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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

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NATM 2 Rogues (Sans Kah) x Teddy Roosevelt (Super Platonically) || Oneshot

Title: I Was Made In A Mannequin Factory In Poughkeepsie

Notes:

This may become a series. For now though, enjoy the meeting of Teddy!

Plot: Even though Larry has agreed to travel with the tablet between the three museums, seeing as it wouldn’t be fair to out of the blue bring all these things and people (back) to life and then dump them back into non-existence, it was deemed necessary to move Kahmunhrah’s ‘business partners’ to the Natural History Museum so they’re far away from Kahmunrah’s gate and cant even ponder bringing him back- because that is undesirable outcome, for everyone.

After they arrive at the museum, most of the other exhibits (Sans the good old Easter Island Head and Dexter) keep their distance from them. Everyone’s uncomfortable about this move and change, and that’s understandable but it doesn’t feel good at all… until Teddy steps in.

Warnings: I guess, exclusion? But don’t worry, Teddy will fix it

~~~

“Its is a… nice museum, I suppose.” Ivan, the first to talk when they leave their crates -Larry had yet to figure out a place to put them or construct exhibits for them,- the first night at their new home, 3 hours after the sun went down. They had been busy wondering around the halls, exploring the new playing field together… thinking. Now they stand together, alone, back with their crates in a hallway.

No one had come to greet them unless you count the Easter Island Head asking for ‘gum gum’- but they had looked at them, for sure. Some scowls, some glares, but most they were wary looks as people walked away. Its not that the three men expected a warm greeting, but they didn’t really expect news about them to spread so fast, either.

Napoleon takes a deep breath, breaking out of his thoughtful trance and glances up at Ivan. It was be impolite to leave him without a response when he’s attempted -however blandly, - to fix the mood… Looking around the place quickly, Napoleon notes the tall ceiling and the railings. “Uh, oui, it has some beautiful architecture, Ivan… “

“I like the colour of the wood.” Ivan adds, continuing the conversation because what else is there to do?? If this aloneness is any indication of how they’ll be living for the rest of their time here, then theirs no point in sitting and being solemn about it. Al, on the other hand makes a face at the Tzar from his place sitting on his crate beside Napoleon. Napoleon nods in agreement, looking around at the floors with risen eyebrows.

“I agree, it’s very, uh, museum-y.”

“Da.”

Theirs a lapse of awkward silence in the conversation, before Napoleon promptly turns to Al. “What do you think of the wood- “

“Oh nah, nah, nah, don’t look at me. I’m not playing this game with you people.” He takes his hands off the crate on either side of him for the first time since he sat down and rubs the lines left there from how tight he was gripping. “We’re all thinkin’ the same thing. You saw what I saw, how they’re lookin’ at us. They know about Kahmunrah and us. We ain’t safe here.”

Ivan’s eyebrows raise up his forehead. “Are not safe??” That’s a little bit of an overreaction, isn’t it? He was thinking maybe they were looking at a long, lonely life with just each other but… peril? What? That was not on the radar!

“Oui, I agree with him. Ivan, haven’t you heard of Caesar?” Napoleon looks forward again, face growing darker. “A great leader… like us… stabbed thirty-seven times in the middle of a crowded room. These rooms feel like that when we’re in them.”

“I’m sure you are overreacting. These are all but peasant, who- “Ivan immediately squints, on realising what he said. He looks for an even amount of time between Al and Napoleon, suspicious. “Wait.”

“If I was gonna kill you, man, I’d do it my Tommy.” Al raises his gun, rolling his eyes at Ivan. “Which doesn’t work, as we all know.” Ivan and Napoleon nod slowly at that, remembering Al’s idiocy that the man himself choose not to mention. He puts the useless gun back down in his lap. “Besides, probably couldn’t get a knife through all those layers on you, anyway.”

Ivan spares another suspicious look at the back of Al’s head. Then they watch some faceless soldiers pass by them in the hallway, ignoring them completely.

“So, what are we going to do about this??” Napoleon asks, a high and impatient tone in his voice and he whips around the face Al. “I don’t know about you two, but I’ve already died once and I do not look forward to giving that red, horned beast another chance at me.” When he was alive, Napoleon would have never mentioned the Devil outright like that. He never would have suggested he was going to that place, in the first place.

… but now he knows how he’s remembered. He knows what parts of his life he’s judged on. The blood, the fear, and the death. He doesn’t see why deaths judgement will be any different.

Ivan takes a deep breath in, hearing Napoleons words like a stab through the gut, and looks furiously at him, but stays quiet. He’s right…

“Me neither. Boys, we need a plan.”

Ivan immediately rejects one part of Al’s phrase. “I am not one of your monochromatic minions, Alphonse, refrain from calling me your ‘boy’.”

And Napoleon, another. “For what?! Its not like we can charter a carriage and travel back to Washington in our condition!”

Al takes in a deep, refrained breath of his own this time, and slowly turns threatening around to speak quietly to Napoleon, first. “Mate, no one charters carriages anymore anyway. They’re called cars, now. And of course, I wasn’t suggesting that- don’t assume I’m an idiot!”

“I beg to differ! I think it would be much safer for us all if we all assumed that!”

“I’ll get right back to you, Froggy. And Ivan! I don’t take kindly to being told what not to d- “

“Ah! There you are!”

The new voice startles the 3 out of their budding argument, and the all turn down the hall towards where the Easter Island head is planted- to see an older man with a brown moustache, a jolly smile on his face and his hand on the handle of a sword coming towards them. Ivan raises an eyebrow, confused about who this could possibly be and why he is coming towards them so familiarly, Napoleon whips out his own sword and jumps to his feet, and Al just watches the 26th President of his country speed walk towards him, dumbfounded. None of them are yet used to historical figures they know, being alive also.

As soon as Teddy stops in front of them, he calmly raises his hands in surrender. “No, no. Sorry, sir. I just hold the handle of my weapon, so it stays still while I walk. I should’ve known better- my apologies.”

Napoleon holds Teddy’s stare for a moment… Ivan and Al watch the tension a little worried and a little amused… and then the general puts his sword back away on his hip. Something about the way this man calls him ‘sir’, acknowledging their military positions and the kind sparkle in his eyes… Napoleon tries to calm down again, as Teddy smiles to them all in turn, under that moustache of his.

“Good evening, men! I apologise that I’m late. I meant to greet you as soon as we awoke for the night, but I’m afraid there was an unfortunate run in between our night guard and a monkey. Just routine stuff, don’t worry! Its settled now.” He offers his gloved hand to Napoleon, the closes to him, first. “Theodore Roosevelt, 26th US President. Don’t be afraid to call me Teddy, though. I’m not president anymore.”

The way he says it makes them all think he’s joking about not being a leader anymore. Like it doesn’t actually bother him, and none of them understand it.

But they move on, anyway. It’s something to discuss later, anyway.

They all shake their hands and introduce themselves, and Teddy nods his head. Once introductions are over, his hands both touch the sides of his thighs in, nearly a ‘A-Ten-HUT!’ kind of stance, spine completely straight. Ivan and Napoleon appreciate the good form. “So, I trust you’re settling in here well? Everyone is being welcoming??”

Al takes his hands, puts them on Ivan and Napoleons arms and prods them out of the way so he can go toe-to-toe with ‘Teddy’. They just give him dirty looks and shuffle to give him room, Ivan rolling his eyes at Al’s temperament. Such a child. “Actually bub, they been givin’ us dirty looks all night. We feel like them slaves, in Rome, ‘bout to be thrown into the auditorium with the lions!”

Napoleon sighs deeply. Coliseum… not, auditorium…

But Teddy doesn’t disregard Al’s statement because of a small mistake, like any superior Napoleon new, would have. His face fills with concern and frustration. “Well, I’m very sorry you feel that way. I told them to… we had a meeting… “Teddy’s face looks positively stormy, for a few moments there, a stark difference from his earlier cheer. Al feels pride well in him, getting such a serious reaction. He thinks, maybe this guy, who’s clearly the leader of this motley bunch, will get some executions going now! That’ll be great! This place is about to get a real glow-up! -

… That is, until Al truly recognises the expression on the older mans face.

Its not murderous. He doesn’t even think he describe it as ‘pissed’.

More like… disappointed. Like a mother about her children.

Al sets himself back onto the heels of his feet as he had popped onto his tippy toes. Good god, what kind of Brady Bunch shit has he walked into?

Finally, Teddy sighs, kisses his lips and comes to a conclusion. “Well, we’ll fix that. Come along, men! We’ll introduce you to the group!” He starts walking off back down the hall the way he came, calling loudly to the Easter Island head that honestly creeps Ivan out a bit, to please call a meeting.

Napoleon, Ivan and Al look at each other for a moment.

… Follow? Or stay behind?

Or, more specifically, go force themselves out of their comfort zone and make acquaintanceships, or cage themselves in to a lonely rest of their time here and possible assassination?

Ivan turns, squares his shoulders and follows the ex-president first, followed by Napoleon with his nose in the air, and finally an uncertain Al. “Fine, but I aint trust none of ‘em.”

#Night At The Museum Fanfiction #Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian #Al Capone #Ivan The Terrible #Napoleon Boneparte #natm al capone #natm ivan the terrible #napoleon natm #Teddy Roosevelt natm #Larry Daley

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paper-stars-and-fireflies · 4 years

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Asking for a friend

The second story in the Grimm Omens series! As before, both main characters are OCs: Magnolia is mine, and Omen belongs to the wonderful @splanoot. Thanks for reading! “I’m tellin’ ya, you gotta go straight for the heart on those, don’t waste your time with the rest!” Maggie waved her arms, gesturing at some imaginary prey as she argued. Omen and Husk nodded back, Husk holding his bottom lip between his lip to keep himself from laughing. Magnolia was a friendly drunk, if a bit loud, and it’d be a long time since she’d let her walls down like this. For his part, Omen had the visor on his helmet cracked a little wider, his trademark jacket folded over the stool between them. Scars criss-crossed his forearms where the sleeves were pushed up to bunch at his elbows. He kept the gloves on, hands resting carefully around his glass. He shook his head, a silent laugh shaking the stress off his shoulders. It was a good night.

“You can’t get to the heart on those until you take care of the rest.” Omen pointed out, tilting his glass at her. Maggie smirked back, finishing her glass and setting it down with a loud clack. She leaned across the open seat between them, almost invading his space - as close as she ever got to him. “That’s what you think, mister. Hunters like me, we get all up close and personal. Besides,” She drew her words out, jabbing him playfully in the chest before leaning back to her own chair. “Don’t underestimate me just because I stick to blades.” She toyed with her snack, some mystery basket of finger food Niffty had dropped off earlier. Her other hand patted at the sheath on her left hip, one of the few she bothered with when she wasn’t on a hunt. She nodded toward his own holster. “Do you ever draw the wrong one? What’s special about it, the gun itself or the bullets or is it both?” Husk shook his head, refilling drinks, watching the two mercenaries argue back and forth in a language only they seemed to speak. Hell, if he didn’t know any better, he might think they’d known each other longer than a couple months. More than once he’d wondered if Omen had earned another fangirl. A thump to his left and the sound of hands hitting his bar drew his attention, along with both his regulars. Angel Dust lay face down on the counter, one set of arms wrapped around his head while another pair of hands clutched at the edge of the bar. Magnolia threw an arm over his hunched shoulders, cooing excitedly. “Angie! It’s been so long!” She said, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Angel just groaned, sitting back just enough to rub at his eyes. Husk got busy making him a virgin drink - he was still on restriction according to Charlie. “I don’t get it, Maggs.” He moaned, finally dropping his hands to his lap. She moved back, letting him sit up. The others ignored him, unamused with his antics. Maggie egged him on, moving to rub his back. “What’s wrong sweet pea?” She asked, pushing him her mysterious bar food. He eyed it before, disgusted, shoving it back. He accepted his drink, also scowling at it when he realized it was nothing but juice and soda. “Men, Maggs! Men are wrong. Well, one man.” He finally spat out, gesturing wildly. Maggie nodded sympathetically, sipping on her drink. Omen turned away some, subtly clicking his visor back down. Magnolia might flourish in social situations, but it was always somewhat awkward terrain for Omen, even with those he was closer with. He didn’t have any ill-will towards Angel, either, it was just… not his area of expertise. It was, however, Magnolia’s. Or least, it had been. “Oh honey,” she drawled, arms around him still, “Tell me about him and I’ll tell you how to break that motherfucker’s heart.” She bared her teeth in a smile that belied her true nature. Angel flinched back, no matter how many times he’d seen it. She dropped it quickly, biting her lip. Angel quirked a smile of his own that quickly faltered. “I don’t wanna break it, doll. I want to keep it.” He whined. He dropped his hands to the bar again, taking a slow sip of his drink for an excuse not to talk. “Oh. Ohhhh. Oh nooo.” Magnolia wailed theatrically, dragging her hands down her face and wiping at imaginary tears. “My baby Angel has all done grown up and found a man he wanna love.” Angel blushed, crossing both sets of arms and turning away from her. She chased him, giggling and smiling sincerely for once. “Look, I came down here for your help, but clearly I shouldn’ta crashed ya date. I’ll be going now.” He complained, standing up and pushing her off. Maggie lurched after him, latching on to his hand. “Don’t gooo, babe, I was just havin’ some fun. I’ll help you, I’ll help you. Look, I’m happy for you, that’s great news!” She said, pulling him back to sit beside her. He complied, one eyebrow raised. She nodded, kicking her feet in little circles, doing her best not to wiggle off the stool. Her best friend, in love! He reminded her of her brother half the time, she could only imagine the kind of man that’d caught his eye. “So tell me about him!” She prompted, when he didn’t start to speak. Angel eyed Husker and Omen. The latter turned away, suddenly fixated by watching the ice bobbing slowly in his glass, while the former shifted bottles around behind the counter, taking stock perhaps. Magnolia sat facing him, both hands perched on her knees, waiting. She shot a glare at Husker when she picked up on Angel’s agitation. “Do we need to head upstairs?” Maggie asked, sliding her empty cup back across the bar. “Or maybe you need a few songs to calm down? Step outside?” She gestured to her mouth, miming smoking, then snapped, letting a spark dance across her fingernails. “No way. He’s grounded, Magnolia. Hand ‘em over if you’re not gonna behave.” Husker jumped in, as much as he didn’t feel like it. If Charlie caught Angel misbehaving on his shift, he’d never hear the end of it. Magnolia huffed, reaching for her pocket, but Angel cut her off. “I, no, doll. It’s fine, I just.” He paused, took a deep breath, held it. Letting it out in a short, he picked through his mind, trying to describe the target of his frustrated affections without giving it away completely. He still had a reputation after all. “Look, you ever, I dunno, you meet a dude you’re into, like, really into, but it don’t make no sense?” He looked down at his hands, all four meshed together and fidgeting in a heap. Maggie laid both her hands over them, helping him still. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about ‘im. I’ve been flirting like crazy, but it’s like he don’t even notice! Me! Am I slippin’ or somethin, Maggs?” He shrugged, aware of how his reputation worked against him here. “I can’t get his attention, does whatever he wants. One of those tall, dark, handsome types momma warns you about, ya know? I don’t know what to do.” Magnolia clicked her tongue, nodding along. “I think types like us fall for types like that because our usual tricks don’t work. I need more to work with though. What have you tried? Or what are you after? What’s the issue exactly?” She asked carefully. Angel slumped a bit, still picking through his brain. “I tried out all kindsa personas and lines and nothin’ phases him. I can’t read him! Not at all! He don’t get rattled, no matter how filthy my mouth gets or what I wear or do. I offered to suck his dick flat out, and what does he say? ‘No!’, to me!” Angel dragged his hands down his face, grumbling. Husker and Omen had turned away completely, taking up the farthest corner of the bar to give them as much privacy as they could with the open floorplan. Angel lowered his voice, leaning closer to his friend. “Those eyes, and that smile. Maggs, I didn’t even know I was into suits!” Angel complained, taking a drag from his drink before sticking his tongue out. “Too sweet, Husk.” Angel called out louder, trying to cover his whispering, maybe, or dismiss the tension he’d created. Husk nodded as if he cared, refilling Omen’s drink without looking. Maggie held her chin, thumb tracing her lips, fingertips pressed into her cheek, studying Angel. Finally, she spoke, though it was barely a whisper. “Angie…. Are you… In love with..Al-?” Immediately Angel lunged at her, almost tackling her out of the chair, trying to cut off the demon’s name. She grabbed his wrists on reflex, springing to her feet and throwing him into a headlock. He coughed, reaching for her side with a free hand. “Easy tiger, save it for the bedroom.” he wheezed, and she dropped him, hands flying to her face in horror. She helped him back to his seat, apologizing profusely. “It was just instinct, I’m so sorry! I - I didn’t mean to!” she repeated, hands clasped in front of her. “Oh, Angie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think it was gonna be - Okay, okay.” She held out her left hand, green sparks fizzling along the back of her hand. She blinked and the same sparks lit in her eyes, hellfire come to witness. “I swear to keep your feelings a secret, until my extermination or the deal undone. Sound like a deal?” She tried to smile reassuringly, offering her hand to him. He shook, sighing. Green wrapped around her hand, gone in a blink. Both of them settled back in their seats, silence hanging awkwardly over them. It wasn’t the first time Maggie had made a deal with Angel, but she hated using them on her friends. Still, it was to protect them. “The deal’ll keep it safe, and he doesn’t send shadows after me when I’m not out on a contract. Your secret’s safe. I, um, bet I can help you out! You’re lucky I’ve been working for him for a while, though, or you’d be shit out of luck.” She continued on, trying to cheer Angel up, but Omen didn’t hear her anymore. He gestured to Husk, bowing his head slightly. Husk moved in close, disguising it by changing his drink for another. “She’s one of Alastor’s?” Omen asked under his breath, eyes trained on Maggie behind his visor. “Has been for a good few months now. Since a couple weeks before you met her, anyways. That boy she’s tryin’ to kill, he’s the real deal. She struck a deal with Alastor to even the playing field.” “Why.” Omen couldn’t keep his voice as flat as he’d have liked, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Husk could see through him. “She needed help. You saw how tore up she got. They probably have some kinda kinship or whatever, or same rulebook.” “Husker. What are you talking about.” Omen barked at him, anxiety spiking. Just when he thought everything was going to be peaceful for once. “She’s a crossroads demon, Omen, same as him. You saw the light show. Made a deal with the bastard.” Husk turned away, knowing he couldn’t say anymore. Omen lowered his head, nails digging into the countertop where he clenched his fists. He stood up abruptly, patting at his pockets. “Gonna go out for a minute,” he said, but only Husk was listening. Magnolia was too wrapped up in swapping stories and details about difficult love interests with Angel and moaning about the ones they’d missed out on for one reason or another. “Do you have any, not tryin’ to be rude here, doll, but any actual, helpful advice? Something for this, ah, particular case?” Angel asked, eyeing the door shutting behind Omen. He had a theory of his own. “Hmmm. Well….” Magnolia hesitated, glancing at the empty barstool behind her. “Those types of men are...very hard to work with sometimes, you know? Your normal tricks aren’t gonna work. Can’t come on strong, can’t come on too weak, or leave it all to them. Hmm.” She paused, running a hand through her hair. There was a flush in her cheeks that definitely wasn’t the alcohol. “Those types, you gotta be blunt and honest, but not so forward. Just kinda, friendly? But a litttttle bit more. You kinda gotta give them room to come out of their shell to you, not the other way around. Take it real, real slow. Make them as comfortable as you can, meetin’ them on their turf. Every now and then, it’s alright to give them a little push or nudge, let them know you’re into them or you want something, but you really gotta leave it up to them in the end. That...that make any sense?” She looked at the empty stool again, then the door, trying to find Omen’s silhouette behind the dark glass. “Uh-huh. Real helpful, doll. So! How long you been datin’ the big bad biker?” Angel shifted gears, leaning into her space. She sputtered, leaning away, face red. “We’re not dating at all! Just friends! We’re just both...regulars here! Right, Husk?” She looked to him with pleading eyes, but he just smiled, not bailing her out. “Uhh-huh. And you just so happened to be into a ‘tall, dark, handsome’ hunter guy that don’t let nobody close, and it’s not your drinkin’ buddy who just so happens to match up perfectly to everything you’ve hinted at for weeks? I ain’t buying it, doll.” “Angel! There’s nothing - I’m not!” She grabbed her drink to hide her embarrassment with a sip but was disappointed to find it was empty. Angel just laughed at her, grabbing at her basket of snacks. “You’re a crossroad demon! Just make a deal with him!” He managed through his laughter. She pouted, carefully tucking her hands away. “I don’t wanna go that route. Not with him.” She whispered, face turned down. “You’re breakin’ my heart, Maggs. I thought I was special!” He whined, arm thrown over his face. She huffed at him, staring at her hands. He softened, dropping his hand on her shoulder. “Tell you what, doll. You take your shot, and, after a little bit, I’ll take mine. How’szat for a deal?” He asked, offering a hand. She took it hesitantly, shaking just once. Another wash of green light snaked around her palm and she sighed, overdramatic as ever with them. “Alright,” she said finally. “Sounds like a deal. But -” She stole a glance at the door, and the figure beyond it. “Not tonight.”

#Grimm Omens #hazbin hotel original character #hazbin hotel oc #radiodust #it's in the background #but it's there

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sweetarthurmorgan · 5 years

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To New Beginnings (Reader x Arthur Morgan)

Hey so I have never written a one-shot on here before (Or about RDR 2 hahah.) So, I gave it shot! Hopefully you enjoy the story! Maybe I will write more if I am ever so confident!!

If you haven’t played the gameplay there are spoilers about Mary (Arthurs??? Ex??? Ex lover??? Yes??) So be weary of that!

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To New Beginnings By: @sweetarthurmorgan

Word Count: 2,227 words

Rating: PG (Just mentions of alcohol!)

“How could one drink change a night?”

spoilers

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You can't say you're surprised this time, you knew that he was going to cheat on you again. But maybe you didn't know that he was going to do it after you just finished making supper (not to mention his favorite meal), and as you were calling him to come down, you wondered what was taking him so long. Of course you were going to check on your husband. Was he sleeping? (Was he getting drunk in the bedroom again after you asked him not to for the millionth time.)

And of course you walked up the stairs, and of course you opened the door.

And of course you saw him lying in the bed with a woman.

So here you are, drinking once again in Valentine- hoping to find some answer in a bottle.

"I'll have another one, please." You said as you handed him the money.

"How about I get you something stronger, looks like you'll be here for a while. I'll be right back." The bartender said as he walked away for a moment, searching for something.

You groaned as you covered your eyes with your cold hands. They felt like ice against your burning eyes, filled with hot tears. The cold comforted the puffy bags under your eyes. But you felt too numb to even think about crying this time, but you still wanted to cry.

With everything that happened, you wanted to forget. Every memory with him that made you laugh, every moment where you smiled so widely. Even every moment you'd look yourself in the mirror and ever wonder if you were good enough for him. You just wanted to never be in your own skin, maybe he'd like you better that way.

As your thoughts were getting heavier, you heard a sound of footsteps approach next to you, the sound of their body getting comfortable into the chair that was right next to yours. You didn't respond only because it wasn't such an big deal to you that someone sat down next to you, it's not like you were much company right now anyway.

"Here you go ma'am, the strongest thing I have- if you weren't a white liner now, just wait." The bartender said as he poured you a shot glass, you removed your hands off of your eyes and picked it up. You didn't give much of a second thought and downed it quickly.

You felt the burn as it flowed through your body, you sucked in your breath quickly. Your head hanging low as you felt the rising sensation down your throat. It was strong alright, maybe too strong for your liking.

"I'll take one of those." the guy next to you stated.

You reached your hand out and slammed the table.

"Put his drinks on my tab." You stated as you sighed, continuing to drink what little left you had in your beer bottle. You're not sure why you'd offer to buy the strangers drinks, perhaps that was the alcohol speaking to you. Perhaps you felt bad as this person was probably about to hear you complain and cry very soon, considering how the whiskey was taking control of you so quickly.

"Thank you, Miss-"

"It doesn't matter." You said with a wave of your hand. The slight tingle of your lips were coming into play, the way the buzzing felt was comforting to you.

"You seem 'bout as bad as I do, if not a little worse." He said with humor in his voice.

You turned your head to make a rude comeback but you closed your mouth quickly, glancing your eyes up.

You see a large man beside of you, his eyes sparkled. It was like looking at a nice jewelry store and seeing the pretty gems shine against the glass. His lips. They were awfully inviting. The soft shade of pink reminded you of a field of flowers, something so soft- so sweet. He looked older than you, sure. But yet the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes were something charming, something you didn't expect to like. His face hid behind his hat, but you could still his smile and his blonde hair, regardless if it was matted or not. He was one beautiful man that smelled of gunsmoke and fresh soap. Maybe the alcohol amplified how he appeared in your eyes, but then again, maybe not.

You looked away as you realized you may have been staring at him for too long, it was hard for you not to look at him. Or your movements were beginning to go slower.

"I hope you're not as chewed up as me right now, that wouldn't be too kind." You responded with a sigh as you tapped your fingers on the table for another beer.

"Honestly ma'am, it probably would be the kindest." He said as he quickly took his shot, making a stiff face, looks like it was really strong after all.

"You ever broke a girls heart? You ever slept with another woman in her own house?"

He thought about that question for while, returning the question with a slight shake of his head.

"Then you don't deserve to feel as god awful as I do." You said as you took a large gulp, wiping your face of the beer that trickled your neck.

He looked at you with worry, connecting the dots. He took a quiet sip of his drink.

"That's why I'm here anyway, caught him cheating on me again, I kicked him out- and now I'm trying so hard to forget everything. Maybe more drinks would help." You said with a small laugh, shaking your head.

"A girl broke my heart once." He said as you looked over, you turned your head sideways.

"Oh really?" You said as he nodded, he replied as he took another sip of his beer.

"Well, tell me more about her." You said as he adverted his eyes to you, sighing.

"She was beautiful, so beautiful. She was kind and witty. And smart! Oh, she had a great head on her shoulders. And-" You weren't listening as he continued to talk about this woman, but you saw how his eyes were gleaming, and how his smile was wide when he was bringing back old memories. He truly loved this woman, and something about that made your heart soar. If only, your husband could have loved you in such a manner as this drunk stranger.

You got out of your thoughts as you focused onto him speaking.

"But she- well we, we had different paths. And we both crossed them at the wrong time. She wanted me to leave the life I had to be with her. And, for that to happen I would have to change everything about me. But, I couldn't. I c-can't be with her and continue to be me. We are in different worlds. Maybe- if I were to change. I could truly be with Mary." It was like you could feel his heart ache and shatter into pieces. How could someone hurt someone so badly, it affected their whole world today. Not like you had it any better. But hearing someone else's pain made it seems like yours wasn't the main problem.

"Is that why you are here?"

You both didn't say a word at that moment, you just sat in silence.

"I guess so." He broke the tension, his shoulders rising up.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said as you looked down slowly looking back over to him, seeing his eyes look so sad, a mixture of regret and despair almost. In a way, you pitied him.

"Well, that Mary woman is a real fool."

"How so?" He asked.

"W-Well, you see-" You said as you began to get tongue-tied, he just looked at you and waited for a response. Did he really seem all that interested?

"If she could only see how you talk about her like she's the finest gem in all of the world. She would feel really foolish right now. Asking you to change when you don't even want a single detail about her to be different."

For some reason, you had a feeling this Mary woman was in his life a long time ago- but he recalls it as it was a fresh wound. Maybe, he might not show it as natural as you can, he's hurting more than you have for the longest time.

"You know, if you don't feel like talking about Mary, I won't force you to." You said with confidence. You adjusted the way you were sitting as he nodded his head, making a huff as he looked over- giving back a small smile.

"Thank you." He said, taking a swig of his drink.

"Besides, I don't think marriage is a smart idea for me."

"I'll have to agree to that, sadly. Maybe I'm not the luckiest girl with love." You said with a small smile, a small bittersweet laugh escaped shortly after.

He continued to smile, shaking his head.

"But you know what? He is obviously empty headed from what you have told me, not like I can speak however."

You didn't say a word as you looked at him, he opened his lips and closed them before huffing quietly.

"I mean look at you, you're literally crying over a man you took care of and married- if he was dumb enough to not realize he had a good wife, than he's better off in Lemoyne hanging out with the alligators. And that's what you should be thinkin' bout." You could notice his words are getting more slurred, but what he said meant more to you than anything.

You smiled at him as he smiled back reassuringly.

"Y/N" you said to him, he cocked his eyebrow up.

"What?"

"My name is Y/N. You asked me what is was earlier and I didn't answer." You said as you took another gulp of your drink.

"You told me it didn't matter, so why does it now?" He questioned as you slightly blushed in his retort.

You just shrugged and looked away from him, it really didn't matter if he knew your name or not- but you thought he should at least know.

"Arthur." He said as you turned your head, making a small smile.

"Arthur? You don't look like an Arthur."

"That's kind of you to say." He said as you laughed, shaking your head.

"Well Arthur, let's drink!" You said excitingly as you tapped for the bartender to bring you more shots.

"What are we drinking for?"

You paused as you picked up your glass, thinking of a good toast.

"To new beginnings!"

Arthur smiled softly as he raised his glass.

"To new beginnings."

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

The sun glared brightly against your eyelids, you groaned quietly. Immediately raising your head up, using your hand to cover that aching sun.

As your eyes adjusted, you quickly noticed that...this wasn't your room, or it doesn't look like it at all.

You looked around as you noticed you were in some random hotel room. Four walls, a bathroom, drawers, and a mirror. Seems normal.

Looking down at yourself, you were wearing the clothes you wore last night. Good, it meant only that nothing happened. But, however you were still confused as to why you don't remember anything after meeting-

"Arthur." You whispered quietly, looking at the window. Where did he run off to? Where did he end up?

You moved your hair out of your face quickly as you let it free for a moment, getting yourself up from the bed.

You quickly got up as you noticed a note on the drawer next to the bed, picking it up you realized it was a note:

" Y/N,

You are such an awful drunk to take care of, and I thought I knew even worse drunkards than you."

You laughed as a smile was stuck onto your face, you felt like it wouldn't ever fade away.

"But, regardless. You are one beautiful lady that I had such an honor of meeting last night.

Thank you for listening to me being a fool and acting the part as well. I know that also might have been troublesome.

But as for you ma'am, you need to know that you are stronger than you think of yourself.

Don't let anyo̶n̶e̶ man, tell you otherwise. You are a strong woman- even if one fool couldn't see that.

I apologize for leaving you alone in a hotel room, really couldn't find out where you lived- you were far gone. I had no idea what you were saying."

A sigh and a roll of your eyes appeared as you knew that sounded very much like yourself, you gave that poor stranger so much trust. It worried you how off guard you can be when very drunk.

"Thank you miss, for the company last night. I never knew that talking to strangers could be what I needed to get my head on right.

By the way,

You should keep your hair down sometimes, it's really pretty.

And also, you're a great kisser too.

All the best,

Arthur."

"Oh, Arthur." A smile continued to play across your lips, completely turning red at that last part. If you ever so lucky to meet him again, you were going to ask him so many questions.

You took a deep breath as you held the note close to your heart.

"Thank you."

#arthur morgan #reader x arthur morgan #rdr #read dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 oneshot #oneshot #cowboys #yeefuckinghaw #Red Dead Redemption Spoilers #i guess #mentions of mary

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darling-clemmy · 5 years

Text

Convinced (ClemxLouis Fanfiction)

Summary: Clementine swings on a tire swing once again, and Louis realizes something much, much larger. Requested by Anon💛

Word Count: 1,250 words

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this quick thing I wrote up for an Anon. (To you—I hope this makes you proud!)

It was a day that would be described in sonnetts. It seemed that way as every minute had already been so perfectly placed and executed, like it’d come straight out of one’s mind. It took a moment for Louis to realize how lucky he was to be living in it—to be able to reach out and caress a dying, orange oak leaf, to be able to smell the charming stench of dead bodies and early morning autumn dew, to look just to his left and see his exceedingly beautiful girl, mouth twisted in concentration as she looked over the food plan.

Clementine clearly didn’t notice his staring, even as the minutes passed and their silence became increasingly noticeable. But it isn’t as if them not talking was awkward. In fact, much of their time, especially after the Delta, had been spent in the quiet. It was good for both the boy and the girl, to relax in the tranquility of non-chaos and to pleasantly smile at the other, skin crinkling beneathe their eyes.

The stillness was interrupted, though, when Aasim, Willy, and AJ all burst through the dormitory building’s door to the outside. The juvenile, messy hysterics of the two youngest were definitely annoying the older boy, who was scolding them to keep it down as it was still early. Once they met the stares of Louis and Clementine, the conversation halted.

“Oh, hey guys,” Aasim greeted, his scowl suddenly smoothing out on his face. “Sorry for all the noise. These two haven’t been able to shut it since they woke up.”

“It’s fine, I get it,” Clem responded in a sentimental tone. “I know how restless AJ can be.”

“Hey! I’m not restless!” The little boy rebutted.

Louis piped in, saying, “Consider it a good thing, little man. Soon enough you’ll be like our sweet, lovable Clem here, sleeping in until all hours of the afternoon.”

“I didn’t today!” She defended.

“That’s only because you had work to do,” Louis commented. “Speaking of which,” he turned back to Aasim. “I hope that’s what you’re going to do.”

“Yeah, figured we could always use some more food, especially with it getting colder and all.” He explained, barely finishing before Willy cut in.

“Don’t worry, Louis! We won’t disappoint you!”

Aasim and Willy started heading off toward the front gate with that, but AJ lingered behind, holding his stare on his closest parental figures.

“What is it, AJ?” Clementine asked, shifting her stump uncomfortably.

He smiled gingerly. “I was wondering if maybe you guys could push me on the swing once we get back?”

“You bet, little man.” Louis grinned widely, immediately sending AJ into a more comfortable state before he ran off after the other two boys.

Clementine watched him leave, a fond look settled in her golden eyes. Suddenly, wistfulness overcame it, and she solemnly looked down at the ground.

“Hey, you alright?” Louis asked, gently placing a pianist hand on her back, drawing small circles.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Just thinking.”

“You feel like sharing?”

Her eyes darted back up to meet his. A soft breeze passed, nudging strands of curls against her cheeks. “Seeing AJ so excited because of the tire swing just reminds me of when I was a kid and I swung in one.”

He blinked before an idea came to mind. “Why don’t you swing in it again?”

Clem’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at his words. “Louis, if you haven’t noticed, I’m a little...um, impaired?”

“Nonesense! I’ll push you!” He shouted and stood up to help her to her feet. He ignored her protests as he acted as a crutch over to the swing.

“Louis, I—“

“Please, Clem?” He pleaded, gripping her shoulders as tightly as he could without hurting her.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine!”

Louis chucked, pumping his fist temporarily before wiping off the tire of water and dirt.

Soon enough, they eased into a routine of Clementine swaying her leg(s?) brusquely against the wind as Louis pushed the rubber ring away, becoming descreasingly worried at the possibility of Clem falling. He grew so comfortable in her ability that he even drew away one hand and placed it on his hip, observing how she giggled with every swing and gasped everytime he touched her back.

“So, is this anything like your old tire swing?”

“Almost exactly.” Clementine responded though her voice wavering in and out of tone. “And, sorry to disappoint, but I really only had the swing for a day.”

“Why only a day?” Louis asked, genuinely curious. “What’d you do? Break it?”

The girl chuckled, “I don’t think an eight year old would be able to break a swing, Lou.”

“Hey, you never know. I can imagine child Clementine still being very muscular. You know, like a body-builder,” he explained, still not really making any actual sense.

“You’re such a weirdo,” she sighed. “When this all started, the group I was with stayed at this really big, gorgeous dairy farm owned by this family. I mean, later, we found out they were really awful people...” She started to trail off.

Louis stayed quiet, waiting to let her continue story-telling.

And she did. “Anyway, they were the ones who had the swing. My old friend, Duck, and I played on it all day, and Lee pushed me anytime he could. Just like you are now.”

The theatrical boy put aside his acting for a moment and allowed himself to not act. He just smiled, knowing that somehow he was on the same level of importance to her as Lee, the man who literally saved her life. Louis didn’t know if he would, or even could, live up to that name ever.

Still, his heart warmed at the thought. With his mind so lost in affection and flattery, he didn’t notice that he had stopped pushing overall, resulting in Clementine drastically slowing down.

She twisted the rope around, circling the tire, and looked up at him. “What’re you thinkin’ about?”

Louis’ palms grew sweaty because of her voice, bringing him back to the very first time he had heard her speak. God, how much everything had changed since then—the school, his friendships, them. Though it was only a few weeks ago, it seemed like years. Despite the short amount of time, Louis knew what his feelings were for the girl. And they were more hightened than ever before as he felt her slip her small hand into his.

“I’m convinced I’m in love with you.” He stated, simply and so quietly that it took her a moment to process what he said.

“What?” She questioned, laughing, though it sounded closer to a whimper.

“I’m in love with you, Clem. I know I am.” Louis insisted, kneeling down onto his knees to get to her level.

“Louis...” She paused as she looked between his face and his hands entwined with hers, set atop her thighs.

He shook his head. “You don’t have to say it back, I just know—“

Clementine silenced him by pressing her lips against his, as if taking the words directly out of him. He hummed in response, alarmed, and took a moment to close his eyes in comfort. For a little, the kiss became passionate, as she leaned in more roughly, moving a hand up to his jaw. Soon, though, it returned to its gentle nature—the way both of them liked kissing.

She pulled away first, flustered and sighing. “Of course I’m in love with you, you dork.”

#twdg #the walking dead game #louis #clementine #clem #clouis #louisentine #clemxlouis #fanfiction #fanfic #aj #aasim #willy #the final season

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osmw1 · 6 years

Text

Poison-Wielding Fugitive Chapter 25

“Well, you certainly got what it takes. You’ve really shown yer skills with that monstrous medicine ya made.” “Dear, perhaps Mr. Cohgray is better than you at your own trade.” “What d’you just say?”

Ah, jeez… Arleaf’s parents are glaring at each other again. Are they on bad terms with each other?

“Oh, no, not at all. I’m just all talk; I don’t have much practical experience.”

Actually, Veno was giving me step-by-step instructions. Let alone it being made well, it was riddled with clumsy little mistakes. I simply don’t have much experience doing this stuff. But at least being a Poison-Wielder, I have my Senses and Masteries to fill in some of the gaps in my experience. Not like I want to be a White Mage anyway, so I think I’m fine like this.

I was thinking maybe I should dabble some more poison creation. I’ve never needed potions or anything since I have my Poison Absorption. But from this point on, I might need to run away to places other than the swamp. In that case, poison creation might come in handy.

“I’m just a wandering adventurer… I’m not an apothecary.” “Hmm… should we discuss this some more today?” “Yes, Mr. Cohgray, do tell us what kind of positions you’ll be putting Arleaf through.” “Huh?”

Putting aside the matter that Arleaf is definitely going to work for me, what do you mean “positions”?

“Umm… I’ll pick the herbs, get her to make them into potions, and to sell them too?” “That ain’t what we’re talkin’ about.”

That’s not it either? I was told not to lay a hand on her either. What else can a man do to a girl?

“You are an adventurer, Mr. Cohgray, so we were wondering kind of role you would be putting her in.” “Oh, that’s what you’re talking about!” “While our Arleaf is undergoing Chemist training in order to be an apothecary, she has also been practicing magic as well. I’m sure she can be useful to you.” “But seein’ how you can use magic too and you’ve got yer homunculus to take the front, we were just wondering what you’re thinkin’ to do with Arleaf is all.”

Oh, what? Does Arleaf’s parents know lots about battles?

‘They have suffered from Bloodflower for so long and yet were able to survive it. Perhaps they may be quite powerful.’

Well, maybe before they established their own store, they travelled around peddling their medicines. It seems like they get Arleaf to do it too. Plus, she frequently travels to the hills and dungeons. It’s only natural if they know a thing or two.

“Arleaf was planning to head to the church to change jobs, y’know? She can return to her Chemist training after she’s done serving you.” “If she follows you around, Mr. Cohgray, I’m sure she will learn a lot. Think of it as a shortcut by postponing becoming a Chemist.”

Her parents are saying she should spec into another class but would Arleaf be okay with that? Let alone common knowledge, I don’t even know the family values of this world.

“No, no. If Arleaf wishes to be a Chemist, I think she’s fine as is.” “Whatcha talkin’ about? She’s got lots more hidden talents, y’know?”

Hey, whoa. What are you hiding from me again? Oh, I can smell Arleaf’s cooking. … smells good.

“Mu?!”

Simultaneously… Muu begins twitching. It staggers into the wall and… huddles in the corner, almost as if it’s trying to say, “I’m just a normal mushroom.” Muu looks as if it’s about to plant itself down and then his eyes turn white. What’s wrong, Muu?!

‘… Muu has fainted. What happened?’

Veno, too, seems puzzled by Muu’s behavior. I look back at Arleaf’s parents and almost had a heart attack. All of a sudden, they both have gas masks on, seemingly retrieved from thin air. So it’s not just Muu. You lot, too.

“Mr. Cohgray, you are proficient at making antidotes, yes? I’m afraid it is now or never.” “If not, then… here.”

They plop down a gas mask in front of me… what the hell’s happening?! What do I need this gas mask for?

“… dinner’s ready.”

With a slight sullen look on her face, Arleaf throws… a plate of her cooking down onto the dining table. I have no words.

‘How… how did she turn those ingredients into this? How unfathomable! Surely this has to be a work of magic.’

The colorful dish gives off the impression of being food. Somehow, the ingredients still wriggle around even after being prepared. What the hell is this? It feels like I’ve failed a sanity check, resulting in a physical manifestation of my nightmares.

??? of Mimosa Wild Boar Quality: Inexplicable ??? of wild boar that has been prepared in a unique method. Paired with a side of ??? salad, this is a well-balanced meal.

Hey, the text has corrupted. What the hell is ???, Veno? Not to mention, what does “inexplicable” quality mean? I mean, that’s pretty special on its own, but to call it mysterious? Still flabbergasted, I point at the substance that is presented as cooking. Arleaf’s father nods.

“This is why our daughter still isn’t married yet! When nobles ask her hand for marriage, they turn tail and run away. Even the men of the village back off.” “You’re cruel, Father.” “You’re right. We shouldn’t have forced our daughter’s shameful display upon Mr. Cohgray.” “But if we don’t say nothin’ about it, someone’s bound to get hurt. Cohgray’s saved our lives after all.”

Her father says awful things while having a great laugh. Umm, what’s going on?

“Now then, won’t you have a bite? Just as an aside, we’ve buried this stuff in our yard once and not a single livin’ thing has been growin’ since. From time to time, we plant this stuff by the roads every so often to kill off the weeds. We even hang it from each corner of the village to ward off evil.”

“Then can I eat this?” is what I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue. I mean, Arleaf made it herself and everything.

“If you throw it in the swamp, the toxins actually get stronger. And you know how Arleaf has that monster-repelling incense that she burns? Yeah, that’s just this stuff watered down.”

I don’t think that’s anything to be proud about. This is the source of that smell, eh? So that means Arleaf possesses the skills of dark culinary arts… Poison Cooking, if you will. With no more than the most ordinary of ingredients and preparation methods, she created this work of art.

No, this isn’t some light novel I read when I was still a student. This is a parallel world after all. It actually exists.

‘I am extremely curious about the principles behind this. I have never seen this phenomenon before.’

Veno seems to be brimming with excitement for this still-squirming plate of food. I am not. And Muu’s passed out just by the stench. I’m afraid if I breathe this stuff in for too long, the poison will get to me and I’ll fall unconscious too. Arleaf flings open the kitchen window for ventilation.

“Arleaf is cooking again!”

After some villager shouted that out loud, the town turned calm and quiet. Perhaps her cooking is infamous already. How horrifying.

“Umm…”

I look over at Arleaf. Whether it’s because she’s uncomfortable with the situation or that she’s embarrassed by it, she blushes and hangs her head downwards. I think she’s self-conscious about it. She doesn’t want to have anyone eat her cooking. More than that, she doesn’t seem like she even likes cooking in the first place. If this were a fictional story, the main character would be oblivious and force others to eat it. But since Arleaf’s aware and didn’t want to cook anyway, I should forgive her.

“Perhaps she should marry into a household where they have servants to do the cooking.”

I mean, she had aristocrats eyeing her. If they knew beforehand, they should’ve been okay. Plus, she knows how her cooking is.

“Surely, they would be suspicious of her, seeing how it is…”

Ohh, if anything does happen, they’d suspect Arleaf of poisoning people to death. It’s not as simple as it seems, I guess.

“Not to mention that the villages around here like a girl who can cook well. Arleaf has it rough, y’know?”

Even though she’s such a cutie and she’s got such an honest character, her one weak point is keeping her from marriage, huh? Men usually want to see how a girl’s domestic skills are, but now I understand why Arleaf’s father has done this. He’s basically saying, “If ya want my daughter, you’ll have to accept this part of her too.” You can see how happy he is, being a father that doesn’t want to give his daughter away.

“She’s great as a Chemist though… I wonder why her cooking is like this.” “So, if ya want to get all chummy with our daughter, you’d best eat up. If not, we’ll just treat you normally, like her employer.”

What, you’re still going to threaten me after all this? No wonder Arleaf and her mom’s been giving him the cold shoulder.

“Father, you’re going to give it away to Yukihisa? But I made this all for you.” “That’s right, dear. Arleaf worked so hard, just for you. Now, open wide.” “Y’all tryin’ to kill me?!”

He went so far as to say he’s being killed. What a terrible father.

“Don’t worry about it. Dig in.” “N-No way I’m touchin’ that! Last time, I was stuck in bed for a week!”

This sure is some powerful stuff. If a bite is a week, then all of it… and you keel over and die.

“Come now, Father! I have kept you waiting for too long.”

Arleaf stabs a mouthful with a metallic fork to feed it to her dad. Though it’s made of metal, it sizzles as if it were being burning hot. Is this a new form of torture?

“Guh… I won’t die here today!” “You’ve made your bed, now lie in it.” “You can leave the store to me, Father.”

A matter of life and death is unfolding right in front of my eyes. But… it smells really good. Why, I wonder. I mean, it might disgust them, but that sweet scent is quite alluring to me. It’s familiar. Kinda like a good curry, just the aroma is enough to be mouthwatering.

‘You may be affected by the poison already. Perhaps she added something to lure you to try it… how interesting.’ “Uhh… is it alright if I take a bite?”

I don’t know whether it’s curiosity of instincts, but something’s urging me to try it.

“Huh?”

Not believing what she has just heard, Arleaf’s mother doubtfully looks at me. Her husband, who was looking for a way out of this, suddenly looks very happy and laughs out loud. Something doesn’t feel right, and I think I can take back what I just said, but my desire to try Arleaf’s cooking doesn’t go away. Oh, I know why. It’s definitely Poison Absorption that’s giving me this urge.

“Umm…”

I ignore their confused looks and go for it with my fork. I take a bite of what seems to be a wriggling piece of meat.

“Ah?!”

Arleaf and her family, frozen in place, watch me chew my food. Gah… the meat is moving in my mouth! It’s even coiling around my tongue with all its might and I can taste all of it. I’m not sure if it’s the meat disgusting by itself or how it was cooked, but I try to swallow it all. Perhaps this might be parasitic too, like Bloodflower Part 2.

And now for the critical review. It is not food for the living. It rejects all five of the known basic tastes—sweetness, sourness, saltiness, bitterness, and savoriness. It’s not about how bad it is. It tastes like death. However, what I would call a taste of toxicity—and this may be unique to me—it completely overwhelms me in that regards.

The meat secrets a thick toxic flavor which surpasses all perfectly marbled meats. It dances on my palate, triggering my taste buds as it courses through my mouth, and it develops all sorts of flavors. It tastes like a beef-pork-chicken hybrid. Somewhat like tenderloin, somewhat like dark meat, and somewhat like liver… it’s an unending and ever-changing curious harmony of flavors. … why am I describing this like as if I were in some sort of food manga?

‘Hmm, is it really that delicious? I can sense what thou art sensi—hurk!’

Veno remains silent and I hear nothing else from him. I hear some sort of bubbling noise though. Veno? What’s wrong?

‘…’

Veno, you alright?! As much as I care for him, I care more for the food in front of me and continue gobbling down. My hand is moving on its own.

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /ch017/ /ch018/ /ch019/ /ch020/ /ch021/ /ch022/ /ch023/ /ch024/ /ch025/ /next/ (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread on Novel Updates) (please support me on Patreon or Paypal)

#Poison-Wielding Fugitive #PWF #Average Translations #AvgTL #osm #毒使いの逃亡者 #一般の英訳 #アネコユサギ #aneko yusagi #ln #light novels #ライトノベル

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thelastspeecher · 6 years

Note

Hi, if it's still open 6. "Congratulations! One of your dreams has finally come true. Let me give you a big hug and wow, you're warm..." for reverse portal Stanley McGucket. I feel there's a lot of potential there.

6. Congratulations! One of your dreams has finally come true. Let me give you a big hug and wow, you’re warm…

So, I took this prompt and turned it platonic, because platonic love is important and also I was struggling to think of a romantic way to use this prompt for this AU. Here, have some Stan bonding with his son, Emmett. It was really fun to write Emmett; I haven’t gotten to know him very well yet. I feel like I know him better now.

Send me a ship and a number and I’ll write a ficlet!

The school door opened and afamiliar boy with a mop of brown hair stepped outside. Stan immediately turned off the radio.

Too much noise upsets him. Stan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as Emmettapproached. Relax, Stan. He’s your own damnkid. He swallowed. Yourown damn kid that won��t call you “Dad”. And he’s scared of you, too. Emmett pulled on the backdoor handle.

“Shit,” Stan muttered. He unlocked the doors. Emmett slid into the backseat. “Hey, uh, you can sit up front if ya want,”Stan said, forcing an optimistic tone into his voice. “Y’know, next to your old man.”

“No thank you,” Emmettmumbled. “I thought Ma would pick meup.”

“She had to do some research, soI came instead.”

I hope he’s not as good at sniffin’ out lies as Danny. That girl can smell a con a mile away. Stan looked at Emmett’s reflection in therearview mirror. Well, Angie told me to lie and say she couldn’t make it, so he shouldbuy it. Right?

“Oh, okay,” Emmett said quietly.

“Buckle up.”

“Yep.” Once Stan heard the seatbelt click, he pulled away from the school.

“So, sport, how’d ya wing ahalf-day? Force yourself to puke? I did that a few times when I was your age.”

“No.”

“What happened?” Stanprobed. Emmett sighed.

“My readin’ lesson didn’t gowell, so my teacher thought I should just go home. She says I get ‘disruptive’ when I don’tfocus, and ‘cause my lessons weren’t good today, I was too upset to focus.”

“Disruptive, huh? I remember bein’ told that.”

“‘S not the same, but whatever,”Emmett muttered. Stan took a steadyingbreath.

You can turn this around. Askhim more things. Get to know him.

“…‘Reading lessons’?” Staninquired.

“Ma knows the technical term, butthat’s what I call ‘em,” Emmett said. “It’sto help me with my dyslexia. Sometimesit works, sometimes it doesn’t.” Hestared out the window.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“No, Emmett, it is,” Stan saidfirmly. Emmett looked at him.

“Huh?”

“I guess your ma didn’t tell ya,but I have dyslexia. You and Danny gotit from me.”

“…Oh.” Emmett picked at his shirt nervously. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well…” Stan trailed off. He cleared his throat. “You got those glasses when you were eight,right?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s when I got mine.”

“Ma has bad eyesight, too.”

“Not as bad as you and me.”

“Oh.” Emmett suddenly grimaced. “Ma didn’t have to send you, did she?”

“What are ya talkin’ about?”

“I- I know I’m really nervous,but I’m not stupid. Ma keeps tryin’ toforce us to bond. And you do it, too.”

“Fine. Ya caught me.” Stan sighed. Look, kid, you’re my son. I justwanna get to know you. Almost everythingI know about you is stuff your ma told me.” Emmett looked out the window again.

The rest of the ride passed insilence. At the house, Stan pulled intothe driveway and turned off the car. Before he could open the door, Emmett spoke.

“You weren’t there.” Stan’s hand fell away from the handle. “When Danny and I got glasses, when we foundout Emily was colorblind, when Ma’s nightmares were so bad she stopped sleeping,we were on our own. You don’t knowanything about me ‘cause you weren’t there.” Stan looked in the backseat. Emmett immediately turned his gaze to the window, trying to hide tearstrickling from his brown eyes.

My eyes.

“Emmett, I’d give anything tohave been there,” Stan said in a low voice. Emmett shook his head. “Everyday, every minute I was gone, I thought about you, and your sisters, and yourma. I don’t think I regret anything morethan missing your birth. But I- you knowthe story.”

“You got trapped in anotherdimension ‘cause of Uncle Ford’s machine.”

“Yeah.”

“How dumb do you think I am? I don’t buy it! I never have!” Emmett shouted. Stan immediately turned around in his seat toface his son. Emmett’s face was coveredin tears. His eyes were wide in a waythat reminded Stan of comforting Ford when they were children. Despair with a streak of righteous anger. “That- that sci-fi stuff never- never- itdoesn’t check out!”

“You know what your uncleresearches, right?” Stan said, feigning calm. “All that weird, scary stuff in the woods.” Emmett nodded. “Why is the machine so hard to believe? We even showed it to ya.”

“Because- because-” A sob ripped itself from Emmett’s throat. “I needed a dad.” Stan’s heart plummeted. “I had Ma and I had my uncles, yeah, but Ineeded you, too. I’m- I’m a lot likeUncle Fidds, I get nervous and scared, and I needed my dad to protect me. Ma- Ma told us stories about you, and you-you sounded great. You punch things, andyou’re big and strong, and- and you don’t like science.”

“I mean-”

“I’m the only one that doesn’tlike science,” Emmett said. Stan blinked. “Yeah, a- another thing ya didn’t know. When I was- when I was feelin’ alone and leftout, Ma told me that if you were around, I- I wouldn’t be as much of a blacksheep. Ma tried really hard, but it wasn’tenough.” Emmett shook his head. “That’s- that’s not fair, but it’s true. She couldn’t do it all on her own. And I- I wasn’t the only one that needed you. We all did.” Emmett brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly. Stan bit his lip.

Treadlightly, Stan.

“Did anyone ever tell you aboutyour grandfather?”

“I know ‘bout Grampie Gucket.”

“No. Your other one. My dad.”

“N-no.”

“That’s prob’ly for thebest. Even before the accident, I hadn’tseen him in years. He’s on the otherside of the country, and that’s still too close for my taste. He was…he was an awful dad. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it, I’m not gonnalie. He shoulda gone to jail for the wayhe treated me and your Uncle Ford. Your UncleShermie didn’t have to deal with too much of it, but even he’s got some scars.” Emmett stared at Stan, eyes as big assaucers. “When I was a teen, I startedthinkin’ about bein’ a dad someday. Iknew some nice girls that I wouldn’t have minded settlin’ down with, and, Idunno, fatherhood appealed to me. But Ialways told myself that I wouldn’t be a dad like mine. There’s- sometimes, people with bad parentsend up bein’ bad parents too, and I didn’t want that.

“I keep pushin’ this thing ‘causeI wanna be a good dad, and I’m worried I’m not. You act scared of me all the time, like how I was scared of my dad. I don’t want that.” Stan sighed. “And- and about the not being here stuff, yeah. I wasn’t here. But I am now. You’ve got a dad, even if you don’t call me that.”

“You’ve been doing a good job,”Emmett said softly. “I’m not scared ofya anymore.”

“Wait, really?” Stan asked. Emmett shook his head. “You’re pretty good at keepin’ this stuffunder wraps.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s not a good thing, kid.” Stan cracked a half-smile at Emmett. “It is a Pines thing, though. You’re a Pines man, I shoulda expected you tohave an allergy to talkin’ about feelings.”

“Uncle Ford gets yelled at aboutthat a lot.”

“So have I. Makes sense. After all, the Pines man method of keepin’ it a secret until it explodesdoesn’t usually end well.” Stan lockedeyes with Emmett. “All right, how aboutyou and I make a deal?”

“What kinda deal?”

“I’ll stick around for the restof your life.” A cautious grin eked itsway onto Emmett’s face. “And I meanit. You won’t get rid of me. I’ll be everywhere. You’ll get sick of me.”

“No.”

“Just wait. Anyways, I’ll stick around, and you have tofight those Pines man instincts, and do what your ma’s family does: talk aboutthings.” Emmett grimaced. “Yeah, I don’t like it, either. But you gotta communicate, Emmett. Your ma doesn’t know your feelings about menot bein’ around, and I didn’t, either. Letus know what’s goin’ on. You can talk tome, or your ma, or even one of your uncles. Just keep us in the loop, okay?”

“I dunno how I’m getting anythingout of this,” Emmett said slowly. “You’dstick around even if I didn’t open up or whatever.”

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Stanconceded. “How about…you talk about yourfeelings, and things that are going on, and I’ll stop the attempts atbonding. Let us do things morenaturally.”

“You hate the bonding stuff, too.”

“Yeah, but I can fight throughthe hate, if you stop talkin’ to us.”

“Deal.”

“Great. Now step outside, and we can shake on it,like men.” Emmett nodded. He and Stan got out of the car. Stan held out his hand. Emmett pushed Stan’s hand to the side andinstead wrapped his arms around Stan’s torso. Stan’s heart stopped. “Th- that’snot a handshake,” Stan managed.

“I know. It’s a hug. It’s better,” Emmett said. Stanembraced his son back. “You’re reallywarm.”

“Yeah, it, uh, it’s why your maand I get along so well. She’s chillyand I’m warm. We balance each other out,y’know.” Emmett wriggled out of the hug. “All right, sport, you better go in. Your ma’s gotta be wondering where you are,and she probably has a snack ready for you.”

“Are- are you crying?”

“What? Pfft, no. Just got somethin’ in my eye is all,” Stan mumbled, rubbing hiseyes. Emmett grinned crookedly at him.

“Uncle Ford uses that excuse,too.”

#emmett may look like a mcgucket but he's got a lotta pines in him #he doesn't necessarily look like stan's son but boy howdy does he act like it #reverse portal stanley mcgucket au #stanley mcgucket au #emmett mcgucket #stanley pines #ficlet #my writing #writing meme #ask #anonymous #Stangie Family

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izhunny · 6 years

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dissonance

i hate that my brain doesn’t work right. i am not sure i was ever what could be considered normal but i had this handy coping mechanism called denial. it was both horrible and wonderful. i have been depressed since before i knew what to call it. i used to daydream for as long as i could get away with it. i used to have elaborate fantasies of how life could be different, if only i were free of my family and the town we lived in and maybe no one knew who my family was. i really wanted to run away with the carnival even though it looked awful. i imagined such bizarre and vivid things only to be told time and again when i shared what i was “thinking about” that i was stupid for thinking the things i did. i wished and dreamed and was shut down every single time, loudly, until i simply quit sharing my thoughts. no one wanted to hear my daydreams, my flights of fancy, my nightmares, my hopes, my desires, my fears, my needs, my mythologies. until even i stopped listening to myself. because how does a child earn affection if she’s nothing but a disappointment in action, in thought, in appearance, in existence?

i hate that i listened to them. i let myself be convinced that i had no talent at all worth exploring. it’s tough when all that you are to anyone is a burden to be borne, an ugly duckling who won’t ever be revealed a swan, and lacking any talent or skill considered worthwhile. i listened to them because they were the only voices i ever heard, except in the daydreams. and i quit listening to myself because the daydreams were kind and interesting, and life, well, it was most assuredly not.

do you know how you develop a skill? you learn about it and practice it. not all skills can be learned. and not everyone will be good at any given skills they may try to learn. and some will have certain skills come as naturally as breathing to them. but isn’t the point of being a child to try out everything you are able and see where your ability lies? me? i was good with words, the english language anyway, daydreams, and reading certain human complexity before most other children my age could write their own name. i was told to quit being smart for my abilities. a child shouldn’t correct an adult, they repeat endlessly. apparently, especially, when the adults are most definitely in the wrong. children shouldn’t think those sorts of thoughts. how could a child possibly understand something an adult couldn’t even put words around the concept i’d espoused? i think it disturbed them, how i thought and could explain things they couldn’t quite grasp. but they didn’t say that. they said i should stop. why would anyone drown out on a child’s creativity and intelligence?

i used to know that i was good with words, a long, long time ago. i have never thought of myself a storyteller but my heart longed to be confident enough to share the ideas that once leapt to life before my unfocused eyes in such vivid detail. but who would want to hear the most common reoccurring theme? about a normal, happy life where love is shared, encouraged, and there are hugs for everyone, where no one yells at you for making toast or if you get scared because you awake alone? i just wanted my abilities to mean more than that i could always finish that pesky crossword a grown up couldn’t. or earn the irritation of everyone getting their asses handed to them by a child at trivial pursuit in nearly every category except history because i hadn’t yet read any of those textbooks.

why can’t i talk about how neat it would be if the dragons, the maidens, and funny little invisible imps got together and decided it would be great to teach the sorcerers a lesson in humility, or if perseus just had a little more sense he could reverse the curse on medusa and they’d have awesome kids who would eat zeus, cause he’s a bastard of the worst sort, and where’s a dryad when you really need one -- how am i supposed to get back down out of this tree?

my heart hurts from not thinking what i should have let myself think... i trusted the wrong people, but they were the only ones there. do you have any idea how ashamed i am for not being myself because no one wanted me to be me in any capacity and now i have no idea who i even am and i never made those bastards happy for all my efforts? everything is so loud. their echoes. and mine. i used to daydream. i used to dream. now there is only noise where once there was a melody, if never harmony.

#personal #dissonance #i used to daydream #my writing

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face-turn · 7 years

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All I Do Is Drive

Pairing: Sami Zayn/Dean Ambrose Words: 3.1k Rating: G A/N: i have.. no explanation. take this from my hands. for context, this was written after smackdown on 8/29. thank u @breadclubrising for ur encouragement Tags: I.. guess let me know if you want to be tagged in Sambrose content in the future

Sami’s stretching after his match. One leg, then the other. Don’t think about Kevin’s hands. Lean all the way over his feet, nose to knees, until he feels the achy burn in his hamstrings. Stop thinking about Kevin lifting him, throwing him.

“Hey, Zayn.”

Sami blinks and nearly topples, stumbling a couple of steps forward before hands catch the back of his leggings and rebalance him. The hands are familiar, the voice-- Sami always forgets, somehow, that Dean doesn’t have the Southern drawl that seems like it would suit him. He’s Cincinnati through-and-through, that not-an-accent accent that softens his vowels and makes him mispronounce ‘syrup’.

“Dean,” Sami says, sounding about half as baffled as he feels, which is pretty baffled. They’re not-- friends, is the thing. Up until right now, Sami had no reason to believe that Dean even remembered his name. The last time they’d spoken was-- what, a year ago? “Good match earlier. You looked, uh. Good. In your match.”

Dean chomps his gum, blowing a fragile chewing-gum bubble that pops immediately. Sami can smell the mint.

“Thanks, thanks. Hey, d’you wanna go out later?” He says it like Sami hasn’t just finished being the most awkward person on the planet. It’s something that Sami has always appreciated about Dean. His willingness to overlook just about anything. He might just be unobservant, but Sami’s always been willing to give the benefit of the doubt. Again and again and again. Stupid.

Sami is startled enough by the question, anyway, to pause. He actually glances around to make sure Kevin or someone isn’t peeking around a corner, Scooby-Doo style. He trusts Dean, as far as anyone can trust someone who’s teaming with someone who’s punched you in the face before, but-- well. He’s teaming with someone who’s punched Sami in the face before.

“Oh, I-- I can’t, I don’t drink.” That’s all anyone does when they go out later. Someday, someone’s going to ask Sami if he wants to go out later, and they’ll mean... feeding ducks, or going ice skating, or--

“Naw, I was thinkin’, like. Going for a walk maybe? There’s a haunted hotel and I bet I can see a fuckin’ ghost.”

Sami squints at him, then considers his plans for the evening, which had mostly been made up of slouching around eating store-bought hummus and carrot chips.

“Yeah, okay. Do you have a car, because I was riding with, uh--” Sami studiously avoids Dean’s eyes, which have widened with surprise for a moment. Do people not usually go with him to-- haunted houses, or whatever? Dean has friends, right? “Yeah, yeah, I got it. You know me, big star. Sharing rides is for scrubs.” Dean snaps his gum and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m parked in the further lots. Want me to swing around and pick you up?”

Sami considers his things in his bag at his feet, the ring gear currently sticking to his thighs. “If you’ll wait five minutes, I’ll walk with you?” He doesn’t mean to phrase it as a question. It just comes out that way.

“Go shower, Zayn,” Dean taps his bare wrist. “You’re on the clock now, brother. Get.”

Sami gets. The shower is barely lukewarm and the water pressure is pretty much what you’d expect, but it’s still nice to get out of sweaty gear and into sweatpants and a soft hoodie. It’s not weird to wear your own merch out of the ring, right? Right.

Sami wishes, foolishly, for a second, that he had something nicer to change into, but-- it’s not a date. And even if it were, Sami knows, Dean wouldn’t care. That’s another thing that Sami’s always liked about Dean. Kevin had always had something to say about what Sami was wearing, but Dean-- Sami’s pretty sure that he could wear a trash bag to hang out with him and Dean would just accept that. He wonders if Dean even owns a suit.

He loses a few seconds contemplating that image, halfway through tying the drawstring on his sweatpants tighter. Dean has to have a suit, right? He went to the hall of fame-- thing. Sami resolves to google it.

He ducks out of the locker room, expecting to sort of have to hunt Dean down. He doesn’t know if Dean’s actually the type to wander away when he gets bored, but Kevin always had and sometimes Sami had been left behind as a result. But no, there he is, leaning up against the wall, wearing jeans that really just highlight how narrow his waist is. Sami wonders if he sleeps in jeans, or what. He can’t imagine doing that-- but then again, he can’t imagine wanting to wrestle in jeans, either, but Dean is really good at that.

“Sami Zayn!” Dean says, like they’re just running into each other and he hasn’t been waiting.

“Hi,” Sami says, flustered. “Did I beat the clock?”

“Oh, I dunno-- man, I don’t have a watch.”

Sami can’t help but laugh, even though he’s not completely sure that Dean’s telling a joke. Dean’s mouth quirks up, though, so at the very least he’s not offended by Sami laughing in his face.

“You ready to rumble, big--Zayn? Big Zayn?” Sami takes the stumble in stride. Dean’s not the only one who can ignore awkward conversational tics.

“Sure am. How far away is this hotel?” “Oh,” Dean says, looking a little shifty. “You know.”

Sami obviously doesn’t know, but he lets it slide. He’d go even if it were four hours away. He can let Dean keep secrets.

“Okay,” He says when Dean doesn’t stop eyeing him expectantly. “I don’t care.”

“Cool,” Dean bobs on his heels. Back and forth. “Cool cool. Car’s this way, lemme just--” He shoulders Sami’s bag, even though Sami could absolutely carry his own bag. Just because he’s been losing a lot doesn’t mean he’s incapable.

It’s-- kind of nice, though. Thoughtful. Sami can’t remember the last person to carry his bag for him when he wasn’t even injured. Finn, maybe? Not Kevin. He wishes he could stop thinking about Kevin. Sami doesn’t want to give Kevin the satisfaction of keeping him in mind, but-- well. Sami can’t help it. At least Kevin never has to know.

Sami half expects the walk to the car to be uncomfortably silent. They don’t have that much in common, as far as he knows, and Dean doesn’t really seem like a small talk kind of guy. What he doesn’t count on, though, is Dean being so excited about everything.

“D’you think that we’ll see a ghost, or just hear one? Or maybe some, like-- ghost noises. Like footsteps.” Sami, who isn’t necessarily a believer in ghosts, ponders this. “I think-- if you hear them, I think they’ll be racist?”

Dean actually stops walking for a second. “-- Yeah?” He sounds cautiously interested.

“There were lynchings here,” Sami nods, turning to walk backwards so he can keep talking without feeling rude. “Not even a hundred years ago. And I’d like to think that, uh. The people who get lynched get to go to heaven, or whatever they believe in. So they wouldn’t be ghosts?”

As soon as he’s done saying it, Sami feels silly for thinking through the logic of it, but Dean’s nodding and walking again, lengthening his strides to catch up.

“Good call,” He says slowly, shrugging Sami’s bag up higher. “Next question-- you think I can wrestle a ghost?”

As soon as they get into the car, Dean pops in a CD while studiously not looking at Sami out of the corner of his eye. It’s fine-- not really Sami’s thing, some kind of slowish countryish Johnny Cash situation, but he knows from personal experience that the tension down Dean’s spine is an anxious desire for approval. He bops along like he would to his music, and Dean’s shoulders relax. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a crooked little grin and his fingers tap on the steering wheel as they peel out.

It’s worth the white lie.

Dean’s a fun road trip partner, even when the road trip isn’t especially long. He’s willing to sit in silence when the conversation dies naturally, but he’s also a crack-shot at eye-spy and an amusingly sore loser of never-have-I-ever.

“You can’t tell me you’ve really never--” “Dean, I absolutely promise that I’ve really never--” “No, everyone’s tried that!” “No! Not everyone has tried to ride a horse naked. I don’t-- I don’t think anyone’s tried that!”

Sami’s face hurts with how hard he’s been smiling. Dean keeps sneaking smug little glances at him, which just makes Sami smile harder.

‘Hey, Zayn,” Dean says, all faux-casual in a way that makes Sami laugh. An actor Dean is not.

“Hey, Dean.”

“Truth or dare?” Dean’s eyes are glued to the road, even though they haven’t seen another car in probably ten minutes.

“Truth. I don’t want to know what kind of dares you can come up with in a moving car.” Sami takes the change of game in stride. Dean laughs low, tongue sticking out just a little bit. “I know you’re no coward, Zayn, so I’m gonna let that one slide. D’you believe in love at first sight?” Sami lets his head bonk back against the headrest. “Yeah,” He says, more slowly than he once might have. His voice sticks in his throat. “But I think-- love like that isn’t forever, you know? You need a foundation.” Dean’s looking at him, and Sami can feel heat creeping up into his cheeks when he turns his face away.

Dean’s voice is quiet when he says, “Yeah. You got a real good head on your shoulders, Sami Zayn.”

When they get to the hotel, Sami’s half-asleep in his seat. He feels a little bit like Dean has been stealing his energy, because Dean is hype as fuck. He’s nearly bouncing as he unbuckles his seatbelt, darting thrilled glances over at Sami.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” He-- he doesn’t chirp it, quite, but only because he has a deep voice that doesn’t permit for things like that.

Sami grumbles, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand and stretching out his back. He hides a yawn in the bend of his elbow, and when he looks up Dean is smiling at him. Fondly? Is that what fondness looks like on Dean’s face?

“I think I’m too sleepy to fight a ghost,” Sami says, unbuckling and getting out. The grass is wet with after-midnight dew.

“I’ll protect your honor,” Dean says mildly, bouncing up and down. He’s still holding Sami’s bag. “I won’t even let a ghost possess you.” “Oh, wow. Thanks, Dean.” Sami puts one hand over his chest, faux-swooning. “You won’t even let me get my body snatched. Golly!” “Can it, battery man. I’m doing you a favor here.”

They walk in together, jostling elbows and shoulders in a friendly competitive way. The woman working the counter looks professionally bored. Sami’s sure she’d seen much stranger. He wonders if she’s ever seen a ghost, or just lots of drunk people. He’s not going to ask.

“Evening ma’am,” Dean says, propping his elbow on the counter and fishing around for his wallet. “I’d like one of your most haunted rooms, please.” The woman looks politely amused. Maybe like she’s glad to break up the monotony of the evening. “You don’t have a reservation? Let me see what I have free for you.”

“Haunting is not guaranteed,” Sami reads off of a sign propped on the desk. “Dean, if we don’t see a ghost, it’s not the hotel’s fault.” “It’s the racist ghost’s fault,” Dean confirms, sliding his card and I.D. across the counter when the clerk gestures for it. “Not relevant, though. We’re gonna see a ghost.”

Sami wanders a little ways a way to give Dean privacy when he and the clerk start talking about money. There’s brochures all over the place, each loudly trumpeting a road trip destination in Arkansas. Sami’s never bothered to do all the road trip stuff before-- getting to wrestle most days is its own reward. It feels weird to get greedy with his entertainment. Dean seems to like it, though. And he’d been surprised when Sami had been willing to go with him to this hotel. He doesn’t know if Dean wants to ride with him again, or if he’s going to start riding with Seth Rollins, or something. It’s okay, Sami decides, if Dean wants to take the brochures and go do stuff with Seth. They’re probably actually friends. Sami picks out a few and clutches them to his side.

“I have bad news,” Dean says when Sami sidles up. The desk clerk has gone back to ignoring them both. “Is there only one bed? I can sleep on the floor, I don’t mind, it’s fine. I can give you money for the room, also. Sorry.”

Dean blinks at him. “No? No. None of that. We only got the third most haunted room, so I’m gonna need you to look really appealing to ghosts.” “Oh,” Sami says. How is he supposed to look appealing to ghosts? “Uh, okay. I’ll work on that, I guess.” “See, the problem is that you’re too attractive to the living right now,” Dean tells him very seriously. He guides Sami over to the stairs with a hand low on his back. Sami gets a weird quiver in his stomach. “You’re gonna have to seduce the dead.” Sami makes a face. “I don’t want to seduce a racist.” He declines. “That can be your job.” “No, I’m the ghost hunter. You’re the bait. Maybe it’s a perfectly nice lady ghost who died in the hotel.” He peeks at Sami out of the corner of his eye. “Gentleman?” “Either,” Sami says absently, then very determinedly stares straight ahead while he goes cold all down his spine.

“Cool. Cool cool. Equal opportunity ghost bait.” Dean says, looking very relieved. He is taking this ghost hunting thing very seriously, Sami thinks.

Sami, still flushing a little with embarrassment and trying not to hunch his shoulders uncomfortably just bobs a nod. The hotel is loud in the way that all old buildings are, all sorts of creaking and popping and rattling. When he sneaks a look at Dean, Dean’s looking enthralled and delighted.

Sami just feels a little creeped out.

“This is us,” Dean says when they reach the third landing, bumping the door open with his shoulder. “The most haunted floor.”

“Dean, did you ask her to rank the floors and rooms in terms of hauntedness?” Dean’s face says that he absolutely did do that. He avoids Sami’s gaze like a guilty dog and doesn’t answer, just pulls out an old-fashioned door key and starts counting doors down the hall.

“Five, six, sev-- here we go.” He hitches Sami’s bag up higher and opens the door. It’s a little sticky, and the little hesitation makes Sami hold his breath. You don’t even believe in ghosts, he reminds himself. He feels like he can feel someone watching him.

The door swings open on well-oiled hinges and Dean hits the light, setting down Sami’s bag and dropping his next to it. There are two beds. It’s a pretty nice room, truthfully. Much nicer than the ones Sami used to stay in when he was in the indies. He’s pretty sure Dean is thinking the same thing. Maybe not. Kevin likes to pretend he never even had a career in the indies. Maybe Sami’s the weird one. “Does it feel haunted in here to you?” Dean asks critically, breaking Sami’s train of thought.

“Yes,” Sami says immediately, because he still feels weirdly prickly all over. Also, he doesn’t want Dean to try and change rooms. He’s already taking his shoes off. “Super haunted.”

Dean starts picking the laces of his shoes, staring around dubiously. “D’you think if I ask for a ghost, one will come out?” “Probably not,” Sami says, flopping onto the bed closer to the door and snuggling deeper into his hoodie. “You should have brought a list of questions to ask it, or something.”

Dean contemplates this, kicking off his shoes and wiggling out of his jeans. Sami tries not to look, because it’s definitely a weird invasion of privacy to stare at your coworker’s legs, but Dean has really good thighs and nice-to-look-at knees and he’s only human, okay? He looks away before Dean can catch him.

Dean sits on the bed that Sami’s chosen, flopping backwards across Sami’s legs and stretching his arms up. Sami guesses that they’re friends? This is definitely friendly. “Hey, man. I know this is kind of an imposition, but, uh. Thanks for coming. Pro’lly wouldn’t have come without you.”

Sami’s stomach flips. “Dean, can I--” His sentence peters out when Dean actually meets his eyes. “--Uh.” “You can ‘uh’ whenever you want, brother,” Dean says serenely. His head is cocked like a big puppy. Maybe he’s listening for ghostly footsteps.

“Shut up, I was, uh. Can I ride with you again? This was really cool and-- I don’t know, I kind of-- I have pamphlets? There’s a wax museum that looks really creepy, I don’t know.”

“You askin’ me to go steady, Sami Zayn?”

Sami can’t look at Dean. He puts his hands over his face. “-- No! Yes? I don’t know, Dean, you confuse me.” Dean makes a humming noise and sits up off of Sami’s legs. Sami feels the bed dip down close to him.

“Lemme just-- know if i’m misreading this, cool?” Dean’s fingers are cool on Sami’s wrists as he pulls Sami’s hands away from his face.

Sami doesn’t even have time to make his eyebrows form a questioning configuration before Dean’s kissing him. It’s really soft. It’s probably the most romantic kiss he’s ever had, and it’s in a haunted hotel.

At that thought, Sami startles backwards. Dean looks a little sad and confused to not be kissing him, which gives Sami the good kind of punch to the stomach.

“Dean, we can’t!” Before Dean starts looking more upset than mullish, Sami hurries on. “I don’t want an old-timey racist ghost to watch us make out.”

Dean’s eyebrows fold down. For a second, Sami thinks that he’s angry or sad, but Dean just nods.

“This is what I get for trying to seduce you with the allure of the unexplained,” He says, apparently accepting his fate. He might be quoting from a ghost show.

“You, uh-- don’t need to seduce me? I’m… seduced. I guess. I think you’re really great.” “That’s because I already seduced you, Sami,” Dean taps his temple. “Playin’ the long game.” Privately, Sami doesn’t necessarily think that the afternoon and a majority of the evening is the long game, but if Dean will let him hold his hand at the wax museum or whatever weird thing they decide to do, he’ll count it as a win.

Footsteps echo above them, and Dean looks up with a flash of dimples that take Sami’s’ breath away. Yeah. Definitely a win.

#sambrose #sami zayn #dean ambrose #wwe #my writing #theyre the worst ghost hunters ever

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takemeawaytocamelot · 7 years

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Speed Dating - Learning to Ride

Well! This didn’t get put out on Friday like I’d hoped, but here it is anyway! My wonderful friends @diversemediums and @outlandishchridhe helped me polish this up quite a bit and they’re amazing. This is most of 12 pages, so it’ll be under a cut. But this odd little AU is a lot of fun to write, so I hope you guys enjoy it! @outlanderedandoverhere there’s a bit of dialogue I used that you and I had talked about. Hope you like it ;)

Catch up on their Dinner Date and the Drabble leading up to this chapter!

Jamie pulled his truck into his usual parking spot, watching Claire’s face as she looked at his stables. This was really just the main barn, not the breeding stable or the small arena, but he knew it was impressive.

“And you work here?”

“Aye. When old Alec started it, he had a barn wi’ three stalls and a round pen. Now we’ve got a foaling barn, breeding stalls, two arenas, and several stalls. Plus my office, tack rooms, bunk rooms in the foaling barn, and even a wee kitchen.”

She stared at him, eyes wide with shock.

“You must be very good at your job if you’ve accomplished so much already.”

Jamie laughed, hopping out of his truck and jogging around to get her door. His mam had raised him to be a gentleman, so he offered his hand and helped her out. She’d done as he’d asked and worn jeans and practical shoes.

One of his stable lads had gotten Thistle out and she stood waiting for them. Jamie had picked Thistle because of her gentle nature and small size. She would be perfect for Claire’s first ride.

“She’s adorable!” Claire said, eyes locking on the mare.

“Aye. Gi’ her a scratch right behind her left ear and she’ll follow ye like a puppy. Now, before we do anything, take a few minutes and get to know her a bit.”

“How?”

He spotted the grooming box set where he’d left it earlier that morning and pulled out the soft brush.

“Here. Brush her out. Talk to her. Make sure she’s no debris in her fur, make sure she’s no’ tender anywhere. Watch her ears, those tell her what she’s payin’ attention to and how she’s feelin’.”

Claire nodded, taking the brush.

“Up and forward, like they are now, means she’s alert and happy. If they’re pinned back, she’s verra angry. Just be gentle and talk to her.”

“Wait, where are you going?!”

Jamie smiled and patted Thistle’s rump.

“Nowhere, lass. I’ll be right here.”

Her eyes went wide.

“Wait! I don’t know how to do this!”

He smirked back at her.

“Ye rode me just fine, Sassenach,” he said lowly, eyes glinting mischievously.

Her cheeks flushed and she looked around to be sure no one heard him. No one was near the ring, though, all going about their chores.

Jamie walked her through the rituals of grooming, teaching her how to ask Thistle to lift her feet. Then he saddled the mare and put Claire on top of the mounting block.

He sighed, watching the mare’s ears flick all around her, tail swishing constantly. But he knew this mare and knew she was only responding to the fear and worry Claire radiated. She was much too skittish, even for Thistle. Then, he had an idea.

“Alright, Sassenach. I’ll co-ride behind ye for a bit to help ye get the feel of it. Ye canna ride so tight.”

Claire eyed him, full lips curving into a devious smile.

“Help me get the feel of it, hm?”

His ears turned pink but he met her eyes steadily.

“Aye,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Mount up, lass.”

He fiddled around with the horse’s headstall and left the reins on her neck before he took the saddle off completely.

“Um,” I began, looking timidly at the leather he’d just put on one of the fence rails. “Don’t we need that?”

“Nah,” he said. “It isna what holds ye on. Here, I’ll help ye up and ride behind ye.”

I was glad the horse he’d chosen was small, or I might not have agreed to it. I did what he said, and scooted as far forward on her back as was comfortable. He mounted right behind me and I was envious of his grace. When his arms came around me, I couldn’t suppress a shudder.

“Alright. Now remember, if ye have a saddle or no, the horse always feels ye. So if ye clench that sweet round arse of yours,” he said, nudging my backside with his hips. “She’ll feel it and get nervous. So just relax.”

Though he had the reins in his hands, held loosely, I didn’t see him use them. His legs were pressed against mine, allowing me to feel his muscles flex and twitch. It took me a few minutes to realize what he was doing.

Each movement of his leg resulted in a change of direction from Thistle, or an increase in speed. After a few minutes of feeling his solid presence behind me, I couldn’t help but relax. I’d thought, when he first settled behind me, that he’d play dirty, but he didn’t. His arms simply held me in the right position, comfortable and safe.

“Alright,” he said quietly in my ear. “I think ye’ve got the hang of it.”

He slid off and helped me find my feet again. Then he put the pad and saddle back on, before removing the bridle and putting the halter back on.

Christ. If he’d gone around one more time with her perfect arse tight between his thighs… Well, it was time to get this lesson moving along. His office upstairs locked. Perhaps he could take her up there and feel that arse again, warm and soft in his hands.

“How am I supposed to steer?” Claire asked, eyeing the saddle dubiously, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Ye willna, no’ yet anyway. I’ve got ye on the lead line. Ye must learn to ride wi’ your seat, no’ your hands.”

“James,” she said sourly. “I don’t have any idea what the hell any of that means.”

Her nostrils flared at him, but he thought it was more from irritation than anger.

“Aye, I ken. Let me help ye up so I can explain it better.”

Once she was mounted, he adjusted the stirrups properly.

“Riding is all about balance. Despite the saddle and pad, she can feel ye. She kens when you’re anxious, and it’ll make her anxious. So just breathe, relax, let yer body move wi’ her. We’ll start at a walk so ye can get used to it, aye?”

As he’d expected, Claire clenched and was as stiff as a board while he walked Thistle around the ring. So, to get her to relax, he started talking about something completely different.

“I was thinkin’ I should have ye over again next week maybe. I think I’ve got a lemon chicken thing you’ll like.”

“Thing?”

“Aye, weel… I canna ever find the right word to describe what it is. But it’s verra good. Jenny keeps beggin’ me for the recipe.”

Claire chuckled, a sure sign she was beginning to relax. When he glanced back, she moved with Thistle now, looking happier.

“Stop staring. I know I look ridiculous.”

“No!” he said sharply. “Ye look like ye belong on her. Ye look verra bonny, Sassenach. I’m gonna let out the line now, aye? I’ve still got a hold of her, but I’m gonna let her walk out and I’ll stay in the center.”

Claire clenched up again, but visibly forced herself to relax. He didn’t want to push Claire too far, and he knew her legs would be feeling this workout tomorrow. For now, he let Thistle walk at her lazy pace. After a little while, he pushed her into a faster walk, though not quite a trot.

He kept an eye on Claire’s posture, watching for signs of tiredness. The straightness of her back began to lessen, so he slowed Thistle down until she plodded to a stop. Jamie gathered the lead line as he walked toward the pair, pleased with the smile on Claire’s face.

“Who’s a good girl?” Claire asked, patting Thistle’s warm neck. “Jamie, she’s wonderful!”

“I told ye she’d take care of ye. Here, swing that leg over, aye, just like that. Easy, ye might feel a bit-” He caught her as her knees gave out. “Wobbly.”

She swore loudly and he tried not to smile.

“My legs didn’t hurt when I was in the saddle! Why do they hurt now?”

“Ye used different muscles than ye have before. It’ll help ye to walk a bit. We need to brush her down again anyway.”

He didn’t have to explain this time, so he let her do most of it. Yes, the sweet bay mare had been the right choice for Claire.

“What do we do with her now?”

“We can put her away, or let her stand in the ring for a bit. Are ye feelin’ alright?”

“Yes, I’m okay. She’s a lovely creature, Jamie.”

Lifting his hand, he let Thistle sniff it before he scratched the little white star on her forehead.

“Aye. She’s one o’ mine. I let her out to new kids learning how to ride or for anyone who’s afraid.”

“Jamie!”

They both stood up straighter and turned to see who’d entered the barn.

“Damn. I’d hoped they wouldn’t stop by,” Jamie muttered.

Claire stood a little taller, folding her arms over her chest as the group approached them.

“Angus, Rupert, Murtagh. I thought ye were goin’ out to the pub?”

“Aye,” Angus said, eyeing Claire. “We thought about it. But we thought maybe ye’d like to join us.”

“Unless yer no’ done wi’ yer wee ride, eh?” Rupert said, giving them both a broad grin.

Jamie rolled his eyes, putting a hand on Claire’s shoulder.

“Sorry, lads. I’m afraid I’ve got plans already.”

Angus waggled his eyebrows at the pair.

“Oh, I’m sure ye do,” he said, grinning.

Murtagh, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, came to the rescue.

“Jamie likely wants to show Claire around the stable grounds. Lets leave him to it, aye?”

After a little more convincing, Murtagh got Angus and Rupert out of the barn.

“Always good to see them,” Claire chuckled.

“Aye. Never a dull moment wi’ them. Would ye like to see the stables? We’ve a new foal I think ye might like.”

“What about Thistle?”

He scratched behind the mare’s ears.

“We’ll un-tack her and put her back in her stall. But then we can go.”

Jamie let me care for Thistle, thanking her for giving me a good ride. He carried the bridle and saddle and showed me where her stall was. We stopped by a tack room where Jamie ducked inside and returned with a closed fist.

“Here. She likes these wee treats. Hold your hand out flat, dinna curl your fingers. Aye, like that.”

I tentatively held my hand out to the sweet mare and yelped when her lips felt around my hand. My hand jerked away and the little treat dropped to the floor. Thistle didn’t mind, her upper lip feeling around until she found it.

“It’s alright,” Jamie laughed. “I ken it feels a bit odd.”

He stepped up behind me, laying his hand against the back of mine. His free hand came around to rest on my hip and I felt like it belonged there.

“That’s it, just hold your hand flat. Verra good.”

Thistle lipped the treat out of my hand and gobbled it down. Before she’d finished swallowing, she was searching my hand or another.

“So,” I said, a little breathless with his body pressed so close to mine. “What, um, are you going to show me first?”

“Let’s go see the new foal. I think you’ll like her a lot.”

With my arm linked through his, I followed him through the sprawling stable grounds. It was magnificent to behold, everything clean and in its proper place. He knew every horse we walked by and greeted every worker by name.

We reached the foaling barn which only held two adult horses. Both mares had large stalls, filled with soft bedding material I didn’t recognize. One of the mares was a large dapple gray, her thick tail swishing softly. A pale little foal twitched its fuzzy tail in a perfect mime of its mother.

“Ye ken Donas, the devil-spawn I told ye about?”

“Right. That’s when you told me sometimes Satan consorts with mares. Our first date.”

He smirked, eyes still on the foal.

“Aye. I havena gelded him and that wee thing in there is his daughter.”

“You bred him?!”

“Aye! I had a man pay his stud fee to cover this gorgeous mare of his. I was worried, ken? Turns out, Donas may be the son of the devil, but he doesna pass that temperament on to his get!”

I stared at him in shock before looking back at the filly. She’d noticed us watching her and had taken to prancing around her mother, nose up in the air.

“Well she’s awfully cute.”

“Aye. I’m hopin’ she gets Donas’ feet. Her mam there has feet a bit too small for her body and she’s a fifty-fifty shot on passin’ it on. If she does, weel… We’ll decide what to do wi’ the filly later.”

The little horse came trotting up to the door and I stuck my knuckles out for her to smell. She nudged me and I pet her nose. The fuzz on her skin felt like velvet beneath my fingers and I smiled at her.

“What’s her name?”

“Dinna ken yet,” Jamie said, leaning on the stable door beside her. “I like to wait and see who they are before I gi’ them a name. They deserve a chance to be who they’ll be wi’out a name to tell them who that is.”

I looked at him curiously.

“Interesting philosophy for horses.”

He looked away from the filly and met my eyes, smiling.

“Thank ye, Claire. For comin’ out here wi’ me, lettin’ me teach ye to ride.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at riding.”

“No’ yet, but nobody is their first time out. If ye like, ye can keep comin’ out here wi’ me and riding Thistle. She’s a sturdy wee thing and she liked ye.”

I thought back to the feeling of him riding behind me. His arms around me, body holding me safe as he taught me how to move with the horse. That newly familiar warmth crept up my body, filling me with a tingling need.The flush crawled up my neck to my face and Jamie met my gaze, a knowing expression on his face.

“Would ye like to see the rest of the place?”

I nodded and took his hand.

By the time he’d finished with the tour, Claire looked tired. It was good that he’d had her walk around a bit before allowing her to settle down. That would help her not feel as stiff later. When she stifled her fourth yawn in ten minutes, he nudged her.

“If ye like, ye can come up to my office and take a wee nap on the couch.”

“What? No, I’m fine,” she said, the last word drifting off in another yawn.

Jamie grinned at her.

“Come on. Your body isna used to the work it takes to ride yet. And we’ve been walkin’ around the stables for a while. I’ll get a little work done while ye nap and then I’ll take ye out for a nice lunch, aye?”

Her eyes narrowed at him.

“Hmm… No deal.”

He blinked at her in surprise. She didn’t want to go out to lunch with him?

“Oh. Weel I can take ye home if ye like.”

“No no, not that. I’ll go take a nap but then I’m taking you out for lunch. You made dinner last time.”

Leaning down, he stole a kiss.

“Alright. That’s a deal I can make.”

Taking her hand, he lead her upstairs to the rooms above the main stable. There was a lounge for staff on break, a decent sized kitchen, a few bunk rooms, and his office.

The office was bigger than he’d have made it, but Jenny had insisted on helping him with the design. She had an eye for spaces and looked at a room like a puzzle to piece together. Besides the desk and chair he used in the office, Jenny had been the one to paint and furnish the space.

Long, rectangular windows gave the office most of its light, though it had a few lamps in strategic places as well. A big, comfortable brown leather couch sat against the wall across from his desk. Jenny had chosen the color scheme and the throw blanket she’d found almost matched his quilt at home. The decorative pillows placed artfully on the couch were the Fraser colors.

“My thighs feel like they’re on fire,” Claire said, sinking into the couch.

Jamie chuckled, turning on his computer and giving it a minute to boot up.

“Aye, that’s good though. Means ye used your legs more than your hands.”

She kicked off the shoes she’d worn and sighed happily.

“Muscle builds,” she said, almost to herself. “It won’t hurt as much next time.”

His brows lifted a little. He’d thought she’d enjoyed herself, but he hadn’t been sure she’d want another lesson.

“Ye mean to let me teach ye to ride, then?”

Claire stretched out on the couch, turned so she could see him easily. The white pillow beneath her head made her skin look like ivory.

“Well yes,” she said. “But not until I’ve tried my hand at teaching you something.”

“If ye mean to keep this up, perhaps I’ll take ye to get some proper riding britches.”

“And what,” she yawned again, her eyes drooping. “Does that mean?”

After he tucked the blanket securely around her, he bent down and kissed her cheek.

“We’ll talk about it later. Get some rest, Sassenach.”

When her breathing dropped into the steady rhythm of sleep, he went back to his computer. He got some work done, paid a few bills, and after several unsuccessful minutes attempting to work out the bills for a few clients, he let his mind wander. Claire would look good in riding britches.

God, what wouldn’t he give to see that arse of hers in that tight material. Still thinking of her perfect backside, he let out an involuntary groan. That feeling of her, pressed hard against his thighs…

“Blessed Mary mother of God,” he breathed, forcing his eyes open. His gaze immediately met Claire’s amber eyes.

“What’s got you worked into such a fit?” she asked softly.

Could he tell her it was simply the thought of her rump?

“Weel… Ah…”

She stretched, reminding him a bit of a cat, and smiled at him.

“Jamie, promise me one thing.”

“What is it ye need me to promise?”

“Honesty. I think… I think there’s room for secrets in a relationship, but not lies. So whatever you tell me, promise that it’ll always be the truth and I’ll do the same.”

Nodding slowly, he wondered who had broken their word to her in the past.

“I swear to ye, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, that whatever words I speak to ye, they will be the truth. I ken there’s things ye havena told me yet and there’s things I havena told ye either. But I will always be honest wi’ ye.”

Her eyes closed for a moment and he thought she’d fallen back asleep. But when they opened again, they smoldered with desire.

“So, tell me honestly. What was it that got you so worked up a moment ago?”

For a moment, he considered claiming it was something he couldn’t tell her yet. But compared to the big thing he couldn’t say yet, it was stupid.

“Your arse,” he said plainly.

“My ass got you worked up?”

She pushed herself up and sat in the exact center of the couch, watching him curiously.

“Aye,” he answered, getting up slowly from his desk. “First I was thinkin’ about seeing ye in a nice pair of proper riding britches. The fabric holdin’ tight to that perfect arse ye have.” He sank into the couch beside her and she put her head down on his lap. Unable to resist, he patted her rump before giving her a playful swat. “And then I was thinkin’ about ridin’ wi’ ye first thing today. The way ye were tight against my thighs…”

Claire sat up again, moving so his hand remained where it was. Her eyes met his again and he had a sudden flash of memory. While he had no ear for music, he enjoyed the poetry some musicians put into their songs. A particular set of lyrics came to mind.

Do not let my fickle flesh go to waste

As it keeps my heart and soul in its place

And I will love with urgency but not with haste*

Jamie hadn’t realized Claire had moved until she sat gingerly on his lap. Her lips were soft against his, moving at a tantalizingly slow pace.

“Have you got a pair?” she purred in his ear.

“Aye,” he said without hesitating. “And ye’ve seen them. Fondled them a time or two as well. Decent size, I’d wager, though I dinna make it a habit to inspect other men’s balls.”

As he’d hoped, she broke into a fit of giggles, laughing until tears streamed down her face.

“That is not what I meant.”

He nipped at her neck, pleased at the sound she made.

“And what was it ye meant then, a nighean?”

“I meant did you have a pair of riding britches.”

Reaching up, he untangled the tie from her hair, releasing the mad curls in a poof. He ran his fingers through it, enjoying the softness of it.

“Of course I do. I actually have a full competition outfit as well, but I only bring it out on special occasions.”

Her eyes went wide with glee.

“What counts as a special occasion?”

“If ye want to see me in top hat and bow tie, ye have to get a pair of britches and boots first.”

Longing to taste the smile on her lips, he kissed her until he almost couldn’t breathe.

“Deal,” she said when he released her.

Claire pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it behind her, her hips moving slowly against his. She helped him off with his own shirt and ran her hands over his bare chest. The words he yearned to say to her echoed through his mind, but now wasn’t the time. Not yet.

But soon.

Standing on slightly trembling feet, Claire began working at her jeans, glancing to his office door.

“Does that lock?”

“Aye, it does.”

He kicked off his own boots and shimmied out of his jeans and boxers. Before he could get up to either lock the door or kiss Claire, she’d pushed him back down and straddled him. Her hands gripped the back of the couch, her golden eyes burning down at him.

After a little adjusting, she took him home and ground against him. Waves of heat pulsed through him in time with her thrusts and he let himself be completely lost in it. Her head was thrown back as she rode him, which arched her back. Her breasts were presented to him like an offering and he chose to accept.

She gasped when he took the tip of one breast into his mouth, his tongue flicking over her aroused flesh. The smooth rhythm of her hips was interrupted by uncontrolled jerks. Releasing her breast with a pop, he traced the curve of it up her chest as far as he could. The salt of her sweat was better than any whisky he’d ever had.

Much as he wanted to, he didn’t let himself go when her body began to convulse with pleasure. He wasn’t ready to be done with her yet. As she came down from her high, she looked at him curiously. Without warning, he stood, still keeping her on him, and moved to the floor in front of the couch.

I love you, he thought to himself as he laid her down. I love you and I am yours.

Then it was his turn to show her how well he could ride. Her legs were tight around him, her heels helping drive him forward. His body bucked wildly against hers, bringing him nearer the edge with every passing moment.

When he could hold back no longer, he let himself go and cried out in Gaelic. Even he wasn’t sure what words he’d said, but the tone and exclamation were enough. Claire, face flushed and skin glowing with sweat, was smiling.g

“Jesus. H. Roosevelt Christ,” she said, heaving a great breath between each word.

“Tha gaol agam ort,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck as his fingertips felt the flutter of her pulse.

Capturing her mouth in a slow, sensual kiss, he peeled himself off and took the blanket from the couch. He also grabbed two of the pillows to put beneath her head and draped them with the blanket.

“You’ve said that before,” she said, turning onto her side to face him. “Will you tell me what it means?”

This was the one thing he’d been afraid to tell her - the one secret he had from her. It was far too soon to tell her this, to share this with her. But… Their whole romance had moved quickly. Perhaps it wouldn’t scare her away.

“Well,” he said slowly, eyes and fingers following a bead of sweat down her neck. “It means ‘I love you’.”

* Not With Haste by Mumford & Sons

#outlander #outlander fanfic #takemeawaytocamelot #speed dating au #learning to ride #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser

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4everinsane · 7 years

Text

Harry Styles - “Confessions” Part Five

This is the conclusion to the series! I hope you all have enjoyed it and that this lives up to your expectations. Thanks for all of the love and support I have received for this imagine. Means the world to me.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

“How long does it take to get the results of this test?” You wonder out loud to Harry later that evening. The two of you were headed for LAX, going to pick up Anne, whose flight was to be landing at any minute. Harry had gone early that morning and gotten his blood drawn, as did the mother. Harry told you the two of them didn’t see or speak to each other though, which was good.

“They said a couple of days but would rush it because of the circumstances.” Harry explains, keeping his eyes forward and both hands tight on the steering wheel.

“You mean because of who you are.” You clarified for him. “If you aren’t the father, they’ll want to know as soon as possible so they can make sure no one starts rumors you’re having a child, and if they do they have proof that you aren’t.”

“Can we jus’ not talk abou’ this? ’m nervous, ’m scared, I don’ need you over here sayin’ stuff like tha’ to make me feel worse.” This was the first time he had snapped at you in awhile, especially since all of this had happened. It showed you just how much this was taking a toll on him.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, reaching over to rest your hand on his bicep. “I was just thinking out loud, I guess.” You tell him, removing your hand. He sighs, instantly regretting the tone of voice he had taken with you. He glances over at you but you weren’t looking at him and instead were focused on the buildings and cars flying past outside your window.

Harry had felt a sense of hope last night and this morning that things would be okay with the two of you. You had kissed him, you had said you loved him, you’d laughed and joked with him this morning when he got home from the doctors office. Things felt normal and okay again. And he knew the results of the paternity test would most likely determine if you would return back to London as his girlfriend or his ex to never see him again.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about all of this anymore. Of course, he didn’t particularly want this baby, but if it was his he knew he would love it completely and raise him or her to the best of his ability, even if that meant he would lose you. He would be a parent and he would have to do what he had to for his child. For the fear of losing you alone was the only reason he was praying the baby turned out not to be his. He hadn’t let himself feel that emotional connection yet. He hadn’t seen an ultrasound, he hadn’t heard a heartbeat, right now it was an abstract idea, a phantom consuming his thoughts until all of this was resolved.

“Hey,” Harry breaks from his thoughts and looks over at you for a second, seeing that you were looking at him with concern riddled across that beautiful face. You reach over, resting a hand on his leg. “You alright?”

“Jus’ thinkin’.” Harry answers, turning back to the road. They were almost at the airport. He couldn’t wait to see his mother. He needed the comfort of his mothers arms around him as he figured this all out. You were also excited to see her. Anne had always been such a comfort to you and it was going to be nice to have her around to help.

“What about?” You wonder, your hand still resting on his leg. You see him bite at his lower lip, clearly unsure if he wanted to tell you what was on his mind or not. “You don’t have to tell me.” You assure him but he shakes his head.

“’m jus’ thinkin’ abou’ how I’ll feel if the baby isn’ mine and how I’ll feel if it is mine.” He explains quietly, giving a small shrug of his muscular shoulders. “I don’ feel a connection yet and I know the only way there would be chance of you forgiving me would be if I wasn’ the father so I prefer tha’ instead of a child with someone else righ’ now.”

“Whether you’re the father or not, you still cheated and then lied to me, Harry. I’m not going to just forgive you because you might not be the father.” Though admittedly, you would be more so open to resolving all of this if he wasn’t going to be tied down to a child.

“Yeah, bu’ if ‘m no’ then I have more time to spend on gettin’ you back.” He grins over at you then and takes your hand from his leg to bring the back of your hand up to his lips. He glances over at you as his soft lips kiss your skin before he puts your hand back on his leg and focuses back on the road. You’re heart raced at his touch, your mind going a mile a minute.

You didn’t speak for the remainder of the trip, which was thankfully not much, but you did keep your hand on his leg. Once you saw Anne and you both got out of the car, heading to greet her, she pulled you both into a hug one at a time, holding you both close against her as you hug her just as tightly back.

“Oh, Harry,” She comments, resting a hand on her son’s cheek as she looks into his tired and clearly stressed face but he gives her a smile, not wanting to upset her more than he already had. He hugs her again before he takes her bags and heads to put them in the back of his car while the two of you hug again.

The drive home was thankfully not awkward. Baby talk didn’t happen, instead Anne shared stories of what was going on at home, what her and Robin had been up to, as well as Harry’s sister Gemma. It was nice to talk about something other than the baby and cheating and just pretend that everything was okay again.

“So, am I taking the guest room or is it pre-occupied?” Anne questioned when Harry was close to pulling into the driveway. That’s when you glance over at Harry, realizing the two of you clearly hadn’t thought about that. You’d been sleeping in the guest room still while he was in your old bedroom. Now with Anne needing the guest room where would you go.

“I’ll just... I’ll take the couch. It will only be for a few days anyway.” You answer, giving a shrug. The couch was plenty big enough and decently comfortable so it shouldn’t be too bad.

“I’ll take the couch.” Harry argues. “Or, you could stay with me. We have a huge bed, or well... I have a huge bed.. we won’ have to sleep close together or anythin’.” You bite your lip but decide he was right. You wouldn’t have to be close to him as the bed was in fact huge with plenty of space but you had to admit it would still be a little bit weird and hard to be so close in a bed that the two of you had once been intimate in but it would have to do for the next few days until all of this was finished and you returned home.

It was so nice to have Anne there. She helped fill that awkward silence that sometimes fell between you and Harry. She also made it easy to not talk about the current situation, the two of you were escaping all of it finally and it felt so nice to have laughs and comfort instead of arguing and tears.

“Jus’ kick me if I ge’ too close.” Harry comments to you after the two of you had gotten ready for bed. You were pulling all the extra pillows off the bed that Harry had always been annoyed by. He always claimed that you didn’t need more than what you used to sleep so why overload the bed with smaller decorative ones? You said it made the room complete and they were staying, so he put up with it but you had to admit, the task of taking them off every night did get kind of annoying, as did having to put them all back on in the morning. “You know I like a cuddle.”

“And you know I have no problem kicking you.” You respond with an innocent smile to which his response was to grab a pillow and toss it at you. You laugh as it bounces off your arm that you held up to shield yourself. “You can kick me if I get too close too. Not that I will but ya know, just in case.”

“Yeah, I will.” He smirks at you as the two of you pull back the blankets and slide into bed. You sigh as you collapse back into the pillows, pulling the thick blanket up to your chin as you sink into the mattress. You had missed this comfortable bed.

Surprisingly, the two of you did keep your distance from one another throughout the night. He stayed on his side, and you on yours. He woke before you and couldn’t help but smile over at your sleeping form, needing to resist the urge to pull you close against him like he used to. He knew you wouldn’t like that though so instead he just leaned in, pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, careful not to wake up, before sliding out of bed.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” He greeted you when you entered the kitchen a little while later. He lifts his forkful of eggs in a greeting before sliding the plate over to you when you sit beside him. “Eggs?” He asks, his mouth full. You laugh and shove him with your elbow before grabbing his fork.

“You’re disgusting.” You comment before shoving your own forkful of eggs into your mouth. You realize then that maybe sharing a plate of breakfast wasn’t a normal and just friends kind of thing to do but it’s what the two of you had done for so long, it happened so naturally just as holding hands after the meeting with the lawyers had been. You push the thoughts from your head though as Anne walks into the room, freshly showered and grinning at her son and you, happy to see that things were clearly getting better with the two of you.

“Morning everyone!” She greets, going about making herself a cup of coffee. Harry watched you through the rest of breakfast, the two of you passing the fork back and forth until the eggs were gone. He kept thinking about how nice all of this had been and how easily it could go back to this but that damn test was looming over everything. It could ruin all of this but then he kept thinking how he already had ruined all of this but these moments gave him hope that just maybe it wasn’t over, that you and him still had a chance as a couple.

It had now been three days since he took the paternity test and still hadn’t gotten an answer but everyday he woke up with his hands shaking, a nervous sweat building on his skin as he thought about how today could be the day. This morning you had picked up on it as you awoke and knew instantly what he was thinking, so against your better judgement you pulled him close and allowed him to curl against you and cry.

“I don’ know what I’m goin’ to do.” He cried into your neck, holding you tight against him. “I can’ be the father, I can’t.”

“We’ll get through this, Harry,” You realized as you said it how that sounded and Harry clearly did too as he gave a small hiccup and lifted his head to frown down at you. “I mean... I.. we’ll get through finding out the results. I... we’ll figure out the rest when we get there.” You were so confused as to how you were feeling lately, about him, about the cheating, about the baby.

You loved Harry, you loved him so much, and he had been showing you how much he loved you these last few days. He was being caring, affectionate as best he could without letting it go too far and make you uncomfortable, he was being his old self and you had missed that. You missed Harry, and you missed being in a relationship with him. Maybe forgiving him wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He had been your life for so long, you could perhaps try at least.

It was later that afternoon, the two of you and Anne had been watching a movie when Harry’s phone rang. You looked over at him beside you and saw that his face had grown pale. You glance down at his phone and see it was his lawyer calling him. The results were in.

“Answer it, Harry.” You hiss at him, elbowing him. He looks over at you, his eyes wide and a crease formed between his brows. “I can do it.” You reach for the phone but he seems to snap out of it and stands up, accepting the call.

He walks across the room, his back to both of you as he talks low, his voice quiet. You and Anne look over at each other and she reaches over to take your hand as she picks up on the way your heart rate had increases and your breathing had become shallow as you focused on Harry, trying to hear what was happening but you couldn’t hear him.

And then the phone fell from his hand as he ended the call and your heart sank. That gave you the answer of what the news he had just received was and you felt your heart shattering all over again. Harry was to be a father, you just knew it.

“Harry?” Anne questions after a few moments of silence, Harry still with his back to the two of you. “What did he say?” But Harry still didn’t answer.

“Harry? Talk to us, please.” You stand then, releasing Anne to walk towards him. “Please.” Maybe it was the fact that you had come closer, or maybe it was just the fact that you had a quiet plea to your voice and he sensed you were close to tears, but he finally turned. His face was dry but his eyes were wide and he had an emotion hidden in his eyes that you couldn’t quite pick up on. “What did he say?”

“It’s...” He takes a deep breath and then to your astonishment, he began to smile. “It’s not mine.” His breath was just a whisper but you heard it loud and clear. “They said there wasn’ a match at all and there’s no way it’s mine.” Your head was buzzing, unable to form a coherent thought as you look up into those green eyes.

“Oh, Harry,” You both turn as Anne stands and rushes over to hug him tightly but you still just stood there. “I’ll... I’ll give you two some time to talk this through.” She kisses Harry’s cheek, then yours after giving you a quick hug, and leaves the room. Harry turns to you, silently questioning your thoughts.

“It’s over, love, it’s all over. We don’ have to worry abou’ this anymore.” All he wanted to hear now after hearing those amazing words was to hear you say you still loved him and were willing to give him another chance. “Okay, look,” He steps forward and takes your hands in his, gripping at you tightly. You look up into his eyes, still wanting your thoughts to straighten themselves out but your head was still buzzing so instead you allowed him to talk. “I know I still messed up, I cheated, and tha’ will forever be my bigges’ regret bu’ if you le’ me, I will spend the rest of my life tryin’ to make up for this. I love you, I love you so much, Y/N. Please... give me jus’ one more chance, tha’s all ‘m askin for.”

“Harry,” You whisper, releasing one of his hands to instead bring your hand up to rest on his slightly stubble covered cheek. He hadn’t shaved that morning but you liked the feel of it under your fingertips. “It’s going to take a lot for me to fully forgive you.” He sighs, closing his eyes as he willed the tears not to come. He knew this was it. He had made it to the other side of this whole pregnancy ordeal so now you were going to say since he didn’t need you anymore you were going to leave. “But I’m willing to try.” His eyes pop open and he sees you giving him a soft smile.

“Really?” He whispers, unable to believe that you were willing to give him another chance, and give him another shot at being a better boyfriend this time. You still wanted him, you still wanted to be with him, and he was stunned that somehow, after all this shit you were willing to try again. He didn’t deserve you, he really didn’t.

“I love you so much, Harry,” You say. “And even after all of this, through all of this, if I can still love you, then just maybe we really can make this work.”

“Oh my god.” He whispers it like a prayer and then pulls you into his arms, his face burying in your neck as he holds you close. Your arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, both of you with grins you couldn’t control. “I love you, I love you so much.” He pulls back to say and then his lips were on yours. “I don’ deserve you-”

“Just shut up and kiss me again, Harry. I’m done talking.” You cut him off, a grin on your face. His face broke out into his adorable boyish grin that you had missed so much. You tangle your fingers in his hair as his lips join with yours again.

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sc87confessions · 7 years

Text

Leave It Like This For Now

You and Sid got home pretty late from the party, you ended up crashin at your place since you’d have to get up early to decorate the house for your guys party. It was more of a casual party yet you guys were gonna clean up a bit as well. When you woke up Sid was sound asleep beside you, you checked your phone to see that it was 10am, you quietly got up and went to shower. When you got out, Sid was still asleep so you went downstairs to start decoratin the place. Jake was nowhere to be found so you assumed he was sleepin too. You went straight into the kitchen to feed your dog and then to work on some pastries that you were makin, once you popped them in the oven, you made yourself a protein shake and headed on to the garage to get everythin out. You then turned on the radio to a low volume but loud enough for you to hear across the livin room. Little by little but quickly everythin inside the house was set up. You then headed on to the backyard where everythin needed a bit more decoration, you definitely were lookin forward to it as you enjoyed doin these kinds of things. You set up the patio to a more open section and placed more tables, some for sittin and the others to put food on. You were workin on movin the string lights around and placin decorations on the patio roof and across the lawn. You were up on the ladder when you heard Sid come outside. “Well good mornin sunshine” you teased “How in the world do you have everything set up so fast?” he asked shockingly as he looked around at the patio. “I already had a plan in mind so that helps, want some breakfast?” “I can make it myself so you can finish what you were doing, thank you though” “Sidney, I’m already done, plus I have to get the pastries out of the oven” you said as you saw that it had been time to take them out. You guys headed inside as Sid was amazed by all the stuff you had done in a small amount of time. “It smells amazing in here honey” Sid said as he smelled food that came out of the kitchen. You cooked his breakfast as you worked on the frostin for the pastries and worked on makin apple pie as well. Once you served Sid his plate, you continued baking around the kitchen and then doin the dishes. “You really are Wonder Woman” Sid said with his mouth full of food, “this is so fuckin delicious” “Thanks Sidney” you beamed As Sid showered you were finishin tidyin up the place when Jake arrived home. You thought this whole time that he was in his room. “Well I thought I’d never see you again” you joked at Jake “Haha did you get lucky with Sid though?” “Are you kiddin me? We knocked out cold as soon as we got home, PLUS looks like I’m the one that had to do all the settin up around here” you said “I owe you BIG time (Y/N)” he said as he gave you a hug “You sure do, however I’m glad Leila’s not here so we can talk about how you’re goin to ask her” you said excitingly You motioned Jake to sit on the chair next to Sid so you guys can catch up on what the plan will be for Jake proposin. You and Jake went back and forth on some ideas, how not to look suspicious and where exactly he should ask her in the backyard to get the best pictures, even what time would be best to ask her. Sid would just stare and nod here and there as he enjoyed his breakfast. “My Jake, I know however you decide to do it, Leila’s goin to love this surprise” you said as you couldn’t believe today was the day your best friend life was goin to change for better, “shoot you can propose to her at Starbucks and she’ll still say yes” you joked “That’s if she says yes (Y/N)” Jake said nervously “No no no, Jake you’re sellin yourself short, any girl would be lucky to have you in their life, Leila was smart enough to realize that and I know that she’s a great girl too” you encouraged him “Plus, please don’t lose my invitation to the weddin, I really want to stuff my face with food” “So that’s why you want to go then?” he asked as he put his hand to his mouth dramatically “Well yea, the food should be delicious” you chuckled “(Y/N), you know you’re gonna be my ‘best man’ right?” he asked more seriously “Anythin you want, I’ll be there for you Jake” you replied “So earth to Sid, do you have any ideas on how I can pop the question?” Jake asked “Hmmmm I don’t know to be honest, I think something simple but personal would be best” he said slowly, “plus how would I know, I’m not thinking about doing that anytime soon or at all” he said but then looked at you in regret What the hell does that mean? “Anyways, Jake, we should come up with a code word to know when you’re goin to do it” you continued as if nothin happened “Let’s see…..cupcakes?” “Are there more cupcakes?” you asked “That’s perfect” As Sid showered, you were doin your makeup, you went for a natural look but with more sophistication as you wanted to look better than causal for the proposal. You wore a sundress that had the long tail on the back but was short in the front, you went for loose waves for you hair. Jake got ready and then went out to pick up Leila, when it started gettin around the evenin time, people started comin by, whether it was Sid’s friends, family, or your friends from work. You were busy makin everyone feel at home but somehow what Sid had said stuck in the back of your mind what did he mean by he wasn’t thinkin about proposin anytime soon or at all. Is he even takin me seriously then or is he just goin to use me for fun Everyone seemed to be havin a great time as the settin was more relaxin than yesterday’s event. You were drinkin beer as you were havin a nice conversation with you and your friends. “I’ve never seen these many cops since like the parade a few years ago” Phil said to Sid “Right, and we’re surrounded by a bunch right now, eh” “What’s up with you and (Y/N)?, you guys seem a bit off” Sid explained to what he said durin breakfast which cause Phil to smack him in the back of the head “Dude, she’s perfect for you, she’s badass, shit most of the guys from the NHL that have met her kept saying how they’d do anything for her” Phil said, “why would you say that? Is that how you feel, are you not taking her seriously?” “No I am, I AM, I’m scared, I’m scared she’s going to think I’M not good enough” he confessed “If she didn’t think you were, I’m pretty sure she’d be gone by now” Phil said “(Y/N), are there more cupcakes?!!” Jake yelled across the backyard “Let me check” you said as you went inside the house Jake somehow brought Leila to the back right in the center of everyone, the view of the city was behind your guys house so they looked perfect in that spot. You headed out towards the back with a cake that you had made in your hand. “Jake, darlin’ I didn’t find any cupcakes but I made this too, hey Leila look!” you said loud enough to get everyone’s attention. On the cake, you had written Leila, will you marry me? As soon as Leila read it, her eyes widened in shock and she turned around to look at Jake. Jake got down on one knee, “Leila, many people say that love at first sight doesn’t exist but darlin’ the moment I saw you at that Starbucks I knew that I had to get to know you, yes it took me forever and yes someone else had to make the first move for me to courage up to ask you” he said as he side-eyed you, “I will forever be grateful to have you in my life, I know it hasn’t been long enough, but Leila, you are it for me, I want to be the man that makes eveythin just a bit more better for you, I want to grow old with you and see what the future holds for us, Leila I love you, will you marry me?” he said as he cried “Are you kidding me, of COURSE!!” Leila replied as she jumped up and down in excitement “Here Leila now you’ll really need these ahhaha” you said as you handed her some handcuffs “That wasn’t part of the plan!” Jake said crackin up “Hey, there’s still girl code my friend” you said laughin Everyone else cried and laughed and then congratulated the newly engaged couple You were happy to see everyone havin an amazin time again, especially because you had been the one in charge of everythin. You were happy to see everyone comin by to see one another and supportin Jake. As everyone said their goodbyes and more congrats you started cleanin up around in the backyard. “Heyyy” Sid said in a sigh “What’s up Cros?” you said as you picked up the tables “I feel like we didn’t hangout today” he said “Well I was in charge of everythin so yeah we didn’t” Sid helped you move the tables back into the garage “I’m sorry about what I said earlier” he said “Look you said it for a reason, I’m not mad but I am a bit confused, if you’re not takin me serious then now’s the time to let me know” you said as you crossed your arms “No I AM taking you seriously, I don’t know why I said that” “Is it because we haven’t had sex Sidney?” “No no, definitely not, I’m not pressuring you into that, you know that” “Well I’m just makin sure, you said what you said and whatever you meant by it you need to let me know soon” you said as you continued puttin things away, “look I don’t want to argue, I’m exhausted and I have work tomorrow so let’s just leave it like this for now” you said.

#chapter 17 #chp 17 #SC87Confessions

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shewhowantsmouseears · 7 years

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Love Like Lava, 6

Notes: As always, big massive thank yous to my marvelous editors, Drucilla and Blueshifted!

I feel like this chapter is mostly filler. In between the horrifying sadness, anyway.

This storyline troubled me for years, in that I couldn't find a way to do the Pygmalion plot with Goofy without making it really creepy. Then it hit me - explore and explain the creepiness!

Summary: In trying to give a blessed gift, Minnie winds up giving Goofy an unknowing curse. As she becomes closer to Mickey, the sculptor's heart is broken once more.

Goofy had been a young man when he lost his lady love, although in such ancient times, twenty was a perfect age for marriage. He'd lost his own parents years before, but had been able to pull through thanks to Millicent's tender love and care. When she died, he felt as if a part of him had died with her. Even now with Goofy in his forties, the pain lingered like a fresh wound. He longed to see her again with every beat of his heart.

But longing didn't make miracles, so when he regained consciousness and saw his formerly dead sweetheart kneeling at his side patiently, it was almost enough to knock him out again. He wasn't particularly knowledgeable about many things in the world, but even he knew that the dead stayed dead, simple as that. He opened his eyes again, and she was still there.

“Does your head hurt?” the girl asked, hands on her thighs, cocking her head to see if a lump had formed on top of Goofy's skull – it was difficult to tell since his head was naturally bumpy. “Your head hit the floor really hard.”

He didn't speak at first – more accurately, he didn't possess the words to fit what was going through his heart and mind. Fear tried to freeze the blood in his veins, knowing something had gone against the very will of nature, yet unbridled happiness would melt it away because she was there and she was alive and what could be wrong with that? He heaved as he forced himself to sit up, hot tears blurring his vision. “Millie?” His voice cracked like glass, terrified and joyous, scared and elated. “Is... is it really...you?” His trembling hands reached out to cup her cheeks – cheeks that were warm, of fur and skin and flesh, and a sob escaped his throat. She hadn't aged a day since that fateful one decades past, looking the same as she did before she went on that deadly voyage.

“Well, who else would I be?” she replied, chuckling softly at his reaction, allowing his hands to do as they pleased. “Honestly, Goofy, you ask the silliest questions. You'd better expect some very silly answers.”

Goofy yanked Millie into his arms, his face becoming a wet embarrassment. “Millie!” It was nearly a howl of agony, all the years of pain released into this very moment. He wept her name over and over until it was a jumble of incomprehensible letters, and he didn't care if the entire village went up in flames so long as this time would never end. Millie, for her part, made no effort to wipe away his tears, as she figured they wouldn't stop for a while. She simply rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers curling against the shabbily made necklace that hung from her neck.

“I've missed you,” Goofy managed to speak in between hard breaths. “I never stopped thinkin' about you, all these years...I wanted you back every single day.”

“What do you mean, you silly goof? I've been here for a long time.”

The sculptor's eyes snapped open, a sudden and terrible realization out on the horizon. He wanted to believe she meant something sappy, like she'd been in his heart all along. He untangled his arms from around her thin body, pulling back enough to stare at her cheerful face. “Wh-whaddya mean? Whaddya mean you've been here for a long time?”

“You must have hit your hard much harder than I thought,” Millie quipped, still strangely peaceful despite all the sobs and screams. She lifted her hand and pointed to where the statue of her once stood – and stood no more. “I've been right there for years. Don't you remember? You say hello to me every morning and dust me off once a week.”

Now fear won out and Goofy's very soul felt as if it had become encased in ice. His fingers trembled, and for once he wished he really was as stupid as everyone believed he was, so he wouldn't have to understand what was happening. “M-Millie...What...what was your father's name?”

The poodle paused, her pretty eyes bouncing back and forth in contemplation. After a brief moment she merely shrugged. “I don't know. I don't think you've mentioned him.”

Bile began to rise in Goofy's throat, and now he could no longer control himself. He shoved Millie off of his lap, and she rolled over with a startled cry. “Who are you?” He scrambled to his feet, pressing himself to the wall, as if he was corned by a monstrosity that had come from a place he dared not imagine. “You're not Millie! Who are you?!”

Millie – the girl – whoever she was – whatever she was – slowly rose up, her once pleased face now wrinkled with confusion. “But you've always called me Millie. Isn't that who I am?”

“No!” Everything inside of Goofy hurt, but before he could even try to rationalize anything, his eyes found the necklace. A hot rage blinded him, that wound of memories now bleeding and raw. “That's not yours! Take that off! THAT'S NOT YOURS!” His hand lashed out, grabbing the necklace and snatching it off her neck, scratching the girl's neck with two harsh cuts. He was about to demand how she thought she could wear this, how much pain she planned to inflict upon him, but the girl was whimpering now, touching the injuries where spots of blood began to prickle. It was her first time experiencing pain, of many varieties. Guilt lowered Goofy's arm. “I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...”

She began to open her mouth, but Goofy knew he wouldn't be able to handle any more words. “I can't, I'm sorry, I can't... I gotta... I gotta...” Without any further explanation than that, he fled from the room, the destroyed necklace still in his hand. He burst from his house, unsure of where to go but he had to get away from there. He ran and ran and ran, confusing his neighbors when he didn't even try to say good morning. He ran until his legs gave out, letting him collapse in a patch of dry grass, not caring who, if anyone, saw him retch and cry like a sick child.

As for the girl who wasn't Millie, she was at a complete loss what to do. She sat there for a time, rubbing her sore neck, trying and failing to understand what his words had meant. Eventually she began to imitate what she would see Goofy do on a normal day – dust off his statues, make his bed, and have breakfast. She ate and ate and ate until she experienced her first stomachache, and as she sat on the dirty floor, licking an apple core between her sticky fingers, she wondered how she would, in Aphrodite's words, “Heal Goofy's heart”.

Regardless of how much pain anyone was in, the day went on, as time always does in its unforgiving and relentless way.

~*~

As Minnie had promised, she came back to Mickey's cave the very next morning. He'd still had lingering doubts she would come, but just in case, he took the longest bath he ever had. It was worth it, as she flounced into the cave without Axelia's assistance as if the place was her second home. Like day one, she asked question upon question and he gave answer upon answer.

One of those questions involved a map she was allowed to take from his wall. “Where is this?” she asked, spreading it out on the floor as Mickey hammered away, breaking up ores to find the precious minerals and stones inside.

“The coast of Izmir.” Mickey paused briefly in his work to make sure he was remembering it right. “I think. That's what the girls say, anyway.” He resumed his smashing, bits of broken rock spitting back at him. “Sometimes if I have a free day, I'll ask them to describe coasts and shorelines of other places, so I can try to draw 'em.”

Minnie lifted her head, her hands still flat on the map. “Why don't you just go to these places to see if you got them right? You're a god, aren't you? You can go anywhere you want with just a thought.”

“Aw, what do I need with other places?” He rolled his shoulder, letting the past where he did in fact long to go to those places slide down his back to be forgotten. “I got everything I need right here: Food, friends, and a furnace. Can't ask for anythin' else.”

Minnie pouted, her cute cheeks puffing out. He was a stubborn one when he wanted to be. As much as she wanted to tell him about her accomplishment with the statue, she felt it wasn't right to divulge anything about herself as long as she was keeping her name a secret. Besides, there was much more to learn about him. Maybe once she learned absolutely everything about him, she could even the score and tell him the truth. Maybe.

“Asking and wanting are two different things,” Minnie said after she placed the map back on the wall. “I bet you've wanted a lot of things!”

Mickey snorted, not bothering to raise his head as he answered. “Y'think you know me so well already? This is just day two, missy. If I say there's nothin' I want, then there's nothin' I want. What makes you think you know me better than I know yourself?”

“Because everyone wants something! It's part of what makes us who we are.” Minnie skipped to his work bench, plopping herself down beside him. “There are a lot of things I want every day. A beautiful sun in the sky, a new friend to make, and to learn lots of things I didn't know before.” She then grabbed his arm to force him to look at her, though it really didn't take that much. “Are you honestly telling me, right here and right now, there's absolutely nothing you want?”

If Mickey didn't know any better he'd swear she was implying something else, and his cheeks reddened. Of course there were things he wanted, but wanting was foolish when you would never get your desires. In the end, it only caused suffering. However, this strange feminine beauty gazing intently at him for reasons he couldn't fathom was suffering in its own way. A girl like this could kill a better man, with those gorgeous eyes of hers that – “Hey!” he realized, much to his relief to have a distraction, “Did you know your eyes change color?”

Minnie blinked rapidly, her train of thought now on a different track. “Huh? They do?”

“I think so! They were red before – now they're like, kinda orange. I dunno... Hey, Axelia!”

The Axelia he called for had been organizing his blueprints, but she stopped abruptly upon command. She walked over, arms straight at her side, waiting for further instructions. Mickey placed his hammer aside, grabbed Minnie by the shoulders with both hands, and turned her around. “What color are Minnie's eyes?”

Axelia craned her golden neck at Minnie, and the answer came in seconds. “They-Are-Black-Black-Black.”

Mickey laughed in amusement, and instead of taking up his tool again, he reached for his walking stick. “I ain't ever heard of any mortal, myth, or creature that can change their eye color! How come you didn't know you could do that?”

Minnie slid off the work bench and smoothed down her dress, although as usual there wasn't a single wrinkle to be found. “I guess everyone assumed I already knew. Now it makes me want to ask everyone I know what color my eyes are!” She giggled, wondering if Daisy saw the colors of the garden or the colors of her husband's gaze. “Didn't you say orange was your favorite color?”

“Sure did.” Though it begged the question why it had been red before – and why, on their first meeting, he'd seen blue. But if Minnie didn't even realize her eyes changed color, then it would be useless to ask her the reasons behind it. “C'mon, I want to show you to the girls. Bet they'll get a real hoot out of this.” He began to chuckle again, already imagining them squeaking like dolphins at Minnie's eyes. Maybe Minnie was something nautical like them.

As Mickey placed his walking stick under his left arm and began to hobble along, Minnie had to physically stop herself from trying to help him along. If he could create women of gold, beautiful jewelry, and weapons designed for others, why did he settle for a mere stick for disability? She tilted her head as she watched him. “Mickey, has your leg always been like that?”

Mickey stopped, though his eyes instinctively went to his twisted limb. He supposed she was bound to ask eventually, since it was his worst feature and biggest shame. “Yep. Can't move it, and can't feel most of it.” He waited to hear the inevitable follow up questions – Can't you fix it? Can't you make it work? Doesn't it bother you? Why is it like that? Why don't other gods look like that -

“Are you ticklish there?”

“No.” Wait. What? Mickey turned his head, and Minnie was at his side, all smiles and sunshine as always. “Huh?”

“Well, you mentioned seeing the girls, and I figured they've probably tried to tickle you all over before. I don't even know if I'm ticklish.” Her hands were knotted behind her back, keeping slowly with Mickey's pace as they made their way forward together. “The mermaids, the nereids...They're like your family, right?” If they were Mickey's friends and family, then she had to become their friends and family too.

Mickey wondered if he'd ever understand how Minnie's mind worked. “Ah, um, yeah. They raised me since I was a little guy. Mermaids taught me how to talk, nereids taught me how to walk. They fed me and took care of me until I could do it myself.” Though they were headed for the sunlight, Mickey's eyes stayed down, thinking of saltwater days when the girls would lay on the sand with him, holding him until he went to sleep. “I know folks think they're a bunch of dummies...but they've got good hearts. They didn't have to keep me. Makin' 'em feel prettier is the least I can do repay 'em. So – so go easy on 'em if they bother you, all right?”

Mickey thought he was simply saying the facts as they were, but Minnie could hear the depths of his appreciation and care with every sentence. The same could be said of his gifts – they were only so breathtaking because he put genuine love into each craft, trying to say with metal what he couldn't express in words. “Of course, Mickey. I would be honored to meet your precious family.”

He almost asked why, but didn't. They walked around the sharp rocks, sat upon the sandy cliffside, and Mickey taught Minnie his special whistle to summon his companions – two fingers, pinky down, sharp breath. Minnie was still practicing when bubbles began to pop up underneath their feet, followed by giggling and splashing. Once again, as had happened more times than Minnie could count, the women froze momentarily as they got an eyeful of the goddess of beauty. She waved and spoke to knock them out of their shock. “Hello, everyone! It's very nice to meet you all.”

Mickey cleared his throat and straightened his back. “All right, everyone, this here's Minnie. You treat her nice, understand? Cause I brought her here for a fun game.”

“Game, game, game, I love playing games!” “I want to play a game with pretty Minnie!”

“I'm the best at playing games and being pretty!”

“Okay, good! All you gotta do is answer one question.” Mickey gestured towards Minnie's face, making sure not to block their view. “What color are her eyes?”

“Pink! I win!” “Where do you see pink? Her eyes are purple!”

“They're green! Green, green, green!”

Perhaps Mickey had overestimated how gracious his girls would be, as instead of making it a fun guess, now they began to argue about who was right. They began to splash at each other, tugging on hair and taking sides. “Hey, hey, hey! Calm down!” He grabbed his walking stick, intending to physically split apart those he could, but when his back was turned, he heard Minnie give out a surprised “Oh!” followed by a splash.

Color drained from his face – he wanted to impress his mermaids and nereids, and now he was making a horrible impression on his new friend. “Minnie!” He whipped around, but it was too late. She'd been captured by the gaggle of girls, so one could clearly show the other Minnie's eye color. Minnie herself was unharmed, blinking away water from her eyelashes. Mickey was imagining a thousand scenarios, most of them winding up with a frustrated Minnie storming off after being humiliated and never turning up on the island again. “You – you – you fish heads! You let her go!” He waved his walking stick at them, but this was as far as he could go. With his leg the way it was, he couldn't swim.

Yet Minnie wasn't as helpless as everyone tended to think. With a smirk curling on her lips, she clapped her hands once. “Everybody wins!”

A beat of silence overcame the school of fish friends, and then an eruption of celebration squealed forth, with clapping and spinning and singing.

“I win, I win, I win!” “I won too!”

“This was the best game ever!”

With that miniature crisis over, Minnie flashed a sporting grin at her companion, but Mickey still wasn't relieved. He offered her a hand, and while she took it, she didn't pull herself out of the water. “Aw, Minnie, I, I'm so sorry! I thought they'd be better behaved than this!”

“Oh, Mickey, relax!” She squeezed his hand before letting go, letting herself float on her back. “You just have to know how to talk to them. I guess I know you and your girls better than you do after all!”

Mickey's eyes narrowed, taking the challenge. “You think so?” This girl was nuts, bonkers, and absolutely off the wall. What a nice change from his predictable lifestyle. He found a smile forming on his mouth, and he twirled his stick in the air. “Say, ladies! Minnie here doesn't know where she's ticklish!”

Minnie's eyes widened. “You wouldn't dare.”

He dared. “Why don't you all be a bunch of good girls and help her find out?” In seconds Minnie was mobbed by eager fingers and screeching laughter. It was also nice to have someone else be a target for once. Even this didn't frighten Minnie away, as she tried to return the favor and tickle back her assailants. The game eventually grew boring for some of the elders, who now wanted to dress Minnie up in pearls and seaweed, which she allowed as long as they introduced themselves.

Mickey watched without comment, chewing on his lower lip. A part of him thought that maybe, perhaps, he'd been trying to see if she would be driven away by his nautical allies – almost counting on it, because she would be driven away eventually, inevitably. She would find a reason to leave as soon as her tiara was completed. His mind worked to excuse what he saw – so, fine, she liked mermaids and nereids, but you could find them on any shore, and the world was a big place. If she wanted their company, she could go anywhere she wanted.

She would leave him. That was a fact. Minnie was kissing the foreheads of the younger mermaids and allowing an older nereid to play with her spitcurls. When they tried to give her the trinkets Mickey had made for them, she politely declined, insisting it looked much better on them. “And I wouldn't want to take away anything your dear brother gave you.”

“Brother?” The nereid adorned with green coral repeated, looking at her sisters and aunts and mothers for help. “I don't have a brother. Do I have a brother?”

Mickey raised his hand. “I think she means me.”

“Mickey's not my brother. Mickey is Mickey!”

“Mickey's not our brother or cousin or uncle or father because those are all boring.”

“We have a Mickey, and no one else has a Mickey, so we're the best.”

“Best Mickey, best Mickey, best Mickey!”

Minnie quietly glanced at Mickey, thinking she might see a hurt or pained expression, but instead he was just rolling his eyes with a knowing smile. This was not like the traditional families she saw on the mortal plane, with a pair of mothers and fathers and a set number of children. This was a family of choice, but still a family nonetheless. In their forgetful ways, they latched onto the new topic of conversation by showering Mickey with compliments and requests for more pretty accessories, playing keep away with his walking stick but being sure to never break it. With a bit more personal space now around her, Minnie swam back to the cliffside and tried to climb back up.

“I'm sorry,” Mickey mumbled, not making eye contact with her.

“About what?” Minnie asked as she began to squeeze water out of her dress.

“Y'know, them! I should've figured they'd pull some kinda stunt. They're not that bad, normally, I swear.”

“Mickey-”

“It's just - they can't help it, okay? That's what they are. I've tried teachin' 'em, but it's hard, cause they don't wanna learn.”

“Mickey-”

“You can't just snap your fingers and make seagulls change the color of their feathers, and it's like with them, you can't expect too much, you can't-”

Minnie pushed her palm against his mouth in a quick attempt to shush him. “Mickey. You don't have to make excuses for them.”

“Mmmmf?” Mickey asked, which roughly translated to “Really?”

“Yes, really. I like them. I like you. I like being here. Now will you please relax?” She made him nod by pushing his head back down, and then pulled her hand back, poking him on the nose afterward. “You don't have to apologize for them like that. Just tell me about them. Please.”

Mickey almost asked if she was entirely sure, absolutely sure, but she was giving him that funny, intense gaze again. He sucked on the inside of his cheek, trying to make himself calm down and do what she had so kindly asked. He had been ready to both defend and excuse his beach beauties much like he had felt he needed to both defend and excuse his entire being. He knew their reputation across the lands – and that it wasn't entirely unjustified – but they were his, and if no one would accept them, then good riddance to those jerks. But she was accepting them.

She was accepting of a lot of things.

Mickey cleared his throat. “Fine, then, you better pay attention, cause I'm not going to go through everyone a second time.” His eyes found the nearest girl, and he motioned to her with a point. “That there is Lydia.” Upon being named, a raven haired nereid swam forward, returning his walking stick and getting an affectionate pat on the head in return. “She's Tallia's little sister. She likes to wear things that make a lot of noise.” So evidenced by dangling hooped earrings that clinked whenever she moved her head.

“It's nice to meet you, Lydia.” Minnie placed her hands on her lap, leaning forward. “Why do you like making a lot of noise?”

“Because then it's really hard to ignore me!” Lydia yelled giddily, clapping her hands as hard as she could.

“Very well, then I will never ignore you.” She moved to flick Lydia's earrings, making them clink and clank back and forth, and Lydia kicked in the water, thrilled to bits. Mickey then introduced her older sister Tallia, then Aquata, then Calista, Andria, Rydia, one after the after, telling them how they were related, what treasures they desired, favorite moments out on the sea, who could imitate a dolphin's call, the best backflipper, so on and so forth. With each meeting, Minnie made sure to do more than greet them – she interacted, she asked questions, she complimented. She made an effort to remember each and every single one of them, which to a newcomer was no easy task. It helped that she genuinely adored them, and found them like children with grown bodies. It was, she imagined, like a new mother being introduced to the young ones of her new beau.

Having children with Mickey - wasn't that a lovely spot of fantasy! Though she had tried to tell herself that she couldn't really love Mickey without knowing all about him, her mind didn't get the message, happily wandering off to see Minnie holding a newborn with the beautiful features of both parents while Mickey was hard at work making a crib.

The parental paradise was unknowingly interrupted as Mickey kept going with, “And this is Damara.”

Damara – Damara – where had she heard that name before? Minnie slowly moved her eyes over, and her paradise turned to panic. This was indeed the exact same mermaid who, to her words, met someone who could have been Aphrodite. Had she been so caught up in romantic fantasies that this chance meeting never occurred to her? Mickey was saying something or other about how Damara liked to play pranks on mortals, despite Mickey's lectures about not doing that. But Minnie and Damara were looking right at each other, with Damara blinking at Minnie, clearly recalling a moment.

Sweat broke out on Minnie's face – she hadn't told this one her original name, right? She was so overcome with worry that her mind went blank and she couldn't remember anything. As Damara tilted her head, Minnie silently hoped that this particular mermaid didn't have a good memory and was as smart as a wad of seaweed. Mickey was oblivious to Minnie's panic attack, too focused on the mermaid in front of him. “Hey now, be polite! Don't just stare, say somethin'. Be nice.”

So Damara spoke, tugging on the ends of Minnie's dress. “Have we met somewhere before?”

“Ummm,” Minnie drew out the word, adding more “m”s in a hard attempt at thinking. So far she had never technically lied to Mickey, she had only left out certain details. But if she actually denied Damara's words, that would be a lie for real, and Minnie would be a terrible person for it. If she could help it, she would not lie to her dear Mickey or his precious family. “Yes. We have.” She winced as she spoke, her chest feeling tight.

“I knew it!” Damara clapped in victory, her head bouncing back left and right. “I knew it, I knew it! She's the one I was telling you about when I broke that “No Aphrodrite” rule!”

“You broke it again!” said a mermaid with skin as dark as night.

“I did not! I'm not talking about Aphrodite, I'm talking about a girl that could be as pretty as Aphrodite! If I was breaking the rule, I'd be saying she was Aphrodite, but she's not Aphrodite, she's Minnie, Mickey said so! I'm not breaking the rule, so I'm a good girl!”

Mickey ran a tired hand down his face. “I'm thinkin' I need to reword that rule a little. Did you have a point somewhere in there?”

This required another twenty seconds of deep thought for Damara who ultimately concluded, “Your girlfriend is very pretty.”

Just like that, Mickey and Minnie switched moods. Minnie was calm and relaxed, whereas Mickey broke into alarm. “G-G-Girlfriend?! What are you – you – you girls are as dumb as rocks, is what you are! New rule! No saying that word! And no embarrassing me!” He swiftly turned to Minnie who was smiling adorably from ear to ear. “Well – I – you said – you said not to make excuses or apologize, so, so, so I won't! But! Y'know! That's...they don't know what they're sayin'.”

“I am a girl,” Minnie pointed out, scooting in half an inch closer to Mickey's side. “And I am your friend. So, in a way, she's right.” She knew exactly what would come next, and enjoyed every second of it, even waving her finger about like a conductor's baton.

“I'm right, I'm right, I'm a smart girl!”

“Wait! This means I'm Mickey's girlfriend too!”

“We're all Mickey's girlfriends! Yay!”

Mickey wondered if his cheeks would ever return to their normal color again, as right now he couldn't stop blushing. He tried to muster up a glare at Minnie, but it was difficult. “You're enjoyin' this way too much.”

“I had to pay you back after you sent your tickle army after me.”

“Yeah, yeah, missy. You keep that up and I'll push you back in there.”

Minnie had no doubt that he would, and it all made her giggle the absurdness of everything hitting her at once. It was a contagious noise, and so to no great shock, Mickey also found himself laughing, needing to hold his stomach as it came harder and harder. Even though the mermaids and nereids didn't really get the joke, they laughed as well before they decided on more games and more questions to pester the pretty one with.

Later that day, Mickey would find another surprise – in that he spent much more time with the girls than usual that day. He wondered if Minnie's presence had anything to do with that. On a small level he was annoyed, as it meant he was now behind on all of his work, even if only by a few hours. Yet he couldn't say he'd change that day if he could. Having a second like-minded head in there made dealing with the girls a little easier. It was, dare say it, fun.

Perhaps it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if it happened again, though he still believed it was a hard “if”. Perhaps some conversations were as entertaining, if not more, than working on his projects. Perhaps Minnie was the type to change things even without meaning to. Who knew? She was a mystery, but he was in no hurry to solve it. Like the mystery of why she looked at him so strangely – it was a way he'd never seen before, and so couldn't put a word to it. Maybe it was the way the rest of the world looked at each other.

Girlfriend, however – he ought to push Damara's bracelets back a week for that stupid remark. Why, he bet she didn't even know what the word meant, and was just trying it out. Mickey knew that word was not meant for him, and to dare imply anything about that in regards to Minnie was downright insulting to her. They were friends. Unusual friends, yes, but she was unusual. Once she had her gift, she'd leave, and things would go back to normal. Whatever normal meant.

So when he laid in bed that night, he told himself he didn't care if Minnie had a boyfriend (even though he definitely did) and that he didn't care if Minnie had a thousand boyfriends (even though he doubtlessly did) and that he'd never want her as a girlfriend in a million years (even though after that popped into his head, he couldn't go back to sleep.)

But with every shift he made under the sheets, he felt his twisted leg move, and with it came the reminder of who he was, what he was, and the future that had been laid out for him the second he was born.

Pretty girls don't become the girlfriends of rejects.

~*~

Hours before Mickey would go to bed and contemplate matters of the heart and how furiously he denied them, Goofy finally went back to his house. He hadn't eaten all day, and now his stomach matched how bad his head felt. He stood in front of his dilapidated house, afraid to enter and relive the horror of that morning. Yet he also knew he couldn't stay away forever. With a giant gulp, he walked inside and opened his mouth – but what could he call her? She wasn't Millie.

The girl in question was back in the bedroom, having recently discovered one doesn't eat orange peels. As she rubbed her belly, she looked up as Goofy stepped in, and they watched each other with frightened intensity. The broken necklace was still grasped in Goofy's hand.

Eventually Goofy began the investigation, moving to sit down on the floor across from her. “You were my statue.”

She nodded, rubbing her sore neck. The bleeding had been quick, and the tedious healing process has begun. “Until the other night, yes.” Her voice was quiet, unsure of what would spark his fury again.

“What happened the other night?”

“The goddess Aphrodite came to me.” She placed her hand on her heart as she remembered the moment, rubbing the area as feeling fur and skin was still a new and exciting threshold for her. “She told me I would heal your heart. She laid her hands here, and brought me to life.”

Had Goofy somehow offended the goddess and this was his punishment? Or had the divine woman honestly believed this was a righteous action? Now Goofy was afraid of going back to the temple, lest Aphrodite's next well-meaning intentions completely destroy his sanity. But what to do now? To pray to Aphrodite to send this woman back into her marble form seemed cruel. She had life now, and no one had any right to snuff away – though one could argue no one had any right to give it, either.

After a heavy sigh, Goofy decided, “You aren't Millie. You can't ever be Millie.”

“Then...” She sat on her knees, wanting to get closer but not within striking range. “Who am I?”

Wasn't that the question of the century! Goofy scratched his head, going over the possibilities. It was not within him to toss her out into the street and fend for herself, so, ultimately, she was now his responsibility. Feeding one stomach was already hard, but there must be people worse off than he was. Until this got resolved one way or the other, he would have to do the right thing. It wouldn't be easy, and for a second he wished he was a rotten fellow, someone who could ignore it all and do what made life simple for him. But he wasn't. He never would be.

“I suppose,” Goofy said, “Until you find a name you like better, we can always call you... Agalma.” It was the Greek word for statue. Names weren't his specialty, and he did feel a smidgen silly for simply calling her what she used to be. But what else could he do?

“Agalma,” she repeated, and then said it again, “Agalma!”, letting it work on her tongue, saying it three times more before being satisfied. “It'll take some getting used to. But I don't think it's so bad. I am Agalma.”

“And I am hungry.” Goofy could hear his stomach rumbling, and spotted the orange peel in Agalma's fingers. “You ate my oranges?”

“The insides are very good, but the outsides are awful.” Agalma stuck her tongue out, as if that'd get rid of the taste. “I'm still getting used to having tastebuds. Did you know we have a lot of tastebuds?”

Already there was a glaring difference between Millie and Agalma – Millie would have never eaten someone else's food without permission. If his mind wasn't so rattled he might have found it funny. “Guess I gotta go to the market. I think it's still open.” As he began to stand up, Agalma stood up with him. “And buy another bed, I figure.”

Agalma blinked. “Why can't we share this one?”

“Reasons.” He was in no mood to explain any further than that. “Gunna need to getcha some more clothes too.” This was going to drain every last coin he had. He was going to have to find a larger, more permanent source of income fast. “I'll be back as soon as I'm able.”

The woman dared to step in closer. “Can I come with you?”

Goofy looked at her, breathing quietly through his nostrils. Could she come with him? Should she? The world was a large place, and apparently she had a lot to learn, with only a clumsy fool as a teacher. What a pitiful girl. “Better now than never, I reckon.” He took her by the hand, and began to walk her back out of the house.

For the second time that month, the villagers stopped to stare as Goofy walked with a girl far more lovely looking than they believed he deserved. Once could be fought off as coincidence or circumstance, but twice was deliberate and gave them much to think about it. On the way to the marketplace, Goofy could see Aphrodite's temple, and the glimmer from within told him someone was burning an offering, of which he had only recently learned that is what one does with them, or had lit candles to welcome people inside. As a mortal, did he have any right to ask for a proper explanation from an all knowing and all mighty goddess?

He thought of Millie, of Daisy, of Minnie, and believed they'd make much better goddesses than Aphrodite. Yet he bought another crate of peaches, because in that kind tired soul of his, he saw it as a way to say he forgave her. She had made a mistake, and he knew all about making mistakes.

As for Agalma, despite all the pain and terror she'd experienced in that day, she also wanted to make an offer to Aphrodite. They weren't pleasant experiences, but they were still experiences, and it was better than feeling nothing at all. Even if things hadn't worked out as planned, she was alive, and that was the best gift of all. No life was a mistake, not hers, and not Goofy's.

The night was cold, and they held each other's hands tighter.

#disney #fanfic #love like lava #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #goofy

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optimisticpoetrypost-blog · 6 years

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