed, nice apartment, great view of the city…” she looked up at him and added, “Oh, and only the most handsome man in all the world beside me…?”

To her delight, Malfoy flushed hot and looked away, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. She popped up onto one elbow, chasing after him, and kissed the slight indentation in his cheek that was almost a dimple, until he turned his head back and kissed her shyly, almost affectionately. It suddenly felt as if he were trying to fend her off with a barrage of little retaliatory kisses, and she loved it.

“You want some breakfast?” he asked when she drew back, still giggling like a teenager.

Breakfast had definitely not been the first need to which her body had drawn her attention, and a moment later, he blinked again and saw it too. Hermione sank her teeth into her lip and tried not to squirm under the new intensity kindling in his silver eyes.

“Oh,” he smiled, and this time it was a broad, sly, confident smile that made her insides twist in anticipation. “Oh I see,” he purred, and he stroked his left palm down from her shoulder to caress her bare breast, thumbing teasingly over her hardening nipple, and then he leaned over to take it between his lips. He sucked and then raked his teeth over the sensitive bud, and she yelped and bucked, falling helplessly back into the pillows amid a wild mass of curls.

For a while, Draco did little more than simply worship her all over with his touch, peppering in a few kisses and sucking a mark on her collarbone that would last for hours. Finally though, his fingertips found their way between her thighs and she parted her legs for him.

“Oh, Granger,” he whispered in reverent surprise when he discovered how wet she was. “Look at you. You’re practically dripping…”

She whimpered when he ran his fingertips through the wetness around her sex, and reared her hips up until he pressed her back down into the bed. “Shh, Granger,” he crooned. “I’ve got you.”

Then, resting his head on his right hand to create the impression of casual nonchalance, he propped himself up on one elbow and began to work her gently with the fingertips of his left hand, all the while watching her intently.

She could feel the power of his gaze on her body as she writhed and gasped, chest heaving, magic sparking along her veins in response to his touch. “God, Malfoy —” she choked when he eventually slipped two fingers inside her, only to withdraw them again a second later. “Tease…” she griped.

Draco raised his eyebrows and didn’t stop his slow, decadent, teasing rhythm. He didn’t speed up though either. “Mmm?”

She cracked an eye open and stared at him. He looked like a vision — a reclining Classical statue come alive — and were it not for the intense, watercolour flush creeping up his icy chest and neck to give him away, she might have thought him utterly indifferent, utterly unmoved by what he was doing to her. As it was, he kicked the duvet down a moment later to reveal just how interested and how hard he was, and rolled half atop her. There was a darker spot in his tight boxer-briefs that made her mouth water.

With her left thigh clamped between his, Malfoy leaned over her, pressing his lean, muscular body against hers and rolling his hips against her for a little friction. He dipped his fingers inside her again, and this time, he stayed there, buried knuckle-deep inside her. With his fingertips pressing against her inner walls, he began to pulse the pressure against her, matching it with caressing circles with the pad of his thumb against the underside of her clit. In no time at all, heat began to wash through her, over and over, building with the speed of a great wave.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” he crooned right before he bit her earlobe none too gently.

A guttural grunt left her and she arched upwards into him. One handed, he shucked his underwear down just enough to free his flushed cock. A cool bead of pre-come dripped down onto her inner thigh almost immediately and she almost sobbed at the sensation. “Please, Draco… please,” she gasped, shaking, teetering right on the edge but needing just a little more.

“Come for me then, Granger,” he said, picking up the speed of his fingers inside her just a little and brushing his thumb across her clit in a circular motion until she thought she was going to die from the intensity of it.

White hot tendrils coiled around her spine and between her legs until it all crashed over her and she arched and came with a broken cry.

Draco didn’t wait. He slid her legs further apart while she was still convulsing with pleasure, and seated himself inside her. “Oh… Fuck… Granger,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Oh fuck, you’re perfection… gods, you’re so tight, you’re —”

“Move, Malfoy,” she murmured. “Please… I want… I want you to… to… oh gods, yes, like that…”

Malfoy held nothing back. What began as a languid roll, deep and intense, rapidly gained momentum until he was sweating, and with each thrust, she clenched tighter around him as sparks still danced across her vision. He bowed his head, slamming into her, and as she hooked her knees up to let him catch her even deeper, he choked out a grunt and his hips faltered. Pressed tight against her, he spilled deep inside her with a near-silent snarl of pleasure.

When the peak of his orgasm had rolled through him, he slumped forwards onto her chest and braced his weight on his elbows. Through the crackling of her magic along her nerves, she realised that he was kissing her collarbone and shoulder, and then when his breath tickled her neck, she giggled and squirmed and he drew back with a soppy smile on his face.

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t realise that the great Hermione Granger was ticklish.”

“My biggest weakness, Malfoy,” she whispered dazedly. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Really? And I thought First Editions were your greatest weakness.”

She laughed. “Close second, perhaps.”

“Well, at least your birthday present will be an easy one,” he said, making no move to withdraw from her or to stop kissing her shoulder and what he could reach of her chest.

“I think I’ve found your weakness, Draco Malfoy,” she murmured quietly a few moments later.

“What’s that?” he asked, even as he pressed his lips to her jaw and raked his teeth over her pulse.

“Kissing.”

“Not just kissing,” he said, rolling his hips one final time before sitting up and withdrawing. “Kissing you.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that.

Draco's eyes dropped between her legs and she twitched as he ran a fingertip around her entrance. “We made a mess,” he murmured, apparently fixated by the sight of his seed slowly sliding from her onto the sheets.

“Shower?”

He nodded and she followed him from the bedroom to the en suite, tying her hair up in a bun and locking it in place with a fairly hefty charm. At the tingle of magic in the small, icy bathroom, he glanced back and his breath caught audibly.

“What?” she asked, freezing with her hands still raised at the back of her head.

Draco looked like he’d been thunderstruck for a moment and then he relaxed and laughed, stepping back over to her and taking her waist in his hands. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered fiercely, kissing her mouth and then bringing his palms up to cup both breasts, kneading them gently, rolling her nipples briefly between his thumb and finger before holding her close. “That’s what.”

Their shower took three times longer than it should have done, and Malfoy came once more, and Hermione twice, before they were drying themselves off and thinking about breakfast.

“I don’t have anything other than my dress from last night,” Hermione pouted. “And before you suggest it, I’m not wearing nothing, Malfoy. Your flat is bloody freezing.”

“You could borrow something?” he said. “I keep a few spare shirts here at least.”

With a smile, she crossed to where she’d bared his beautiful body the previous night, and picked up the crumpled white shirt from the pale carpet. “This will do for now,” she said and watched his eyes darken.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered. “What am I supposed to wear then?”

She shrugged. “One of those spare ones, I guess?”

After she’d tugged it on, she drew the collar up to her nose and inhaled. The fabric skimmed just down to her hips, and once she’d pulled her underwear on, she looked up to find that Draco had rather pointedly busied himself in the wardrobe.

“What’s for breakfast then?” she asked. “I have to be honest; it doesn’t look like anyone lives here… Do you even have any food?”

“No.” He chuckled and turned around as he slid his arms into a cornflower blue shirt that did startling things in contrast to the grey of his eyes. “I don’t come here often, it’s true. If you give me a few minutes, I’ll apparate home and grab some ingredients.”

“You’re going to make me breakfast?” she asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.

Instead of being offended, Malfoy twitched his lips into a lopsided smirk. “I have it on authority that I make the best pancakes in England, Granger.”

“Oh? And whose authority might that be?”

“Scorpius’.”

“Well then,” she said, and turned to head into the living room while he finished buttoning up his shirt. “I can think of no higher praise. I’ll help myself to a book, and await your return, if I may?”

“Make yourself at home, Granger,” he called from the bedroom. “I won’t be long.”

The air warped, and he vanished a heartbeat later.

Alone in Draco Malfoy’s flat, Hermione took a deep breath. Effervescent excitement suddenly coursed through her and she bit her lower lip. She’d had partners and a few one-night-stands since leaving Ron, but she’d honestly never had sex like that in her entire life. It wasn’t just that Malfoy clearly knew what he was doing, and had been only too happy to focus on her pleasure as much as his own — if not more so — but there was a rightness to it all that she couldn’t define. Gone was the self-centred, noxious youth he’d been at Hogwarts, and in his place stood a quiet, thoughtful, sincere man in his thirties. He’d always been pretty — even back at school — but Malfoy had truly matured into something exquisite that left her dizzy and, she realised with a jolt, happy.

Her magic felt comfortable here too, as though it had found its equal in Malfoy’s own magic, and was perfectly content in its presence. The constant vigilance of the War had long faded, but as the ex-minister for magic, she had had some run-ins and security issues before, regrettably even in the bedroom. Now, however, her magic seemed calm, restful, almost sated.

To distract herself, she meandered around his flat for a while, though she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told him it was cold. Goosebumps shivered up her legs and she cast a quick warming charm as she crossed to a bookshelf in the living room and paused to peruse the titles. To her surprise, there was a single Muggle volume among them; Great Expectations.

It fell open willingly in her hands to a page in chapter eight, and her eye was drawn down the page to a slight darkening of the paper. It was as though a fingertip had been traced over the text repeatedly. Had Malfoy thumbed through to this passage repeatedly then? Her eyes skimmed the paragraph and she inhaled softly.

Under her breath, she read it aloud, “Though she called me “boy” so often, and with a carelessness that was far from complimentary, she was about my own age. She seemed much older than I, of course, being a girl, and beautiful and self-possessed; and she was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen.”

Hermione stared at the passage and pondered its significance to Draco.

The soft shimmer of the air in the living room behind her made her jump and she whirled around to find Malfoy standing there with a small cardboard box in his hands. “Ah,” he said when his eyes took in the book she held. “An old friend.”

Hermione goggled openly at him, the open book held loosely in her fingers. “You’ve read Great Expectations?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, turning away and moving into the large kitchen. “Many times.”

“But… why?” she blurted artlessly as she closed it with a snap and slid it back onto the shelf. “I mean, Dickens is a Muggle author. You didn’t even know who Emile Brontë was at Theo’s!”

“Oddly enough,” he said from the kitchen with evident sarcasm, “I find a lot that’s relatable in Estella as well as Pip. And I found that copy in the library at the Manor. I believe it belonged to my mother.”

“Well,” she exclaimed from the doorway in a dry, playful tone. “Though I find myself compelled to point out that Estella’s behaviour isn’t exactly her fault. Pip himself says she was raised by Miss Havisham to hate men.”

“True,” Malfoy said, shooting her a pointed look over his shoulder before he stooped to fish out a frying pan from a low cupboard.

Ah. The knut dropped and she admitted, “Ok, yes — I can see how being raised to hate an entire group of people just because your parental figure told you to might have a certain resonance for you…”

Malfoy’s lips twitched in wry confirmation.

“Have you ever seen the 1946 film?”

Malfoy paused at that and then frowned. “No.”

“Next time, we go back to mine. I’ve got it on DVD. It’s a classic.”

“If you say so,” he said, looking a little anxious — probably due to the mention of unfamiliar Muggle technology, she reasoned — but there was a curious light to his silver eyes too.

“Unless, of course,” she said carefully as she came over and peered into the box without looking at him, “You hadn’t intended for there to be a ‘next time’…”

Already pale, Malfoy somehow managed to go a shade lighter — or perhaps greyer — and he swallowed thickly when she glanced sidelong at him. “I… I had hoped…”

Guilt shot through her chest and she smiled. “Good. So had I. Now, what can I do to help with breakfast?”

Malfoy closed his eyes and drew in a long breath through his nose, as if steadying himself.

Instantly, she rounded the corner of the kitchen island where he’d plonked the box down, and brought her hand gently to his hip. “Draco?”

“Mmm?”

He looked down askance at her through his white-blond eyelashes. Evident relief mingled with the last remnants of his uncertainty, and she thought vaguely that it was like being stared down at by some kind of mythical creature. Wary and defensive, he observed her hopefully, and her heart cracked a little.

“I’m serious about this,” she said and laid a hand flat on his chest. “I never would have expected it, given… everything, but… this feels right, Malfoy.”

He shifted his attention from the box of ingredients and turned to face her, bringing both his hands up to frame her face before sweeping them back over her wild hair. Wordlessly, he stooped and kissed her.

When they drew back, his eyes were bright, pupils huge and dark, and he was smiling again. “You can make tea then, Granger,” he said in a rough voice. “Top cupboard to the left of the sink.”

He watched her walk away from him, eyes lingering on the hem of his shirt where it skimmed her thighs. He obviously enjoyed the sight of her wearing nothing but her underwear and his rumpled clothes from the night before, but then, to her slight surprise, Malfoy collected himself and proceeded to make pancakes from scratch, and the only magic he used was to heat the pan.

Leaning on one elbow, seated on a bar stool beside him at the kitchen island, with maple syrup, lemon juice and sugar, and a stack of thin, delicious pancakes between them, Hermione let her fork dangle between her fingers and looked up at him. He hadn’t touched the maple syrup, but he had made significant inroads into the stash of lemon juice and sugar.

“So…?” Hermione said carefully. “Are you going to tell Scorpius about us?”

His jaw clenched momentarily at that, and he sighed. “I should,” he said. “I don’t want him hearing it from a tabloid or another student. He should know that his father is seeing someone, but…” He broke off with a little wince that had nothing to do with the sharp lemon.

“You’re worried about how he’s going to take the news?”

Malfoy nodded. For a while he didn’t speak, but she could see words brewing and left him to figure it out. Eventually he croaked, “For eleven years, it’s just been us two and the house-elves, and my mother. I… He’s had so much change with starting Hogwarts… I’m afraid he’s going to think I’ve abandoned him or something.”

Hermione’s vision swam as tears swelled in her eyes. “Oh Draco,” she breathed, spine slackening in sympathy for him.

He offered her a tight-lipped, slightly watery smile, and said, “He’s everything to me, Hermione.”

“I know,” she said. “I know. I don’t want to come between you and your little mandrake…”

Draco snorted. “If you ever call him that to his face, he’ll probably sneak a flobberworm into your dinner…”

“Let him try,” she laughed. “Seriously though, Draco, take your time. I obviously want to meet him properly, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure, alright?”

Draco reached across the table and took her other hand in his. Again, she noted the nicks and scars on his fingers and the slight spatter of stains that Snape had after years of being potions master. She didn't bring it up, but she wondered all the same.

“Thank you,” he rasped. “I…” he took a huge inhale, held it for a moment, and then released it. His shoulders slumped and he bowed his head a little without letting go of her. “I really want this… this thing between us… to work, Granger.” Looking vaguely nauseous though, he added, “But… I’m terrified of fucking up.”

Sliding off the stool, she abandoned the remnants of her breakfast and came to stand behind him. Resting her cheek on his back she snaked her arms around his middle where he still sat on his stool, squeezed him gently, and to her relief he laughed softly.

“Just be honest with me, Malfoy. Whatever it is, promise you’ll always be honest with me, and you won’t fuck up.”

He nodded. “I promise.”

Chapter Eight

___

To be continued! Don’t forget to let me know what you think, and help a relative newbie (at least to contributing anyway) to the fandom out by reblogging!

writing masterlist | Ao3

#dramione #dramione story #dramione fic #draco malfoy x hermione granger #draco x hermione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #older dramione #let no man steal your thyme

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for-the-ninth · 3 years ago

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Happy Wednesday! I'm posting this good and early (like Tuesday night early lmao), and I'll be tagging folks below the cut. I'm working on chapter 7 of my longfic (the first chapters of which you can find here) and it's here that Cullen has to face the consequences of the harm he caused in Kirkwall. The following is a letter written to him by a survivor of the Kirkwall Annulment, and I'm putting it below the cut (though some of you may have seen a snippet before) in case you don't wish to have it spoiled before reading the chapters that lead up to it. Enjoy the angst!

When the Inquisitor asked how I’d like to deliver my testimony, I first thought to see you in person. But then I remembered your face—the cold, hard glare you shot through me each time we passed one another in the Circle.

“Mages aren’t people, like you and me.” Mages are not people, you said, with a voice like knives pressed against my tender skin.

I remembered the way you walked the halls as if looking for a reason to draw your blade, and I decided I would not give you the opportunity to draw on me now.

I want you to know that I was terrified of you. I want you to know that my hands shook and my jaw hardened every time you so much as breathed in my vicinity. They say Meredith ruled with an iron fist, but they forget that you were her arm.

Every year in that goddamned tower I got skinnier, more frail and less capable. I lowered my voice—made myself small, because I saw what the templars did when one of us got too loud. As a girl, I was boisterous, even cocky. But after coming to the Circle, I quickly learned to lock away any part of me that could be perceived as a threat—as if it took anything more than my mere existence.

By the time I reached my Harrowing, I felt no fear. That demon looked me in the eyes, and all I could feel was exhaustion. For a moment, I wondered if it’d be easier to let it consume me. Perhaps the demon deserved its freedom if I couldn’t have mine. Orsino congratulated me upon my return and I smiled politely; said thank you as if it were normal for a child to thank a room full of sneering men for submitting her to such a threat.

The years after that are a blur. I’d heard rumors in the courtyard, and I saw what happened to mages who were accused of being involved with the Underground. I remember the number of Tranquil growing quickly, and seeing mages who’d already passed their Harrowings suddenly devoid of emotion and ability. I remember the look of fear in my friends’ eyes as they wondered when they’d be next. And still, I felt nothing.

But the day I watched my lover fall at the end of a templar’s sword, I felt everything. Ten years worth of longing, resentment and rage I channeled into the palms of my bare hands. I scoured the halls that day, searching every room for survivors and killing anyone who stood in my way. I’d finally become the monster you’d always thought I was—the monster you made me.

We escaped and fled Kirkwall, and as the rebellion broke out of the Circles and spilled into the streets, I fought alongside my comrades. And every time I watched the life drain from the eyes of a templar, I thought of Marena, choking on her own blood as she used her last breath to remind me I was loved.

I said I wouldn’t meet you in person because I am afraid. But in truth, it is you who should be frightened. For I could kill you where you stand, and feel absolutely nothing.

@cleverblackcat @oxygenforthewicked @charmcity-jess @noire-pandora @a11sha11fade (ignore me until tomorrow if you want; I know it's early as shit lmao)

#cullen rutherford #kirkwall annulment #wip wednesday #dragon age inquisition #da2 #fanfiction #my writing

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elizabeatrice · 5 years ago

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Episode 12 - The Little Mermaid

Let’s Talk About JSHK Anime #3

Warning: Manga spoilers for The Little Mermaid arc, The Clock Keeper arc, and chapter 64!!! (just a bit, skip point no. 5, 6, and 10 if you don’t want to get spoiled) Also … this ended up way longer than I intended.

Well that was one heck of a feels trip. It’s probably my new favorite episode, just because everyone is here being wholesome lmao.

This is mostly hananene meta I ain’t even gonna lie.

Before we begin, shout out to Black Canyon, our newest anime cutie pie. Just look at him, folks. Just chilling with his sunflower seed.

He has no idea the kind of life his owner leads.

I said before that the best part of episode 12 is how it made Daydream worse, so now I’m gonna ramble about it.

“Maybe different species can’t understand each other after all.”

“Maybe it would be better if I were an apparition too.”

This is my favorite part of the episode. And no, not in the sense that I want Nene to die just so that she and Hanako can be together. But because of how Lerche actually explored deeper what was said only once in the manga.

Well, both in the manga and anime Nene ended up accepting the mermaid’s blood because of her desire to be popular, but the anime decided to revisit what she said earlier in the episode.

Not only did that make her decision kinda less selfish, it’s also just … sad. Thinking that your friend, someone you really cared about, doesn’t trust you enough to tell you things about themselves, to the point where you’re willing to go to such lengths as turning into an apparition just to understand them.

And if you think about it, isn’t this part of her true wish? To have her feelings be reciprocated? Man I just realized that as I wrote this and I am mindblown.

She thought she finally got her wish with Hanako. I mean, he said it himself in the first ep (”You wanted someone, anyone, to return your feelings, right? And as far as you’re concerned, sharing a bond with someone is the same thing, right?”). So it must’ve hit her really hard when she thought he didn’t trust her. Especially with all the wrong ideas the fishes were feeding her mind.

Then we got this little flashback. At first I was like, “Girl, you really be thinking that he doesn’t care about you while recalling the moment he apologized to you and hugged you? Are you insane?”

But after some thinking of my own, it occurred to me. Maybe she was too used to having her feelings not reciprocated, she couldn’t believe it when someone finally did. Not to mention Hanako did kinda trick her with his fake confession a while back (heh, he’s not the only one with trust issues, eh?). And that just made the entire thing even sadder.

So when Nene said, “But I thought, if I were an apparition like you, I could get closer to you. Then, maybe I’d be able to understand you, Hanako-kun. Although I know I probably don’t mean anything to you.”

That was a harsh wake up call for Hanako.

(Btw even more full circle, Hanako brought up Nene’s wish to become human again in the first episode. Nice.)

So. We got one daikon girl who’s afraid of not having her feelings reciprocated, and one ghost boy who’s afraid that daikon girl wouldn’t be his friend anymore if she knew about his past.

While in actuality, said daikon girl already decided she wanted to and would be his friend no matter what, and ghost boy had grown to care about her more than he thought he would.

He heard what she said to Tsuchigomori. He knew all about regret, too. I mean, honestly, I think if she had said no, he’d let her walk away right then and there, no questions asked. But she didn’t.

Nene’s wish finally came true here. And the best part? It wasn’t the work of magic or curses. Just Hanako finally shoving his fear aside, offering himself as he was, and letting her decide.

And she still chose to be with him.

Heh. Lemme just. Sob for a bit.

Is my hananene trash brain reading too much into this? Idk. Maybe.

So props to the production team for managing to add even more weight to this arc. Which, they had to, since it’s the season finale and all. But I love what they did!

Onto my commentaries!

1. The KouNene

Good shit. She was worried about him but he didn’t want her to worry so he just smiled it off? These two are precious. Thought they were gonna interact. Sadly not. Buuuut! (see point 12)

2. Hanako’s classroom visit

He. Is. So. Adorable. Someone please take his babey license away he’s too dangerous.

Hanako’s classroom visit is like my absolute favorite clingy Hanako moment, so I’m really happy I get to see it this season. Ugh. My kokoro. Hugging her from behind, that semi confession vibe … Smooth mf.

The Mokke brushing Nene’s hair!!! The radish hairdo tho lmao.

On a sidenote, as a history nerd I appreciate that they’re actually putting lessons in the background. And the teacher talked about Apollo 11 again??? While my boy was in the room? That ish both hurt and pleased me.

3. The Clock Keeper rumor drop

Heeeeeehhhhh? What’s thiiiiiissss?

4. This freaking thing

*flips table* Darn production team been knew I’m hananene trash how dare they do this to me.

And lookie here there’s Kodama chilling.

5. Fishies! (!!!manga spoiler for The Little Mermaid arc!!!)

Pufferfish didn’t die. Well, good for him. Also I can’t believe they just call the other fish ‘yeah yeah’ lmao what the freak. Has it always been like that in the manga?

6. AOI AND AKANE (!!!spoilers for chapter 64!!!)

I swear I did not intend this numbering coincidence.

*claps* Boi. Nene asking Aoi about cutting ties with someone she’s interested in? And then Akane just swooped in and say he’d rather cut his head off than cut ties with Aoi? What about getting impaled, huh, boy? Would that do?

The not-so-subtle call out to these two pairs’ parallel? BOI.

7. Nene and Yako

These two just chilling together having girl talk, and Yako let Nene pet her? That’s some adorable shit right there. Admit it Yako you like her.

Yako also be really hitting home with what she said. It was extra heavy coming from her, considering what happened to her and Misaki. Boiiiiii.

8. Tsuchigomori

Oh my God, his laughter. Just … oh my God.

Tsuchigomori in dad mode is always one of the highlights of the episode/chapter.

By the way, in this scene according to the sub, Nene asked Tsuchigomori who Tsukasa is. But she knew who he is already. Is it possible that the sub misinterpreted it? ‘Cause I think what she actually meant was, “What happened to him and Tsukasa-kun in the past?”

If someone who speaks Japanese could share their wisdom, please do!

9. The 5 pm bell and twilight

Look how pretty they are!!!

Lo and behold, another important hananene interaction while the 5 pm bell plays in the background. Also, twilight? Y’all giving me Kimi no Na wa flashbacks.

“Twilight, when it’s neither day or night. When the world blurs and one might encounter something not human.”

Huh … kinda fits the ‘boundary’ concept but it still hurt.

Anyway they still had Hanako tell her what she already knew. And I did say in my ‘Walking Blind’ post that it’d be redundant. But since the episode kinda emphasized Nene’s desire to understand Hanako, having him actually tell her himself, even though she already knew it, was a big deal. It’s not about what she knows, it’s about him opening up to her. So I’m super cool with it.

10. The Broadcasting Club (!!!spoilers for The Clock Keeper arc!!!)

I love how Natsuhiko and Sakura are actually decent people. When he told Mitsuba that he was free to choose to stay with them or not? That’s solid, man. Though, of course, Tsukasa might not be as kind.

Speaking of, I know it couldn’t be anything else, but I’m still not sure if Tsukasa’s drawing was confirmation for season 2. Don’t wanna get my hopes up. Imma just enjoy what I currently have.

Kinda curious, though. Because Clock Keeper wasn’t Tsukasa’s doing. Maybe he was the one who released Mirai? But tbh I’d prefer if it wasn’t so. Because having more cases of supernaturals going loco without it being one of Tsukasa’s games is interesting, and kinda underlines the need of The Seven Wonders to keep supernaturals in check.

11. Kodama just chilling

12. The Adventures of Minamoto and the Summer Vegetables

You go, Kou! I’m rooting for you oh my God you’re so precious.

And look at that ikemen smile! Him supporting Kou is just top notch sweet y’all I can’t-

Ngl this was the biggest surprise of the episode. Teru finding out that summer vegetables = Nene? Broooooo. Interesting. I don’t think this little addition warrants any changes to their future interaction, so it should be safe. Clever replacement, too, those veggies.

It’s so sweet that Nene delivered those veggies to Kou! Just imagine the Minamoto family having veggies for dinner. Awww.

(Also, Nene wrote her name in hiragana instead of kanji. Is that a reference to how bad Kou is with kanji? Lol, so sweet)

13. The Coda!!!

Look at him. Just look at him. Look how lovesick he is y’all I can’t-

THEY’RE SO ADORABLE.

All in all, I love this episode. Sorry for how long this post is. I’m just dealing with so many feels right now. Gaaahhhhh.

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #hanako #minamoto kou #yashiro nene #akane aoi #aoi akane #yako #tsuchigomori #mitsuba sousuke #hyuuga natsuhiko #nanamine sakura #yugi tsukasa #kodama #minamoto teru #let's talk about jshk anime #bea rambles #hananene

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pinkhairedlily · 4 years ago

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Great Expectations

Chapter 4 of The Spring He Came Back | 4 of 12

Hinamori found herself spacing out in the middle of chores for about a month now. She would be cooking miso soup, and her mind would trail to their conversation on the hill. She would halt in front of the daffodil meadow on the way back from the market and reminisce in the midst of stalks yet to flower, counting down to the third month. She also stopped going to the library because of a growing resentment. If she didn’t bring Hitsugaya there, he wouldn’t have found the book, and he wouldn’t have left. She wondered if she had the right to feel this way, to feel like she lost a friend or a family.

The money from Hitsugaya’s generous allowance came in every end of the month through an academy representative. Baba’s refusals fell on deaf ears, but Hinamori knew she was grateful for the financial support.

True to his promise, Hitsugaya sneaked out of the academy on his third month and met Hinamori on the meadow. He saw her black tendrils flowing with the yellow petals. “Oy, Hinamori.” For a time, it would seem that the gears were running in normal shifts.

This went on for the next three years. Hinamori was given glimpses of his newfound life – of an increasing circle of friends that consisted of a noisy Rangiku, stubborn Rukia, and glutton on steroids Renji. For every encounter, their childhood memories and laidback banter on the yellow field were being replaced by tales of his experiments and model construction with Dr. Kuchiki, the culture shock to the life of the brightest, and the cutthroat competition in academia. For every encounter, he seemed more and more different, but he never let these get the best of him. After all, his silver hair was still shaped like a broomstick, and he still challenged her to watermelon eating contests.

Their meetings stopped when he had to participate in an overseas internship in Karakura. Monthly letters replaced his physical presence until there were none. Exasperated because of her growing loneliness, Baba assured her it was the natural course of things.

“As we grow older Momo, we form a lot of bonds. Some becomes the foundation of our nature and identity while others are circles at certain phases of our lives.” Baba gave her a cup of black tea with a dash of honey, her favorite brew. “There comes a point we grow out of those circles and seek the next set of bonds. The rarest of all, those bonds that accompany you forever.”

“I thought we were his family, Baba.” There was a burning feeling behind Hinamori’s eyes, and she felt a headache forming.

Baba stared at her wistfully and tucked a loose tendril behind her grandchild’s ear. “If you’re so adamant to keep those bonds, why won’t you walk beside him?”

Hinamori shook her head vehemently and slapped her palms on the table. “Baba! I will never leave you. Please stop saying that!” Some of her black tea spilled. “Besides, the academy is invitation-only, remember?”

“Momo my dearest and only, I’m almost 70. I’ve lived a good, full life so far, and I want you to live like that as well. I don’t want you shackled by your past or be burdened by taking care of me. The world is bigger than this town,” Baba chuckled to herself as she took a sip of her tea. “Besides, I have reliable neighbors who will take care of me. We have a telephone now so we can always communicate. Wondrous technology. Oh but you have to teach me.”

“Baba, stop it. The academy is not accepting low-tier students like me.”

“Oh Momo. Just throw it out there and the world will right itself.”

Baba’s wisdom never failed. When Hinamori became 15 years old, the academy opened its gates to the common folk. The complaints about accessibility and inequality probably got to the administration. Investments in the town kept pouring in, demand for residential space was increasing, the clamor to enter the academy regardless of social status eventually gained traction. While the invitation and referral arrangements still existed, the opportunities leveled through general admissions. Well, not quite. The examinations were grueling, and the interviews were tricky to answer. They asked outright for research proposals and the field of specialization one was interested in. On top of her head, Hinamori stated her concentration on terrestrial ecology. Actually, she just wanted to create perennial daffodils so their meadow would be yellow all year round, no matter the season.

Hinamori passed the screening. General admission passers were granted wider freedom but lesser privilege. They were not restricted to stay in the dorms and had normal class schedules that didn’t involve laboratory and experiments on weekends. On the downside, they were provided lesser amount of allowance (good for family of three) which Hinamori was still thankful for. They weren’t also allowed to venture into the buildings of the core members. From her initial grant, she bought a bicycle to make her trips faster and quicker across opposite end of the town. It was an unstable feeling, landing on shifting grounds, but soon enough, she found her balance.

I’m in. I’m inside the academy’s gates. It was an exhilarating feeling of great expectations and humble beginnings.

Only 100 students were admitted in the winter. Amid the flurry of post-inauguration activities, Hinamori saw the familiar silver hair sticking out like sore thumb in the middle of the crowd.

He’s not supposed to be here. He was accompanied by three people trailing behind at a safe distance. She presumed they were the three Rs – Rangiku, Rukia, Renji. On Hitsugaya’s arms was a bouquet. “Oy, Momo.”

Her cheeks were flushed red. She wished she wore her hair loose instead of a bun because it had started to snow. “Broomstick Shirou-chan.” Was he taller when she last saw him? Silly, he was gone for two years.

“I just got back from my internship in time for your inauguration.” He handed her the bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, fully blooming in winter. “Congratulations.”

“Oh, I’m still taller than you,” Hinamori blurted out. “Oops. It was supposed to be a personal observation.”

“You know what, give me back the bouquet.”

“But it’s true! You probably still have the same height!”

“Momo, give me the bouquet back.”

“Won’t.” They both laughed it off, unaware of stealing glances from his company.

“Oooh is she the one you’re always writing letters to, Hitsugaya?” the blond-haired girl asked. “How sweet! Childhood sweethearts!”

“Shut up, Rangiku!”

“Oh no, we’re truly not-“ Hinamori started, but she was immediately cut off.

“Childhood sweethearts?!” the red-haired one yelled. “You mean to tell me this was fate? Wow, I’m so jealous.”

“I’m literally right here, Abarai.” The black-haired kid who was almost the same height as Hitsugaya was probably the least intense of the group. “I’m Kuchiki Rukia, by the way.”

Well, her surname certainly is, Hinamori thought. “I’m Hinamori Momo, Shirou-chan’s childhood friend.”

“Shirou-chan?!” They collectively egged him on, laughing at his clear embarrassment.

“Momo, stop using that nickname!”

Hinamori inhaled the clear scent of pine and camphor trees, reminding her of Baba cozy with her stacked fireplace and of stored jams in their pantry. She can’t wait to tell her Hitsugaya’s back. With the mended symbol of their bond on the crook of her arm, she entered the new phase of her life. Shifting grounds and great expectations.

-------

“Please greet Dr. Sousuke Aizen. He’s one of the foremost molecular biologists outside of Soul, and we are privileged to have him teach here. He will be your professor for biology. Keep in mind that you are arranged by your specialization, and he will be your mentor until you graduate in the academy,” Dr. Unohana, the academy director, announced to a class of fifteen.

Hinamori already outlined ten distinct thesis proposals in her first week. She made headstart on her readings too, already halfway on their given references for the year. If she was going to reunite fully with her friend, she needed to be a core member, and she will work hard for it.

Then, the name finally registered in her mind. Sousuke Aizen. The author of the most recent book she borrowed from the library which was also her inspiration for her thesis topics. She was engrossed with his theories, his writing style, and argumentations that she borrowed all his related books. If she was a radiologist, he was her Marie Curie. Sousuke Aizen was her teacher.

He had a magnetic presence, demanding all eyes on him. It was difficult not to notice him with his broad figure and soft tussle of dark brown hair. If eyes could smile, then he had those, albeit hidden behind square-shaped spectacles. His authoritative stance and the emanating kind disposition were confusing and difficult to compromise.

What an interesting person. Hinamori thought herself perceptive of people’s personalities based on her first impressions with them. That wasn’t successful with Hitsugaya though.

“So, should we start, or would you like me to immediately dismiss?”

It also perked up her interest that he was comfortable enough to teach without a lesson plan in hand or books. He would just talk conversationally with his students and still cover a multitude of topics. He wasn’t the stiff professor that Dr. Kuchiki was. Her classmates would seek him out after classes, asking him to join their group dinners. When she attended once, he noticed she wasn’t talking.

“Hinamori, are you still uncomfortable with your new learning setting?” Dr. Aizen asked. He gestured to refill her now empty teacup, and she obliged him with a nod. “I’ve heard you mostly got your knowledge from reading. Impressive.”

She blushed at the compliment. “I try to do my best, Dr. Aizen.”

He placed his cheek on his hand and stared at her. “You know, I also came from a rural area. Made it hard for me to mingle with the central town brats.”

Brats. She laughed at this sudden connection. “I’m also trying on that area, Sir. I made friends, but they’re on the other side of building.” Was it safe to share that?

“Oh, you have friends from the core Soul group? Fascinating. That means you’re really interesting Hinamori.” He smiled at her, tapping the empty tea pot. “You can talk to me anytime. My office is open for any concerns, academic or otherwise. I want you to know I can be on your friend list.”

The fact that he related to her situation made her happy. A renowned professor with the same roots as her still managed to get to the top. She felt seen. By the end of the semester, Hinamori volunteered to be his research assistant.

NEXT CHAPTER | 5 OF 12 | WANTING VALIDATIONS

#hitsuhina #hitsugaya toshiro #hinamori momo #hitsugaya #hinamori #momo #bleach #bleach couples #fanfiction #anime fanfiction #TSHCB #aizen

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sternbagel · 4 years ago

Text

Inspired by the wonderful OC lore that @charlotte-balfours-garden wrote and posted, I decided to finish this piece that’s been sitting in my drafts for months about my own RDR OC, visual references here!

Note: This takes place in canon, Chapter 3, and while everyone calls her Alberta Taylor at this point, it’s not her real name, just something she’s been going by for years because of something in her past. Professionally, she’s a bounty hunter, but has dabbled in other things.

Read This First

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, at least the one thing today that hasn’t been surprising is Arthur finding Al has dragged a chair over to his tent to read, one leg propped up on the chest at the end of his cot. Sometimes she’ll set up there to get ample shade from the sun, and according to her, the chest is the perfect foot rest height.

“Afternoon, Arthur,” she greets lazily as she turns the page.

“Miss Taylor. Comfortable?”

“Sure.” She cuts her eyes up at him from under the brim of her hat, seemingly just to give him a greeting glance and smile, but when she spots the shiny new accessory pinned to his vest, her head raises higher. “You steal that off a dead lawman or somethin’?”

And it begins, Arthur thinks with a snort. “No, Dutch—” he waves an arm in the direction he came from, though Dutch has long ago left that area—“got us ingratiated with the local sheriff, so now we’re honorary deputies.”

“Was Sheriff Gray drunk?”

That’s surprising. They only met the sheriff yesterday, and he’s not sure the full story of their encounter has been relayed to the rest of camp, just the orders not to cause any trouble. “How’d you know his name?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that most likely, it was Hosea. Those two are close.

She answers with a cavalier shrug before he can say anything. “I’ve been here before. Once. Didn’t stay long.”

Arthur takes the bait she leaves out. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s Lemoyne. I don’t spend very long here if I can help it. But first time I got to Rhodes lookin’ for bounty posters, Sheriff Gray was puking in the bushes. Somehow he managed to get out that they do all the bounty hunting themselves. No reason to go back.”

“Well, that’s pretty much how I found him when I went lookin’ for Dutch and Bill.”

“Figures,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Not that I really care, but where is Bill? Didn’t see him come back with y’all. Still with the Sheriff, ingratiating himself?” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “I didn’t get that impression off him, but I wasn—”

Arthur holds up a hand and shakes his own head with a smirk. “No, no, the Grays around here don’t seem… his type. Matter of fact, I should probably warn Bill to just play it cool—“

“What, drunk, dumb, and ignorant ain’t Bill’s type? What about that guy we saw him chattin’ up at that saloon in Armadillo?”

“That ain’t what I mean,” he snorts.

“I know.” Al flashes a playful smirk. “I’m just messin’.”

“Well, anyway, no, he’s off hidin’ some wagon full o’ moonshine we stole off some bootleggers under the Sheriff’s orders. Hosea’ll know what to do with it.”

“Moonshine?” This seems to pique her interest, again to Arthur’s surprise. “You know who you stole it off of?”

“Yes…” Arthur’s eyebrows knit together. He slowly lumbers over to his table, laying down the deputy badge and watching her carefully. Al’s expression is calm, but it’s a thin enough veneer that he sees the curiosity building by the second. “What’s it to you?”

“Curious.”

“Yeah.”

The book in her lap finally closes. “I used to run with some moonshiners not too long ago.”

“Alberta Taylor. Well, I never took you for a bootlegger.”

She throws an arm over the back of her chair and lets her head fall back, exposing more of her neck. It’s then that Arthur notices she’s not wearing her usual green neckerchief. Or her green jacket. She must be really burning up to be in just her workshirt and jeans. “Not every professional bounty hunter is a staunch upholder of the law, Arthur Morgan,” she says matter-of-factly with a lift of her brow.

“I never said that. Didn’t mean it neither. I mean, look who you fell in with, I know better. I just ain’t seen you drink much moonshine.”

“Sure. Always been more of a beer and tequila woman.”

He plops down on his cot and lights a cigarette. “Then what you doin’ runnin’ with moonshiners?”

“Tell me who you stole the liquor off of first, cowboy.”

Arthur concedes. Al is stubborn. “The Braithwaites. And those fellers that run around here with those yellow bandanas. Sadie and I ran into ‘em a few days ago. Uh—”

“Lemoyne Raiders?” She sneers. “I’d hoped someone had snuffed ‘em out by now. Hijo de putas.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette before answering. “Yeah, that’s them. You’ve had some run-ins with ‘em, huh?”

“Like I said, just the once. Three of them stopped me on my way into Rhodes. Brought ‘em into town, dead, which is when I met Sheriff Gray. They didn’t have any bounties on ‘em, so all I got outta one of his deputies was five dollars. I know they weren’t even worth that much, but he coulda paid me more,” she grumbles. Her light Cuban accent comes out more the lower her voice goes.

“Sounds about right. Least ya got paid somethin’.”

“I guess.” She picks at the spine of her book for a moment. “Wasn’t long after that I met a… moonshiner legend, so to say, through a mutual friend. Though friend seems to be pushing it.”

He gets the sense she’s not fully sour on the “friend,” so his shoulders shake in amusement.

“He was a lot like Uncle, actually.”

“Lord.” Arthur snickers, smoke billowing out of his mouth.

“Yeah. Not as lazy. Probably younger, but who knows.”

“I reckon Uncle ain’t as old as he wants folks to think. Besides just bein’ too lazy, it’s probably why he don’t trim his beard.”

Al laughs, rougher than usual until she coughs and clears it up. “Damn humidity.”

“Tell me about it,” Arthur agrees, leaning forward and propping one elbow up on his knee. “So, this… moonshiner legend.”

“Ever heard the name Maggie Fike?”

The name isn’t familiar, but it isn’t unfamiliar either. “Don’t think so,” he settles on.

“Well, she’s been mostly out this way rather than out where y’all been running around. Revenue Agents caught up to her a couple years back, tried burning her alive. Didn’t work, but gave her a nasty scar and bad eye. Almost puts Marston to shame. Almost,” she adds with a grin as he walks between Arthur and Strauss’ tents.

“Take a look in the mirror, Miss Taylor,” he grumbles back. Then he chucks a cigarette butt at a chuckling Arthur. “You too, Morgan.”

John disappears around the side of the tent as Arthur brushes off the butt. “Cranky cause he ain’t had his midday nap.”

“Pick better material.”

Al chuckles and presses the palm of her hand on her hat, affixing it more securely to her head. “Anyway…”

“Anyway…” Arthur sighs lightly. “You said she survived?”

“Yeah, went into hiding for a while. Somehow got a hold of my ‘friend’, who then asked me for help gettin’ her business back on its feet. Easy work at first. Finding a good location for the shack, gettin’ her some supplies, that stuff.” She waves a hand around. “Most folks don’t pay much mind to a bounty hunter buyin’ supplies in bulk like I was or destroying illegal stills. Sometimes I brought in the other moonshiners to the local town to collect on a bounty. Made for a better cover for what I was really doing.”

“Takin’ out the competition.” Arthur chuckles.

“Exactly. Then came—”

“What the hell are you two talkin’ about anyway?”

Al puts her hand back on her hat before tipping her head back, almost touching the back of the chair, and looks at John, upside down. Arthur leans forward more to get his own look and the rangy outlaw, who’s circled back around to the other side of his wagon.

“And what the hell is that?” John asks. He’s looking directly at the badge on Arthur’s table, disgust etched into his features. As if it’s some rotting, maggot infested carcass Arthur’s using for decoration.

Arthur sighs and briefly explains again.

“So this is just another excuse for you to play dress-up, eh? Guess I need to tell Hosea you’re itchin’ to go scammin’ with him again.”

“You do that, it’ll be your pecker in the stew pot next meal.”

Al’s crossed her arms over her chest and is watching them with barely contained amusement. “Playing dress-up? I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you yet, Arthur.”

“And you won’t,” he growls. “Only reason Hosea takes me on those jobs is because he knows I hate it. Just once I’d like him to take Marston instead.”

“You sure about that?” Al studies John as if she’s a talent agent in the big city. “Doesn’t he like to avoid mayhem on those jobs?”

John snorts indignantly. “Yeah, well, I’d like to see you try and follow Hosea’s lead. I swear even he don’t know what he’s doin’ half the time.”

“But it works.” Her eyebrows raise pointedly.

“But it works,” John concedes.

“Well, next time you go, let me know. I’d love to watch y’all work.”

“Whatever,” John grumbles as he waves her off and saunters away. Apparently he’s given up on butting into their conversation.

“I ain’t pullin’ that type of job with Hosea again. What we had set up in Blackwater, sure, but not...” Arthur wags a finger in the air, then unfurls the rest of his fingers and waves his hand once before letting it fall back in his lap. “Not that. The girls and Trelawny are much better’n me anyway. Safer that way.”

Al shrugs. “I won’t argue that.”

“So, back to what you was sayin’?” Arthur’s not willing to let the moonshiner story drop. It’s not often she lets down her walls and tells stories of her past that don’t directly involve some bounty she’s nabbed. He knows what happened to her family, but that had been a moment he wasn’t meant to see, and neither of them have ever brought it up again.

“So after we get a shack set up, she gets word of where this old buddy of hers is, go rescue him so he can make our moonshine. Not long after that, her nephew’s gettin’ moved from Sisika, so I go rescue him.”

Arthur pulls the cigarette from his lips and folds his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wagon. “Just you against a bunch of lawmen?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Morgan,” she drawls, lolling her head to the side.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be,” he chuckles.

“No, actually, I had a couple friends with me, cashed in on some favors. I’m not stupid or reckless enough to take on an armed prison transport.”

Arthur just shrugs. “Woulda believed you either way.”

“You’re too trusting,” she remarks. There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, but her eyes sparkle with something else.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Well, we bring them back to the shack, get the business up and running. Enact some revenge on a rival of hers in the meantime, I get to kill the agent who tried to burn her. Spent about a year with them. I didn’t do a lot of the actual running of moonshine, one of those friends who helped me break out Maggie’s nephew, Lem, did most of that. I focused on taking out the competition, clearing out Revenue Agent roadblocks when we were sure we couldn’t sneak past them. The real dirty work. But I didn’t mind, kept me moving, out of the government’s crosshairs enough that I could keep killin’ those damn agents.”

Arthur cocks his head curiously. But she isn’t done talking, so he lets her continue, holding onto his question for now.

“Couple months before I ran into y’all, I told them I’d have to leave. I’d spent so much time in this area, couldn’t… Needed to get out and go back out west. See some old friends, see some open country. They reckoned they’d be fine without me, but threw them the name of another friend I knew’d be able to help them, pick up my slack.”

“So… you think they’re still runnin’ that shine?”

“No reason not to. Never heard anything about her being captured. Got a letter from them while I was in Blackwater, actually. They’re doin’ well.” She gives a fond, reminiscent smile. “That friend is working with Maggie now, too. Dunno how she stands him, but…”

“Good. Since we’re over this way, you plannin’ on seein’ ‘em?”

“They’re north, Roanoke Ridge territory. Might, if I feel safe leavin’ you fools by yourself for more than a week.”

Arthur chuckles and shakes his head. “I reckon we can survive without ya for that long.”

“With all the trouble you been causing lately? I don’t think so, Mr. Morgan.” Al fans herself with her book, smirking at Arthur pointedly.

“I actually got another question for ya,” he diverts.

“Shoot.”

“I been thinkin’ about this since you got here, but now, knowin’ how much you seem to hate the Revenue Agents, how come you’re a bounty hunter, takin’ payouts from the government, but runnin’ with a bunch’a outlaws? After a year of runnin’ shine, that is.”

A simple shrug is her reply, and the pause is so long Arthur isn’t sure she’ll actually give him an explanation, until, “You have your code, I have mine.”

“Huh,” he grunts. They watch each other casually for a long moment, then he asks, “You gonna explain?”

He can see her weigh her options, and eventually she relents. “You know…” Her expression immediately tells him what she means: her past, what happened to her.

“Yeah,” he offers quietly.

“Well, nobody’s born a seasoned gunslinger. When I first started bounty hunting, I had to take the easier targets. Most big pay days, or the jobs that are good start for those of us that’re green, they’re people who rob banks with a pen, rich people doing rich people crimes. They’re soft, easy, and all it really takes to catch them is knowing the land better and being tougher than city folk. Which ain’t hard at all. So, until I could stand on my own, those were the only kinds I took. Then I started goin’ after the bastards I really wanted to. People like the Johnson Brothers.”

She nearly spits the name. Arthur feels the sting in her soul.

“I never take those soft bounties anymore,” she continues after a deep breath, seeming more like herself again with every word. “Unless I need a break. But it’s been a while since I have.”

“Been a while since you took a bounty at all.”

She must notice the question in his voice. Not judgement, but question. “No. You’ve been kicking up too much fuss. Wouldn’t be smart for me to be seen around town here more than once or twice.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. While it is mostly true, it’s about all he’s going to get out of her, but he knows the real reason why. Even if she won’t admit it to herself. “Got me there, Al.”

“Not hard to do, Arthur.”

#also we're going with the bill is gay theory. but like. half the gang is gay so she's not making fun of that.#she hates bill. so she's making fun of HIM directly.#hope that comes across lol.#also i hope it's okay to tag you in this!!! I can fix it if not #rdr #alma tejada #my fics #i guess that's gonna be a tag. i mostly just share this shit with friends and post my much bigger projects elsewhere

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spiritualgateway · 4 years ago

Text

We are not impressed

wiritten by Steven Black:

Welcome.

This is mission control. We come with greetings from home and some thoughtful words. When we wrote you in the manual to act like natives on Earth and act just as narrow-minded, alarmist and ignorant as the majority of this planet lives, we did NOT mean this to be a permanent condition. It was only meant to allow you to pass as natives and be accepted as the same. We brought you, the troublemakers and rebels of the universe on board to kick the butts of the powerful on the planet hard, get things moving and wake up the sleeping majority rudely.

You've done a wonderful job of that. We are pleased about that. However, we are not impressed by the fact that a lot of you have been treading water ever since, doing nothing but creating more excitement and spreading some sensational information. No, folks. There was nothing about this in the manual and it wasn't planned that way. Seriously, we are not amused.

A few of you are running around proclaiming, "look, the end is near," and other participants in the cosmic plan suddenly desperately want to be Germans, Austrians, or whatever, and are indulging in national small-mindedness.

Hello, seriously now?

At the beginning some of us found it funny to observe beings, which were always known in the universe for expansion that they were suddenly occupied with shrinking and decreasing. Meanwhile, we don't find it so funny anymore. We find it quite exhausting. Like, by the way, some of the other things you fabricate there on Earth.

For the majority of the planet it is an accustomed, acceptable condition to see themselves only as receivers of information. You can just slap everything around their ears. And it is considered completely normal to simply pass on any information, no matter how negative and fearful it may be. They however should know that they are receiver AND transmitter of information. Please use your consciousness and your mind in the future, when you receive negative information again, before you simply pass it on. That is what a mind is for. You use it. Please be aware that any information should be checked for validity and sense first.

Further, make sure that what you want to pass on is really useful and helpful to other people. As a sender of information, you have a responsibility. Ask yourself, is this really the kind of energy I want to send into the world? It's not about not giving criticism. It's about examining that criticism for validity and usefulness. What is of no use to anyone is a waste of time - and energy.

Whether something is true or not cannot be evaluated by internet. None of you know the people behind who spread such information. You know neither their motives, nor the personal backgrounds to judge something like that. And the anonymous sources they refer to - well, the mainstream media work the same way. They know that, "close intelligence circles said, blah blah blah." Meanwhile, the "alternative media" is starting to work the same way.

Anyone can claim to care about humanity, the people or whatever. Most of the time other interests are at the forefront. Their predictable reaction when they believe this is fear, resistance, powerlessness, anger, hatred. It lowers their personal energy vibration to a little light that may just be blinking.

Did you know that there are more and more "social bots" in your so-called "social networks"? These are small programs that collect and spread information, especially used in political discussions, but also in sports and dating portals. Various political and economic interest groups use this tool to create the "right mood".

The postings are attributed to real people, but in fact various "News" are generated automatically and by machine. These social bots are so adaptable that it is almost impossible to distinguish between human and machine. At least not if you don't bother to check these "news".

Today, hate propaganda and xenophobia is often created by software and scattered on the Internet. There, this "fake news" meets people who, without checking, simply believe it because it seems to fit with their worldview - and off it goes, creating shitstorms. Be very clear about this. Just because something is possible doesn't mean it has to happen. But it can happen if you are not aware that your reaction serves the interests of power groups that are masters in creating enemy images and are very adept at turning people against each other.

There is a war going on on your planet for the information interpretation sovereignty, because "the power behind the throne" is fighting for its survival. Hereby it is tried to direct your attention and to areas which are far away from your personal life. Population management means arousing fears, reducing positive energies, injecting powerlessness and victim consciousness, and psychologically overwhelming the citizen in order to channel a reaction of anger, indignation, rejection. If consciousness has been successfully directed to a situation with a lot of information, some of it contradictory, and the individual is confused, the desired reaction occurs.

Stirring up trouble and waking up are only a tiny part of the multi-step plan, the main part is that you come back into your full power and demonstrate to the earthlings how to radiate from within. You seem to have completely skimmed over this chapter, or, knowing you, you didn't read it at all. This is bad. For us and for you. Not to mention the majority of the planet. All this 3 D actionism is starting to worry us. We get the strong impression that some of you are stuck in the middle of the process.

You are just repeating the information education that we started since the 1990s. All the information about the elite of this planet, mental manipulation, pharma, military, politics, wars, etc., served a purpose, but really should not be used for you to go here and point fingers at the supposed bad guys. Nor should you fight against them. We were hoping you would see the bigger picture in this. By processing the information given and really getting the point in what it's all about - which is you, personally - and realizing how the planet is controlled so YOU could stop falling for it and raise your personal vibration. Okay, didn't work so well, at least not for many of you.

Please try to understand that the power behind the "official power", basically profits from hatred, anger, powerlessness, even if this hatred may be directed against them themselves, or various political, economic interests in which they have invested and are involved. Because anger, fear, rage, hatred, powerlessness, victim consciousness and helplessness are very low vibrating energy fields, the more people are stuck in it, the bigger the field and the easier it is to maintain the "status quo" and carry out their plans.

The fear of a world war and/or an irrational religious war of course works very much into their hands. This is how the old energy works, always has and it is now fighting for survive. Scattering fear, uncertainty and doubt are a powerful weapon in the hands of those who for millennia have power over the planet.

In the course of the further step ignition it comes now to the intensified dissolution of your energetic barriers, within their multi-dimensional bodies. You have probably already noticed that they are becoming more permeable. That is why these fear-inducing messages have such an impact on you. And if you do not make an effort to clear your emotional body, you may not succeed in overcoming the low vibrational fields. Because these go into resonance with repressed and hidden contents IN your own consciousness and your emotional field.

You are here to raise these fields. Since we cannot need energetic blockages, or various subtle constructs that block the energies we send to your material body and Mother Earth through YOU. Because if you are not free of these blockages, the soul parts and energies that we send to you for support keep coming back to us. We send in, it comes back. We send in, it comes back. We find this annoying, constantly operating in repeat mode without getting anywhere. So please, finally take care of it.

We are very aware that you are tired and very disillusioned. We told you at the beginning - going to Earth is one of the hardest jobs in the universe. But we also know you can still do it, and you will. Apart from that, unfortunately, there is no alternative. There is only you. You are all we have and we put all our trust in you - still, because we have no other choice.

While the denial of the facts staggers along its peak, the biosphere contains less and less oxygen, the food is enriched with more and more toxins and the ecological balance mutates to a term that mocks every serious description. However, there are no other special forces which we could send to mankind to hold it back from the abyss of self-destruction. They are on their own. You all knew this before and now we remind you again of the briefing that you found so boring.

They were so full of themselves and thought it would be a piece of cake to take care and clean up on Earth. But the 3 D Matrix had them all under its spell. Unpleasant surprise, isn't it? In our experience, it takes a good 30-50 Earth years to fight your way through it. We gave you that time, but believe us - if you had paid more attention during the briefing and read the manual or at least just the emergency edition, you would have been spared a lot. Hopefully, that will teach you a lesson for the next time.

Please be aware, we need you! Mankind needs you, the earth needs you. And we have heard your personal calls for more help, which you sent to us on behalf of the people. But since this is probably a big misunderstanding on your part, we would like to remind you of another section of the briefing:

YOU are the help you are calling for! You and all other suicidal volunteers ARE the help we sent!

Pretending now that you are not in charge and hoping others will do the job will not look good on your leadership record. And demanding that God finally step in and fix this problem (yes, we heard that exactly) gives some of you an even less appealing report card. People caused the problems, people need to solve them too. Besides, God is at present fully occupied with the re - organization of universe and the creation of new codes and must not be disturbed (HE has given us personally to understand this).

You are on earth. You are responsible. You wanted the job and YOU also got it. So you make now obligingly something halfway reasonable from it.

Your present reality on earth looks honestly quite shitty. And that is actually good and wakes you up. There are truly more uplifting images we can imagine than watching a world afflicted by madness, whose social, economic and political world structure is falling apart, die. But that, of course, is what it's all about - dying. Your old, familiar, accustomed world is dying and there is nothing you can do about it. But many of you still try to stubbornly hold on to the old reality - and stop the dying process.

Things are changing, sometimes tremendously and in ways that none of you can oversee. However, you can help shape the way it happens. How chaotic it becomes is entirely in your hands. Some helpful points in this regard, for your kind attention:

Keep a little distance from the free will of others and tame your spiritual ambition. Or best of all, direct the energy of your ambition toward the avoidance of spiritual ambition.

If someone is desperate to spin the wheel, don't stop him. Cheer him on, because only a crash landing will bring him back to his senses.

Please give up your remaining victim attitude and switch into the responsible creator mode. We certainly understand and know from our own earth experience how difficult it can be to discard cherished worries and various notions of how small and helpless you are. It's so terribly convenient to rant about everything and name culprits, there's no need to get off your own butt.

Spread courage and optimism, no matter how little it may seem to be justified - but appearances are deceptive, they are always blinding. NOTHING is as it appears to be.

Please stop trying to dissolve your ego. Instead, see to it that you get a reasonably sane ego that is at peace with itself. You cannot dissolve your ego, you can only split it off. And that is not something we would like to see in you. "The ego" is your vehicle through which you were able to have an experience in the first place.

Please do not pretend that you are invulnerable and untouchable. What is happening here hurts, allow that pain. Meet the shadows inside you, integrate and digest these inner shadows. This will hurt, real shadow work breaks you open. This is a good thing and prevents the pain inside from forming into a weapon that turns against you.

Stay with yourself even when the world around you seems to be going crazy. Sweep outside your own front door, there is plenty to do there.

Rise above the low fields and try to wring something good out of your life.

Never forget that you are a star child who has successfully completed this task in many corners of the galaxy. Earth may be a particularly stubborn nut to crack, but you will crack that nut. In any case, giving up is not an option. Please pull yourself together and hold out, that would be even nicer.

Come on, impress yourself! Show us who you are and please stop playing the tourist!

Written in the style of E.T. 101.

Nothing you read here is THE truth. It is my truth, my perception and how I see things – now, in this moment.

Until next time same station ..

THE INFORMATION SPACE

#spiritual

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

Text

The marriage pact - Island folk

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 6 | Part 7 Island folk | Part 8 >

Disclaimer: mention of late motherhood worries

Author’s note: This story is just so much fun to write. I set a scene and *BOOM* it just kind of writes itself. Now, I don’t know how long this writing craze will continue, but so far you can expect an update every day. You read that right; every day!

Word count: 1.525

(Link to my Masterlist)

[ Alice.in.writing.land ]

Dear readers,

Dark are the abysses of my heart sometimes, and I know that keeping those thoughts under lock and key only make things worse. And so, for the first time on this blog, I’d like to share something really, truly personal with you. A little snippet of my thoughts for a tender of your time, I’d like to come clean about my most recent Google search which I did late last night, after hours of laying awake.

Late motherhood.

Why? You may wonder. Well, with my relationships continuously failing and the years - and candles - slowly adding up to my birthday cakes, I feel the increasing unease in my heart whenever I come to think of having a family of my own. Will it happen? And if so, am I not too late already? All my friends and family members had their first children in their late 20s, yet here I am, the oddball, single Pringling through life at 37.

It was about 3 AM late last night when I found myself quelling my nerves by looking at pictures of older female celebrities having kids at the “ripe old age of 35”, which in my book is still super young, but of course we are looking at Hollywood standards here. And, to be quite frank, I’m not sure if it helped me, but at least it did offer me the slightest sliver of hope as I found that I’ll probably just need a little luck, good preparation..and perhaps a donor, to make my wishes come true.

Research is required.

But, let’s not get carried away just yet. I know what I want, now all I need to give myself is time. Time to listen to my heart and learn if this is truly it, time to investigate my options a little more and time to sleep. Because honestly, Google is one hell of a click-through trap when you can’t sleep - I may or may not have ended up falling asleep to videos of laughing foxes, which are truly..the cutest. In case you want to look it up and dare to delve into the time consuming trap that is watching random Youtube videos, then search for: “Finnegan fox”.

Hi-la-ri-ous.

Also; apparently chocolate cakes have internet access. So, aherm, hello and welcome to my little writing den, oh mysterious chocolate cake of mine!

A very sleepy, but glad to have this off her chest,

Ali

The waves broke softly onto the shoreline as the wind tugged gently on my hair, my pen scribbling away on the paper notebook on my lap. For some odd reason I found it much more comfortable to write by hand, and so whenever the mood struck and I found the time, I snuck out to my little beach hide-out and started to write. This time it was for work, but sometimes I also worked on smaller fictional stories, the very act of writing calming my nerves considerably.

I looked up when I heard the sound of slushing feet through the fine sand, the distinct vibrations telling me someone was approaching me with slow, dragging feet. And.. it appeared to be not just anyone.

Henry.

So very suddenly I felt terrible about posting that blog this morning. Had he read it? Would he start a conversation about it? I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to have that conversation with him right now. We were at best just dating, our newly rekindled friendship slash relationship only a few days young.

He stifled a yawn as he plopped down beside me on the picnic blanket, his eyes sporting large dark circles beneath them, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked me over. I sniffled, shaking my head at the fact that we both had barely slept - obviously.

‘Mornin’.’ He grumbled, a gentle smile reaching his lips, his body leaning forward, but halting mid-morning kiss. Almost automatically I closed the distance, my hand moving aside my notebook so I could lean in, lips brushing over his, which apparently was just what he needed, his lips curling up in a full smile. ‘Hi.’ I whispered into his lips, then leaned back, tucking some rogue curl behind his ear before studying him better. Once more he wore a blue shirt - he had a gazillion of those, didn’t he? - and some dark jeans, his hair fresh and messy straight out of bed.

’So…no sleep then?’ I inquired, watching him as he slowly moved his gaze towards the rolling waves before us. ‘Nope.’ ‘How come?’ ‘Hmm..’ He thought aloud. ‘..I suppose it is difficult to just stop my life right dead in its tracks.’ He sighed.

‘What’s up Hen?’ I scooted closer to him, fingering a hand through his curls, his eyes closing as he revelled into the simpleness of my touch.

‘I have to fly back to London for the weekend. There’s this event that my manager can’t seem to cancel without serious repercussions and..’ He sighed again. ‘You don’t want to go.’ ‘Not really no. But I will have to. The fox videos helped by the way.’

My heart summersaulted at his words - not only because he apparently read my blog, which wasn’t entirely surprising, but also because he was showing so much vulnerability. This large bear of a man was being honest about the things that frustrated him, something I had never experienced with previous partners. They’d always just burst out in flames all of a sudden, without giving me any fair warning before hand.

‘Hmm..’ I hummed, thinking. His eyes were still staring out to the sea, soft waves cascading in similar shades to his cerulean irises. He truly seemed to be a bit done with it all.

‘I’ve got some swimming pig videos at the ready too.’ I added, laying my head onto his shoulder and wrapping both my arms around his large chest, wishing to comfort him a little. ‘Hehe..swimming pigs.’ He chuckled, his chest vibrating with near silent mirth. ’Yea..can you imagine? Those tiny, tiny legs kicking through aquamarine water, their noses sticking out the water like living, breathing, skin coloured electricity points. Oink oink!’

Henry’s chuckle turned into rumbling laughter, his shoulders shaking until he finally looked back at me, my head still resting on his shoulder. ‘Ali..I ..eh..know this is maybe a bit weird, but, would you perhaps like to join me? To London? Leaving Friday night, back Sunday morning?’

I sat up, my brown eyes staring into his deep blues. Tender, hopeful blues. ‘Hmm.’ I hummed, blinking for a moment as I mulled over his words.

‘I know it’s all going fast and I don’t want to pressure you.’ He added.

‘No, it’s okay. It’s ehm..okay. Yea, sure, I’ll come. I haven’t been to London in ages and don’t have weekend plans anyways.’

‘Ages?’ ‘Naa..okay..maybe not ages. More like months.’ I snorted. We both laughed until finally my eyebrow quirked up. ‘So..what kind of event are you ..or we..going to?’ Henry smiled, leaning in to kiss me, the sound of my fluttering heart drowning out all else around us.

The answer to my question didn’t matter, I was simply very happy that I could join him and finally get a sneak peek of his usual life. Henry’s life.

—

‘I’m still amazed at the fact that you managed to pack all your things in that one backpack.’ Henry grinned, pushing my backpack in the overhead storage locker in First Class. I grinned in turn, shrugging my shoulders as I sat back in my seat. ‘Oh you know. I don’t mock about. No need to bring the unnecessary.’

‘You’d make for a fine traveller.’ He admitted, plopping down in his seat, right next to me, his hand quite instantaneously interlacing with mine - he didn’t even seem to think about it -, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips as he watched two business men enter, taking their seats a few rows ahead, leaving us plenty of privacy.

Slowly, he cast me a curious glance. ‘What is it, dear?’ He asked, noticing my studious look, his smile growing and his blue eyes sparkling.

‘Mmm..just wondering. You probably thought about this far better than I have thus far. But if you’d start a family..how would that..go? Like..-‘ ‘The travelling and stuff?’ ‘Yea.’

Henry leaned into the headrest, his head tilting up slightly as he licked his lips. ‘It’s going to take some back-and-forthing with my partner. And it won’t be easy. It will not only be my children that will give you broken nights, you see.’ He grinned and my heart fluttered at his words - children! -, yet my mouth remained sealed, waiting for him to continue. He sighed. ‘I..would definitely slow down my career. For the longest time I didn’t even think of that as a possibility. But like you wrote quite perfectly; all my friends and family members had their children young and here I am..the oddball. I know I should not press my luck by demanding my partner to give up everything for me. That is just not fair.’

‘Give and take.’ I added.

‘Yes, give and take.’ He smiled at me, his large warm hand squeezing mine gently. It felt nice. ‘Okay..so another question. You live in London right?’ ‘Mostly, yes.’ He nodded, making me grin. ‘Yea yea..Superman has several mansions and a jet setting career that makes you quiver right back into your 2-bedroom flat.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘But all joking aside..why did you chose to stay with your parents, now you requested a “time-out”?’

Henry shifted in his seat, his smiling face turning to one holding a more serious expression. ‘I’m from the island baby. And I will always, ALWAYS return to the island. It is my one true home after all.’

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69

Fluff lovers squad: @star017 @perhaps2remember @pterodactylterrace @witchersqueen @desperate-and-broken @toomanyfandomsshreya @deliciouslysassyarcade @pamacs-macs @cavilladdict @scorpionchild81 @lebguardians @sofiebstar @amberbabem @mis-lil-red @aestheticqueenb @misslalaland-blog-blog @ilieherecharmed-fics2readnrec @michelehansel

Want to be added to or removed from the tag list? Shoot me a message!

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x author #henry cavill x OC #henry cavill fluff #jetset #lifestyle #beach #jersey islands #london #motherhood #family planning #romcom #the marriage pact #island folk

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millllenniawrites · 5 years ago

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Mack’s Birthday Recommendations

Hi all! After coming back from a 2 year hiatus, it’s been amazing to have been received with such love and support. I’ve been reaching out to some writers in the community and reading a lot more, and there is so much fanfic that needs to be appreciated! This is a non-exhaustive list of some of the best fanfic accounts I read in the last year (I HAVE PROBABLY FORGOTTEN SO MANY SO CATCH ME UPDATING THIS LATER TODAY WHEN I REALIZEEEEEE)

@the-arsonist has been one of my favourite prodigal son writers. Burn Season is one of the most compelling fics I have ever read. The perspective is like nothing else I have ever laid eyes on and I loved every second of it.

@damerondjarin has started writing for poe and my life is now over. there are not WORDS. I just love. Everything. So much.

literally anything @imanuglywombat writes is phenomenal. WARNING this blog is 18+ and the smut is smut and oh so scandalous so please wait until you’re 18 to read but HOLY HELL DO I NEED A COLD SHOWER AFTER SOME OF THOSE. If you’re into dark!fic, you will find tons and tons of great content here

I discovered @carol-damn-vers and binged everything in a day. Another account where you can read anything and be blown away. Like just so good.

If you are looking for amazing fic about any all of the characters Adam Driver has played, @babbushka is the way to go. I absolutely LOVE her Flip Zimmerman. Who is hers. Just for the record. We love Mrs. Zimmerman. Hi Mrs. Zimmerman!

@woakiees makes me cry but like in the best way? I messaged her after reading this fic called Now I’m Hungry For Blood Again and I have probably read that and everything else on her blog like 20 times over. very rarely do you find writers that you can reread that many times and still feel all the things but I FEEL ALL THE THINGS MAN

@no-droids JUST GO READ EVERYTHING. ESPECIALLY LOCKED DOOR. BUT ALSO JUST EVERYTHING. filthy smut. brilliant plot. great unique reader characters. I wish I could write like this. straight up.

@tintinwrites has some of THE BEST nsfw Poe content I've ever read. I discovered her when her Poe anon’s were at PEAK ACTIVITY and I had to go to CHURCH after reading that stuff, but it just goes to show how strong her dialogue is.

whenever @whenimaunicorn pops up on my dash, I know I’m about to be reading some serious quality stuff. Some of my favourite fics and drabbles (like this one) were written by this lovely human.

@cptnbvcks is wonderful and filthy and HILARIOUS and I love every single post on her blog. regularly stalk her asks. might be one of her anons. I SHALL SAY NOTHING ELSE ON THE MATTER.

@stevieharrrr has amazing Javi stuff and is also like so incredibly sweet? if I needed anyone on this hellsite to go to bat for me, I would hope it would be her. I love the way she puts together a story. Her details are the perfect amount for reader insert: just enough to make every second seem real, but never too much that it alienates the reader. She has truly mastered this fine line and I'm OBSESSED. also she deals with me screaming about all her updates like the sweetheart she is which like even my family can’t do?

@rzrcrst is such a kind human being that has talent literally OOZING FROM EVERY CELL IN HER BODY like her stuff should be published. Ezra is such a difficult character to write for because of the way he talks and she has such a handle on his voice.

@darksideofclarke has one of my favourite Poe Dameron’s that I've ever read. also some of the best smut. Her rockstar!Poe series is so creative and full of fluff and smut and drama and we love.

@beskars I literally didn't realize you had changed your url until I was making this list? but much obliged got me through multiple anxiety attacks and that’s that on that. such a beautiful series.

@zeldasayer just so you know I absolutely refuse to believe that Gin isn’t a real person. Whiskey and Gin is canon as far as I’m concerned. Kingsmen: Golden Circle who? don’t know her. just know the genius that is Zelda #sorrynotsorry

@vampirewithbedsidemanners is my best frien and she has a fucking trash blog so someone go TELL HER TO POST MORE WRITING BECAUSE SHE’S SO GOOD also you will soon be seeing a fic we are working on together......... might be a sequels rewrite. might have poe dameron smut in the first five chapters. WE SHALL SEE

I’m looking forward to reading more amazing content in this next year of my life! (also thanks for the birthday wishes folks)

#mack answers #mack recommendations #recommendations #recommended #best accounts 2019 #best fics 2019

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thebiasrekkers · 5 years ago

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Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC Genre: BTS Mafia!AU Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Smut, Slow Burn "It's always darkest before the dawn..." It's a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

AO3 | WP

Chapter 00: Prologue

"I’ve grown a bit taller My voice has gotten a bit stronger..."

Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6

Ten Years Ago Hwaseong – Gyeonggi Province South Korea

The air was frigid and crisp. There was a feeling of absolute quiet across the vast expanse of tall reeds; half dead while others tried desperately to cling to what life remained in their roots. The occasional crunch of leaves and scuffle of rocks could be heard – ripping through the quiet as the afternoon sun soon sank into the horizon. More undergrowth was crushed underfoot, approaching a certain spot. A destination was set by those same sets of sounds; the distinct sound of sneakers trudging with a purpose but were in no hurry.

A lone figure sat on a large rock near the Hwaseong Riverbank. One leg hung lazily off the edge, the other perched so that an elbow could rest along the knee. His blazer was loose, the tails fanning around his backside just where he sat. A cigarette poked from his full lips as the ember burned silently, flaring a bright orange when a sudden gust of wind would push against him. The sound of the brush being pushed aside began to grow louder but he made no move to face the direction of the noise.

After all, he knew who was coming.

“Namjoon-ah,” came a voice, familiar and deep. Namjoon craned his neck, the cigarette still hanging from his lips. Looking up at him from the ground, the person flashed him a half gummy smile. “You wanna start a fire?”

Namjoon grinned. “Yoongi Hyung.”

Reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer where a crumpled pack of cigarettes were hidden, he tossed them down to Yoongi and he caught them easily. Namjoon watched as the older man lit one of the smokes before clambering up onto the rock beside him. Yoongi handed the pack back to him, exhaling as he leaned back on his hands to look at the sky.

“Those things are going to be the death of you one day,” came Hoseok’s voice from the tall reeds.

They both turned to see Seokjin and Hoseok pushing the honey wheat stalks to the side as they looked up at them.

Seokjin clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Both of you.”

Yoongi made a motion for the two of them to come join them on the rock. Namjoon opened and closed the lid of the Zippo lighter – the soft clinking sound a cadence that helped put him at ease. They clambered onto the rock, Seokjin choosing to stand as he turned his head in either direction – as if he were trying to spy something out. Namjoon caught Yoongi bumping Hoseok’s shoulder, holding the cigarette out to him and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the disgusted expression that painted Hoseok’s face – his dark fringe flying in every direction as he shook his head to decline.

The conversation that bubbled between them was short-lived as another body burst through the reeds, looking winded and as though he’d just gotten finished with a track meet race. Namjoon raised a brow as Jimin’s hair clung to his semi-sweat soaked brow, his hand gripping tightly to his uniform jacket. Yoongi clicked his tongue repeatedly along the back of his teeth, cigarette moving up and down with the gesture. Namjoon was already putting his out on the edge of the rock.

“Sorry I’m late, Hyungs!”

“What took you so long?” Seokjin asked, though everyone knew that he wouldn’t really give Jimin grief about it. “We were waiting here forever.”

Jimin’s smile fell a margin, worry lines creasing his brows. “W-What? Really?”

Seokjin laughed as Hoseok elbowed him in the leg while casting Jimin a reassuring gaze. “We just got here. Don’t listen to him.”

Relief washed over Jimin’s face just as Taehyung came strolling through the brush, bumping his shoulder into Jimin’s playfully. The two of them shared a smirk as Taehyung shoved his hands into the pockets of his uniform pants. The stick of a lollipop poked out the corner of his mouth as he flashed his boxy smile to them; sandalwood tresses falling around his eyes.

“What did I tell you about the sugar, Taehyung-ah?” chided Yoongi, taking a drag of his cigarette. Translucent smoke expelled from his nostrils as their eyes met. Taehyung’s smile dropped as he continued to suck on the candy. “You’re hyper enough without that shit.”

Namjoon watched Taehyung’s boxy smile return almost instantly and he rolled his eyes. “It’s the only way I can stay awake in my classes these days.”

“It’s luck that he’s made it this far,” said Jimin, sighing softly, “and he keeps bugging me to help him with homework all the time.”

Taehyung pulled the sucker from his mouth, blowing a raspberry at Jimin. “I’m not even going to college. Why are they pushing me so hard?” He frowned. “It’s annoying.”

The others cast a sidelong glance toward Namjoon and he shrugged, retrieving another cigarette from his jacket. Spinning the Zippo between his fingers, he lit the end and expelled a half sigh after the first drag. Out of everyone in the group, he was the only one who received a full sponsored scholarship to Seoul University. Like most post-graduate students from high school who were planning to attend college, they usually took a few months off before going to school.

For a year, he’d moved away from Hwaseong and left the rural country life behind. He got to see Seoul in all its splendor and all its glory. There were good and bad things about the big city life. It was crowded, loud and smelled thick with smog. It was the odious stench of a thriving metropolis and where people cared more about themselves than each other. Money talked even more in the city than in the country and there were few people he could trust in the city. Not like in the countryside. Justice was practically laughable, and gangsters walked the streets proudly, as if the law couldn’t touch them. Usually because they couldn’t.

It had been a disgusting year of solitude and study.

He’d missed his brothers.

“So Namjoon Hyung,” cut Taehyung’s voice through his thoughts, “why’d you call us out here anyway? Come to brag about city life to us ignorant country folks?” Even though he was smiling, Namjoon could hear the quiet bitterness nestled in the back of Taehyung’s words.

Hoseok cut his eyes toward Taehyung and snapped his fingers at him. “Watch your damn mouth, Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung rocked back on his heels in the grass, a few pebbles crunching under his sneakers as he shrugged with his hands still in his pockets. “What?” he asked, closing his eyes as he sucked on his candy for a moment. “Figured he left for the big times and wasn’t planning on coming back. Who can blame him though, right?” His eyes reopened as he looked up at Namjoon just as a column of ash fell off the end of his cigarette. “I wouldn’t come back to this backwater town if I was him, either.”

“Cut it out, Tae Hyung,” came a softer voice in the reeds.

They all turned to see Jungkook appearing through the pale stalks. He looked tired, as if he’d been carrying the weight of their nation on his shoulders. But they all knew what the truth was. The duffel bag hanging from his shoulders as one of the straps of his overalls fell off his arm and the smudge of dirt on his cheek was proof enough. His face looked a little red and sweat dripped from his hair and chin, his work boots scuffing along the grass as he dropped the duffel at his feet – setting his white hardhat on top of it.

“Namjoon Hyung didn’t come home to gloat.” Jungkook wiped a forearm across his forehead to rid it of the sweat. “Stop being an asshole.”

Namjoon frowned, the image of Jungkook in his factory work clothes twisting something inside of his heart. His year in Seoul had opened his eyes to a reality he’d wished he’d remained ignorant to. He could have said fuck college and stayed in Hwaseong with his friends – with his brothers. Finding work in their little country town would have been easy for Namjoon and he could have been happy, blissfully ignorant to the truth of just how dirty the real world was.

Call him selfish, but he didn’t want to leave his best friends behind while he suffered in silence alone. Would they understand him? Would they hear what he had to say?

“Namjoon,” called Hoseok, bringing him back out of his thoughts; out of his own internal guilt. “Tell us what’s on your mind. Why did you want to meet?”

He looked at all of them and they waited patiently to hear what he had to say. He didn’t just call them all up to hang out or talk about the good times. No. He came back because he wanted to ensure that his friends had a future, and a successful one at that. But it would mean dipping their hands into the dirt; to feel the grime under their fingernails.

Not like farmers did, but the way that criminals lived and breathed.

He jumped from his perch on the rock, picking up a flat river stone as he pulled one last drag from his cigarette. Namjoon reared back and slung the stone out into the river, all of them watching as it skipped along the dark pool’s surface before finally sinking down below and onto the riverbed. One by one, they all approached him – forming a semi-circle around his back. There was no turning back from this once he said what he had to say. They would either listen or cast him aside. He just prayed that it wouldn’t be the latter like he continued to fear.

Spitting the butt of the cigarette out into the water, he turned to look at his friends – a wistful smirk forming on his face.

“You guys wanna come to Seoul with me?”

#bangtanarmynet #bts fanfiction #bts ot7 #bts fanfic #bts mafia au #bts mafia #bts imagines #biasrekkers #bts biasrekkers #bts

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iam-kenough · 4 years ago

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Will you ever notice me? (Arthur Morgan x Original Female Characters)

Summary: Dutch and his boys found a girl hidden inside wrecked shack near their camp. She introduces herself as Iris and starts leading outlaw life with Van der Linde gang, quickly developing feelings towards one, special cowboy. However there is big year gap between them and Arthur sees Iris just as a kid...And girl won’t take that!

Authors notes: TO THOSE WHO READ THIS - THANK YOU! I can see some of you leave hearts under my post on regular basis and even if it’s only one or two people, I will write for you. I have a question for you - would you see a crossover in this story? I have an idea for The Witcher crossover happening in 10 to 15 chapters. Any feelings about that? It’s just another chapter and you can find the rest of them following masterlist on my blog if you want to read more of my fanfiction. Hope you gonna enjoy it! Words count: 2816 Chapter 14 Arthur got up from bed with shitty mood this day, thinking about events from few night's before. How could Iris be so cold to him? Man couldn't get away from these thoughts. But he also knew that he deserved much more than only few harsh words. He was a bastard so she was dealing with him like with one. Woman was merciful enough to keep him around, at least that's what Arthur told himself. One thing couldn't get off his head. Where was she? Whatever he tried, Arthur couldn't find her recently, but the tent was here and girl's presence was visible, marked with her clothes, thrown on the floor or on the bed. He suddenly heard that someone is breaking glass behind the trees somewhere around the tent he was sleeping in.

- Glad it ain't your job - Iris was leaning against the tree. She looked different today, fresh, happy and she wasn't hangover. Girl was dressed similar to Arthur, black trousers with suspenders, dark green shirt, gun belt, high boots and her hair was collected in messy bun on the top of her little head. She was talking to Sean, who was shooting towards empty beer bottles.

- What about you, you can't do that to, can ya? - boy's accent was strong and thick, Sean visibly mocking Iris.

- Maybe you want to go with me and see me in action so you won't underestimate me anymore - woman threw him challenging gaze.

- What are you both up to, kids? - Arthur approached them, taking position on the opposite side to Iris's.

- Sean decided he's gonna train shooting skills. But there is one thing, bastard's drunk.

- That gives you twice much chances to shot someone! - Arthur spreaded his arms as honest and hearty laugh escaped his lungs.

- Stop scolding me, you are not even older than me, Iris! And by the way, you were the one who went yesterday downtown and killed some folk to pay your bounty, when half the state is hoping to shoot you for two thousand dollars. It was supposed to be a secret between her and Sean and Arthur threw her angry look right away. She wouldn't use his help and she meant it. The crease between his brows remained deep and his ocean eyes were locked on very certain person.

- Well, look at me, paying two thousand dollars fine for my head and killing multiple fellers when all you have to do is shot 5 bottles that ain't moving and you can't do that, can ya?

- I asked you to help me, not to scold me - Sean approached her, lowering his tone to calm and obedient so Arthur wouldn't hear what comes next - Don't make me ask him, he would laugh me off.

- Oh, that's who you are afraid of! Never would thought about that - she said out loud, looking at Arthur and smirking - Ye knew I learned form him, eh?

- You think you are so much better? Okay, give it a go, your best shot, Rhiannon! Iris threw him look of someone who's done with his shit and in the nick of time she pulled out a gun and almost at the same moment bottle cracked. She wasn't as fast as Arthur, but it was still impressive.

- Grow up - she said and turned around on heel.

- Oh come on, I'm paying you for that, don't go away, please? - Sean changed his tactics immidiately.

- You're paying for my compliments, not for real advices, attaboy. And I cannot be bought. Arthur stayed out of it, but it was amusing to watch as Iris is roasting everybody around wherever she can. That's his girl.

- I think you are too harsh on me, that's all - Sean got back to shooting, throwing looks above his arm to be sure Iris is still watching him.

- Oh, poor boy, some little lady is making you cry. You can ask our old Arthur for help, if ya don't like me - she patted Arthur's arm and Sean frowned.

- I won't listen to no Englishman!

- I don't like the way you talk to her, kid - Arthur scoffed, giving boy judgemental eyes - Guess you just lost chances with both of us.

Sean threw him disappointed look and got back to his task. Iris left Sean and Arthur followed her, grabbing her arm suddenly and turning her around.

- I told ya not to go anywhere alone, I offered you the money that could save you, why you keep pushing me and my help away? - he was towering her, looking down with disappointment. Iris's back rested against the tree and she tool deep breath.

- Arthur...darling...I told you I can't use your help, especially when it comes to money. Look at us, the last thing I need is to be financialy dependent. We don't get along at all.

- And why is that, what is wrong with me taking care of you? - man's palm rested near Iris's head when the elbow was straightened, closing one of possible ways for her to leave him hanging right now.

- You're not the one that should do that, Mister! You have woman you care about in your life, Arthur, her name's Mary.

- It's different with you - he murmured, averting his gaze.

-It is, you are right. There is nothing between us and you try to pretend it is.

- Nothin' between us, huh? And all those feelings we share? Since I met you my heart is fluttering as soon as I see you and I feel like a fool - Arthur muttered under his breath, it was crystal clear he hated speaking about his emotions.

- Feelings aren't enough sometimes. I shut this door, Arthur. It's over.

- You're breaking up with me?

- Arthur, we were never properly together in the first place, so calm down - her tone was serious but girl caressed his cheek and smiled - I'm sure I'm not the only girl that can warm you up at nights.

- You are the only one to me - he shaken his head with disbelief and clenched his jaw righ after, looking away like betrayed dog.

- I am not, you think I am naive enough to believe in that? You have past and it's chasing you, I ain't girl for you.

- What are you saying, kid? - Arthur's eyes narrowed.

- You're sleeping with Mary, right? At least that's what all red lights were showing me. All those letters, staying away, not coming home at night. I can't blame you, she's beautiful and more mature...more like you - Iris's voice was full of jealousy. Arthur suddenly grabbed her chin and kissed her. The feeling coming with the kiss was unbearable, sensation fallin on Iris, tying up knot inside her stomach. She suddenly felt butterflies trying to get outside her chest and blood running faster in her veins. But girl quickly realised it's her heart, racing so much it almost hurt. His chapped, plump lips were doing the job with softening her fasade, that's for sure. Iris couldn't help but run fingers through Arthur's golden hair. His breath was warm and stubble on Arthur’s face tickled a bit, causing shivers in lower part of Iris’s spine. That was it, he hunted her down again. She purred, sucking onto his lower lip and smiled dreamily.

- Do you think I could do something like that with anyone else but you? - Arthur asked - How could you assume I cheated on you and wasn't even asking me for my side of the story? I never did, especially not with Mary.

- Wait, does that mean that all those things that happened to us...are my fault? - girl's face suddenly dropped, brows forming into frown.

- I'm not blaming you, even if it is I can't - Arthur's forehead rested against hers - I should say something too, but I just thought I am too old for you, or maybe too stupid or to harsh when it comes to our intimacy and that's why you are slipping from my hads so quickly - Iris noticed that his eyes were glimmering.

- Hey, I am cold bitch but I wouldn't treat you so badly only for those things - she whispered surprised, her breath unsteady.

- I am not much to look at, I assumed you just wanted someone better...but I am the best for you, girl, I can feel we match just like puzzles does - it was the smoothest line Arthur Morgan ever used on anyone.

- You are unbelievable! - she scoffed - And that's why you were gone all days every time there was a letter from Mary?

- I am a fool - Arthur run fingers through his hair in nervous manner - I shouldn't help her, yer right, it looked so bad when now I remind myself...I just had this very wrong feeling sayin' I owe her somethin'. She was asking me about lot of things and I felt like idiot running her errands thinking it's just help that she needs after becoming a widow and I soon as she tried to...convince me I should ignore some young girl running after me and make love to her I escaped from Mary, a-and then I was diagnosed, assured by doctor I'm gonna die, I couldn't let you watch it- - Arthur was rambling on and on, falling apart at the same time. But then Iris grabbed his both arms, looking at him firmly but with genuine and consider smile on her rosy lips.

- I would never leave you, even if you'd die tomorrow. Heart doesn't work like this, I care about you, even if we don't have good time every day, Arthur. I would stay by your side, no matter what- Arthur's eyes became stromy again and he pulled Iris into tight embrace, burrying face in her hair. Man tried to hide it but Iris knew he's iritated with her little sugarcoating. Her small hands were running circles around his arms and back, letting him calm down a little.

- I was afraid...to infect you, Iris. I was already dirty, living like a savage, no need to do the same to ya.

- Shh, I'm not mad anymore - her heart was melting away on sight of Arthur Morgan who's trying to get her back. Maybe she was simple, so what?

- That means you gonna stay? I think you suit there.

- I will stay even if it's gonna be here, in this camp till the end of the world, you know it - she pecked his nose gently - We just have to sit down someday and talk about communication between us.

- You sound so smart sometimes even though all you do is stupid and reckless - Arthur mocked her.

- Its more about me without you, I need to be protected - she whispered to his ear, observing as this boyish grin appeared on Arthur's lips. Iris planned to do that more often, clearly seeing through him and his low self-esteem. Man needed to be reassured once in a while that he’s important.

Arthur cheered up suddenly, grabing Iris into rough bear hug, messing up her hair a little and grinning like stupid.

- And mister? I told you to quit smoking! - girl barked out trying to be intimidating but it caused only vibrations in Arthur's chest as he couldn't help but laugh.

Iris thought that she was light headed and drunk with love, but Arthur was just whole new level. All man was doing all days was following Iris around the camp as much as he could, looking ridiculous. If she was washing his shirts, he was scolding her for overworking herself, every time Iris chopped vegetables he was chiming in, helping her and kicking Mr Pearson out and hugs from the back happened often, usually stuttering her since Arthur could take really silent steps if he wanted to. Iris didn't mind though, she was adoring idea of hot, dangerous gunslinger falling on their knees for her even if for a second. Every moment she was reminding herself first time she met Arthur's stormy gaze, her knees were a little bit shaky.

Days passed and girl still couldn't figure out how to ask Arthur if they can share a tent. It should be obvious but on first night after their reconcile he mumbled ''goodnight'' and disappeared behind tent's flaps. Iris couldn't tell if she should follow, so stayed away and now it was another stupid problem she made up to have thing to worry about. In her head it looked like small gesture showing he's not ready for her to come and turn his life upside down again. She sighed and started getting herself ready to go to bed, undressing and stretching her muscles, listening with satisfaction as her whole skeleton cracked. She still was hurt after train robbery, that one was tough and running away from bounty hunters one day was even tougher. Air was warm tonight, a bit stuffy also dark clouds presaged storm. Iris decided she's gonna sleep naked and clothes she owned were throwed inside big, wooden trunk.

- Hey, Iris, can you come over for sec- - Arthur froze in place seeing her naked with eyes wide and mouth open in "o" shape.

- Go away! - she squeked, throwing pillow in his face.

- Jesus, I'm sorry! - Arthur looked away quickly, but his cheeky smile showed otherwise.

- You should knock, Mister! - girl said, covering herself quickly, not noticing small peeks Arthur was throwing at her ass and hips when she was turned around.

- Sorry, I wasn't expectin' you like that...- he said with goofy smile.

- Like what? It's too warm tonight to sleep wearing anything and suddenly I think I'm gonna melt away - Iris waved her hands with motion towards complexion, causing a little bit of cold air caress her glimmering face.

- Yeah, you- I mean, it's hot, y'er right - Arthur's hands became fidgety, he was picking on his nails nervously, blushing like a boy.

- And you should knock 'cause there are plenty things I can do naked - Iris mocked him, causing motion of his hands to speed up.

- Girls do that too?! Are you thinking of me when you-

- You pig! - she thew another pillow at him.

- I'm sorry, I wasn't expectin' you- I wasn't expecting that - his eyes eagerly run from up to down - Iwantedtoinviteyoutocomeoverplease.

- Huh? Are you drunk, Arthur?

- A bit, yes - it clearly wasn't a bit, Iris could tell, chatty tongue, jazzy hands, next thing is gonna be yelling how much he wants to cuddle her - I wanted to show you my new bed, it's bigger.

- Well, good for you, you always whined your back hurts - Iris shrugged.

- It's bigger so you could sleep with me - suddenly he got bolder, approaching her and slithering his hands onto her waist.

- Oh, I thought I wasn't invited - Iris pretended to look away and being irritated.

- You're right, I should do it properly. My lady, would you follow me to my bed and spend the night in my arms? - Arthur offered her a hand like he was asking Iris for a dance.

- Now that's something I like to hear, I would be honored, Mr Morgan - Iris said, picking up pillow from the floor and bringing it along with herself to Arthur's tent. New bed was really big and he was so creative to place few candles around, making mood more intimate and romantic. Iris whistled, showing she's impressed and rested on his bed, trying it out, rolling around for a minute.

- Ah, sorry, I should ask you. I'm little bit sticky - she said, her face glimmering from sweat.

- No no, go on - Arthur said, plastering his eyes to her body. He rocked a little bit in place as erection was growing hard in man's pants. Arthur's trying to look anywhere around, but it was impossible. Small feet, then slim calves, tights that had just enough cushion do lie down on them comfortable and then those round hips with neat buttocks.

- How much did you have today, Mister? - Iris raised her brow.

- A few beers, they lured me into that, I swear - Arthur said trying out his convincing tone and waving hands to show he's innocent.

- Surely - she purred, lowering her voice in sexy maneuver - I heard your voice, how it was again, hmm, ring dang doo?

- Maybe - he said, blushing briefly. Oh, Iris could do anything to him now and he would wag his tail like a puppy.

- You wanna come here or what?

- Y-you know, I'm good here for now - he rocked on the chair again. Iris noticed small tent rised in his pants and smirked.

- That's a shame - she sighed with fake disappointment - But I'm perfectly comfortable here so - she said stretching a little bit, her nipples showing of through chemise - Goodnight, Mister. Arthur gulped. She's gonna be the death of him.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x original character #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan romance #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 tag #arthur morgan angst

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porkchop-ao3 · 5 years ago

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A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 47)

Reunion

So here is a tender chapter of reader and Arthur’s first moments together after such a difficult period apart. I’d been waiting to write this part for so long, I hope you enjoy ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

I crossed the room, sitting down on the chair beside Arthur. I perched awkwardly on the edge of it, my knees pointing towards him, just barely touching his outer thigh. It felt weird not just throwing my arms around him and completely showering him in kisses and affection, telling him over and over that I loved him and that seeing him alive was the most relief I'd ever felt in my entire life and I missed him so goddamn much and I never wanted to lose him ever again–

But there were people around. I couldn't do that with so many eyes not-so-subtly watching, perhaps expecting that precise reaction. Oh, but I longed to.

"Arthur, I'm so glad you're okay. These past few weeks, not knowing what happened, I've been– I was a mess. Awful to be around. Just ask any one of 'em," I spoke very quietly, just so he could hear. He looked up at me from his stew, wiping at the hair of his beard that kept trying to go into his mouth along with the spoon.

"I can't imagine you'd ever be awful to be around," he said, his usual flattery and charm filling me with a sweet sense of familiarity, "I'm sorry, beautiful. If I could've come back sooner, I would've."

"I know," I breathed, putting my hand on his thigh. He glanced down at it once, then started guzzling his food quicker.

"I missed you," he told me once he was finished, putting his hand atop mine, "every day I did, was almost all I could think of; coming back to you. That's why I came first. Dutch wanted to send Micah but I made sure I got my way," he added, the corner of his mouth lifting with a hint of mischief.

"I think we'd all rather see you riding in than Micah," I snorted. He smiled at me, his eyes so unmovingly focussed on mine.

"I was nervous coming back. Wondered if there was even a gang to come back to," he admitted. "I saw the letter from my darling niece Caroline, back at Shady Belle," his smile widened.

"That was Sadie's creative streak," I giggled. He exhaled a laugh through his nose then dipped his head, drawing my hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it.

"I missed you," he repeated softly.

"I missed you too," I whispered, hunching over and leaning close to him, the tops of our heads touching. "I kept your satchel and your journal safe. They're by my bedroll. I had to go inside to toss some bad food, I hope you don't mind," I told him. He made a small sound of appreciation.

"Did you look inside my journal?" He asked curiously, not at all stern or disapproving.

"No, I promise," I answered honestly. He lifted his head to meet my eyes.

"I'm a little surprised. Not even to see my drawings of you?" He queried.

I shook my head. "It's yours. I didn't want to invade your privacy, not while I still had hope that you'd be coming back to me."

"That's sweet," he chuckled, "though I wouldn't've minded."

I was touched by the admission. We parted only when Susan appeared before us, smiling at the sight of us despite her attempts to seem like she hadn't noticed our position.

"There's a bucket of warm water waiting for you in the other shack, Mr. Morgan," she told him, "I got out your clothes and shaving things too, so you can get that thing off'a your chin," she added sternly. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes ma'am," he said, groaning as he pushed himself to his feet. He turned to me and twitched his head towards the door, gesturing for me to follow. I did so without question.

We left the overcrowded shack and crossed the camp to the other one, all the while Arthur was looking around the place.

"Quite a camp you've got here. I particularly liked the skulls on sticks over there, noticed 'em on the way in," he waved towards the entrance and I tutted at his dryness.

"Those were my idea, I thought they made the place look homey. I'm glad you like them," I smiled sweetly at him. He shook his head in amusement as we entered the other building, ducking out of the still pouring rain. The bucket was there as promised, sitting atop a storage crate next to a chair that had a fresh change of clothes hanging off the back, and Arthur's shaving kit on the seat.

Arthur immediately began to strip, kicking his soggy boots off then pulling his shirt open, not bothering to undo the buttons. A couple popped off. The thing was completely ruined anyway, so I didn't blame him. Even his union suit hadn't escaped the grime, blood and dirt caked that too, but it seemed salvageable so he actually took the time to unbutton it. He peeled it from his shoulders, with his back to me I could see bruises and scrapes mottling his skin, purples and pinks and faded greens. A lump formed in my throat and I closed the gap between us, finally allowing myself to wrap my arms around him.

I made him jump, and he froze for a moment before letting his hands come to rest on my arms where they wrapped around his front. I buried my face in his back – gently, to avoid pressing on any tender spots – smelling stagnant sweat, musk and sea on him but not caring one bit.

"I ain't bathed in weeks," he murmured ashamedly, but it didn't stop me.

"I don't care. I need this, just let me– I gotta hear your heartbeat for a while," I told him, turning my head and pressing my ear to the middle of his back. It was thrumming away in his chest, elevated but steady, there, undeniable. "I've been full of dread ever since I read about that boat going down."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all this," his voice was small.

"I'm sorry about what you went through! I don't care about how these weeks have been for me no more. All of that's gone by, you're back now."

"Baby, I wanna leave with you, get you away from this," he began, making my heart squeeze, though I sensed a but coming, "but we lost all the money we stole from the bank. Most of it's in the ocean."

"It's okay. It don't matter," I whispered, closing my eyes, "you're here."

After a moment I let go of him so he could finish getting undressed. He turned to face me before he did anything, pinching my chin and bringing me close for a slow, languid kiss that felt like everything was right again. His beard tickled me, even more so when he moved his mouth to my neck, pressing his lips to the puckered scar across my throat. I giggled and squirmed, and he moved back.

"I really gotta shave," he sighed with a grin.

"Come on," I whispered, reaching for his trousers, popping open the buttons as his breath hitched. I didn't mean to do anything inappropriate, so I quickly let go and allowed him to undress himself.

He dropped his pants and union suit together, getting completely naked without a hint of shyness in front of me. I watched and admired as he turned to the bucket and started washing himself, using the bar of soap Susan had provided to cut through the dirt and grime he was covered in. I ended up helping him, taking a soapy washcloth and scrubbing at those hard to reach spots in the middle of his back. He groaned when I rubbed circles into his shoulders, and I took some time to give him a little massage, loosening the muscles there.

I noticed that his bones were more prominent than they used to be, less cushion between them and his skin.

"You haven't been able to eat much, have you?" I mused to him softly. He hummed in acknowledgement.

"The only restaurant on the island did seafood, the boys and I never fancied it," he murmured. I resisted rolling my eyes at his sarcasm.

"What happened there?" I asked carefully. He sighed, pausing to scrub at his face and hair.

"Nothing good. We got captured, wrapped up in some bullshit with a sugar plantation owner and all the workers there. It's a long story, it ain't particularly interesting, either," he told me begrudgingly. I picked up on the hint that he didn't want to talk about it and stopped prodding.

Once I'd got his back clean, I put the washcloth back in the bucket and slipped away from him, allowing him to wash himself. I rounded him, crossing the room and leaning on a table up against the wall. I could see more bruises on his front, hiding beneath his chest and stomach hair and painting his skin a blotchy blue-green. He didn't seem to mind me staring, meeting my eyes across the room as he scrubbed the bar of soap up and down his arms, under his armpits. It was silent save for the sploshing of water and the pittering of droplets hitting the floor. The room seemed to grow smaller.

"Uh, how were things here? You all get out okay, no Pinkertons caught up with you?" He asked after a moment, then averted his eyes so he could bend over and give his hair a proper wash. It was shoulder length, by then.

"Yeah, we packed up when Abigail came back, figured we'd probably be moving. Then when Charles came back, Strauss mentioned this place. I showed Sadie and Charles the way, we ain't far from where I grew up. We cleared out the gang who lived here before," I told him, eyes dropping to the floor. I heard a splash and sensed him looking at me.

"We? As in you too?"

"Not… not really. I had to shoot one guy, he was going for Sadie," I told him. He let out a sad breath.

"You okay?" He asked.

I shrugged. "I had to do it. I gotta be okay."

"Don't worry. We'll get out of here soon, you won't have to do any of that no more," he assured me quietly, prompting me to look at him.

"You really still wanna go, after all that?"

"Especially after all that," he nodded, "Dutch is… well, he's starting to scare me a little."

"Why?"

"Killing folk… no good reason to," he mumbled, almost like he didn't really want me to hear it.

He finished washing up then turned to his shaving stuff, not bothering to dress first before he started trimming his beard to a manageable length. I didn't speak to him while he was working on it, not wanting to make him talk. He cut it back to a short stubble, turning his head back and forth in the mirror.

"What do you think; even this up or just shave the whole lot off?" He asked me. My mouth rose at the corner involuntarily.

"I always liked a little stubble on you," I told him, and with a nod he set to work trimming the hair more neatly, until it looked like a few days' growth, more like his usual self.

"How's that?" He asked, rubbing his hand over his jaw, feeling for inconsistencies. I smiled and crossed the room again, closing the distance between us and taking his chin in my hand, tilting his head from side to side to admire him from all angles.

"I think you're just perfect," I told him and he was flustered, turning pink in the cheeks. I slid my hand down, resting it on his chest, his heart thumping fast under my palm. "Kiss me, I gotta make sure it feels right, too."

He obliged instantly, pressing his mouth to mine, his lips working gently against mine as he turned his head. I opened my mouth to accept his tongue and moaned softly into his mouth, indulging in the familiarity of his taste. I'd missed him so much. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pressing myself up against him, getting my clothes damp from his skin in the process. His hands played at the back of my head, pushing through my hair. I trailed my hands up and down his bare back, fingertips sinking in just a touch, feeling the solidness of his muscles, the firmness of his being, revelling in his physical presence and his touch that I had missed so terribly.

We broke away panting, mouths touching as we shared breaths. I kept my eyes closed as I allowed the words to slip from me with an exhale. "I love you."

I felt Arthur go rigid in my arms, stopped feeling his breaths puff over my lips, his fingers stilling at the base of my skull. My heart sank and I didn't dare open my eyes. I'd longed to say those words to him in his absence and it felt so natural to tell him once he was back, I no longer had to fear the prospect of him never knowing how I felt about him, but I'd expected a different response. Perhaps even in my wildest dreams; to hear those words spoken back to me.

A sound something close to a hiccup came from Arthur and my eyes flashed open, I edged back a bit to see him better. His lips were pressed together and they trembled noticeably, his eyes were squeezed shut and his brow was heavily furrowed. I froze for a moment.

"Arthur?" I whispered, moving my hands to his face, cupping his cheeks. "What is it?" My voice shook.

It shocked me to see a tear roll down his cheek, followed by a sob that shook his chest and a stuttered, ragged breath sucked in through his teeth. He wrestled his way out of my hands and turned away, dragging his forearm across his eyes as he cleared his throat.

"Arthur, I'm sorry, I didn't mean– it's okay," I murmured, my arms limply reaching for him.

"No, I'm fine, I'm–" his voice was twice as gravelly as it usually was, like he was trying to hide the emotion in it.

"Look at me. Please. I shouldn't have said that, maybe it was too fast," I breathed, shaking my head, ignoring the shameful tears wanting to well in my eyes. My cheeks burned and I felt mortified. I had reduced the man to tears.

He turned to me, holding a reassuring hand towards me. "No! That's not– princess I– I don't know why I'm crying, I just couldn't– everything's so–" he stammered, unable to string a sentence together as the floodgates opened and more tears spilled down his cheeks.

"You've been through so much, I'd be more confused if you didn't shed a few tears," I admitted, realisation hitting me as everything flooded my mind at once. Just in the last couple of months he'd watched a man get drowned by Dutch then torn to shreds by an alligator. He'd barely escaped the law after a bank heist gone wrong during which he'd watched Hosea, the closest thing he had to a father, get killed right in front of him. Then he'd almost died in a shipwreck and washed up on an island where God only knows what further trials he'd been put through.

I wrapped my hand around his and pulled him towards me, throwing my arms around his shoulders and squeezing him into my chest. That seemed to pull the thread of his control until he unravelled, and he sobbed and shook and released everything. I shuffled us through the doorway into the other room, sitting us down on the bed. He hunched over and buried his face in my chest, so I combed my fingers through his wet hair and let him cry, pressing my wavering lips together and tried my damnedest not to join him. He needed me to be solid for him.

"I'm sorry," he told me through his tears and I made a quiet shushing sound.

"Don't be. It's okay, Arthur. It's okay, you need this," I whispered, looking down at him. My hand shook as it slid over the back of his head, down the nape of his neck before starting at his crown again.

"Ho-Hosea, and–" he managed to choke out, and that was it for me. I was crying too.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry," I told him, sniffing and blinking my blurry vision clear.

"I can't– I don't wanna do this–" he inhaled jerkily, choked on his own spit, I shushed him soothingly again.

"It's okay, breathe," I reminded him. Tucking his hair behind his ear, straining to bend down and kiss the top of his head.

"I can't do this!" His sob made the words come out loudly and my heart broke for him.

"Baby, you're okay. I've got you, you ain't gotta do nothing just now," I tried my hardest to bring him some comfort but I knew nothing I could say would erase his lifestyle, the things he'd seen and the things we both knew he would likely keep on seeing. "I love you so much," I told him, my fear over saying it dissolving after seeing him in such a vulnerable state. I hoped knowing that would bring him some semblance of comfort, even if he could not say it back. He was loved.

"I– I–" he choked, but each time he tried to speak he was interrupted by jerky inhales, and he gave up.

"Just relax, breathe, baby," I whispered, finding myself rocking from side to side a little as if I was soothing a baby or something.

It seemed to do something, though, because after a moment his breaths gradually slowed down, though they still came out stuttered. I whispered that I loved him over and over, relieved to feel him relaxing in my arms, eventually his breathing returned almost to normal, only hiccuping on his deeper breaths. He was soon quiet and still against my chest, and I kissed the top of his head again.

"You're okay," I repeated, too dumb to think of anything with more substance to say, but wanting him to know it.

We stayed like that for a long time, his face pressed between my breasts but in a way that felt the furthest thing from sexual. I continued to stroke his head, my hand travelling further down his back each time, my nails lightly tracing over his skin in a way I hoped felt nice. After a while, I felt him shift, moving to sit back up. He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes, dragged his arm across his nose and sniffed loudly and wetly.

"Okay?" I cooed gently, my hand against his upper back, tracing small circles. I waited patiently for him to say something, letting him go at his own pace.

"I'm– thank you. I got a little… overwhelmed. Sorry you had to see me like that," he finally said, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head.

"Don't apologise. I'm here for you, Arthur, don't be ashamed of having emotions," I reassured him, leaning over to kiss his shoulder.

"Thanks," he breathed, wiping away the remaining wetness on his face.

My shirt was damp from his tears – probably snot too – and I didn't mind. I felt glad that I could be there for him for such a release, everyone needed to cry once in a while. I dried my own eyes too, hiding the few tears that had escaped before Arthur could see them.

"When– when you said that… please don't think you upset me," he turned to look into my eyes, "when you said that, it made me real happy. For a second everything felt like it was perfect, and then I suddenly remembered everything else. The Pinkertons, Dutch, the money… Hosea," his eyes looked wet again but he blinked it back.

"Arthur," I breathed almost silently, tilting my head at him.

"All I want now is to be with you and to make you happy but it feels like everything else is always caving in, making it impossible. I just want you, that's what's important, I see that now clearer than ever and it just makes me feel so–" he shook his head, giving up on finding the right word– "that I can't just make it happen."

"Don't put that on yourself. I ain't expecting anything, things are more complicated now than they've ever been," I shook my head.

"My darlin', I'm sorry I never said, I couldn't do it while I was all snotty and foolish. I love you too," he sniffed, looking up at me. Hearing those words from him was all I could ever hope for, I felt something close to euphoria, goosebumps rose on my arms. "So much. I was so happy to hear you say it but everything just came to the surface, you know? Just tipped me over."

"Maybe I should've warned you," I murmured sheepishly and he let out a breathy laugh, his eyes shining.

"No, you did nothing wrong. You're perfect," he closed in on me, cupping my cheek and kissing me. He pulled back to murmur against my lips, "look at me, I'm a mess. Sittin' here crying with everything hangin' out. What do you see in me?"

"You're everything to me," I told him seriously, and he kissed me again.

"You're too good to me," he shook his head.

"You deserve so much love," I asserted, caressing his face. He closed his eyes and released a long, peaceful breath.

"It feels so good to be back, even in this hellhole of a swamp where everything constantly wants to eat you," he said, I wasn't sure if he was referring to the alligators or the bugs, or both. "I was terrified I'd never see you again."

"Me too," I nodded.

"I ain't ever had a worse few weeks, but seeing you again makes me feel like the luckiest man alive," he said, and I shook my head at the bold statement, especially considering the terrible luck that had plagued him recently.

I pressed my lips to his, wrapping my arms around his neck, leaning into him. My fingers threaded through his long hair, tightening in his locks, he groaned quietly against my lips when I pulled slightly to tilt his head more. We broke away breathless after a few moments, and Arthur's eyes dropped to my mouth.

"I should probably put my clothes on, 'case someone comes in," he said half-heartedly.

"I don't think anyone's coming. Probably think we're making up for lost time," I shrugged one shoulder, lips curling into an amused smirk. Arthur's eyes flickered up to mine at that, holding them for a few long seconds. Our communication was wordless, and he pulled me in for another kiss.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #atink #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic

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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years ago

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A Hero Among Us-Chapter One

On AO3

Chapter One

Claire pushed herself up from the mattress and wiped her nose. The skin was tender and burning from days on end of crying since her husband died. He was buried one week ago and her life had become intolerable, more so every day. The coalition of wine growers was circling around her like vultures waiting to pick her apart. They would buy her property at ten cents on the dollar or burn her out, and they did not care which.

Claire paced in front of the windows of her parlor looking at grapevines as far as the eye could see in every direction. This was Frank’s dream, not hers, and she knew little about viniculture and nothing about running a farm. He had died too quickly to tell her much, a feeling that left her boiling with resentment. “You hateful man, refusing to prepare for your death was a sure way to make me fail.”

Claire was raised in the upper class of London society and enjoyed a refined lifestyle and social status granted by her family’s wealth. When she married Frank Randall, the son of a prominent family, he brought her to America and sunk eighty percent of her dowry on this piece of land in St. Helena California. The remainder was used to build a fine house, vines, equipment for wine production and labor for the first planting. The law allows a widow’s dowry equal to one-third the original but it was all tied up in the dirt she now lived on.

She walked outside to clear her head and ambled down the rows of vines, inspecting the large leaves and berry clusters. She had no idea when the harvest should take place or how she would find anyone to help her. On numerous occasions, she rode into their tiny town and tried to hire the immigrants who were looking for work but they refused her. She scanned the three hundred acres of vines and felt utterly defeated.

Claire walked into the enormous kitchen where misses Crook stood kneading dough for bread. The opulence of this room and others made her choke with resentment. Everything Frank did was grandiose, a symbol of his position and wealth. Up to his death, he had not spent a nickel of his own money and knowing he was dying he had not made provisions for her support. Claire felt the bile rising in her stomach and tried to clear her head.

“Misses Crook, I am riding into town to buy a chicken, hopefully, two. We need eggs and the chicken we have must be laying in the vineyard because I cannot find a single egg.”

Two chickens were in a sack tied to Claire's saddle as she made her way home an hour later. She was lost in her thoughts allowing a group of men on horseback to surround her. She recognized them as landowners in the area who wanted to force her off her land. They were getting pushier with their demands and Claire bit her lip and remained quiet hoping they would leave. One of the men pulled the sac from her saddle and shook it, allowing the chickens to escape into the fields. The men laughed and raced away from her, one of them fired at the dirt in front of her horse making it rear in fright. Claire was unseated and hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of her. The horse galloped away.

Claire tried to pull air into her lungs and her restrictive corset made that impossible. She felt herself dying and panicked trying to reach the laces at the back. Just before she blacked out she felt strong hands pull her jacket back and an arm reach in to pull the upper laces. This continued until she could take a complete breath.

“There ye go lass, breathe deep and don’t try to get up yet. Yer safe for now. How far is yer home?”

“Not far.”

“Well, I ken that’s where yer horse is about now. Can ye get up yet?”

There was no ladylike way to pull this off she realized and accepted his hand to pull her up. She stood still until the dizziness was tolerable and then let go of his hand.

“Thank you, sir, you saved my life. I am very grateful. Have you seen two chickens running around? Those men let mine go and they are desperately needed.”

“If I had I would have eaten at least one, feathers and all, sorry to say. It’s been a few days for me mistress. Come, I will help ye home and then be on my way.”

Claire noticed the sun sinking into dusk and worried for her safety. She promised him some food and felt huge relief for the escort.

“I am Claire Randell, my vineyard is up ahead. And you are…”

“I am nobody named James Fraser. Pleased to meet ye, mistress.”

He explained how he came to America with the gold rush, funded by several tenants on his estate. He had worked tirelessly, however, he never found any gold before the money was gone. The only work was in the vineyards so he started walking.

“You poor man, I’m surprised you can even stand. Here I can walk faster, let’s hurry.”

Ladies in London don’t walk with purpose, they stroll, to let the world know they needn’t rush after anything. She fell into that pace quite naturally and now felt ashamed to force this huge man to take tiny steps.

“Come in James, let’s get you fed.”

Jamie looked at the huge house and started walking backward, looking in all directions.

“Thank ye, mistress, I will wait out here. Would ye like me to catch yer horse for ye? Is that him, grey dapple munching on some hardy vines?”

“Jesus Christ, yes, please catch her before she mows down an entire row!”

Jamie rushed into the barn and grabbed a scoop of grain to lure the beast away from the vines. He approached her speaking Gaelic just above a whisper as he held the scoop full of grain out to her. She startled at first, still scared from her gallop home but caught the scent of grain and changed her mind. Jamie kept talking to her stroking her neck and letting her nibble at the grain. She walked behind him to the barn and entered her stall gratefully. Her reward was the remainder of the scoop. Jamie looked around the impressive barn with four stalls for horses, hayloft above and storage space, a lot of it. Once he pulled the tack off the horse he returned to stand in front of the house.

Claire opened the door wide so the man could see misses Crook who ordered him to the table where his supper was getting cold. Jamie flew through the door not wanting to provoke this commanding woman. When he saw his meal he almost cried, there was so much there to eat!

Claire and misses Crook were not a minute behind him bringing their own meals to the table. Claire nearly dropped hers when she saw empty plates in from of the man. She looked under the table and on his lap and finally asked where his food went.

“Apologies mistress, I ate it.”

“Oh, let’s get you a little more then.”

She picked up his plate and returned a minute later with the plate piled high with dried beef, vegetables, potatoes, and bread. This plate would have fed her for an entire week but she wanted to demonstrate there was plenty of food here. While Jamie was catching Brimstone Claire ran into the kitchen and ordered misses Crook to make more food and quickly. She desperately wanted to hire this man to help her save the vineyard however she had little money to pay him. Until she sold the first harvest she would prove she could feed him.

“Do you mind if we join you, sir?”

Jamie shot up from his seat and bowed slightly saying it would be his honor. He looked around at the joining rooms, all large, sumptuously decorated and wondered where the lady’s husband was. He fancied the lady but kept his eyes down on his plate. She was speaking to him like it was a Sunday social which confused him. He decided misses Crook was her mother who referred to her daughter as, mistress. That was very odd. Why else would she be dining at the same table? Whenever possible he would look around him for the husband.

“Mister Fraser, may I speak to you about a proposition I have?”

“Of course, mistress.” Responding to her allowed him to look at her and he felt the air evacuate from his lungs requiring a spontaneous deep breath to restore him. He blushed and lowered his gaze.

“I would like to hire you, mister Fraser, to help me run the vineyard if you know anything about this type of farming. I have very little money but I will keep you fed and give you a cottage to live in that is safe and warm. I will also need help hiring workers when it’s time to harvest the grapes. Can you tell me what you know about vineyard management mister Fraser?”

“It isna time to pull the fruit yet, another three months for white and four months for the reds. You watch the sugars when the time is near, every day, early, at sunup. When the sugars rise you harvest the grapes as fast as possible. Extract the juice, add yeast, and put the juice in barrels to age for a few years. Or you take the fruit to the auction and sell it for the highest price possible.

Claire was stunned. In three minutes this man had summarized the answer to all her questions. The questions Frank refused to answer, to give her a fighting chance. Her eyes were wide staring at the strange man. When she could find her tongue again she spit out sentences without pre-thought and nearly gave him her complete life history. She was in a sense, begging for his help. After five minutes she closed her mouth, blushing fiercely at her lack of manners and feeling dread he would refuse her. She looked down at her lap.

“May I ask ye, where is yer husband?”

“Dead. Sorry, didn’t mean to skirt that issue.”

Jamie was too quiet for too long giving Claire the impression he would be leaving this very night. Try as she might to hold her tears at bay they spilled freely from her eyes and dropped into her lap. She held her linen napkin to her face in embarrassment and Jamie felt his heart melt at her sadness. She was so young, he realized, with a monumental task ahead she knew nothing about. Now that he knew she was a widow it clicked in his head that she is the landowner folks were talking about at nearly every post he passed. There was a general warning to stay away from her or face consequences. Jesus lass, yer in a hopeless mess and I wonder if ye even know it.

“Please mistress, dinna cry, I will help ye.”

Claire dropped her napkin and jerked her head toward him with wide red eyes. She smiled, and it lit up her entire face, the dining room, and the whole world that Jamie lived in. When he realized he was staring at her he dropped his gaze quickly.

“Come with me. Let us find you a suitable cabin to live in while you are here. There is one that is bigger than the others for the manager. That is you. Whatever you need for your home I will provide to the best of my ability. You have made all the difference in my life mister Fraser and I am so grateful. When we speak again, please be ready to discuss your compensation and the successful continuance of this vineyard. Do we sell the grapes or make wine, things like that.”

They were halfway to the cabins and she stopped abruptly and turned around. Her smile was radiant, her chest was heaving with excitement or exercise and her eyes latched onto his making his heart pound in his chest. “It has been a very long time, but I feel hopeful again. It is glorious!” She jumped up like a child playing and strode on toward the cabins.

“This is the biggest cabin and closest to the water pump. There are two buckets in each cabin and a small stack of towels. There is a small stack of firewood in the back and six enormous trunks that you are welcome to cut up. I believe the ax is sticking out of one of them.”

Jamie watched her in fascination. In their brief association, he had seen her get thrown from her horse, nearly pass out from her corset, cry with frustration at her horrible circumstances, and then brighten with relief. Through it all her impeccable manners and elegant carriage never wavered. He hated her, in general, for being British, for bowing to the monarchy that crushed his homeland. He would keep his distance and work hard for her. When the grapes were sold he would return to his home in Scotland.

When she bid him goodnight she hummed making her way back to the house. The sound made him feel happy. He closed the door to his cabin and put his back to it surveying the space that would be all his until the fall. It had been so long since he slept in a bed, had a fireplace for warmth, a door to lock, and fresh water right outside. He took deep breaths to lower his heart rate.

Jamie sat on his bed with a great sigh. The weeks of walking with little food or water had taken their toll, he was exhausted and the food was like a sedative in his stomach. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Muscles cramping, bladder painfully full, feet sweating from leather boots. Jamie rolled onto his back, momentarily confused about where he was. He remembered the night before and stumbled in the dark to the door. He walked quickly toward the back to relieve himself taking great gulps of cool crisp air. The sun’s rays were just breaking across the horizon and he watched as they raced across the land and eventually touched the grapes making them glow inside. He turned in a circle to survey the property and it was amazing. Aside from the level acreage, there were steep hills that were terraced with lines of vines. Perfect for the deep reds this region was known for.

Jamie owed his limited knowledge to the owner of the first Vineyard he worked for. The man took him under his wing when he saw what a hard worker he was. He taught him so much in the three months he was there. Jamie had enormous respect and gratitude for the man and felt his face turn hard and angry at the way it ended. He was run off the property when the wife was caught sneaking into Jamie’s hut. He had no idea she was there until he was yanked out of bed and run off the property in his bare feet. His boots and clothes were thrown at him like he was a common thief or the lowest human that lived. He started walking, shaking from the indignity, hurt pride, and sorrow for what the man thought now. Two weeks later he watched Claire get thrown from her horse. That was yesterday.

Jamie pumped water to wash his face and parts of his body he would dare. He felt better after that and walked the rows of vines inspecting for bugs and fungus. The plants looked remarkable. The Sassenach will have a very good harvest if they could just watch the sugars. The whole growing season came down to someone watching the Brix number which equates to the amount of sugar in the grape. Each type of grape was harvested at a different Brix rating. He had confidence the former husband had purchased a hydrometer. He would trouble misses Randell today for some paper to write all these facts down before he forgets.

Jamie was high in hills studying the plants when misses Crook came out with his breakfast. When she couldn’t get his attention she ran back for the bell. Jamie came down the slope at record speed making misses Crook put her hand to her mouth. The man must be part billy goat, she thought watching him.

“Here’s ye breakfast mister Fraser.”

“Yer Scottish misses Crook." How could he miss the burr his ears longed to hear? " How did you come to raise an English daughter?”

Jamie was so shocked at first he didn’t realize he watched the woman through slit eyes. He was very suspicious of this turn of events and thought to be on his guard.

“My daughter? Who might that be laddie?”

“Misses Randell.”

“No lad, I have managed the house of mister Randall for many years, and now I serve misses Randall in the same capacity.”

“How do you take yer meals with the mistress then?”

Misses Crook laughed and told him it was hard getting used to her unorthodox ways after her husband died. She would not be eating without misses Crook so she would either sit and eat or watch her wither away.

“They are British woman, how can ye serve them without poison?”

“Well, I ken it wasna mister and misses Randell that raised arms against the Scottish people or oppressed the traditions that were lost. A babe canna choose which country to be born in and ye’d do well to ken such.”

With that, she gave him a scalding look and walked away taking great strides to put distance between them. Jamie started out loving the sound of her burr and now he was just confused. Stay on task he decided, leave these wicked Brits to their own lives as they will perish in the fires of hell.

He inhaled his porridge and jumped back up the hill to continue his review of the plants. By lunchtime, he was done and beyond impressed with the hardiness and overall condition of the plants. He would have to ask the mistress where the vines were purchased.

For the rest of the day, Jamie went through each outbuilding to find what Randell had purchased for his wine business. There was twice the equipment he anticipated and wondered how shocked Randell was to be dying halfway through his first growing season. He was certain he suffered from that knowledge, why else would he not prepare his wife to take over in his absence. Jealousy, because she would live while he decayed in the ground. Wicked man Randell, glad yer dead. If Jamie had such a thought about anyone else, non-British, he would cross himself and asked forgiveness on the spot. Brits were not human to him and had no rights to decency or moral behavior. Like his father before him Jamie hated Brits.

The last building was locked so Jamie went to the house and knocked on the door. Claire pulled the big door open, walked outside, took his arm, and walked him back in. She led him to the dining room and told him to sit as lunch was being served. Jamie watched her help misses Crook bring plates of food to the table while she talked about her weird day.

“And then I turned around and there they were, looking at me like, well, where do we sleep? It was so odd but I am very happy we didn’t lose those birds and they are already fully feathered so just a few more months until we get eggs. Thank goodness.”

“Mister Fraser, why are you not eating. Are you ill?”

“Mistress?”

“You must eat so you can work hard and not fall over. C’mon, you cannot get up until all this food is gone.”

Jamie filled his plate while his mouth watered and his stomach growled. He was deliriously happy when there were plates of food in front of him, especially with the directive to clear them or be stuck there. He was very good at following orders, Claire and misses Crook watched him eat with widening eyes.

Jamie sat back with a happy contented look on his face that made Claire giggle. He smiled back at her despite his resolve not to. In fact, he would not extend any kindness to her at all now that he knew how badly she needed him. He shook his head at such ridiculous ideas. He could never be anything but nice and accommodating to her. She was a very special person. Fragile and vulnerable and…

“Mister Fraser!”

“Misses Crook?”

“Get about yer business!”

Jamie was looking around at the cleared table and absence of Claire. He must have been daydreaming and lost track. He was allowed to eat in the big house so he better be more conscious of his behavior while here.

“I came to the house for the key to the large outbuilding on the property. I am taking an inventory of equipment. Would you please ask misses Randell for it?”

Claire appeared a few minutes later and finished lacing up her boots before standing and announcing she was ready to go. Jamie walked toward her with a questioning look.

“Do ye plan to go with me, mistress?”

“I can’t wait to stretch my legs and have an adventure. Do you not want my company, sir?”

Jamie didn’t know how to respond to that so he motioned for her to go first and followed dutifully to the outbuilding. Claire opened the door and Jamie nearly fell over.

“By Christ, I had not expected so many barrels, and they’re new, can ye small the oak? What would make him purchase so much equipment if you dinna mind my askin.”

“He wanted my entire dowry sunk into this place so he kept spending until the money was gone I assume. Every acre, vine, outbuilding, house, barn, and all that is in them was purchased with my dowry.”

Jamie could not imagine how much money that would be or why her family would have to offer such for someone to marry her. She was so beautiful and cultured it was unfathomable to him. He looked at the neatly stacked rows of barrels and felt something strange in his stomach. It felt like excitement. What the hell was he excited about? He would help her put up a small portion of the harvest and set it to aging in one or two of the barrels, but for him to get back to Scotland the majority of the grapes would have to be sold.

He felt strange when Claire was nearby and decided solitude was best. He would speak to misses Crook about taking his meals outside, away from the prettiest eyes he had ever seen and away from his need to make her smile.

Jamie looked through piles of equipment and pulled out a hydrometer followed by a genuine smile.

“We have everything we need, well almost. Misses Randell, I need to tell ye somethin. Word has spread around these parts that no one is to work for you. Anyone who does will pay consequences.”

Jamie watched Claire’s face fall into sadness and he ached for her. He thought of only one way to ensure they had enough hands for the harvest but they had to act fast. Some of the men would be walkin.

“I don’t know how much ye know about Scots mistress but we dinna sit well with intimidation. If ye tell a Scot not to sit on that rock or pay consequences the first thing he’ll do is go sit on that rock. Ye ken? Ye need Scots to work the harvest and they’re aplenty in San Francisco but ye have to act fast. Can ye write to the paper there and place an add for Scottish immigrants who want to work? No tellin how long it will take them to get up here and ye may have to feed a number of men long before the harvest but I dinna think ye can hire workers that have been bullied by the coalition.”

Claire was pacing with hands on her hips. She was deep in thought giving Jamie some precious moments to look at her.

“These men cannot be intimidated you say?”

“Aye.”

“I trust you mister Fraser, implicitly. I will go write that letter and pray they come.”

She handed him the key to the outbuilding and turned in a swirl of skirts heading for the house. He had that feeling in his stomach again and grunted in disgust before returning to the plants to start pulling leaves.

By mid-afternoon, Jamie was lost in his thoughts pulling leaves from around the berry clusters to increase the sun that hit them. Large crowded clusters were thinned by dragging his hand down knocking the grapes off. It was California growers who first started thinning the clusters to push more robust flavors into those that matured. When he heard Claire’s voice he almost jumped out of his skin.

“I’m sorry mister Fraser,” she said giggling.

“It doesna sound like it mistress,” he said smiling at her.

“What are you doing?”

“Ye see how big this leaf is? If there are too many around the cluster the sun canna get to the berries and the sugar will suffer. Ye need to leave the very top leaves to protect the cluster from the mid-day sun, but the sides should be free of shade for morning and afternoon sun, see?”

“Why are you knocking grapes to the ground?”

“That is to thin the clusters for the robust flavor this region is known for.”

“I am so grateful to you mister Fraser for teaching me!”

She put her hand on his arm and seemed unaware she was doing so. Jamie didn’t move a muscle and hoped for a few more seconds of contact before she let go. She walked away smiling and he wished she never had to leave him.

“Like this?”

Jamie turned around to see Claire on her second vine. She indicated her handy work for him to check and he smiled at her.

“That’s perfect. Look at yer hands mistress, maybe rub your fingers across yer cheek. They are soft are they nae?” He watched her nod her head. “If ye keep doing that yer fingers will feel like this.”

Jamie rubbed his rough fingers across her cheek making her blush fiercely. She turned her back to him and continued working on the leaves.

“I doubt my fingers could ever feel so rough mister Fraser so I intend to continue this work for ten more plants.”

Jamie was in his head after touching Claire. Canna you see what ye do to me lass, he thought. Ye get my head thinkin impossible things, my guts shake with anticipation of somethin that will never be, and when ye touch my arm I canna move, in fact, I can barely breathe. So please go away. Just when he thought the situation could not get any worse, it did. She started humming.

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