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gallifreygod · 3 years ago

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ten cardinal rules - joe fox / kathleen kelly

tags + warnings: light angst, domestic fluff, enemies to lovers (prev.), romance, implied sexual content, canon compliant, pregnancy scare, funeral mention (no main character death), engagement

pairing: joe fox / kathleen kelly - you've got mail rated: M (for implied sexual content) read on ao3 or below the cut gif: made by me dividers: here x wc: 2.89k

There were a few things that Kathleen Kelly learned about herself and her new relationship in the first few months of officially dating Joe Fox. However, it became a cardinal rule to understand ten specific things about herself and Joe.

I - There would never be anyone else.

Yes, it felt premature to say that. And yes, she thought the same thing about NY152 before she learned that NY152 was actually Joe. However, this is different.

This is shaky ground that became solid. Two people who truly didn’t have a chance in hell of making it actually fell together perfectly. And she had never been so happy to be wrong about the fact that nobody would ever remember him. That he was not just a suit. He was Joe, her Joe. Even with all of the troubles life had thrown on their adjoining track, it was an interesting life to be with him.

Even when there wasn’t supposed to be anyone other than NY152, there was Joe. There was always Joe. A man who infuriated her to the point that it lit her nerves on fire. In every bad way and good. There would never be anyone else who could have that same affect on her.

And had NY152 been anyone else, it still would’ve always been Joe.

II - She appreciates that he isn’t a stereotype.

She finds herself feeling guilty for assuming so much about him. The poor sad multimillionaire. He probably had a limo waiting for him at any turn. He probably had maids and servants too.

But he didn’t. He wasn’t his father. That was important to him, she learned. Joe Fox was not his father. His father who used toxicity and barely legal women to hide the fact that his biggest fear was a cold and empty bed. Joe on the other hand wanted less for the spoils of wealth and more for the experience of life. He may be ambitious like Nelson, but Joe was his own person. A very different person.

She even appreciates the little things about him that make him different from the stereotypes. No limo, he walks to work. He walks his own dog and cleans up after himself rather than leaving his messes for someone living paycheck to paycheck. The wealth never ate him up as it did most people. Without his ability to remain down to earth despite his bank account, she wasn’t sure if they’d ever be able to make it.

III - Even with the closing of her store leaving her feeling dead inside, he makes her feel alive.

It was unlike Kathleen Kelly to admit something as dark as feeling hollow within herself. So, she kept the darkest parts to herself. Most people could see that losing her livelihood - her store - was crushing. But most also saw the tenacity inside of her to keep going. Some days, she didn’t see that in herself.

But if anything brought her back to life, it was love. Maybe not Joe himself because that would be too sappy even for her. But learning new things every day about a man she thought she could guess everything about brings her a sense of joy she has been unfamiliar with. She thought that she knew there was nothing to him but a dollar sign. She was so wrong. And being wrong about him made her crave the feeling of learning what she was wrong about.

He doesn’t like playing dress up to rub elbows with whoever is popular in town at the fanciest event. He prefers a Heineken to a bottle of champagne. He’s actually read quite a bit of her favorite books before she’s even mentioned them to him.

And unlike most people in his world, he doesn’t say no to all of the things he wants to say yes to.

IV - His touch is soft, but she knew that already.

A lot of storybook romances talk about how the passion and intimacy between two helplessly in love people is electric. It’s on fire and it’s undeniably incomparable to anything else. She never bought into that. There was that one high school boyfriend during her rebel phase who didn’t exactly leave her wanting more. There was Frank, it was nice to be with him but there was never any toe curling fireworks going on under the sheets.

Then came Joe. And she wanted to beat herself over the head for realizing it but those books were right. She hates that they were right - they shouldn’t have been. But when two people who are meant to love each other do, there’s nothing like it.

His touch is soft and it’s always in the right places. He knows every inch of her body and he knows it well. Sometimes she thinks he may have memorized it too. When she’s with him, time passes perfectly. And those awkward moments that inevitably come in every relationship between the sheets, they don’t stay awkward. Not for long at least. Now that she can laugh and not feel horribly self conscious or off putting. She realizes that he’s there to love her, not be with her out of the obligatory “you’re over 30, time to settle down” nonsense. He’s with her to be with her, not to be with a body that can bring him 15 minutes of oxytocin.

His touch is soft even in the times where hers isn’t. Even when her nails have left red trails down his back, he’s careful with her. He knows she won’t break, she’s not fragile. But he touches her softly because it allows him to admire her even more when she’s not the one being soft.

And yes, toe curling fireworks. For the first time in her life, she feels it. And she never wants to stop feeling it.

V - They do argue about what movies to watch.

Even though she said they would never, they do. And it’s the only arguing they ever do. That much he was right about. She doesn’t wanna watch The Godfather again and he doesn’t want to see Little Women on his screen every freaking Friday night. But the argument ends in laughter as almost all of their little tiffs do. That’s right, she has learned to laugh with Joe Fox. She has learned that his little quirks are worth grinning over. Not fighting. That he is a man full of faults but she is in love with that man so the faults are worth loving too.

VI - Joe Fox was a good man.

One of the biggest tribulations they faced somewhat early in their relationship was the death of his grandfather. Her heart broke for him when she saw how devastated he was over the loss of Schuyler. Watching him fight back tears while carrying out his pallbearer duties, even her own tears couldn’t be held back from that. Her heart clenched when she saw him sit down in the pew beside her, pull out the daisy embroidered handkerchief from his pocket and wipe his own tears.

Despite being heartbroken and just a little angry at the world, he took on a more important mission in life: Annabelle. It was hard seeing Joe cry, but seeing the absolute gutting of a little girl who just lost her dad was even harder. Joe made it a priority to put Annabelle first for a while, someone had to. She began staying a few days out of the week at Joe’s - especially when Kathleen was there. If anyone understood the crippling pain of losing a parent, it was Kathleen.

And it was an absolute honor to sit beside him each night as they read her bedtime stories. They’d both take turns reading aloud the pages in funny voices just for her. Or how before anyone was awake, Joe would be in the kitchen making pancakes with whipped cream smiley faces on them just to make her laugh. He sang along her favorite songs with her, did up the guest room in his apartment in all of her favorite colors, and watched her favorite movies.

As each day passed with Annabelle under their roof, Kathleen realized that Joe was so much more than a person who “bought” his way into a child’s heart. He earned his place there, fought for it. Over time, the twinge in her heart wasn’t from seeing Joe so sad, it was changing into something that came by seeing what he would look like as a father.

VII - Even in fear, he handles situations with grace.

Speaking of being a father, there was a time. A fluke or a scare, whatever it may have been. But there was one solid week where Kathleen walked around with a pit in her stomach. She was late… too late for her liking. She had tried to keep it to herself, but Joe knew her and he knew something was wrong.

He had gotten it out of her eventually, breaking down her walls and encouraging her to just talk to him about whatever was on her mind. It was one of those times in their relationship where she wished it could be sent over an email like old times - back when she wouldn’t have to face his reaction. But his reaction was what made it special. Even though it was all for naught.

Scared, worried, fairly new into their relationship, he had taken her hand and promised it would all be okay. There was no running away or freaking out. He was exactly who she needed him to be in that moment: a rock for her to anchor herself to.

The test was negative and her period came a few days later, but even that was a whole other ballpark of emotions. Somewhere inside of her, she was sad that it was negative. And somewhere inside of him, he was too. Obviously the timing was way off and bringing a baby into the world this early in their relationship would’ve been frightening…but the idea of raising a family together had stirred up a cloud of imaginary scenarios in their heads.

Even then, when she became teary eyed over that negative result, he held her. He held her when she was happy or sad or scared. He didn’t try to downplay what she felt - given he was feeling it too. He didn’t tell her how it was actually a good thing that they weren’t pregnant. He listened. He nodded and agreed when she explained that despite not being ready to be a parent, she wasn’t ready to lose the idea just yet. He brushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and promised her that the day would come.

And it would… some day.

VIII - Brinkley.

Brinkley fell in love with Kathleen just about as fast as Joe did. They always said dogs were great judges of character, and she liked to believe that Brinkley somehow knew that Kathleen was the person he had watched his owner write to for all of that time.

Joe won’t ever say it out loud, mostly because they don’t discuss Frank or Patricia, but Brinkley couldn’t stand Patricia. If Methamphetamines had a personality, it would be Patricia. Brinkley, however, had a preference for someone who took life easy. Which is why Joe suddenly had to compete for his own dog’s attention now that Kathleen was in his life. The sweetest moment had to be when Kathleen had officially bought a little food and water dish, and even his own bed just for her apartment. Many movie nights ended with the gigantic non-lap dog in her lap, drooling softly as she rubbed behind his ears.

Kathleen had never had a dog before. There was a cat, once upon a time when she was a little girl. Oh, her mother adored that cat. Pinky was her name, she was skinny and brown and a lover of napping in the sunlight. Kathleen never thought about having a dog, she always assumed that a companion she would choose would be a cat.

But she also never thought a companion she would choose would be Joe Fox either… life throws curveballs and Brinkley is a little too lazy to catch them. He’d rather snuggle with Kathleen.

VIX - The shock of telling people about her relationship would never get old.

In some ways, she felt like a traitor. She knew she wasn’t, that just couldn’t be possible if you knew her. But having to tell the people she cared about most that she was in love with Joe Fox, that was terrifying.

First was Birdie. And of course, Birdie’s response was “I already knew that!”

Kathleen’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. Of course she did. She’s Birdie, she knows everything. The woman who has lived about a thousand lifetimes packed into one. Out of all of the things Birdie would know, Kathleen should’ve seen this coming.

How did she know? “Well when you told me his screen name, I looked up the 152 address! I might be old but I do know how to find someone!”

Birdie wasn’t angry. In fact, both Joe and Kathleen had a sneaking suspicion that somehow, Birdie had been involved in getting them together. They’d never really know though, and they didn’t want to.

Christina was a little more difficult to tell.

The usual expressionless face had fallen into a slack jaw and raised eyebrows. “He’s email guy?” she drawled out. “Joe Fox, the grinch who stole Christmas, is email guy?”

“Well…” Kathleen had pushed her food around on her plate. “At least it wasn’t the rooftop killer.”

“Oh my god, Kathleen. This means he didn’t stand you up! Does this mean you two are like… dating?”

A small smile formed on Kathleen’s lips. “Yes, yes it does.”

“Well I should hate the bastard for forcing me to move out to Brooklyn but you’re blushing so hard it’s kinda difficult to stay angry.”

Then there was George. Oh, George.

“You know, I should’ve known. I really should’ve because he did not shut up about you from the moment I started working there. Every day he asked about you and I always just thought it was guilt.”

Kathleen had laughed at that.

X - She said yes.

It may have seemed like a horrible thing to think, but Kathleen had realized how much she had gained after losing her mother’s shop. Of course it was everything she had once held dear to her, but so was Joe. It took time to learn that her mother’s memory wasn’t just in the shop, it was in her - everywhere she went. Believing that her mother was only with her in the store was an insult to the memory of her. And she had also come to realize that if her mother were still here, she would’ve wanted Kathleen to be happy.

It was the Shop Around the Corner, or it was a chance at true love and a new life with a man who meant the world to her. Even though the choice was made for her, she knows she wouldn’t have had the courage to make that decision on her own. Losing her mother’s store was like losing her mother all over again, but a new lease on life is something her mother would’ve admired.

She knows now that she could never have both. She got lucky enough when she found out that the two loves of her life were the same person and no sacrificing one of them was necessary. She couldn’t have everything, but she had close to it. She had a loving relationship, a beautiful future, a chance at a new career, and her mother’s legacy inside of her heart.

She didn’t want to ever think that being with a man would be more important than having her mother’s shop, but when it came down to it, she had been stagnating. Her life had stalled out at the shop, she didn’t have the bravery to decide what she actually wanted. At least not without a boatload of guilt. She would’ve never been able to ask herself what she wanted in life. She would’ve never ventured out to write her books. And she would’ve continued seeing things in life that reminded her of a book, not the other way around like it should’ve been.

Her mother would’ve wanted her to move on. To find love and make her life her own. Her mother would’ve brushed away her tears and told her to chase her heart, not her obligations. Because the truth is, her love story was astounding. It was magical and full of every emotion under the sun. And she’d be damned if she didn’t admit her life was now beyond fulfilling. Not just fulfilling her mother’s legacy, but to her own.

So when Joe Fox had gotten down on one knee in Riverside Park where he had first kissed her as his whole self, she realized one very important truth: She had forgiven him long ago. And she knew that her mother was smiling down on her with pride.

Exactly one year to the day, with the flowers blooming around them, a bouquet of daisies in one hand and a ring in the other, he asked her.

“How about coffee every morning, dinner every night, and a movie every Friday… for as long as we both shall live?”

#abigail writes #kathleen kelly #joe fox #kathleen kelly/joe fox #kathleen kelly x joe fox #you've got mail #meg ryan #tom hanks #nora ephron #the shop around the corner #fox books

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loosesodamarble · 3 years ago

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☕️ fashion in your favorite series (plural)

Hello there, anon!

And oh boy is that a topic!

I think I should start with the fact that I know basically nothing about fashion. I basically only wear jeans, t-shirts, and occasionally blouses day-to-day and my fanciest clothes are Sunday best.

But onto the actual fashion.

I think my favorite series with the best fashion sense would have to be Avatar: the Last Airbender. The clothes come from various Asian cultures and are so aesthetically pleasing. And while not 100% practical, they are not illogical fashion choices.

(Sorry about the different in quality. Couldn't be helped.)

I mean, look at their fits! Color consistency with characters from the same nation. Blues and grays for the Water Tribe. Warm tones (mostly red but pink in Ty Lee's case) and black for Fire Nation. While Earth Kingdom and Air Nomad both share yellow, at least between Toph and Aang, the saturation/shade is different. Aang's yellow and orange aren't overwhelmingly bright shades and the brown on his outfit provides a neutral shade to bring it all together.

Seriously, Avatar has some amazing fashion!

.....

Another series with good fashion sense, though more for symbolism, is Demon Slayer.

With Demon Slayer 99% of the time, the characters are all in uniform with just haoris or capes to distinguish them. Still, the patterns that they wear on their clothes sets them apart.

https://olafolsson.com/blogs/blog-1/wagara-traditional-japanese-patterns-and-designs

This blog post explains a few types of designs/patterns used in Japanese clothing. Nezuko's kimono has a hemp leaf pattern which represents protection from evil spirits, which she both gives to the defenseless and receives from Tanjirou. Tanjirou's checkered haori carries meaning such as "prosperity for descendants" which make sense since the checkered pattern has been with the Kamado family since Sumiyoshi and the siblings do manage to have their own descendants.

Inosuke may not wear a haori but he wears different types of fur.

Boars are wild and stubborn. Bears are strong and sturdy. Deer are beautiful and nimble. All those words can be used to describe Inosuke as well.

The clothes in Demon Slayer may not have a lot of variety but the meaning behind what the characters do wear shouldn't be ignored.

.....

My Hero Academia's fashion is fine. I mean, the U.A. uniforms do give an air of sophistication with the button-ups and jackets. Although there are still the unrealistically short skirts. And when the characters are shown in street clothes, the outfits are varied and some are quite pleasing in my opinion.

Personal favorites are Itsuka and Hitoshi's because they're simple with little flares like the collar or stripes. Shows that they don't put too much thought into their outfits but still put effort into it.

(And yes, I am just using this as an opportunity to show off that I have manga in the original Japanese.)

I won't really talk about the Hero costumes because that's a whole other can of worms that's strongly influenced by the characters' desire to be flashy and marketable. Practicality isn't considered that much from what I can tell. I will say this though: none of the students' costumes are good (aesthetically, practically, or even both) when you take a real close look at them. I think the adults are better, though not perfect.

.....

Black Clover is... One of the servers I'm in has a channel called "fashion police" for a reason. In this medieval fantasy setting, the fantasy is turned up all the way while medieval is low.

Just look at the Black Bulls.

Lightning round.

-Henry's in his pajamas, enough said. -Gordon is in some military uniform that we don't see anywhere else. -Yami's dressed like a bum. -The pads on Gauche's elbows and knees distract me and the lines on his pants and boots?! -Zora is basically Eijirou's Hero costume but worse (and there are already problems with that). -Finral is fine for the most but I think the boots need adjusting. -Vanessa's issue is that it's so much of one color (yes the hat ribbon and grimoire bag add another color but I personally feel like it isn't enough). -I think I have a shirt exactly like Luck's which isn't a good sign and his grimoire bag's placement also deducts points. -Noelle's outfit is illogical and inappropriate for her age. -Grey's is sensible for the most part (like how the shoe straps match the belt) but I think the divide of blue and white should be lower, maybe at stomach level. -Secre is in a ballet dress and could use shoes and a couple accessories to make her design less barren. -Charmy dresses like a grade schooler and it suits her size but, eh, I think a cute blouse could work too. -And although Nacht isn't pictured above, I have a slight issue with all his belts and that stupid high collar.

I think Magna and Asta (pre-Heart Kingdom training. Post-Heart makes me a sad mama) have the best outfits. They've got simple outfits with little details that prevent them from being completely plain. And honestly, I could see real people wearing those fits.

And it's not just them!

I mean! Why are there holes in Solid and Nozel's pants? Where are Noelle's pants?! Why do all the older siblings have such crusty looking hair?! Why do the fire Vermillions all wearing the same thing (seriously aside from jacket lengths and shoes styles, they are all wearing the same thing)?! Why can't the Golden Dawn have consistent cape colors?! Charlotte's breastplate and helmet make no sense and Sol's outfit is barely existent!

.....

Whew, I think I burned myself out with that one! Didn't think I'd go so hard, especially at the end. I legitimately surprised myself with that.

Hopefully you don't find my ranting too off-putting, anon. I just put all my thoughts out where without much of a filter.

#questions from the ask box #soda asides #avatar the last airbender #demon slayer #my hero academia #black clover #long post #sorry for an essay of a response anon #this question just ignited something in me #and i thank you for that whoever you are

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i-write-boop-spoops · 3 years ago

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BIRTHDAY?!? HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOOPY!! Welcome to Leon and Steven making a birthday cake headcannons!

Leon oh bless his heart he is trying SO HARD god bless

There’s cake batter everywhere. I mean everywhere. The floor the ceiling (how did he manage that??) the cupboards the counter

He has 4 separate bowls. Why does he have 4 separate bowls.

He has an apron on and his hair tied back and he is stirring FURIOUSLY at the batter and reading the instructions every 4 seconds.

It’s a mess but he’s trying just SO HARD and keeps licking thee raw batter to make sure it tastes good

Somehow he successfully bakes this cake, frosts it in your favorite color and puts just a few too many candles

It tastes good! (He is SO relieved)

He puts frosting on his lip and asks for a kiss (what a dork)

Steven has this down to a science…at least he thinks

He doesn’t often bake so he’s REALLY trying

A nice and tidy kitchen, he’s using a recipe and is just CONVINCED you need the fanciest cake that’ll take 3 days to make with 30 separate ingredients

He’s never used a piping bag in his life but god help him he’s gonna try today

Takes small licks of the batter to make sure it tastes good.

This cake is going to be SO FANCY he has convinced himself a 3 tiered cake is the way to go today

2 of the 3 tiers come out good…the third is….a little lopsided

Once it’s frosted it looks fine! …..If you squint.

He tries to pipe “happy birthday!” On it and also tires to make decorative frosting art

It looks…good for the first attempt

It’s delicious! We applaud him for this!

Why is there rock candy in the cake???

Because “it’s like mining for gemstones in the cake!”

Adorable, yes, but the crunchy cake is certainly something unique

He does have flour on his suit after this

-🌱

Thank you so much!!!!

This was fucking brilliant and hilarious! Genuinely, you should start a headcanon blog if you haven’t already, these were good! And my inner-baker was sweating reading this omg, luckily everything worked out!

I can imagine though, since Steven is “culinarily-challenged”, that the cake he makes is not the nicest, so I see his S/O politely eat a little and appreciates his efforts, but he realises it’s not the best, so he suggests they go out to a local bakery and have a lovely cake there lol

Thanks again 🌱!

#🌱 anon #your headcanons!

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accioxreparo · 4 years ago

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the Talk | g.w.

part one // baby fever | part two // the Talk

synopsis: You and George did everything young. It was only fitting that you two talk about having kids when you did.

pairing: George Weasley x reader

warnings: brief mentions of the war, a touch of angst but mostly fluff

a/n: wow this is ended up being so much longer than originally planned. I really wanted to get in more backstory though so here we are. Let me know what you guys think about the format cause...I kinda like this little hybrid thing?

~~~~~~

You and George did everything young.

You had just turned 13 years old when the two of you went on your first date.

It was the summer before your third year and the two of you snuck out one night to go to a festival happening in a neighboring muggle town. You still have the moon shaped necklace George had bought you that day. He still has the sun shaped one you bought him. The gifts weren’t planned but it was the first time you saw how truly perfect the two of you were together.

You had your first kiss a few weeks later the day you returned to Hogwarts. It was in one of the courtyards and there was nobody else around. Now the details of it were a little fuzzy but you could still remember the awkwardness of it all.

The first time you talked about getting married was at 16.

It was more playful than anything else. You’d both drunk just a bit too much firewhiskey during the post-Yule Ball party thrown in one of the abandoned rooms. You’d toppled over together on one of the couches in the common room and you found yourself giggling when you saw how George was staring at you. “What are you thinking about?”

He had pulled you on top of him, resting his hands on your hips as he peppered kisses all over your face. Finally he pressed a soft kiss on your lips and gave you a dopey sort of grin.

“About how pretty you look. And about how one day we’re going to be dancing just like we did today but you’ll be wearing this huge, puffy white dress that you can’t stand but that you wore because my mum said you looked like a princess in it. And I’ll be wearing my fanciest dress robes or maybe a normal suit. Either way it won’t matter because I won’t look anywhere near as good as you will.”

You had smiled and kissed him again, a little longer this time. When you pulled away your forehead rested on his and you both had to resist the urge to just forget the conversation and continue the kiss. “That’s a wedding you’re talking about, Georgie.”

“I know,” He had said it with complete ease. “We’re going to have one of those for us one day.”

It was only a few months later, now at the age of 17, when George decided he was going to ask you to marry him for real.

Ever since the end of the Triwizard tournament he’d been filled with this nauseating feeling that nothing, absolutely nothing at all, was guaranteed.

The events of that day were stuck in his mind. He could remember the feeling of you shaking in his arms as you cried upon finding out Cedric had died. He could remember being confused at your reaction until you told him the two of you had been friends once but you couldn’t remember the last time you had a real conversation with him

It was with a completely clear mind that he got out of bed at precisely 6:21 AM and wandered through the house until he found his mother sitting at the kitchen table reading the newest edition of the Daily Prophet.

“Can I talk to you?” George had asked before she got the chance to say anything.

Molly had immediately grown concerned by the much too serious look on his face. Not to mention the fact that he’d never once asked a question like that. Nonetheless she still put down the paper, smiled softly, and put her full attention on him. “Absolutely, dear.”

“What if I,” George had avoided all eye contact, instead focusing on fiddling with the hem of his shirt, one he’d only just stolen back from you. The thought made him smile, giving him the courage he needed to finish asking his question. “What if I asked Y/N to marry me?”

That definitely hadn’t been what Molly was expecting him to say. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t see it coming though. For six years now she’d seen the way he was around you. For four years you’d been tied at the hip, bringing out the best in each other. This felt like just the right step. “Well you’re both of age now if that’s what you want to do.”

“But what do you think about it?” That was the part he was really nervous for. “I don’t want to wait any longer. After everything that happened this year I just want something I know is good and real. Something that,” His voice is softer then, more vulnerable. It surprises even himself. “Something that nobody else can take away from me.”

And Molly understands completely. She’s been there before, seen all of this happen once already. There’s not a single part of her that wants to argue because she trusts and believes in both him and you wholeheartedly.

So she gently rests a hand on top of George’s, which are still pulling at his shirt, and he looks up to see her smiling at him. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

He asked you that same night.

He actually didn’t even make it halfway through breakfast before telling Fred, Ron, and Ginny, all of whom were completely ecstatic. They loved you after all.

The four of them had been bouncing ideas off each other all day long while Molly had disappeared into the attic to dig through a bunch of boxes, not telling any of them what she was looking for.

They’ve got no less than five different speeches and approaches planned by the time Arthur gets home from work. Nobody can get the news out fast enough and though he’s a little surprised, he expresses his own joy at the news. He helps them brainstorm and soon they have a sixth plan thought out.

“When are you gonna do it then?” Ginny is the one who asked excitedly. “Don’t know. Soon I guess,” George glances at the time and stands up. “Actually supposed to meet her at some place in London in a few.”

He disappeared up the stairs to find where he left the address you’d given him and just as he’s found it Molly walks into the room.

She hands him the object she’d been searching for. A ring with a diamond in the middle and golden flowers laced all around the band. One she says has been passed down through the Prewett family for as long as anyone can remember.

He takes it with a soft thank you and a smile telling her it’s perfect as he pockets it, too afraid to leave it lying around.

When he gets to the address you gave him he’s a little surprised when he finds you sitting on the sidewalk with a book in your hands. It’s with an amused grin that you pull out your wand and before he knows it a building is appearing out of nowhere. You tell him it’s 12 Grimmauld Place, the House of Black, and that’s where you’ve been for a few days now helping Sirius, Remus, and Tonks fix it up

The entire time he’s there, exploring the rooms and wandering the halls beside you, the ring lies in his pocket and it feels heavy, as if reminding him it’s there.

He actually didn’t mean to ask you when he did.

You were right there though and the ring was in his pocket and he couldn’t think of anything else.

You were both curled up on the couch in the living room. There was that familiar light, a glint in your eyes that he absolutely adored seeing and you were telling him a story about what had happened the day before while at Tonks place with a huge smile on your face and he just couldn’t help himself.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked him again when you found him staring at you, much like that night just a few months ago. This time, though, you were both completely clear headed.

“About how I want to ask you to marry me.”

That caught your attention. Almost immediately you felt butterflies grow in your stomach and slowly you sat up, turning to face him. George was completely serious. You were at a strange loss for words. “You - I - what?”

He gave a soft laugh at the confused look on your face and sat up himself, pulling the ring out of his pocket as he did so.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know what to feel because after the tournament it's like every moment is fleeting. Everything suddenly feels temporary and that scares me. There’s only one thing I do know and that’s that I don’t want this, us, to be temporary. Every single thing that I feel for you, that’s all real. It always has been. I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me, I’ve never been more certain of anything else in my life. Will you marry me, Y/N?”

“I-” You’re at a loss for words and also painfully aware of three very shocked people standing in the doorway of the room. Despite the surprise you know your answer right away. You’re absolutely positive this is what you want too. “Yes.”

George hadn’t been planning to ask then and he hadn’t really thought of how he would react. So he can’t help but be happily surprised when you agree. “What?”

“Yes, you tosser,” You laugh and happily kiss him, effectively bringing him back down to earth, though he swears he’s still dreaming. It seems too good to be true. “I’ll marry you.”

The memory of you two getting engaged isn’t just of you two in the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place. It’s also of Sirius and Tonks shouting and jumping around in excitement before either of you can get another word out and of Remus scolding them both about ruining your moment.

It’s your favorite memory of them.

Especially because less than a year later, still at only 17, just a couple days before your birthday and a month before you’re to be married, Sirius died.

He was perhaps one of the only people you had never once doubted. All it took was you giving him wide, puppy dog eyes and he was immediately rendered incapable of lying to you, a fact even he found amusing.

He and Remus were both named your godfathers for a reason and you knew that very well. Even as a child you would brave the halls of Azkaban just to go see him no matter how much Remus didn’t want you to. He couldn’t argue with you, though, because he always ended up giving in much too easily.

You trusted Sirius with your life and he’d wasted too many years inside that prison and maybe that was why you had asked him to walk you down the aisle. To remind him of what was good and pure and happy.

He never got that reminder. Instead you were burying him the weekend after your birthday.

George had been at a loss about how to comfort you over Cedric’s death and he was at an even bigger loss now. He himself had grown rather close to Sirius over the last few months while spending late nights awake with the two of you and struggled to deal with the news of his death alongside you.

You guys have a strong support system though. There’s never a moment either of you is alone and you know that. It hurts to have to move on but you do.

If anything you’re more certain than ever before that this, your wedding, marrying George is exactly what you want.

So you do it. At 18, a month after the date you had originally planned, you and George get married.

It happens in the large backyard of the cottage you’d grown up in with Remus. It’s late summer and the tree in the backyard is covered in blossoms and you could not have imagined a more perfect place to have your wedding.

The ceremony and reception were meant to be small and intimate and they are but they also end up more extravagant than you could’ve imagined. You find out as all the decor and outfits and food is arriving that Sirius had taken the liberty of getting you and George only the absolute best.

You’re sure you’re handling the last surprise you have from him well until the day before the wedding. You’re in the backyard alongside Molly, Tonks, Ginny, Hermione, Fleur, and Andromeda when you get an unexpected visit from a goblin from Gringotts. He hands you an envelope and a small brown package and tells you that they were given instructions in Sirius�� will to deliver it to you.

You break down the moment you open the letter to see loopy handwriting that you recognize immediately

Y/N, I understand that you wanted your wedding to be more about the two of you and less about the decorations. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years it’s that there’s no time like the present. I like to think you’ve picked that up from me and of that I’m proud. Therefore I hope you don’t mind me spicing things up a little. Oh and these are my gift to you because my favorite goddaughter will have the best if I have anything to say about it. And her soon to be husband too I guess and I like him, I really do, but these are mostly for you. Hope you like them as much as I liked picking everything out. -Love, Sirius

Your hands shake as you open the package to find a pair of elaborately engraved wedding bands, the ones you’re to use tomorrow

And you have to laugh because even when he’s not there anymore Sirius really does just know you that well. They’re perfect and you’re positive he knew that when he picked them out. A little card falls out of the envelope and you smile through your tears at his final note to you.

You’re ready.

Everything you and George did you did young so it was tragically fitting when the war came around and you two were only 19 years old

Even now, only a year after everything ended, you remember the plots and the fights and the flashes of light coming at you from every direction.

You remember running for your life and hiding in whatever corner you could. You remember not being sure if your friends were dead or alive.

But most of all you remember everything you lost.

Remus. Tonks. Fred. Sirius. Cedric.

In just a year it seemed like everything had been torn from your hands, your world turned upside down. It took you a while to properly grieve what you lost.

You had George, though.

And yes, there were nights where neither of you could sleep, still clearly hearing the echoing of loud bangs all around you, flinching at even the smallest movements with your wand gripped tightly in your hand, but never once were you alone.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask George one night after a particularly bad nightmare. Your face was stained with dry tears, your eyes bloodshot, and when you spoke your voice was hoarse. He had wrapped you in his arms tightly and held you until you stopped crying. You felt safe with him. It made the nightmare of losing him alongside everybody else that much worse. You wanted to hear his voice. Needed to hear it. Needed to know he was still there.

“About how much I love you,” George had answered honestly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “And about how we’re going to be okay.”

You knew how to handle loss now, that was simply a side effect of the war.

Just a few months after the fight at Hogwarts you were taking a position at St. Mungo’s to help those also struggling with everything after the war

Now, a little over a year later, you were spearheading major changes in St. Mungo’s, helping to make all sorts of care more readily available. Everything from providing wolfsbane to those who couldn’t afford the ingredients on their own to support programs for everyone, adults and children alike.

You’d been busy and maybe that’s why you put off having The Talk with George at first. But eventually two weeks passed by and nothing had changed. There was still an ache that filled your body every time you dropped Teddy back off with Andromeda. That weekend when you were all at the Burrow you didn’t even realize you were practically glued to Fleur’s side.

You also don’t notice the way George is watching you every time you hold Vic in your arms. This image of a little toddler running around your apartment with his hair and your eyes keeps playing in his mind and he smiles every time.

It’s not until you two get home late that night that you try to work up the nerve to bring up the topic. You’re sitting on the couch, comfortably leaning against George while some music plays in the background

“What are you thinking about?” George asks when he sees the look on your face. He can read you inside and out and knows you’re conflicted about something. He’s just not too sure what it’s about though he has a vague idea.

You turn to look at him and figure now is as good a time as any to tell him what you’ve been thinking. “About how I want us to have a baby.”

For a second he doesn’t say anything, simply taking a moment to mull over your words. Finally he shifts a little bit so it’s easier to bring you closer. “Y/N, love -”

“I think it’s the right time,” You start talking again before George can continue. “I know you’re trying to expand the shop and I have a ton of things going on at work but I really do think we can do this. I thought it was just cause we’ve been around Teddy and Vic so much lately but it’s more than that. I think it at least warrants a conversation. I can’t imagine making a family with anybody else.”

A silence hangs in the room but its not uncomfortable. Slowly a small, partially amused smile grows on George’s face and he only stares at you as if waiting for you to say something else. “Are you done?”

He watches you nod and bite your lip, a nervous habit you’ve had for as long as he can remember. He reaches forward and gently removes your bottom lip from between your teeth, still holding your face in his hands so you’re looking right at him. Then he kisses you softly and when he pulls away he smiles at the sight of your eyes still closed, a relaxed look on your face.

“I was actually going to agree with you since I’ve been thinking the same thing.” George admits, laughing as you beam up at him excitedly. “As long as you’re ready to do this I think it’s worth trying.”

Honestly you weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe a talk about how you’re both still young, some mention of the fact that you were both doing a lot at the moment. But you and George are on the same page. A baby of your own is something you both want and you suppose that’s the way it should be.

“Alright,” Your smile widens and you’re the one who kisses him again. He’s as excited about this as you are, you can tell. “Looks like we’re gonna try to have a baby.”

#oof that awkward moment when you forget to add tags #okay here we go now #hp fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fic #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley #my fics #fic: baby fever #fic: the talk

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renee-writer · 4 years ago

Text

The Surrogate Chapter 26 The Much Anticipated Dinner Party

She couldn’t stop smiling, thinking her husband’s idea of having a dinner party with their parents means he is starting to forgive her. Jamie hinds his own smile knowing that, were she to see it, she would know something is up. She mustn’t know that.

He had carefully planned it down to the last detail. From the food, all Claire’s favorites. Her morning sickness is better and she is constantly hungry. He had explained to Geneva that he wanted their parents to see their surrogate has a healthy appetite. “That the baby will be strong and healthy”

She was thrilled, of course, thinking that this meant that she would be involved in the baby’s life. Claire understands what he is about. It will make the reveal even more delicious. Fill her with hope then drag her down.

“You ready for this?” he asks. He is dressed in a suit and tie. Claire wears her fanciest maternity dress. She fettles with her hair. Jamie comes up and helps her with it, pressing a kiss on her newly exposed neck. A quick intake of breath. “Sorry, it is just hard to resist you.”

“You must though. Until this situation with Geneva is finished.”

“Aye. We will start that tonight.”

“Jamie, will they like me? Your parents?”

“Aye, they will adore you.”

“James?” he mutters a course. Claire smiles and gives him a quick kiss.

“Just a bit longer.” She whispers. He grins and walks out.

The table is set with their best china and crystal. Wine is chilled for all but Claire. Sparkling water chills for her. Beef stew, heavy with vegetables, steams in a heavy pot. Fresh bread and real butter also fill the table.

Right at seven, there is a knock on the door. Jamie goes to answer it. “Welcome William and Judith.”

“Hello James. We are anxious to meet the lady carrying our grandchild.” Judith replies. He brings them in where Claire stands.

“Judith and William Duscany meet Claire Beauchamp. Claire, Geneva’s parents.”

“Very nice to meet you, sir and ma’am.”

“Exquisite manners and she is a beauty. It will be easy to pass off the child as Geneva’s.” William comments. “You did well.”

Christ, Claire thinks, now I know where she gets it. Jamie moves closer, not touching her but lending her his strength.

“Yes, no one will know the baby isn’t mine and James.” Geneva comes up and wraps her arms around his. He has to physically restrain himself from shuddering.

The doorbell rings again giving him an excuse to move away. He opens to his parents. “Mam and da.”

“Son.” He is hugged by both of his parents. “where is she? The angel that is making you a da?” his mam asks.

“Claire, meet my parents, Henry and Ellen Fraser. Mam and da, Claire Beauchamp.”

Ellen comes up and hugs her close. “I have so looked forward to seeing you.”

“Ellen, let me get a look at the lass’.” Brian comes up and exams her. “Thank you Claire for what you are sacrificing to make Jamie a da.”

“And our Geneva a mum.” William adds.

“Of course. That too.”

“Your welcome.”

“Come on. Let’s go eat. We must feed the bairn.”

“Aye,” Brian offers Claire his arm and escorts her into the dining room. He pulls out a chair for her and his wife. Jamie does the same for Geneva, due to the presence of the others. He also pulls his mother-in-laws chair out as William had already taken a seat. He shares a look with his da.

“Da, would you say grace?”

“Aye son.” He meets all eyes until all heads drop. “Lord God, we thank you for gathering ourselves together for this meal. We are thankful for the food, fellowship, and especially for the sacrifice Claire is making and the coming child. Bless us all. Amen.”

“Amen.” Echoes around the table.

“Well, Claire, tell us about yourself.” Ellen asks as bowls are filled and drinks are poured.

“Okay ah, I am an only child, raised by my uncle after the death of my parents. I am a medical student, wishing to be a surgeon.”

“Impressive. I am sorry about your parents. How old were you when you lost them?”

“Five. Thank you. It was tough but I was blessed with the worlds greatest uncle. He is mum and dad, teacher and therapist. Everything.”

“What made you decide to do this?” Brian asks.

“In all honesty, the lure of graduating without student debts. I also wanted to help.”

“Sensible and respectful. I really like you lass.”

“Thank you sir.”

“So there will be no problem with you giving up this baby?” Judith inquires. Claire tightens up until she feels Jamie’s knee against hers. It is amazing the power of his touch.

“I always planned on finishing school before starting a family.” She hedges for Jamie’s offer to be a fully involved mum is constantly in her mind.

“That is smart.” William agrees.

“So have you thought of names.” Judith asks her daughter.

“William James for a boy. Willa Geneva for a girl.” She states. Jamie has to still his face. No way in hell.

“Quite perfect.”

No, Claire thinks. Quinn Ellen or Brian Lambert. She and Jamie had already discussed it. But she focuses on eating to keep her mouth shut.

They all focus on eating for a bit if time after that. Claire knows when they finish is when this dinner party will really get interesting and wishes she could have a sip of wine too.

Finally

Jamie stands up after everyone is finished. “There is another reason I wished you all gathered today, besides meeting Claire. I have something to discuss with Geneva and wished you all here as witnesses.” He has everyone’s attention. Geneva maintains her smile but it is strained. Just wait, he thinks. “You see Geneva I know who your lover is and I know what you to have been up to outside f*cking in my office.”

“What is this then?” a stunned William yells out.

“Aye, seems your daughter has not only been cheating on me but my company also. She is screwing Steven Bonnet and they are both screwing my company. Been stealing trade secrets for the last few years. Fraser’s Spirits recipes are finding their way to Gloriana.”

“That is a lie!” a panicked Geneva tells out.

“Really?” He reaches for his tablet and starts playing the recorded sting. The entire table holds their breath to hear. He turns it off when it is clear what she and Bonnet are about to be about. “No reason to have you watch her having sex.”

“Jesus Christ Geneva. Our son has offered you everything. To be stealing from him. Cheating on him.” A stunned Ellen confronts her.

“A couple of things to make sure everything is clear. I have started the divorce on the grounds of adultery and corporate theft. It will be publicly filed and will follow you where you try to get a job. Right now, the bobbies are gathering evidence from our offices and Mr. Bonnets. You need to get her a good lawyer. This child is mine. Not yours. You will not have a thing to do with it. The divorce will show no issue in the marriage. It’s name will not be William or Willa. One final thing, I saw your bags packed. You may leave with your parents. Now.”

“James, you can’t do this!”

“Come Geneva.” Her mum moves her away and towards the front door where they find her suitcases. William follows slowly.

After the Duscany’s leave, silence reigns for a moment before Ellen walks over and pulls her son into her arms. “I am proud of you mo mac.” He shudders and releases the emotions he had been holding in.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #the surrogate #the much Anticipated Dinner Party #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #modern au #outlander fandom

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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 4 years ago

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Oooo are you doing prompts?? Exciting!! May I kindly request vampire!Cas and I'm-definitely-straight-but-this-guy-makes-me-weak-at-the-knees Dean?

Please and thank you and congrats on hitting your new milestone 🎉🎊🎂🍰

thanks for both the prompt and the congratulations! it’s good to be here :) I love this concept--if you want a lil something else after this drabble, my fic cannibal queen does have vampire!cas (it also has zombie!dean and some smut, fyi, but it’s good fun!)

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Dean’s just mixing one of the bar’s seasonal cocktails (something fruity, of course--he loves the touch of shaved orange peel as a garnish) when one of his regulars walks in and sits at his usual spot at the bar, right in front of Dean’s mixing station.

Dean hands the cocktail to a waitress to deliver to the right table and then starts pouring a glass of gin--two ice cubes exactly. He hands it to the man in front of him with a, “Heya, Cas.”

The man--Cas--takes a sip of his gin and raises an eyebrow at Dean. “How many times do I have to tell you--”

“That it’s Castiel. At least a couple more.” Dean winks at Cas and then mixes another round of two-for-one margaritas for the three girls at the end of the bar--they’ll have to be cut off after these, though.

He always tries to keep his flirting with Cas at a minimum. They’re polar opposites, as far as Dean can tell--Cas is a manager at the opera house, has the fanciest name known to man, wears a suit everywhere, and is quiet and contemplative.

Dean had only gotten to know Cas when the other man had started staying at the bar until closing at least two times a week about a year ago. Now, he always sat in the same spot, always ordered the same drink, and always left right as Dean was wiping down the bar.

“See anything good on TV?” Dean asks as an attempt to strike up a conversation.

“I don’t own a television,” Cas takes another sip, “And you know this.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“I wouldn’t dream of blaming you for anything.” Cas’ eyes are oddly bright, a small, rare smile on his face.

Dean clears his throat. Cas is attractive and friendly (in his own way) and--off limits. “Well, how are things at the opera house?”

“Dull.” Cas lets out a sigh and...loosens his tie, which never happens, and runs a hand through his hair. “I haven’t felt this defeated since I was helping Puccini write Madame Butterfly.”

“DIdn’t know you wrote opera,” Dean said, wiping down a part of the bar that had just been abandoned.

“I haven’t in a long time.” Cas looks wistful, before saying, “Tell me about your brother.”

Dean stops wiping the bar and stares at Cas. “Tell you about Sam?”

“Yes,” Cas clears his throat, and Dean can't help but watch his Adam’s apple bob. “How is he?”

“Good.....finishing up college applications. Smart kid.”

Cas has never asked about Dean’s life. What he knows, Dean has told him. Voluntarily.

Something is wrong.

Cas makes an unusual amount of conversation, but leaves at closing time, like always, and Dean cleans up and grabs his jacket before walking out onto the cold street. On a whim, he googles...what was that guy’s name? Puccini?

Giacomo Puccini, 1858-1924, Wikipedia helpfully supplies.

What the hell?

Just as Dean is turning to walk to the subway station and head back to his apartment, he sees a familiar figure in a black trench coat with dark, messy hair standing by a shop window next to the bar.

Dean walks up to him. Cas doesn’t turn his head.

“I searched that Puccini guy,” Dean says, “He died almost a hundred years ago, Cas. What...are you?”

No response.

Dean puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder, and finally the other man moves, and then smiles, and Dean sees them--sharp fangs curling out of Cas’ mouth.

Cas blinks once. “We can talk about it, if you’d like.”

[Dean learns a lot of things. One, Cas is a vampire. Two, Cas really does hate opera, but “other people hate it more.” (He actually uses the air quotes.) Three, Cas has a pet cat named Houdini--and he has actually met Houdini. Four, Cas owns sweatpants, and he looks damn good in them. Five, Cas is a pretty good kisser.

This last fact is Dean’s favorite.]

#destiel #deancas #follower celebration #thank u for the prompt I hope you liked this!#offbeatwrites

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slashyrogue · 4 years ago

Text

AU-gust Day #25: Circus AU

Will hated this.

He wiped his brow, sighed, and heaved another shovel full of shit into the back of the truck. This was his last favorite job since he’d started here, and yet he was always pushed back to do it.

Shovel shit, wash the elephants, and feed them.

It wasn’t the most glamorous, or even the most important but this kept him here.

Will hadn’t had a place to call home until a year ago, fresh out of the orphanage and no relatives to take him. No one wanted to hire an orphan, no matter how much shit he promised to shovel.

He was just about to heave the last shovel full of shit onto the truck when a voice cut through the quiet.

“You look as if you could use a drink.”

Will froze, his heart racing, and turned to see Hannibal standing against one of the trailers. He wore his pinstripe suit, top hat, and a smile but carried a glass of what looked to be lemonade in his hand.

“Um, thanks.”

He reached for the glass and their fingers brushed.

“You’re welcome, Will. This looks to be hard work.”

“It’s work,” Will mumbled, taking a long sip, “That’s all I care about.”

“Hmm.”

Hannibal took in the scene with barely covered disdain.

“I do wish Jack would allow you to be my assistant.”

Hannibal was the resident magician in Crawford Circus. He was amazing at magic, Will should know he’d seen his show so many times he could almost recite the lines, and he’d been doing it for almost ten years. Hannibal had offered Will an assistant gig when he first came to the circus but the owner, Jack Crawford had vetoed.

No one wanted to see a male assistant.

Especially not in this podunk towns.

Will knew it was the truth, but still he felt disappointed.

“It’s fine,” Will said, handing him the glass, “I’m getting good at this.”

“That you are,” Hannibal said, eyeing him, “It’s surely built up plenty of muscle.”

Will blushed. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “Um, did you need something?”

“Oh,” Hannibal said, “I was hoping when you’d finished that you could help me move the bed in my trailer. Bedelia is...out, so I have no extra hands to help me.”

Bedelia Du Maurier was Hannibal’s assistant. She was his fifth in ten years, but also the most outspoken. Will had seen them in arguments more than once that almost always ended in her stalking off. He wouldn’t be surprised if one day she never came back.

“Uh, yeah,” Will said, nodding,” I can help you when I’m done.”

“Splendid,” Hannibal purred, handing him the glass again, “Now it’s best if you finish this now so I can return the glass without Beverly’s wrath.”

Beverly Katz was both the cook and the lion tamer. She was also one of Will’s only close friends outside of Hannibal, who he wasn’t sure was a friend at all.

“She’ll be fine if it’s for me.”

“So you say,” Hannibal said, sighing, “Ms. Katz does not like my interference in that makeshift slophouse she calls a kitchen.”

Will laughed. “No, she doesn’t. But I’ll keep you safe.”

Hannibal smiled. “I’m sure you will.”

Will finished the rest of his lemonade, the taste nothing short of amazing, and he handed Hannibal the glass. Their fingers brushed again, and he licked his lips.

“Thanks. I’ll...come by after I’m done.”

“You’re welcome. I await your arrival.”

Hannibal bowed, as he almost always did, and left with a flourish.

Will had to get himself in shit shoveling mode again after he was gone, lost in thought of him, and when he finally got the last shovel full he drove to the woods to start dumping. It took a few more hours, and he was dead tired but still made his way through camp to Hannibal’s fancy trailer.

He had the biggest trailer in the whole circus, which was justified since he brought in the most money or so Will had heard. There had been talk of him getting his own HBO special at some point but Hannibal wasn’t interested in all that.

Hannibal just liked to wow the crowds.

He’d certainly wowed Will in the short time he’d been here.

Will didn’t bother to take a shower, he was so eager, and as he stood outside Hannibal’s trailer he second guessed himself. Hannibal wouldn’t want him smelling up his place like this.

“Shit.”

“Will?”

The door opened and Hannibal peered out at him. “How long have you been out here?”

“A few minutes. Look, I...”

“Is the shower not working? You may use mine if you’d like.”

Will blinked. “Um....”

“It’s no trouble at all and I can have clothes brought over for you.”

He nodded mutely and walked inside.

Hannibal’s trailer was the fanciest place Will had ever been inside. Everything glittered and glowed as he took it all in, and the further he went inside the better the sights to see.

“Thanks,” he said, still staring, “I finished up and just ran over. I didn’t think.”

Hannibal led him to the small bathroom at the back of the trailer. The shower was just big enough for one man, and Will immediately had thoughts in his head of Hannibal inside. “It’s quite alright. I’m happy you were so enthusiastic about helping me. The towels are there, freshly washed by my hand, and I will go see about your clothes.”

He left Will alone, and Will took off his smelly clothes before he stepped under the warm spray.

The shampoos and soaps all smelled like Hannibal, which only made Will more aroused. He forced himself not to touch his already aching cock, and showered fast when he realized Hannibal could return at any moment. The sound of the door opening just as he turned off the water made him freeze.

“I’ve brought you clean clothes.”

“Thanks,” Will said, shivering.

“Ms. Katz was very helpful and...”

“You can just leave them on the floor.”

Hannibal didn’t say anything for a moment, and Will could see the outline of his frame through the foggy glass. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he murmured, “Thanks!”

He waited another second before he left the bathroom and Will stepped out in a rush. Will hastily dressed, still shaking, and when he was done practically jumped out of the bathroom.

Hannibal was standing right outside.

“I’m glad you’re alright, I was worried.”

Will shivered, blushing. “I’m fine.”

“That’s good. Now the bed is right in here.”

They turned and he led Will to his small bedroom, which still somehow held a queen sized bed. He blinked.

“You want to move this?”

“Yes, I thought perhaps...over there.”

Hannibal pointed an inch to the left.

“Um...ok?”

“Thank you.”

Will wondered why Hannibal couldn’t just move this himself. The bed would easily push without help, and yet he thought maybe Hannibal had grown up so fancy he didn’t even know that.

That was probably it.

He pushed the bed over hard, and fell face down onto the mattress moving it just where Hannibal had asked.

“Excellent.”

Will moved to stand just as Hannibal did, and their feet got entangled making them both fall onto the bed together. He was on the bottom, staring up at at Hannibal, and the closeness made Will’s entire body burn like he’d been set on fire.

“I...apologize.”

He felt his own blush, but couldn’t seem to move. “It’s okay.”

Hannibal smiled. “Thank you for coming to help me.”

He nodded mutely.

“If there’s anything...”

Will felt his cock start to move and forced himself out from under him.

“I gotta go, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s...alright. Thank you again!”

He ran out of Hannibal’s tent so fast he nearly tripped getting dirty again but stopped himself. The tent for those without big fancy trailers was way at the back of the camp, but he got there eventually, falling face down onto his cot.

“Fuck.”

Matthew Brown, a juggler, laughed at him. “Rough day, Graham?”

“Always.”

He and Matt didn’t exactly get along, but they weren’t enemies either.

“Where’d you run off to earlier?”

“I was helping Hannibal.”

Matt scoffed. “How is Mr. Fancy doing?”

“Fine,” Will said, taking off his shoes.

“Hmm. Your hair looks wet, did you...” he trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh god, no! He let me use his shower!”

Matt smiled. “I’m sure he did.”

Will threw a pillow at him. “Asshole.”

He flopped back down onto his cot, closed his eyes, and tried to think of anything that wasn’t Hannibal Lecter.

When he woke the next morning it was to chaos.

Bedelia Du Maurier, Hannibal’s assistant, hadn’t come home that night and left a note that she was leaving the act. They had less than six hours to find a replacement who could learn the act well, and play off Hannibal like he deserved.

“Will can do it!” Bev said, making everyone look at him.

Will’s face burned. “No, I...”

“Will’s seen the magician show like twenty times!” she joked, “He knows that shit backwards and forwards. He can do it, Jack!”

Jack glared at Hannibal. “No.”

“Jack...”

Will took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he stepped up. “I can do it, Sir.” He said, shaking, “I...I know what Hannibal needs. I really do.”

Jack sighed, running a hand over his face. “Shit. Fine,” he mumbled, “But you better know your stuff. I’m not having my biggest act bomb.”

Will smiled as the others all came up to congratulate him when Jack left and his eyes scanned the crowd for Hannibal. Hannibal watched him with that same sly gaze and his smile made Will’s heart beat faster.

He could do this.

For Hannibal, he’d do this.

Will wouldn’t let him down.

Not like Bedelia, or any of the others.

He’d be the perfect magician’s assistant...or die trying.

#au_gust_2020 #hannigram au #circus au #yeah it's what you think it is lol

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deathbled · 4 years ago

Note

💍 + averey & lenalee o vo

@lunaetis / wedding meme send me 💍 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they get married

it takes place in a beautiful garden near where they first met; averey was surprisingly stubborn about that because, in his words, “where they met is where his life started” and honestly lenalee probably won’t say no to that logic (plus he probably used the puppy dog eyes, he’s not above that)

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

it’s late spring, early evening some day in mid-april, to be exact, where the trees bloom & the flowers slowly come out of their slumber. it wasn’t planned like that, per-se, but things happen and sometimes the most beautiful things take place at unexpected times.

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

i’m honestly unsure about this because i feel like while they probably would include some traditions it wouldn’t be as big a deal as for other people; maybe they both drink wine from goblets tied together with red string or, and he’s only doing it very lowkey because he’s embarrassed but where averey is from there’s the tradition of carving wooden spoons for your loved one and decorating them with things like key insignia ( to signify they have the key to your heart ) so maybe that plays a part? i’m honestly stumped with this one otherwise because i can promise you even after looking up wedding traditions i have absolutely no idea about wedding traditions :’)

or there’s the whole “testing the groom” thing kamui might’ve been involved with planning

what their wedding cake looks like

it is either incredibly cute or absolutely extravagant and even now i’m not sure if it’s a 50/50 decision vote like most things are with them or if they just play rock-paper-scissors to settle which one to go for. though if avereys “boss” gets to have a say it’s literally the most over-the-top cake and i’m screaming and laughing over this one

….who smashes cake into whose face

i want to say lenalee smashes cake into avereys cake but honestly i’m 100% convinced averey accidentally smashes cake into his own face in a moment of inattentiveness.

who proposed to who first

OKAY SO. THERE’S TWO SCENARIOS I CAN SEE.

they both did at the same time actually because it was kind of a “you know if i could i’d marry you right now” -”i’m not stopping you” situation that ended with “so we’re getting married?” but in like, during a picnic or something and it sounds a lot less cute than it was because trust me it was cute and wholesome. either that or one of them prepared to propose to the other, the other found the ring and then proposed first in a classic uno reverse card move.

or it was averey but only because he asked lenalee if it was okay and she was just so confused and like “yeS?” and then it happened and turns out this dumb nerd had everything prepared already but was just nervous so it’s not even a surprise but he’d rather ask if it’s okay for him to ask then ask at a wrong time

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

i want to say it’s the classic thing but i’m so sure averey insisted the walk down the aisle together just because he hates the traditional view most cultures have on the bride being “given away” into another mans care so he just was as stubborn as a mule about walking with her

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

can i say wildcard for this one because i actually have no idea. i thought about it for thirty minutes now and i literally have no clue other than given that avereys birthplace doesn’t even really do weddings he’d just stress so much about what to wear he’d probably be annoying a little bit before he just kinda settles on “i’m going to ask the fanciest people i know but at the same time i am ready to cry how to fashion....”

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

it’s definitely a more red & gold theme; the decor is perhaps one of the most traditional things & once again i am not sure what else to say other than they kept it classy but also very eye-catching??? idk

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? )

okay so to start off it’s not in the bouquet but averey has a sprig of thyme in his pocket for “good luck”, there’s probably red peonys in there, perhaps some pink roses, DEFINITELY at least one white carnation, and a pink hydrangea.

the red peonys stand for love, passion, honor and respect. the pink roses symbolize gratitude, grace & joy, white carnations symbolize purity, good luck & in wedding contexts pure love. pink hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotion. i’m not a florist, trust me.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

they’re actually improvised! i’d get the feeling at least one of the two had vows prepared but instead went spontaneous as soon as it came to saying them out loud. actually, i can see that happening with both of them i don’t know why.

if anyone’s late to the wedding

surprisingly enough, no. nobody would dare be late. they know better than that :)

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

oh god here comes my absolute lack of knowledge with d. gray man characters AND the fact averey has literally like 2 people he hangs out with on the regular but i think in the bridal party there’d definitely be miranda? maybe kanda because i can see him refusing to be a groomsmen but they insisted he’d be involved. if this is a verse where the princess averey was serving is healthy & they finally get to be friends without one of them constantly under the threat of death then definitely her too!!

as for groomsmen there’s probably allen, lavi, a very grumpy kamui and one of the rookie knights from avereys training.

and yes i hope it shows i have no idea how weddings are??? structured???

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

the bridal party wears a pastel shade of pink just because they def ain’t gonna wear white or red dresses and anything else would legit just clash with the color theme.

the groomsmen all wear a simple suit because honestly all of them made suggestions and it would’ve turned into a disaster because they’re tastes are so vastly different so eventually both lenalee and averey just were like “how about,,, we keep it,,,, simple,,,”

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

well i mean, honestly? i think they both give small welcoming speeches until the others get a turn and then it’s just kamui going, allen giving a speech, avereys rookie friend whom i decided is now called lynell and uhh, a few others probably want to have a god but honestly therE’S NO TIME......

who catches the bouquet( s )

i mean i want to say a serious answer but just for shits and giggles i’m gonna say kanda.

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

okay so most of them are sweet and absolutely the cutest pictures ever but there’s definitely a picture of averey accidentally cake-smashing himself so....

what sort of food they have at the reception

it’s an 8 course banquet and honestly i don’t even know what exactly it’d entail i just know they went all out and if i dwell on this ask any longer i’ll be hungry i’m so sorry i just can’t do food asks past midnight i’ll turn into a gremlin

who cries first during the ceremony

can averey cry first if he’s been crying this whole time?

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

it’s a tame kind of wild; there’s a dance off and definitely some drunken shenanigans but nobody goes absolutely crazy

what their rings are like

FINALLY MY FAVORITE THING I KNOW THINGS ABOUT. averey made them himself and he’s super proud and yes it took literal months but look at them,, he tried to keep them simple but elegant so they don’t get in the way of work, too. i’m crying.

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

uH,,, UHHHHHHHHHHHH, personalised candy probably but also most definitely mini champagne bottles if just because it fit with the theme or something---

where they go for their honeymoon

they actually travel for a while! they couldn’t decide where exactly to go so instead they just decided to pick the places they wanted to see the most and then travel there for a bit

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

averey not only accidentally cake smashes himself he also manages to accidentally use the cake leftovers on his hand like hairgel because he was careless and ran said hand through his hair

THEY DID manage to get it out for the most part though so it’s all good---

who officiates the ceremony

can i pick wildcard again because other than the classic “a priest” i don’t actually have anything in mind other than perhaps the bishop that took averey under his wing to help him with his curse a short time before averey and lenalee met??

what song their first dance is to

OKAY SO I THOUGHT ABOUT THIS ONE SUPER LONG but i honestly think it’d be to “for the dancing & the dreaming” if just because it’s super cute and also they’d probably sing along thank you for coming to my ted talk

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle

i mean given that they walk the aisle down together i don’t think anyone gives anyone away but if it came down to it you already know the answer

#lunaetis #you can tell how tired i got because i literally ended up writing the last five questions or so while I WAS DEAD #anyways i hate this but i tRIED #i know NOTHING. NADA. ZIP. about weddings #FJDFLKGJKDFFGJDKFDG the truth come out i live under a rock #bUT YEAH I TRIED TO MAKE IT WHOLESOME AND CUTE OK #but yeah the cake smash thing def happened because averey was so nervous he just kind of accidentally did that:tm:#* ALL OF THIS SORROW WON’T FIT IN MY CHEST ( reply )

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years ago

Note

Can I have RowanChance for the OTP thing, my dear? 😘

Okay I managed to get this one done just before I have to get ready for work. Just like with you and WrenWes this will be more from Chance’s view. I tried though.

Rowan x Chance

General:

Rate the Ship -

How long will they last? - This could really be a long term relationship. Chance doesn’t hold his breath or want to think about it ending because that’s not really helpful to anyone. He wants to enjoy the moment. I’m sure Rowan forever the optimist sees this going till the end.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Okay listen, Chance falls fast for people, he doesn’t say anything until he’s sure that’s what he feels. Chance starts to feel in love by like the fourth or fifth date but won’t say anything about it until a few months in. Rowan most likely said it first.

How was their first kiss? - Third date Chance “hears” something in the distance and moves them behind a tree. Tells Rowan that they should kiss to hide from whatever creature he comes up with on the spot better. It’s soft and warm mixed with smiles both knowing how it didn’t need to be that elaborate.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Chance isn’t scared of commitment but he’s not really one to want to get married. There will forever be this fear that it’ll end badly if they do, that the curse is going to hit another generation. Rowan seems better adjusted and will instead opt for a proposal of long term commitment for Chance. So like instead of “Will you marry me?” it’s more “Will you join me on this adventure forever?”

Who is the best man/men? - Chance would have Wheaty as the best man, other groomsmen would be Hurk Jr and Sharky, who promise that they don’t have fireworks hidden on them.

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - I mean Wren obviously. She’s also the one to officiate.

Bonus: Boomer is the ring bearer.

Who did the most planning? - It wasn’t a very big thing there wasn’t much planning involved, though Chance got overwhelmed and let Rowan do most of it helping where he could and needed too.

Who stressed the most? - Chance. He has a hard time letting go of the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. He also just wants the day to be everything Rowan wanted.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Not the fanciest, it was optional to wear super fancy dress wear. Chance wore a nice suit, one his dad would wear to functions to present findings at and he would also have his grandfather’s formal ring as his commitment ring. Rowan would wear a lovely white dress with accents of dark green.

Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 This ceremony was never meant to be big, and became bigger than Chance anticipated, like he thought just the two of them wheaty and wren, but it had nice touches and felt like something formal while being outdoors. For sure happened out in the Whitetails in Rowan’s favorite spot.| Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Eli. Chance doesn’t know a ton of people, basically if he didn’t think to invite you then that should say something.

Sex:

Who is on top? - Both, though Rowan a little more so.

Who is the one to instigate things? - Chance once comfortable will always love to have his hands on Rowan which turns to teasing that then turns to more.

How healthy is their sex life? - Healthy, Chance is always up for some and even when they get busy the two like to make sure there’s some time in there for fun.

Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 Minimum once a week but there is no objection to more, I am also going to count just anything that ends in orgasm as sex because at the end of the day that’s what matters most.| 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Chance has done...well a lot….he’s down to try anything once. He let’s Ro set the pace on it though.

Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 Look again Chance has done a lot and tried different things, will admit he doesn’t mind being topped by women, quiets enjoys it to be frank.| 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - Chance will last as long as needed for Ro to get her pleasure. Boy is a giver.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Yes.

How rough are they in bed? - I cheat because honestly just depends on the mood and where they’re at.

Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - Chance loves to cuddle and loves holding Ro. He likes to stroke her hair or make her smile so he can see her dimples. He loves to be able to have physical contact with Ro, makes him feel safe.

No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - I don’t think I could see them having any naturally. Maybe one if it was fated.

How many children will they adopt? - Two. Chance loves the idea of adoption a lot more given that he was adopted himself.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - They try to make it equal but Chance is used to seeing single dad life and so defaults to it.

Who is the stricter parent? - While Rowan isn’t strict in the bad way, she would be perceived as the stricter parent cause Chance can’t take many things seriously. He can be a big kid himself so there’s that.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Again Rowan. Chance would encourage or try it first just to make sure they won’t get hurt to badly.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Both do, though what their contents are varies on who packed them.

Who is the more loved parent? - Loved equally but like they have a cooler aunt so they don’t exist once she comes around.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - For all of Chance’s joking and not being serious, he takes education very seriously. He’s right there making sure his kids and others have what they need to succeed.

Who cried the most at graduation? - Both cried equally. Chance cried more later behind closed doors, he’s got a lot of feelings about it.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Chance will but I feel so will Rowan and dole out the punishment at home that is appropriate.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Rowan is the better cook so she does.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - I would have to say Rowan cause Chance is someone that lived off of gas station food and once you get to that point I don’t think you become picky about food.

Who does the grocery shopping? - Rowan gives Chance the list and he gets everything to her liking.

How often do they bake desserts? - Rowan bakes a lot of them by hand. Chance bakes the boxed desserts for her on occasion.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - They are even, though more towards the meat side. Rowan is a hunter so there’s always some fresh game, Chance fishes enough that there is always some fish in that freezer too.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - It would be who can beat the other to it first.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Chance. There’s only so much home cooking you can do and he likes to show Rowan off.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Chance. He gets lost in his head and also is not the best cook to begin with.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Chance, sometimes things have to be a certain way.

Who is really against chores? - Neither likes doing them but it has to be done.

Who cleans up after the pets? - Whoever gets to it first but like they live out in the middle of the woods so they don’t have too if they let the dogs out.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Neither.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Rowan, I feel like she cares more about appearance than Chance.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Rowan, she has better eyes for spotting things like that.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Rowan, more so if Chance decides to “help” her.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - They both like walking the dogs so they each get a leash. Or the dogs become trained enough to not be leash bound.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Major holidays they decorate.

What are their goals for the relationship? - Chance has the goal of having a partner in the adventure and journey we call life.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Chance. He gets weird sleep schedules.

Who plays the most pranks? - Chance. Nothing too harmful, but he likes seeing chemical reactions occur here and there. Rowan tries to get him back and while he figures it out quickly sometimes and just lets it happen so he can see her smile.

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omgviolette12 · 5 years ago

Text

After Hours - Chapter 11

Previous Chapter

Summary: Loki and Evelyn go on a date. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Chapters: 11/?

Words: 2800+

Warnings: None

Tags: @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101@alexakeyloveloki @little-moonbeam-666 @marvel-ous-fics@clovermariear@lynnesm@bitchyikes@moon-child-of-a-poet, @allthecraftandthings@bubblegumspitt @shockwavee @blondekel77 @nerd–nirvana @valdemarismynonbinarylove@nightrose64 @pastelhexmaniac @iistormii

If you’d like to be added, let me know. I’ve also posted this on AO3

A/N:

I’ve neglected to post 11-12 on tumblr...so since I’ve recently updated, i’ll post everything in one go. so expect two more chapters.

____________

There was a moment where Evelyn thought she would get used to her professor's stunning appearance...but it was on this day that she was proven wrong.

When she exited her apartment, she could see that Loki was waiting for her just below the steps, leaning leisurely against his car.

And lord help her - If she loved how the man looked in suits, his current attire sent her into a tizzy. Forsaking the usual suit jacket, Loki donned a simple black dress shirt that sat snug against his form, with sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. His dark slacks fit quite nicely as well, and Evelyn struggled to keep her eyes well above his chest.

Luckily, she wasn't the only one who perused without shame. As Evelyn made her way towards him, she could feel his eyes scanning every inch of her body - and she grew increasingly self-conscious as he continued his silent appraisal.

“You are...the definition of stunning,” he said after a while, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her forehead, “And you smell delightful as well.”

Unsurprisingly, Evelyn felt a heated blush rushing to her face, and she stumbled to reply, “You - you look really good too…” If she was getting this nervous already, Evelyn feared how the rest of the night would fare.

Once they were inside the vehicle, Evelyn started to probe - as subtly as she could, about their destination, but all she received were vague answers.

At first, she expected him to take her out to a fancy restaurant because he seemed to be a ‘posh’ kind of person, but since they were dressed quite casually, maybe that wasn’t the case? She would feel out of her element anyway if he took her somewhere expensive, so she hoped it was at least a comfortable, easygoing place with good food.

And easygoing it was. After driving through the busy streets of Manhattan, Evelyn was pleasantly stunned to see that it wasn’t a fancy restaurant - but a taco bar. Before they even stepped inside, her stomach growled loudly with approval.

Loki laughed at the strange sound, and Evelyn berated her stomach silently, “It seems I’ve made the correct choice, yes? While it isn’t taco Tuesday, I figured you’d still have a craving for it.”

She laughed, surprised he even remembered what she said from that long ago. “I guess that was a dead giveaway that tacos were my favorite…” He smiled, ushering her into the bar with a hand on her lower back, “Indeed it was.”

Once they were inside, it took no time before they were seated and ready to order. Loki reassured her that she could have anything she wanted and not to worry about the expense, so Evelyn happily indulged - though she was still mindful not to choose the most expensive thing on the menu.

While Evelyn thoroughly enjoyed the fanciest looking taco she’d ever eaten, they gradually fell into comfortable conversation. It was almost reminiscent of the times they talked together in his office while he helped her study, before their desires came to light. Now though...the air between the pair was much more intimate.

Loki asked her questions about her life and family, whilst she did the same. He was rather tight-lipped about his own family situation, but relented that he was the youngest of three, with an older sister and brother. Evelyn tried to probe further, but he had managed to divert the conversation her way once more.

“....and I only wanted to shape up my eyebrows, but I ended up shaving off the entire thing! I remember putting on like, six pairs of pants because I just knew my mom would whoop me to the moon and back,”

Loki quirked a brow in query, “Were you attempting to soften the blow?”

“Yup,” Evelyn grinned proudly, “Though I gotta give credit to Candice for that one. I honestly think she loved getting in trouble with how wild she was...”

Evelyn paused momentarily, putting an abrupt end to her monologue. She debated with herself on whether or not to ask a question that had been bothering her for a while, before deciding to just get it out there.

“Can...I ask you something? Just out of curiosity...”

She could tell that Loki was intrigued by the sudden switch in subjects, because he seemed to be watching her facial expressions more carefully than before. He could easily see when she was flustered, and no doubt it must have shown on her face.

Evelyn shimmied slightly in her seat under his gaze, attempting to ignore the butterflies that fluttered within her stomach, “Well...uhm, why do you like me? Like, the actual reason?”

“...I beg your pardon?”

She panicked slightly at his confused expression, rephrasing her question in response, “Oh, well, what I mean is...I know you find me physically attractive...but is there something in particular that drew you to me…? Like, when exactly did you know that you saw me as more than a student?”

Loki seemed to pause entirely. Even after a minute or two, he said nothing - he merely looked at her with a distant expression, as if debating whether or not to tell her what he was actually thinking.

Evelyn frowned slightly at his reaction. ….Was that really that hard of a question?

Before she began to grow antsy, he finally decided to speak, “I...would prefer to answer that question in a more private setting. Perhaps later?”

Evelyn could only nod, her heart in the pit of her stomach. What was so wrong with his answer that he had to say it in private?

She tried not to let it bother her as they finished up dinner and headed towards his car, distracting herself with the sights outside the window as they once again took off into the bustling city.

After driving for around 30 minutes, she noticed that they had left the city, and into a more suburban area. Each house they passed by looked progressively fancier than the next, and she also noticed that his neighbors were few and far in-between each other.

For whatever reason, that observation made her nervous, and she began to wipe the sweat that formed on her hands onto her dress.

“Is everything alright, love?” Evelyn whipped her head to look at him suddenly, slightly startled, “You’re quiet,”

Evelyn reassured him immediately, “Oh, yeah! I’m just a bit drowsy, I almost nodded off a couple times...”

Loki chuckled at that, “We did eat quite a bit, so I wouldn’t be surprised. We’re almost there though, so hold on just a bit longer.”

And, he was right. After making a right turn, Evelyn’s eyes widened at the house that lay in the distance.

They went around a small roundabout that had an immaculately decorated water fountain at its center, before coming to a stop directly outside the house. Tall glass windows on the exterior hinted at the luxury that lay within, with the glittering chandeliers illuminating the marble flooring at the entrance.

“Uh...are you a drug dealer or something?” She asked in awe as he helped her out of the car, her eyes fixated on the impressive building. While it wasn’t a huge mansion by any means, it was still too large for one person to live by themselves. How he could afford such a nice house on a professor’s salary was beyond her comprehension.

Loki turned to look her in the eyes, his face cold and expressionless, "And what if I am?"

He couldn't resist the laughter that bubbled in his chest at her hilarious expression of horror.

Loki flicked her forehead playfully, and she yelped in pain at the sudden attack, "You ask the strangest things, silly girl."

She rubbed her forehead with a pout, remaining silent as he led her into the house by the hand.

If she thought outside was grand, then inside was another story.

It was exquisitely furnished and decorated, with marble floors so clear it felt as though she was walking on glass.

The interior decor was modern with a classical touch, and she couldn't imagine another style that would fit him perfectly.

Loki observed as she took in her surroundings with glowing curiosity whilst guiding her towards the stairs, "When you visit once more, perhaps then I'll give you a small tour. For now though, I thought you'd appreciate seeing the collection right away."

Once more? That was the only thing that stuck out in that sentence to Evelyn, since he said that in a way that left no room for doubt. So he wouldn't mind me coming over again…?

Evelyn mentally slapped herself, trying to get her mind out the gutter. She was really getting ahead of herself.

There isn't a guarantee that anything will happen tonight, so I shouldn't get my hopes up.

…….Wait, I had my hopes up? Oh boy…

From that train of thought, Evelyn knew she was in trouble.

After going up a flight of stairs, Loki made a left into a lengthy, spacious hallway that held only one large door at the end.

Due to a singular light source on the ceiling, the sight itself was slightly ominous, but she tried not to let that bother her.

Well, she tried, but Evelyn couldn't resist clutching his arm.

Loki looked down at her with a smile, freeing his arm to loop it around her waist, " Once we get inside, the lighting will be much better. See,"

When they finally reached the door and he began to open it, Evelyn had to do a double-take.

"When you said you had a collection...I thought you meant like, you know, a small room with a couple of paintings...but sir,"

In her excitement and awe, she stepped further into the wide, spacious room, marveling at the sight before her, "You have a whole museum in your house!!"

The room resembled a large gallery, with white walls and sheen, wooden flooring. There were glass cases that held valuable items of interest, with a considerable amount of paintings that neatly lined all four walls of the room.

Loki laughed, finding her excitement very endearing, "That's a bit of an exaggeration, my dear."

"But...but look!" Evelyn took him around the room eagerly, pointing at paintings of prominent artists she recognized, " You actually have a Bob Ross painting, with his happy little trees! You really weren't lying…"

Loki lifted a brow at that, " You thought I was?"

"...Eh," she brushed that off rather quickly, moving on to the next painting, " Holy nuggets, I love this one!"

He came beside her to look at the piece in question, as she began leaning against the wall to look at the painting at an angle.

"Thomas Cole was my inspo for so long! Especially this painting… just look at those brushstrokes, so precise and confident..."

She was silent for a bit, turning to look at her professor with questioning eyes, "Say...why did you collect art? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were an art history teacher or something."

"I had a lot of time on my hands when I was younger. I did a fair amount of painting back then as a hobby, and developed a small obsession with the arts. Hence, this collection."

He gestured at the space with a careless wave of a hand, " I've long lost interest, though. I barely even remembered I had this room."

Evelyn only nodded, slightly sad at his response, "Oh…”

"Despite that, I've been thinking about adding one more painting to the collection."

She looked at him, intrigued, " Oh? Whose?"

Loki stared into her eyes, his smile widening, "None other than yours."

Evelyn was utterly confused, " Wait, what? What do you mean..?"

He went closer to her, taking her small hand into his own, “It would be an understatement to say that I was captured by your paintings when I visited your workspace. I would be honored to own a finished piece by you - of course, I’d gladly pay any price.”

“Huh!? But- I’m not really a professional, I'm far from good...besides, the walls are all filled up,”

He looked at the painting she was admiring moments before, “You said this painting inspired you greatly, correct?”

Evelyn looked at the painting, then back at Loki, “Yeah..but-”

“Then, I’ll exchange this painting for one of your own.”

At his proclamation, she immediately felt overwhelmed with emotion, “That- what? But that’s worth so much, that wouldn’t be fair at all. There’s no reason to be this nice to me…”

Evelyn couldn’t tell what this man was thinking, was he crazy? He wanted to exchange a master’s work worth thousands for hers, which was still mediocre at best. He was being way too generous…

“You’re thinking too much of it. I simply value your pieces much more,” He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them once again, a primitive hunger lurked within the depths of his icy blue irises, “I admire everything about you, and your art is no exception.”

Her heart started to thrum wildly as he came closer, trapping her against the wall. Loki towered over her small form, and she looked up at him with an open mouth, speechless.

“Earlier, you asked why I liked you, and when my attraction began.” He traced a finger down her neck, ghosting towards her cleavage, “Would you like to know now?”

Evelyn gulped, only managing a nod as she stared up at him helplessly.

“It was around a year ago, and you came to me for help for the first time during my office hours. You struggled so much in my class, at the beginning. A shy little thing,”

His voice was growing darker and darker by the second, and the air around them rapidly twisted with his desire, “You were a sputtering mess, apologizing for every little mistake. But when you finally did something right, I praised you. You would smile so brightly when I did, so eager to please me so I’d praise you once more. Such a good girl,”

Loki leaned towards her further, his breath fanning against her cheek, “Tell me, my sweet little pet...do you want me to take care of you?”

It was like he was an entirely different person. This wasn’t the generous, warm man from before. Evelyn should’ve felt concerned at his words, his tone, the situation - but it was like she was in a trance, his words caressing a dark depth within her heart.

Good girl. She didn’t know why, but when he said those two simple words to her, in that deep, velvety voice of his...she couldn’t help but rub her thighs together.

Whatever this was, this feeling right now, she wanted more of it. She wanted him to praise her, to call her his good girl again.

She didn’t know what prompted her to say what she did in the next moment, but the words left her mouth so softly and suddenly before she could process it, “Please... take care of me,”

Loki's lips were on hers before she could even blink. Evelyn released a muffled moan as his tongue plundered inside her mouth, pressing her body against the wall in such a manner that there was no space between them. He ravaged her tongue like a starving beast, and she reciprocated with the same ferocity.

Loki moved a hand towards her lower back, gripping her ass roughly. He gave it a quick squeeze, before lifting a leg in order to bury himself further between them. That action on his part allowed Evelyn to feel his distinct hardness against her sex, and the sensation caused her to whimper quietly in pleasure.

Things were going fast, way faster than Evelyn expected. If they continued along this route, she'd most likely lose her virginity right now, against the wall. While the thought appealed to her in the past while she fantasized about this moment with him, she wanted her first time to be...different. A little less rushed.

"Wait...wait a sec - mmh..!" She attempted to get him to slow down a bit, but his fervent attention to her neck and the slow grind of his hips were getting a bit too distracting.

Perhaps because of how breathless and quiet her words were, he failed to hear her, lost in his own world of pleasure. Finding no other way to garner his attention, she went to tug at his hair, burying her hand in his long, raven locks. She must have pulled harder than intended however, because the man actually growled when she did so, his eyes flying to meet hers.

"Um...can we - can we move somewhere else? Right here's a bit..."

She could see that it took a moment for him to process her words. But when he did, Loki smiled apologetically," You're right, I got carried away," and with elegant swiftness, he lifted her into his arms to carry her out of the room, startling the wits out of the young woman.

"Thankfully, my bedroom isn't far."

____________________

This is happening. It’s really happening…!

She was about to fuck her professor, and there was no going back.

To say Evelyn was nervous would be an understatement. But regardless of her nerves, she had no intention of backing out of this arrangement. She trusted him with her first time and was frankly more excited than anything to see how it would feel.

When they finally reached his room, Evelyn barely had time to inspect the impressive decor before she was promptly deposited on the bed.

Loki was on top of her immediately, occupying her tongue with his own as he palmed her breast, "We are wearing entirely too much clothing, pet," he said once his tongue left her mouth, his eyes even with hers, "Let’s fix that, shall we?"

Wordlessly, he leaned off of her to remove his shirt with expert quickness, leaving Evelyn to gawk at his muscles.

I didn’t know abs could be this lickable…

Evelyn realized she must have been staring too long when she heard a chuckle above her, “Keep staring, and I just might blush,”

His fingers moved to tease the strap of her dress, “ While this dress is beautiful, I would much prefer what’s underneath.”

Before she could even protest, he pulled it down in one swift motion. Evelyn opted to go without a bra since the dress had built-in cups, so her brown, perky nipples immediately met the hungry eyes of her professor.

Out of reflex, her hands immediately went to cover them, her body growing impossibly hot, “ Wait - you could’ve warned me at least-“

Loki dragged her hands away from her breasts roughly, pinning them to the sides of her head, “Don’t you dare hide from me. Not now,” he growled, licking his lips as he locked eyes with her breasts once more, “Fuck...you’re perfect,” he panted heavily, before dipping his head to suckle a nipple into his mouth.

Evelyn didn’t expect that, and she jerked upwards due to the sensation, her eyes squeezed shut. Loki sucked and nipped at the tender bud, all while Evelyn whimpered and squirmed. Her breasts were especially sensitive, and he picked up on this fact rather quickly. Loki proceeded to exploit it, letting go of her wrist to tease the neglected breast with his fingers. He pinched her nipple, causing a shocked gasp to leave the girl's lips.

Loki released her nipple from his mouth with a wet pop eventually, smiling a bit evilly. “My my, so responsive,”

He pulled her dress down fully, leaving Evelyn in just her underwear. She merely laid there, her mind hazy as her breasts ached from residual pleasure.

Loki couldn’t resist fondling them a bit more, “ You have no idea...how much I’ve wanted to touch you like this, with no barriers,” Loki leaned down between the crevices of her breasts, trailing reverent kisses down to her belly button, “My sweet, perfect girl...”

Evelyn’s breathing picked up in anticipation once he reached the hem of her underwear.

She was so unbelievably wet from just his tongue on her breasts, that there was a string of her arousal once he began to remove it.

“Spread your legs for me,” he demanded huskily. Evelyn’s eyes remained closed until she felt a strong grip on her jaw, forcing her eyes to open, “ Eyes on me, pet. And once again, spread your legs for me.”

She gulped at the authority in his voice, his aura exuding severe dominance. Evelyn promptly obeyed, locking her eyes with his own as she hesitantly opened her legs.

“Good girl,” He purred, rubbing the top of her knees affectionately. Evelyn could feel another flood of arousal rushing forth because of those two words once again.

Holy shit, what is this man doing to me?!

Loki bent down, and she watched through lidded eyes as he began to kiss and nip at her inner thighs, inching closer and closer towards her sex. Her breathing turned ragged with excitement, but the devil between her legs decided to take his merry time, never once touching where she needed him the most.

She tried to hold out as long as possible against his incessant teasing, but she began to beg after just ten minutes of his licking and sucking, “Please...please just - ah!” She jolted against his face once she felt his warm tongue lick right up her slit, her fingers twisting against the sheets.

Smiling, he gave her pussy a chaste kiss, “ Your pretty little cunt is so sensitive,” He moved his thumb up and down along her slit, dipping it inside her entrance lightly “ and you get so fucking wet,”

She knew he could curse a lot because of their previous encounters, but man can he talk dirty. Her eloquent, well-mannered professor was a sordid menace in bed, and the thought that she brought out this side of him aroused her greatly.

He removed his thumb from her slit, replacing them with two fingers instead. She was so wet, that they slipped right in with no issue. Evelyn clenched her walls tightly as he curled his fingers, thrusting them in an upwards motion as he sucked at her swollen clit.

“Holy fuh…!” Her words died down as her hand flew to his head, her back lifting off the bed at the sensory overload. His fingers worked in tandem with his tongue at a steady rhythm, and she couldn’t help but writhe, feeling a pressure slowly building in her abdomen.

Loki could tell she was close by her frantic breathing and clenching, so he removed his tongue from her clit to apply pressure to it with his thumb, “You’re doing so good, Evelyn. My good girl,”

“Please...please…” she wasn’t exactly sure what she was begging for - but whatever he was doing with his fingers made her feel so good, she wasn’t sure she could take any more of it.

“You’re so close, pet. Let go, cum for me.” And she did. She came on his hands with another curl of his fingers inside her, causing an unexpected scream to rip from her throat.

White appeared behind her eyelids as her eyes twitched shut from her orgasm, her skin twitching and rippling at the sheer amount of pleasure.

Evelyn laid limp, breathless and sweaty against the bed. She felt as though she was floating, not grounded into reality. Opening her eyes slowly, she mindlessly watched as he unbuckled his belt, throwing it aside to rid himself of his pants.

Unexpectedly, he wasn’t wearing any briefs, so his leaking, engorged cock bobbed proudly as soon as he released himself. And goodness did it really hit her. That huge thing was going to go inside of her.

Evelyn let out a small whimper as she stared at his dick, feeling slightly apprehensive.

Loki noticed her nervousness, reassuring her gently, “Shh...relax, it will hurt if you tense,” he paused then as if remembering something. He reached across from her to open his drawer that was beside the bed, pulling out a condom, “While I’d love to fuck you raw, we wouldn’t want a happy little accident, now would we?”

Evelyn would’ve laughed at the subtle Bob Ross reference if she wasn’t so focused on what was to come.

He brought a hand to her leg, resting it on her knees as he took his cock in the other, rubbing it against her entrance, “ Remember, relax.”

And then, he began to push in.

Thankfully, he made sure she was adequately wet enough since it would be her first time, or else it would’ve hurt like hell.

Evelyn moaned mildly in pain, the shock of the intrusion causing her to tense immensely. He paused, massaging her stomach while kissing the tears away from her cheek, “Just a little more, love. You’re taking me so well,” he groaned, the feel of her tight, fluttering walls maddening.

She slowly started to relax under his soothing ministrations, giving him the go-ahead to continue pushing in. And with one more steady push, he was fully nestled inside.

“Fuck…” he moaned almost breathlessly, his eyes fluttering shut at the enveloping warmth around his cock, “You feel like absolute heaven.”

Evelyn was biting her lips hard enough that they could draw blood, so he began to kiss her in a languid manner. She slowly brought her hands around his neck, burying her hand into his silky tresses as she lost herself against his lips, forgetting the momentary pain.

Loki began moving in slow pumps, holding her body against his so that her breasts flattened against his chest. The pain was ebbing away, and pleasure began to spread as he started hitting a particular spot, “You - mmh! You… you can go a bit faster…now...”

Since he received the go-ahead, he picked up the pace, delivering several shallow thrusts at a steady rhythm. The sounds of their skin slapping together filled the room, and Loki could hear she was slowly growing wetter with each thrust, “You had nothing to worry about, little one. See? You fit my cock perfectly, just like a glove.”

It wasn’t long until he started going faster, the pace growing more relentless as time went on. Evelyn started screaming his name repeatedly, her voice growing progressively hoarser, “Loki, Loki! P...please, wait just, - too much, too much! -“

She wasn’t sure she could handle the brutal thrusts of his cock much longer. He refused to slow down, holding her hands above her head as he continued to fuck her into the bed, his eyes glazed with animalistic pleasure.

Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head, and her professor’s sinful voice filtered into her ears, “If you ask nicely like the good girl you are, perhaps then I’ll show you some mercy, hmm?”

“Please...please…”

“Please what, girl. Use your words,”

“Please...sir, please make me come...!”

With that, he released her wrists to thumb at her clit - and Evelyn swore that she saw stars in that very moment, her brain going blank completely. Loki almost cursed once more as she clenched tightly around his cock, the sensation finally bringing him to completion. He groaned loudly as he came, her name falling from his lips as he pulled out, slumping forward.

It took a while for Loki to compose himself before he began to shift his weight, so that she wasn’t crushed beneath his body.

As for Evelyn, the poor thing was worked to exhaustion, and passed out shortly after her final orgasm.

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

A/N:

Hope ya'll enjoyed that hefty dose of smut. I know I certainly did. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Please let me know what you think, since I'm still insecure about writing smut scenes. What in particular did you enjoy, or dislike? Again, thanks for reading!

#loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki smut #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston #Loki Laufeyson #professor loki

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bag-of-broadway-snacks · 5 years ago

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ROGT Secret Santa Gift

@rotgsecretsanta

I had a lot of fun making this! I hope you enjoy @leilani-lily

Sandy x Reader (Secret Santa)

It was a warm, mid-may evening in your beautiful hometown. Spring flowers were lightly kissed with water droplets left over from the early rains of that morning. The water reflected the soft glow of the sunset that painted the sky with variations of orange and rose. It was a perfect evening, and you were hoping with all your heart that a special someone would drop by your house at night. Sanderson Mansnoozie, the star captain of the golden age had been your nightly visitor for almost a year now.

You recall your first encounter to be short and sweet. You had been staying up late one night, struggling to get your next art piece finished on time when suddenly you saw the most beautiful golden sands flow right by your window. You rubbed your eyes and got up, going over and opening up the thin glass pane. Another strand flew by, and another, and another. You stared in awe, not knowing what otherworldly occurrence what happening. Then, in a brilliant firefly-like glow, he appeared. The Sandman. You had always believed in him, ever since you were small, and now he was all the more real. Sandy hovered by your window, sending out streams of sand out into the windows of many other houses and apartments. His hands held such elegance and grace to them they mesmerized you. You rushed to grab your sketch pad and begin rapidly drawing the small man outside. Your sketch was almost complete when he noticed you. You locked eyes and for a moment, the world seemed to be still. He was surprised at first, his face motionless, but then he smiled a bashful smile and he sent a small strand of the golden sand out to you. You remember reaching your hand up and grazing it with your fingertips before falling fast asleep. Your dreams had been so wondrous that night, and when you finally awoke the next morning, your sketch pad was set on the foot of your bed. The lines of the drawing were all kissed with the same golden sand.

Ever since that fateful night, Sandy had visited you in the early evenings. He was very busy, but he always managed to make time to visit you. It didn't take long for you both to start being attracted to each other romantically. Sandy was a wonderful boyfriend it turned out. He brought you gifts, made little pictures for you with his sand, and always gave you sweet dreams before he left. You spoiled him as well, making him fresh cookies for his journey, or some of your homemade eggnog. He especially loved your eggnog, he couldn't get enough of the stuff. You two were very happy together. But something was bothering Sandy as of late-you could always tell when something was. Even though he mainly used pictures to express himself, you never struggled to know what he was thinking. Sandy was bothered that he could only visit in the evenings. You never had the joy of spending your days together just enjoying each other's company. You also felt this way, though you would never say it out loud. You didn't want to hurt his nightly job of bringing good dreams-someone had to do it after all. But still, it was a struggle to be apart from him so often.

That evening at 6 o'clock sharp, Sandy floated gracefully through your bedroom window and onto your apartment floor. You came out of your tiny kitchen and grinned ear to ear when you saw him. "Sandy!" you cried out and rushed over. You had always been a short woman, so even with Sandy being a little man, the height difference wasn't too bad. You bent down and kissed him softly on the forehead. He blushed and smiled at you, forming the shape of a little heart above his head. You blushed as well and invited him to sit down on the couch while you brought out the dinner you'd prepared. It wasn't the fanciest feast, just some sandwiches, and cookies, but it suited you both just fine. You set the tray on the coffee table and sat down next to Sandy on the couch.

"Are you tired tonight?" you asked him with a wink. It was a little joke between you two that amused you greatly. Sandy was virtually always tired. It was one of the things that came with being the Sandman. He often fell asleep standing up, which you loved. Sandy smiled and wrinkled his face a bit as if laughing. He nodded his head in an enthusiastic answer. You giggled a bit as well and divvied up the sandwiches.

'Sandy is still a mystery to me,' you thought as you took a big bite out of your favorite sandwich. It was true, he had limited communication so getting information from him was a little difficult. The reason you knew as much as you did at the current moment was because of a dream he gave you. It was no doubt the strangest dream you had ever had, but it explained a lot about Sanderson. Even if you weren't quite sure what 'The Golden Age' meant exactly, you still understood that it was the time Sandy was from. You knew that he had been a captain and that he had once helped grant wishes. You also knew that he was deemed the Guardian of Dreams by a man who lived in the moon. It had been a whimsical dream, and when you awoke you felt closer to Sandy then ever. Yet, you still didn't know everything about him, why he was silent now when he spoke in the past was a mystery.Not only that, but the fact that he was seemingly made of this golden dream sand had always been a lot to understand. You supposed you didn't mind, you had a lot of time to figure everything out.

You went over all of this in your head while taking a few more bites of your dinner. You glanced at Sandy, who was eating in small little nibbles here and there. You furrowed your brow in concern.

"Sanderson," you said sweetly, "Is something the matter??"

Sandy looked up and gave you an encouraging smile. He set his sandwich aside and took up one of his cookies. After crunching down on it, he began to form his dream sand into a figure. It was a rose in full bloom, and it looked even lovelier when made out of the sunrise golden grains of dream sand. You blushed deeply when Sandy hopped off the couch and offered you the rose. You took it out of his hand and it immediately split into several different, and smaller figures. 3D depictions of your favorite animals, plants, and dreams. You smiled ear to ear at the romantic gesture. Sandy always knew how to make you swoon like a teenage girl.

You clapped your hands together. "Sanderson, you are too sweet for your own good!" Sandy beamed at you, then shuffled back and forth on his feet. He reached up and touched your forehead lightly, which caused you to wrinkle your brow in confusion. Slowly but surely you felt yourself become heavy with tiredness. You gently leaned back against the couch and fell asleep.

While you slept, Sandy was conjuring up your dream world into a beautiful landscape. There was a candlelit table in the center of a large gazebo, complete with an appealing dream dinner. You walked over and sat down at the table.The feeling you got when Sandy entered your dream was amazing. Just seeing him in his golden bowtie made you feel warm, like you'd just dipped into a hot spring. He came over and sat in the chair across from you. He smiled gently.

"I have something important to discuss with you," he began. His lips didn't move but you heard his voice. It was always like that in the dream world. You didn't mind of course, as this was the only way to hear him.

"Well, go on," you said, trying not to sound too worried or excited.

Sandy straightened his tie. "We've been together for a long time now, but I can only visit you in the evenings. It feels like we're losing so much time together." He sounded sad, but when he spoke again, his voice was hopeful. "I love you so much. I have decided that I want to make my home yours. We could be together all the time, only being separated at night. Perhaps, you could also journey back and forth so you could see everyone who loves you...I believe to put it simply what I'm trying to ask is..." Sandy held his breath and stared intently at you. He hopped out of his chair and knelt beside you, his golden orbs staring into your own. He held out his hands and conjured up a small box, and when it opened it showed off a stunning ring. You'd never seen such a jewel, even in your dreams. You would find out later, it wasn't a work of fiction either.Sandy had gotten a friend of his from the North to specially make it for him. "Will you be my wife?" Sandy asked you, hope gleaming in his eyes, "You make me so happy. I feel like a small sandman again when I'm with you."

You couldn't contain your tears of joy, it all felt so overwhelming the moment and the implications of it all. You rubbed furiously at your eyes and tried to suppress your sobs of happiness. You nodded again and again as you tried to find the right words. "You make me feel like a princess, yes. Yes. And before you ask again yes!" You kissed him suddenly, even if it was a dream your embrace was no less passionate. He pulled away and slid the ring onto your finger gently, it shimmered brightly at you. You wrapped your arms around him and held on tightly. Your heart beat a mile a minute and you could barely wrap your head around what all this meant for you. You were going to marry Sanderson Mansnoozie, the legendary Sandman, the bringer of good dreams, and one of the defenders of childhood. It sounded like something out of a fantasy book for crying out loud. Yet, this was your glorious reality. This was your future and you were ready to put on your adventuring boots and take it head-on.

Sandy hugged you back tightly and kissed you. He took your hands gingerly and smiled. He was a man of few precious words, but those words meant everything, and he would only ever speak them for you. The concept of love had often perplexed the little man. It was a mysterious force, and it conjured up the most powerful belief. Belief in another person to be there and love you for as long as you both lived. He hadn't understood it long ago, it was strange to him. He understood some types of love. He felt a deep love for the other guardians and Emily Jane. They were his close friends and they never tired of one another. But when he met you, he learned a whole new type of love. You had as well, dating and marriage had never been far from your mind as you went through life. You dreamed of meeting your true love as many other people around you. But after waiting for such a long time it felt as if that would never happen. Sanderson had shown you differently. He showed you a world of wonder, love, magic, and dreams. You cherished and held onto every bit of it. Now it was all coming to a head. You and your Sandman would be together forever. And when you opened your eyes from the wonderful dream, you glanced down and saw the beautiful ring still on your finger.

#rogt #rise of the guardians #guardians of childhood #secret santa #rogt secret santa #leilani-lily #merry christmas #fanfic #x reader #sandersan mansnoozie

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tamedbyafox · 5 years ago

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Aziraphale's British Bake-Off

Aziraphale doesn't own a television, but he does frequent the pastry shops of London. And a surprising number of them have been baking his old favourites. He finally notices the pattern, and finds out what - and who - caused it.

Read it on AO3 Here: X

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Aziraphale doesn’t own a television. He certainly doesn’t pay for a cable license. He knows that people watch television on their computer through streaming companies, but he doesn’t actually know how one accesses them. But, he does stay generally up to date on human news - he still likes getting the paper(s). He’ll check out the TV Guides and see what, generally is getting played nowadays, just to make sure they haven’t strayed too far into demonic territory. (Truthfully, for much of the twentieth century, some woman named Mary Whitehouse was doing quite a job trying to make television even more holy and staid than heaven would approve of.) However, most of what’s on looks like Crowley’s work and so he just goes back to reading and drinking.

So you can only imagine the shocked and excited wiggles Aziraphale exhibits when the generic little pastry shop in SoHo has a pastry he hasn’t seen in ages.

There are gorgeous little pork pies, hand raised, and the flavors are the ones he remembers from ages ago. It looks just like the ones they used to do with the little wooden dollies, pushing it up and twisting as they… he stops dead as he notices. The wooden dollies. They’re on the shelf, just behind the counter. There are three that have got flour on the handle and he’s certain the proprietor used one to shape these little packets of porcine pleasure.

Now, truly, pork pies and such had never really gone away but they hadn’t been make like this for ages, not since aluminum became cheap and tins were so easy to come by. Especially not in a standard little bakery like this one. Aziraphale thinks it “charmingly common”; by which he means this is a pastry shop that makes its living off some solid bread, the standard buns, birthday cakes, and the nostalgic fare of the current middle aged British man. Nothing as adventurous as a 100 year old pie making technique.

He buys one and revels both in the pie and in the nostalgia, the memory of this pastry from another lifetime.

Another day, another stroll through SoHo, another little pastry shop.

The kouign amann had been invented hundreds of years ago and he was quite fond of it. The perfect ratio of flour, butter, sugar to create a fluffy yet solid and slightly crunchy cake. He had a soft spot for a more personal reason as well. When the insult “cream puff” had become popular, Aziraphale felt the sting of knowing he was, most certainly, a cream puff. But Crowley had drunkenly announced one night that if anyone knew their baked goods they’d know that Aziraphale was a kouign-amann – yes, soft and buttery and fluffy, but he had a hard shell and could probably break your teeth if you caught him on a bad day. Aziraphale had been able to find the delectable pastry on and off in more discerning bakeries in the city. But he had certainly not expected to find it in this place. It wasn’t the same pastry shop as the pork pies – but it was of a similar vein. A solid shop, nothing remarkable.

He sees the giant, classic kouign-amann – a rounded cake cut into slices that glistened in the pastry case and noticed that there were several slices already missing. Below it, there were scattered little kouign-amanns; tiny cupcake like things all pinched into a flower shape. He bought two little ones and a slice of the big one; indulging in the caramel shellac on the rich butter pastry. He saw several more kouign-amanns over the next few months, and was thrilled the little pastry had made a comeback.

These regular strolls for pastry kept Aziraphale well updated to the changes of London. He’d noticed that lately, there were more cute little pastry shops. A veritable bakery explosion. These were ones with adventurous owners, willing to dredge up older European recipes and bring them to the forefront. He was thrilled that all of a sudden his favorites were back and people were putting modern spins on old classics. He started adding pastry shops to the list of alternative rendezvous spots for he and Crowley.

It’s during one of their ostensible meetings to discuss the end of the world, and they’re on their way to a pastry shop Aziraphale thinks quite highly of. A cute place, small and modern. The proprietor liked a soft turquoise and lilac décor, reminiscent of spring. She had set up small mismatched tables and chairs in the front of the space, and had drip coffee and tea available. She displayed her work in the usual counter-come-pastry-case, as well as refurbishing some gorgeous old bookshelves and curio cabinets as cases for her cakes and pies. It was, frankly, vaguely reminiscent of Aziraphales’ bookshop – as though it were the cute niece of a stodgy old uncle. A clear family resemblance, one might say.

Of course, the pastries are delectable. Aziraphale wouldn’t frequent a place if the pastries were not up to snuff. But in addition, the variety of little pastries was absolutely astonishing, the flavours were inventive and novel, and the cakes are gorgeous. The owner is a lovely young woman who is kind and loves people as much as her baking. The only questionable thing is the framed artwork of Mary Berry as the Holy Mother over the cash register. But, no one is perfect, and Aziraphale can overlook a little tongue-in-cheek blasphemy for a nice hot cross bun and the gentle suggestion that the young lady give a little bit of her profit to charity. As… heavenly licensing fees, you might say.

He and Crowley are strolling down the street, yammering about something – they had started with the Anti-Christ, moved to shocking and unusual modes of death, and somehow wound up talking about the viciousness of waterfowl. Crowley is trying to come up with the details of some story as they enter, and Aziraphale has tuned him out to marvel at the pastries on serve today. There’s gorgeous mille-feuille, eclairs, profiteroles – those actually may be religieuses, good lord – assorted biscuits and fondant fancies, a Battenberg Cake, and…. No. No. That cannot be what he thinks it is.

Aziraphale stops in his tracks and throws his hand out to stop Crowley.

“Crowley!” – the angel interrupted a commentary on geese and Crowley looked around, shocked. Aziraphale, when sober, was an incredibly polite conversationalist and would only have interrupted for an emergency.

“Tell me, what do you think that is?” Aziraphale was pointing to the monstrosity in the place of honor on the cake shelf. The light caught it and it nearly sparkled. If a cake could look proud of itself, this one would. This is the sort of cake you imagine on the table of particularly opulent minor kings; with more money than sense.

Thick discs of snow white meringue piped into intricate swirls. Glossy whipped cream peeking out between the layers. A hint of a strawberry, hiding inside the middle layer. Dainty crystalized flowers scattered along it. It looked as light as a feather and as though if you so much as breathed on it, it would scatter like a daydream.

Crowley scowled, but visibly relaxed as he realized there wasn’t any danger. He blew a raspberry and leaned back, as if getting a wider view would help. “I don’t know, but looks like a thing you ate in Austria…ooooh, years ago.” Crowley’s “oooh” told Aziraphale he was right. This cake was ancient. Museum levels of Ancient. Impossibly ancient.

Beneath it was a little sign – Aziraphale strode up to read it, and in neat script it proclaimed “Spanische Windtorte”, underneath, in slightly smaller script, “The Fanciest Cake in Vienna”.

It came rushing back to Aziraphale. A quick trip to Austria, much like his quick pop over to France, for some miracles and some local delicacies. He had known Crowley was over in that part of the world, and they had seen each other at parties, balls held by nobles. It was the height of the Baroque period, and everything was over the top. Aziraphale remembered the opulence, the decadence, the almost tortured aspect of the era. The Catholic church had encouraged opulence as counter to growing Protestant asceticism. Aziraphale didn’t have strong opinions on the art or architecture – but the “more is more” approach to pastry suited him just fine, thank you very much.

He attended the parties for the arguable purpose of encouraging the religious fervor of the time and smattering some blessings around. The fact that his blessing rate directly correlated with the quality of the deserts was just a coincidence. The fact that he only stayed long enough to bless people if Crowley was there was, also, a coincidence. Crowley justified attending in order to push this new opulence over to outright hedonism, and because demons loved a lavish party. Crowley, however, hated parties, and would often simply stroll around causing small mischief until he figured out whether Aziraphale would show up to thwart him. If it became clear Aziraphale wasn’t coming, he would throw out one last temptation for someone to stick another bauble on a church somewhere with money they could have used to help people and call it a night.

Aziraphale hadn’t seen a Spanische Windtorte in eons. And certainly not one so well done as this. He looked over, the young woman who owned the place was helping customers and grinning. She was no more than 30, there was no way she had ever seen these in their heyday- her great grandmother probably hadn’t even seen these. So what inspires a girl to make a fussy, difficult, ornate confection that people probably have never seen? What ancient book did she drag this out of?

Aziraphale hung back, appearing to peruse the pastry case for much longer than was necessary. He wanted the line to dwindle so he could introduce himself properly to the owner and find out more about her passion for outdated pastry. Crowley sighed as he stood by, but knew better than to try anything to hurry this up. Any infernal acts against this bakery would be met with a quick reprimand.

Finally, the shop emptied out and Aziraphale stood up primly and walked over. Crowley followed behind him, hands in his pockets and bored look on his face. Aziraphale folded his hands in front of him as he waited, and sprinkled a little bit of a suggestion into the air – encouraged the owner to recognize him, and ask his name.

She smiled as she finished closing the cash drawer.

“Good mo- oh, hey.” She switched to a warmer, informal greeting when the suggestion took hold. “You and your friend come in quite often, but I don’t think we’ve ever actually met. I’m Lil.” She extended a hand to Aziraphale, looked down and saw the powdered sugar on it, and pulled it back quickly while flipping it up, “Sorry – baker’s life, constantly a little powdery.”

“No offense taken, my dear,” Aziraphale assured her “I am Ezra Fell, this is Anthony Crowley.” Crowley gave a nonchalant nod as the girl smiled, and Aziraphale plowed on. “Tell me, where in the world did you get the inspiration for that absolutely decadent Windtorte? I haven’t seen one of those in, oh, it feels like centuries. Long before you would have even made your first cookie.” He ended with the indulgent smile he knew people found comforting, the one that made him seem a friendly old confirmed bachelor.

Lil huffed a light laugh but looked a little confused. “You don’t know? Ezra, you’ve tried every pastry in this case, and you’re telling me you don’t know where I saw a Spanische Windtorte?”

Aziraphale couldn’t tell if he was more offended by her presumptuous attitude or by her pronunciation of Windtorte- with an almost exaggerated accent.

“I certainly don’t, they’re quite an old dish and I haven’t seen one in some time, regardless of how many pastries I do or don’t eat.” Aziraphale drew himself up to his full height and frowned primly as he watched Lily’s eyebrows shoot up and she glanced at Crowley, trying to suss out what she had done wrong. The realization dawned on her face, and suddenly she looked contrite.

“You don’t watch the Great British Bake Off, do you? The cooking competition? I’m sorry, I just assumed anyone as interested in pastry as you are would jump at it, and that you knew it from there too! I’m so sorry, that probably seemed really rude!” She tripped over herself to apologize, and Aziraphale sensed that the exaggerated pronunciation had been a reference to a character on the show. He softened immediately, and replied “No, I don’t, I don’t own a television. More of a reader, or a listener.” Were radios still something people used? He wasn’t certain. They were listening to something all the time but he wasn’t sure what it was.

Crowley interjected “Yeah, he’s hooked on podcasts – my fault, shouldn’t have gotten him into them.” Aziraphale could hear the shit-eating grin on Crowley’s face. He knew that he probably would not like podcasts, whatever they were.

Lily turned to Aziraphale and said “You’d love it, it’s a reality show….competition, folks have to bake a three dishes every week, and they bring up a lot of older or less popular bakes. It’s been on for a few years now – and they did one a while back with a Spanische Windtorte, and I thought I’d give it a shot. That’s the first one good enough to put in the shop, they’re tricky. You should get into it! Its online now, I know Netflix has a few seasons. Enough to whet your appetite at least.”

“I don’t have Netflix either, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale knew vaguely that Netflix was a streaming service, and that “Netflix and Chill” was something indecent, but he had always classed it with the rest of the modern things he didn’t need.

Lily shook her head, “Alright, well, I think you’d really like it so if you want, I’ll give you my login. I don’t mind sharing, but only if you promise me you’re gonna watch it.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure how to handle this offer – it seemed generous and genuine, but also too much and of dubious legality.

“I’ve got one, no worries.” Crowley had jumped into the conversation, saving Aziraphale from trying to do the math on how much he could accept from this woman.

“Well, you’ll just have to bring this luddite up to speed then Anthony.” Lily smiled at Crowley, and Crowley gave a rare smile, soft and pleasant. Aziraphale was impressed that Lily had gotten that from him so quickly.

“And Ezra! Let me know who your favourite baker is!” Lily called as they left. Aziraphale had asked for about 15 different pastries, and Lily had offered him the Windtorte, and quoted a price much below was Aziraphale knew it was worth. He told her yes, but asked if he could pick it up tomorrow, because that sort of artwork would need to be on display for a little longer in order to inspire a revival.

Aziraphale walked down the street with Crowley, musing over the show. “So tell me, dear, was that show your idea? Force fiddly, old fashioned, obscure baked goods onto the British public, punish some bakers, and see how unpleasant you can make the bakeries of the United Kingdom?”

Crowley shrugged while walking, an impressive feat; “Nah. Not entirely my doing. The idea was already there. All I did was get the ear of the folks who decide what the Technicals are. Paul’s even worse for torture than I am, I just get him information he’d never have otherwise. You figure 6000 years of time, and at least 3000 of them watching you drool over European pastries, I know what no one else does. I would know what would really hurt to make.” After a pause, he continued: “Backfired a bit though, people loved it, got into baking and started owning bakeries and bringing back lost recipes. Now baking isn’t scary and more people are spending quality time together in the kitchen.” He slipped into a sneer at the very end, like he couldn’t imagine a worse thing than increasing the amount of love-filled baked goods in the world.

Aziraphale glanced sidelong at Crowley as they walked, and recognized the indulgent exasperation there. Crowley had made the same face many years ago, in a theatre not too far from where they walked. A little miracle, just to make Aziraphale happy, was all he had asked Crowley for. Just this one play, to show Shakespeare he could do more than comedy. Crowley had gone above and beyond, knowing that a few successes would ensure that something Aziraphale loved stayed around forever. They were constantly putting on Hamlet, classic versions, modernized ones, ones with strange twists. Disney had re-done Hamlet with Lions, and a happier ending, ensuring that even children were exposed to the story of the father-avenging Danish prince. And this…Technicals business was quite similar. Crowley, who didn’t even eat and could barely be bothered to pay attention to anything but a wine list, had specifically meddled in a baking show. Seeding it with all of Aziraphales’ favourites, probably justifying a few miracles to help it take off and reach maximum frustration when people tried to recreate it at home. And instead, people had brought back all the bakes that Aziraphale had been missing. He thought about all the quaint bakeries he and Crowley had spent time in. About all the complicated, old, fiddly little pastries he had watched Aziraphale eat in the past few years.

“Well.” Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders as he stepped up onto the bottom stair to the bookshop. He looked back at Crowley. “I, for one, am quite grateful” – at his pause, Crowley started to open his mouth in protest – “that your wiles were so thoroughly thwarted.” He opened the door and gestured Crowley inside. “After you. I’ve got some lovely dessert wines in the back, if you’d set up this Bake-Off?”

Three weeks later, Aziraphale and Lily are in the back of her shop, gushing about Chetna’s Orange Savarin over a plate of éclairs. Crowley is peeking through her recipe books, trying to surreptitiously find the name of the angel’s favourite little cookie from Lebanon.

#good omens #good omens fic #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #fanfiction #ficlet #go fic #go ficlet #fluff #good omens fluff #good omens tv

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onceuponadetectivedemigod · 6 years ago

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House Of The Rising Sun

Part One

Pairing: Female Reader x Ben Hardy

Warnings: language, references to sex but no actual smut, alcohol, guns

Summary: New Orleans, 1923. There is a House, who covers as a Mythology Museum however it’s is actually housing the most dangerous mob around. Ben, an English businessman, comes seeking a new life in The United States. Gwylim, sneaks in alcohol into the states, specifically to The House’s Speakeasy, during prohibition. While Roger, Brian, and Lucy, from a sister mob in the UK come to help out Rami, Joe, and The House. Meanwhile Y/N runs away from home to become a flapper and when all their paths cross Ben, and Y/N get mixed up in the wrongs stuff at the wrong time.

Chapter Summary: Ben gets to New Orleans and meets a beautiful young flapper.

Word Count: 2,812

AN: So I was listening to House of The Rising Sun by The Animals AND I HAD A VISION SO HERE YOU GO! Lmk if you like it, if you hate it, ect. Also I HAVE A WHOLE DAMN PLAYLIST FOR BEN HARDY to which you can find here: Ben’s Playlist New songs are added regularly! Also I am not trying to “cross-tag” in this. I am typically guilty of it, but with this particular story, I would like people other than ben stans to read it because I quite proud of it and it will have more of everyone in it later.

Today I woke up to the soft playing of jazz from across the street. I was living with with these two boys I met when I got here. Joe and Rami. They told me I could stay as long as I wished. They won’t tell me what their job is but I know they work together. They constantly invite me to parties and cool speakeasies, maybe they smuggle alcohol. I’m not sure, but they always avoid talking about it. I got out of bed and looked out the window, towards the beautiful music. I opened the window and let in the perfectly cool breeze. I let the music fill the house as I walked downstairs. “Hey boys!” “Morning, Y/N/N! You doing good today?” Joe asked. “Well I woke up to a nice breeze and some smooth, seductive jazz.” “Seductive?” Rami asked, as he walked in. “Joe is not seductive.” His response made me giggle. “Not Joe, THE JAZZ!” I laughed. Joe was born and raised in California and moved down here a few years ago. Rami’s parents were Egyptian and he was a first generation American. His parents moved down here seeking a new life. “Makes sense. What you up to today?” Rami said. “Oh I don’t know.” I responded. “Maybe catch a parade. I love that I came just in time for Mardi Gras!” “Well if you want, the speakeasy is open tonight. The code is ‘God save the Queen.’” Joe told me. “I will probably make an appearance. How do you get all the codes?” I asked him. “You gotta know the right people, which I do, and you do. So don’t worry about it. See you there tonight.” He responded. “See you boys tonight!” I giggled as you kissed them both on the cheek and ran back upstairs to my room. I am thankful you found these two. I met them on the trolley. They saw my small suitcase and asked if I needed a place to stay. They had an extra room available and were willing to let me stay. We have grown quite close since I moved here a month ago. I walked towards the closet and put on my favorite dress! It was black with gold beading, and it came up above my ankles. I love wearing short dresses; all the old rich men look at me funny. It makes me feel happy when I throw everyone’s sense of order right into hell. Once I was done I grabbed my purse and hat and marched down the stairs. “Bye boys!” I shouted as I started out the door. I heard them both say bye back and made my way down to Café Du Monde, for the best beignets in town. I was almost there and the line was fairly short. I took another few steps, closed my eyes, and breathed in that soft smell of powdered sugar and the misty water. Suddenly a man with a brief case ran into me. “Oh! Miss, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you!” He spoke with an unfamiliar accent. We both scrambled to the ground to pick up his stuff. He smelled like cigars and cinnamon. He had short blonde hair and his eyes were greener than an evergreen. “Hey, it’s all right! I’m Y/N. If you don’t mind me askin’ where are you from? I haven’t heard nobody with an accent like that.” I asked him, as I handed him the spilled contents. “Ben. I uh, am from England. I just moved to the U.S. a few weeks ago. Been trying to make my way down here from New York. Trying to start a new life.” He said, putting everything back in the brief case. “Well, Ben, You came awfully long way. But you definitely came to the right place! This town right here is perfect for running away to a new life.” I told him. “That’s what I like to hear. I guess, I will maybe see you around, Miss Y/N.” He told me. “Yeah, Maybe See you around Mister, Ben.” I said back. We both walked our separate ways as I went and got in line. After I ate, I just went on my daily walk through the city. Everything seemed just as usual. Then I saw that Ben boy getting thrown out of a building by two larger gentleman. I ran over to him. “Hey, you okay?” I asked helping him, once again collect his things. “Yeah. Fine. We can’t keep doing this. You always helping me pick up my things.” He smiled at me. “It really is no problem. What happened in there?” I asked him. “I guess I’m to progressive for that lot. I was interviewing for a jo-“ He looked up, and stopped, and pulled me into the alley beside the building. He put his hand over my mouth as he noticed I was about to scream. I was trying to get him off of me when he whispered “Please don’t scream! I swear I’m not gonna hurt you! Please, I can explain if you are quiet!” I stopped fighting against him, but kept my guard up. He moved his hand off my mouth. “Those are three around the corner are apart of the most dangerous mob in London. If you even look at them funny they will shoot you! So please just be careful. I don’t know you all that well but I don’t want anything to happen to you either.” He spoke. I nodded and looked around the corner, extremely carefully. I noticed two older gentleman and a very pretty, younger, blonde woman. All three were dressed nicely and the woman looked as if she would only wear the fanciest of perfumes. I turned back and looked at him. “Them? They look like they wouldn’t even harm a fly. She looks way too nice and way too high class to be in a mob.” I told him. “They steal all of their money. They kill while doing it. Please just believe me, Y/N.” He looked at me. His face has pure fear written all over it. “Why are you so afraid of them? If you leave them alone, you won’t have a problem.” I told him. He looked down and blushed. “Were you involved with them? Oh MY GOD YOU WERE!” “SH! Keep your voice down! They can’t know I’m here. It’s not that I was apart of the mob, I wasn’t. But I know one of the older men, Roger. I didn’t know he was in the mob. I was just trying to get a job and he told me, he would pay me to drive him around. So I got a job as his driver. Eventually I found out too much, I found out that he not only was in, but was in charge of the mob. When he asked if it was a problem, I told him yes and quit. I heard he had been looking for me but I never knew he would go to this length to try and find me.” As he explained, my sympathy for him grew. These three were coming to make sure he didn’t tell anyone of their shenanigans. “Okay... so are we just supposed to hide in this alleyway?” I asked. I was too late. The three of them rounded the corner. “Well. Well. Well. There is my boy, Ben! Who do we have here? A new girlfriend, Benny? You know I didn’t know you’d be in town. Quite surprised, actually. But while we are in town, maybe we can kill to birds with one stone eh?” The one I presumed was Roger spoke. He wore a red velvet suit. He also smelled like cigars but also like pine and lilac. He had gorgeous blue eyes. Dangerous blue eyes. His hair was gray and he had a very high but raspy voice. The other man had thick, curly, silver hair. He was a bit taller. He was in a Purple velvet suit. He seemed a lot softer. He looked almost concerned at your fear. And the woman, she had short blonde hair, but she was stunning. She was dressed in a nice long black dress with spaghetti straps. A little showy for most of the country’s taste, but I thought it was beautiful. “I asked your name sweetheart!” Roger shouted at me, pulling me from my trans-like state. “Y/N.” “No last name?” The girl spoke. Her actual voice was very soft but her tone was so harsh that it was scarier than Roger’s. “I don’t like it much. Too many family ties.” I said without going into detail. “Look Roger. She has nothing to do with any of this. You want me.” Ben spoke. “You think I honestly care what happens to her? I don’t. But since you nobly step forward it means you must care.” He looked at Ben then focused his attention on the girl. “Lucy make sure she comes with us.” “Yes, sir.” “Roger! I swear to God that I won’t tell anyone, please! Don’t do this!” Ben pleaded. My heart started beating faster and faster. Was I about to die? What was going to happen next? “That’s enough! We are taking both of you. We will decide what to do with you after that.” Roger shouted. “Roger, while I do think we need to take care of him, he said he wouldn’t tell. She has nothing to do with th-“ the taller one spoke. “Brian! We can’t talk big and not be able to follow through with action! We will discuss it after the meeting. Get the car.” Roger looked at him. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some servant! I am your equal Rog! We run this together.” Brian whispered harshly. “But I will get the car, only because you lost THE FUCKING DRIVER!” He turned around and in 45 seconds drove a nice black car towards the alley way. Roger walked around to the passenger side and got in. “Get In or I will shoot you.” Lucy said very plainly. I did as she said and Ben followed. What kind of shit did this kid get himself into? We pulled into an empty lot somewhere I wasn’t familiar with. We sat there for hours. Roger, Lucy, and Brian stepped out of the car. At this point it was dark outside. No one had really said much, surely not me and Ben. But once they stepped outside of the car, I had my with him. “WHAT KIND OF SHIT HAVE YOU GOTTEN US INTO?! WE ARE BOTH GOING TO DIE! I REALLY DO NOT WANT TO DIE! I LITERALLY JUST MET YOU TODAY!" I whisper-shouted at him. "THIS WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN! THEY WEREN'T SUPPOS-" he started but was cut off when everyone got back into the car. Roger hopped into the driver side this time. Our next stop was a random boat launch. It looked abandoned but, it was night time so it was not going to be busy. I looked around out the window. All three of the monsters stepped outside again. It was quiet for a minute then I heard a muffled voice that I didn’t quite recognize. It felt as if they were putting something in the trunk of the car. Suddenly the door opened. “If you want to live, sit in his lap.” Roger spoke to me as he pointed a gun at my face. I did as he told and sat in Ben’s lap. Then a new man got into the car and Lucy followed. Roger got back in the drivers seat and Brian back in the passenger. The ride was a bit bumpy sitting on Ben’s lap. He wrapped his arms around my waist to steady me. The ride was short and we pulled up to the club that I frequent. This was the speakeasy that Rami and Joe got me into. The music was blaring so loud it was hard to understand why the cops haven’t busted the place. Roger opened our door, pointing the gun back at us. He motioned for us to hop out. We did as told in fear of what would happen if we didn’t obey. They walked up to the door and knocked the secret knock. A slit in the middle of the door opened up and I saw Allen. Allen was an Irishman who came here. He worked as the doorman for the club. Allen cleared his throat. “Who is it?” Allen asked. “Allen, open the goddamn door.” Roger whisper yelled at him. “No can do sir. You know the rules. Give me the code and you enter.” Allen was always a good doorman for the club. “He didn’t give me the fucking code. You know us!” Brian said. “GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!” I shouted in fear of my life. I just wanted to be somewhere I was familiar with. “Y/N! Is that you?” Allen asked opening the door. “Look Allen, let us in please! I really don’t want to die tonight.” He opened the door all the way, ushering us all in. “He is upstairs waiting for you all.” Allen said to Roger and Brian. Roger pointed his gun at us and then at the stairs directly in front of us. “Go!” He said. We started up the stairs. It was much quieter up here. You could definitely still hear the music but not as loudly as before. Lucy grabbed some rope that was hidden in her garter under her dress and tied our hands to the door handles across from the room they were about to enter. “Stay put, or I kill you both.” She smiled following the other three men as the entered the room and locked the door behind them. “How did you know the code?” Ben looked at me. “I frequent. I have friends who I think work here or something. I’m not entirely sure what they do, but they always give me the right code. Who was the other man?” “He smuggles alcohol into the states. Specifically for this club. It’s run by a sister gang of Roger’s. They call themselves The House. The leader is an old friend of Roger’s and Brian’s. It’s funny that you know the code and don’t even know the background of it.” He laughed. “What do you mean?” I inquired. “Queen. That’s the name of their gang. God save the Queen. This meeting has been planned. They probably didn’t tell them what the code would be because they thought they would guess it.” Ben laughed. “I don’t understand what’s funny.” “Oh. Just that I’ve run this far and now I’m gonna die here tonight.” He laughed more. “To think I could actually be safe.” “Ben, if you knew the sister gang was here in New Orleans, WHY WOULD YOU COME HERE?!” I whisper yelled at him. “I was mislead. I thought they were in New York. I can see now I was gravely mistaken.” “Y/N?” I snapped my head towards the stairs. “RAMI? JOE? MY GOD ARE YOU GUYS IN TROUBLE TOO?” “Y/N who did you get in trouble with?” Rami asked me, looking fearful. The door to the meeting room opened. This other man walked out. My guess is the other mob boss. He was holding a gun and he pointed it at me. “WAIT! Sir! We know her! She is not going to tell anyone!” Joe spoke up. “If anything sir, she needs a job! We can recruit her! Please don’t kill her.” Rami spoke up. “RECRUIT ME?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” I looked at them and back at the gun pointed at my face. Ben bursted into a laughing fit. “WHAT?!” I snapped my head towards him. “Y/N, your friends here are involved with the house.” He laughed shaking his head. “She needs a job? Alright. Untie them. Bring them in.” The other older man spoke. He had a unique British accent. He motioned for us to enter the room. We were standing in a dark lit room with the other man sitting in front of us behind a desk, with Brian and Roger on either side of him. Lucy guarded the door. The Alcohol Smuggler stood by the window, minding his own business. Rami and Joe stood behind Ben and I, who were seated. “Benjamin right?” The mob boss asked. “Just Ben.” He answered simply, looking completely unafraid. “Your name, sweetheart?” “Y/N.” I answered, fear making my voice shake. “Okay. Ben. Y/N. I willing to spare your lives, if you join us. We have a war coming. I need all the soldiers I can get. You either say you are in or you die. By the way my name is John. You’ve met the others. So what do you say?”

Taglist: @bitemerog @sevenseasofrog

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noona-clock · 6 years ago

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Do You Dance?

Arranged marriage au with Park Seojoon

Of course, @banana-sol ! I know this is probably not what you were imagining, but it’s what you’re getting! Let me know what you think!

Genre: Regency!AU/Fluff

Pairing: Park Seo Joon x You

By Admin B

“Father!” you cried, your brow furrowed deeply in both annoyance and surprise. “You must be joking!”

“I assure you he is not,” your mother retorted in the snippiest of tones. “Lord Park comes from one of the oldest families in the history of nobility, but it is widely known they have struggled with money for quite a few generations.”

“And what does that have to do with me?!” you snipped back.

“We’re rich,” your father interrupted. He knew your mother would not say such a thing out loud, so he’d taken it upon himself to state the obvious.

“But we have no noble blood,” your mother added. “If you can’t see it’s the perfect union, then I have raised an idiot of a daughter.”

“So, you’re making me marry somebody I’ve hardly met because he has a title and we have money? And he needs money and we need a title?”

“You are correct.”

“And... how is this fair, exactly?”

Your mother pursed her lips, just barely refraining from rolling her eyes at you. “Life is hardly fair, my dear girl. Besides, the wedding is not for another two months. You have plenty of time to get to know him before you marry him. I daresay you will find him quite agreeable. And handsome.”

“But I don’t care if my husband is handsome!” you shrieked. “I care if he’s kind! And smart! And funny!”

“He most certainly could be all three of those! And handsome! Just keep an open mind.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, letting out a short huff. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. Forcing me to marry someone not of my own choosing for such idiotic reasons as titles and money. This is my life we’re talking about! The rest of my life! You’re willing to marry me off to someone even though he may very well make me incredibly unhappy for the rest of my days?!”

“Stop being so dramatic! He may very well make you incredibly happy for the rest of your days. Now go upstairs and get ready. We’re leaving for the ball in just a few hours, and you’ll be meeting Lord Park for the first time as his betrothed. You must look stupendous.”

You let out the longest, most frustrated sigh, shooting your father a look which clearly said ‘You’re really going to let this happen?”

He simply shrugged in response, and you knew neither of you had a choice. Your mother had decided this would happen, and that was that. Both of you were powerless to stop her.

You stormed out of the room and stomped upstairs, alerting your maid you were coming. She scurried into your room and helped you dress into your very favorite dark green gown with gold, braided trim. She did your hair up in the fanciest of chignons, sticking jeweled pins here and there and letting soft curls fall around your face. She powdered your face and dabbed on your favored cedar and vanilla scent.

By the time your family’s carriage rolled up to the front of the house, you honestly felt more beautiful than you ever had in your life. But you also felt more nervous than you ever had in your life. You were going to meet your fiance within the next hour.

Your fiance.

The man you were going to actually marry.

And what if he turned out to be horrible? All the things you’d heard about Lord Park (his given name was Seo Joon, you were quite sure) pointed to the fact he was simply one of the bluest of the blue bloods and had one of the most charming faces in society. You had never heard anything of his personality. And that’s what truly mattered to you when it came to your life partner.

But you knew, even though your family had quite a lot of money, you truly had very little control over your own life. You were an unmarried, young woman, after all. You had no standing, no voice without a husband. And as unfair as that was, it was the truth.

When the carriage came to a stop, you let out a deep breath, allowing a footman to take your hand and help you step down.

To be quite frank, you despised balls. You were a fairly shy person who did not enjoy dancing, and you had only found a couple of other girls who felt the same as you. But one of your friends had just married, and the other had traveled to Egypt to become a companion for a spinster but very adventurous cousin.

So tonight, it would be just you and Lord Park. For you were positive your mother would not allow you to leave his side the whole night. And you were about to be engaged, so it’s not like it would cause a stir or anything.

When you stepped in through the ornate front doors of the Park family mansion, you found your heart was pounding with anticipation. You’d never been good at meeting people, and while you were still very much against this whole arranged marriage idea... you still wanted to make a good first impression on your future husband.

You were going to be married to him, after all. And you would rather not turn into one of those couples who lives in separate houses and barely even sees or talks to each other.

You wanted companionship, at the very least, and that most likely wouldn’t happen if you presented yourself as a shy, awkward, and unwilling fiance.

“Look, there he is,” your mother whispered after leaning in close to your ear. She nodded toward the other side of the ballroom, and your eyes followed hers, landing on a moderately tall individual with dark hair, wearing an extremely well-fitting suit. You had to wonder how he could afford such nice clothing, but you shook your head of that thought. It wasn’t your place quite yet to worry about his financial situation.

Your pounding heart sped up even more when you father led you over to him to make your introduction. You were sure you looked your best, but you never knew what to say when meeting someone for the first time. The fact this man was your fiance only made it that much worse.

You saw the moment when Lord Park realized you were approaching, your breath catching in your throat when you made eye contact. He looked as nervous as you did, though you were aware that could only be your imagination.

“Lord Park,” your father smiled once you reached him. “Good to see you again.”

The two men shook hands, and you tried to keep from biting your lip nervously. You didn’t want to mess up the tinted rose balm your maid had applied earlier.

“You, as well,” Lord Park replied with a curt nod.

“May I introduce my daughter, Y/N.” Your father turned his smile to you, and you immediately dipped into a curtsy, bowing your head.

You felt Lord Park take your hand, and you glanced up just in time to see him kiss the back of your glove.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he murmured.

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” You tried to smile, hoping it wasn’t nervous or fake.

“Do...” he gulped, and your earlier thought of him being just as nervous as you popped back into your head. “Do you dance?”

Oh, god.

“I... I do,” you answered with an awkward chuckle. “I’m afraid I’m not very good, though.”

Your father took this as his cue to leave, and you suddenly found yourself alone with Lord Park. Although, you weren’t truly alone since there were a hundred or so other people in the ballroom with you. But you felt like you were alone.

“Well, I believe we have to dance together... at least once. Since we’re... engaged.”

The way he spoke confirmed your thoughts. He was definitely just as nervous as you were, so you decided to be up front with him.

“Might I... speak candidly?” you asked softly.

He nodded quickly, furrowing his brow. “Of course, you may. Please, feel free to speak your mind whenever you’d like to.”

Well. That was a good sign. A husband who didn’t want his wife to be seen and not heard.

“I did not exactly agree to this marriage,” you began. “That’s not to say I’m wholly against it. I’m just... apprehensive. I would rather... marry... for love. I completely understand the situation, and I’m trying not to judge you before I really know you. But if I come off as, well, a bit strange... That’s why. And also I’m just not good at meeting new people.”

The corner of Lord Park’s mouth turned up into a slight smile, and he let out a soft chuckle. “I understand, Y/N. Truly, I do. I wasn’t aware of this until your father came to meet with my father yesterday. Everything had already been arranged by the time they called me in. I wasn’t thrilled, either, but hearing your side of it just now makes me feel a bit more at ease.”

“...It does?”

He nodded. “It does. I was afraid my future wife would be somebody just after my title, but...”

“That would be my mother, not me,” you chuckled. “But she’s tolerable in small doses. I take after my father, I promise you that.”

“You said you’re not very good at dancing... Do you like to dance?”

“Not particularly,” you admitted.

“Well, shall we get it over with now, then? And after, I can give you a tour of the estate if you would like.”

“Get it over with?”

“I’m not a fan of dancing, myself,” Lord Park told you, holding out his elbow so he could lead you out to the dance floor. “But we have to, so we might as well get it out of the way early, yes?”

You smiled slightly as you slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow. “Yes, that sounds like a good plan.”

Even though your fiance claimed he wasn’t a fan of dancing, he was still quite good at it. He successfully led you in a waltz, and you felt many pairs of eyes on you two as you twirled and danced your way through the ballroom. Although you rarely enjoyed dancing... you found you actually kind of had fun this time.

Lord Park made you laugh as you danced, so this was probably the reason why.

He proceeded to take you on a tour of the estate, showing you all the vast rooms and explaining the history of his family. He was incredibly polite and charming, and halfway through the tour, he insisted you call him Seo Joon.

“I find it strange when wives call their husbands by their titles.”

“It’s too formal,” you agreed with a nod.

“Exactly. And... I know, this is more of a formal arrangement, but...” He turned toward you, reaching out and taking your hand. “I would like to actually be friends with my wife. I hope... I hope we can be.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot. “I would like to be friends, as well.”

At the very least.

Seo Joon grinned, and your heart skipped a beat. Another good sign.

“Now, shall I show you the library?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“The library?!” you gasped.

“You like to read?”

“Oh, I love it,” you told him.

“Well, then, you’ll probably be spending a lot of time in here. We have more books than we know what to do with,” he chuckled.

You followed him into a nearby room, your nerves now fully transformed into excitement and eagerness.

You’d begun the evening almost dreading meeting your future husband, not knowing what to think of him or if you would ever come to like him.

Now, you felt as if you were actually comfortable with him. And you’d only met him a couple of hours ago!

You didn’t want to jinx anything, but... you had a feeling this marriage would turn out to be more than just a marriage in name only. It would be a partnership. You would be companions and friends, and you would actually enjoy each other’s company.

And maybe... just maybe... you might fall in love.

Psst. There’s kind of a part 2 to this. Read it HERE.

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