#and I don’t even have a clue and creating gif sets
Text
Petals of Affection - Part I
A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader
Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.
Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!
I know enough about flowers to fill a thimble. Really, all I know is how to kill them, accidentally or otherwise. Everything to do with the flowers in this story is courtesy of Google, so please suspend disbelief at how some of these could exist in Wyoming, yada yada. I just picked ones that fit the narrative.
Word count: 4,284
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, humor, cursing, gratuitous use of poor floral descriptions, scheming, clueless reader, fluff, eventual smut, alcohol, food, coffee, terms of endearment. POV flops around like a fish outta water. Reader has no physical description aside from having hair that gets frizzy with humidity and often dirt-covered hands, because greenhouses, ya know? No use of y/n, none whatsoever.
Dividers courtesy of the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Gif chosen because of the wonderful floral wallpaper ;)
Hope you enjoy!
Part II | Part III | Masterlist
An oasis in a world rife with death and devastation, you clung to the life the reinforced walls of Jackson offered. After years of struggling to survive each new day, you felt like you could finally take a deep breath. Everyone was no nice and welcoming, some more than others, and you slipped right into the fabric of the small community.
Within a month of your arrival, Maria assigned you to the greenhouses, having picked up on your knowledge and love of plants – particularly flowers. You must have bored her to death one too many times regaling the language of flowers over a bottle or two of aged wine while seated together on her couch. The two of you became fast friends, the kind that felt like you’ve known each other forever. It was exactly what you needed, longed for even, after long bouts of solitude.
Being close to Maria meant you visited their house often. And equally often, you would find Joel Miller there, deep in conversation with his brother about one matter or another. His eyes always flashed when you entered the house, and he’d stop mid-sentence to greet you with an effortless, “Howdy darlin’” as you followed Maria to the kitchen.
Soon enough, the soft greetings turned into more substantial conversation as the four of you dined together or gathered at Maria and Tommy’s for game night, playing whatever new board game the men found while on patrol. Laughter and friendly arguments filled the air on those nights, making it easier than ever to forget about the carnage and desolation beyond the walls.
Tonight, the four of you played Scrabble – it took Tommy finding three sets of the game to get all the letter tiles required to actually play – and your belly hurt from how hard you laughed whenever Maria challenged Joel on a word. He was better at the game than you would have thought – his reserved nature and southern twang not giving away how well-read he was.
“Denied! Fartlek is not a word, Joel. There’s no way!” Maria insisted, not willing to give into Joel’s apparent triple word score on the word that would have him take the lead in total score.
“Is to a word,” Joel returned stubbornly, refusing to remove the letters from the board. “Look it up if ya don’t believe me. It’s in the fuckin’ Oxford dictionary.”
“Oh, it is, is it? Is it in the Cambridge one, too? What does it mean then?” Maria wasn’t backing down, ripping a battered dictionary right out of Tommy’s hands to see for herself.
“Hey! I was looking it up,” Tommy yelped, shooting a wink at you as you both watched the drama unfold.
Ignoring his brother, Joel rattled off something about the word being related to running. At least, that’s what you thought he said, you were too busy fighting back tears from laughing too hard. Sure enough, he was right.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Maria grumbled, flopping back into the couch cushions. “It’s a training technique for running. Screw you, Miller.”
Unsurprisingly, the game ended shortly thereafter with Joel the victor by a healthy margin. After helping to clean up, you offered appreciation and hugs to Maria and Tommy for a delightful evening. “Next time, let’s play something less…”
“Cerebral?” Maria supplied with a frown.
“Annoying?” Tommy interjected with a grin.
Joel stayed quiet, a half-smile gracing his lips as he waited for you to finish your sentence.
“Just something that doesn’t require a dictionary or cause so much arguing,” you laughed. Waving between Joel and Maria, you added, “You two can never agree on anything! See you all tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you home, darlin’,” Joel said, rushing to put his jacket and boots on and catch up with you. When you opened your mouth to let him know you’d be fine on your own, he added, “Gotta check in on Ellie anyway.”
Maria and Tommy shared a look as Joel opened the door to usher you through. You caught them and frowned, feeling like you weren’t in on a joke or something.
The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the last remnants of winter’s snowy wrath crunching beneath your boots the only sound. You looked up at the night sky as you walked, gasping at the flash of colors in the otherwise darkened sky. Joel stopped, following your gaze upwards as you both stood mouths agape.
“That’s the northern lights, right? I’ve never seen it before.”
“Mmhmm. Aurora borealis. Pretty amazin’.”
“Beautiful,” you sighed, breath a cloud billowing in the crisp air, eyes soaking in every bit of the cosmic phenomenon.
You didn’t realize it staring up at the sky as you were, but Joel’s umber eyes were fixed on you when he replied, “Sure is.”
You stayed like, shoulders gently bumping as you both enjoyed nature’s show, until the temperature dropped further and you shivered. An awed smile remained plastered on your face the rest of the walk to your house, one Joel would never forget.
The dichotomy of the humid, warm air within the greenhouses and the chilled breeze outside confused your body, but you loved it. Sure, the humidity did nothing good for your hair, leaving it a frizzy mass around your head sometimes, but the dewy feeling on your skin always reminded you of childhood summers spent at the beach.
Tending to the various fruit and vegetable plants all morning, in what you deemed Greenhouse 1, you saved your favorite duties – the ones associated with flowers – for the afternoon. While you enjoyed caring for all the plants, you loved tending to the flowers, humming as you pruned and replanted clippings, expanding your every growing collection. If the patrol teams kept bringing you seeds and specimen back, you’d need yet another greenhouse. The council would just love that.
The creak of the door to Greenhouse Two drew your attention shortly after you switched gears and you stood, brushing the dirt from your jeans before glancing up. Your face shifted into a soft smile at the sight of Joel standing hesitantly just inside the door.
“Hey Joel, what did you bring me today?” You knew he had patrol duty and likely found some interesting plant during his travels. “Better not be western baneberry again. You know how poisonous those berries are!”
Stepping forward, Joel chuckled as you teased him. “I know now! It was one time and you’ll never let me live it down, will ya?” Thrusting his hand toward you, he dropped a small pile of seeds onto your dirt-covered palm. “Not sure what these are, but we found down by the ol’ mill. Might be something cool.”
“Might be,” you hummed, poking the seeds a little. Hopefully the cold didn’t get to them. You grabbed the nearest pot, quickly filled it with soil and sprinkled the seeds in as you tilled the top few inches. “We’ll find out soon enough what kind of treasure these are.”
Leaning back against a messy tabletop, hands on hips, Joel watched you tend to the new addition before finding the perfect place for the pot, nestled on a table amongst other seedlings. “Do you –”
Joel’s mouth snapped shut as the greenhouse door banged open next to him, a boisterous voice carrying into the warm space before its body did.
“Tangerine! Check out what I found today,” Alex, another member of the patrol team, called as he strolled right past Joel without acknowledgement. Younger and not as broad as Joel, the man held a growing affection for you, which irked the older man.
“Alex,” you sighed playfully. He was cute in a youthful, untrained puppy kind of way and had an annoying habit of calling you nicknames that made no sense. “I told you to stop calling me that. We don’t even have tangerines here.”
Snickering under his breath, Joel observed the younger man falling all over himself to impress you. Why you indulged the idiot, he would never understand.
Alex waved you off. “You love it, and you know it. Lookit here,” he said, thrusting his hand toward you. Slight though he was, Alex had large hands, and in his right one were three clusters of small, bell-shaped blooms with a purple hue.
“Prairie bluebell! Where did you find these?” Your face lit up as you took the blooms in a gentle grasp, admiring them for a moment before setting to work on replanting.
Alex prattled on boastfully about finding them just off a rocky path down near the river while Joel focused on watching you work. When Alex finally paused for breath, you chimed in with some flower lore.
“Did you know that bluebells are often called fairy flowers? It is said that the bluebells are rung to summon fairies to a meeting. But, since fairies aren’t always good, the flowers could be enchanted leaving anyone who wanders into a ring of bluebells lost in fairy woods.”
Joel snorted at the idea of Alex becoming lost in fairy woods, never to be found again. If only they could be so lucky, he thought. He knew there was more you could share about the symbolism of the delicate flowers, but it would be lost on someone like Alex.
Rolling his eyes, Joel was about to take his leave when Alex blurted, “Would you join me for dinner tonight? I heard they just got in some fresh venison.”
Absorbed in your work, you hardly heard him, and Alex repeated himself, a hint of annoyance in his tone. Joel froze, holding his breath in anticipation of your answer. Please say no, he thought. You could do so much better than this moron.
Brow furrowed, you stared at Alex, considering your response. “Like a date?”
The younger man nodded eagerly, a broad smile spreading across his lips. You glanced at Joel, not certain what you were hoping to see, and found him staring back, stone faced, arms crossed in front of his chest tightly. Giving you nothing to work with, your shoulders slumped, resigned. “Sure, I guess.”
Not the most enthusiastic answer, but you couldn’t remember the last time you went on a date and Alex was the only one asking.
You didn’t even realize Joel moved until the door closed heavily behind his retreating form.
The breeze carried a sense of change as you strolled home from your shift in the greenhouse. The weather was finally warming, ever so slightly, as Mother Nature loosened her grip on winter, letting spring slowly creep in.
Mixed emotions tumbled through your mind as your feet carried you through the streets of Jackson by muscle memory alone. Alex asking you to dinner caught you off guard – you had a feeling he was interested, but he never made any sort of bold move. The fact he finally did while Joel was standing right there threw you off balance.
Did you even like this guy?
Sure, Alex was attractive, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. But his personality made him seem more like a golden retriever, goofy and too eager to impress, than someone you could fall for. It made you wonder if there was any substance lurking under the surface.
In the absence of any other offers, did it even matter?
No, you guessed it really didn’t.
These thoughts carried you right to your front steps and you stopped, taken by the presence of something unusual waiting in front of your door.
A solitary stalk with a gorgeous jasmine bloom, a slip of paper wrapped around the stem held in place by nondescript string.
Picking it up, you held the flower to your nose, breathing in the rich, sensual aroma. The scent brightened your mood, and you slipped the scrap of paper from beneath the string. You whispered the words printed in a block scrawl you didn’t recognize.
Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.
What did it mean?
Glancing around, you searched the street and neighboring homes for a sign of who might have left the flower and note for you. The only people in sight were your elderly neighbors, married couples, and the kids from a few houses down. None of them would have left you such a gift.
Who in the world left this for you?
Would Alex do something romantic like this? You doubted it, but what else did you have to go on?
Once inside, you trimmed the stem and put the flower in a container on the counter, placing the scrap of paper in front of it.
You gazed at the flower, mulling over the riddle before you. The note indicated that you’ve shared moments with whomever left the flower. Jasmine itself symbolized love and romance. You made friends with a lot of people since you came to town – too many shared experiences and moments to choose from.
Twenty minutes and too much thinking in circles, you were no closer to understanding the clues and teetering on the verge of being late for your date. You needed more data before hazarding any reasonable guesses.
“Why do you torture yourself like this?” Tommy questioned. Sitting at the bar watching his brother pining over you was not his idea of a fun Friday night. “You should just bite the bullet and ask her out already.”
Joel shook his head. He had no explanation for why he hadn’t made a move yet. For months now, he knew he liked you as more than friends, pined over you in silence, yet he never took the next step. Joel Miller was not a coward, but his fear of losing one of the few friends he had left in the world had him frozen in place, afraid to make any moves. He couldn’t take that chance. Finally putting words to the feelings roiling inside him, he told his brother as much.
“I get it, brother. I do,” Tommy replied, thumping Joel on the back in commiseration. “But can you really say you’re ok watchin’ her go on dates with asshats like Alex? ‘Cause that’s gonna keep happenin’ unless you do something about it. And I don’t mean killin’ the dude.”
Joel shook his head. Hunched over the bar, shooting surreptitious glances your way, he had to admit Tommy was right. He could think of few things worse than watching you go on a date with someone other than him, especially with dipshits like that guy.
“I ain’t killin’ anyone, but I do have a plan. Already put it in motion, in fact.” Picking at a scratch in the bar, Joel shifted his gaze from you to Tommy. “I might need your help with some of it. Maria’s too.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me all about this grand plan then.”
Unsurprisingly, the date was a dud.
Alex had the personality of a goldfish rather than a golden retriever, and the two of you had nothing in common. He also interrupted you mid-sentence no less than three times – once could be considered a mistake, but three times was an unforgiveable offense as far as you were concerned. You stopped making an effort about halfway through dinner and wished for a hole to open up beneath your seat and swallow you whole.
Worst of all, he acted like an entitled dickhead when you refused dessert, thanked him for the date, and let him know there wouldn’t be a second one. He’s lucky you didn’t knee him in the nuts before walking away from the table.
How unfortunate that dating sucked nearly as much now as it did before the fucking apocalypse. It was unfair, really. At what point did being a woman stop sucking?
Lamenting your lack of success in the relationship department, you trudged home. You wondered what Joel was up to – you caught a glimpse of him at the bar with Tommy earlier and he didn’t look happy, but you didn’t see him when you left. Part of you longed to visit him, maybe have a drink and sit on his porch gazing at the stars together like you’ve done before. But it was already late, and you didn’t want to bother him. Hell, he could have a woman over already, which would be mortifying if you interrupted. The thought sank unpleasantly in your mind until you got to your house and pushed it away.
A little gift waited for you on the porch, just like earlier. An orchid this time. Symbol of love, thoughtfulness, and charm. Your index finger traced the delicate petals with the gentlest touch as a smile slowly crept its way across your lips.
Another note was attached, and you plucked it from beneath the same kind of string, eyes devouring the words.
Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.
The flower wasn’t completely cold, so it had to have been left recently. Brow furrowed; you glanced around but there was no one in sight. You wracked your brain trying to figure out the identity of your secret admirer, but you were at a loss. Prior to dinner, you briefly thought Alex was the culprit, but now it was obvious he didn’t have a romantic bone in his lanky body.
You heart knew who it longed for it to be, but you refused to consider it. He didn’t want you that way, of that you were certain.
Giving the orchid the same treatment as the jasmine earlier, you tucked the stem into the same container and placed it on the coffee table so you could admire the blossoms while you fell asleep on the couch. After all, why bother with a big bed without someone to share it with?
Saturdays were your day off, but the sun shining through the curtains you forgot to close the night before ruined your plans of sleeping in. Grumbling at the unnecessary brightness, you stumbled into the kitchen desperate for coffee. The coffee tin felt light in your hand when you reached for it and, sure enough, you saw nothing but a tiny amount of powdery remains of coffee beans at the bottom.
God dammit. Barely eight o’clock in the morning and this day already had two strikes against it. It wasn’t looking good so far.
Not caring that you still wore the clothes from your date the night before, you quickly brushed your teeth and finger-combed your hair into submission before leaving the house. Pausing at the door for a moment, you debated whose house to go to. Joel always had coffee – it was his drug of choice – but Maria and Tommy were closer.
Not awake enough for decision-making, you let your feet carry you in whichever direction they wanted… which was exactly three feet onto the porch before they stopped. Another flower with a note sat waiting for you.
Your mood brightened considerably at the sight of the double-flowered, funnel-shaped Eustoma, petals a pale purple. The rose-like flowers weren’t native to Wyoming, but you got lucky months ago when someone found a seed packet. You were shocked the seeds were still viable. Did someone pluck it from the greenhouse? You gave away a few cuttings not that long ago, but unless they were replanted, there’s no way they’d last this long. It had to be from the greenhouse. Where the hell else would they get one?
The addiction-like need for coffee temporarily forgotten, you rubbed the Eustoma gently against your nose, confirming the lack of scent when you breathed in and wondered what the little note would say this time.
Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.
Stepping back into the house, you added the flower with the others, mulling over the symbolism of the Eustoma. Whoever left it must be trying to tell you that they appreciate and admire you. But when you add it with the others, what did it all mean?
As good as you were with flowers, you were awful at solving mysteries. A detective you were not. Besides, it was still too early for this kind of puzzle.
The desire for coffee returned and you left the flower quandary behind as you made your way to Joel’s.
Joel didn’t expect to see you today, his day looking up when he opened the door to find you on his doorstep. His heart immediately sank when he noticed you wearing the same clothes from the night before, hair mussed.
“Your date must have gone well,” he said, eyes roving over your clothing, knowing his tone was less friendly than you were used to from him. “What are you doin’ here this early?”
You were clearly thrown off kilter by his remark, frowning as he stepped back to let you in.
“Wha—” you started to question him but shook your head. “I just came to see if you had any spare coffee. I ran out without realizing it.”
“Didn’t have any to offer Alex this morning? That’s a damn shame.” Joel felt the heat of your confused gaze on his back as you followed him into the kitchen.
“What are you talking about?” You sighed, staring at him with furrowed brows.
Avoiding your searching gaze, Joel poured a cup of coffee, adding the perfect amount of sugar you liked, and glowered at the cup as he handed it over. “You’re wearing the same clothes as last night. I assume you did the walk of shame this morning only to find you didn’t have any coffee.”
“It’s too early for your judgmental shit, Joel. You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?” You turned to leave, mind trying to wrap itself around why this day was turning out so oddly. Mercury was in retrograde again, it had to be. You and Joel never spoke to each other like this. As you reached the door, not caring that you basically stole his coffee cup, you called over your shoulder, “And the date wasn’t even like that, for the record.”
“You’re welcome for the coffee,” Joel muttered as you let yourself out of his house.
“You didn’t have to be such a dick, you know.” Ellie appeared around the corner; arms crossed over her chest.
“I know. I couldn’t help it. The thought of her with that jackass just…” he sighed. “I got a little carried away, but it’s fine. The plan is still in play. Did you take care of what I asked you to?”
“You come up with some strange plans, old man. Yeah, I got it done.”
Fed up with the day and everyone in town before noon, you hid away in your house for the rest of the day. The interaction with Joel weighed on you the entire afternoon and well into the night. What was up with him? Were you being too sensitive, taking his comments personally?
If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was jealous you went on a date with Alex.
Unsurprisingly, you slept poorly and woke up groggy and unfocused Sunday morning. It was going to be a long day in the greenhouse if you didn’t find some coffee to power you up. Getting ready earlier than normal, you planned to stop at Maria and Tommy’s to see if they had coffee – there was no way you were going back to Joel’s after yesterday.
Opening the door to another brisk, early spring morning, the glint of sunlight on the porch drew your eyes to yet another flower waiting for you. Four in a row now, how long would this carry on for?
One of your favorites, you picked up the stalk with six lavender blossoms, violet in hue, and breathed in the fresh, light scent, savoring the sweet undertones. Fingers caressed the downy leaves, making you feel calmer, mellower, which was exactly what you needed.
You kept sniffing the floral scent as you read the accompanying note, finding it fitting.
Lost in your scent, the answer is present.
“Tell me you have a secret admirer!”
Startled, you gasped, gaze shooting to Maria as she approached your house, two mugs of coffee in hand. You face shifted into a smile at the sight.
“I’m… um, I guess. I’m not sure?” You shrugged accepting the mug Maria held out toward you. “Thanks for this, I ran out.”
“I heard,” she replied. “Joel’s on the hunt for more, don’t worry.”
“Of course he is,” you rolled your eyes.
“Soooo…” Maria gestured to the flowers and note in your hand, seeking an explanation. “I feel like there’s a story here.”
“There is, I just don’t know what it is yet,” you admitted. Inhaling the calming scent of the lavender once again, you added, “This is the fourth one I’ve received. Each one has its own riddle. Let me show you.”
Leading the way into your house – you still had an hour before your shift started – you showed Maria the flowers and each note that accompanied them. In small print, you added what each flower symbolized to the corresponding note and numbered them in the order you received them, hoping every little detail would help you sort out the puzzle.
Maria looked over everything, smiling softly at each note. “Whoever this mystery man is, he’s quite romantic.”
“Right?”
“What do today’s flowers mean?”
“In the context of the rest of the flowers so far, love and devotion,” you replied, heat warming your cheeks.
Maria whistled softly. “Someone is down bad for you, girl. Any ideas who it could be?”
Shrugging defeatedly, you admitted, “Not a clue. The one person I’d want it to be would never do something like this.”
Maria hid a smile behind her mug as she sipped her coffee. “How can you be sure?”
tbc
#jettsflora&faunachallenge#writing challenge#joel miller#joel miller x reader#the last of us#joel x female reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fandom#pedrostories
202 notes
·
View notes
Text
Scatter Brained
Anon request, "Hello! I saw that you had Bayverse TMNT asks up, and I really like your writing. I have a weirdly specific request. Can I get a Donnie X a Female S/O who is an anxious, plus-sized cinnamon roll having a confession and first kiss? If you feel more comfortable writing gender neutral readers I understand. I just happen to be female."
~xXx~
If there was one thing Donatello could clearly process, was that the gal beside him made his brain an absolute mess. A jumbled organ of scrambled thoughts and emotions. The worst part about it? She had not a single clue. Such as now as the two sat on a small, empty hill with a pretty view of one of New York’s parks in the middle of the night. With the still warm air of spring transitioning to summer and the glistening lights of city life backdropping this secret hang out spot, it made for a decently romantic set up. Something Donnie also couldn’t get out of his mind as he fidgeted about on his friends picnic cloth, fiddling with a grape juice box between his fingers.
“See, I told you a night picnic would be nice.”, (y,n) gleamed wiping away some of the sauce from some special sandwiches she made for this occasion.
With a gulp, the purple clad ninja was quick to advert his gaze from the view of her napkin dabbing at the corner of lovely plush lips, a dusting of pink coming to his cheeks.
“I-it is. Thanks for inviting me again.”
“Well, don’t thank me yet. We still have desert!”
Donnie reached out to hold open the lid to (y,n) woven basket, curiously peeking inside as she reached in to pull out the most delicious looking pie he’d ever seen.
“Made it myself with some help from April. Beautiful, no?”, (y,n) winked, holding up the prized possession.
With the way (y,n) sat forward, the light of the park street lamp seemed to create a sort of angelic ray that cascaded around her, making her appear even more impossibly gorgeous in Donnie’s eyes.
“Yeah, beautiful. . .”, Donnie murmured off, his gaze lost in the image of her.
While Donatello was fighting a losing battle with Cupid, (y,n) on the other hand was fighting a battle with her overthinking mind. It wasn’t new to her the feelings she harbored for the mutant terrapin, if she’d truly thought back on it, she’d admit to having had a crush on him from when they first met long ago. However, being the anxious person she naturally was, (y,n) feared that something was amidst their friendly relationship. Lately, Donatello had seemed far off whenever they would hang out. Somedays he’d be awfully quiet, others he’d seem very frantic. It was very worrying to (y,n), and after it became more apparent that Donnie was in fact acting differently around her, it was no surprise that her troubled mind was quick to jump to the worst conclusions.
Cheerful expression faltering, (y,n) lowered the cake into her lap, gaze drifting to the roundness of her folded knees. It was hard, but with a shaky breath, she spoke up.
“Hey, Don . . .can I, uhm, can I ask you something?”
The change in attitude was immediately noticed by said turtle, his brows knitting together in worry.
“Yeah, of course! Is everything alright?”, he cautiously asked.
(Y,N) set the cake aside as she adjusted the way she sat to be more comfortable before finding a plastic utensil to nervously fiddle with.
“I-I’m sure I’m just overthinking things, but did I do something to upset you?”
Her pained inquiry hit the tall terrapin like whiplash, confusion and concern just as evident in his voice as the expression on his face.
“What?”
A lump found it’s way into (y,n) throat as she quickly panicked as his single worded reply.
“It’s just, well, you’ve been acting really off whenever I’m around! You either hardly ever say anything, or you seem distressed. I’m worried that I did something to make you feel that way around me. D-did I say something bad? C-could it be that maybe. . .that maybe you find me. . .”
The saddened girls voice fell off into a quiet tremor, focus shifting to force back the prickling tears at the corners of her eyes as a life time of insecurities brought on by society came tumbling back. (Y,n) didn’t need to finish her sentence, for Donnie already knew what exactly it was her choked voice was alluding to. Knowing her for as long as he did, there were things she’d confided in him about. Things that he found blasphemous that anyone would treat such a lovely person as her in such a way just because her larger body size didn’t fit the manuscript society preached of.
“I-I’m sorry.”, (y,n) quietly sniffled, rubbing furiously at her blurring vision. “I-I don’t mean to be so dramatic.”
Donatello was never so quick then in that moment as he lurched forward from his sitting position to hold her smaller hands in his.
“Hey, hey, look at me.”
With a shaky breath (y,n) all but had to force herself to meet his softened gaze. His hazel eyes that she found so beautifully handsome radiated reassurance, and his tone and words were to match.
“You’ve done nothing to upset me (y,n). If anything, it’s me who should be apologizing to you.”
Now it was her turn to be confused, repeating Donnie’s early, “What?”
With a soft grin, the ninja turtle gently gave her soft hands a squeeze.
“All those times I was acting weird, well it was because of you, but not because I was mad or anything. Gosh, it’s just, you make me feel so nonsensical in the best of ways! I’ve always got my thoughts together, am always able to focus on anything I put my mind to. Yet, when you’re around, I can’t think straight. I either feel like I’m floating on cloud nine or like my heart is about to fly out of my chest. You’re such an incredible, kind, and lovely person. I always heard that true beauty is what’s on the inside, but you’re both. Absolutely beautiful inside and out.”
Heat radiated across (y,n)’s whole face, and just as Donnie had described what she’d do to him, her own heart was about make a great escape. All those nights imaging how this confrontation would turn out, she’d never imagine it going like this. It was always Donnie admitting his annoyance and disgust towards her, not the complete opposite that of which was a deeply heartfelt confession.
Her silence and agape mouth had Donnie feeling suddenly very nervous himself. With the realization of what he had just done wash over him, he let out a short cough, quickly releasing (y,n)’s warm hands and sitting back in his spot.
“I know that was probably a lot, sorry. To be honest, I’m not sure how much longer I could stay sane and not say something.”, Donnie sheepishly chucked.
There was a small moment of silence between the two, Donnie debating whether or not he should just tell (y,n) to forget he said anything and be doomed to a lifetime of an awkward friendship, when barely loud enough to be heard above a breeze, she muttered.
“Do. . .do you really mean all that?”
She had asked so shyly, peeking up from beaneth lovely lashes and even now, after having rubbed her face red to stop the flow of tears, Donatello thought she was the most gorgeous person he’d ever seen. With zero hesitation, Donnie nodded.
“All of it.”
A pause, and then a light giggle that (y,n) couldn’t help, her cheeks now crimson from being flustered as she tried to hide behind her hands but still peaked through spaced fingers.
“Wow, that’s, oh wow. Maybe being upfront isn’t as scary as I thought.”
At that, Donnie couldn’t help but let out a light laugh as well, gratefully taking a slice of pie (y,n) was quick to offer him. Shyness was a personality trait he had known her to be from day one, but it had never deterred him. If anything, it made her all that much more endearing to the tall ninja, especially in the rare times he’d seen her step bravely out of her comfort zone, just as he was about to experience in mere moments after taking a bite from her homemade pie.
Another fit of giggles had Donnie look questionaingly down to (y,n), swallowing the delicious treat with a raised brow.
“You’ve got a little. . .”, she grinned, pointing to a spot of cream on the corner of his lips.
“Oh? Did I get it?”, Donnie asked after unsuccessfully wiping at his cheek, the area he mistakeningly thought she’d pointed towards.
“Nope, not even close.”, (y,n) wistfully replied, slowly leaning up to close the distance between them.
Within agonizingly slow moments, Donatello felt the softness of (y,n) lips connect gingerly with his. It was sweet, slow, and filled him with warm elation. Pie long forgotten on the picnic blanket, Donnie reached forward to gingerly cup (y,n)’s rounded cheek, leaning down to melt further into the shared kiss. Donatello could solve just about anything thrown his way, but never had he calculated coming clean about his adoration for (y,n), and much less receiving a kiss that her normally timid self had initiated. But hey, what could he expect when she made him so scatter brained.
~xXx~
#bayverse donatello x reader#bayverse donnie x reader#bayverse donnie#bayverse donatello#bayverse tmnt#bayverse tmnt x reader#aged up tmnt#female reader#anon request#imababblekat's writing
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
staying in
Author’s Note: feeling cheesy and silly and lazy. ☺️😝🥱
staying in
Hashira x Reader, Kamaboko x Reader
Word Count: ~900
CW: mild sexual content
Song Inspo: Low Key by Russell Dickerson
~faqs~
An evening in consists of…
… almost getting scammed by an astrology website with Zenitsu, before finally agreeing that the free version is fine, and who believes in astrology anyway? Clearly, you’re made for each other (despite there being some ~areas of conflict between your charts).
… board games with Inosuke until one of you rage quits, and the other has to convince them to: stop sulking in the bathroom, and play again. Who rage quits usually depends on the game, and you’re much better at goading him into another round than he is at bribing you.
… a quiet stroll out with Gyomei, so not exactly staying in, but still more peaceful and mindful than going to a bar or attending an event. He compares your presence to the radiant fullness of the moon, and you tuck a fallen flower behind his ear. “How do you know what the moon feels like?” He doesn’t quite know how to explain gentle, mystical tug of moonrise, so he settles for, “I can feel you, and that is more than enough.”
… cleaning and redecorating Kaburamura’s cage with Obanai. It’s a little gross, and a lot of a fun. From teasing him for his obvious doting, “Does Kaburamura really need six donut cozies?” to being flat out rejected, “Sooo that’s a no to body painting? It’s safe for humans! How could it not be safe for snakes?” You end up falling asleep as he dutifully photographs Kaburamura curled up on your shoulder #guess I’ll finish cleaning by myself.
… doing Tanjirou’s make up, and him doing yours. If you don’t own any make up, then you go on a field trip (minimal budget). You randomly pick themes (old fashioned via “from a hat” or modern via “app for raffle draw”), set a time limit, and then send photos of your final looks to your Hashira + Kamaboko group chat to decide on a winner.
… making the most outlandish cocktails (or mocktails) you can think of with Mitsuri. They have to be intricate, original, AND taste delicious (~just okay suffices too), or you put on a pair of socks. By the end of the evening, you’re drunk (or sugar high) as heck, and have at least four pairs of socks on.
… a project with Shinobu. Whether that’s tackling a Lego set, making candles, or deep cleaning a specific room (likely the kitchen or bathroom), the laughter is ever constant, frustration to be expected, and resulting pride and excitement at the final product a worthy reward — not to mention the way she kisses you afterward! *happy sigh*
… cooking with Kyojuro #bet you didn’t see that coming #sarcasm intended teehee. Sometimes it’s complicated, hours long endeavors; other times it’s spaghetti; and there’s always take out if your fancy Huntsman pie doesn’t go to plan. He’s almost unbearably efficient when it comes to cooking tidily, and chops vegetables so quickly that you just marvel at how his fingers are intact.
… watching a movie with Sanemi. This includes: ~arguing over which movie to watch for a solid hour (give or take), another twenty minutes for snack prep, and another half an hour to spontaneously design and build a pillow fort (for the optimal movie watching experience, of course). Even when it’s a movie he swears he despises, he’ll still stay awake through the whole damn thing because it matters to you, and you matter to him.
… creating scavenger hunts for each other with Muichiro. You roll dice to determine who gets to claim which room(s) and in what order, set up your hunts, and then hunt (duh)! Winner gets to choose dinner (or dessert if you already ate dinner), and loser gets to cook aforementioned dinner (or dessert). You usually win, but he notices when you begin making his clues easier, and promptly informs you that he’d rather lose honestly than win on Easy Mode. “Your happy noises whenever I feed you are prize enough for me.”
… planning your future with Giyuu. It’s easy to get caught up in the mayhem of Life™, so evenings in are a grounding, intimate opportunity to reconnect and recenter with him. From cuddling on the couch to dancing in the kitchen to watching the moon’s traverse through your favorite window, you discuss current stressors, recent successes, and your gratitude for each other. It may seem simple, but it’s the little things that fit most snugly in your hearts. “Where do you see us in a year? Five years? A decade?” you ask. His answer remains constant: “Together.”
… reading with Tengen. He’ll read to you, or you to him; you’ll share a book, or the couch, or the bed; and you alternate who gets up to brew more tea. If you prefer audio books, then he’ll occasionally eavesdrop, and when it’s your turn to be on tea duty, you more often than not return to a cute sticky note (with dramatic commentary regarding the chapter you’re on) bookmarking your page.
#hashira x reader#kamaboko#preferences#modern au#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer#zenitsu x reader#inosuke x reader#gyomei x reader#obanai x reader#tanjiro x reader#mitsuri x reader#shinobu x reader#kyojuro x reader#sanemi x reader#muichiro x reader#giyuu x reader#tengen x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Your Rightful Place
Relationship: Crowley x Reader
Content: suggestive language, nudity, sexual content/foreplay
Summary: Years after making friends with the King of Hell, your relationship has taken many strides to get you closer. Now lovers, you feel distant from him as a mere human. Crowley urges you to grow alongside him, pairing the two of you together to become an unstoppable force.
A/N: this was meant to be a smut-free oneshot, but nothing went as planned :P
It was late evening, a glowing moonlight illuminating the floor of Crowley’s master bedroom. You twisted under the silk sheets to face your lover. The two of you had come a long way to get to this point, overcoming many obstacles side by side. It had been tumultuous but worth it. As long as it meant you could be by Crowley’s side to support him.
He gazed at you getting lost in thought, as you often did. A lot more often, lately, though. Crowley smiled knowingly at your slightly furrowed brows and stare intently set on the bed space between you.
“My love,” purred the King. “You seem like you’ve wondered off somewhere.”
Your eyes met his, realizing how deep in your head you had been. Placing a hand on one of his own, you tangled your fingers with his, your tone soft and distant.
“I’m here.”
He raised your conjoined hands and planted a soft kiss across your knuckles. His lips were as soft as the sheets you laid on, the rough stubble around his mouth providing a tickling friction against your skin. You smiled at him and his token of affection.
“You looked like your mind wandered off. Care to clue me in on what’s in that head of yours?” Crowley brushed a loose lock of your hair back to see you fully, framing your face warmly in his hands. Your hand found his again, processing what to say.
“I love you… being with you. What we’ve created and done together, I wouldn’t change for anything,” you started. The King looked at you intently, listening to your every word with earnest.
“Sometimes,” you continued, “I feel like… even though we’re together, and I know that I’m valued. I don’t feel like I’ll ever be equal.”
If Crowley had a true human heart it would’ve broken at your words. Yet, he did understand that pure human emotion: a hint of greed. Or perhaps, that wasn’t that case with you. But he knew humans better, knew that they wanted power. Hell, they had been fighting for it for thousands of years, all creatures had.
Even still, he knew you weren’t a selfish person. At least, not completely self serving. Anything you did was to make yourself stronger to support others. What you said hadn’t surprised him, he could sense that there was much more to you upon meeting all those years ago.
“My darling,” he whispered, “I am…. hundreds of years old. Hundreds. The position I am in was an uphill climb from the start.”
He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer toward him.
“But, being who I am is not easy. I have made decisions, brutal and cruel ones, to have my power. Those kinds of trials… that you would have to endure… it’s not something I would wish upon you.” Though the words struck deep, his voice was kind and sincere.
“I understand. I just,” you cut yourself off, “I think I could do more. Be more than I am. And… I feel like the only way I would do that is with you. Beside you.”
Crowley hummed in acknowledgement as you spoke, raising his eyebrows as he assessed what you said.
“You do realize that you wouldn’t be human anymore, yes? Nothing human has ever matched that level of power. It would be a great toll.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that,” you replied softly, shifting your head closer to his, lips inches apart. The air between you became thick with tension. Would you dare to say what was truly on your mind?
“What are you on about, darling?” He posed to you.
“You can turn me into a demon. If you need to, if that’s what it takes.”
Crowley wore a new expression of shock, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. Your statement hung in the air, more akin to a declaration. The King grazed his fingers along your back with feather-light touch.
“Sweetness, I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
“But could it be done?”
“Regardless of that, it could be fatal-“
“Can you do it?”
He froze and gave you a stern look, his eyes flashing with a deadly seriousness, “I won’t.”
A pain spread in your chest as his words hit you. There was simply no way for this to happen, not in a way that he would assist you with.
“Darling, if power is what you long for, there are other ways.”
Though tears pooled and fell past your cheeks, you anticipated what he would say next. His expression hardly edged into anything remotely angry, much to your relief.
“What does that mean…?”
“It means,” he drawled lazily, “that there are other powerful entities out there that don’t require that torture of getting to where they are.”
Wherever he was leading with this you had no clue. The rankings of Hell seemed pretty distinct, but it seemed like Crowley was alluding to something else entirely.
“Have you ever imagined yourself working with potions, herbs, and a bubbling cauldron?” Crowley teased you, wiggling his eyebrows.
“A witch? You’re telling me that being a witch would be equivalent.” Your tone fell flat, unamused at his jest. He offered a shrug. “I didn’t think witches could be all that powerful.”
“Make sure to never say that to my mother, or she’d have you coughing out your insides with a single word,” he huffed out a breath with disbelief. It was true, though. His mother had spent centuries studying and evolving in witchcraft, and it had brought her a virtually eternal life and power beyond anything of a standard human.
“I think it would be worth a try. At the very least, safer than whatever foolishness you were thinking about becoming a demon. But, I still have a feeling that there’s something else you’re not telling me.”
That was also true. Although you had broken the ice on the subject, the deepest truth of it hadn’t been said.
You muttered, “I want to feel worthy of being with you. To be able to help you.”
Crowley rolled over until he hovered above you, his arms framing your shoulders. He lowered himself onto you to meet his face to yours.
“You really think you’re not worthy?” To this, you nodded your head slightly, though he smiled. “My love, I can assure you that the thought had never crossed my mind.
You gave him another unamused stare, “Sure it hasn’t.”
The King simply stared, a smile still plastered to his lips, “You can choose to believe me, or not believe me. But, it’s the truth regardless.”
A moment passed before he spoke again.
“You want to be my Queen, don’t you? Is that what you want?”
You froze beneath him, not sure how to reply. But your silence gave Crowley the answer he needed. Suddenly his lips crashed to yours, moving in a languid rhythm that brought a hum out of you. He broke away enough for your lips to part.
“And what if I did make you Queen? To let you rule by my side, it would be quite the role,” he murmured against your jaw, climbing his way to the soft spot under your ear. You wriggled beneath him at the sensation while a creeping blush spread across your cheeks.
His voice became more gravelly than before, rattling against your neck, “Picture it, sweetheart. You and me… on the throne, the epitome of elegance and power. Yes… I can picture it now.”
As his mind began to wander so did his hands. Crowley rested his weight on one arm while the other was free to roam over you - across your collarbone to your chest, from each perked nipple down to your stomach, stopping just above the tightening between your thighs. You let out a bated breath, once again overcome by his touch. Crowley breathed a laugh against your skin.
“Can you imagine the ways I could fuck you senseless on that throne? I can. And it… is… glorious.”
His mouth moved downward, leaving slow kisses along the way before reaching your breasts. Your back arched into his touch in an attempt for more friction. Crowley let out a laugh against a perk nipple, resting between his lips while his tongue lapped in circles across the bud. A cry fell past your lips.
“It fits, you know,” he muttered against your supple skin, “you being by my side. A Queen. The potential you hold, my dear…”
A stray finger made a path up your thigh, skirting upward to your sex, aching for him. He passed a single digit through your folds, a soft cry falling past your lips at the touch to your swollen clit.
Crowley raised his head from your chest to gaze at you, a longing look in his eyes. He hadn’t looked this entranced in a while, and it was only whenever he was with you. You gave him a breathy smile, your eyes half lidded with lust.
“Yes,” whispered the King, “You would make a perfect Queen.”
He dipped lower toward your thighs, “Absolutely perfect.”
————
Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, let me know; I have plans for this to become a series if you would like to see it happen. Happy reading!
#spn#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#spnfandom#supernatural smut#crowley supernatural#crowley x reader#crowley spn
123 notes
·
View notes
Text
The new stylist
Tom Felton x F!reader
WC: 2.2K
Summary: Y/N is the new stylist on Harry Potter set and quickly becomes Tom’s small crush.
Warnings: It’s just lame. Additionally grammar errors (I’m not a native speaker, sorry for all mistakes!), kiss, some slight curse words, calling names, let me know if I forgot about sth. I don’t see too many imagines with Tom so even though I hardly have time to write, I decided to do so and create something for Tom himself. I know a lot people love him (me too ofc) so here it is, I hope you’ll like it.
I wrote if for my lovely friend @nobodybutapathetic . Kei helped me a lot during the past few days and I am truly thankful that the destiny sent her to me. Have a great day/night dear and a lot of luck during your exams!
Take a deep breath, inhale and exhale. Relax. Those people will like you - nope, hold on - they’ll accept you. That’ll be enough. I came from abroad only to become a stylist on Harry Potter set. The youngest stylist. I had no idea what to expect, what kind of reaction I’ll get from the cast and if my abilities will be good enough. I wanted this job and once I got an acceptance, I knew I had to do everything in my power not to fuck something up. And there I was, standing and waiting by my makeup station, mentally cursing myself. I could have applied for a basic makeup artist job in my small town so I wouldn’t be dying inside and shitting my pants but I had to prove being worth something more. Was I overreacting? Of course I was. Overthinking and being a drama queen was one of my specialities, right after being and artist.
But…
“Well, hello, who are you?” He asked with his brows furrowed. By saying ‘he’ I mean Tom. Tom Andrew Perfection Felton. He wasn’t exactly my idol but I found him very attractive since the very first time I saw him in the Philosopher’s Stone. And then, once he stood right in front of me, he looked more mature, fantastic, bombastic, out of world so just like always. He had his Slytherin uniform on and he came to have his makeup and hair done.
“Hi, I’m Y/N and I’m a new stylist. Nice to meet you, Tom.” I said, with a nervous smile on my face. His expression softened and a shy smile appeared on his lovely face. I don’t even know when he grabbed my hand I kissed my knuckles in possibly the softest way. I only know that my face has gone red. Scarlet. Or any other shade of red.
“Oh alright, so my first question is if you want me to prepare you or maybe you’ll trust other stylists more and-“
“Of course I want you to work with me. You got this job for a reason and I trust you.”
He then sat on the nearest chair and sent me the most adorable smile I’ve ever seen. I think I made a good first impression, didn’t I?
“So, tell me, Tom. Have you ever wore a full makeup on set before or maybe your previous stylist used to apply only a bit of powder or concealer under your eyes?” I asked, looking everywhere but his eyes. Yet, he was only staring at me which made me go even more crimson.
“They used to do this and that. I truly don’t know what you mean now.” He laughed.
“Fine. So before I start, I need to do a skin care first so your face will be nice and well prepared for the makeup. Do you know what kind of skin you have? Is it dry or oily maybe?”
“Uhh, normal I guess?”
“Even better. So just close your eyes and I’ll take a good care of you, alright?”
“As you wish, darling.”
Darling.
I craved to hear this word coming from his mouth but I never thought he could direct it to me. It sounded absolutely heavenly and I won’t lie telling you that I almost fucked my job up because I’ve been thinking about this name so intensely. Happily he seemed to not having a clue about what I was doing.
“I’m going to apply the thinest layer of foundation now. It feels very light on skin so it won’t make you feel uncomfortable, I promise.” I said while opening the foundation bottle. Tom only nodded, his small smile still visible. Once I started applying the product, he opened his beautiful, ocean eyes and looked at me with a soft expression. He didn’t say a word which made me hold my breath for quite some time.
“I’ll go with a concealer now and then I’ll set it with powder and makeup fixer …” I kept on rambling while he was just looking at me and analysing my face. It ended up with him falling asleep while I was finishing his face and then started working with his soft hair. Good to know that he actually trusted me so much.
Nevertheless, after finishing my work, I had to wake him up which resulted in the purest view I’ve ever experienced. Tom was a sleepy mess. Cute mess. When his eyes finally landed on me, he smiled sweetly and then he checked his look in the mirror. I knew he was truly happy about the result, so was I. After he got up from his seat, he gave me the sweetest kiss on the cheek and whispered a quiet “thank you” which had me die inside.
What a shame I couldn’t work with him anymore. Why? Well, the director decided to let me work with the interns only because I needed some practice on set and preparing the most important part of crew wasn’t exactly the best idea. To say that I was pissed off is like saying nothing. Well, hello! I’ve made Tom looking even more fabulous than he actually was! Wasn’t is enough to let me work with everyone? Well, let’s say every great work has its greater issues. Or maybe it’s just me who was simply unlucky. However, I must admit that I felt satisfied anyway because I had a chance to meet Tom and even though I could only prepare him once, it was still the hugest privilege.
***
It was mine 5th month on set and yet I had no chance to even look at Tom. His role in the Order of the Phoenix turned out to only last for five minutes of total screen time. Or even less so he rarely appeared on set. Additionally he had another movie he was playing in so his time was limited. Yet, when he came one day, with his older brother Chris, the whole crew was dying from laughter due to Chris’s hilarious sense of humour. Tom seemed so similar to him if it came to joking. I barely could hold my laughter when they started bickering.
“You know, Chis isn’t exactly a type of an artist. Acting is lame, and dance is like ‘fuck off’.” The blond laughed. “Pity. I think you’d look extremely sexy in a tutu, bro.” He said which made everyone bust out laughing and Chris only rolled his eyes, smirking.
“Have you told your friends about your ban from the dvd shop already?” Chris asked which made his brother gone pale. “Don’t look at me like that, Thomas. You were the one who wanted to-“
“Don’t you dare!”
“Easy, maggot.”
Naturally Chris haven’t continued this story while Tom was nearby but some time later he told everyone that Thomas wanted to steal a DVD with a porn video from a shop but unfortunately got caught and banned from the store. Oh Tommy, what a poor thing.
A few days later, I saw Tom sitting alone in the dining hall, during breakfast. He smiled as I entered the room and we exchanged shy “hi”. I could feel his eyes on me for the whole time while I was preparing my food (a cup of coffee which was unhealthy af especially before eating). I felt like he wanted the give me a lesson about a healthy food which would be hilarious since he was the one having fast food for breakfast. But…
“You’ll get in the tire.” Daniel said to Rupert, while entering the hall. I almost dropped my tea spoon, after hearing them. I furrowed my brows instantly. What the f-
“I want to roll you down the hill after work.” The brunette added.
“Are you crazy? I may get hurt.” The ginger boy responded, scared.
“You’ll be in a tire, chill.” Dan said, sipping on his juice.
I looked at Tom and he looked at me. Both pretty surprised. I sat on a counter while sipping my coffee and observing the two “gryffindors”.
“Alright, have you ever seen a car crash?” Dan asked and Rupert nodded.
“The car was ruined.” Grunt replied.
“And the tires?”
The look of the honest shock appeared on Rupert’s face.
“And the tires were absolutely fine.” He said with widened eyes. Then he smirked. “I’m in, I want you to roll me down the hill in a tire.”
At that moment Tom and I were exchanging amused looks while the two of our friends kept on discussing their phenomenal plan. Once they left the both of us bursted out with laughter. They were impossibly out of world.
“Do you think we should inform someone about their ridiculous plan?” Tom asked after approaching me. From the closer distance I could notice his natural dark hair slowly growing which meant one thing - next bleaching session.
“Rules are rules. You mustn’t do anything harmful. So yes, absolutely yes.” I replied, taking another sip of my coffee however suddenly Tom took my mug away. I looked at him with a questioning expression and he just narrowed his eyes.
“Seriously? What about the breakfast first?”
“This is-“
“Oh please.” He shook his head. “I have some spare chicken nuggets. Come and eat at least one, will you?”
Puppy eyes. Oh, those precious puppy eyes. As much as I wanted to say no, I couldn’t. Firstly because I wasn’t be able to refuse, secondly due to his hard yet delicate grip on my wrist. He pulled me towards his table and sat me down on one of chairs. I had no time to even say a word before he put the whole nugget in my mouth. Well, I’m not a baby? I guess.
“If you don’t want to be fed like a newborn, you have to eat healthier.”
I almost choked myself. Says who? He ate almost three whole sets of McDonald’s meals or lucky meals or happy meals- idk how it’s called honestly. I rarely visit places serving fast food. Not that I am a fit freak - absolutely not. I just prefer cooking myself.
“Considering the fact that I already ate one, just as you asked, wouldn’t you mind giving me my coffee back? I’m about to start a very tiring day with loads mermaid characterisations so I need caffeine more than I need air.” I mumbled, raising my eyebrow. Tom looked me up and down, then looked at my coffee mug and back at me.
“Three more and you’ll have it back. Promise.”
“You already broke one, that’s not fair.”
“I do it because I care, darling.” Again. I almost fainted. I know that many of you may consider this name being just normal and nothing special but believe me, I craved it. I needed it in my life. “I see you’re going scarlet every time I call you like that. Pleasure for me, darling.” He smirked and I bumped his shoulder. Don’t you dare thinking you can play with me like that.
“How’s your present stylist?” I asked, wanting to change the subject desperately.
“Oh, she’s fine. Unfortunately she’s not a fan of the skin care you introduced me to but I think she’s enough I can ask for.”
“Happily your skin didn’t fall off so I consider it a success.”
“I remembered everything you told me about the skin care, you know? I had run to the store right after hearing the sad news about your inability to work with the important cast members. I probably bought the whole shop but my face feels like a baby bum.” He laughed and I nodded, taking a small bite of the nugget that he tried to feed me with. “Perhaps you want to have a closer look?” He added and leaned closer to me, almost not leaving any space between the two of us. I could feel his breath on my lips and our eyes were just at the same level. He was looking my features up and down several times before placing a tender kiss in the corner of my lips. I felt butterflies erupting in my stomach and my cheeks burning.
“Well, it’s almost 7 and I-“
“It’s absolutely fine to like me, you know?”
Oh lord
“Not to mention, that I like you too, love.”
What?
“Are you going to look at me like that all the time? Close your lovely mouth before you start drooling.” He teased.
“Wait, what did you just say?”
“That you should close-“
“No, before.”
“Do you want me to repeat it?”
I nodded several times as he smiled, his cheeks flushed. At least I wasn’t alone if it comes to blushing.
“I think I’ll better show you.” He said with a smirk and then…
He kissed me. He kissed me straight on my lips. His arms pulled me even closer to him which resulted in sitting on his lap. At first I was stiff however after a while I wrapped my arms around his neck and I kissed him back, much to his satisfaction.
“Ha! I won 20 pounds!” Rupert cheered and the both of us broke the kiss immediately. “I knew that after months of his sighting and talking about Y/N, you’ll finally get together.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be rolled from the hill in the tire?” Tom asked, causing everyone to burst into laughter.
“Later.”
I could say much about the crew but they for sure were just idiots. Idiots which I truly loved.
#dracotok#draconic#draco fic#draco x reader#draco x y/n#draco#draco x you#draco fluff#draco fanfiction#draco lucius malfoy#draco imagine#tom felton#tom felton imagine#harry potter#potterhead
158 notes
·
View notes
Text
A full transcribe of JOEL MILLER'S dialogue/lines from the TV show THE LAST OF US.
EPISODE 6 - KIN
Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.
I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤
FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE
☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.
FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:
...gimme the gun. Gimme the gun, Henry.
Henry, no!
__________________
And the gun.
Just someone passin’ through. Take the gun out, two fingers only. Put it out of reach.
I’m lookin’ for my brother.
I haven’t told you what he looks like.
A bit.
No. Ellie!
What did I just say?
Nevermind her. I need you to tell us where we are.
We’re somewhere here. Exactly where? And your answer better the same as your wife’s.
Well, you found a great place to hide, I guess.
So you haven't heard the name Tommy?
You got any advice on the best way west?
__________________
They’ve lived here a long time. Put that back.
Shut up.
I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m fine.
I said I’m fine! Just the cold air… all of a sudden.
__________________
Don’t start. It’s too close to dark. There’s some caves along the river. We’ll set up camp there, cross in the mornin’.
We can get our own rabbits.
Just keep movin’.
__________________
Come down from there. You’re gonna break your neck.
No.
Okay?
Oh, it’s a “we?”
It’s never been an option. Maybe… an old farmhouse. Some land. A ranch.
Sheep. I would raise... sheep. They’re quiet and do what they're told.
And what about you, where you gonna go?
Sally Ride.
It’s a little late to start wonderin’.
Tried what?
Well, I reckon it’s a lot more complicated than that. Marlene, she’s a lotta things, but… she's no fool. If she says they can do it, they can do it.
I’ll do both. Get some sleep. Dream of… sheep ranches on the moon.
__________________
You gotta wake me up if that happens. You can’t do things like this.
I’m responsible for you, okay?
Uh-uh.
You wake me up next time.
__________________
Fine.
__________________
You don’t know how to whistle?
No.
Talent.
Huh.
You can handle the shootin’. Not so sure about the dressin’.
The part where you take the guts out.
__________________
You’re no Will Livingston.
Yeah. Don’t ask me. I don’t have a clue.
__________________
Get behind me.
We ain’t lookin’ for any trouble. We’re just passin’ through.
How ‘bout we just talk this through?
Okay. Easy.
It’ll be okay.
There’s no infected out here.
Like I said, we’ll just move on.
I’m just lookin’ for my brother. That’s all, nothin’ more.
Joel.
__________________
Tommy!
I came here to save you.
__________________
Thank you, ma’am. Been a while since we had a proper meal.
Sorry. Ellie, let’s mind our manners.
What’s wrong with you?
Ellie.
Ma’am, we’re grateful for your hospitality an’ all. But it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.
Congrats.
__________________
And you said infected?
No, he can’t. How do you keep this place quiet?
You draw power from the dam?
So, uh, communism.
We’ve been doin’ fine.
Yeah. Okay.
You’ll be fine.
__________________
Been a long time. Doesn’t seem like you aged much.
Pshoo. Christmas trees and bacon? Pretty decent set up.
She’s fine. Alright.
Oh, yeah. She’s the daughter of some Firefly muckety-muck. Tryna find her family somewhere out here. I was headin’ in this direction, so…
There’s a payment. So, you know where they might be, these Fireflies?
It’ll be easy for us seeing as you can headshot infected from half a mile away, which is a bunch of bullshit, by the way.
Oh, come on. I made it across the country. The two of us can make it from here to Colorado.
What, ‘cause your wife won’t let you?
She the one who kept you off the radio? Is that why you stopped messaging me back?
I’m your brother.
No, I heard. Wrong people might show up. So is that what I am? Am I the wrong people?
Those things I did, Tommy, those things that you judge me for, I did those things to keep us alive.
If you knew the shit that I’ve been through, Tommy, tryin’ to find you these last few months-
Guess we’ll find out.
What else am I supposed to say?
We’ll grab some supplies and be outta your hair in the mornin’.
__________________
This ride to the university, is it a suicide mission?
You’ve had people go that way and come back?
She’s immune.
Ellie. She got infected, but she didn’t get sick.
Tommy. Tommy, I saw her get bit myself. That was months ago. Months. She’s immune.
It was Marlene. She hired us to smuggle her to some Fireflies. It went bad. Tess got bit. She made me swear to take the kid. It was her dyin’ wish. What the hell was I supposed to do? We made it as far as KC, and then… You know, she saved my life there… from another kid. Five years ago, I would’ve destroyed him. But she had to shoot him to save me. Fourteen years-old. Because I was too slow and too fuckin’ deaf to hear him comin’. And I saw… I saw a man kill his own brother to save her while I just watched. And today I thought that dog was gonna tear her apart because it smelled somethin’ on her. And all I did was stand there. I couldn’t move… I couldn't think of anything to say. I just… I was so afraid.
You think I can still handle things, but... I’m not who I was. I’m weak. Lately, there are these moments where the fear comes up outta nowhere, and my heart… feels like it’s stopped. And I have dreams. Every night.
I don’t know. I can’t remember. I just know that when I wake up, I've lost somethin’. I’m failin’ in my sleep. That’s all I do. It’s all I’ve ever done… is fail her again and again.
I’m just gonna get her killed, I know it. I know it. I have to leave her.
I mean, it’s why you took off on me, right? To make up for the things we did? Well, here’s your chance to bring your kid into a better world. You’re younger than me, you’re still strong. You said it yourself, you’ll come back. You have to take her. And you can’t tell anyone, not even Maria. Tommy, you're the only one I trust. If anyone else sees those bites on her, what’s under her skin… they’ll shoot her. It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you. I swear.
__________________
Ellie…
Listen, um…
I came here to talk to you.
What exactly did you hear?
I made this decision for your own good. You’ll be way better off with Tommy. He knows the area better than I do-
Of course I do.
No. Don’t say another word.
You have no idea what loss is.
You’re right. You’re not my daughter. And I sure as hell ain’t your dad. Now come dawn, we’re goin’ our separate ways.
__________________
No. I came here to steal one of these horses and go.
I know. Anyway… that was thirty minutes ago and I guess… you deserve a choice. Still think you’d be better off with Tommy-
Okay.
Hold onto both.
General direction?
Countin’ on it. Can I borrow that?
'Cause Maria took mine, you know?
__________________
Wide right. You’re flinchin’.
I made it bigger than I should’ve. Eject the cartridge.
Mm-hmm.
Okay, give it.
Mm-hmm.
A deep breath in, slow breath out. You squeeze the trigger like you love it.
Gentle… steady. Nice and slow.
__________________
No. The country was too big for that. Back then, there were basically two main ways of lookin’ at things. Some people wanted to own everything. And some people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all.
Neither. I just did my job.
That’s right. Houses, stores… that kinda thing. We were called “contractors.”
Yeah. We were cool. Everybody loved contractors.
__________________
Right. It’s called a “turnover.”
Yup.
Basically… but violent.
Well, how ‘bout that? Made it in five days.
Still time to find out.
__________________
Team mascot. It’s a kind of sheep.
They’re probably in the middle. Safer.
This way.
__________________
Yup.
Sort of adults. I think it was just as much about partyin’ and findin’ themselves as anythin’ else. Figuring out what they wanted to do with their lives.
So, I’ve been thinkin'.
I don’t want a sheep ranch actually. I mean if the deal is I can do anything?
Well… when I was a kid I wanted to be a singer.
Why is that funny?
No.
You’re already laughin’.
Fair enough.
__________________
Must be from the old labs.
First time seein’ a monkey?
Lookit.
__________________
Mm. No guards.
Yeah.
Yeah.
This is a packin’ list. Something you make before moving.
Well… least it ain’t Clickers.
All the pins lead there. Maybe gettin’ ahead of the weather… Better facilities? I don’t know.
Out the back.
Ready?
__________________
FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE
#joel miller#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#joel miller tlou#joel miller the last of us#joel miller dialogue#pedro pascal character dialogue
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Home at Last - Ominis x FemReader
Summary: Ominis finally returns to the Gaunt Estate. It's all that he remembers, except he's the one who's changed. He navigates his parents in search of any clues about Ancient Magic and his ancestors.
Word Count: ~7,200 words
Read my other Ominis Fics Here
Warnings: Child abuse, mentions of child abuse, manipulation
----------------------------------------
Standing in front of the iron gate, Ominis clenches his wand tightly in one hand and his suitcase in the other. Despite not having been back to the Estate in years, it all feels the exact same. The gate resonates with layers of protective charms and dark magic. He can barely make out the circular emblem locking the gate in place, which he’s sure has a gaudy ‘G’ etched at the center. The feelings he used to harbor for this place hasn’t changed either as his feet refuse to move to take the final steps forward.
He closes his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath, then finally approaches. The gate shutters open for the wayward heir and he walks towards the manor. Under his boots, he feels patches of grass growing between the once trimmed stone path - occasionally kicking some loose bricks as he passes. The steps leading up to the door aren’t fairing much better, deteriorating under his weight and he hears the sounds of pebbles and debris hitting the ground.
The massive double door is his last chance to turn around. With one last sharp inhale, Ominis flick his wand at the door. It groans and whines as it slowly opens. Ominis steps inside, the smells of old wood and marble greet him along with a scent of dust. The still silence sends a brief chill down his spine then the door slams shut, echoing throughout the manor in a deafening boom and rattling him. His back straightens and he knows there’s no turning back now.
He notes how there’s not as much furniture by the entryway. In fact, as he walks through the manor towards his old bedroom, the place is practically sparse. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought they had moved without telling him. But, he does know the harsh truth of the matter and he can’t stop a scornful smirk at how much his proud family has fallen. Oh, if Salazar Slytherin could see the deteriorating state of his esteemed bloodline now, Ominis laughs to himself. There hasn’t even been a single house elf scurrying through the halls, now that he thinks of it. Indeed, his family is truly in tough times for his Mother to forgo her house elves.
He rounds the corner and heads down the long hallway of the east wing towards the last door on the right. With another flick of his wand, his wards pacify then the bedroom door unlocks and shudders open. Waving his wand around, he’s surprised to find he still has a bed. It seems his room is wholly untouched - his four poster bed on the far right wall, his large oak desk in front of him against the window, then his wardrobe on the left wall.
Setting his suitcase on the bed, creating a cloud of dust in the air, his mind starts to drift back to his days here - his days before the Sallow twins and Hogwarts. A soft sigh escapes him as he heads towards his old desk.
Through the layer of grime, his fingertips find the familiar scratches and knicks exactly as they were. He sits down in the chair and recites a spell to unlock the drawers. Notes, books, amateur drawings, and other various knick knacks are tucked away inside - all as he left it. One journal in particular gets his attention. The leatherbound book is cool against his touch and he flips open to a random page to read.
Each day feels like a struggle, a battle. I don’t know what’s worse - Father when he ignores my existence entirely, or when he does acknowledge my presence.
I yearn for his approval. I try to be the son he wishes me to be. But everytime I try, I’m only met with his harsh, cruel words as he berates me - his words laced with obvious disdain and disapproval. It’s days like today that I’m thankful for my blindness, so as to not see the matching disgust which accompanies these words.
Cimsy was able to procure me the spellbook I requested, and I’ve managed to create charms to protect my room and desk. After the incident with Marvolo, I pray I’m able to find brief sanctuary in my room. It’s a shallow comfort - as these charms are rudimentary at best - but I take it all the same.
Next year, I’ll be at Hogwarts. Next year, I’ll be far, far away from here. Next year, I’ll become just as talented as all the wizards I’ve read about in my stories. I’ll be a hero - rising above adversity and slaying fearsome monsters.
Ominis skims his wand over the entry several times, recalling that day all too well. Many memories he hasn’t thought about start to surface. He gently places the journal on the desk then reaches back inside the drawer. Searching along the underside, he feels a shallow, circular indent - which he presses. A soft click reaches his ears and he smiles, tracing along the side until a protruding piece of wood meets his fingers. He opens it, his fingers just barely touching the hidden contents.
“Young Master.”
Shutting the drawer with a swift movement, Ominis whips his head around with a scowl, which quickly melts into a more gentle expression once he realizes who’s at the door.
“Cimsy,” Ominis grins as he stands. “It’s been too long. How are you?”
The old house elf limps into the room, her bare feet dragging on the marble floor.
“Cimsy is most pleased to see the young Master back,” Cimsy sounds more worn, aged, and tired than he recalls. He holds back his pitying frown as Cimsy continues.
“Cimsy has been quite busy since the others were sold. Cimsy tried to clean your room before you arrived, young Master, but Cimsy could not get in. Clever charms, young Master. Too clever for Cimsy.”
“I apologize. I forgot they were in place before I left,” Ominis smiles, “I’m sorry I haven’t visited you, Cimsy. Truly. I've missed you, and our walks in the garden.”
Cimsy chuckles, airy and weak, “Cimsy has missed the young Master Gaunt as well. Cimsy has been sent to retrieve the young Master. Mistress Gaunt wishes to see you, young Master.”
Ominis’ smile fades into a tight grimace, and he nods, “Very well. I shouldn’t keep her waiting. Lead the way.”
Cimsy bows, then starts her slow shuffle towards the parlor room.
Along the way, Ominis is reminiscent of all the times he’s walked to the parlor - through all the winding, rug covered hallways and past all the portraits no doubt staring at him as he goes by. Cimsy opens the door to the parlor and a rush of warm air hits his face.
“Mistress Gaunt, the young Master is here, as requested.”
Ominis strides into the room, registering the presence of his mother by the window lounging on the chaise. By the way her arm is angled, she’s no doubt holding onto a wine glass.
“Have lunch prepared, Cimsy,” Mother’s voice is cold, detached, and without inflection. It sends a shiver down his spine despite the order not being towards him.
“Right away, Mistress,” Cimsy says, snapping her fingers to apparate to the kitchens.
Mother sets down her glass with a clink then rises from her perch. She slowly turns to face him and Ominis feels her sharp eyes upon him. She flows towards him with soft steps and the air chills once she’s in front of him. He notices that she’s not as tall as she once was as she’s no longer able to loom over him. Instead, it appears he’s at least above eye level with her.
“Oh, my little Ominis,” she coos in a far warmer tone than earlier. The change has always jarred him, but he maintains a neutral expression - even when her cold hands cup either side of his cheeks.
She turns his head, examining him, “My, my, how you’ve grown into such a handsome young man.”
Her long fingers stroke through his hair - landing on the back of his neck to bring him into her embrace. Ominis is stiff in her arms as she places a kiss on the top of his head.
“I have missed you, my darling boy,” she whispers. The stench of tart wine fans across his face. Her strong perfume consumes the rest of his senses.
“I’ve missed your letters, my sweetling. Do you know how much worry and anguish I’ve been in? Do you even care?”
Ominis winces at her sweetly sharp tone, her nails threatening to rip into him. He replies as evenly as he can.
“I apologize, Mother. I didn’t mean to cause you distress. My coursework is quite demanding and it requires my full attention.”
Mother’s hands move to his shoulders, her nails digging into him as she yanks him out of her bosom. The heat of her glare prickles his skin and he does well in keeping his blank expression.
“‘Full attention’?! Are you saying I am not worthy of your ‘precious’ attention? After all I’ve sacrificed for you? After all I’ve done for you! This is how you repay my kindness? My love?” her voice wavers, signaling the beginning of tears starting to form.
Ominis swallows the lump in his throat, “I didn’t mean to upset you, Mother. I know you’ve done much for me. Which is why I’m here now.”
She tsk’s then seethes, “You’ve been running away from your duties. Your responsibilities. I have done everything for you. I have created a path that’s best for you, yet you continue to act like a juvenile. I never should’ve allowed you to go off to that school. It’s pulled you too much away from me.”
“Please, Mother,” he says calmly, “Hogwarts is what’s best for me. You said so yourself. If I’m to be truly worthy as your son, then I must be educated. You know this.”
Sensing her growing annoyance and rage, he quickly adds, “I’ve longed to be here with you, Mother. I… missed you. And I haven’t forgotten my duties. I’m trying to prepare for them - as to make you proud. I only want to be a worthy son to you, Mother.”
She’s silent, her hold on his shoulders relax and she shifts a hand up to cup his cheek once more. He remains stoic and still, suppressing the chills and discomfort behind clenched teeth.
“You’ve changed,” she coos while rubbing her thumb across his cheek. “For the better it seems. It’s good you’ve come to your senses. And for you to return home. Return to me.”
He can’t bring himself to force a smile, so he only nods, “Of course, Mother.”
Mother sighs, letting him go then taking his arm to lead him, “Come. Let us eat. I’m sure you’re starving.”
Ominis doesn’t fight her, he needs her. At least until he finds what he’s looking for. Until then, he’ll play the part he knows so well - the good, obedient son.
Arriving at the dining room, they sit across from one another while Cimsy brings out their meal. A bland watery broth wafts up to his nose along with the welcoming scent of warm, fresh bread.
“Cimsy!” Mother hisses. “Surely this must be a joke. You do have something else prepared.”
He hears Cimsy wring her hands together as she stammers, “C-Cimsy is deeply sorry, Mistress. Cimsy could o-only make this. Mistress did not give Cimsy enough to buy-,”
“Shut up!”
Cimsy silences immediately while his Mother fumes. Ominis grips his spoon tightly, wishing he could speak up. But, he remains silent.
“Leave us. I expect something more worthwhile at dinner,” Mother sneers.
Cimsy doesn’t hesitate to leave. Their meal is in silence, thankfully. Once it’s done, Ominis finally decides to ask,
“Mother, would it be alright if I were to read through some of the records in the archives?”
There’s a long silence and Ominis holds his tongue to keep from groveling. His true intentions are on full display and he worries he may have shown too much.
“Why?” She questions.
“It’s time I’ve learned more of our namesake and heritage. I want to continue family traditions,” he replies quickly with the excuse he’s been repeating in his head since he first arrived.
Another long silence, and his tongue is bleeding from his sharp teeth digging into the flesh.
“I’ve been looking forward to this day,” Mother beams as she stands. Ominis releases a breath, going to stand as she continues, “Our family history is one which many don’t have the privilege of knowing.”
She goes over to Ominis, gripping his arm again as she leads him to the library. He can’t deny his excitement, his curiosity. The implications of his ancestors having a connection to Ancient Magic would give him as many questions as answers. He wonders if his path was always meant to intertwine with his love’s. The thought troubles him - the idea of him and her fated to be together instead of wanting to be doesn’t sit well with him. That his actions up to this point have been meaningless as they were always meant to happen this way. He shoves the idea aside, not wishing to dwell on the possibility any longer.
Mother pulls him through the dusty library to the locked room at the back. She produces her key, the door softly unlocks then opens, and they head inside the musty room. Mother taps a glass object and he hears the soft humming of what he assumes to be lights. Despite not having been in the archives in some time, it’s exactly as he remembers it.
The archives is a long rectangular room, adorned with shelves, cabinets, and display cases. The air carries a faint scent of aged paper and taxidermy beasts - beasts that have long since been wiped to extinction. Framed portraits of ancestors, their watchful gazes keeping a vigil over the room, stare into Ominis. He can imagine the sneers of these portraits as the disapproving mumblings of his blindness reach his ears.
Along the walls, rows of sturdy wooden shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, neatly organized and laden with volumes of journals, diaries, and bound manuscripts. Cabinets with glass doors stand proudly, showcasing delicate heirlooms and cherished mementos. A silver pocket watch, a set of wands, and worn leather gloves are among the treasures preserved.
In the center of the room, a large oak table serves as a workspace, adorned with magnifying glasses, quills and ink, and carefully arranged parchment paper.
The room exudes a sense of order and purpose, meticulously sorted and organized through generations. If there is one thing the Gaunt’s pride themselves on - it’s their family heritage.
“Ah, where to begin?” Gliding around the room, her fingers dance along the spines of journals and tomes until she stops on one. She pulls it from the shelf and flips it open.
“Gormalith will be of interest to you,” she begins then dives right into reading a rather boring account of what Gormalith had for breakfast and the subsequent torture of the house elf which made him said breakfast.
Before she can continue, Ominis interjects, “I was hoping I could find a certain time frame.”
Mother stares at him, shutting the book with a huff, “And what time frame would that be, Ominis?”
“I was thinking upon it the other day, and I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with any of our history during the 15th century.”
He can feel her brow raise, but she hums as she heads to the other side of the room. He follows, and notes when she lingers on a certain row of books.
“I doubt a boy your age would be interested in that era,” Mother dismisses then heads towards another shelf. “You would be far more pressed to know about Aron and his exploits in the east. In fact, he was able to capture a Ceasg during his voyage across the North Sea.”
Ominis’ brows pinch, but he suppresses his aggravation with a stiff nod, “If that’s what you believe is best.”
Mother continues to read to him about the accounts of his ancestors, and Ominis nods along - his mind drifting to the one row which she lingered at. As the afternoon shifts to evening, Ominis senses his mother growing bored of the history lesson.
“We should check on Cimsy to ensure dinner is being prepared,” she shuts the diary and grabs onto his arm.
“I wouldn’t mind staying here for a moment longer,” Ominis states then quickly adds, “If that’s alright.”
Her grip on his arm tightens, “You shouldn’t be in here by yourself, my sweetling.”
“I can handle myself,” he replies far too sharply. Her nails dig into him to confirm as much. “Besides, I’m utterly fascinated by our family heritage.”
“Ominis-,”
“You were saying I’ve been neglecting my duties,” he says as calmly as he can. “Perhaps this is the best way for me to understand my place. To appreciate the path you’ve set out for me, and understand my role in our family.”
Another long pause makes his shoulders tense.
She has a light, amused laugh before she places a kiss on his cheek, “Oh, my curious little boy. Very well, I’ll leave you to it,” she places the key into his palm. “Lock up when you’re done. I’ll have Cimsy come fetch you when dinner is ready.”
Mother leaves, and Ominis lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He stuffs the key into his pocket then heads quickly over to the shelf he’s been dying to investigate all day. He grabs as many journals as he can carry and takes them to the oak table. Plopping down into the worn leather chair, he begins to skim through the diaries.
According to what his love told him, Isidora would’ve been at Hogwarts in her youth around the 1450’s with the latest dates being before 1500 - when she became a professor. He grimaces at how wide of a year range that leaves him, but she also mentioned Headmistress Fitzgerald serving Hogwarts during that time frame. Rackham, Rookwood, and Bakar were also names he could search for. Hopefully, that’ll be enough for him to go on.
He’s barely made it through the first diary when Cimsy informs him of dinner being ready. Ominis is reluctant to leave, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. As he heads back to the dining room, he stops at his room - free from prying eyes. He takes out the archives key and conjures a duplicate. Satisfied, he hides the key in his desk then heads to dinner.
The air in the dining room is tense, and Ominis pauses for a moment as he enters the room. His father is at the head of the table while his mother is sat next to him. Ominis is hesitant as he takes his place across from his mother. The stench of scented smoke and tobacco emanates from his father. Some things truly haven’t changed, Ominis muses to himself.
Cimsy summons forth their dinner, a roast with potatoes and carrots, then she refills his mother and father’s drinks.
Ominis isn’t unfamiliar with the tense atmosphere - especially if his father is near - but it unsettles him all the same. The quiet clanking of their silver utensils hitting the fine china and chewing is the only noises to be heard. Ominis tries his best to not look like he’s rushing to finish eating, but he longs to leave this dinner.
“It seems you received a letter today,” Mother says in a low voice.
Fear clasps around his throat before he tilts his head with feign surprise, “Oh? From who?”
Paper rustles and tears, sending his heart beating frantically in his chest.
“Dearest Ominis,” Mother begins with a terse frown lacing her voice, “I hope you arrived safely. I miss you already. I hope to hear from you soon. Sincerely yours.”
Ominis lets out a quiet breath, thankful she did not write anything too sweet to him.
“Who is this?” Mother questions.
“A friend from school,” Ominis replies with no hesitation.
More rustling of paper as Mother re-reads the letter once again.
“And this friend,” Mother draws out, “who are they?”
“Just a friend. Nothing more,” Ominis counters.
“Friends do not write, ‘I miss you already’.”
Ominis can’t help his smirk, “Perhaps not yours.”
Mother scoffs, igniting the letter on fire - the smoke reaching his nose and making him scowl.
“It’s a girl, isn’t it? This friend?” Mother hisses. “Tell me, are you involved with her?”
“I’ve already said, she’s a friend. Nothing more. I don’t know what else you wish me to say on the matter. I can’t control what she writes. Perhaps she does hold some infatuation with me, but I do not return the affection,” Ominis clenches his jaw, his hand gripping on to his pants.
He hates it. The lies. But, he can’t afford to argue with Mother. Not when he’s only just started his search.
“She’s a Mudblood, isn’t she? It’s why you aren’t telling me her name,” Mother states. “Filthy things. I’m not surprised one is trying so hard to cling to you. She probably sees you as her only real way to any sort of status.”
He sits straighter, suppressing his anger at his mother’s vulgarity, “No. She’s not of pure standing, so you know I have no real interest in her.”
“You shouldn’t be fraternizing with Mudbloods in the first place,” Father’s deep, grating voice interjects with disapproval lacing his words. “Even speaking of them is enough to ruin my appetite.”
“Your father is right. Why are you writing to a Mudblood?” Mother demands. “She’s not worth your time. Not when there are plenty of others you would do well to correspond with.”
“She… has connections,” Ominis states. “Connections I require.”
“What sort of connections? What connections could a lowly half-breed possibly offer you that I cannot provide?” Mother’s voice raises with every word.
“Does it matter? Shouldn’t you be pleased that I’m at least capable of forming connections on my own?” Ominis hates how quickly he’s rising to her goading. But he can’t stop himself. “With how things are going here, it’s a wonder you aren’t praising me for finding anyone willing to associate with us.”
“Do not speak to me that-,”
“Enough!” Father’s voice booms as he slams his hand down on the table - rattling all the dishes. “I grow weary of this discussion and your disrespect. Leave!”
Ominis doesn’t need further prompting and he quickly rises from his chair. Before he can fully leave, his mother’s voice calls out.
“Leave the key.”
He sighs, going through his pockets to produce the duplicate, and slams it at the end of the dining table. Then he quickly retreats to his room. As soon as the door shuts, he falls back against the door with a heavy breath.
He wishes this was the first time a dinner had gone sourly, but alas it isn’t - and it won’t be the last. The dusty smell from earlier has faded and he catches the faintest aroma of clean sheets. Oh Cimsy, he smiles to himself. She does too much for him.
Pushing himself off the door, he heads to his desk to write to his love - since going to the archives now would be risky. The stationary in the top drawer is slick under his fingers, and he enchants the quill to begin writing.
He lays in bed, waiting as time moves slowly by. He hopes to leave soon to continue his reading. With his siblings being mercifully absent, he can somewhat relax as he waits. His mind drifts to her. What might she be up to? He focuses on her, and he senses her worry, concern, and anticipation.
Turning to his side, he reaches out in a vain attempt to feel her next to him - to comfort her. She voiced her displeasure of him going as he left, and her concerns were valid. But, he’s tired of sitting idly by as she wrestles with this Ancient Magic on her own.
The tips of his fingers warm and, for a moment, it’s like she’s touching him back. In his mind’s eyes, he can picture the dip in the bed of her laying next to him - facing him with a soft smile as he traces her face. Despite having just been with her, it feels like they’ve been apart for too long.
“Don’t worry, my sweet,” he whispers. “I promise I’m fine, and I’ll return to you soon.”
Feather light touches brush along his cheek and comb through his hair. A pleasant shiver rolls down his spine, and the pull of sleep starts to draw him deeper into her phantom caresses. With a sigh, he reluctantly gets up from the bed and heads to the archives.
Sneaking towards the library is a feat he’s done numerous times. He has all the portraits which would rat him out mapped, and since he doesn’t require the aid of light he can stay hidden in the dark the whole time. Once in the archives, he continues reading the journal from earlier.
He repeats this process over the course of the week, growing more and more frustrated as the days pass. Navigating his mother and dealing with the forced dinners is exhausting enough, but reading through the mundane, sadistic ramblings of his ancestors is a form of torture in itself. He barely sleeps, not that he has any desire to in this place.
Since the letter, Mother has felt it apt for him to truly understand why Mudbloods are ‘lower, primitive beings’. These ‘lessons’ are enough to bring him to the edge. He’s nearly voiced his displeasure on several occasions, if not for the reminder that he hasn’t found what he’s looking for yet. And if he were to go against his mother now, then everything would have been for nought. So, he remains silent, letting his mother prattle on.
He gets a brief solace when Mother is ‘too tired to deal with him’, allowing him to roam about without her watchful gaze. It’s in these moments he retreats to the gardens - overgrown and dying - and he naps in his secluded spot behind the bushes under the gnarly tree.
It’s another late night as he flips through the pages of Amphelisia’s diary, finding her accounts to mirror his own in terms of schooling. It’s during her Fifth Year that things get interesting.
I can’t believe the events that transpired today. By my troth, a student joined Hogwarts as a Fifth Year! Completely unheard of. I didn’t hear her name over Mathias’ prattling, but she was sorted into Ravenclaw. Tragic really, as I would’ve been keen on observing her.
How could someone be admitted into Hogwarts so late - is the question on everyone’s lips. I’m determined to find out more anon.
Ominis nearly rips the page as he quickly turns it to find out more. He skims through the entries until a familiar name jumps out at him.
Isidora Morganach is by far the most ghastly, presumptuous girl I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. Not only does she have all the professors charmed, but she has most of the class absolutely enamored. Methinks it’s because she’s new, and, similar to a two-headed beast, she’s a spectacle.
But the final insult was when we had our mock duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts today. She swiftly dispatched my Protego charm as if I didn’t even have it up then she knocked me off the platform. The entire class laughed. LAUGHED! At me! I shan't forget this.
He can’t believe it. He’s finally found mentions of Isidora. He continues his reading until another entry strikes his interest.
Isidora may have her uses after all. In Transfiguration, I struggled with the conjuration of a simple cup. Meanwhile, Isidora had no issue conjuring her own. Before Professor Rookwood could see, Isidora conjured a cup right on my desk. Professor Rookwood was so impressed with me, he used ‘my cup’ as an example for the rest of the class. Perhaps, befriending her may be advantageous to me.
A few entries later, he finds mentions of Amphelisia showing the Undercroft to Isidora as their own private hideaway. He grins as he reads over their growing, albeit reluctant, friendship. But as he finishes the diary, there’s no mention of Ancient Magic. Amphelisia comments on Isidora being gifted in magic, with her spells being quite powerful, but Isidora never discloses the nature of it to Amphelisia.
Ominis searches the shelves, summoning down more of Amphelisia’s dairies. He knows the hour is growing later - with the morning soon upon him - but he’s close. He has to be. It isn’t until Amphelisia is a young woman when Isidora is mentioned again.
I received the strangest owl today. My old friend, Isidora, wrote to me. The contents of the letter were somewhat troubling, but she insisted we meet. I shall see what she wants, and I pray it isn’t a waste of time.
The next entry makes him scowl.
Isidora gave me a book of some kind. Locked, and I have no way of opening it despite my best efforts. Always the clever one. I’m tempted to throw it away as burning it does nothing.
The rest of Amphelisia’s diary makes no mention of Isidora’s book, nor what she decided to do with it. Ominis paces the room, scanning the shelves for any signs of this possible journal. He frowns - cursing Amphelisia for possibly throwing away the one clue he desperately needed. Collapsing in the leather chair, Ominis debates about continuing his reading or leaving. He taps his wand in thought when a familiar vibration makes him pause.
His breath catches in his throat as he turns his wand towards the source. It’s… just like hers. He scrambles from his seat, rushing towards the vibration at the corner. Throwing open the cabinet door, he pulls out the boxes until he’s able to reach the one he’s needing. He tears his way into the box, shoving aside the various knick knacks and trinkets until his whole arm shoots up with magical sparks.
There, in his hand, is a journal. He slowly picks it up and cradles the leather-bound journal in both of his hands as if it were a delicate, priceless jewel. He laughs, almost manically. This is it. It had to be.
Footsteps approach the door to the archive and Ominis can’t spare any more time in rejoicing. He shoves the journal into his coat pocket then he grabs a random object in the box to hold.
The door flies open and Mother storms inside.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She exclaims as she strides over to where he is.
“What does it look like I’m doing, Mother?” His reply is calm and level.
She stands above him and snarls, “It looks like you’ve made a mess of things in here.”
Ominis places the artifact he’s holding into the box and rises up. He’s practically eye level with her and he doesn’t back down from her scornful gaze. He feels her take a step back.
“H-How did you even get in here?” She questions in a quiet voice.
“I made a copy of the key, obviously,” he replies with a smirk.
“You…,” she falls silent. “You… insolent little child!”
The air parts and the sound of skin hitting skin rings in the air. His cheek blooms in a heated flame and he registers the pain which accompanies it. He turns his head back towards her, unphased.
“If you’re done, I’ll take my leave,” he says in an eerily calm tone.
He doesn’t wait, but instead brushes past her and heads out of the room. He hears her calling his name, but her cries fall on deaf ears. Once in his room, he’s quick to write to his love - informing her of his finding and his soon to be departure. His hand shakes as he commands the quill to write, giddy to be with her once again. As soon as his owl takes flight, it doesn’t take him long to have his bag packed.
Before he leaves the room, he goes back to his desk. So many memories, tucked away - and likely to be burned once he leaves. He sits back at the desk, reaching into the drawer to find the protruding piece of wood. He opens the secret compartment to grab what he’s kept hidden for so long.
He holds the ring delicately in his fingers. The cold metal is intricate with stones inlaid within the band to accent the well-sized jewel at the center. He’s sure it’s a beautiful piece of jewelry. A frown comes over him at having left it here in the first place. Aunt Noctua gave it to him before she left - believing he needed an heirloom for himself since he was bound to not receive any.
Aunt Noctua made him promise to keep it safe. At the time, he was so angry with her leaving him that he threw it in the garden. Cimsy was the one to place the ring on his desk one afternoon, polished and clean of dirt. He hid it in the desk after. Feeling over the ring, a smile starts to form on his lips. He tucks the ring into his pocket then he’s out of his room.
It’s Cimsy which awaits him in the main entryway. He makes out her figure hunched over, scrubbing at the floors. Cimsy looks up to him and stops her cleaning efforts.
“Oh, young Master,” her eyes drift over him and she gasps. “A-Are you leaving? So soon?”
Ominis sets his suitcase down and kneels down to be closer to the house elf.
He nods, “I’m afraid I am. I’ve… gotten what I came here for. And I don’t know when I’ll return. If… I’ll return,” he sighs. “I never gave you a proper goodbye last time, Cimsy. I would like to give you one now.”
He holds out his hands and Cimsy places her wrinkled ones in his. He holds her hands with a soft smile.
“You’ve always been kind to me, Cimsy. Thank you. For all you do. And I wish you the best,” he whispers.
Cimsy squeezes his hands, “Cimsy lives to serve the Masters of the Gaunt family. Cimsy is proud of the young Master. Cimsy… wishes you well, young Master.”
Ominis squeezes her hands once more before he stands. He grips his suitcase and wand.
“Goodbye, Cimsy,” he says as he heads towards the grand double door.
Just as he flicks his wand to open the door, frantic footsteps rush towards him.
“Ominis!” Mother practically cries. “Y-You’re leaving? You’re leaving me!?”
Ominis feels the breeze of the mid-morning air hitting his face. The sun is just out of his reach.
“I am,” he says without turning to face her.
“But, you can’t leave me, Ominis. You need me,” she sobs loudly, the sounds twisting his heart. “If it was because of earlier, I’m sorry. But, you know better than to make such a mess! And to sneak in without my permission-, you’ve never been so disobedient! What was I to do?”
“I know. And I apologize for doing such,” he states flatly. “But, my time here is done.”
“No!” Mother hisses as she snags his arm, her nails digging into his flesh through is clothes. “You don’t get to decide when you’re done. You have duties to fulfill. Obligations and responsibilities. You are my son!”
Ominis closes his eyes, sighing to himself with pinched brows. He turns his head towards his mother.
“I’m leaving. And you can’t stop me.”
Yanking himself free, his first step forward is met with her sharp gasp, then the next is a wailing sob, but once he’s in the sun he’s all but free. Going down the steps, Mother cries out.
“Ominis! Ominis!” Mother’s voice is all but a screeching wail, and it sends shivers down his spine at how angry and desperate she sounds. “You can’t leave me! You need me! I love you. I’m the only one who loves you! My little boy! Come back to me! Don’t do this to me, Ominis!”
Ominis can’t stop smiling. There was a time when he believed her words to be true - that no one would ever truly love him. But now, he knows it to be nothing more than empty words meant to chain him. And as he steps through the gate, the weight of those chains all but fall as he continues towards the ones who truly love him.
-------------------------------
BONUS
She’s putting up the dishes from breakfast when a letter lands on the table. A notable Slytherin crest seal gets her attention. Nearly shattering the plates as she drops them, she rips it open. She’s just reached the end when Sebastian calls out.
“It’s Ominis!”
She’s out the door, finding him walking towards the shop with a bright grin on his face.
“Ominis!” She grins as she rushes towards him.
“Good morning, my-,”
He’s nearly tackled to the ground by her as she throws herself into him. Her arms wrap around his neck and he laughs as he drops his suitcase to embrace her.
“I missed you,” she whispers in his ear, making him hold her tighter.
“And I you,” he whispers back.
She slowly releases him, her hands cupping his face, “Oh, Ominis. You look exhausted.”
Worry bubbles in his chest - stemming from her. He holds her hands, an action he’s been dying to do since he left, and he smiles.
“I’m alright. I promise.”
“Ah, there’s the heroic knight, back from his adventure,” Sebastian grins as he joins them. “Well, have you come back with anything?”
She releases him and steps back while Ominis reaches into his jacket pocket. Producing the journal, she gasps.
“It’s… glowing,” she whispers.
“It is?” Sebastian questions.
“It’s protected by Ancient Magic. It’s how I found it in the first place,” Ominis states as he hands the journal to her.
“Wait, you found it because of the Ancient Magic?” Sebastian wonders. “Does that mean you can ‘see’ it like she can?”
“I believe I may be able to sense Ancient Magic, yes.”
The journal clicks open and she looks up to Ominis with wide eyes, “Amazing. I… I’m happy you were able to find something.”
Ominis gives her a warm smile, but his tired eyes only make her frown. She grabs his hand, motioning for Sebastian to take the suitcase.
“Here, come inside. Are you hungry? I can make you something. Then you should rest,” she says while tugging him inside.
“I wouldn’t mind some toast and tea. Then a nap wouldn’t hurt.”
Ominis sits at the kitchen table, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it filters through the window. He hears her as she bustles about the quaint kitchen, bringing him toast, eggs, and fruit along with his tea. He laughs to himself, but he can’t say he doesn’t mind the attention. Once he’s eaten he heads to her room upstairs, barely able to change himself out of his clothes into something more comfortable before collapsing.
His eyes are heavy, and the soft knock at the door startles him.
“Come in,” he says.
She steps into the room, walking towards him as the door shuts softly behind her, “Is there anything I can get you?”
He chuckles, “No, my dear, I’m quite alright,” he turns towards her then holds out his hand, “But, I wouldn’t mind if you laid with me. At least, until I fall asleep.”
She doesn’t hesitate to take his hand and she crawls into bed to lay next to him. Her lips are on his in another second, and he hums in both surprise and approval. His fingers are quick to tangle in her hair and he smiles into her eager kisses. When they part, it’s a soft sigh. He traces over her cheek with a warm smile.
“I missed you,” he whispers.
“And I missed you. Terribly,” she whispers just as quietly back. Her fingers brush his hair from his temple and he closes his eyes at the gentle touch. “I love you.”
A thrill shoots up his spine and his brows pinch. He opens his eyes to direct them towards her.
“Can you… say that again?”
She lets out a gentle laugh, kissing his cheek, “I love you, Ominis.”
A whimper escapes his lips and he presses his forehead to hers, brushing their noses together.
“I could go on about all the things I love about you, Ominis,” she strokes his cheek with a smile, “Shall I tell you?”
What his words could not say, his pleading eyes did.
“I love your smile,” she says while kissing the corner of his lips, “I love your gentle touch,” she kisses his palm, “I love your laugh, and sweet voice,” she kisses his neck, making him gasp, “I love your heart - your kindness and compassion.”
She drifts back up to his face, which is now flushed in a beautiful pink hue.
“I love your intelligence. Your quick and clever mind,” she kisses his forehead then she lingers just above his lips. “But, most of all, I love how you see me. You love me, for me. You accept me as I am, and encourage me to become better. You see all my flaws, and you still choose to love me. With you, I feel seen.”
He kisses her, his passion coming fully forward. Little whimpers and gasps escape him at her matching his intensity. As their tongues tangle and their breaths grow heavy, he hopes this will be enough to convey how much she means to him.
They slowly part once more with soft smiles and heated faces. He tucks her hair behind her ear, finding the warmth of her closeness slowly lulling him to sleep.
She lets out a content sigh, “Get some rest, handsome.”
Feeling her warmth next to him, it’s easy for him to fall asleep.
------------------------------
They wake up from their nap still tangled in each other’s embrace. The afternoon sun begins to shine into the room, and Ominis tells her of how he found Isidora’s journal.
“As it turns out, my ancestor was indeed friends with Isidora. She thought it odd that someone would arrive at Hogwarts during their Fifth year. Remind you of someone?” Ominis grins.
She laughs, “It seems some things never change,” her brows pinch as she hums in thought. “I suppose even us… to a certain extent. Perhaps meeting each other may not have been an accident at all.”
Her fingers play with his hair in deep thought and she finally whispers,
“Do you believe us to be soul mates? That we were destined to be together?”
Ominis frowns for a moment then shakes his head.
“No. I don’t.”
Her eyes widen, but he continues before she can say anything.
“To be bound by fate, means that we were always destined to be together. That we didn’t get a choice in whether or not to love each other,” he states with a growing smile. “But, I choose to be with you. Me. Not fate, nor destiny. It’s because I choose to love you, and you me. And, I would choose you every time.”
Tears well in her eye for a moment before she giggles, “I’m glad to be chosen by you then. For I choose you too.”
He kisses her and smiles against her lips, “And I’m grateful to be considered yours.”
Ominis sighs, the last of his worries melting away in her warmth. He’s thankful to be here - with her.
His home.
--------------
AN: Well... this took forever. But I really wanted to capture the tensions and the 'walking on eggshells' feeling of Ominis trying to navigate around his mother. Idk, i tried lol. Also the bonus is just lil thoughts i had after the fact but I didn't want to expand on them any further than what I had so figured why not just add it to this one LOL
But, yeah I think that wraps up my 5th year stuff. I'll probs post some oneshots/6th year stuff as im writing the BIG 7th year project.
Also, I'm almost at 400 followers which is wild to think about. Was thinking about maybe doing something for it -> but idk what. any ideas would be appreciated <3
Thanks again for reading and feedback is always welcomed <3
#ominis gaunt#ominis x reader#hogwarts legacy#fanfic#fanfiction#hogwarts legacy fanfic#ominis gaunt x mc#ominis gaunt x reader#creative writing#ominis x mc#ominis x you#legilimency#ominis x oc#comfort#ominis gaunt x you#slight angst#magic bonds#hurt and comfort#light angst#fluff#kissing#cuddling & snuggling#cuddles#taking care of ominis#ominis headcanon#ominis gaunt fluff#ominis gaunt angst#hogwarts legacy ominis#the gaunt family
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
I love you, Star Wars. It’s ruining my life.
I resurrected my long-dormant Tumblr to write 2k words on my complicated feelings about the Bad Batch series finale, and I feel better now.
I love Star Wars. I love this show. Earlier in the season, I went shot-by-shot on how great this series is when it’s on its game.
Considered in a vacuum, that final episode is great. The sequence on Tantiss is tense and thrilling. The visuals, as always, are top tier. The epilogue hits the right emotional notes... and it all fell flat for me.
I think my harshest, but most concise, critique is this: The season went in circles on stuff that ended up being irrelevant and ran out of time to tee up the emotional payoff.
I’m aware I’m in the minority. If you loved this, I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong to love it. I’m glad people loved it; I wanted to love it. This show remains one of my favorite recent Star Wars things, and the fact that the ending didn’t land doesn’t change that.
I’m genuinely bummed that this didn’t work for me, but here’s why it didn’t.
The storytelling fails to get us where we need to be for that ending – and there are two main reasons for that:
Structural issues with the season-long plot arc that have downstream effects on characterization and themes.
An over-reliance on misdirection to create tension.
Big time spoilers ahead, obviously.
Structure
For the first two seasons, the show is episodic – you get these tight little two- or three-episode arcs but there’s never a season-long plot. For the final season, they set up a central story around the show’s mythology (Tantiss). All the action should lead to that end, even if we get some one-off episodes along the way. That’s something they hadn’t done before, and I was really looking forward to it. It’s ambitious to switch things up, and I like it when shows take risks.
Setting up the mytharc
The actual plot progression when we get there, though, is weird. No one loves a hunt for a MacGuffin more than I do – you often get some of your best character moments in those stories – but you have to eventually find the MacGuffin, or your audience starts to wonder where things are going.
It takes nine episodes to get to a significant plot reveal. That’s more than half a season of not giving the audience information – not teasing partial clues, just not giving. And the main thing the characters find is something the audience already knows (what’s an m-count), even if the characters don’t*. The big problem is that there are no breadcrumbs leading to the next part of the story, and I started to get concerned that it was because the central plot wasn’t going anywhere.
* I find that really hard to believe. In TPM, Qui-Gon tests Anakin’s m-count on his iPhone. There’s an app for that.
The story arc
Two-thirds of the way through the season, the arc laps itself and circles back to where we started.
It’s a decision that could make sense – the basic premise of the show is Omega daddy-daughter bonding with these guys while helping them do their missions.
You can’t entirely blow that up in the final season. You still need some episodes of exactly that, and that’s why she returns to them early in the action.
But once she gets taken to Tantiss (again) we basically just do the arc over — and we’ve already had mini versions of that exact arc in both seasons 1 and 2. We’ve been here before and it doesn’t really show us anything new – and, for it to work, it should.
This is all too bad because individual episodes are fantastic: 1 and 3, and 10 and 11 are all no notes amazing. Episodes 5-7 form a really effective short arc, and 9 has some of my favorite visual moments in the entire series in it.
But episodes often felt like they’d been written in isolation – excellent by themselves, but they don’t do the thing they need to do: introduce the next progression in the mytharc.
That isolation also seems to mess with some key characterization.
Character
Everyone feels a little inconsistent from episode to episode, but it’s especially noticeable with Crosshair because this is his season.
Episode 7 Crosshair and Episode 14 Crosshair feel like different guys, both of whom aren’t quite the same character as Episode 15 Crosshair.
In 14, Rampart says something to Crosshair like “people like us are only ever loyal to ourselves” and he responds, “I’ve changed.” But that’s never been his character’s central struggle. He’s incredibly loyal with deep values even when they’re badly misguided and THAT is his problem and has been for three seasons. He did war crimes out of a belief in something larger than himself. He’s a good candidate for the chip because he’s inherently loyal. They say that explicitly early on in the show.
And sure, maybe Rampart is projecting his own experience onto Crosshair – but then why does he accept that framing and respond like it’s true? And we get a foreshadowing moment like this tension is going to come to a head – but then these two are never in the same scene again and the question about Crosshair’s loyalty never comes back up.
Also in 14, there’s an exchange where he tells Wrecker that he ‘owes’ Omega for not leaving him behind on Tantiss and essentially that’s why he’s there.
But my dude has been openly established as loving Omega even more fiercely than the others, all the more for being late to it, since like a third of the way into the season. Putting us back in a place where he’s pretending that he doesn’t care as much about her as he does ignores like nine episodes of character growth.
This was the point where I started wondering if they’d written the final two episodes first, and then backfilled the rest of the season.
In 15, he’s willing to throw his own life away for everyone else, and that’s much more in line with the rest of his arc. But...
This would be a really affecting line, but it kind of comes out of nowhere. I think it’s a moment to create tension: if their team as an idea – and the thing the whole show is centered around – is dead, maybe they’re also individually going to die? Probably, because they end this scene with a visibly injured Wrecker saying ‘we all know the risks.’ But up to this point we’ve gotten nothing about how Crosshair felt about Tech – or even more broadly about their team being irrevocably changed by their experiences. He literally never talks about it, even in scenes where it would have made sense to talk about it.
(This would have been the perfect time to tee this up.)
He avoided talking about it so thoroughly that I thought we’d get a watershed emotional moment at some point, like late in the third act of the season. Add 45 seconds of meaningful dialogue to Episode 12 (it’s barely 20 minutes and the shortest of the season, so there was definitely time), then this all falls into place and that Episode 15 line lands perfectly.
(This is the scene, right here. It’s even nicely framed for it.)
And I’m just not sure how to feel about the fact that they resolved Crosshair’s PTSD arc by... removing the outward symptom of his trauma.
Misdirection
They spent a lot of time on misdirection in order to create tension, like a whole lot. So much so that there’s not enough time spent laying the groundwork for the ending we get.
These are the main teases:
Omega is probably Force-sensitive, and that will have big implications.
I love Ventress but there’s no reason for her to be here. The problems and questions she introduces don’t end up being relevant. ‘Can you grow to your full potential without giving up the people you love?’ But Omega doesn’t end up faced with that hard choice.
No one ends up facing hard choices – like, have we earned our rest now or do we keep fighting? That’s a really compelling question — but the characters never have that conversation on screen. The choice just sort of happens to them in the space of like 10 seconds, right at the end. They’re not even active participants in it.
No one is safe; everyone might die.
Not a bad choice at all for a final season. But we go from ‘you’ll never grow with these guys holding you back’ at the midpoint to ‘you have to live because she needs you’ in the finale with no stops in between. It feels like Episode 15 is the conclusion of a different season than the one we’d been watching — and I think I would have really liked that season.
CX-2 is someone significant.
Even if a reveal is a non-reveal, you should still, uh, reveal it.
The other guys, though, look badass and are cool af, and we should have gotten more than seven minutes from their first introduction to them dying en masse in the dark (in a sequence where it was hard to keep track of who was who).
If it doesn’t matter who CX-2 is, what were these guys being held back for?
There are a bunch of smaller moments as well that seem to be leading the story in a direction, never to be addressed again. You know that saying about how if you introduce a gun in the first act of a play, it needs to go off by the third?
That one’s a literal gun, which is funny — but there are several plot elements that just appear and then disappear.
Focus
In the final season of something, you really feel that ticking clock. Where and how the story spends its time feels more urgent, and I thought the choices here were odd.
We get a few side plots and character cameos that feel like filler, which is probably to be expected. But I think the best example of what I’m talking about is this:
The comedy villain from season one gets nearly 35 minutes of screen time down the stretch, while Wrecker, a main character whose fate we care deeply about, gets maybe half that.
And, sure, Rampart’s death was satisfying because that guy is the worst. But I honestly don’t know why they brought him back and chose to spend so much time on him.
Justice for Wrecker, in general. He gets nothing to do. Echo has more impact on the plot (and possibly more dialogue), and he’s only in a third of the episodes.
And to be clear, I would be fine spending time on things like past characters if the story had really hit the other beats along the way, but what we get feels unfocused.
Is the main theme of the season redemption? Loyalty? Self-determination? Letting go of who you thought you were supposed to be? Ultimately, it’s none of those things because it tries, at different times, in different episodes, to be all of them — sometimes in contradictory ways.
And with that…
I’m being really hard on something I love here, but... I wouldn’t give this much thought to something mid. I care because it’s really good, even if, ultimately, I feel like the execution could have been better.
(I went with The Tortured Poets Department for the musical joke in the title, because it’s topical — but Never Let Me Down Again was sitting right there.)
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Dressing Room
╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮
❥ pairing; ellie x giselle (original female character)
❥ summary; giselle always had a thing for ellie but refused to ever admit that to anyone. not even joel, if he were still around. giessle could always read people like a book, clear as day, however, those feelings giselle tried so hard to keep concealed were soon outed to ellie sooner rather than later.
❥ author note; i genuinely have no clue what im doing and am terrified of feed back but here we go 🙃
╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯
I witnessed from afar as Dina and Ellie argued. It was upsetting to see those two fight, they seemed like the perfect couple too. But… To be fair, Dina had been hiding that she was pregnant from us for a bit now. But that didn’t give Ellie a right to label her a burden, an obstacle.
I sighed, heading upstairs in the theatre, flashlight in hand, and in towards the back, finding a communication room. It was filled with plenty of marked up maps, notes and well more maps, honestly.
“Well, damn. Who the hell was in here before us? And how do we get the power back on?” I looked to the maps, trying to decipher if they were checkpoints for other groups or just places people wanted to search for supplies, seek some shelter even.
My thinking ceased as I could hear huffing and nearly silent footsteps coming towards the room. It was Ellie, I didn’t even need to think more or see her to comfirm it.
“You’re both in the wrong, you know. Just, my opinion.”
Ellie scoffed behind me, joining me at the table. I glanced over to her, searching her face for an expression. The intimidating, yet soft, girl beside me just shook her head, clenching her fists.
“I fucking know. I just wished she had said something earlier. I don’t need her risking her and… Her baby’s life.”
“Yes, true. But… It wasn’t necessary to call her a burden. We just need to keep her indoors and safe. And you also hid something from us.”
“Yeah, so fucking what, Giselle? Whoopty-doo, I breathe fucking spores. What about you? What are you hiding?”
“Nothing important and don’t get worked up with me. I didn’t piss you off.”
Ellie and I stared each other deep in the eyes. I couldn’t help but notice her gentle, caring eyes running from between both my eyes and to my lips. I chuckled at her, using my hand as a blindfold on her
“You’re so obvious, Ms. Williams.”
“Oh, shut the hell up. Ms. Anderson.”
A laugh left both our throats, almost harmonizing in a way. My palm left her face, admiring the smile she set up on those pretty lips of hers.
“What’s the ‘nothing important’ that you’re hiding?”
“Why must you uncover that secret? What if it hurts you? Or Dina? Or even if there isn’t an us, what if it hurts us?”
“But what if it creates an us?” Ellie seemed so vulnerable at this point. Like she was dying to put her hands all over me. In the back of my mind, I kept the fact that her and Dina were probably soon to be a thing. I couldn’t ruin something like that. Especially since the poor girl is pregnant and we don’t need her stressing.
“Ellie��� Ellie, it’s nothing. Besides it seems Dina likes you,” I pushed myself away, leaving the room with my flashlight and opening a door nearby, finding that it was a dressing room. Like a child in a marvelous castle built of strictly sweets, I gasped and ran to the dressing rack, running my hands across the material.
“El! Look! Oh, my God, this is so fun! Dresses from the roaring twenties. Ugh, they’re so cute.”
“I think they’re really damn hideous, but go off.”
“Excuse me? Disgusting? You, Ellie ‘Little Shit’ Williams, have terrible taste.”
“Oh, yeah? Change my mind then. Sell me on the dress, Giselle ‘Terrible Taste In Men’ Anderson.”
My eyebrow raised, my brain immediately thinking to strip down and slip into the clothing to prove it was cute. But also just to fuck with Ellie a tad. So I placed my light on one of the desks, shrugging at her.
“Fine. I will,” with that I took my backpack off, tossing it to Ellie. She caught it with a little huff, closing the door to the dressing room, leaning on it to watch me.
First, I crossed my arms at my hips, lifting my shirt over my head, stopping just before I exposed my bra to her. Ellie shrugged, her way of telling me to proceed with the show. I tossed the article of clothing to the side and now unbuckling my pants.
“Do you have a color request?”
“No. Nothing specific, do what you want. Might wanna take off your shoes before your pants by the way.”
My eyes shot down to my canvas shoes, giggling before bending down to untie and kick the shoes off. Ellie gave a sarcastic thumbs up now gesturing I remove my pants. I rolled my eyes at the girl doing as she wished.
In my head, this all seemed so fake. Like a dream or something but Ellie was much more intimidating in my head. Always so goddamn serious. Plus, I was just about to have a heart attack not too long ago from all those infected chasing us down and seeing Ellie snort up millions of spores. Half of me hoped this wasn’t a dream but the other half did, I didn’t wanna disrespect Dina like this.
“And here I thought the rumors were true.”
Ellie snapped me from my thoughts, raising a brow in question to the rumor about me. There were plenty and I may have heard them all but why would Ellie say something like that now?
“Oh? And which of my many rumors are you referring to?”
“That you always go commando.
“What the fuck? Who the hell started that? I would never go commando, that’s icky.”
“Well, seeing as you’ve pissed off plently of men by simply rejecting them, I don’t know.”
“And why would you believe them?”
“It would be the only rumor I believed in. The others are so painfully obvious that they were told just because their ego got hurt.”
“Hm… Fair enough. Now help me choose a color of the dresses.”
Ellie’s face lit up so birghtly yet also seemed sinister. Her own bag hit the floor, her steps telling me that she was excited to even be close to me while in my undergarments. We both pulled out dresses, disagreeing on a few and setting some aside as a maybe.
“Hey, pink or white?”
In either hand was an eggshell white flapper dress, the sequins dangling and sparkling. Of course, in my imagination they sparkled but not so much in the real world. It came with a shawl and gloves that would reach far past my elbows. It was also shorter than the pink, for sure. The pink was too far of a dark shade and some gloves that went just barely under my elbows. The shawl with it didn’t even match. Gross. I hummed, closing a bit of distance between us and taking a minute to review the dresses a little more.
“Oh, this is hard. This pink isn’t my favorite and the gloves are too long. The white one though… The dress is shorter and everything is looking pretty good.
“So… White?”
“Yes, Ellie. White.”
The not-so-frightening woman let the pink dress drop to the ground, tugging at my hips to throw the shawl and gloves at me and unzip the dress. Rolling my eyes, I let the items drop by our feet.
“Somebody is a little too excited to dress me up.”
“Just shut the fuck up and come here. All you do is talk, talk, talk.”
“I’ll have you know, people enjoy my conversations.”
“I bet they do.”
“Jesse does. And Maria.”
“You forgot three people.”
“Yeah? Who?”
“The full list, from bottom to top is Jesse, Tommy, Maria, me, Joel. Meaning you forgot, Tommy, me and Joel,” Ellie spoke with a playful tone, allowing me to bring up Joel in this moment. I blew a raspberry at the carefree woman in front of me.
“Joel secretly hated me, I know it.”
“Wrong. He would come and complain to me when you were upset with him. Kept saying that he missed walking into the living room and seeing you sleeping on the couch when he went to make his coffee.”
“Really? He always fussed about me sleeping on the couch.”
“He had a guest room, dummy. That’s why.”
“Well… No, I thought it would be too much.”
“Yeah, yeah. Always refusing to ‘intrude’.”
I pinched Ellie’s nose before she kneeled down to let me step into the dress. I bent over to hold onto her shoulders, letting her pull the dress up. My arms slipped through the spaghetti straps nicely, Ellie picked the shawl from the ground and throwing it over me, allowing it to rest on my shoulders. She even took the opportunity to slip the gloves on to me, giggling like a fool.
“And that’s everything. Take a look,” she whispered, spinning me to the mirror, zipping up the dress quickly.
I squealed softly, rushing to the mirrors and creating various poses. Blowing kisses, acting surprised, pouting, all the fun stuff. In the back, Ellie was spotted, grinning at my little performance.
“Should I show Dina? Or is she asleep?”
“She’s knocked out. She was really upset so… Yeah. I wished you could show her, she would love it. Joel would too.”
“Right? I could see him now doing a mixture of both mocking me but also taking plenty of pictures and telling everyone about it.”
Ellie and I both ended up laughing for a bit, saying things that we both know Joel would say. I even got her to dance around with me even if she did complain about the lack of music. She even took pictures of me to place in Joel’s home after all this was done with.
We settled down after a few minutes, me back in a t-shirt and my underwear, sitting on the floor with Ellie beside me.
“We should figure out how to get the power back on. But I don’t even wanna get up right now,” Ellie was now leaning against me so she could hide her face.
“Well… We kinda need the power so I can try and get some information off those maps and see if anyones soeaking on the channels. Unless you wanna spend a few weeks here then go ahead and leave the power alone.”
Ellie sat up turning to face me. We held eye contact again, her eyes so obviously searching my face for something. I couldn’t help but stare at her slightly parted lips, rolling my eyes.
“God, damm it, Ellie.”
“What? What did I do?”
“I hate you,” with that, I threw myself at Ellie, our lips locking and her hands cupping my face while mine were glued to her hips. Ellie was gentle, yet somehow still rough but I could care less.
“Is this the ‘nothing important’ you were hiding?”
“Obvi, dickhead.”
“Oh? I didn’t know Giselle Anderson was one to swear.”
“Shut up, you’re so annoying.”
Ellie ran her hands down to my waist with a chuckle, slowly pushing me down to lie on the floor and returning her mouth to mine. My fingers slithered through her hair, tugging every now and again undoing her mini bun so all her hair was down.
One of her legs ended up between mine, a hand running up my thigh as well, Ellie seemed to now lean more towards rough than gentle, her other hand resting around my neck. I smiled into the kiss, pushing her off and crawling on top of her with no other sexual intentions.
“What?”
“Go figure out how to turn on the power, you ass hat.”
“Come with me. Please,” Ellie gave me puppy eyes, lightly pouting and moving her hands finding my waist. I hummed, looking away, the little shit taking the opportunity to pull herself up a bit and put her lips on my neck.
“Fine, fine, fine. But… Only if you let me take the dress back.”
“Jesus, fucki-… Fine. Now let’s go before we end up doing something we don’t need to do right now.”
“Agreed. Because you smell and I’m tired of you.”
“I smell?”
“I’m just fucking with you. Let me put my pants on and let’s go.”
Ellie chuckled, rolling from under me to stand herself up and walk over to our bags, waiting for me.
Maybe I can keep this on the low, hide it from Dina and everyone else. It’s all up to Ellie, honestly.
#𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 ⋆˚✿˖°#tlou2#tlou x reader#tlou series#ellie tlou#tlou ellie#ellie williams#one shot#easy read#short fiction#fanfic#lgbtqia#original character#original female character#original shipping#lgbtq couple#female x female#im so nervous#how do i tag properly#vulgar language tw#joel miller (mentioned)#tommy miller (mentioned)#maria miller (mentioned)#dina tlou#tlou jesse#jesse (mentioned)
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bonding
Vanifinwe x Reader
Caranthir x Reader Relationship
2.9k words
Request: Hi , could I request for Vanifinwe bonding time with Caranthir's s/o? I lowkey have this idea of Vani being skeptical or unsure of the reader is perfect for Caranthir and then after spending time with them she warms up to them and knows they are the one for Caranthir because they are kind, patient and understanding? Caranthir can lool over the while thing? Thank you.
A/N: Honestly anon I don’t think you’re far off the mark at all about her being skeptical. I was happy to write this! I hope you enjoy! :)
* * *
Your hands ran along the ball of clay that Vanifinwë had left on the table that was before you, with her clay sitting across from you while she milled about the room. This was the first time you were spending time with Vanifinwë that was not in passing or at a family even that you were invited too.
When you two did spend any time together at those events and dinners, Vanifinwë, while she was never cold, was clearly skeptical of you. Not as warm and invested in you as she had been with the significant others amongst your partners brothers. Though she was still very kind and polite, and not in a honeyed venom kind of way. So that much was a relief to know that you were somewhat in her good graces.
“Have you ever sculpted before?” Her soft and lilt voice suddenly spoke up, pulling you from your thoughts as a basin of water was set next to you, and her rose perfume wafted into your face. You looked up at the Princess who held a neutral look on her face, hard to tell if she was pleased to be here or not. Or what it was she felt for you, but slowly you began to shake your head.
“No I can’t say that I have, this would be a first for me.” You answered her in earnest, and you watched this time as a faint smile found her lips and she nodded her head. Walking around the table to sit across from you as she set her basin of water down next to the clay, rolling up her sleeves to her stained tunic and you began to mirror her seeing if the professional artist was doing it… well there must be some basis for why.
“Perfect, hopefully you will find enjoyment in it.” She smiled to you, and you gave her a half-hearted smile in return, feeling a little nervous now. As you wanted to make a good and last impression on Vanifinwë as she seemed to be the only Fëanorian whose approval you didn’t know you had or not.
“What are we going to do exactly with it?” You asked her, referring to the lump of clay,
“Sculpt anything you like, it can be a figure or an object if you wish it. I would’ve done pottery wheels… But I think this would be much easier for you to do. My only I suppose rule for this is try and add lots of detail.” She explained to you, still with that more charming smile, one that almost nerve-wracking reminded you of Feanaro and even Curufinwe. She was certainly her father’s daughter, and you suspected there was an ulterior motive to why you two were spending time together. Though you hoped it was because she wanted to get to know you personally.
“Alright I think I can do that.” You answered her with some confidence, and without another word the two of you began to dive into your lumps of clay and began to sculpt away. A silence falling over the two of you, and you couldn’t tell if it was just your nerves getting the best of you, creating an imaginary tension or if there was a tension there between the two of you.
Quietly you began to mull over what you wanted to make as you manipulated the clay between your fingers and hands, deciding that something simple would be more ideal. Perhaps a holder of some kind where spare quills or charcoal pencils could be stored, for Carnistir on his desk. With lots of little detail, but you honestly hadn’t the slightest clue how you’d put it together.
But you weren’t going to let that stop you as you began to roll out some of your clay hoping to create a panel for the bottom. Then hoping to move on to create sides… Though you would need help for sure on putting it together. You were in your own world, focused on the clay panels you were creating that you forgot that Vanifinwë was even there in the room with you.
She didn’t seem to be paying you any mind either, at least that was what you could assume until she finally opened her mouth to speak.
“Y/N,” Her soft voice spoke up suddenly pulling you from your thoughts and you peered up to look at her, seeing how she was focused on the indiscernible object before her
“How is it you and my brother came to court one another? I’m afraid I don’t remember or wasn’t present when it was told.” Being the last and youngest Fëanorian did have it’s drawbacks in the fact that sometimes she was forgotten or assumed to be present for all things in family matters or private speakings. Carnistir had never told her, and she assumed that he would’ve done so when he was ready, but he never did. Meaning everyone else but her knew and everyone assumed she knew.
Piercing blue eyes peered up from the clay and looked over at you, and you could see the sparkle of curiosity in her eyes as she looked at you. Letting some of that impenetrable wall down in front of you, putting you a little more at ease to see her so relaxed with you.
“Well…” You began with a fond sigh, picking up one of the clay tools in front of you that was to be shared between the two of you.
“It came after one of the festivals that King Finwe hosted, we were out in the gardens when Carnistir pulled us somewhere secluded,” You began to smile as you worked, “He gently held my hand and asked me if I would court him. It was so sweet and endearing in the way he asked.” You tried not to gush and giving her the straightforward answer, you watched the way Vanifinwë seemed to smile some at your words.
“Was it romantic? Or was he just his straightforward self?” She asked with more curiosity in her tone, and it certainly soothed you to hear her so curious in what it was you were talking about. Let alone about you as well,
“It was more romantic, he… held my hands and brought them up to kiss. His voice was really soft and he stood really close and then he kissed me when I said yes. I was so nervous in that moment, but everything just felt so right and perfect.” You continued to gush more, and you watched as Vanifinwë seemed to wear some surprise at your description.
“You are surprised?” You asked with your own confusion, wondering why it was she would be when Carnistir was a perfect gentleman with you. Romantic too especially when you two were in private with one another. Vanifinwë released a soft breath of amusement, as she paused in her work for a moment, leaning back on the stool and shifting to get more comfortable on it.
“Yes, I am.” She answered you honestly, “Carnistir is usually so guarded and protective over how he feels, it is honestly hard for me to imagine him having such low walls with anyone else. Even with a romantic partner.” Now that was hard for you to imagine him being so guarded and protective in front of you, granted he wasn’t always the most forthcoming verbally, but he didn’t hide his emotions from you when you were present with him.
“It is strange for me to hear you say that as I feel like he is always open with me about how he feels.” You said, your fingers gently cutting out square panels to be able to put on the bottom piece of clay to form your little miscellaneous holder. You watched as a fond smile found Vanifinwë’s lips at your words, unbeknownst to you Vanifinwë felt some relief to know that Carnistir trusted you so immensely.
In truth she feared that you were just out to use Carnistir like many other elves had tried to do with before. Though he had thwarted them all, part of her could see what you meant to him and feared that you were no better than everyone else, she still had questions though before she’d make her final decision in how it was she felt about you.
Nonetheless she already felt reassured by the words you were telling her, it was good to know her most guarded yet sensitive brother felt so good to be with you. She only hoped that you too felt the same way about him. Let alone the biggest trial which was dealing with his anger. As it ran off most other elves who finally got a taste of his wrath even if it wasn’t directed at them.
“That is good that he trusts you so immensely to share his feelings with you, Y/N.” She said, offering you another smile as she began to continue working on her little sculpture before her.
“Do you feel the same way? Like you can trust him with your feelings?”
“If I am being honest, yes I do. I know if I tell him how I am feeling Carnistir will listen to me and support me in however I need it.” Your answer was reassuring to Vanifinwë, to know that it was reciprocal. She kept it to herself how many potential suitors couldn’t even answer that honestly, or how they’d immediately laugh out how they wouldn’t share such things with him. Or that it was foolish to attempt to do so.
“I am relieved to hear it, if I am being honest with you.” Vanifinwë said to you as she continued to sculpt away, with another comfortable silence falling over the two of you for a moment while you two worked. But it didn’t last long as Vanifinwë opened her mouth to speak again.
“What do you think of my brother?” She asked you, again there was a note of curiosity in her voice and for this you were excited to answer her, as you loved Carnistir and you loved being able to gush over him. You smiled widely as you looked to Vanifinwë and you watched as she seemed to soften tremendously at your expression.
“I think he is wonderful, he is kind to me and such a gentleman.” You began, “I appreciate his kindness, I enjoy hearing his thoughts about things and he’s quite creative with some of the things he says. I think he is clever and I love to find a topic that gets him really passionate when he speaks.” You grinned widely with a fond sigh falling off your lips.
“I love the way his face lights up when he gets to speaking about his favorite subjects. Though if I am being honest, I love the way his face reddens when he does something sweet and romantic.” Vanifinwë began to chuckle at your words, enthused to hear you speak so highly of Carnistir and that he had such a loving and adoring partner. It helped put her mind a lot at ease knowing that he had you.
Vanifinwë was starting to feel silly that she had been so skeptical as Carnistir had always been so good at vetting those that didn’t care much about him. She should’ve trusted her brother on the matter, then again it was good to have confirmation for herself and having this talk and time to spend with one another. Though she had one final and important question for you:
“His temper, what do you think of it?” You were silent as her question, almost afraid to give your honest answer, it was becoming clear to you that Vanifinwë wanted to know what it was you thought of her brother. And if you were good enough for him and this question she posed made you concerned with the fact that it was hard not to be scared by Carnistir’s anger. Especially at its worst, you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t scare you.
“It… intimidates me.” That was putting it lightly, “I have heard how bad it can get and I have seen it on occasion.” You answered her truthfully, you didn’t see a point in trying to hide it from her. There was the possibility that one day you could be siblings and you didn’t want to lie to her. It just wasn’t in your nature either.
Vanifinwë nodded her head as she paused again in her work, and honestly you did too as the two of you looked at one another. There was a look of sympathy on her face as she hummed,
“I understand entirely that his anger is intimidating.” She said to you in earnest and it brought relief that she too understood what that was like. If anything it surprised you too, because shouldn’t she be used to it? Vanifinwë did live with him and should be accustomed to all of his habits and outbursts.
“Forgive me for asking… But shouldn’t you be used to it?” You asked with hesitation, but you watched as she began to chuckle at your question. Shaking her head no, making her long black ponytail swish at the motion,
“Believe it or not no, I’ve never really… gotten used to his anger and wrath, and I don’t blame you for being intimidated by it. Though it says much that you would stay despite how intense it can be. But I hope he never aims it at you.” She said to you, and quickly you shook your head, holding your hands out as you did the motion, frantic to clear any of that up.
“No! Eru no! Carnistir never aims it at me, it mostly seems to be at your brothers or other people who have gotten under his skin.” You answered her, and again Vanifinwë began to laugh softly at your reaction, with another sigh of relief leaving her lips. Nodding her head at what you told her, good she was glad that he didn’t direct his anger at you.
“Good, I am glad for it. I am glad Carnistir cares so much about you Y/N and that you care about him.” Vanifinwë paused for a moment, and you didn’t speak, seeing as it appeared she might have something else to add. Your suspicions were confirmed a moment later,
“I must confess, and must ask for your forgiveness, but I was… skeptical of you Y/N.” Her honesty surprised you and you couldn’t help but wear it on your face as you stared back at her. Vanifinwë gave you a more sheepish look, but she kept going.
“It is just, Carnistir has had so many others view him for just his status or what he can do for them. Granted he has run them all off himself, I feared when he felt so strongly about you that he might be… blinded by his feelings for you I didn’t want him to get hurt. But I can see that is clearly not the case.” You were silent, and you felt an ache in your chest to know that Carnistir had been used before you.
That so many had overlooked just how wonderful of a ner he was, and how gentle and loving he could be. Part of you, of course, grateful that none of it worked out, but you knew it must have hurt for him to have gone through those trials.
“I can understand why you were skeptical hearing you say that… Poor Carnistir. That must have been difficult and painful for him to have gone through.” You watched Vanifinwë nod again with a more solemn and serious expression, her hands coming across the table to reach for yours that was sitting there.
“Yes it was, but he has you. I shouldn’t have doubted you or his judgment. I hope that you are not upset with me, though I would understand if you were.” Gently you took her hand in yours to hold, and you watched as Vanifinwë gave you a warm smile at the returned platonic affection. You shook your head,
“No, I am not upset, I understand. I would do the same for any of my siblings.” You said to her honestly and you felt her slender hand give yours a squeeze, and you smiled back at her.
“I am relieved to hear you say that, Y/N-” As she spoke both of your eyes went to the square container you were making, only watching as the top began to cave in at the top of it and fold in on itself. The two of you snorted at the sight, interrupting Vanifinwë.
“Now, let me help you with your project.” She laughed out, and you grinned nervously pulling your hand away to rub the back of your neck.
“That would.. Be nice. I am pretty bad at this.” You mused to her, as Vanifinwë picked up her stool and walked it around the table to sit next to you. You scooted your stool some out of the way as she took her place next to you.
“That is alright, I will help you.” Vanifinwë smiled at you, more warmly and friendlier,
“Now here’s how we can fix this.” She began starting to show you what to do, and you couldn’t help but be relieved all that weird tension was gone. That she understood you better, so you tuned back into what she was telling you. Happy to spend this time with Vanifinwë, bonding with one another.
* * *
Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @celebrimbor-telperinquar @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @anunexpectedsideblog @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @noldorinpainter
#Vanifinwe#Anamartinde#Failendis#Eluneth#Vanifinwe x Reader#the silm#the silmarillion#silm#silmarillion#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#imagine#imagines#one shot#one shots#headcanon#headcanons
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
White Christmas
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader
Word Count: 4.7k
Summary: The Holiday season catches Bucky by surprise, but after a less-than-ideal morning, a friendly invitation from his new neighbor is more tempting than he would have anticipated.
Prologue to the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 1
Warnings: language, festive holiday things (I tried to keep it very vague so all celebrations could be filled in), talk of wartime and Bucky’s past, I think that’s it…
AN: Happy Holidays!! I was watching White Christmas – one of my favorite Christmas movies, if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it – and the opening scene made me think of Bucky and how he might react. I thought of his neighbor showing this movie to him, and then did the math backward from the timeline of my series and realized she moves in right around Christmas time… so this is the fic that happened 😂 Set before chapter one, you don’t have to have read any of Neighbors to be able to follow along, but there are nods to later chapters if you have.
Thank you @deceiverofgodss for listening to my rambling, ily 💛
Bucky let out a sigh of relief when he got all the little app icons to jumble around the way google had said, finding the app he’d just been using and tapping the buttons in the corner. Yes, I want to delete the app.
It had been about a month since he’d been given this new life, and it was… still an adjustment. The Wakandans had been more than generous, Shuri and Ayo seeing to it directly that he had everything he needed. They organized the pardon trial, went through hoops to find him a decent lawyer, and helped him settle into the apartment the government had set up for him. Shuri, in fact, had scolded him when he tried to tell her he’d find the place on his own, saying something along the lines of him being too stubborn for his own good.
It was very reminiscent of when his family had dropped his sister Rebecca off at school in Indiana. Ayo had told him they’d already prepped the place with everything he would need to get started, Shuri had excitedly whispered about a new tactical suit she’d hidden in the back of the closet – “just in case… you can never be too prepared” – and then they were gone.
Bucky had been required to start weekly therapy sessions as part of his pardon, and begrudgingly – by court mandate – he went each Saturday morning to hear comments about finding out who he was again. It was exhausting.
It had started with the haircut. He hadn’t lasted two weeks before the shoulder-length mess drove him crazy. Though that wasn’t fair… it wasn’t the length that bothered him, but the reflection in the mirror. His codes were broken and his life was in his own hands, but the Winter Soldier seemed to be staring back at him everywhere he looked.
The short hair was an adjustment to say the least. But he had stepped out of the barbershop feeling lighter, like a new man. And the face that looked back at him was one he hadn’t seen in a long time.
That being said, it had also directly led to a plan that was most definitely one of his worst.
The last time he had truly been James Buchanan Barnes was back in the 1940s, notorious for being popular with women. So when that cocky confidence surged back up again, he had the not-so-brilliant idea to try it again. He thought that if he went back to being the ladies' man he once was, he’d find himself.
A horrible decision, that one.
Having no clue where to even start, he took to searching on google “How does dating work in the 21st century?” Which had him downloading a dating app. The one that he was getting rid of this very moment.
It had done nothing but confuse him further. He couldn’t take a good picture of himself to save his life and had worse luck creating a description for his profile; in hindsight, “James. 105. Still don’t know what to put here… I think I’m better in person” probably wasn’t his best move.
Most of the girls thought he was trying to be funny, and were disappointed when the following conversation proved otherwise. Some girls took his profile as an invitation to talk about a number of things he wished he didn’t understand. And a handful of them… well, he didn’t think he could blame his poor excuse of a profile for the pictures he’d been sent, but it happened nonetheless.
The dates he had been on were filled with nothing but meaningless small talk and modern nuances he didn’t understand, leaving him with less and less of the already dwindling monthly check he’d gotten as part of his pardon. It didn’t take long for him to come to terms with the fact that groceries cost far more than they did in the forties, and that his three thousand dollar army retirement wasn’t exactly the sum it used to be, especially when rent took up so much of it. Maybe he shouldn’t have turned Murdock down when he’d suggested they fight for more…
No, he didn’t need to be selfish, he would get by. It had saved him from having to deal with any more of the loud crowds of press or the looks people gave him in the courtroom, which was why Bucky had told Matt ‘no’ when he suggested they could get away with more than a retirement rate based on outdated economic values.
He’d certainly survived on less when he was in Romania. He’d be fine.
Bucky approached the top of the stairs that deposited him in front of his apartment, returning from the last of his lousy dates as the app in question disappeared from the screen. Good riddance.
As he went to put his key in the lock, he heard steps behind him coming down from the floor above, and he turned to glance over his shoulder as his door clicked open, pleasantly surprised when he found you descending from the floor above.
You had on a flattering sweater and looked very put together, as you always did, except it didn’t look like it offered you much warmth since you kept your crossed arms close to your body as you moved through the building. In another time, he’d leap to offer you his jacket or make some quippy remark about keeping you warm. He’d have to be blind not to admit you were a very pretty girl, one he would have gone after back in his prime…
But he wasn’t that man anymore. Not by a long shot. Who he was, he had no idea, but the James Barnes of his past was not who was standing before you in the hall.
You gave him a warm smile as you made eye contact, and he returned it with a friendly grin of his own.
“Hey! James, right?” You asked sweetly, and he nodded in confirmation as you fished your own keys out from the pocket of your jeans. “Funny how we seem to keep meeting like this… You at your door, me at mine,” you joked as you gestured between the two of you, and it genuinely made him laugh.
“Such strange places for either of us to be. We can’t keep seeing each other like this,” he tossed back, your airy giggle filling the landing. You were the first person all day that he hadn’t minded starting a conversation with. He didn’t know you all that well, he’d only seen you in the building a handful of times, but your interactions always left him with a smile on his face – in comparison to the rest of his daily encounters, that was a high compliment. “Making more banana bread rounds?” He asked only a little awkwardly, gesturing up the stairs you’d just descended from as he tried to keep the conversation going. .
“Hm? Oh! No, not today,” you answered, a little uncertain yourself. At least, that’s what he could guess from your posture, picking at your hands as you kept them in front of you.
“That’s good. I don’t need any competition for your leftovers,” he joked, earning an amused grin.
“Is that so?”
“Are you kidding? That was the best banana bread I’ve had in eighty years.” You laughed out loud, your face scrunched up as you threw your head back. At least it had come across as funny because he wouldn’t have known how to play it off otherwise. “I may or may not have polished it off in one sitting,” he continued when your laughter had come back down to a chuckle.
“Oh gosh, I’m glad to hear it! I’ll have to let you know when I make another batch,” you smiled, the warmth in your voice practically reaching out and taking hold of him, and he couldn’t say he minded.
“Please do.”
The conversation hit a short lull – though shockingly, not an awkward one – and he feared whether this would be the end of it. Something about you made it easy to open up a little bit more, and he liked branching out from talking to either his therapist or Mr. Nakajima; neither of those conversations were easy, but unfortunately required. You were different.
Before he could worry too long, your brows shot up on your forehead as you came to some sort of realization. “Oh, hey! What are you doing for the holidays?” you asked excitedly.
“I uh… I won’t lie, I hadn’t even realized Christmas was coming up so soon,” he admitted. “I don’t really have any plans.” He could confidently say that was the understatement of the century, having lived through most of it.
“Well, if you need somewhere to go, I was gonna do something Christmas Eve. Just, y’know, make some snacks and put on a few holiday movies,” you shrugged, and for a moment, Bucky genuinely didn’t know how to respond. “I’m new to the city so I haven’t found my people just yet, but nobody needs to be alone during the holidays.”
When Bucky met you, he had opened his door to find you smiling directly at him, handing him a plate of banana bread muffins, and introducing yourself as his neighbor across the hall. And now, only a few days later, you were inviting him into your apartment to celebrate the holidays. He hadn’t been graced with this amount of kindness in a very long time, and it was more refreshing than he was prepared for.
“Is anyone else coming?” he asked slowly, not quite sure what to do with himself and this wave of emotion that had hit him.
“Uh, well I’ve been knocking on other people’s doors kinda asking the same thing,” you started, gesturing to the stairs you’d come down from a few minutes ago. “A lot of people are traveling, or have other plans. Or, you know, are lying to the stranger who just invited them to her apartment a few floors down.” Your comedic shrug made him chuckle under his breath, and he liked how easily you put a smile back on his face.
“So it’d just be you and me?” Did that realization make him nervous? This whole interaction would be a hell of a lot easier to navigate if he could just understand what the hell his own feelings were doing.
“That’s what it looks like... if that makes it too weird, that’s okay! But if you’re an introvert like me and like that there won’t be people there, my offer still stands.” Now it was your turn to look at him a little nervously, completely unaware that he could tell, waiting to see if you would end up having to spend the holidays alone.
In that moment he realized that you were just two lonely people. One in need of a little extra kindness, and one with that much extra to give, conveniently placed right at each other's doorsteps.
“I’ll be there.”
When Bucky knocked on your door a few days later, you answered in a cozy-looking sweater, leggings, and tall fuzzy socks with festive patterns on them. He started to feel a bit nervous about the stark contrast of his leather jacket and gloves – more specifically, about what he would say if you asked about taking them off – but the warm smile that spread across your face managed to ease his worries. For now.
“Hey! Come on in!” You beckoned, holding the door open wider and turning back into the apartment, allowing him to follow in after you. “I’m glad you came over, I’ve been here all day and I just… well, human interaction could do me some good,” you laughed, and he chuckled with you.
“Don’t mention it. I’ve been there, it’s… I’m glad to fill the position.” You smiled sweetly as you flitted through the space to the kitchen, and he took a second to take in his surroundings while you were occupied.
Your apartment had a different layout than his, your front door dropping him directly into your open living room on his left, and the decently sized kitchen separated by a half wall of counters to his right. It was hard to judge precisely how large the space was as the only things in the room were a couch, a TV sitting on a dresser that definitely wasn’t in its final position, and a neat arrangement of cardboard boxes in the middle of the living room. And yet, despite the lack of living this space had gone through, it was far more warm and inviting than he was expecting. Even so early on, it felt like a home.
You had an assortment of foods and snacks jumbled together on the countertop closest to him, and he watched as you pulled a few more dips and toppings out of the fridge. He had half a mind to laugh at the comical amount of food you had prepared for just two people, but he was a super soldier whose monthly expenses were starting to make him count his pennies... He could make a sizable dent in your selection without even trying, and leave only feeling a little bit guilty.
“Sorry for the mess,” you started, stepping around a different stack of boxes piled in front of your cabinets. “I definitely thought that I’d have plenty of time to make my apartment look presentable by now, but I underestimated how much crap I have, so… I’ve made my peace with the cardboard coffee table for now.”
“I mean, you’ve been here how long, maybe two weeks?” He asked, and you nodded as you popped a loaded cracker into your mouth. “I’d expect you to have a cardboard coffee table still. It’s only a small change from the three pieces of furniture in my living room.”
“Three? How long have you lived here?”
“About a month,” he answered with a tight-lipped smile, and a small grin appeared at the corner of your lips. “To be fair, I didn’t really have anything when I moved in, so it’s… a work in progress.” You nodded in understanding as you pointed at him with intention.
“Well, that’s different! Having to furnish an apartment is expensive, it takes time. Organizing the hodge-podge of shit you’ve collected over the years is less forgiving,” you explained, and he laughed when you rolled your eyes at all the boxes still surrounding you.
Bucky was still trying to figure out how he wanted to settle into your space, but watching you be so candid and casual within minutes of his arrival was like a palette cleanser. Sure, maybe you didn’t know about the vibranium hiding under his left sleeve – nor that the history associated with it was his to claim – but watching you pick nonchalantly at the finger foods displayed between you was slowly eating away at his unease. You were relaxed and comfortable around him…
It was a nice change.
“Help yourself, don’t be shy! Eat as much as you like, I’m sick of reheated leftovers, so if you don’t eat them now you’ll be taking them home,” you ordered pointedly as you stepped back into the living room, leaving him chuckling quietly to himself. “I’ll go ahead and put on something festive… Do you like old movies, James?” you questioned as you reached for the tv remote.
“Define old movies…” he offered cautiously. Catching up on the pop culture of the last seventy years had been a daunting task he’d barely scratched the surface of.
“Like, really old. Classic Hollywood, from the forties and fifties.” Thank god…
“Yes. Yeah, I do. They- Yep, those are my favorite,” he fumbled, grateful that he’d at least know how to steer his way through most of this conversation. You looked ecstatic at his answer.
“Have you seen White Christmas?” You asked excitedly.
Dammit.
“I uh- no, I haven’t gotten to that one yet.”
“What?” you asked incredulously, sounding offended as you snapped your head around to look back at him. “Oh, we’re watching it right now, you’re gonna love it.”
Bucky raised both of his brows as if to ask if you were serious, a playful expression tugging at his features, winning him over when you gave him a sly grin before turning back to find the movie on your screen. What was he getting himself into…
“It’s got some big names, too. Rosemary Clooney, Bing Crosby, and … shoot, I always forget his name…” you trailed off, fidgeting your fingers in concentration. He spared a glance up at you as he waited for you to figure out what you were trying to say, only to see a familiar face appear on the screen as you selected the movie. Well, somewhat familiar.
“Is that Danny Kaye?” He piped up, remembering that painted smiling face from posters when he was younger.
When Becca came home from school in the summer of what had to be 1940, his family had driven up to Manhattan. As a treat, their parents had bought tickets to a show at the popular nightclub there – La Martinique – to see none other than Danny Kaye and his wife perform. It had been earlier in his career than whatever this movie was you were trying to show him, but if the smile on your face had anything to say for it, the vintage actor’s career must have done pretty well after the Barnes family had a chance to see him.
If he only had a nickel for each time he’d seen a celebrity in the 40s end up doing well for themselves. One for Danny Kaye, one for Howard Stark… That money could’ve at least bought him a soda to enjoy while being promised flying cars – and he was still waiting on those.
You snapped your fingers and pointed back at him with a wide expression of relief. “Yes!! Danny Kaye… Ugh, he’s so good in this.”
“No kidding. I’ve seen him in- uh… in other movies,” he started, recovering weakly from almost letting a detail slip that he very much would not have been able to explain. ‘I watched him perform in person over 70 years ago’ wasn’t exactly a shared experience. “My interest is piqued. Let’s see if it’s as good as you say,” he teased, happy when you hadn’t caught onto his blunder and shot him a smug look.
“It will be.”
…
Bucky didn’t know what to expect from your classic holiday movie, but opening on a scene from the front lines of the war hadn’t been anywhere close.
“Christmas Eve, 1944.”
That was a date he’d remembered living, having spent it similarly to what he saw on the screen. The Howling Commandos had banded together in their temporary camp, pulling together any bits and pieces they could to decorate one of the smaller trees growing just inside the perimeter. The men had shared traditions from back home, sang holiday carols, and kept Dum Dum Dougan from doing anything too outlandish. He definitely kept Steve on his toes, acting as an oversized mother hen to the whole group.
“God, some of them are just so young.”
Your voice took Bucky out of his thoughts, looking up to see your gaze locked on the screen with a commiserative expression. Your eyes followed a young soldier in one of the back rows before you turned back to look at him, becoming a little sheepish as you attempted a smile.
“I know that sounds ridiculous. Like, they’re not actually out at war, he’s just an extra in the background, but…”
“But it happened.”
He’d seen those boys come in. As Sergeant James Barnes of the U.S. Army in 1943, he’d seen men of all ages come into his responsibility as privates, the war encouraging an influx of men enlisting, himself included. Some of his men had wives and families they were fighting for. Some of them were around his age, having nothing better to do with their “able bodies” than surrender them to their country’s use.
Some of those boys were freshly eighteen, enlisted mere days after their birthdays, and dropped in his hands. He’d even seen some as young as seventeen, having managed to get away with lying their way into the army, and each one of them made him feel more and more anxious about Steve’s ability to succeed at doing the very same thing.
“I think people forget about that, sometimes,” you continued, your gaze back on the screen as you looked through the crowd of soldiers in between the crooner’s solo shots. “Just how young, or even how human these soldiers were.”
He felt a lump start to form in his throat at your sentiment.
“Obviously I know that these guys aren’t actually out on the front lines,” you continued, a small laugh escaping as you gestured toward the movie. “But I just… it makes me think about the soldiers who were actually out there and the lives they had. Their loved ones, wives and children, friends and girlfriends they might have left behind. What they went through when they were out there…”
You paused, and when he studied the tight-lipped smile you were giving him, he knew you were trying to stop yourself from getting emotional. It caused a strange sort of tug of war in his brain, instincts that had been long since dormant wanted to prevent your tears, keep you happy. And yet, he was baffled by how moved you were by stories of these soldiers…
Soldiers like him.
“Sorry, this- I know this is silly, but-”
“I don’t think it is,” he offered quickly, and his train of thought was momentarily derailed when your sparkling eyes caught his – apparently the power of a pretty woman’s crying eyes still had an effect on him seventy years later.
He may not have been that same suave ladies' man anymore, but he wasn’t about to deny the fact that you were a very pretty woman, one that the old James Barnes would have been pushing people aside to ask you for a dance. He was old, not blind.
“Really? Getting all sentimental about people who don’t really exist?” You snarked, trying to laugh it off.
“But some of those men – the actual people – don’t have anyone to think about them like this anymore. Its… I think they’d appreciate knowing someone remembered their efforts.” He needed to stop and collect his thoughts for a moment, dancing on that line between his truth and the white lies he’d been telling so as not to stand out as a 105-year-old war veteran.
If you kept looking at him like you could see into his soul he’d be spilling his guts in no time. He wasn’t ready to be seen like that, not by anyone, not by you. You were the only person he had actually wanted to talk to, he liked getting to know you, getting to relax for two fucking seconds without being holed away from the rest of the world…
He couldn’t risk losing that. Losing you.
“I- I hadn’t thought of it that way,” you contemplated, pursing your lips as you reevaluated your emotions. “What made you think of it like that?”
I’m one of them.
Yeah, that wasn’t an option.
“Uh, my dad, I think… he was in the Army before I was,” he started, which wasn’t technically a lie. But with the exaggeration, it gave him a moment to reflect on the truth, and remember those moments with his father so many years ago. “He was able to come home early after being wounded overseas. But even years later, he would look at the young men in their uniforms with this look in his eye… like he was taking the time to understand them, care for their situation like he wished he’d had someone to do for him.”
George Barnes had never been a man of many words, especially not about his feelings. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t shared his stories with his children and passed on the legacy he’d carried with him through his service years.
And now haunting the conversation Bucky was boring you with now. Way to be a sad sack, Barnes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the whole mood down,” he tried, giving you an apologetic grimace, but your expression only softened.
“Stop, you didn’t bring anything down. Besides, I started it,” you shrugged, and he couldn’t help but chuckle nervously. “So, you said you’re in the Army?”
Did he say that?
He did.
Shit.
“I- well, I was. I’m uh… I’m not now.” Oh this was going fucking swimmingly. “I was discharged,” he finished awkwardly. He was tempted to just walk out your front door. Empty stomach, empty hands, dignity in shambles… but his identity intact.
“Oh, okay. Do you mind me asking what happened?”
Every muscle in his body was telling him to run. Get up and bolt out the door. But what good would that do him? You were his Neighbor. He couldn’t go far, and even if he escaped this conversation now, he would still see you in the hall between your apartments.
Bucky was stuck. If he ran, your friendship would be strained. It was even a friendship yet, it wasn’t anything yet, and he would ruin it. But if he stayed, one more slip could mean you finding out who he was. And what then? Would the Winter Soldier come back to ruin this for him anyway?
“I was… medically discharged,” he started, his throat tight as he forced himself to say something. Maybe if he kept it vague, he stood a chance at making it out to see the light on the other side. “There was an accident. I uh… well, I don’t usually talk about it.”
“I’m so sorry, I- we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to pry,” you rushed to assure him, mere moments after he’d fumbled his way through an excuse. He felt like he’d just run a marathon, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he realized he’d somehow made it through. You were now the one sitting awkwardly, fiddling with your hands once again as you wracked your brain for a change of subject, some way to backpedal towards common ground.
The two of you had that in common.
“It’s okay, really. Besides, I started it,” he tried, throwing your words back at you with a small grin. A strange sense of ease washed over him when you laughed, relaxing back into your seat and sparing a glance back at the television screen.
The division had just finished singing a heartfelt song to their general – much more emotional than he wagered the average man of his time was capable of expressing, but that’s a Hollywood adaptation for you – when the sounds of explosions became much more prominent, men running for cover this way and that. It was, unfortunately, a familiar scene.
“You have to watch this!” You cried, quick at attention once you realized which part of the movie you were in. “It goes by quickly, but it’s important!”
“Alright alright, I’m watching,” Bucky smiled, welcoming the topic change as he settled on the couch next to you, watching this scene you deemed so important before he set out to tear into the snacks on the counter.
Much to his own surprise, it was really nice. If someone had told him a month ago that he would thoroughly enjoy himself as he watched a movie on his neighbors couch, he wouldn’t have believed you. But he also wouldn’t have been able to anticipate that the neighbor in question would sing along to all the songs or gush about the sway of the women’s skirts – he listened as you described your dream dress in great detail, and he hung onto every word. “Something just like this pink one Judy has on, but maybe in a darker color? Like a dark blue…”
Bucky wouldn’t have believed he’d be laughing over a plate of appetizers as you mocked the nasally blonde side character, or stopping himself from spitting his coke everywhere when you rattled on about just how “freakishly tiny” Judy’s waist was – your words, not his. He’d even found himself comfortable enough to open up on his own, avoiding any conversation coming close to his complicated past, but he liked being able to talk with you about things he was familiar with.
He’d helped you set up your record table when he brought it up on accident, relieved when you offered to give him a tour of your collection when it was a similar interest. And, having moved into aiding with handiwork around your apartment, he was quick to offer his super-solider enhancements to get the dresser moved at least to the right room. You tried to insist he didn’t have to, but when you watched how easily he accomplished it, the protest fell quietly out of the conversation.
He liked being useful. He liked making you laugh… Mostly, he liked feeling like himself again. Whoever he was, it felt good to be someone he didn’t mind seeing in the mirror.
Maybe he’d run into you in the hall more often.
Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛
Masterlist | Ch. 1
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#neighbors#neighbor!bucky#neighbors series#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#white christmas#christmas fic#holiday fics#holiday season#kam speaks
113 notes
·
View notes
Text
2/17 Practice deep dive analysis
Part 2
So as they are about to be called to start as the other team has finished, they stop with their little conversation they were having as they lapped the rink. It’s like when they go into dance hold, whenever they are in it they are in ‘business mode’. It’s like ‘ok no fooling around now’ (not that they do), but.. like they are in business mode and they of course are fully serious when they skate around holding hands proper (the handy holdy/pinky hold) but it’s more ‘professional’ in the stricter sense of skating. I hear it in my head (in reference to a different moment where they were switching from proper to dance hold- here they weren’t holding the going into dance hold) as him (or her) saying, ‘ok kiddo, show time. I have to be your partner now’. It’s feels odd to analys it and share my take on it since I have no clue if this is how they actually interpreted it, but it’s like the proper hand hold is more friendly, more coupley, more ‘I want to hold your as close as possible’ where as dance hold is more occupational. I just find interesting to watch them go in and out of that, like as soon as they take dance hold- specifically as they enter for their practice run through/performance, it’s like ok, serious time. And it’s beautiful because they immediately go into that zone and their roles in the partnership are immediately established and they are there to do a job. Ok what it is is: In regular hold they are equals as in best friends who see each other as equal humans who love each other equally but in dance hold they are equals in the sense of their shared responsibility and commitment to their dance partnership and the different roles they both have to execute to perfection. Also this here isn’t the only time- there have been many where they manage to change holds/take hands right in the blind spot of the camera so it’s like a magic trick they are suddenly holding 🥰
The ✨drama✨ as they present. You can tell mentally before they present they’re in it and focused, switched to the same frequency, but as they present they A R E their characters. And what I love about how they have always done this, is the subtle way they set the tone. I’m quite off put by the way many teams do it, whether it’s some ultra characterised entrance (which if it suits the program fair, but often it’s too corny) or a lot of teams would just be overly “sensual” and it didn’t feel real, then others where they had some flashy ‘thing’ as their names were announced then just slumped back over and made their way to position (I can give examples of all of these if you want me to). But with TS it’s all internal - which is the same way they’ve described how they feel and create movement together- it comes from their emotion or the psychology of the program whether it’s them or their characters’ psychology. So here they present and he’s immediately stalking her with a sinister, seductive stare, wringing his hands, feeling that sensuality in himself. Her projecting that tantalising femininity, doing so much yet so little- so much of it is coming from her eyes. It all comes from the inside out with them and because they are physically stunning athletes, so trained, so aware of how they look and relate to each other, that internal self talk/mantra, the story they have put themselves inside they can convey physically- BEFORE they even start dancing.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone talk about how impactful this opening is. I also don’t think I have ever seen them this far apart on the ice in a choreographic sense. Obviously in ice dance, there’s the general rule that you are never to be more than an arm length (so fingertips touching) from your partner (excluding static start/end poses) which to be fair most teams (that I’ve watched) do generally stick to but you do see frequently partners far apart either choreographically or bad tracking ie things like twizzles. Anyway. The fact that they start so far apart is so impactful. Obviously within seconds they get close together and touch for the first time in T H A T lift (seriously what a GOAT era way to start a program). We all rave about how powerful their connection is and they dance so close the intimacy is burning, but what’s so cool is how they can do that from this far away as well. They can quiet an arena to being able to hear a pin drop. Everyone stops what they are doing because it’s as if they are staring lasers at each other. What they can do with literally nothing, just standing 10 metres apart looking at each other.. is insane. The emotion, power, chemistry, etc they project is like nothing else and all this to say is physically this is a simple, potentially nothing opening but what they do with it even before they move or the music starts I don’t think anyone else could- make you feel conflicted between feeling like you are intruding on something very private yet simultaneously unable to look away- and they don’t want you to. 🔥
(I’m just going to use one gif to talk about this but it applies to the whole practice). Something about this run through was just so effortless. I know this is the start but by the end they are moving just as freely and energetic as the beginning. It just looks so easy. So assured. So exact and precise yet not devoid of charisma, humanity, being in the moment. And in writing this I think that’s what they meant by achieving *EXCELLENCE* instead of perfection. (BRB having a mind blown moment).
I love their movement quality; the silkyness, the way they merge out of appearing as one figure- one being and then splitting in two. In moments they do move differently and interpret movement differently- ie in the ‘roxxxANNE’ *head head* moment at the end of the twizzles- there is a slight difference (which is perfectly fine) but in moving together like this here- they were just so made to dance with each other- that statement does not take away from the COLOSSAL amount of work it took them to get to this point, but I feel like you can say they were both made for each other and worked hard to be the best the can possibly be at moving together- those two statements don’t contradict each other. Also the rhythm of the way they move. There is moving musically to the rhythm/melody/beat but then there is their internal rhythm that is connected to each other’s (and it actually is because the make damn sure it is every time before they skate) and that makes up a huge component of facilitating things like lifts- the rhythm of how lifts work and contributes to making it so seamless- neither of them is rushing or doing more or less work than they need to. They are moving together rather then either of them doing more work then the other or against what is natural for the movement to work. As I said it’s so precise and just looks so natural.
… (following on from that point and without wasting a gif bc it applies to the whole thing) the way they emote during this practice is something else. There’s practicing the emotion or faces bc it’s part of the program but then there’s being emotional bc you truly love it and love being those characters- that’s what you feel from them, that it’s so honest and the love of what they get to do just pours out of them whether it’s practice or performance. And I kind of feel like even though this is so incredibly close to perfect, them knowing they are so ready, they are kinda playing with the performance a bit. Esp from him- it feels like he’s just letting go and fully embodying his character to a point that isn’t as controlled as the actual competition performance was.. and how cool that they can do that. Most people you have to drag emotion out of but them… and (side note) there’s that bit of Scott saying (in the context of finding himself as a performer, and I’m also gonna add- not that he said it but I feel like it’s true based on other stuff- he just wanting to do his best for Tessa and be amazing for her) how he might push the acting or emotion further than what he thinks his necessary and that’s when T says ‘that’s it I love that’ 😭 (sorry just take a moment to visualise scootie getting all excited when T says she loves what he did- he always felt he wasn’t the dancer/performer she was so when she says she loves that he trusts her with his life he knows that’s what she wants and loves oh my heart❤️🩹). So yeah, them being the performers that actually have to be pulled back sometimes because they give so much- which I was always taught it’s so much better to have to pull back a bit that having it dragged out against your will.
(Bc I’m never gonna miss an opportunity to gif this)
I’ve probably tried to explain what this is before but just let me do it again.. I know to the laymen eye this looks like them being super sexy and seductive for the sake of it and them forgetting they are in public and don’t want people to know about their super hot and sexy secret relationship🙄.. But just use your brains for a sec and remember this isn’t some fake af reality show and in fact they are at the most important event in their athletic careers- their craft and yes, JOB they have dedicated their lives to. They are the best athletes in their sport, meticulously rehearsing the routine that will win them gold.. again. The way these practices work is their music will play in full and they will practice pre-determined sections of the routine with music then before and after do the missed sections without music. The said program they are practicing is Moulin Rouge!, a famously seductive, romantic, sex driven story in which they are portraying very complicated characters with both true and impulse- driven motivations. In their sport of ice dance, it is required of them to act and portray their characters in an understandable sense through movement and facial expressions as well as interpreting the music whether it be instrumental or with lyrics. As part of this story exploration both in the workshopping/choreographic process, and once completed, it is customary for dancers to play with movement that does not become set choreography in the piece, for exploration purposes and even as a matter of being ‘in’ the character and finishing moments off with reactions that are not choreographed, but emerge almost unprompted as a matter of being in the world you have created. THAT’s what this is. They knew they were not continuing with the choreography, so instead, because they are so ‘in it’ they continue with physically bringing to life the internal dialogue they both are reciting in their heads as they dance-dialogue that is far more complicated and nuanced that the 4 minutes of program choreography. It’s beautiful to think about them diving head first into bringing this story to life.. the most important decision of their lives was to find their perfect FD, and they did find it, and it makes me emotional to think about them every day in the early phases of creation, them just exploring everything they could do with it- the romantic parts, the violent parts, the sex and seduction.. creating something from nothing is the most beautiful thing we can do as humans and they had done that their whole lives and now got to create something that was truly setting their hearts on fire. I doubt they ever wanted to leave that place- being in the head space of that beautiful, heartbreaking story and so I don’t blame them at all for spontaneous moments of improvisation where they could just BE those characters. Then of course the moment after is the best bit- how they turn to each other and break and you know how much fun they are having. They LOVED what they got to do and it breaks my heart that people thought they couldn’t just love what they did and that was that- it couldn’t be that simple, and yet it was and the smiles on their faces say it all.
I alluded to this in my super long analysis post on this lift that when they practiced here, they almost did it too good.
What I mean by that is they kinda over popped it. They use to term ‘pop’ to describe their execution of lifts, there is a crucial moment when they both have to be in the exact right place at the right time, use their coordinated breaths, plié, trajectory etc to make the lift happen.
In saying this lift is ‘over popped’, it looks to me like Tessa got slightly more air than she usually would off the back flip launch, causing Scott to catch and rotate her slightly earlier and higher in the air, where usually, there is typically more of a forward and downwards height she is at in the dive where he would begin the anchor point and manipulation of getting her to sitting up. (All this is more easily observed in video format). In this instance any semblance of a typical ‘lifting’ motion is erased (not that this has much of a typical ‘lift’ motion to it anyway) because she has all but launched herself to the height of the (sitting up) lift position. The rest of the movement continues *excellently* and without having scrutinised it like I have it would maybe be hard to tell, but comparing it to the performance version (and this is not meant as an insult or a bad thing) this looks a bit over excited where as the performance (from a movement perspective) is controlled and calculated.
I really want to hear from them the actual decision process for both changing the lift initially for the team event, and then going back to this. I imagine when they got to Seoul for their private practice between events there was a conversation like ‘so we’re going back to the original lift?’ and someone else went ‘yep’ and then they both said ‘yeah F*ck it this is what it’s suppose to be and we want it to be so as long as we do it perfect..’.
This in general is such an incredibly beautiful moment. They’ve just been through this big, traumatic event and it’s like he’s checking her to make sure she’s ok. The way he looks at her the whole time through that circling movement, bends over so far to legitimately take her in- as I said earlier, not just doing it because it’s the choreography, but because he as both Scott as well as his character adores her and is actually taking a moment to let her rest and make sure she’s ok (😢🤧). There’s some really beautiful photos of this moment and it’s one of my favourites in the program given it comes after such a memorable, highlight moment, it’s easy to forget there are beautiful, more nuanced moments that are all critical to the story- not just fill in chore. I also really love how they tried to keep- even if it changed chronologically and choreographically a bit, the moment in the original ending- the moment from Manon when she does the falling angel arabesques then the twist into the fall back and he’s caring her dying body through its final moments, there were times where he would kiss her (body) in that moment and with this it’s a bit different given the position he’s not really able too, but they’ve kept the intention and emotion of that moment in this revised version.
Also just the way he handles her. I know I go on about it a lot and it may seem like I view it as one-sided between them, but it’s not in the respect of a hetro relationship, it’s in the respect of dance partners and duty of care the man has over his woman (and I can speak on this because I’ve had partners that treated me well and others that didn’t) and Scott treats her like a freaking angel. I’ve said before the way he holds her head and anytime he’s holding her in a position where she’s lying back, how important it is in those positions just safety wise to have your head supported properly if not by someone else then yourself, holding your posture/strength correctly as to not injure your neck- which Tessa would 100% be doing anyway because she is so strong and well trained (and now this is where a bit of body language stuff comes in I guess which I am not an expert on) but the way Scott holds her like that- holds that part of her oozes of such commitment and attentiveness to her safety- the way he holds her all the way out of that position to standing straight, like he actually putting her back to vertical, where he has all her weight anyway- she has to do almost no work to get out of it and that’s just an extra (significant) level of care he has over her physically. And yes it’s also in the way he stays so close to her and the way he looks at her with the eyebrows doing */\* thing 🥹
When I said the other day that the thing I go softest over is their utmost and constant care of each other, well also way up there is their love for dancing together. You just know they do- you don’t get a connection like their’s without loving it (T has now said a few times that for a long period of their career she didn’t *love* skating.. but I do believe she loved dancing and skating with him.. just not the sport of skating). So knowing it and being able to believe it is one thing but when it comes out- uncontrollably pours out of them like this it’s something else. The way after the spiral they are basically making each other laugh with how much they are enjoying themselves. Both unapologetically singing, how it seems to have left their stream of consciousness that this is a practice for the ..Olympics.. and not just dancing for fun. So many athletes competing at the olys- the majority know they are not competing for medals- they are there for a PB- time or score and to have fun, and I’m sure they try to soak in the experience as much as possible. For the potentially medaling athletes- the ones with a good chance or are expected to win- they are there to do a job and have a lot riding on their result- TS were the favourites in almost every competition they entered in their senior careers (except for the first couple years) and if not favourites they were never far from the top (never lower than 6th as seniors). They put their whole careers and legacy on the line with this comeback and this result mattered a lot to them, and to many others. So how intimidating must it have been for all the other teams on this practice- 2 low ranked teams, one mid-ranked and one potentially top 5/bronze contender team, to be on the ice with the greatest team in history- expected to take it all, all the pressure on them, to be having THIS MUCH FUN and enjoying themselves THIS MUCH. Being THIS good and having THIS MUCH FUN being THIS GOOD. And in writing this I’m just now remembering how they said (when they came back to competition) that when they were on their 2 year break they would go to comps and watch other teams be taking it so seriously and not seeming to be having fun, and when they came back they wanted that to be a priority. To enjoy it. And they even told each other before every (competitive/performance) skate (but I’m sure everyday in practice too) that they are so lucky to have each other and love what they share and just have so much fun spending their days together and want to enjoy every minute of it.. (Scott- or I guess Tessa, can I please borrow that bucket the rice was in to soak up my tears, please and thank you). 😭😭😭😭😭
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
#I’ll finish it there#part 3 to follow#I actually forgot how much I enjoyed writing essay posts#I havnt done it in a while and I want to get back to it#need to find some time management skills somewhere 🔎#anyway.. enjoy some weekend reading#2/17 practice#part 2#thank you all for being patient with me
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thomas barrow x Male!reader - love to hate you, hate to love you
Part 14:
You looked up at Chiron.
“Are all the demigods back?”
“The last just got back.”
“Leon round everyone up, we move in an hour.”
“Yes sir!”
You turned to the ghost next to you.
“Take your team, protect everyone in the house until we arrive.”
“Yes sire.”
You looked at Chiron.
“Why Downton Abbey?” You asked.
“Because of this.”
Hades stepped into the room and set a slip of paper on the table and you looked at it in confusion.
“It’s a sword?” You asked confused.
“It’s the sword that will break everything you have ever protected. In the wrong hands this sword will raise the titans, and create a whole new war.”
“And the Earl has it?”
“Passed down, they’ve had it for many years. He isn’t aware he even has it.”
You nodded your head at your father.
“Thank you.”
He nodded and he looked around.
“Take Cerberus.”
“You need him.”
“For what? I’ve no monsters to keep in the underworld, take him, he can keep the monsters at bay at least.”
“Have him meet us there.”
Hades nodded his head and you and Chiron went outside and watched as the demigods all lined up.
“My lord! There’s someone approaching the house!” Henry yelled.
“What, can’t you stop him?” Lord Grantham asked.
“No lord he’s… there’s things with him…”
Everyone rushed to the main door and looked out, in the evening light was a whole army of creatures all stalking closer.
“Get everyone into the main hall now!” Lady Cora yelled.
No one knew what to do and they were panicking about what to do, the tried the telephone but no ring was happening.
There was a loud knock on the door and it was pushed open to reveal a blond man grinning from ear to ear.
“You, Lord Grantham, have something I want, and I’m running out of time.”
You began the March to the castle, raising ghosts on the sides of the army of Demigods, and you marched them around the side of the building.
“Hold positions!”
They stopped and you looked around, flicking your hand to the home one of the ghosts entered and you peaked around, staring at the forest line where the monsters were waiting.
“What are they waiting for?” Theo whispered.
“I’m not sure.”
The ghost came back.
“The main hall sire.”
“Get them ready outside, surround the front of the house, I will place ghosts at the back by the servants entrance.”
“Right.”
You pointed to a few men and they followed behind you, standing at the door they opened it and flooded in and you made your way.
“I haven’t a clue what you’re looking for!” Lord Grantham yelled.
“You know where it is!” Lock hissed.
You raised your hand, ghostly chains shooting up from the found, tangling around Lock and dragging him to his knees.
“Show yourselves.”
The ghost manifested and locked growled a little, and some of the homes captives gasped and huddled closer to one another.
“That’s why I couldn’t get near them, of course you put guards on them.” Lock spat.
“I take the safety of this family very seriously.”
You walked around the front and stood in front of the family, and you pulled the coin out of your pocket, twirling it between your fingers as you looked at the blond man.
“Going to kill me?” He asked.
You moved your other hand behind you and a demigod dragged over a chair, and you sat on it, looking down at Lock.
“Should I?” You asked.
“I’d simply get out again.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Tartarus is closed Lock. Anything in there will be staying in there.”
He scoffed a little but.
“What have you told them?”
“I’ve showed them everything, I’ve showed them what I can do, and what those monsters out there will do if they don’t give me what I’m looking for.”
You clicked your fingers and a ghost came down with a sword in hands and you took it, slowly standing up.
“Do you mean this sword?”
“You knew?”
“Of course I knew. And it won’t be here when I release those chains.”
You handed it to the ghost.
“Take it back to my father, ensure it’s safety.”
The ghost took it and vanished and locked yelled loudly at you.
“Why are you doing this? We swore a vow to kill those very things you brought with you, protect people just like this.”
“Why would you protect them?! Protect the very same gods that watch their children die?!” He screamed.
“I don’t want to protect the gods, but I want to protect these people!” You hissed.
Standing up, you dragged the chair back and you looked at the family, and the servants.
You clenched your jaw a little bit.
“You brought them here?” Lord Grantham asked.
“I hadn’t a clue they were coming here my Lord. I’m sorry.”
You turned to look at Lock.
“Have you forgotten what they did to us?!”
“Of course I haven’t?! How could I when I see it on my face every single day!”
Lock grinned a little and pulled at his chains.
“They think you’re a monster, look at them, scared of you, the same man who used to protect them.”
You looked at them all and you could see the fear in their faces, and you turned away.
“Show them what kind of monster you are.”
“I am no monster Lock, and you never used to be one either. I understand you are angry at Zeus, I am as well for what he did to you, you’re in pain, and you have been hurting for so long.”
Lock scoffed, and stood up and pulled at the chains again.
“Someone who’s immortal could never understand the pain I went through!” He yelled.
You looked at him sadly.
A few tears ran down his face and he sniffled a little bit.
“You think I don’t understand your pain Locklin? You think I don’t know what you went through?” You asked quietly.
He stayed quiet and you took a deep breath and looked at the family and the servants.
“You wanted to know my past, well here it is, make of it what you will.”
You turned back to Lock.
“I, and only I cannot die Lock. Would you like to guess how many times that I have gone through things I should have died in? I have been beaten, stabbed, drowned, frozen, set alight.”
You looked down at the ground.
“You got out easy when your father decided to kill you, for he decided not to spare me so lightly, instead, he cursed me with a life that would never end! Even down in Tartarus by your side where they spared you in favour for me because I am the son of the god of the underworld, the same god who trapped them.”
You pointed your finger at him.
“Do not act as if I do not know your pain, but do not put these innocent people through that.”
You looked out the window.
“Do you really think those monsters will stay by your side?”
“They have the building surrounded.”
“They haven’t left the forest.”
“What?”
You looked at Lock.
“They’re still in the forest. Waiting for something, so what have you done?”
Lock clenched his jaw.
Flipping the coin in the air, you caught your sword and pointed it at him.
“What have you unleashed?”
“A.. a giant…”
“Are you insane?! That giant will crush you as well?! They do not care about you!”
“They do!”
“Then why haven’t they come to save you Lock?!”
He stayed quiet and you nodded your head.
“I did everything they wanted…”
“Gods and monsters alike do not care about demigods. You know this.”
“Why am I always the bad person?”
“Because you make bad choices.”
You walked over and stood in front of him, lowering your sword.
“You and I used to be brothers in arms Lock, we fought together side by side.”
He looked at you.
“Despite your flaws you are still my brother and you always will be, and there is still time to make this right.”
“Say I wanted to, how would we? There’s a whole army.”
“I too have an army, two.”
“They’ll send me back…”
“They will not. You will get the justice you deserve for the wrongs done to you, but you must prove yourself worthy of their forgiveness.”
Lock looked at you, and you shrugged your shoulders.
“Whether you accept this offer or not, I will bring down that army.”
“Why would you help me?”
“Because you once helped me, and I should like to return this favour to you, if you accept.”
Lock looked at you.
You offered him your hand and rose a brow.
“You can promise me I won’t get sent back?”
“You have my word, and my fathers.”
He nodded and reached his hands out, and you released his chains.
“Why would you trust me so easily?”
“I can see your aura, if you were lying I would know.”
You turned around and gave a small bow of your head.
“I apologise for what’s to come, and everything will be fixed.”
“What is to come?” Lady Cora asked.
“A full scale war on your doorstep my lady.”
“Oh heavens…” lady Mary whispered.
“How can we stop it?” Mr Carson asked you.
“You can’t, we can but you can’t.”
“Then how do we aid you, if you’ve come this far how do we help?” Lord Grantham asked.
“Allow my archers to the highest points of Downton, I can handle the rest.”
“All on your own?” Lady Edith asked.
You nodded and walked out of the room and everybody followed you.
They were terrified, they didn’t know what to do, but they had trusted you once and they felt the need to trust you again, you were only thing standing between them and the monsters about to destroy their home.
Stepping out of main entrance everyone stood behind you.
The demigods all stood up straight, weapons at the side of them and the ghosts knelt down.
“What is all of this?” Lord Grantham asked.
You glanced at the man and looked back, and a ghost walked up to you.
“Sire, what do we do?”
“Sire?” Thomas asked.
You turned around to look at them and you sighed heavily.
“Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am (Y/N) (L/N) the immortal demigod son of Hades, God of the underworld. General of the demigod army before you, king of ghosts.”
“This is what you’ve been doing? Planning for all of this?” Lord Grantham asked.
“Yes my lord, please I will answer any questions soon, but we must get everything ready.”
“Right, yes. Are you sure you can protect everyone.”
“I am sure I can protect you all, yes.”
Lord Grantham nodded and he began to order the servants around.
“My lord?”
“Yes?”
“Will you be my lieutenant for this? I should need s strong hand by my side to aid in these preparations.”
“I should be honoured.”
You nodded and turned around.
“Archers forward!”
They stepped forward and you gestured to the house and they followed the footmen and Mr Carson.
“Get the women somewhere safe.” You ordered Leon.
He nodded and rushed them away and you walked to the middle of the two armies waiting for orders.
“Where can I help?” Lord Grantham asked.
“Take half of the spirits and half the Demi gods, put them where you see fit my lord, I will take the other half.”
He nodded and the groups split, and you held your hand out, summoning more ghosts.
“Lock, stay here with Theo, tell him everything you know.”
“Right.”
You ran back inside and you were pulled into an empty room and the door was slammed shut.
“We need to talk now.” Thomas said quietly
#Downton abbey#downton abbey x reader#downton abbey x you#Downton abbey imagine#thomas barrow#thomas barrow x reader#thomas barrow x you#thomas Barrow imagine
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Arcs & Ep9
Disclaimer: If all of my predictions turn out wrong, pretend you never saw this.
I’ve discussed this a bit in the past, but KP has laid out smaller arcs in the grander scheme of the KP relationship plot over the last few episodes. The strongest comparisons can be made between Ep6 and Ep8 and, as a hypothesis, Ep7 and Ep9. It’s no coincidence that Ep6 and 8 have a similar tone. By the look of things, Ep9 will be similar to Ep7 as well. This lays out a pattern for KP’s mini-arc, which I provide a rough outline for in this post. If I was to make a not-so-bold prediction, I would guess that the next few episodes will present a series of growing conflicts and resolutions in KP’s relationship. Vegas’s seed of mistrust was the first one in Ep 7 (I say the first one because Ep7 is the first episode in which KP are in what appears to be a committed relationship) and the second one arises with Tawan’s reappearance in Ep9. I think we will see a resolution in the Tawan conflict rather quickly, but it will make way for even larger issues that will be laid out in Ep10. Regardless of specifics, we can safely assume that everything will escalate to Porsche’s leaving Kinn and, in doing so, separating himself from the mafia world.
I’d like to think that the second half of KinnPorsche’s relationship arc will be centered around the actual mafia aspect of the show. So far, we’ve seen the characters reacting to their mafia environment--especially Kinn, who we watch try and fail at suppressing his feelings precisely because of the world he was born into--but the relationship drama over the last few episodes has largely been about more personal matters. Ep7 saw Vegas weaseling his way between Kinn and Porsche to create mistrust. Ep9 will see Tawan doing something similar. The direct involvement of both Vegas and Tawan makes it all feel very personal rather than strictly external. As I think we’ve already seen, the external mafia drama will (presumably) align closely with Kinn and Porsche’s relationship drama. They’ve already planted the seeds, but we’ve yet to see it fully pan out.
Seeds & Theories
There are two main seeds that I see being planted here. Both likely involve Vegas and Tawan to a certain extent, but this extent reaches far beyond the conflict they’ve already stirred up.
Porsche’s Parentage:
We have several clues so far that indicate that Porsche’s parentage will make up a significant portion of the mafia plot. Everybody is interested in him for reasons other than his stellar personality and attractiveness, Korn most of all. Kim will likely merge with the main characters as he uncovers more substantial information about Porsche and his parent’s involvement in the mafia but please God, don’t let Kinn and Porsche be related. Everything will start to overlap and secrets will be revealed that have been merely hinted at up to this point.
How does this create tension between Kinn and Porsche? I suspect miscommunication and misunderstandings will abound, particularly when it comes to how much Kinn knows about Porsche’s parentage. A big information bomb will be dropped on Porsche, and he will convince himself that Kinn must’ve known about it. Kinn will object, say there’s no way he’d do that to him, Porsche will say he never really knew him at all, and he’ll go running. These are all predictions at this point, but I think we’ve been set up to go this route based on the mistrust Kinn and Porsche have already had in their relationship and the seeds planted about Porsche’s family.
Rivalry between families:
This is where Vegas becomes much more involved. His sly attempts at unseating Kinn will culminate in an all-out war, as I suspect we see in the battle-dancing scene from the trailer. It seems like they are facing off against the second family here, but there’s clearly some animosity between the two of them that they need to clear up before the thick of the battle (could be wrong about the order of scenes, but that’s what I’m predicting).
I think the show will flip the concept of mistrust on its head a bit. We’ve seen how hard it is for Kinn to trust others as a result of his relationship with Tawan, but I think it would be interesting to see Porsche’s mistrust take the forefront. We’ve already seen this a bit with the ending of Ep4 and the consequences in Ep5, but I want to see how it plays out when KP are in an established relationship. The first part of the season seemed more dedicated to highlighting Kinn’s struggles in his relationship with Porsche, but I think the second half will focus much more on how those same issues affect Porsche. Not to say that Porsche hasn’t faced challenges already in his relationship with Kinn, but I do think Porsche's struggles in this latter half will mirror Kinn’s struggles in the first half.
I would bet that we will be seeing arcs that mirror those seen earlier in the season; the show has already set up mirroring conflicts/resolutions in episodes 5 & 7 and 6 & 8, respectively. Soon, I think these conflicts will become much more external to the mafia conflict (which will inevitably bleed over into KP’s relationship). All the storylines will converge on each other as a final test of sorts for KP to face together as a united front. First, though, we must work through the Tawan issue in order to fully earn the “us against the world” mentality the show has been marketing/building to. In my opinion, the conflict ultimately becomes much richer when the characters experience trials after they’ve already worked through something major (*cough* Tawan). It shows that they are capable of overcoming obstacles, but at the same time, it leaves audiences on edge to see if this is the time it’s gone too far.
The show has made a point of indicating that the problems Kinn and Porsche are facing right now, while catastrophic for their relationship, are no where near as catastrophic as they could and likely will be.
This is basically word vomit, so please disregard if it makes no sense. It’s late and I needed to get something out.
#kinnporsche#kinnporsche the series#kinnporsche theories#kinnporsche meta#Does this classify as meta or just theories?#Idk anymore#But I do see several lingering plot threads that will surely make up a significant part of the conflict coming up#I probably was just stating the obvious throughout much of this but I couldn't let it eat away at my brain any longer
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Thousand Leaves
Part 3 - All Hallow's Eve
Characters: The character Henry is inspired by several of Bill Skarsgård's characters. The rest are my own original characters.
Setting: The story is set in the early 90s in a nameless town with several smaller villages surrounding it.
Warnings: 18+, religious themes, smut (sort of), alcohol, drunkeness.
Notes: Happy Halloween! 🎃
Irma stood in her parents Halloween decorated hallway dressed in a nun costume. It looked really modest by the first look but it had a high slit up to her hip and she could open it to show cleavage but she didn't do that in front of her parents. Her mother stood by the entrance door talking about the Halloween decor in the hallway. It was the only room that had it and it was for the kids that came to trick or treat. Glowing pumpkins hung from the ceiling together with spider webs and a ghost created with white textile that Irma made when she was little which hung by the stairway.
"I thought Laura lived in an apartment?" Her mother asked and pulled on the hem of her forest green jumper.
"She does, but it's on the ground floor so she has her own entrance door," Irma said and looked up at the stairs. She was excited to see Henry in his costume even if she knew what it was and how the costume looked like.
"Will there be a lot of people? I'm just worried about Henry."
"No, like 15, 20."
Irma heard a sound from the stairs and looked up. Henry walked slowly down in his black suit. It sat impeccably, like it had been sewn on him. He rubbed his palms together like he was excited for what would happen or that he had an evil plan. Irma bit her lip, watching the man that hade been so defensless become a mysterious sexual fantasy. As he descended she saw the white collar around his neck. A priest collar. While talking about the Halloween party Irma said he could be dressed as the thing that scared him most. Henry had said a priest without a doubt. Irma gave him a surprised look and asked why but at that he had just shrugged his shoulders. She had chosen to match him with a nun costume but she didn't look as sexy as Henry, far from it. His hair was well combed in a neat side part while his skin was as pale and polished like a porcelain doll. He did look scary but scary sexy and it matched the day.
Bea looked at Henry and helped him fix the collar.
"You're so handsome," she said and patted his cheek.
"Thank you, Bea," he answered with a small smile.
Irma took a hold of Henry's arm to make her mother release him from her grip.
"See you later!" She said and took Henry out of the house. On the pavement outside he looked at her and smiled with a hooded gaze.
"Your costume, is it really that modest?"
Irma laughed and moved the costume and put out a thigh high nylon covered leg from the slit.
Henry smiled bigger and moved closer so he could drag two fingers over the lace. Irma was always surprised that he became more and more comfortable with her, but invited it everytime. She thought it was his earlier self that started to be awakened.
"And this…" she said and opened the front so he could see most of her red bra.
"That's really… Sexy," he whispered and put his fingertip on her nose.
"But Henry… Why a priest?" She said low and looked up at him. So many clues pointed her to the church, where he had been found, the tip, Henry's fascination for the church and now he dressed up like a priest.
"It feels… like I have bad memories with them. Or one."
"You don't think you have been a priest then?"
He smiled a little.
"I don't think so, I don't like the clothes."
Irma laughed and took his hand while they walked the pumpkin lit streets to Laura's house.
Laura's entrance door was full of ghosts, pumpkins and spider webs, it was hard to even see the door. It was typical of Laura, always more is more. Irma opened the door without knocking and they were met by loud music, fog from a smoke machine and they could see a strobe light flashing in the living room. Irma laughed a little and dragged Henry into the hallway. It was fun that they all were still young in mind and could have these kinds of home parties. Henry looked around and took off his plaid jacket. At once he was that sexy dark man again. He looked like a character from a Hollywood horror movie. Irma said hello to some of her friends and smiled proudly when she saw them looking at Henry with liking interests.
"Do you want something to drink?" Irma asked Henry and took his arm so they could continue to walk into the apartment.
"Red wine, please," he said and looked at the people watching him. Irma said hello, hugged some of them. Henry said hello to the one that approached him otherwise he just watched the people. He didn't look uncomfortable, more interested and even smiled a little when he watched some girls dance sexily.
Irma poured Henry a glass of wine while she had a rum and coke. She watched him happily when she found him sitting in an armchair, smiling with a hooded gaze. It was obvious everyone was interested in him, attracted to him but he just sat on his throne, looking at their desperation. Irma was proud but she also felt a bit odd about the situation. Her friends were not easily impressed but Henry seemed to spellbound them all.
"Do you dance?" Irma asked close to his ear so he would hear.
"Not like they do," he said and nodded to the girls that were now more or less dancing sexy for him. Irma felt annoyance creep up on her and maybe another feeling but she shook it off.
"Show me." She smiled challengingly towards Henry and took his big hands in hers.
Henry stood up but looked at the guy next to him, with a cigarette between his fingers.
"Can I..?" He pointed at the cigarette. The guy looked at Henry with big eyes and swallowed hard.
"Of course." His hands shook when Henry took the cigarette from him. Henry took two deep drags. It was obvious he was a casual smoker and several of the girls looked at him when he bent back to let the smoke sip out from his pouty lips.
"That was good," he said with a raspy voice.
"Have we said hello?" Suddenly Laura pushed forward and pushed away Irma from Henry. She was dressed as a devil with glitter horns and a red corset. Henry looked at her approvingly up and down. Irma moved to stand next to them, watching them both with a hammering heart.
"I like your costume. Henry." He put out his hand and so did Laura.
"Laura." To both Irma and Laura's suprise Henry took her hand and kissed it.
"Or maybe, the devil? He teased her.
Irma didn't know how to react to his courtesy to Laura. Henry had grown a lot the last couple of weeks but where did this confidence come from?
The party continued and more and more people dared to approach Henry. Asking about his costume, his earlier life and his time locked in. Henry didn't say so much but suddenly he said one thing Irma reacted to even if she mostly was annoyed at people's ass kissing attitude toward Henry.
"Priests just want you to follow them and use the Lord's words for it. Then when they have you around their finger they will use you. Take away every blessing and leave you with a bad conscience even if you have given them fucking everything." He said with a low chin looking up with his eyes. The candles reflected in them and Laura's horns cast a shadow on his face. Irma just thought about the meaning behind his words while Laura thought about something else.
"God, you're so fucking sexy. Who the fuck are you Henry?" She dragged her hand over his thigh and he let her, just leaned back and welcomed it. Another girl that had been sitting on the floor moved closer to his leg and played with the shoelaces on his black leather shoes. Some of the men looked at the girls, just moving closer and closer to Henry and then at each other with annoyance and envy.
Irma stood up with anger hammering in her chest.
"Henry! Time to go home!” She pushed her way forward and took his hand. Henry smiled mischievously and let her drag him up from the armchair and out in the hallway.
"What the fuck was that??" Irma said angrily to Henry when they had walked a distance from Laura's house. She turned to Henry who now stood in the plaid jacket and looked much less threatening. Henry looked at the Halloween decorated houses and up at the moon.
"I don't know," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
Irma stood breathing heavily and took off the headdress and stuffed it in the pocket of her suede jacket.
"Henry, you were a completely different person in there."
He looked at her with big innocent eyes and once again shrugged his shoulders.
"I was just the person it felt like they wanted me to be."
Irma dragged her hands over her face and moved closer to him.
"Was that a problem?" He asked carefully and just as carefully moved her hands from her face.
She looked up at him and watched his lips while he licked them.
"I just thought… You and I…"
Henry smiled a little.
"If you want that."
She didn't really understand what that meant but she couldn't stop herself from kissing him. He kissed back hungrily and grasped her ass in an aggressive grip. Irma felt her heart beat full of desire but was also shocked by his passion. He continued to kiss her, his tongue seemed to seek more and more while his hands creeped under her dress. Irma felt how the dress had gone up completely but they stood on a quiet street so she didn't care that everyone could see her panties and thigh highs. Henry took a break from the kissing and played with her panties so they crept into her ass.
"You can't resist me," he whispered and looked at her with a deep stare.
"No…" said Irma and caressed his upper arms.
"Are you my little slut?"
"Yes…" she said with a moan and moved her hands down his chest and stomach.
"Eeey! Do that at home for fuck sake!" A man shouted from his porch.
Henry laughed which made Irma laugh too. He dragged her dress down and fixed his own clothes.
"I'm your slut…" Irma whispered with a smile.
"Yes you are," said Henry pleased and gave her a soft kiss.
×
If her mother hadn't sat up waiting for Henry, their night would have ended very differently. Irma was prepared to sleep with him. Do every filthy thing he wanted. She had thoughts of passionate sex, his mysterious eyes and his cock. Mostly his cock. Even when her mother showed her face in the hallway when they came in she thought about Henry's cock. She felt like she could abstain but she just looked at his crotch even when her mother spoke to them.
Bea looked at Henry who looked at her with big eyes and a little smile.
"I'm glad you didn't stay out all night. And that you haven't drank too much?" She helped Henry with his jacket and looked at her daughter who just stood with a low gaze. She rolled her eyes and thought that Irma had probably drunk too much, it wouldn't be the first time.
"Thank you," said Henry and took off the white collar and his suit jacket.
"How was it?" Bea said and took out some freshly washed sweatpants to Henry. He smiled a little and went to an arm chair and started to take off his clothes. He wasn't shy but didn't make a big thing out of it. Irma just watched him with big eyes, especially when his pants went down and she could see the big bulge in his boxers.
"Irma!" Hissed her mother. Irma looked at her annoyed. "Don't stare!" She furrowed her eyebrows at her mother and crossed her arms but she could see even her mother peaking while Henry stood in just his boxers. He had gained weight but it also looked like he had built some muscles and Irma knew both her and her mother liked the view. Henry put on the gray sweatpants but left his upper body bare.
"Are you going home?" Her mother asked. For a short moment Irma thought her mother wanted Henry for herself but then remembered her father was sleeping upstairs.
"Yeah…" She turned to Henry and stretched her arms out for a hug. He gave her an innocent hug but Irma let her hands glide over his bare back and sniffed his naked shoulder.
×
Irma cringed while thinking about what Henry had gotten her to say. She just thought back to how desperate she must have looked and how easy she might have seemed. It was obvious Henry had sides to him that had been suppressed but now came forward. He was charming, sexy but also a bit manipulative. Irma didn't know if she liked it or not. He was so cute when he was confused and innocent but damn, he was sexy with all that confidence. She had gotten phone calls from both Laura and a girl named Agnes, one of the girls that had been dancing for him, that they wanted to share contacts with Henry. Irma had dodged the question because she wasn't interested in sharing him. She wanted to be his only slut.
She was on her way to the library, not to borrow books and not to use the phone. The librarian had been right, that every answer was found there and it was the librarian who had the answer.
Irma had asked around at the office if someone had heard anything about Church of The Glorious Light but no one had but an assistant had offered to look through the archives. He had found an article about a church building that had been a victim of a storm and the owner was in the congregation of that church. She had looked through the article and had found a member. Lysette Levi. She looked at the picture of the woman with wild hair. It was obvious it was the librarian, known now as Luna Levi.
It was ironic that she found the answer so close and also in such an obvious place. She tried to tell herself there wasn't any definitive evidence that Luna would know something. The article was ten years old and she had moved from the village where the church was. Still Irma couldn't keep herself from believing there was a possibility of finally getting some answers about Henry.
"Oh, that's Henry," said Luna as she sat down in an armchair by the desk while looking at one of the photos Henry had taken with the photographer.
"He looks awful, he was such a pretty boy. What happened to him?"
Irma sat down on the armchair opposite Luna's.
"He is the boy found in that basement. Of the old church."
Luna looked shocked at Irma and shook her head.
"Who would do that?"
"I'm trying to find that out. But you were a member of the Church of The Glorious Light?"
Irma grabbed her notebook out from her bag.
"Yes, between 1978 to 1989. But it didn't become The Glorious Light until 1986. I left them both because I found New Age spiritualism but also because of how extreme they became. Everyone was a sinner."
Irma nodded interested and made notes in her book.
"And Henry..?"
"Henry, maybe he came in 1988? He was new in town, a church musician and so, so pretty. He became popular at once and gained more and more chances to become an important person even if he was so young. He had the responsibility to take care of the young and create activities for them."
"Did he influence the church?"
"Maybe after I moved..? I actually left that life behind completely. My husband and I moved and we don't have any children."
×
Luna remembered the day Henry Deaver came to their village very well. It wasn't something you could forget. It was a sunny All Hallow's Eve day and most of the citizens of the village were at church. She had walked there with her husband and liked to see all the people dressed up. She could see some were tired and probably felt they could do better things than to go to church, others looked determined and open minded. She was a mix of both. She had heard rumors about a new church musician and looked forward to having Psalms accompanied by a piano again. It had sounded so depressing without it. They had always had a talented pianist, it was their congregation's signature and pride but old Lenny had a heart attack and since then the piano stood empty.
Luna and her husband walked in the simple wooden church together. It was newly renovated, which Luna sorrowed. She had thought it would have been better to reconstruct it but that would have been more expensive then renovate it. Now it was simple and bright. The people sat quiet on the benches but several had started to whisper because the piano was still empty. Father Blom always walked around to say hello but this day he chose to stand by himself in a corner with a sour look. Luna had looked at her husband and made a confused face. He shrugged his shoulders and looked around at the people. When the clock struck all the people started to prepare to sing even if there wasn't a pianist. Just when the clock had stopped another loud sound could be heard. It was the entrance door, someone had opened it completely and let it slam loudly. Several people turned around to look at who came in too late to the church service. It always began at 11 o'clock but you should be there earlier. Luna didn't turn around, she could imagine it was embarrassing enough to be late. She heard heavy steps through the church. It was obvious that it was a man, probably with heavy shoes.
"I'm sorry I'm late but my bike started to act up a mile away from here." A man said with authority. Luna saw the people in front of her look at the man with big eyes so she couldn't no longer resist turning her head towards the voice she had heard. It was a young man walking between the benches with calm heavy steps. He was so tall Luna worried he would smack his head on the chandeliers. He was completely dressed in black, from the heavy boots to the leather jacket. Everyone looked at him with big eyes. A man like him had never existed in their village. The people there were conservative and dressed up to go to church. Motorcycles and tight black jeans didn't fit in there. Luna looked at the man's face. High cheekbones, a hooded gaze and plumped lips. Behind him she saw two teenage girls hide their smiles to each other.
"I'm Henry Deaver, the new pianist." He stopped at Father Blom's place, like he was the leader of the congregation. He dragged a hand through his hair that was messy slicked back, probably by a helmet.
"Excuse me?" Said Mr. Munro, one of the wealthiest in the village and one of few that worked outside of the village.
"Yeah, I've left my references to Father Blom and I got the job, any problems?" Henry tried to sound neutral but it was an edge of defense in his voice. He shrugged his jacket off and revealed a band t-shirt for The Cure. Luna smirked a little at the bench because she and the teenagers were probably the only ones that knew who The Cure was.
No one said anything so Henry just smiled, a handsome smile, dimpled and contagious. He walked up to Father Blom who looked at him up and down. He looked nervous and humiliated. They shook hands then Henry sat down by the black piano but looked at some of the women with the same handsome smile and doll eyes while playing the first Psalm.
×
#bill skarsgård#bill skarsgard#2022#fan fiction#writing#story#henry deaver#castle rock#halloween#roman godfrey
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
About the Bank
A/N: Female reader, hhhh had a bit of warden brainrot last couple of days ngl, the voice gets me, jesus christ
Day 13: Public
Word count: 2210
Warnings: NSFT, Smut, public, semi-public
AO3 Kinktober Masterlist
As your eyes flickered to the camera your lips moved, just a smidge. “Your counting.” Collinn stated, looking away from you.
“Mhmm.”
“Begs the question what are you counting.” His voice had his slight accent to it, not as strong had you had heard him play it in the past.
“Cameras, creating a floor plan of security view. Old habit.” Your eyes finally met his and he raised a brow. “And you have analysed at least a dozen escape routes from this building, we all have our habits.” You clicked your tongue at him causing him to chuckle.
“You're not wrong. Done a lot of recons have we?”
“You know I have Collinn, don’t play dumb with me.” He laughed next to you at your annoyance.
“Ah lighten up darling, we aren't even working right now.” Collinn parted your shoulder and your scowl continued as you analysed the area. “What’s gotten you so worked up hmm? Having trouble turning the mindset off?” His voice came ever lower at the end of his sentence and you could tell there was some level of concern there.
“Somethings off.” His eyes squinted at this, not dismissing the idea.
“Any idea what?”
“No clue, I just- hmm. Gut feeling and all that, this place feels so… wrong? Ah, don’t be concerned it’s probably just stress.”
“Now sweetheart, I wouldn’t brush your instincts off so quickly. That being said, you have been feeling stressed recently?” Collinn’s hand found yours and you let out a breath while his thumb ran over your knuckles.
“This place has so many blindspots, it's so unusual. Most of the cameras point to the middle of the room.” You changed the subject.
“Well, it is where the stage would be set up.”
“Yeah but you don’t need so many covering one area, a few different angles are nice yeah but hmm.” Your hand went to your phone and you started to tap away.
“Now what are you doing?” The pair of you had stopped in a hallway to the side of the transport hub.
“Bringing up the floor plans to this place.” You muttered and when you glanced up from your phone he had his arms folded and leaned against the wall.
“So long as we don’t miss our train.” He glanced down at his watch.
“Oh interesting” Your words caught his attention and you zoomed in on the design.
“What did you find?”
“There used to be a bank here way back, they used to use the railroad system for easy transporting. The centre of the hub below ground used to be where the vault was until about three years ago. There should be the entrance to the bank right there.” You looked up and pointed to the now blank wall. He watched as you continued to work on your phone, scouring the web for any information about why it was sealed off.
“Weird.”
“Hm?”
“There was no announcement, one day the transport hub sealed the area off and the next time it was for public view, the bank was gone. Well, I suppose that solves that question. The architecture is all wrong.” Pocketing your cell phone you smiled at the man. “We can go now.” Collinn smiled at your words bud didn’t say anything, content to follow your lead. The pair of you moved throughout the hub until you eventually found your train.
“I wonder why the bank was so suddenly sealed up.” You spoke as the pair of you settled into the cabin. It was a small little cabin, with two beds on each side of it. There was a table in the middle under the window which reflected the mirror on the cabin window. Collinn sat down on the bed, his legs stretched out, pillow behind his back in support. Your bag was locked away and you found your home on the free bed. Time seemed to pass without notice as you continue your search for any information about the bank. A dip in the bed had you shuffle to the side, the space was quickly taken up by your partner. “Find out anything?”
“All official sources say it just closed down due to age, but why would they seal it off.” You hummed as Collinn wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest. He looked over your shoulder at your phone. A kiss was placed on the top of your shoulder where your clothes exposed your flesh. “Your so tense.” His voice was quiet in your ear.
“I’m just curious.”
“That, I have noticed. You always were the one to ask a lot of questions.”
“I wouldn’t be this far in life if I didn’t.” He hummed in response to your statement and his hand covered yours. Finger brushing on the power button.
“We’re on holiday, a holiday of your destination request. Take a break and relax darling.” He slipped the phone out of your hand and placed it on the side table much to your whining complaint. “I swear you have no concept of relaxation do you? Find mystery in everything.” Collinn chuckled behind you. “Normally I would enjoy such traits in you but you need to relax, and unclench your jaw. Let your body soften up.” At first, you went to complain but when you felt him bury his face into your neck you couldn't help but let out a sigh. With a deep breath, you relaxed your shoulders against him and let your body detense. “That’s it. That’s a good girl.” His southern accent deep in your ear. “See isn’t that better?”
“I suppose you can be right, just on this occasion.” You hummed and shut your eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy his embrace.
“Now I think I’m right a little bit more often than once don’t you think?” His voice was light, a tease.
“Hmm, I disagree.” He grazed his teeth against your shoulder and you let out a whine.
“I’m right all the time.”
“Well, it’s not hard when you surround yourself with politicians.” He laughed and you could feel his chest shake against your back.
“That sounds like you agree with me, honey.”
“You're lucky that I love you.” You mumbled and he held you a little tighter.
“So lucky, I reckon I’m the darn luckiest man out there.”
“Your not so bad yourself McKinley.” He froze against you.
“No so bad? Not bad? Have you seen this face?” He scoffed and caused you to laugh.
“I don’t think I have, perhaps you should show me.” His grip loosened and you rolled over to look at the man but right as you made eye contact with his light brown eyes, the train jolted causing him to fall against you. He braced himself against the side table and pushed himself back against the wall, your hands sandwiched between the pair of you. “You alright there?”
“Going to have to take a bit more than that to keep me down.” There was a split second before he moved, with a grab of your shoulders he shifted, he pulled you into the middle of the bed and mount himself on your, his body pinning you down.
"What about now honey?" His lips curled upwards in a smirk. Without a word, your hands found the back of his neck and pulled him down against you, his lips pressing against your own. The perfectly trimmed moustache grazed above your upper lip and you couldn't help the mouth that was muffled into his mouth. Once perfectly styled hair was now messy as your hands ran through them, tugging at his locks. Any gap between the pair of you was closed and with one hand still supporting him, he ran a hand on the side of your blouse.
A small pant left your lips as he parted from yours, a messy look above you as he started to pop your buttons. Heat filled your cheeks as your eyes widened a little. "Collinn, this train isn't exactly private." He chuckled and leaned back off upward, examining his work.
"I suppose your right, mayhaps I'll have to do something bout that." He turned just for a moment to pull down the blind on the cabin door before he undid his shirt and threw it onto the empty bed. With an expert hand, he undid the clasp in the middle of your bra, your breasts falling free causing him to hum as he soaked up your body with his eyes. "Now a'nt that just the prettiest view in the whole world." As he knelt, he leaned forward and pawed at your breasts, tugging at the nipples as your mouth quivered open in need. His cock strained in his pants while he rocked slightly against you, his focus on your tits while he continued to grab and feel them up.
"Collinn." His eyes snapped to yours at your voice and he descent down on your, lips on your breast sucking on it while he massaged the other. With a hand now buried in his head, encouraging him, you covered your mouth to prevent the moans that threatened to escape from your mouth. Even if no one could see you, the cabin walls were still extremely thin.
His tongue licked the nipple as he sloppily kissed it. Your hips buckled up and he looked up at you while he continued to trace your nipple with his tongue. A wet spot was left when he parted from you, he leaned back to get access to your pants, pulling them down and discarding them like he had done so many times before. "I think I lied, this has got to be the most beautiful view in the whole wide world." His words had you roll your eyes but you swallowed when he sprung his cock free from his pants and gave it a few lazy pumps.
"Ready darl?" His southern accent was thick and heavy as he weighed his dick on your pussy entrance. A silent nod was the response he needed and you bit down on a knuckle as he slid in with ease. Collinn's eyes fluttered shut as he filled you to the brim, his hand bracing himself on your hip. His lips formed an 'o' shape then retreated then suddenly thrust in. When the bed didn't make a sound and the train continued to run as usual his face lit up. Your hand flew to his wrist and gripped on as he started fucking you into the bed with ease.
His eyes roamed your body and your breast moved around with his constant trust. Each time filling you over and over, spreading pleasure throughout your body as he slipped inside with ease. Little sound but your fast breaths could be heard and yet your pulse raced as he fucked you. Collinn grabbed onto your legs and lift them straight into the air where he balanced them on each side of your head. His hand slapped down over your hand and mouth when he thrust all the way in, desperate not to get caught. Hesitantly, he removed his hand and continued his fucking. His left hand held onto the side of your leg while the other one found your clit and started to rub circles on it. His voice was a husky whisper as he spoke. "Me and you, darling, we going to cum together. You heard me? Gonna make you feel so good." You nodded and your fingers tug into his wrist.
His thrusts started to get sloppy and he rubbed your clit faster until low and behold you came on him, clenching down on his cock while he fucked you through it, sending him into his own oblivion. His eyes squeezed shit and you could feel his hot cum shoot inside of you. With his mouth ajar he slowly let your legs down and pulled his cock from inside of you. His hair was a complete mess as his cock leaked a little and he picked up your panties off the floor. They were the first thing to come back on, stopping the cum from leaking onto your legs when you sat up. A curse left his perfect lips and he tucked himself back in. As you were redressing you received a small ping from your phone.
"I knew that place was weird." Collinn gave you a confused look but his brows raised when he realised you were talking about the bank again. He did up his own shirt and you started to explain. "Three months before the bank was sealed up they had a huge display to show off their security. Long story short a heist was pulled and they lost an estimated fourth million dollars. Can you guess where they had stored all the money?"
"Somewhere secure?"
"In a 'secured' glass vault in the middle of the room."
"So that's why all the cameras were pointing there?"
"Funny enough they took all the money by blowing a hole below the vault in the maintenance area. The whole event was buried as hard as they could."
"How did you find out?" He sat down on the bed opposite you, the smell of sex still lingering in the air.
"You're not the only one with contacts."
#rainbow six siege#r6s#warden x reader#collinn mckinley#r6s x reader#kinktober#kinktober2022#the gif is my own
22 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
mossymenagerieart
my sketchbook :3
making-mcyt-drown
Make 'em drown
hafojecetulo
Untitled
pervert-senpai
all the lewd
fireflyanthem
Firefly Anthem