#saw cool plants at the conservatory | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

busterkeatonfanfic · 3 years

Photo

Chapter 29 Part II

“You want me to what?” Nelly said, laughing. “I’m just about to wash my hair. I can’t.”

“Wash your hair?” said Buster, as though he’d never heard such a preposterous thing.

“Yes, wash my hair. I told you before, I do it every Saturday.”

It wasn’t just the disruption in her toilette that made her hesitate. If staying at Buster’s bungalow was risky, stepping across the threshold of the Villa door when he was supposedly alone was downright dangerous. She didn’t trust that an important item hadn’t been left behind and that Natalie wouldn’t pop back in at any moment to retrieve it. She could also picture a sudden return due to illness, perhaps indigestion or the heat of the May sun.

“Poppycock,” said Buster, when she aired these fears.

“How so?”

“They left for the train station at six this morning. Won’t be back for a whole week.”

“Yes, but …”

Buster told her all the ways in which her misgivings were foolish. “You can spend the night,” he added, in a teasing, tempting tone.

“I can’t,” she said. She ignored the instant flash of heat between her legs at his words.

“Don’t you wanna see where I sleep?”

The heat prickled. She did. “Do you think I’m that easy?” she said, not ready to quite surrender.

Buster laughed. “I do. Anyway, you can wash your hair here. I have a bathtub, you know. And a shower.”

Nelly gave it some consideration. “You promise everyone is gone?” she said at last. She wanted to add Your children, your wife, and your servants? but trusted he knew what she meant.

“Not a soul except you and me, sweetheart.”

“Okay, I give in,” she said. “Don’t think I think it’s a good idea, though, because I don’t.”

Buster showed up forty-five minutes later, parking a few houses down on Genesee Avenue. He had tipped her off that he was coming in a black Gardner car. It was rather ordinary-looking, his butler’s personal vehicle he’d said, and she understood why he’d chosen it. In the bright morning light, one of his luxury cars would have been more conspicuous than it was in the late evenings when he usually came around. He sat in the driver’s seat almost completely concealed behind a newspaper as she approached, carrying her handbag and a small satchel with some clothing.

“Good morning,” she said, after opening the passenger door and settling herself inside. She couldn’t help herself grinning ear from ear at the sight of him. It was only the third time she’d seen him since he’d returned from New York.

“Morning,” he said, answering her smile. He folded the paper and tossed it in the backseat. “You ready to be queen of a castle for a day?”

“I will be a guest of the castle,” she said, raising an eyebrow. Joke or not, the idea of her somehow taking Natalie Talmadge’s place at the Villa made her uneasy. Thoughts of Mistress Nell Gwyn, which she’d long since finished reading, flashed through her mind.

“Alright, guest then.” He turned the key in the ignition and then swung the car onto the road.

After he had shifted the car up to a comfortable traveling speed, he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. She knew him well enough already to know that he wasn't the type to say things like ‘I missed you’ out loud, it just wasn’t him. The kiss said it all the same.

Truth be told, as much as Nelly was glad to see him, she was nervous to be even a guest at the Villa and not simply because Natalie could return at any moment. She could forget that Buster occupied a different world when they were at her apartment or the modest bungalow outside the M-G-M gates; she could not forget it amidst the splendor and sumptuousness of the Villa. Moreover, the Villa was Natalie’s territory, built with her in mind as Buster had once told her. It didn’t feel right sneaking around her house while she was gone.

When Buster shifted down a gear again, he kept her hand in his so that her hand was also on the stick. He drove that way for several minutes, whistling, caressing her hand beneath his. Nelly was occupied enough without conversation, half fretting about setting foot inside the Villa, half wondering at the mansions of Beverly Hills, sprawling cream chateaus in the French and Mediterranean styles, most with red roofs. They all seemed to be variations of the Villa, or vice versa.

Her stomach grew jittery as the meticulous, manicured hills of the Villa came into view. Buster went up the drive, still whistling cheerfully, oblivious to her discomfort. He pulled the car through the circle drive with the fountain, shifted down, and turned it off.

“M’lady,” he said gravely when he opened her door. She handed him her satchel and he took her hand with his free one and helped her down. The fountain burbled pleasantly as she looked up at Buster’s palace. She should have been bright with anticipation, but all that she felt was a gnawing dread.

“Sure they’re gone?” she said.

“Sure as anything,” Buster said, burying his face in the side of her neck and kissing it abundantly. For once, it failed to distract her.

“Alright.”

He took her hand again and pulled her up the steps and to the mahogany door with its interlocking diamond-patterned metalwork. Electric light burned in the large black iron sconces by the door even though it was day. Still holding her hand, Buster turned the door handle and pushed inside. Nelly was now back in the dimly lit vestibule with the red-brick floor. The house was cool and had a distinctive smell, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, which announced that a particular family lived there. It was larger and more sober than she remembered without its gay partygoers. She followed Buster into the foyer. With the great stone staircase and wrap-around stone balcony encompassing the upstairs, the house really did feel like a castle.

“Loosen up,” Buster said, setting down her satchel and giving her shoulder a squeeze.

She attempted a smile. “I’m sorry.”

“I wanna show you around,” said Buster. Nelly bent to get her satchel and he tugged her away. “Leave it. We’ll get it later. You can hang up your bag, too.”

Reluctantly, she looped the strap of her bag around the hook of an opulent hall tree. It too appeared to be made of mahogany. Their feet echoed on the marble checkerboard floor.

“This is the breakfast room,” Buster was saying as they went up some steps and into a smallish room with a simple white wicker table and matching chairs. Heavy curtains were drawn over the windows. He paused to let her gaze around her for several moments before leading her down another set of steps and into a room with a tiled floor, a trickling marble fountain topped with a cherub, and numerous palms and ferns. “And this here’s the conservatory on account of all the plants.” Nelly could only stare, marveling that there was an entire room just for plants. “The kids like playing behind ‘em, the plants, but I don’t much see the purpose of a conservatory,” Buster said, almost to himself. “That’s what it is though, and this next room’s the dining room.”

They ascended another small set of steps. Only one leaf was in the table and only four chairs were gathered around it though additional chairs sat against the walls. It was a table, in other words, for a family of four. It more than anything else she’d seen so far reminded Nelly of Buster’s other life, his real life, the part that she was shut off from. Clearly excited to be showing her around, he still hadn’t noticed her uneasiness, so she smiled and praised the pretty painted ceiling beams and the large, expensive oriental rug that the dining set was placed on.

“Servants are on this side, too, and so’s the kitchen. I’ll show you the kitchen later if you want.”

Next he took her back to the foyer and they went left into the living room. Nelly remembered from the party and said so. It was more cavernous than she’d recollected. There was the great stone fireplace, the sofa, some chairs and a side table with a fresh arrangement of flowers. She noticed another palace-sized oriental rug, a mirror, and a coal box. There were so many expensive items to catch her eye. Before she had time to adjust, Buster was pulling her in another direction.

“I call this my playroom.”

The playroom contained a big billiards table, a bar, and a small table the precise size for four card players. The ceiling was wood-paneled and beamed. A phonograph player and armchair sat off to one side.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, and added in a moment of honesty, “It’s a lot.”

Buster came up and put his arms around her waist, resting his head on her chin. He smelled like cigarettes and Brilliantine. She could tell he was feeling amorous, but she was too tightly wound to relax into his arms. “Why don’t you show me the grounds?” she said, to head him off.

He withdrew his arms, seeming to catch on that she wasn’t in the mood. “Why, sure.”

They went out of a loggia off of the living room and Buster let her explore the grounds at her pace. For some reason, even though she was more exposed outdoors to anyone who might be around, she felt more secure. Buster’s sense of opulence was not restricted to the interior. Nelly saw the tennis court and push-button trout stream, and walked down to the extravagant pool, which looked tempting and refreshing as it glinted in the sun. She sat sideways in a pool chair and rubbed her ankle absently. “It’s a lot of space, isn’t it?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Buster agreed. He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit it. He stood smoking and looking into the pool.

“I’m afraid I find it all a little overwhelming,” she said.

“Oh, I can tell,” said Buster, redirecting his gaze to her. “There ain’t no need to feel that way, you know. It’s a house, is all.”

“It’s a palace, Buster. It’s marvelously beautiful, it’s just …” She looked around her.

“Hmm.” Buster closed the space between them and sat next to her.

Nelly touched his knee. “I just forget sometimes that you’re King Charles and I’m Nell the orange-seller.”

“Bull,” said Buster.

Nelly traced patterns on his knee and didn’t answer. The water in the pool lapped in a soothing way and smoke from his cigarette drifted into her face.

“So what’s your castle in the air, then?” said Buster, waving away the smoke.

“Me?” She looked into his eyes. “You know, silly. A Shakespeare talkie. What comes after, I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far.”

“No, I mean when it comes to real castles. What would you do different?” He inclined his head at the Villa.

“Oh, well … I’d shrink it down, naturally,” she said. “Maybe just one story or maybe a bungalow with a little room or two upstairs.” She’d never thought of what her ideal home might look like, but warmed to the idea at once. “It would have plenty of bookshelves and lots of books. Floor to ceiling. I’d have a collection of plays. Maybe I’d have a collection of records, too. There would be space to dance.”

“Even if you were a star?”

“I suppose. I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine having so much money.”

“Easiest thing in the world to spend money if you’ve got it. Everyone does when they do.” Buster flicked the spent cigarette to the marble flagstones and crushed it with his heel.

Nelly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be cross with me. You just have to let me get used to it. It all makes me so nervous.”

“I should have figured it would, the way you were acting at my party,” he said, in a somewhat sullen tone of voice. “Guess it’s my fault for asking you over.”

She kissed his cheek. “Give me a chance to get used to it. You know, maybe a drink would help.” She hadn’t shared a drink with him since his party, but figured it was the fastest path to getting more comfortable.

“You want a drink?” Buster said, brightening.

“Yes. Make me a drink,” she said, squeezing his hand.

They went up the white marble steps past the impeccably trimmed topiaries that lined it and decorated its center and back through the loggia and into the living room. Buster led her into the playroom. “What’ll it be?” he said.

“Something that isn’t whiskey, please,” she said, taking a seat in the armchair.

“Gin Rickey?” he said.

“That’s fine,” she said, not quite knowing what a Gin Rickey was but happy to find out.

She stole long glances of the room as Buster stood with his back to her and mixed the drink. She could grow to like this room, she decided. Of all the places in the house she’d seen so far, it seemed the most like the man that she knew, always eager for a game of some kind, in love with his comforts.

“Here you are,” said Buster, appearing at her side to hand her the drink.

It was clear and bubbly, garnished with a wedge of lime. She took a cautious sip and tasted pine and lime. “It’s delicious,” she said, smiling at him.

Buster returned the smile. “Good.” He went back to the bar to pour himself a glass of whiskey. “Game of billiards?” he said, standing before her again.

Nelly took a generous swallow of the cocktail and although he was sure to have an insurmountable advantage over her said, “Sure.”

She went over to the billiards table and Buster walked over to the wall to push a button. To her marvel, a long, lavish metal light decorated with scrolls descended from the ceiling. He pushed another button and light was cast over the red-velvet billiards table. Buster smiled at her astonishment and flipped open a built-in cabinet, from which he selected a couple of cue sticks. He handed one to her.

“Ready to get whupped?” he said. “Your turn first.”

“No, you,” she said firmly. “You need all the advantages you can get.”

Buster laughed. “You’re pretty confident, kid.”

It was a lie, of course. She’d never played the game well but didn’t want to show how green she was. She could at least try to mimic his form if he went first. He lifted the triangle away from the balls and went to the south end of the table holding the cue ball. She watched him place it in the left corner of the table and chalk the tip of his stick. Not missing a beat, he laid his left arm on the table and threaded the cue through his forefinger, then pulled his right arm back. It seemed as though he barely tapped the cue ball, but the pyramid of balls went scattering. “I call stripes,” he said, after watching to see where all the balls went.

Nelly took a large gulp of her drink and set it on a nearby table. She was remembering Buster shooting billiards in a film whose name escaped her. Each shot had been impossible. “How did you do those trick shots in that one picture of yours?” she said, grasping her cue stick.

“Sherlock, Jr.?”

“I think that was the one.”

“What’ll I get for telling?” he said, lifting an eyebrow.

“I’ll let you win, perhaps,” she said.

That made him laugh. “It was practice. Four god damn months of practice. I had a teacher, one of the best players there is, and it still took us five days to get all the shots. Quit stalling, though. It’s your turn.”

Nelly stuck out her tongue and leaned over the table as she’d seen Buster do.

“No, no, no, you didn’t chalk your stick.” He took it out of her hands and wiped the piece of chalk around the tip. “Here.”

Rolling her eyes, she took the stick back and again set up her shot. She aimed at a solid green six-ball and shot. Instead, she hit a striped eleven-ball and didn’t get anywhere near any of the pockets.

“Oh Nelly,” said Buster, laughing.

She didn’t mind that she was going to lose to him. It was worth it to see the way his grin lit up his face. “I’m deliberately putting you at your ease,” she said, narrowing her eyes and lifting her nose. She wandered over to her glass of Gin Rickey and finished it.

“Want another?” said Buster, gesturing.

She nodded.

They went on like that for the next half-hour, taking turns at the table. Buster beat her handily in three out of three games. “You can’t play at all,” he said with mild incredulity, after all of his balls were in their pockets at the end of round three.

Nelly set her drink (it was her third) on the table and hopped up onto the edge of the table. She was feeling happy and free and relaxed now. “So I told a fib,” she said, smiling and swinging her legs. “So what?”

Buster couldn’t hold back his laughter. “You’re awful bold.” He positioned himself between her legs and tilted his head up for a kiss. She pressed her mouth to his, tasting whiskey. “Want a lesson on form?” he offered. She shook her head, stroking her finger across his lower lip. “Well, what do you want?”

“You tell me,” she said. She traced a finger across his cheekbone and his eyelids grew heavy. His lips parted.

“It involve a bed?” he said, sounding dreamy.

“Maybe.” She grabbed the rest of her drink and finished it. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Second floor. C’mon.” Buster helped her down from the billiards table and took her hand again. She followed him up the grand stone staircase and onto the landing. He paused a few moments to unlatch a heavy wrought-iron gate. He led her through it and down a short hall, then took a right into a small circular vestibule with an intercom and dumbwaiter. Before Nelly had a chance to ask where they were, he pulled her through the next doorway.

She knew at once that the bedroom wasn��t his. There were too many feminine tells: a mint-green screen decorated with flowers, a lamp with a pink shade, French perfume bottles on a bureau. Buster was nibbling her throat, but Nelly was looking over his head at the photographs of his children hanging on the walls. He steered her over to the edge of the king-sized bed and pushed her to a seated position. It sat atop a platform and was the biggest bed she’d ever seen. He sat beside her and started working on the dress buttons at the back of her neck.

“Oh, we can’t,” she said, pushing his hands away.

“Huh?” said Buster, looking affronted. “Why not? Thought you wanted to.”

“I do, but not on your wife’s bed. Buster, it would be wrong.” She stood up.

“Look, I never once made love to her on this bed.” He appeared confused. “No one’s made love on this bed. She don’t do that. Not with me, not with anyone.”

“It’s not just that. It’s—I don’t want to take her place anywhere. I don’t want to be in her room,” she said. Her head was fizzy with Gin Rickeys, but she was never more sure of herself. She turned on her heel and walked back to the vestibule.

Buster’s footsteps followed her. He caught her arm. “Don’t be like that, I didn’t mean to upset you.” His face was so soft and pleading that she couldn’t stay angry with him.

“I know you didn’t,” she said, though ignorance didn’t excuse his mistake. She stood dumbly as Buster ran a hand up and down her arm.

“Want me to take you home?” he said, voice remorseful.

“No. No, I don’t.” She smiled at his doubt and put her arms around him, softening further. “Let’s just stick to other parts of your house, alright?”

“Alright. Well, can I take you to my bedroom?”

She had to bite back another smile at his persistence. “Sure.”

A similar round vestibule preceded Buster’s bedroom. This led to a small hall which led into the main bedchamber. Both his room and his bed were half the size of Natalie’s. The curtains were drawn, making the room dark and cool. Nelly tried not to look too hard at the photographs. There was one of his sons in front of a large dressing mirror that connected his two bureaus.

“I built that,” he said, thinking she was admiring the mirror and dressers. “Designed it myself. Gabe helped me build it at my old studio.”

She was surprised at this bit of trivia. There were very few areas into which Buster’s talents didn’t extend, it seemed. “It’s a handsome piece of furniture,” she said. She noticed that the picture opposite his sons’ had been turned onto its face and attempted to give it no more thought.

“Sorry the bed’s not made, but the servants are gone for the weekend.”

“You can’t make your own bed?” said Nelly, turning to him and giving him a playful pinch. Her nervousness had begun to melt away again now that they were out of Natalie’s territory.

“What’s the point? It’s just going to get mussed up if I make it.” He returned to kissing her neck and this time Nelly tried to force her nerves away. His lips were soft, his breath was warm, and that was all that mattered.

In no time, they’d gotten onto the bed. Buster bent over her, his leg threaded between hers, kissing her fiercely and clutching one of her breasts. She ran her hands up and down his back as his tongue entered her mouth. The bed smelled like him and she imagined, vaguely, what it would be like to wake up next to him in it, tumbled in these expensive blankets and sheets; to watch him dress and get ready for the studio; to see him off with a kiss and spend the rest of the day in idleness and frivolity, waiting for him to return home so they could go to dinner or attend a party at Pickfair. She couldn’t make up her mind whether that sort of life would be the meaning of happiness or unbearably stifling. Realizing that her thoughts had wandered again, she brought herself back to the present by sliding her finger into the seam of Buster’s button-up shirt and easing one of the mother-of-pearl buttons from its hole. Buster withdrew his hand from her breast and knit his arms behind her back so he could do her the same courtesy, plucking open buttons as they kissed. When all buttons had been accounted for, Buster sat up and pulled his arms out of his sleeves, while she stepped off of the bed and out of her dress.

“Now,” said Buster, when she was back on the bed. “Where were we?”

“You tell me,” she said, looking down at his lap. He was still wearing his dark grey trousers.

He grasped her by her bare shoulders and steered her onto her back. As he crouched on top of her, caging her in with his hands and knees, she reached down to undo his trousers. Her fingers brushed against his erection and he moaned, appreciative of the contact. She let her lower instincts drive her when the buttons were undone. It was natural to stroke him just so, to lick at his ear, to tell him how hot he was making her, but these actions, done of intuition, left energy for her mind to resume its peregrinations. It took so little to make Buster happy, and was no great chore to content him in bed. He liked all the usual things that men did. None of the deviations that she’d heard whispered about Charlie Chaplin during his divorce seemed to hold any interest for Buster. He never desired sex to such a degree that it was burdensome. Admittedly, she felt just as passionate for him as he did for her, but she tried to consider what it would be like if she didn’t. She still didn’t see what the harm would be in indulging him, in keeping his bed warm. Too little payment for so great a debt.

She clung to his neck and kissed it while he inched her knickers down. He entered her with a sigh a few moments later. He hadn’t mentioned a prophylactic and she hadn’t asked. It was easy to forget sense when he made love to her. She forgot, too, what time it was and that they were at the Villa. Instead, her mind coasted along currents of pleasure, following each one to its length until she encountered the next.

“Flip over,” said Buster, pulling her out of the reverie she’d sunk into.

“Hmm?” she said.

He withdrew from her body and sat up on his haunches. “Right here.” He patted a portion of the bed to indicate. “But with your head toward the mirror and your feet sorta pointed at the pillows.” He tugged off his undershirt.

Her heart pounded. They’d only ever made love on their sides or with Buster on top. She unhooked her brassiere, wriggled onto her stomach, and stretched out, her head facing the mirror.

“Now, I’d like it if you…” He sucked in breath as he dragged a finger from the top of her neck to the slight swell above her bottom. “Get up on your hands and knees.”

Her pulse throbbed. To obey him would be downright wicked, not respectable, not ladylike, but the moment Buster made the request she perceived what a superb idea it was. She rose to the position that he wanted her in and arched her back.

Two words. “Oh, Christ.” She had never heard his voice sound like that, dark and worshipful, like he was a pauper and had been handed a sack full of gold objects.

He lined himself up behind her, and there was a quick mutual adjustment of legs and feet before he entered her. Following instinct again, she pushed back to meet him. She closed her eyes to savor the new pleasure. As a consequence, it took her a couple minutes to realize Buster’s reasoning behind the position. When she blinked her lids open, in such a daze that it felt like she’d drunk ten Gin Rickeys, she saw them in the mirror together, Buster rising above her backside with abs standing out in stark relief, one arm stretched along her back and anchored on her shoulder. His eyes met hers and she pushed back. Not breaking her gaze, he pushed forward. She’d never seen herself in such a way before, her arms splayed, her hair starting to fall out of its chignon, her breasts swinging with every push by Buster. His breath was fast and hard. He was muttering sweet things to her through his moans, Oh darling and You’re so good. For her part, she’d never been so excited.

He wouldn’t last like this, but she sensed that he wasn’t meant to. She gave another push back and he broke against her with a choked cry. “I can’t, Nelly, oh I can’t …!” He doubled over her and clutched her breasts, gasping as he came in her. She met his uneven thrusts, grinding herself against him for all she was worth, craving those last frissons of euphoria before he withdrew. She lifted her eyes to the mirror and watched him pull out and collapse on his back against the mound of his pillows, his chest heaving. Her arms were sore as she drew alongside him, but the pain was distant.

Only when she met his eyes did she realize what had just happened. Buster’s groggy look of pleasure was changing to fear. “I was trying to say, ‘I can’t stop,’ ” he said, feeling for her hand and squeezing her fingers when he found it.

Impossibly, she’d forgotten that there was no barrier between them. She dipped a hand between her legs and encountered the excess wetness there.

“I’m so sorry,” said Buster. She’d never seen such an expression of worry on his face.

She propped herself on her elbows, still half in a daze from their love-making. “Do you have a—where are your pants? Your handkerchief.” She had trouble commanding the words.

Buster slipped off the bed and picked up his trousers, feeling in the pocket. Wordless, he handed her the white square of cloth. She wiped away as much of the wetness as she could. “I’m sure it’s fine,” she said, after she’d bunched up the cloth and thrown it clear of the bed. She was now beginning to feel worried, but only because he seemed so worried. “The chances are very, very small.”

He was standing at the foot of the bed running a hand through his disheveled hair. “If it comes to that,” he said, in a halting way that told her he was still arranging his thoughts. “If it does, I’ll help you sort it out no matter what. Okay?”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Come here.” When he was close enough, she pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed it. “Don’t worry.” In her head, she was counting up the days since her monthlies had appeared last week. She came up to eleven, not quite the midpoint. The midpoint was when most women conceived. She looked up at Buster. The furrow beneath his brows was deep. “Please. Stop worrying.”

He sat next to her and knit his hands together and stared ahead. She thought she detected a peculiar luster to his eyes.

“Darling, it’s as much my fault as it is yours. I forgot too.” She reached out and brushed the hair back from his forehead. “There’s no point in worrying unless I’m late.”

“I won’t go without a thin from now on,” said Buster, as though he hadn’t heard her.

Her head began to ache. The Gin Rickeys had worn off. “Please. Please stop worrying.”

Without any warning, Buster threw his arms around her and clasped her tight, so much that he took some of the breath out of her. He held her like that for several long moments, not saying a thing, before releasing her. “Alright, I will,” he said.

“Good.” She held his cheek in her hand until he looked her in the eyes and she was satisfied at what she saw in his. “Now I’m the one who’s hungry this time. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Buster seemed to cheer up a fraction. His voice sounded a bit sunnier as he said, “What would you like?”

“Oh, anything. Whatever you want. I’m sure I’ll like it.”

Nelly thought they dressed more somberly than usual this time, collecting articles of clothing from the bed and floor and pulling them on without saying a word. Despite her reassurances to Buster, the weight of her predicament was beginning to settle on her. All the canteen lunches on the set of Steamboat and at United Artists had taught her that there were two choices for girls whose famous lovers had put them into a condition. They could go away for a period of confinement and give up the child when it was born. Or they were put in touch with a doctor who could take care of their situation.

Buster disappeared as she was buttoning up her dress and she heard the faint sound of his voice from down the hall. He was speaking to someone. She froze. Natalie must be back. She looked around in horror and spotted a doorway to the left of the bureau. She hastened through it and found herself in a bathroom. Hiding in the shower would be absurd, but it was the best place to conceal herself. She decided to wait to hear if footsteps approached first. The seconds dragged on. Her pulse thudded and her head throbbed in an angry way. At long last, she heard someone enter the room, but there was just one set of footsteps. “Nelly?” Buster called.

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and made her way to the doorway. “Are you alone?” she said in undertones.

Buster, who was standing at the foot of his bed, looked toward her in bafflement.

“ ‘Course I’m alone. What do you mean?”

Relief descended and she came back into the bedroom. “Who were you talking to?”

Buster gave her an odd look. “Caruthers. Ordering food.”

Although she was comforted to hear that Natalie had not made an unexpected return, she was dismayed to hear that someone else was in the house with them. “I thought you said everyone was gone?”

“They are,” he said. “I can’t go without Caruthers, though. He does all the cooking. And I need someone to fetch things if I need ‘em. I can’t just go out like you.”

“Oh,” said Nelly, somehow not feeling satisfied with this explanation.

Buster gave her shoulder a squeeze. “He knows about us, anyway. And before you go worrying, he’ll never breathe a word. I trust him with my life.”

She wasn’t happy to hear that Buster had given away their secret. Though the butler had been friendly the night he had driven her home, she knew that servants gossiped. Perhaps male servants didn’t do it to the extent that female ones did, but she didn’t think it was worth chancing. “If you think so,” she said, not able to keep the skepticism from her voice.

“Buck up,” said Buster. “Anyway, how else was I supposed to get you a nice dinner tonight?”

Tonight. The Gin Rickeys, the dark room, and the torrid love-making made her forget it was still daylight out, but of course it couldn’t be past two or two-thirty. She stepped toward the mirror and took in her disarrayed hair. “If he knows I’m here, I ought to fix my hair before I go back downstairs.”

Buster smiled and looked self-satisfied. “Ain’t no need for you to go anywhere. Go on and fix your hair, and I’ll call you when the grub’s here.” He took a silver brush from his bureau and handed it to her.

She stayed in the bathroom until Buster yelled for her, not wanting to be caught in the room when the butler wheeled in a cart of food. It would be too uncomfortable. She stepped into the bedroom but didn’t see Buster. “Where are you?”

“In here.”

She followed the sound of his voice and, feeling cautious, went down the hall and into the vestibule where she saw Buster holding a silver tray with both hands. It held two or three covered dishes. He cocked his head at a dumbwaiter she had not noticed earlier where there was a smaller tray holding glasses and soda pop bottles.

“You grab those there,” he said.

She did as she was told and they went through another door of the vestibule and onto a balcony, where there was a small table and a few bistro chairs. “Oh my,” she said, as she caught sight of the view. The balcony was directly over the east portion of the house, which stretched out at an angle beneath them. That was not what had taken her breath away, however. From here, there was a perfect view of the marble steps, swimming pool, and tennis court, and sloping away from them, the estate wandered down to the great flower bed beside the winding drive that they had come up. It wandered farther still, past the palms and shrubs, and then there were mansions as far as the eye could see in every direction, beautiful mansions so well-arranged on the hills that they looked the very picture of an Italian town. That was where all of Hollywood lived, Marion Davis, Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, Norma Shearer, Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd, and here she was among them dining with Buster Keaton. For a minute, she felt far removed from her previous life in Evanston and her current one as a humble extra and prop manager, tasting what it must be like to be a movie star.

“Like it?” said Buster, setting the tray on the table.

Nelly nudged her tray next to his, considered the warm sun on her shoulders and the breeze, smelling earthy and almost living, and nodded. Maybe it was the view, maybe it was laughing and eating fresh strawberries and cream with Buster after they’d finished purée of potato soup and veal cutlets, but from that hour forward she took a better liking to the Villa and began to see it as he did. Her worries were, for the remainder of the evening at least, set aside.

Notes: Are you surprised by this chapter? I was. What I had in mind was just a nice rendezvous for Nelly with Buster at the Villa, but there was much more tension and conflict and unexpected directions than I’d thought. The length also got away from me, but I hope you won’t mind that. It’s hard to explain, but when you’re writing--when you’re immersed in your characters--sometimes they just act on their own and you just follow. Did I intend for Buster and Nelly to have unprotected sex that resulted in Buster accidentally finishing in her? No. Did I intend for Nelly to be so resistant to Buster’s home, help, and all the rest? No. I just wrote and the characters’ natural actions suggested themselves without a single thought on my part. I think I will wrap this chapter up for now and just call the next one Chapter 30, even though it takes place the same day and same place. And yeah, that’s a photo of Buster in his bedroom. Dreamy, huh?

#Buster Keaton #fan fiction #RPF #Actor RPF #Golden Age Hollywood #silent film

9 notes · View notes

diskwrite-ffxiv · 3 years

Text

ffxivwrite 2021 - #18 Devil's Advocate

Continued from #17 Destruct ( first | second | third | fourth )

Gridania, 1565 6AE

Naturally, the first thing she did was tell Ezette.

It had to wait until evening, and after the girls went to bed, but the two of them collected into the conservatory- or once was anyway, until Shandrelle made the choice to move the plants outside. Drawn shut against the evening stars, the thick green curtains on every window spanning its several slanted walls blanketed the room into more cave than dwelling, and all the cozier for it in the orange glow of the oil lantern sitting on the end table between their plush yellow chairs.

There in the comfort of home, wrapped in a soft woolen blue robe with golden vine embroidery fringing the cuffs and a cup of rapidly cooling tea clasped in her hands, she disgorged the story. Ojene’s sudden arrival, the unexpected response. The threat. Then the mystery she brought with her, and her last request.

At the end Ezette sat back. The slim handle of her porcelain teacup dangled absently between her brown fingers as if she’d forgotten it was there, yet she was well into her second cup. Dressed for evening she wore a matching robe of scarlet, the patterned vines blooming to her throat.

“Well, that’s a lot.” The ends of her hair bobbed as Ezette spoke- let down for the night it haloed her head in a cloud of tight black curls.

“It is,” Shandrelle exhaled in a sigh.

“If you want to get involved… Do you want to get involved?”

“I’m not sure… I don’t know what I’m going to do about it yet, I’ve barely had time to let it sink in, let alone make a choice.”

“Of course, of course,” Ezette murmured, and with deliberate economy she poured herself a third cup of tea. “Do you want to talk it through?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation they found themselves in, Shandrelle couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “I’d like that very much.”

“All right.” Squaring her shoulders, Ezette settled in, planting both elbows upon the arms of the chair as the rest of her body flowed languidly before her, shins peeking out from between the folds of the robe. “Well- my first thought is that you don’t owe her anything.”

“Don’t I?”

“Of course not. It was thirteen bloody years ago when you saw her last. That’s long enough for any blood debts to be paid.”

“Try telling her that,” Shandrelle laughed dryly, but whatever joke there was fell flat, desiccating midair between them. “No, I guess that was the strangest thing. I don’t think she really cared about that- but who knows! With her, it could turn up a few moons later that she’s been carrying this grudge toward me all along, but then I don’t really know her anymore, do I? And she doesn’t know me.“

“True,” Ezette offered.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t be surprised if part of all that was whatever old ire she might hold against me, but she hardly addressed it. It was all about what was happening now. And maybe if the question is resolved she’ll just drop off again and we won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“That would certainly be nice,” she said dryly. “I know you’ll probably have already tossed this into the bin, but you wouldn’t consider turning her in, would you?”

“No!” Shandrelle blurted aloud. “No, of course not.”

“Then, I suppose we’ve got two options left. Either you work with her… or you don’t. Though I suppose if you did work with her, you don’t have to do what she said. You can do some other thing for her, if she’ll agree to it. Maybe… I don’t know, go to a few dinners, ask your father some leading questions- the works.”

“Maybe.” Shandrelle groaned. “My father. I can’t believe that he might be tied up in all of this. Again.”

“Would he be the one, do you think? If what she said is real.”

“To be honest… I don’t know.” At long last, Shandrelle took a sip of her tea, but the tepid liquid was merely an excuse to pause and think. “I don’t think it makes much sense, but then again- he did tell her to leave the Twelveswood. And now she’s back. It depends on whether or not he’d be willing to enforce that over a decade later, I suppose.”

“And who else would it be, really,” Ezette mused to herself.

As the two of them lapsed into silence, Shandrelle let her eyes close. Behind them sat a hallowness that throbbed with the slow beat of her heart, one that on another day could have threatened to spill into fresh tears. Yet in the maw of exhaustion that surrounded her, nothing came.

“Maybe I’m just scared, Ezette,” she murmured at last.

Ezette’s head jerked up. “Of what?”

“That it is him… but also that it isn’t. I don’t know, maybe it’s the whole of what this could mean. We’re happy now, or at least I’d like to think we’re happy-” In response, Ezette’s brow pleated and she outstretched a hand. Shandrelle snatched it up, clinging on tight. “This could upend… everything. And she said it was bloody dangerous, to boot.”

Gradually, Ezette’s fingers eased between hers, squeezing them softly at the base. “You don’t have to be afraid of that,” she said softly. “At least not for us. For the danger- if there’s more than what she’s said we’re going to have to talk about it. But we’ll be fine, no matter what comes.”

A deep breath chuffed through Shandrelle’s nose, and her cheek crimped around one side of her quiet smile. “I thought you were going to try to talk me out of it.”

“Well… I thought I was too.” With another squeeze of her hand, Ezette released her grip and settled back into the chair. “I’m not thrilled by the thought of you in danger, but- your work has always been riskier than mine. I can live with it, as long as you don’t do anything rash. And if you try your best to be safe.”

“Of course. Always- without question.”

“Then… do what you think is right. Just go carefully about it- and maybe tell me once you’ve made up your mind. Before you do anything, so I don’t break myself worrying about you in the meantime.”

Quickly, Shandrelle captured Ezette’s hand and gave it another firm squeeze. “Perish the thought,” she said, her throat unexpectedly tight.

#ffxivwrite2021 #my writing #ojene suinuet #shandrelle roiveaux #ezette roiveaux #me: watching as this slowly turns into a longer story #I did always like long-form writing much better than writing short snippets and it probably shows lmao

3 notes · View notes

hometoursandotherstuff · 10 months

Text

OMG, my dreamhouse. This home in New Orleans is gorgeous, b/c I love 'em old inside, full of patina and character. It has 5bds, 4.5ba and is listed for $1.450M. Good thing someone bought it, b/c I can't afford it, anyway.

As soon as I saw this entrance hall, I fell in love. I love this look.

Crazy about these 2 rooms. I wonder if the plants convey b/c they're perfection. This is incredible, it's all original. I can't believe they didn't make it brand new.

They fixed up the pool room, but they left the molding and floor untouched. Maybe this room was in such bad shape they had to fix it.

The kitchen is fabulous. It's not renovated whatsoever. Look at the original sink and vintage stove. There's also a bed in here.

Oh, this room is glorious. It's like a conservatory. Love the flooring, too.

Wow, look at the guest powder room under the stairs. I don't really like that rusty sink, though. It's cute, but I would have to try to clean it up more.

The home has a courtyard and another wing.

This is lovely. Original shiplap, beautiful view of the garden, and I love the fixtures in the bathroom, plus the floor.

This is so nice. The bedroom opens to the courtyard and I love the fireplace.

Isn't this stunning? The main bd has a sitting room, a little mini kitchenette, a double fireplace, and spiral stairs.

The bathroom is small, but it's cute.

Wow, here's a spacious room with an en-suite. Look at the rusty tin ceiling.

What happened here? Who put up a new bath with vintage fixtures?

This must be an attic room.

Wow, cool workroom.

The courtyard is so nice- pool, hot tub, sitting area, and look at the lovely balcony.

They put a container in the yard, painted it purple, and made it a fabulous guest house.

Or, it could be someone's bedroom/bath. This is so cool. And, look at the vintage sink, plus how can you not love a Medusa shower curtain?

Wow, I didn't realize this home was so large, looking at it from the front.

#NOLA home #historic home NOLA #houses #house tours #home tour #old house dreams

175 notes · View notes

crystalstar8 · 3 years

Text

Knights of the Night (ch. 5)

Chapter 5

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,942

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

“Come downstairs and meet our new friends!” said Hoseok.

Catalina’s eyes widened when she saw the person coming around the corner upstairs. He was bookmarking the book in his hands and closing it. As he walked down the stairs, Catalina took in his sharp, intelligent eyes, his full lips and otherwise soft features. His hair was styled delicately over his forehead, his shoulders were broad, his chest was big, even under his sweater and…

Catalina knew those thighs.

Jungkook choked beside Catalina and nudged her.

“Thighs,” he whispered. Catalina nodded.

“We saw you in the souvenir shop the other day,” said Catalina. “I’m sorry, uh, my name is Catalina.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Namjoon said with a smile, his dimples appearing. Catalina blushed. He was way too gorgeous. “Yeah, Hoseok and I stopped there on our way into town the other day. I think I remember seeing you two there.”

“Oh! You guys work at the souvenir store!” said Hoseok. “I knew you looked kinda familiar.”

“Yeah, we’re only there on the weekends,” said Jungkook. “We’re only gonna be working for the season.”

“It seems like an interesting job,” said Hoseok. “You’ll get to see all the tourists.”

“You guys are all students?” asked Namjoon. Catalina, Jungkook and Jimin all nodded. He asked them about their majors and what kinds of classes they were taking, which they happily answered until Catalina caught a glimpse of the time.

“Guys, it’s three am,” she said. “We should probably head home.”

“Oh jeez, we have that stupid French class at eight tomorrow,” said Jungkook.

“We won’t keep you then,” said Taehyung. “Classes are important.”

Taehyung walked them all out, through the front door this time, and the three friends began making their way back to the car.

“Well, that was interesting,” said Catalina. “We didn’t die, so that was cool.”

“I thought they were all pretty cool!” said Jungkook. “I mean, still a bit weird, but cool.”

“Taehyungie wants me to teach him how to play video games,” said Jimin.

“He wants you to teach him?” Jungkook asked with a laugh. Jimin smacked his arm.

“We’ll be learning together,” said Jimin.

“That’s so cute,” said Catalina. “You already have a nickname for him. Anyway, I have a question: why the hell were they all so attractive?”

“I was thinking the same thing!” said Jimin. “It didn’t make any sense! Like, normal people don’t look like that. They were way too beautiful.”

“We’re normal people though,” said Jungkook. Catalina and Jimin looked at him in confusion. “I mean, we’re hot too. Sometimes people are just hot.”

“We’re like, normal people hot though,” said Jimin. “Those guys were like…gods or something.”

“Yeah, way too pretty. Perfect skin, perfect hair, all charming,” said Catalina.

“Red eyes,” Jimin mumbled.

“Okay fine, they were unusually pretty,” said Jungkook. “I’m just glad we got some awesome footage today. I can’t wait to dump this.”

“Okay, well don’t do it tonight, because we do have class tomorrow morning,” said Catalina.

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

Catalina was running again. Always running. Her feet were bare and her lungs burned. The concrete beneath her feet gave way to metal grating. Her footsteps clanged and echoed here as she made her way through the tunnels. She glanced behind her. It was dark, but she could see a set of red eyes approaching her, almost glowing. These eyes weren’t the ones she was used to. These were mean. These eyes looked at her like she was prey. The man who the eyes belonged to walked, as if it didn’t take much effort to chase after her. He had a sickening smile on his face.

Catalina needed to get out of these tunnels. If she could get back to her friends, they’d protect her.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” the man said, his voice mirthful. “Don’t you know trespassers get eaten, little kitty?”

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

“I don’t remember what he looked like, but I remember what he said,” Catalina said to Jungkook as they made their way to the library. “He said, ‘Don’t you know trespassers get eaten, little kitty?’ Just like in your story.”

“That’s creepy,” said Jungkook. “He had red eyes though? Was he one of those guys from the house?”

“No, definitely not,” said Catalina. “I remember thinking about them, and you and Jimin, and thinking that I needed to reach you guys because you’d keep me safe. This is the first time I could remember so much.”

“I wonder what these dreams mean,” Jungkook said as he opened the library door for her.

“Thanks. Yeah, I have no idea,” said Catalina.

“Maybe they’re prophetic,” said Jungkook.

“God, I hope not,” Catalina said as they approached the table. Jin and Jimmy K were both sitting there, textbooks open.

“Well, well, well,” said Jin. “Look who decided to finally show up today.”

“You don’t have to greet us like that every time,” said Jungkook as Catalina laughed.

“How are you guys today?” asked Catalina.

“Now that you’re here? Fantastic,” said Jimmy K with a wink.

Catalina blushed and said, “Okay, that’s enough, captain.”

Catalina and Jungkook sat down as Jin began their tutoring session and Jimmy K studied silently beside them.

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

“So, game night,” said Jimin. “Do either of you know what to expect tonight?”

“Nope! I’m just excited to sit around and eat,” said Catalina. “Take a right up ahead.”

“Where? There’s no driveway, oh wait,” Jungkook turned into a somewhat overgrown driveway, hidden by the woods. “Also, we have a premier to watch!”

“They’re gonna love it,” said Catalina. “Jimin, did you have fun yesterday?”

“I did! Hoseok is a really good dancer,” he said. It’s been a week since they broke into the house and met Taehyung, Hoseok, and Namjoon. Yesterday, Catalina and Jimin had invited Hoseok to a freestyle session in the campus studio. He was happy to join them and show off his moves. They all ended up teaching each other different styles, but it was mostly Catalina and Jimin asking Hoseok to teach them the pop and lock style he was so good at.

Jungkook’s car pushed through the heavily overgrown driveway until they reached cobblestone, which led right up to the mansion. Catalina closed her phone map and said, “Well, it’s good to know there’s an easier way up here.”

“Yeah, I thought we’d have to keep hiking up those rocks every time,” said Jungkook as he put the car into park. The three friends piled out of the car, arms full of snacks, wearing their comfiest pajamas. The porch lights of the mansion were on, illuminating Taehyung as he opened the front door.

“Welcome!” he shouted. “Did you find it okay?”

“Yeah, Hoseok texted us a route,” said Catalina.

“You guys and your fancy telephones,” said Taehyung. He let them in and they all took off their shoes. “So, we were thinking some board games tonight. Or card games. Or a game Hoseok described to us called Pictionary. Or we can just chat. Or-“

“Tae, that all sounds great,” said Catalina.

“Right, sorry,” he chuckled. “Here, follow me.”

They followed Taehyung through a few halls before entering a cozy lounge. Big plush couches lined three walls, a flat screen tv was mounted against one wall and a low coffee table sat in the center of the room. Hoseok and Namjoon stood up from the couch as they entered. The smile fell from Taehyung’s face.

“Where’s Yoongi?” he asked.

“He said he wasn’t in the mood for game night,” said Namjoon.

“Who’s Yoongi?” asked Jimin.

“He’s our other roommate,” said Namjoon. “He’s been tired these days.”

“He promised!” Taehyung pouted. “He told me he’d come to game night.”

“Let’s go find him then,” said Hoseok.

“I’ll go with you!” said Catalina. “I really want to see the house.”

“Me too!” said Jimin.

“Me three,” said Jungkook.

“Okay, Tae tae, Namjoon, you two stay here and set up a game. I’ll give these three a tour,” said Hoseok. They dumped the snacks onto the coffee table and followed Hoseok out of the room.

He led them through the massive house, through rooms so grand, Catalina wondered how big this house actually was.

“This is the library,” said Hoseok. The room they were in was enormous. The ceiling was cavernous and domed and the bookshelves towered high.

“This is an impressive collection,” said Catalina.

“I know, these guys do love their books,” said Hoseok. “They’ve been collecting for years I guess.”

“I’m sure,” said Catalina.

Hoseok then led them through several hallways then showed off his bedroom. His room was so unlike the rest of the house, it felt like stepping into another world. Everything was bright and colorful, there were brand posters all over the walls and an impressive shoe collection beside the closet, which was open and showing off an array of colorful clothes. Hoseok then took them on a walk through the conservatory. There wasn’t much growing right now. It was mostly cracked marble and empty pots.

“Maybe we can fill this room with plants next summer,” said Hoseok.

“I garden with my mom every year,” said Jimin. “I’d love to help.”

“That would be very nice,” said Hoseok. “This house deserves to be put back together again. It’s just so pretty.”

He then led them back through the house. As they walked the halls, chatting about their classes and classmates, Catalina could hear the faint sound of a pipe organ.

“Ah, he must be in the auditorium,” said Hoseok. Catalina’s eyes widened.

“The auditorium?” asked Jimin. “You guys have an auditorium in here?”

“With a pipe organ?” asked Catalina. Hoseok chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“I know, right?” he said. “These guys are so dramatic. I guess they’re used to a certain lifestyle and they’re all rich for some reason…I mean, back in collage, I was happy when I could afford a cup of ramen in my one room dorm.”

They followed the sound of the pipe organ until they came to the auditorium. The three friends gasped as they entered. The auditorium wasn’t huge, but it was incredibly elaborate. When Catalina was about twelve, her mother had taken her to a show at the Detroit Masonic Temple. This auditorium reminded her of the Masonic Temple auditorium, all carved wood and velvet seats. Up on the stage was a huge, ornate organ. The pipes lined the walls near the ceiling, emitting long, haunting notes. A man sat at the organ, hunched over the keys.

“Yoonie-boonie honey-baby!” Hoseok shouted in his loudest, cutsey-est voice. The man at the organ stopped playing. Hoseok skipped down the aisle and hopped up onto the stage. “We have visitors, come meet them!”

The man turned around slowly to look at them. He was just as beautiful as the other residents of the house. His eyes were dark red, just like the others, catlike and tired. His round face was pale, his lips in a slight pout.

“I thought we weren’t having humans at the house,” Yoongi said. Hoseok laughed loudly, slapping his knee.

“We’re all human here, so I’m not sure what that means!” said Hoseok. Catalina and Jungkook laughed along with him as Jimin just looked at them with wide eyes. Yoongi seemed like an interesting character. “Come to game night with us. I miss my honey-boy Yoonie bear.”

Yoongi stood up and looked down at Catalina, Jungkook and Jimin from the stage.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Will there be food at game night?”

“I brought salt and vinegar chips,” said Jimin.

“I brought chocolate,” said Catalina. Yoongi pointed at her.

“A woman after my own heart,” said Yoongi. “I’ll come.”

14 notes · View notes

monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Embers - male dragon shifter x reader, Chapter Eleven (sfw)

Another fluffy chapter, but I hope you enjoy seeing our boy opening up a bit more and learning to be ok with being vulnerable. Featuring Celia too, our niece.

Also it's way longer than I wanted it to be, but when the muse insists, you know? It's 2353 words, no warnings, sfw.

Next week, it's Murder Mystery Dinner evening!!

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Morning crept through a chink in the curtains and flashed gently off the glinting scales on his bare torso.

Mikaeïl lay fast asleep, his lips gently parted, exposing the points of his canines to you as you stared in wonder at him. Perfectly naked, though the sheet was draped rather artistically across his hips, he looked like a temple statue, his torso pale as marble until it seemed to catch fire with those coppery scales.

He didn’t stir until after nine, and you were perfectly happy to doze with your head on his shoulder. He hadn’t shifted back to his usual form after the exertions of the night before; his hands were still clawed, and the scales rippled up his arms to his elbows. He shuffled slightly and tugged you closer to his chilly body and you grumbled. “You only want me because I’m warm,” you grumped.

“Not true,” he slurred sleepily, nuzzling at your neck.

“Mostly true?”

“I can’t deny that I like how warm you are,” he said, blinking groggily. “But you’re gorgeous and funny and talented. And I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way you came so beautifully for me last night…”

You blushed at that and buried your face at his chest. Surprisingly, Mikaeïl turned out to be ticklish and you nearly got a spined elbow in your face for that.

Later as you sat at the table in his conservatory while he cooked eggs for the both of you, your phone buzzed and you saw the message preview from your brother. ‘Hey, I’m so sorry but can you take care of Celia tonight?’

You opened it and bounced a reply back. ‘I had plans with Mikaeïl this weekend… what’s up?’

‘Work’ he replied. ‘They need someone to cover the late shift’

Knowing he needed the money, you sighed just as Mikaeïl came over with a cup of tea in his now ordinary-looking hand. “Everything alright?” he asked, setting it down on the table and pushing it towards you. “Different blend this time,” he added while he waited for you to reply.

“It’s my brother,” you said. “He wants me to take care of Celia this afternoon and tonight. He’s got called in to cover a late shift at work.”

“That’s alright,” Mikaeïl smiled, reaching up and stroking your hair affectionately just above your ear. “Would she like to stay here? I’ve got plenty of spare rooms. We could have pizza and a movie and a sleepover or something?”

Unexpectedly, tears filled your eyes and you hugged him.

When your brother dropped her off, you saw the way Mikaeïl weighed him with his gaze. Your brother was taller and broader than you by a long way, and had the rough edges that made him good at his job with the police force, but there was a familial similarity between you. Celia barrelled out of the car a moment later and flung herself at you, and you spat a feather out of your mouth as the little half-siren flapped about excitedly. The moment she saw Mikaeïl, however, she went quiet and still, and looked a bit anxious. Glancing back at him, you realised that he’d slipped back behind his glacially cool mask again.

“Mikaeïl, this is my brother, Jon. Celia you’ve already met, I think.”

“Briefly,” he said, shaking your brother’s hand before crouching down to be at Celia’s eye level. “It’s nice to see you again, Celia. I suppose it might be strange for you to be here without your flute…” she shrugged and he smiled. “Well, you know where the music room is if you feel like going there.” He glanced up at you and added, “We thought we might have a go at making some pizzas for supper tonight. Would you like to help us with that?”

“Making them?” she asked, her eyes going wide, as if she’d never considered the possibility that you could make your own pizza. She probably hadn’t, to be fair.

“Mmhmm,” he smiled. “We’ve already got the bases. You can put whatever you like on top.”

She perked up a bit at that and offered him a wary smile, and your brother chuckled. “I can see she’ll be in good hands tonight. Not too much sugar afterwards though?” he said and you nodded.

“Take care,” you said, giving him a quick hug. He bowed his head once and climbed back into his truck after handing Celia’s bag to you and giving her a farewell hug and asking her to behave herself.

Celia trailed you inside, but didn’t seem to settle. She kept looking warily at Mikaeïl, and the more often it happened, the more distressed Mikaeïl seemed to get. Not that it really showed, but there were little cracks in that porcelain mask of his that seemed larger to your trained eyes now than they ever had before.

He ground his teeth and looked a little panicked. Then he blinked and smiled slightly. “Celia?” he asked in a quiet, gentle voice. “Do you like magic tricks?”

“Yeah…?” she said cautiously from her seat beside you in the conservatory full of plants.

“Do you know what a sparkler is?” he asked, going over to a kitchen drawer. You watched him curiously but didn’t intervene. He had captivated her attention completely.

“Yes,” she said. “We have them at Halloween.”

“That’s right. I know it’s not Halloween now, but I have some. Would you like me to show you a trick with one?”

“Like a magician’s trick?” she asked, unimpressed.

He shook his head. “No. I’m going to use real magic. You want to know a secret first?”

She nodded immediately.

“Well, you’ll have to promise not to tell anyone unless I say you can… Can you keep a secret?”

Celia’s eyes widened and she nodded again.

“Alright,” he said, and knelt down again, lowering his head to show her his horns. “You see these?” he said, tapping one and she stepped warily closer. “You know what they are?”

“Horns,” she said, patronisingly.

“Indeed,” he chuckled, still with his head bowed. “And which creatures have horns?”

She thought for a moment. “Frankie does,” she said. “But you don’t have sheep feet.”

Both of you snorted at that and Mikaeïl bit his lips for a moment. “No,” he said, still smiling. “I don’t. Can you think of any other creatures who have horns?”

Again, she thought about it. “Tieflings have horns, and minotaurs, and… uh… some lizards do. There’s a lizardfolk girl in my class who has little horns but they’re yellow not red.”

“What about a dragon?” he said quietly and she gasped.

“Yes! But… You’re not a dragon…”

“How about if I told you I can change my shape,” he said. “Like a werewolf can shift between wolf and man…”

“You’re a weredragon?!” she giggled, clapping her hands. “Can you only change on the full moon?”

Mikaeïl shook his head and sat back a little bit, still down on one knee, but more crouched now and resting his elbow on his knee. “No,” he said. “I can shift whenever I like, but it’s very painful because becoming such a big creature takes a lot of effort. But that wasn’t why I wanted to tell you what I am. What can dragons do that most others can’t?”

“Fly?” A reasonable guess.

“That’s right, but what else can they do. It’s related to that sparkler I mentioned…”

She went very still and her eyes got even wider. “Can you breathe fire?”

“I can,” he said, “But only as a dragon. When I’m like this though, I can still control it. Shall I show you?”

He stood and got out the box of sparklers from the back of a low drawer and held one between finger and thumb. With a click of his fingers, the sparkler lit and began to crackle and fizz. Celia laughed at the simple trick, but when he raised his other hand and began to gesture, she gasped again. The little sputtering sparks flew away from the stick and began to dance around the room. Somehow he kept the reaction going and they popped and danced all the way around the room until they finally fizzled out.

“Do it again!” she cackled immediately.

That set the tone for much of the afternoon. Mikaeïl became almost another part of the family to her, listening to her stories about her music and the things that fascinated her, even though they couldn’t have been of any interest to him whatsoever.

Pizza making was probably a mistake, given that you ended up with olives on the ceiling and flour all over the floor by the end of it, but she had a grand time and only made it halfway through the cartoon movie she chose from Mikaeïl’s online TV subscription before she collapsed in a snoring pile of feathers between you on the sofa.

“Let’s get her up to bed,” he smiled, and you nodded.

You led a very sleepy child up and helped her wash her face and brush her teeth before tucking her and her little stuffed minotaur into bed for the night. “I’m just at the end of the corridor,” you said, “So if you need me, you can find me, but I hope you sleep well.”

As you left, she wiggled in bed and sat up. “Are you and Mikaeïl like mummy and daddy were?” she asked.

You felt a tightening in your throat as she brought up your late sister-in-law. She’d been the life and soul of every gathering until she’d fallen ill. “Maybe,” you said cautiously. “I’d like to be, but we haven’t known each other as long as Jon and your mother did.” A moment later you asked, “Do you like him?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “He’s scary but I think he’s nice.”

“I’ll tell him you said that,” you laughed and she giggled. “Go on, lights out.”

When you went downstairs again, you found Mikaeïl in the last stages of cleaning up the bomb-site that had been the kitchen.

“I’m sorry about that,” you said. “I know that wasn’t how you intended to spend our first weekend together.”

He looked up at you then and you saw a strange, tearful expression on his face.

“Mikaeïl?”

A single tear rolled down his cheek and he set the cloth down that he’d been using to wipe the surface.

You crossed to him and held him, cupping his cheek in one hand. “What is it?”

“She’s a delight,” he said. “That’s all.”

“That’s not all,” you insisted gently, “But you don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

His eyes darted to the sofa and he said, “I’ll join you in a minute…” and you backed off, knowing he needed another few moments to himself. The arrival of you in his life had been one huge change for him - he’d told you as much already - and you didn’t mind being patient with him.

When he did come and sit with you, it was with a whisky in his slightly trembling fingers, and he sat with one leg folded under him in a remarkably childlike pose. You hooked your arm around his shoulders and gently toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Can I take it down?” you asked, tugging slightly at the hair tie.

He nodded, and a moment later his fiery red hair was falling loose around his shoulders.

“Thank you for the way you were with her today.”

“She was frightened of me to start with,” he said, staring at a point on the other side of the conservatory wall. Darkness pressed against the windows and you thought vaguely about shutting the blinds, but you didn’t want to move from his side. The length of his thigh was pressed against yours, as if drawing heat and comfort from the contact.

“She’s wary of most people,” you said. “I don’t think it was personal. She likes you now though… she told me so upstairs before I said goodnight.”

“Really?”

“Mmm. You worry too much, Mikaeïl,” you said, thumbing away the creases that lingered between his sharp copper brows. He still hadn’t really articulated quite what was troubling him.

After a sip of whisky, he said softly, “The ‘me’ that you’ve come to know…” he glanced around the kitchen, “Here, at home… It’s not the ‘me’ I present to the world. I find it difficult to reconcile the two people… you know?”

“I figured,” you said and he turned to look at you. “I mean, when I first met you, I thought you wanted to eat me or something. You looked so cross that I’d held up your day with a question about flute lessons for my niece…”

“I was cross,” he admitted with a chuckle. “And I was late to my lecture because of you.”

“You were?”

“Mmm.”

“I’m sorry.”

He laughed again and his shoulders dropped a good two inches as he relaxed. He surprised you by kissing you, not squarely on the mouth, but delicately, right in the corner. “I’m worried that at the fund-raiser next week… I won’t be the person you’ve come to know. I’m worried that you won’t like ‘Professor Mikaeïl…’”

You snorted and grabbed his whisky from his hand, setting it down on the low table before swinging into his lap to straddle him. He looked surprised, but pleased. “I’ve heard you being called ‘Kaeïl’ by Frankie, and ‘Mikki’ by Kiriavin, and I’m sure your sister has a few choice names for you as well, judging by what you’ve told me about her. You can be lots of different things to different people, Mikaeïl, but you are this to me,” you said, and you grabbed his horns and kissed him.

He bucked his hips up slightly into you at that, with his deep, sonorous, happy rumbling echoing in his chest, before holding your waist and then hugging you tightly while he kissed you back.

When you finally parted, he smiled, eyes glowing and glistening, and said, “I worry too much.” You both laughed at that.

—

Part Twelve

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon! (no new content planned in March (and no charge to existing patrons) but access to everything else is available)

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher!

#dragon shifter #dragon shifter x reader #dragon x reader #male dragon x reader #embers #weekly chapters #weekly story #nearly finished now though!!#not too many more chapters left!#hope you're still enjoying it

229 notes · View notes

notyetneedcoffee · 5 years

Text

Glasshouse

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Nothing – this one is a load of FLUFF

Written for the @cake-writes 1k followers challenge. Thanks for the prompt!

ooooo

“You’re fidgeting.” Pepper Potts smirked into her champagne.

Crossing your feet at the ankles, you tugged at the hem of your lavender cocktail gown. Cool air circulated through the back of the limo, but you wished you could roll the window down for fresh air. “You know I’m not very comfortable in dresses.”

“Well, I think you look lovely.” Tony Stark smiled.

“Thanks, but I know I look alright. I just prefer my jeans and boots.” You winked.

“Yeah,” Tony half turned to his girlfriend. “How come she gets away with the casual attire. How many times did force me into a suit?”

Pepper smiled. “No, I just tried to make sure you weren’t wearing the clothes from the night before. Y/N can dress however she wants. She’s my PA. She doesn’t work for the company. Besides, even in jeans she’s always stylish.”

“Thanks, Pep.” You grinned. “I’m really looking forward to this. I’ve always wondered what it looked like at night. Thanks for the invite.”

“No problem. It’s a great event.”

The limo pulled onto the road along the edge of the New York Botanical Gardens. It lined up with the other cars for a drop off at the steps of the Enid Haupt Conservatory. You could see the enormous Victorian-style glass house. The late afternoon sun shone off the panes.

“Is there going to be anyone else there that I know?” You asked.

“Joseph, Mike and Rachel from the CFO office with be there. Kim from the gallery is coming, too.” Pepper thought.

“I gave tickets to Rhodey Nat, Bruce and Cap.” Tony finished off his drink. “Although, I don’t know if they’ll come.”

You took a slow drink, silently hoping one in particular did.

As your limo pulled up to the Conservatory, you smiled. The entry courtyard looked beautiful with extra pots of late summer flowers, six foot candelabras with flickering electric bulbs, and a long carpets rolled out for guests.

Tony got out first, smiling for the photographers. He held his hand out for Pepper, who gracefully slid from the car. They posed for just a moment. Tony then reached out a hand for you. You forced a calm smile onto your face. Stepping out, you managed to not fall.

Inside, the scent of earth and oxygen rich perfumed air hit you in the face. You loved it here. The botanical collection dated back more than a hundred years, and the building reminded you of the giant Victorian glass house like those in Kew Gardens in London. Ran or shine, this garden was perfect.

Tonight, tall cocktail tables speckled the area allowing for people to set down their drinks. Wait staff wove between guests with trays of champagne or wine. Some trays were full of hors d’oeuvres. You wondered away from Pepper and Tony, more interested in the flowers than the business associates.

As you made it to the Desert displays, after walking through the orchids, you spotted Steve Rogers. He wore a perfectly tailored dark blue suit, his tie a bit loose. He held a full glass of champagne. You stopped, watching for a moment because the look of complete panic in his eyes made you want to laugh.

Four lovely, but heavily made up, young ladies crowded closely around him. Their clothes were very expensive, and if you were any judge, so were their hair extensions. They beamed up at the super soldier, practically draping themselves over him. He looked immensely uncomfortable.

Few people wandered this far from the center of the conservatory, where the party was most dense. You wondered if he’d come out here to get away from the crowd. Perhaps the quartet ambushed him. An idea brought a smile to your face and you turned back the way you’d come.

Finding what you needed, you turned around and marched straight towards Steve. At the last second he saw you coming and stepped back from the women as much as he could without stepping into the plant beds. Holding out the glass in your left hand, you slid yourself between one of them and tucked yourself into Steve’s side.

“Here you go, Babe. I told you I could find you a beer even at a function like this.” You smiled up at him, trading him the beer for the champagne.

Even though he’d only met you in passing a several times over the months, Steve easily fell into your ruse. “Thank you, Sweetheart.” He pulled you a little closer and kissed your temple. Taking a long draw off the glass, he sighed. “So much better. Mmm,” He licked the head of the beer from his lips. Your eyes following his tongue. “Y/N, this is Britney, Rachel, Sarah, and Ashley.”

“Girls.” You nodded with a smile. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“I didn’t see you come together.” Sarah smiled coldly.

“I came straight from work.” Steve answered immediately.

“So, I just rode with Tony and Pepper.” You finished.

“Oh,” She looked deflated. “We didn’t realize you were involved. It’s never been reported.”

“Benefit of working with a bunch of spies.” You smiled into your champagne.

Steve laughed. It was a warm genuine laugh. His hand, comfortably resting on your opposite hip, pulled you a little closer. He smelled wonderful, woody, spiced, and rich. You hand slipped under his jacket to rest on his lower back.

“Well,” Rachel gave a tight smile. “You make an adorable couple. I could really use a fresh drink.”

The others agreed and the four soon wondered off, leaving you and Steve standing alone among the cactus and aloe. He pulled you a little closer. You could see the pulse beat at his neck. His tongue slid over his lush lower lip. In the time you’d known him, you’d never been able to just admire him. Doing so this close practically took your breath away.

Steve’s breath tickled your ear. “I owe you.”

“Yes,” You giggled. “Yes, you do. The look on your face when I walked down here was priceless. You looked like cornered prey.”

“I didn’t want to be rude, but they were coming on pretty strong.” A light flush colored his neck. Even though the reason for your ruse had walked away, he still kept you close with his hand on the small of your back. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“No problem.” You smiled. A part of your mind marveled at how utterly comfortable his touch felt. “This is a great suit, by the way. You wash up pretty well.”

He beamed. “Got to wear something other than a uniform once in a while.” Steve’s eyebrow quirked up, he leaned very close to your ear. “I’ve never seen you in a dress before, completely took my breath away.”

You pulled back and looked him in the eye, somewhat surprised.

“You’re lovely anytime,” he grinned, expression softening. “But you look particularity stunning tonight.”

“Wow, thank you.”

Steve led you around the beds of plants, walking slow. “I’m sorry we’ve never really had the chance to talk much. Every time I’ve seen you, you’re in and out before I’ve had the chance to say anything.”

“The only time I ever get over to the compound is when Pep needs Tony to do something. And running him down is like chasing a toddler who’s eaten too much candy.” You giggled.

He laughed. “That’s pretty accurate. He thinks highly of you, though. Which is saying something. There’s not many people Tony compliments for their intelligence.”

You gave him a sly smile. “Sure. He’s just worried I’m going to reprogram his shower to go ice cold at random intervals, or that I’ll have all his suits taken in by a half inch.”

Steve’s laugh drew the attention of a few people milling around. He pushed his fist against his mouth, trying to hold it in. “I would pay money to see Tony freak out because suddenly nothing fit.”

“Oh, he would never say a word.” You chuckled. “He would just drink more of those awful concoctions instead of eating, and work out like mad, and have F.R.I.D.A.Y. do all sort of body scans.”

“You’ve thought about this too much.”

“Got to keep my mind occupied while I’m waiting on his preening before events. He takes twice as long as Pepper.” You tossed him a sideways grin.

As you walked slowly through the plants with the warm air carrying the complex earthy smells, the hand on your back held your complete attention. His palm was hot, you could feel it through the fabric of your dress. The urge to lean into him felt overwhelming.

“You know,” taking a sip of champagne, you steeled your nerves. “You can always call me sometime… if you want to talk.”

Steve stopped, looking around. He took you by the arm and led you behind a gorgeous display of purple and pink orchids. “That would be okay?” The innocent question in his eyes made your heart flutter. You nodded. He smiled. “Okay. I’d really like that. Although you know, I never know when I’ve got to go…”

You touched his chest, stopping his words. “Believe me, after spending the last year and a half working with Pepper, I complete understand how chaotic your life can be. It’s not a problem.”

His blue eyes studied you, intense yet curious. Moving a piece of your hair away from your face, his thumb barely brushed your cheek. Such a tiny gesture, such a delicate sensation, yet you needed to fight the urge to moan.

“I suppose you would.” A soft smile curved his lips. “It’s not exactly something you can just explain to some one. Would you like to go for a walk?”

“Yeah,” you tucked your hand into his arm and set your glass on a nearby table. “I would like that.”

Steve set down his own glass and covered your hand with his own. He led you out of the ornate iron and glass doors. Wondering slowing along the path, the difference between the warm air of the glass house and the cooling air of park made you shiver. He stopped, and removed his jacket. Before you could object, Steve’s suit jacket was settled over your shoulder. The scent of him becoming stronger.

You sighed. “Thank you.”

He stood directly in front of you, pulling the jacket closed. You watched a pinched line form between his brow. “I need to confess something.”

“Oh?”

“We, um, we may not have had much chance to talk,” the pink flush touched Steve’s neck again. “But, I do, um, know a fair amount about you.”

“Have you been checking up on my file?” You teased, faking shock.

He smiled, biting his lip. “At first, but I saw the reference to your past times, and that led to that website with all your sketches.”

“My Instagram?”

“Ah, yeah. You’re really good.” He tucked your hand into his arm again and turned you towards the roses and conifers. “I like your pencil work. You have a great eye.”

“A what does Steve Rogers know about art?” You glanced sideways at him.

A wide smile spread across his face as he looked up into the trees. He sighed.

“What?”

“It’s just that you asked ‘what does Steve Rogers know’ not ‘Captain America’.” He couldn’t wipe the smile away.

“It’s who you are.” You stated plainly, although the way he beamed was infectious.

“Yeah,” Steve stopped, taking your hands into his own. “But people tend to forget there’s a man beneath the uniform.”

You nodded, knowing it to be true. “I don’t need to be reminded of that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve sighed. “And it’s really nice.”

You giggled. “And you’ve avoided the question.”

“Oh,” He shrugged. “I draw a little, too.”

“Really,” Your fingers wound in his. “What other secret talents do you have? And don’t say bench pressing a BMW, because that’s not a secret.”

Steve laughed. Holding your hand, you began your walk through the garden again. “Um, I like to bake bread.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I used to help Bucky’s Ma back in the day. I still remember how. There’s just something about filling the house with that smell, you know?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“What about you? Any other secret talents?”

“You cannot tell Tony about this one.” His brow popped up, but he nodded. “I know Shiatsu. I give a killer massage.”

“Really?” Steve’s grin turned devious.

“Any more secrets?” You leaned into a little closer.

“Oh, I’m full of secrets.” His voice dropped just a little. You involuntarily licked your lips. Damn.

“Yeah.”

“M-hm” Steve’s eyes drifted between you eyes and you mouth.

“Like what?”

“Like I’ve been dying to kiss you since you called me Babe.”

Your lips parted in a silent ‘oh’ just as he leaned close. Steve’s lips brushed yours, a gentle and soft touch. His hand slid along your waist. Pulling back enough to look into each other’s eyes, he smiled before pulling you closer. Kissing you more thoroughly, his tongue tentatively touched your lip and you opened eagerly for him.

His other hand slid to the back of your neck, as the keep deepened. You leaned into his strong body, feeling his muscles beneath the smooth shirt. A small moan escaped your throat as his teeth lightly tugged at your lower lip. Steve broke the kiss, only to rest his forehead against yours.

“Whoa.” You grinned, wanting wrap yourself around him, surprised at the intensity of your reaction.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “So, um, it may be a little old fashioned but can I ask you to be my girl?”

You kissed him again, pulling him close and molding your body against his. Smiling against his lips, you purred. “I can definitely do with a little more ‘old fashioned’ in my life.”

TAG

@rainbowkisses31 / @dsakita / @geeksareunique / @lbouvet / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @theneuropsychwriter / @vanillabunn21 / @sammghgecko / @beautifullungs / @badassbaker / @the-omni-princess / @sebbysstangirl / @jesseswartzwelder / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @the-reading-octopus / @bangtan-serendipity / @kiki5283 / @mindtravelsx

#cake's 1k followers celebration #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction

532 notes · View notes

the-fiction-witch · 4 years

Text

Cute

TV SHOW: GAME OF THRONES (AU) COUPLE: JOJEN X READER RATING: SMUT

I sat in the car with my pillow and my bag of stuff as my mother drove down the long the road beside the unending feilds. The radio wizzing and humming where it was fading in and out of stations, the smell of the feilds of crops coming though the cool crisp Aircon. Until we pulled up to the large house with the infinatly long drive way where the familiar red head stood in her grey dress. "Hi!!" Sansa smiled climbing in the car with her stuff "Hi" I smiled giving her a hug which she happily returned "You excited?" She smiled "Very," I laughed as the car contained to drive off with me and Sansa chatting the whole time till atlast we got to the large green house I thanked my mother giving her a hug before we headed up to the house giving the door a little knock and the for instantly opened "Yay!!" Meera smiled giving us both hugs "this is gonna be amazing come on come in" she says letting us inside, I looked around at the green house with plants and tools everywhere, a huge conservatory to the back leading out to the garden, I saw the TV on as her father howland was still here but he was clearly getting ready to go out. And I saw her brother jojen stood in in the open kitchen he had clearly just been getting a drink but freaked and almost dropped it as he saw us all, I blushed a little seeing him he was really cute or atleast I think so. "Ahh!! There's girls here" he says in shock "I told you I was having a sleep over!" Meera argued "arent you going to see my brother tonight?" Sansa asked as jojen and bran often hang around together mostly due to there clubs at school, "No, that's next week" he says "Fine but stay in your room!" Meera warned him as she showed us up to her room.

"He's the most wonderful boy ever, he brought me flowers last time we went to the movies" sansa explained I was a little bored sat on the floor of Meera's room hugging my pillow while the girls talked about what else but boys. "So... Your going out again?" Meera asked "Of course, we're meant to be" she says "Didn't you say that about Luke three weeks ago?" I remind "And about that Peter guy last Month?" Meera reminds "And Kim the month before?" I remind "Well this time I know" she says "Well, Marcus brought me a necklace last date night" Meera smiled showing off her rather impressive necklace "I think he might be the one" "Aww that's so sweet... I want Joffery to buy me something like that" Sansa cooes "y/n we really need to find you someone so your not single anymore" "Trust me I'm fine" I said "Well what kinda boys do you like?" "Different kinda boys, I'm not into the whole football team, muscular boys I like the... Chess team boys and the library boys" I explain "What so someone like... Meera's brother?" Sansa laughed Meera laughed too but I sat with a little bit of a shrug "Why she's serious?" Meera says stopping Sansas laughs "your kidding right? So if a line of the most sexy boys ever asked for a date you'd turn them down for a chess club boy?" "I find intelligence kinda sexy, and cute" I smiled "So... Do you think my brother is cute?" "Yeah, jojens cute" "Awwwwwww I ship them so much!" Sansa laughed Luckily the conversation moved as sansa got a texted from Joffery about them maybe sneaking over Tonight luckily as they arrived I managed to sneak away as I didn't exactly wanna be around couples anyway, they wouldn't notice I was gone not while they're boys are here. I thought about going down to watch TV but I saw another door, jojens door. I listened for a moment but didn't hear much so I pushed it gently open, his room was the same size as Meera's even if his window over looked the garden, he has some plants on his windowsill and almost every surface in his room was covered with three things, books, clothes and tissues. His double bed sat in the middle of the back wall with a record player on a side table, he sat on his bed with headphones connected to the record player by a long spiral cord often moving his head along with his music while he did work in his various books and papers. "Hi" I smiled waving a little making him jump taking his headphones off "Uhh hi" he blushed "What are you listening too?" I asked Moving to stand by his bed "Uhh nothing much just some of my dad's old record collection" he says so I took the headphones from him putting the over my own ears it was some old rock stuff that my dad listened to alot and I laughed turning it off "Very cool jojen," "Not to be rude or anything but... Why exactly are you in my room?" He asked "The boys" I sighed "Oohh... Right. Guess you didn't wanna be around the making out" "Yep, so I came to see you" I smiled sitting beside him in his bed "Uhhh okay" he blushed putting his stuff down "your Uhhh your nightie Looks nice" "Awww thanks" I smile "your PJ's are cute too... What do they say on them?" "Oh uh, the shirts just last year's University challenge shirt, and the uhh the shorts aren't really shorts there just my uhh my underwear" he blushed "Ooh sorry jojen" I blushed "It's okay, I just didn't know you'd be visiting" he blushed "I was ordered to hide in my room, so... I'm hiding" "Aww that's so sweet" I smiled quickly giving his cheek a kiss, he flushed bright red looking more scared then I has ever seen him before "Uuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh i- I uhh I ummm" he stuttered trying to do much of anything to respond "Do you wanna hide in here together?" I asked "we can cuddle and listen to the records?" I suggest "Uhh okay" he nodded sitting up a little more having to nervously strech over me to unplug the headphones and start the player again turning it on low enough not to disturb anyone else but loud enough so we could hear it I laid down in his bed and he carefully laid down with me. I laughed taking his hand giving it a little kiss before wrapping it around my waist, he looked even more scared so I nuzzled into his neck which helped him relax a little bit. We laid cuddled up for a while our finger tips gently exploring each other often nuzzling our heads closer to each other making little happy moaning noises "uhh y/n, can I tell you something?" He asked "Sure" I smiled "I uhh I've had a really big crush on you... For like the last ten years" "Really?" I asked Moving away and gw nodded "aww jojen I like you to" "You do!" He asked in shock "your not saying that to be nice right?" "Of course not" I laughed "Did Meera and Sansa dare you to do this?" "What no, they don't even know I'm in here" I laughed "Sorry... It just all seem a little to good to be true that's all" he blushed "How about I prove it?" I smirked he looked a little confused but I pulled him closer and kisses his sweet lips, he instantly understood what I was doing and kissed back not wanting to waste such an opportunity his hand still on my waist gently pulling me closer till I pulled back "Whoa..." "How'd I do?" I asked "Uhhh I don't really have comparison's" he blushed "Really?" I asked "Well you a lot lot better then my imagination" he blushed "You wanna do more?" "yes" he nodded very quickly "Or maybe... Did you wanna make out?" I suggest "Uhhhh okay" he nodded very nervous but very excited so I pulled him closer kissing him again moving my lips against his own which he happily copied within seconds he was hovered over me one hand behind my head and shoulders the other on my waist as I hand both of mind around his neck our kisses deep and lusty as our teenage hormones had complete control of our actions or well jojens did as I didn't have much of a say in it, as our kisses deepened more both of us often Moving our heads for better angles and moment in our kisses. I felt his hand experimentally move up a little from my waist his finger tips hovering on the bone of my bra I smiled in the kiss taking his hand and moving it so his hand made full contact with my breast, "Uuuummmm.." he groans in the kiss as he gently began fondling my boobs first just the one hand and soon enough the other hand joined in too. After a little while I moved his hands back how they where and his grip on me tightened so hardly an inch was between us, I sped up the kiss as I felt something rather hard and stiff pressing desperately to my leg "Umm jojen" I smirked as I pulled back "Ooohh my god, y/n..." He groaned desperate to kiss me again I let him the kiss starting to get very hot as I began running my hands around his fluffy blonde hair until "So that's where you snuck off to" Sansa said at jojens door with Joffery in tow we instantly pulled away putting space between us "Ooohh somebodies excited hey jojen" Joffery laughed as it was pretty obvious to everyone jojen was hard before he quickly covered himself with his blankets "A word..now" Sansa says so I got up giving jojen a kiss and going out with her as Joffery went downstairs "she's gonna kill you" "Where is she?" "In bed with her boyfriend, me and Joffery are headed downstairs, I take it you'll be fine in jojens room?" "I'll be very fine" I smiled "Okay, Don't go in Meera's room, don't come downstairs and none of us will go in there" she says handing me my stuff, I nodded before going back inside I put my stuff by his door and slipped off my bra and panties from under my nightie and as I did I noticed something he was still sat covering himself with his blankets but his eyes closed and his hand under there too "Ummm uuumm uhh y/n" he groans clearly jerking off "Jojen, you couldn't even wait for me to get back" I laughed putting my pillow on the other side of his bed and he blushed "I got desperate okay" he complained "Aww okay, wanna keep going?" I asked sitting over his thighs and he nodded little crazy "wanna feel now?" I smiled he was confused but I pulled his hands back to my boobs "Oh my god! Where uhh what happen to the bra?" "Do you really care?" "Not really no" he blushed as he fondled and groped my boobs until one of his hands slipped down to grab my butt and he realized "holy fuck that's all your wearing" "Well done jojen" I smirk he blushed but sat up slipping his shirt off and moving the blankets away leaving him naked against his bed his pale skinny body laid amungs the covers his rather tall hard cock stood begging for attention "So it's fair" he blushed "Umm jojen he's so big" I smirked kissing down his neck "but it's not really fair is it after all... I can see everything" I smirked before I went to slip my nightie off but he stopped me "Can uhh can I do it?" "Of course" I smiled and he happily took my nightie off for me his eyes looked at every inch of my naked body. And before I knew what was happening he flipped us over so my back was against the bed he sat ontop of me kissing me lustfully grabbing a condom from his bedside draw while his other hand groped my butt.

13 notes · View notes

mraaronwhite · 3 years

Text

THE GOLDFISH

We sat in the conservatory of my weathered, beach side cottage, overlooking some tomato plants and a splintered oak bench that I collectively called my back garden. Now, being a cottage, you would be forgiven for thinking that this was a small affair, the kind of cottage that malicious, child-eating witches would inhabit deep in the woods. Not this cottage though. There was actually too much room believe it or not. Well, too much room for a man and his cat at least.

You see, I grew up in a cramped, narrow excuse for a flat in Edinburgh. Usually being able to touch two opposing walls at once. So, when I inherited this place, a fortnight ago, from my recently deceased Aunt, it was a breath of fresh air to say the least. It felt like the perfect excuse to have a party. Not to celebrate my Aunt just dying (she was a grumpy old boot, mind you) but rather the fact that after twenty-three years of always wanting a place of my own, I finally had it.

I messaged the group chat, letting them know of the upcoming shindig to mark my housewarming, informing them that they would all be coming. None of them having a choice in the matter, I joked. There were ten of them in the group, eleven including myself, and we had been inseparable since the later years of high school. That fact surprises most people actually. Given that when folk head off to university, college or go backpacking through Asia, they normally lose contact. After all, it’s a perfect chance to reinvent yourself, and doing that sometimes means saying goodbye to some folk.

Not us though. We had to be different. Having nearly been out of high school for as long as we were in it, our collective friendship was as strong as it ever. We hadn’t all been together in nearly a year as well, so when I sent out the invites, they all jumped at the chance.

The night itself exceeded my wildest expectations. We laughed, we sang, we laughed again. It was a night of pure merriment and happiness and it will live forever in my head as one of the high points of my life. As I sighed a breath of relief when I moved into my sand surrounded home, I did the same when I saw all my friends together again that night. My face literally started to hurt with the amount of smiling I was doing, which only made me smile all the more.

All good things must come to an end though I thought, and as the clock flashed one in the morning, the designated drivers began ferrying home their passengers. Before they left however, we had but one tradition to enact. An exclusively Scottish ritual that you have to do at the end of a good party. Listening to Runrig’s Loch Lomond at full volume and jumping up and down like a bunch of toddlers on a sugar high. Once the song was over however, the party was too unfortunately. One by one, they said their farewells and staggered down my grassy strewn path. They waved and honked their horns until eventually they fell out of sight, becoming part of the jumbled mess of streetlights and other late-night travellers.

I ventured back inside my new home and couldn’t help but feel lonely. Lonelier than I had in a while. At least I had Bean though, I thought to myself. She was my ashen-haired feline companion, and we’d been through thick and thin together. I don’t know what I’d do without her to be honest. She’s a nervous wee thing though and doesn’t do well around crowds, so had been chilling in the spare room for the night. That was until I opened the door of course, and then she was out of there at damn near mach four.

As she sniffed and scratched her way around the room, I flung myself into the heap of cushions and blankets people had sat on in the conservatory, their lazy attempt of tidying up before their departure I concluded. I sighed, letting out a small chuckle. Planning on just kipping there for the night, I shut my eyes and soon felt myself drifting off into the endless depths of my unconscious.

A distant toilet flushing filled the house and swiftly brought me back to reality. Then click clack, click clack, click clack. Footsteps. They were closing in and at this point I was on my feet, starting to panic. I had never been in a fight before, but I was about to be if my theory of a murderer checked out. In my drunken state, I never thought to question why someone would go to the toilet before killing me. I looked about the conservatory, trying to see something I could use to defend myself and grabbed the first thing that came to me. A tube of Paprika flavoured Pringles. In hindsight, I could have probably picked something a little more useful, but hey ho, that’s what a night of binge drinking and anxiety gets you. Then as the “Murderer” got closer, she appeared in the doorway. Clio DeLuca. My best friend.

“Where did everyone go??” she said, cool as a cucumber, leaning on the frame of the door.

“They left like half an hour ago” I replied, my face a picture of confusion “What the hell are you still doing here though?? We all thought you left ages ago” I asked, half laughing, while letting out a sigh of relief.

“Funny story. I went to the toilet and kinda just fell asleep half way through.” She told me, sitting down the arm of the raggedy couch. Then flopping onto my makeshift bed, that I had been nice and comfy on only moments before.

“What are you like??” I said, now properly belly laughing. “You might as well get comfy, the buses stopped at eleven.” I paused “Sooo, do you want another drink?”

“Yeah but my heads splitting, nothing hard.” I was about to offer her some of the special stuff but she got in before me “Oooh in fact, have you got any hot chocolate??” She asked, looking up at me with those wild green eyes, that I first met oh so long ago.

“Now we’re talking” I exclaimed with glee “I’ve got just the thing!” I then marched off into the kitchen, meeting Bean as she was having a nibble at some of her biscuits. I flicked the kettle on and shouted through “What one you fancying then?”

“I dunno - hic” she mumbled. The sounds of her then rolling off the couch and wandering through soon followed. “What kind - hic - you got?” she asked, parking herself at my breakfast bar.

“Weeeell” I started, opening my cupboard I that housed my secret obsession “I’ve got your normal supermarket kinds - Cadburys, Galaxy, Bournville?”

“Yeah, one of them is fine” she chimed in.

“Nah, that’s the boring stuff. I’ve also got white chocolate, orange, peppermint, vanilla bean, salte” Bean scuttled into the room, hearing this, thinking I was talking to her, to which prompted Clio to scoop her up.

“Well hiii, where have you been hiding all night??” Bean purred, gladly accepting the cuddles and attention. Clio looked back up at me, staring through her shadowy locks that fell onto her face like a waterfall in the night. “Please continue” she smiled, nodding at the cupboard, all the while still scratching Bean’s belly.

“Ah yes, where we, so we’ve got salted caramel flavour, cinnamon, apple pie and the Pièce de résistance of my collection, genuine Peruvian hot chocolate.” I turned back to her “Think I’m gonna go for the Peruvian blend, you?” I asked. She was back looking at Bean again, given her some more lovin’. She’s always had the attention span of a goldfish, and I always found it quite funny. “I’ll just make the you the same” I laughed.

“Sorry, aye, sounds lovely.” I spooned the mixture into two bulky mugs, hearing purring and some meows coming from behind me. “Sooo” she started, “When did you become the Ramona Flowers of hot chocolate?” she jested.

“What you talking about, I’ve always been into hot chocolate?” she started to speak before I cut her off “Cream and marshmallows by the way??”

“Ooh yes please” Her eyes lit up “But yeah, I know you’ve always liked it but this is like obsessed. Like I’m scared if I don’t like this” she paused, while pointing her head at our mugs “that you might actually kill me.” She looked so sincere as she told me this.

“Shut up” I pleaded, in the moaniest voice I could muster “You know, I don’t have to let you sleep here tonight, I’m doing it out of the pure goodness of my heart.”

“Nah I’m being serious, and once the papers find out, you’ll probably get a cool nickname as well. The hot chocolate killer, perhaps? Whadda ya think, Bean?” She gave a solemn meow.

“Fuc..” she cut me off, looking aghast, while covering Beans ears.

“There’s children present” she shot back, with a hint of faux anger and a wry grin. I then simply mouthed my retort, all the while giving her the finger. Then, just as quickly, she flipped it right back at me. We then both had a good giggle as I stirred our drinks, plopped in the marshmallows and squirted the cream on top.

“Shall we?” I asked, while gesturing to the conservatory with my head as my hands were full. She cradled Bean like a new-born, stood up and we both made our way through.

I gently placed our steaming mugs down on the glass topped coffee table, moving some meekly filled beer bottles out of the way to give us some room. We both fell back into the warm embrace of the couch, prompting Bean to hop out off Clio’s lap and curl up between the two of us.

My Bluetooth speaker, which sat in the corner atop some books, echoed out the tunes of my Spotify playlist which I had shuffled at the beginning of the party. Turning it to a whisper when folk left, I turned it back up again to fill the room with some life.

Looking about, the room, and the rest of the house was an absolute state. Crisps everywhere, too many cider cans to count and an embarrassing amount of smarties lay scattered about the floor, from when I was trying to toss them up and catch in my mouth earlier in the party. A dozen or so polaroids were sprinkled about the place as well, and when one caught my eye lurking under the armchair in the corner I got up and quickly collected the rest. “Get any good snaps?” Clio asked, while taking a generous sip of her hot chocolate, leaving a lovely big creamy moustache under her petit, turned up nose. I smiled, deciding not to tell her. “Daaamn, this is gooood!” she exclaimed, in a warm, satisfied tone, telling me she loved the drink just as much as I did.

“Told ya!” trying to not look smug “Let’s see here” I pondered, thumbing through the small pile of photos. “Hmmha” I grinned, looking at Clio, who was puffing her cheeks and making her eyes go crossed “That’s a good ‘un” handing it to her. She flung herself back onto the seat, seeing the picture.”

“Oh my God, what the hell is wrong with us?” she chortled, leaning forward again to take another sip of the sweet goodness. Her face then quickly soured “Can you skip this one, it reminds me of when I worked in Asda. They played the same six songs on repeat. It was actually hell.”

“Us!?” I asked her, while I pulled out my phone, skipping to the next song “Speak for yourself! I take only good photos.”

“Is that right?” she laughed back, cocking her head, proceeding then to snatch the bundle of photos from my hands. “We’ll see about that” in a determined tone, while furrowing her brow. I took the opportunity to indulge in the heated sweetness of my mug and no less than ten seconds later “Here, look at this, what the hell are you doing with your lips?” shoving the polaroid at my face.

“Its called blue steel, look it up” I confidently hit back.

“I dunno what that is but you LOOK like a goldfish”

“I think you’ll find I look damn sexy” making sure to sound as cocky and arrogant as I could.

“And by sexy” doing air quotes with her fingers “I take it you mean the lesser known definition of the word, meaning to look like you live at the aquarium at Dobbies?” she ranted, putting one her best condescending voice as she could.

“You know, sometimes, your words, they hurt.” Looking back at her, attempting to appear actually upset and offended. She could always see right through my piss poor acting skills though, and we both just started giggling again.

This is the norm for when me and Clio hang out. I make fun of her, she makes fun of me, we laugh about it and on and on it goes. It’s been our routine since primary four, when we first met, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The rest of that night was no exception, we bantered about for a bit then did some actual serious talking as well. Our sexuality, putting the world to rights, family shit. The usual kind of deep topics you chat about after a night of drinking and partying, and before we knew it, I looked at my phone and it flashed 4:33AM.

Bean had migrated over to the open window by this point, she was doing some serious loafing. Presumably to cool down I thought. The dregs of our hot chocolate sat in the now cold mugs and the two of us were cosy under a massive blanket. Her head gently rested on my shoulder.

I peered out through the double doors that lead to my garden, amalgamating into the sands and shells of the dark beach. The North Sea lay before me, stretching as far as the eye could see, eventually bleeding into the never ending abyss of space. An army of stars littering its canvas, shining down on us mere mortals below.

I stared at the colossal entity that was the cosmos, trying to make shapes out of its burning suns. I was at a loss at how the early astronomers of prehistory were able to see anything apart from a jumble of distant polka dots. “Hey” I whispered, gently nudging my shoulder.

“Hmm” She softly moaned to let me know she was listening.

“Do you see anything up there? You know, in the stars.” I continued, still whispering. She craned her neck back and opened her wild grassy eyes to look up at the sky above.

“I dunno” she looked from corner to corner, eventually pointing toward the right of where we were sitting “There’s Orion’s belt.”

“Nah like I mean something new, not an already existing constellation.” I prodded.

“I really can’t say. What can you see?” she asked, shutting her eyes getting comfy under the blanket again. I gazed about the dark blue sky with great curiosity. Then, directly in front of me, high above the wispy clouds I faintly made out the shape of goldfish. Probably because it was on my mind from earlier, but nevertheless, I could see it clear as day. I jostled Clio’s head once again.

“Look, there, right in front of us. Can you see a goldfish?” Groggily sitting up, she focused to where I was pointing and tilted her head.

“Yeah, I can actu…” She trailed off, as did my music. Both of us were looking at the fish in the sky, but now, the stars in our newly discovered constellation were twitching and swirling. They also began glowing much brighter than the other stars in the sky. Both of us were transfixed. The whole thing eventually started pulsing. Going dim and then shining bright. It was slow at first but then gradually got faster and faster. Then, and I’ll remember this moment until my dying day, it appeared in front of us.

There, in the obsidian blackness of the sky, it shone down on us. A gargantuan, glowing goldfish. It swam about as if we were looking through the cold, wet glass of an aquarium. Darting about the night sky as easily as it would have underwater. Its visage, although similar to a normal goldfish, was still very different. Apart from the obvious size distinction, the one before us existed purely as an outline defined by the stars. Its body was see-through, the same inky darkness as the rest of space. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and neither could Clio given her jaw was almost touching the floor. We were both outside by this point, wanting to get as clear a look as possible.

“Te.. tell me you’re” I mumbled “you’re seeing this as well” I eventually mustered, breaking the silence. Clio simply nodded, staring unblinkingly at the godlike being as it swished and swooshed through the cosmos.

“Okay” she finally said “Either we’ve fallen into some weird sci-fi novel or you spiked my hot chocolate” trying to make sense of the impossibility of what was happening.

“Why isn’t it cold though? I asked, looking up and down the beach, and after a few moments had passed, she eventually processed my question prompting her whip her head at me.

“There’s a massive floating fish made out of stars in the sky and you’re worried about the weather? She half yelled, with great incredulity.

“Clio, its 5 in the morning. In February. In Scotland. It should be freezing.” She thought about what I was saying and looked about as well. “Its warm though, and there’s no wind.” I paused “And no noise for that matter.” I paused again “I don’t understand”.

“It’s weird” she started “I feel like I should be scared or freaked out or… something” she looked at me “But.. it feels right. It feels like we were meant to be here. To see” she paused, looking back at the fish who was still merrily swimming about the sky “whatever this is.” I felt the same way, in my gut. I knew that whatever was happening wasn’t meant to hurt or frighten us. So, I began walking forward, taking Clio’s hand as I did so. We walked far onto the beach. It was still warm, still completely quiet.

We eventually reached the waters edge, as close as we could get to the being in front of us, when we notice that the sea itself had stopped. It plateaued to a complete halt. No waves. No tide. Nothing. It looked like a gigantic mirror, that stretched out past the horizon. Reflecting everything that was happening above. I bent down and dipped my fingers in, expecting it to be solid but it was just as wet as the normal sea. Just completely still. As if someone had hit the pause button.

I sat down, cross legged on the shore, as did Clio, and we watched the fish for hours. It swam to the left, to the right. It swam far away, getting smaller, then past the horizon only to jump up again as if it was a dolphin doing tricks.

The sky was gradually getting lighter, now a dusky blue, and we both knew that the fish’s departure was upcoming. Potentially any minute now. It suddenly came to a gentle stop, high in the twilight sky. It was looking right at us, into the deep-seated depths of our souls.

Now, I’m not an emotional man, it takes a lot to upset me. Even the most heart wrenching of films doesn’t evoke a reaction. But at the very moment, I couldn’t help but shed a few tears. Not out of sadness, or even happiness. It was just raw emotion. I could tell by Clio’s sniffling that she was having a similar reaction.

Then, as mysteriously as it arrived, it vanished. Its image fading back into the now pale blue of space. The stars that made up its outline, in their original position. It’s retreat from our world meant that it was back to normal, and in perfect synchronisation, the temperature dropped to just above zero, the wind blew at our backs and the once static waves drenched us in salty seawater.

Needless to say we both screamed out in discomfort, then looking at each other deep in the eyes, we embraced. I hugged her tighter than I had ever before, never in my life had I felt as close to someone as I did in that moment and I could tell she felt the same way. We swiftly then ran back to my cottage to warm up. After a nice warm and soapy shower, a fresh change of clothes (her having to borrow some shorts and a hoodie) she joined me on the couch, where we first saw the big fish, only a few hours ago.

We sat in the conservatory, in silence for the most part. My tomato plants blew in the wind, gently tapping against the glass of the doors. Bean now sitting, curled up between us. Purring softly as I patted her silvery fur. Clio eventually spoke.

“Y’know, no one is gonna believe us” she said, in a solemn tone.

“No” I sighed, while shaking my head.

“Then why should we tell them” she exclaimed. “They’d think we were insane”. I acknowledged her sense; everyone, anyone we told, would think we were mad.

“I just don’t get why” I interjected, to which she looked puzzled “Why did that happen to us, what does it mean?”

“Does it have to mean anything?” I couldn’t help but furrow my brow, not being content with her answer “Look” she began again “When you see a sunset, a deer in the wild or you’re caught in the middle of a thunderstorm, do you ask why?” She paused, looking at me “No, you just enjoy them for what they are. Beautiful acts of nature.”

“But what we saw, Clio. It was Impossible. It shouldn’t have happened. It defies all the laws of physics that we know.”

“So?” she said, shrugging, casually as ever.

“So, don’t you want to know how all of that was possible?”

“Of course, I do, but even if I did, it wouldn’t make what just happen any more meaningful. In fact I think it would detract from the whole thing.” She could tell I was confused, which only made her smile, sit right next to me and take my hand in hers “When you see a magic trick, when you see a magician pick the card you were think of from thin air, what’s the best bit about it?” She said, looking right at me, with her wild green eyes. I thought about it for a few seconds.

“The trick” she smiled even wider “The mystery of it all and the trying to work it out.”

“And if you knew how it was done?” she continued

“It would ruin it.”

“Exactly.” I finally got what she meant and appreciated our night-time visitor all the more. I put my arm around her, pulling her into another hug. Gently kissing her on the side of her head.

Things aren’t beautiful because we understand them or know when they’re going to happen. It’s the fleeting mystery and spontaneous nature of it all that truly makes it exciting. The late-night conversations, when you can’t stop dancing with your pals, warm hot chocolate, a cat’s affection, silly photos with funny faces and stargazing with your best friend. Its moments like these that make you really appreciate the wonderfully weird gift of life.

#Goldfish #sci-fi #scottish #short fiction #short story #weird #fun

1 note · View note