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celestialarchon · 4 years

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The Celestial Archon

Genshin Impact x f!Reader

Prologue: Dreamy Origins

Eight archons made it out of the war. One of which, had claimed no physical territory but insisted she would live among the stars and in the dreams of Teyvat’s people. Her eyes shined as she congratulated each archon on their new purpose. Each and every god thanked her for her kindness and hard work as well as reassured her she had a safe haven in their decided territories.

Morax and Barbatos sat with the starry eyed goddess, indulging in wine. Barbatos snickered at the spell she had put on the geo archon. His eyes never left her as she rambled on. Rex Lapis was infatuated, from the way her feet never seemed to touch the ground to the flutter of her eyelashes as she grew tipsy, he was fascinated. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one enchanted by her. The onlooking adepti also found themselves pulled in by her, most of all Xiao and Ganyu.

“Ah, Lady of the Stars,” Barbatos started, smirking “I wonder if you’ll settle down now. You’ve been wandering since before the war and even now you haven’t claimed any land. Do tell, has a certain archon caught your eye? Do you plan on staying in their land?”

The woman peered at the anemo archon curiously, “I’m sorry but I don’t quite understand what you mean?”

“He’s attempting to ask if you plan on taking a lover, dear.” The lord of geo sipped on his drink, averting the eyes of the woman before him.

The eighth archons laugh was light, “It is nothing like that. I simply haven’t found my home yet. I’m not sure if I ever will, sorry to disappoint you, dear anemo god. My heart just longs for something I can’t seem to find.”

She spoke directly to the two gods, but her eyes seemed to be elsewhere. Barbatos felt his chest tighten at the sight of her melancholy eyes. He wondered if the reason the otherworldly archon always smiled was to cover up that feeling. Morax noticed her expression as well, a heavy feeling of sadness and disappointment settled over him but he wasn’t sure why.

The wind archon and geo archon continued to talk, trying to fill the sudden silence. Xiao approached the three, quietly. Sensing his presence, the space case archon looked up at him. The yaksha simply held his hand out to her, without hesitation the formerly bubbly goddess took his hand.

Xiao led her a good distance from the two male gods. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable at all. He’d always appreciated that about her, how she could sit with him and not intrude on his peace.

“Do you remember before the war when you hated those two? You were always mocking them, mocking all the gods.” Xiao broke the silence, sitting on the edge of a cliff.

“Yeah,” She sank down next to him, “I really hated the gods. I thought they were all selfish and cruel. Sometimes I still feel that way I think.”

Xiao sighed, “It must be hard to hold all that self hatred and bitterness inside you. I thought you had moved passed it, although it seems you’ve just been feigning it this entire time.”

The goddess turned to him, her eyes darkening and narrowing at him, “Adeptus Xiao, know your place.”

“I do, and it’s not under you. I serve Morax, not you. It doesn’t make a difference if you hate me for it, I merely wish you to see yourself how I see you and how the other archons see you.”

The young woman was shocked by his sharp tongue, she turned to avoid his piercing gaze. Her heart felt heavy, knowing he spoke earnestly. She jumped as his hand grazed hers, taken back by the sudden affection. Relaxing, she allowed his fingers to intertwine with hers. It was quiet, all the two could hear was their own quick heartbeats.

From afar, the other Adepti observed. Ganyu felt a bit upset that she wasn’t comforting the grief stricken goddess as well. They stood, gossiping among themselves as the two stood and made their way back to the Archons. Xiao removed his hand from the last archon’s, a light blush dusted his cheeks under the moonlight.

Morax and Barbatos were still in deep discussion when they arrived. The archons immediately stopped seeing the two approaching them, Barbatos examined the geo archon’s scowl. Jealousy radiated off of him so heavily it was almost scary. The anemo archon stood abruptly and flung himself into the arms of the celestial archon, pretending to be far drunker than he was.

Both of the lovesick men had to refrain from yanking the anemo archon off of her and tearing him to shreds. The eighth archon was completely oblivious to the tension, consoling the drunken Barbatos. Cloud Retainer chuckled at the sight before her.

“We should be careful of that one, she might start another war,” Madam Ping huffed.

As the sun began to rise, the mysterious goddess excused herself. She insisted she had to go, promising she’d return for another drink soon. Liyue and Mondstat’s war heroes bid her goodbye. Only later would they wish they would’ve stopped her. After centuries without her mischievous smile and bright eyes, those who saw her last goodbye came to regret not pulling her back to them. Without leaving a single trace of herself, the Celestial Archon vanished.

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Mona was abnormally anxious, clearly unsettled. The stars were shifting and in a massive way. Something big was coming and it was giving her a headache. Anxiety and excitement coursed through her veins. Very few people knew of the existence of the eighth archon, as an astrologist she was incredibly invested in the history of the Archon of the Sky.

“When a storm of stars comes to pass,” Mona whispered to herself, “The Celestial Archon will make their return.”

She stood and quickly went to Jean. A meeting needed to be called between Mondstat and Liyue. Both archons were well acquainted with the spacial god, and only those in Liyue and Mondstat could be trusted.

At the mention of the celestial archon, both parties came to meet with grace and speed. It was tense as Mona escorted the beloved traveler to the wide room that sat between the two countries. The astrologist bowed in respect to the two Archons, seated above the others. She recounted her findings and sat back as those around her began to discuss the matter at hand. She began to space out, mind fuzzy and filled only with thoughts of the missing archon.

“We’ll protect the Celestial Archon!” Aether’s exclamation brought Mona back to reality.

“A storm of stars,” Zhongli mumbled, hands flying to his head as he tried to comprehend the information thrown at him.

“I wonder what it could mean,” Venti’s eyes twinkled.

The room was buzzing at the mere concept of an eighth archon. Lisa had taken notes and began to share them with Jean and the wise Ningguang. Theories and plans began to fly, preparations needed to be made. Celestial powers had been long forgotten but were about to make their return.

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Aether and Paimon had been busy. Preparing for the Celestial Archon was even more tedious than festival preparations and activities. Finally, after a month of laying groundwork, the outlander and his companion were free to rest. The blonde giggled at the chubby flying toddler stuffing her face. She was exhausted and cranky after making the trek from Liyue to Mondstat. Her chubby hands angrily snatched another snack from the boy, she scowled at him as she chewed.

Aether sighed and glanced up at the midnight sky. The cliffs no longer blocked the moonlight and clear stars. Paimon glanced up, letting out excited oohs and ahs. A gasp escaped the teenager’s mouth as a star shot across the sky, he clasped his hands together and made a wish. He closed his eyes briefly.

He willed it with all his heart to see Lumine once again. Paimon suddenly shrieked and Aether immediately opened his eyes and pulled his sword out. The fairy like girl was pointing at the sky. Aether’s eyes widened in shock and wonder as the stars fell in curtains. What started off as a shooting star, became a meteor shower.

“Wait a minute,” Paimon started but was cut off by a bright light.

Aether gulped, “That star is getting really close isn’t it?”

Paimon screamed as Aether grabbed her and shot himself backwards to avoid getting hit by a fragment of space. The light grew brighter than he could handle and his hand flew to his eyes. Roaring filled his ears as the path before him was illuminated and the crash that occurred must’ve been heard for miles.

The traveler opened his eyes as the brightness finally dimmed. He nearly shot back again seeing a strange young woman sprawled out on the ground. Paimon gasped as the beautiful woman’s eyes fluttered open.

“Is this the Celestial Archon?” Aether approached her cautiously, mumbling.

“Teyvat.” She whispered, ignoring his question.

With that one word, she fell unconscious. She slipped into a dreamy sleep.

#Celestial Archon Series #genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x reader #master diluc #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #genshin liyue #genshin mondstadt #genshin mona #genshin impact albedo #albedo x reader #genshin lisa #genshin ningguang #ganyu

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luna-paradoxz · 4 years

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Time spent between an Eternity.

Summary - Ganyu and Xiao's little snippets as they spent time between there eternities.

And if you want to support me you can donate on Ko-fi or commission me.

The first time she met him, she shrunk away in fear and hid behind the long tails of Guizhong's skirt. The kind goddess silently laughed as she put a gentle hand on top of her head and tried to coax her out, but she was trembling as she fixed herself tightly on her leg. Xiao had only scoffed and left, his golden eyes holding deep emotions that she only later understood in life. Later, she found out his name and the fact he is one of the Yaksha's that Rex lapis brought among them. She remembers Lady Guizhong's soft voice as she explains to her about Xiao,

"Ganyu, Xiao's eyes are scary but that is because he is a hurt soul. Even though his hands can kill anyone, he holds a kind heart. The heart that wishes to protect the weak and slay the evil.' She smiled gently at her, "Trust that boy Ganyu, he is someone you can trust.'

The second time they met was when she was playing around with Guizhong and other human kids in the glaze lillies fields. He walked in, clothes coated in blood as he panted slightly. From of him was Rex lapis, looking immaculate as he always did but she could smell the blood on him even with flowers surrounding them. She and the other kids had hidden behind the kind goddess as she got up and checked on the two of them. The adults talked in slow voices, words she couldn't understand as a child. The human kids had shrivelled up and stayed completely behind, away from there eyesight while Gnayu getting curious snuck a peek and meet Xiao's golden eyes again. She shrunk back but again glanced, curiosity filling her as she wondered what happened to the two of them. The boy looked hurt as he looked away, around the beautiful flower field and yet his eyes didn't reflect that beauty. Ganyu stared, her pink eyes staring at his whole image as she took a step forward but instead of encouragement Guizhong picked her up, her face pulled in a scary emotion. She tried to smile but the girl can see the trouble in her eyes.

"Ganyu why don't you take kids back to the town and head to Cloud retainer?" She asked gently, the girl tilted her head in confusion, "It is time for your training child." Her head was patted gently and that calmed her down as she nodded and then run away not noticing there troubling looks as the adults prepared for yet another battle.

The third time they met she saw a blood trail and followed it to find him, resting behind a huge tree, hiding from everyone, she was not aware of this so curious the little child went near him, noting his wounds and now completely worried. He was very bloody and was panting and sharply turned towards her when he noticed her. The lance was put down as he took her in and ignored her expecting her to run away as usual whenever she saw any of Yakshas, especially him. The girl instead stayed, staring at him with wide worried eyes but he can feel her fear as she stays grounded two feet away from him. He sighed, he needs to patch up his wounds, he doesn't have time to deal with a scared child. He was going to get up when she started suddenly running to him in a burst of energy, he was shocked as she tripped and barrelled down the small slope. He got up to watch as she got covered in yellow leaves, she got up sniffing slightly but instead of crying she again looked towards him, determined pink eyes as she ran back uphill and came to a screeching stop in front of him. He bent down, only a bit worried for her, he had seen Guizhong talk to her like this so he came to her eye level and waited. She pushed white Qingxin flowers in front of him, he took them too surprised to say something, she then gently but slightly shakingly put a hand on his bloody arm, her pearly white hands turning red as she took a step further in and he flinched slightly.

In a small voice she started singing and then said "Pain, pain go away," She looked up expectantly at him, he stared back confused. Her face fell as she pitifully explained, "Guizhong sings this song when I am in pain and Cloud retainer says eating food makes you healthy." Tears gather in her pure pink eyes "I was not able to make the pain go away."

He sighed in slight annoyance, but really he was not that annoyed actually. This is the first time some has done well something like this. He is not sure what all of this is though, another sigh. She is innocent, he remembers Rex lapis words, they are fighting this war to protect the weak people of Guizhong, he lets out a final sigh and in a slow gruff voice says, "My pain has gone away, it doesn't hurt." It is so embarrassing as he flushes slightly but looks at her hoping she stopped crying.

Her whole face brightens up as she glows in happiness, the kind he has never seen or experienced, she immediately let's go and starts patting him everywhere repeating the mantra, and he silently hisses hoping she won't notice. She is happy and excites and he can't believe one sentence can make someone so happy, mortals were really foolish. As he ruminated on these new feelings, Guizhong finally found him and glared at him when she approached him, his lance in his hand causing the little girl to stop and turn towards the kind goddess who immediately noticed her in surprised and then gleefully smiled as she came near her and patted her and crouched down too.

"Now, what have you been up to Ganyu?" She asked gently, by now the little girl was covered in blood-red as she pulled her hands next to her and happily explained what she did. The goddess laughed as she turned to him and he turned away flushing slightly. The goddess patted her horns as she praised her and then "Now, child run to Cloud retainer and clean yourself. I will handle getting Xiao back to the city." The child nodded and ran away. He saw her little finger now in white and red running away, he looked away something budding in him.

The goddess turned to him with a kind smile, "Thank you Xiao for protecting her kindness. This world is as harsh as it is." She looked pained as she twirled a little dust in her palm.

He huffed and only replied "Don't you dare utter a word to anyone else, Lady Guizhong." She laughed.

In a beautiful field of glaze Lillies, surrounded in their sweet smell as they all bloomed open in the moonlight, kind goodness laid in the hands of her Rex lapis still smiling kindly, blood oozed from her wounds but she seemed to not mind as she uttered her final words. The adepti stood several feet away unable to har her but didn't dare move further in, they knew their archon needed to hear her final words alone. Ganyu cried while on her knees, the only Adeptus who was crying as she grieved there dying goddess, a goddess they all loved. She wanted to run in her arms, to hug the beautiful Guizhogn one last time but Xiao had stopped her by shaking his head and stood beside her as they all saw her bod farewell to this world. She cried, her beautiful tears running down in her pale bloody hands as the watched the goddess turn into her beloved dust now flowing in the wind to Celestia. Ganyu and Xiao first time felt grief as a heavy painful emotion, and over the centuries lost more and more adepti as the archon war cam to close and the city of Liyue was established.

Rex Lapis formed contracts binding the alive adpetii for there life to the region of Liyue, Gnayu stood up as she pledged her contract and walked towards the there new beloved city of Liyue while adepti all took section in the sacred forests of Jeyuen Krast. A cyro vision appeared in her hands as she smiled in painful remembrance and planted the first glaze Lillies in the city of Liyue.

Xiao has been working for 6 centuries and he will probably work till eternity until the day someone kills him. Eternity was small for adeptii though and he too spent it working and overseeing Liyue as its guardian Yaksha, it was nothing new to his time just passing but it was not the same for the others especially a Half – Qilin who felt mortal emotional a bit too strongly. Ganyu was a workaholic in every sense of the world, whenever their paths crossed she was working, he never saw her take rest. The few times of rarity where he did catch her resting, it was mostly sleeping under a tree or spending time with cloud retainer. They also kept far and few between the decades spent in fulfilling their contract. Still, he was the last person to chastise her for working so hard, he too never took a rest after all. It was probably a year ago when e actually slept. Still, he does believe he takes a bit more rest than her. Since the years have passed and the land has started healing, his work has dwindled. The humans grow to prosper and the ages of gods are ending, with that so does the Karma decrease. So he has been resting more in these past decades, in turn, her work increases.

He sits on top of a cliff as he looks down to the newly constructed Yujing terrace, the smell of glaze lillies and silk flowers is the first thing that hits and he feels his mouth twitching in a half-smile. She has really not changed, he thinks as he nods toward madame Ping who smiles at him with the same family smile and turns around t look towards the blue hair maiden that instructs the humans on some mortal work. Things that don't make sense, if he remembers correctly she has been made the secretary of Yuhei pavilion, a body of mortals that overlook the mortal affairs in Liyue. He doesn't care how humans take care of there city as long as they don't trespass on their land or do something foolish that goes against Rex lapis's decree.

Just as he thought of him, the archon himself comes and stands beside him as always his gaze looking far away even when he takes in the Liyue of right now.

"I want her to take rest, Xiao. Even if she is an adeptus, it is far too much work for one person." Though a request for the yaksha, it was the same as an order. He nods but Rex lapis shakes his head, "I want her to do it on her own accord but the more I seem to say the more it backfires. I am out of options so I called you." Xiao looks up towards the golden eyes, Rex lapis let him stare in his eyes and look up towards him. He raises an eyebrow in question, neither of them were that close especially since she moved to live with the humans.

"She has a lot of respect for you so I believe she will listen to your advice and -" he sighs " - won't take it to mean something it is not." Xiao sighs and shakes his head. He doesn't know what happened but since the centuries passed Ganyu has been turning more and more human, just like when she was but a small child. He guesses it's the influence of those mortals. He shakes his head and then nods. He puts away his lance, with Rex lapis behind him, he can always rest. He gets up and jumps down towards her. She immediately smells him and dismisses the humans, who watch him in awe and fear as they disperse quickly, now the terrace is silent and that makes him happy. He hates the human's endless chatter in their hordes.

"Oh, Xiao what made you come here?" She knows his distaste of crowded places so she is quite surprised to see him in the middle of the city.

He nods towards where Rex lapis was and only says "You have been given a break." He doesn't give her a chance to say as he turns around and says "Let's go."

She gets flustered but Xiao would rather move out of the city now, he can feel all those pesky little stares of humans. He doesn't wait for her response and jumps in the wild wind. It takes a few minutes for her to get her wits before she too starts running behind him, without the use of anemo she is slower than him so he makes sure he is good ways from the city before stopping, crossing his hands and waiting for her. She appears in a huff, her face red and she pants as she looks up to him in confusion and a bit of anger. He silently smirks.

"Xiao please explain what is all this? Why did you take me out of the city?" She asks.

"You followed me." He points out, she pouts, he dismisses the voice that calls her cute and instead says, "Rex Lapis ordered me to get you to rest no matter what so that's what I am doing. If you didn't follow me I was just going to take you out of there."

She looks shocked as he straightens up, "I just cant suddenly leave my work. There is so much to do, the new year taxes, then the new implantation of mora as a trading tool and the new trading ports and –" her eyes start swirling and he rolls his eyes, he agrees with what Rex lapis said she is getting obsessed.

"Ugh come on. The city won't collapse just because you didn't show up for work one day." She tries to say something but he doesn't care, he picks up her and jumps. She almost screams before they reach the sky and she has to bit it back. His hands are warm she notes distractingly as he jumps toward Jeyuen Krast and she tries to say something but the wind absorbs her voice and all she can do is wait for them to touch solid ground again.

"Xiao I cant believe you would do that. What if I had moved around, you could have dropped me." He rolls his eyes, she is standing there with her arms crossed and a glare on her face. He is sure it's supposed to be threatening but well – it's not. She looks like a small animal trying to appear big, like a cat or hamster he thinks as he nods along with her scolding and they walk down the stream to Nantaimen. She stops when they reach the blue tree, she doesn't remember but he remembers the archon that was buried under there very well. She sighs, giving up, knowing he was not listening to a word and they make way to the big tree.

She smiles as she hears the rustle of the tress and feels the caress of the tress against her skin. She doesn't want to agree but they were right she was too tired. He sits against the bark of a tree, under the shade and pats the seat beside him. She nods and sits down, prim and proper while he pulls out his lance and rests it against his other shoulder. She takes a deep breathe and rest against the tree, she has heard stories about the tree and truly it still feels alive today, nonetheless, it's a majestic tree. The sum moves and shades fall on the plain, golden flowers come to life and she plucks one, she was not allowed to eat them and they don't smell but they are still beautiful. She holds one as she closes her eyes and takes rest.

He watches her fall into sleep, makes a mental note to wake her up in 5 hours and then to closes his eyes and leans against the tree of the archon they once defeated.

The Washung inn is not far from the harbour but it's a secluded place and that suits Xiao fine. She knows the Yaksha has dwelled in the inn since the very start, she accepts this. It will better comfort for him than the bark of a tree. Naturally, she sets up regular payments for the costs of his living, the owners try to refuse but Ganyu insists she knows how much business is important and she too must follow their rules. She also makes sure to hand the adeptii, especially him some mora every month so they can come down to the city and towns if they feel like it. So far only Xiao comes sometimes to eat his favourite almond tofu or sometimes other dishes that the yakshas once loved. He still honours them in his own little ways.

The inn faces the Dihua Marsh, the place where once a huge field of glaze Lillies bloomed but now centuries later it was a marsh where glaze lillies rarely grew. For a few centuries, she had refused to enter the area but now she frequents there to take care of the lilies that actually thrive there and pick some up and plan them in Yujing terrace. Today she walks under the moonlight, a smile on her face as she bends down to a bloomed lillie and sings a long-forgotten song. She is sure no mortal has ever heard of this song, but it is tradition even if no one observes it anymore. A long-forgotten habit of the goddess of dust. She feels sad as she remembers the kind smile of Guizhong. If only she was here then maybe she wouldn't feel so lonely. She takes a shuddering breathe when the wind bursts around her and she turns to the lone Yaksha standing there.

His face is a hard line as he looks at her with a disapproving glare, gone was the kind Xiao of centuries ago, the more his Karma grows, the more she sees him turning more hardened and pained. She wishes she could save him but she knows she doesn't have that kind of power. She bows a little as she explains,

"I was just pickup up some glaze lillies Xiao."

He shakes his head, "You know the karma of this land has been messed up since I have started living here. You shouldn't be wandering around her at night."

She sighs, she knows he thinks she has grown soft but Ganyu is still strong enough to take care of herself "I can take care of me, Xiao. I have my bow with me."

He doesn't look convinced and before she can argue he just says in finality "Finish picking them up, I'll drop you till the harbour then."

She stares at him and smiles sadly, looks like he is still as kind as he was once, somewhere deep down buried under his pain. She nods and the rest of the night they spent together and Xiao will never mention in but whenever she sang, the voices recced in his head, the night felt calmer than he has felt in ages.

Rex lapis has died and Ganyu wants to curl up and cry like she was a child, like nothing in the world existed anymore and only her grief was there. She couldn't do that though, her contract, her responsibilities won't allow that. She must fulfil her contract to Rex lapis no matter what even if he is gone, gone away from them just like Guizhong. She took a shuddering breath and got back to work. The rite of passing came though and she knew what she must go to say her farewells, she will only get one chance, while his soul remains here she must say her farewells. So Ganyu decides to get glaze lillies, she sighs, her voice breaking. She doesn't wanna say farewells but she continues picking them up and then runs into the traveller she feels a bit more stabilised. She was an adeptus, she could find strength in front of humans. Still, they leave and all that is left is her, only two glaze lilies in her hand and the painful solitude of Dihua marsh. The wind gently rustles against her as Xiao appears before her. His face is contorted in pain as he glares at her,

"Who killed him?" He growls out the question but Ganyu is not scared, she is breaking apart and she wishes he would just say her to shut up and do her work. He does not instead he waits for the answer that they will never know about.

"The fatui, most likely. Only harbingers possess such power." She answers, his lance glows green but Ganyu shakes her head. "You can't Xiao we don't know for sure."

"And what are you suggesting I sit down and talk to them like mortals. Don't be foolish."

She glares back "We are not sitting down, we are trying our best to bring them in but this is a humans affair we can't interfere."

"They killed Rex lapis and you still say it is a humans affair!"

She feels something break, as tears start flowing from her eyes, she hates this, she hates this so much. She too wanted to break her contract, she too wanted to kill that person and yet she can't. The contract binds them and they must follow it no matter what. "Do you think I didn't want to do that very thing? Do you think I don't want to kill the humans myself who dared to hurt Rex lapis but contracts must be followed! Our contract with Rex lapis must always be held onto no matter what!" She screams. That has been the only thing that has been keeping her sane these past few days, her contract, there contract, Guizhong wishes to always protect the fragile humans that she loved the most.

He stares at her, his glare softening as he takes a step near her and pulls her in, letting her cry out on his shoulder. "We will find him, Xiao, we will. We too, people of Liyue won't let them get away." He nods and looks at the moon illuminating the marsh, he remembers the words of the bygone goddess. A goddess that was too kind for there world,

'I want to protect those fragile creatures from everything. They can so easily be blown away, just like dust I want us to protect them.'

They must always uphold there contract with Rex lapis.

She smiled as she snuggles near him, he pulls her, his warm arms wrapped around her as she settles comfortably and falls to sleep. The tree is well hidden but when a certain funeral parlour consultant catches them Xiao smiles slightly and asks him to be silent. The man, now a mortal closes his eyes in peace and nods as he walks away from the scene. Xiao watches her sleep, today too he had all but kidnapped her away to make her rest for the day and he remembers seeing the little smirk on the Qixing who had only asked him to bring her back before 8.

He gruffs, they were not her parents.

He looks up at the green surrounding them and the sun. The eternity hasn't passed but it seems that it won't be so lonely as they had first thought.

A/N - Another one-shot for the lovely couple. I love them so much and I am sorry guys I am writing the other stories but I just need to write a few fics for them first.

If you like my writing and wish to support me in some way, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi, /luna2572, or you can also commission me. You can dm me or visit my Tumblr to get the details.

Don't forget to review, favourite and/or follow.

Xoxoxo, Luna.

#my writing #xianyu #ganyu x xiao

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mypassionfortrash · 5 years

Text

Nothing Serious (Part Nine)

You join Roger in Montreux as Queen prepare to record their next album, and spend time exploring the city... and each other.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x f!reader Warnings: Filth, daddy kink, STRICTLY 18+ Notes: I forgot about this. Sorry. If you like this fic, please reblog it!

💫 CATCH UP HERE! 💫

Tags: @jennyggggrrr; @sarahgurl09; @sunshine112; @biscuit-barrel; @sitonmyhot-seatoflove; @jhoemazzellhoe; @justgivemethekeys; @qweenly; @picturepowderinabottle

You and Roger sat in the back of the car in stunned silence. You had your nosed pressed up against the glass, admiring the view of Lac Leman.

Roger admired you admiring the view.

From the snowy peaks of the alps on the French side, to the cobbled streets and cosy bars in Lausanne, Vevey and Clarens, you were positively enthralled on the journey from Geneva Airport to Montreux.

You and Roger didn’t even have to make proper, joined up conversation. All he had to do was listen to your awe struck outbursts, pointing out yet another feature he had probably seen many times before on his way to Mountain Studios. Every now and again, he’d give your fingers a supportive squeeze, letting you know that he heard you.

There was something about Montreux alone; above all the other towns you passed on your journey. Something magical. Something that you just couldn’t put your finger on. It made your fears disappear and your worries drift away; home felt like a distant memory. It soothed you with blue skies, and sprawling lake views, and mediterranean-looking buildings with pastel facades and ornate balconies.

“We’re almost there.”

You turned to Roger, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. “This is more beautiful than you said.”

“We should go exploring later,” he said, brushing his fingers over your thigh. “There’s a lot of nice little bars and restaurants here. We’ll be staying a block away from the studio. Right about… here,” he said nodding towards a block of bright yellow apartments with stacks of generous balconies. To your right, they offered sprawling lake views against a backdrops of snow-tipped mountains. To your left, you had to crane your neck just to spy the top of the densely-populated hillside.

“Oh,” you sighed, admiring the building and all its exquisite views, “it’s stunning.”

“They really are. You can’t beat a bottle of wine and watching the sun set from up there.”

“It’s perfect for it,” you said, getting out of the car and opening the boot, much to your chauffeur’s dismay. “It’s fine, I’ve got this,” you told him, carting your luggage out and on to the pavement.

“She’s got it,” Roger laughed, taking his own suitcases. “Thank you.”

Standing at the door to the building, you and Roger exchanged excited glances and bolstering sighs, before linking your fingers together. Wandering into the lobby, the atmosphere struck you. It looked and smelled like money and excess and opulence, with shiny slate grey flooring and clean white walls. There were no chandeliers or gold trims. It was a modern kind of rich. A sickening, classy kind of rich. That you actually kind of liked.

A petite, brunette receptionist greeted you both: “Bonjour Monsieur Taylor. Et Madame.”

“Bonjour, Gaudine,” Roger said, wandering over to the desk. “Do you have my key?”

“Oui – voila!” she said, handing Roger the key. “We’ve cleaned the apartment and it’s ready for your stay. We have put champagne in your fridge and done a bit of shopping so that you have everything you need. If you need anything, just call.”

“Merci beaucoup, Gaudine,” Roger smiled, placing his hand at the small of your back and leading you towards the lift.

You pressed the button and the door slid open in a moment of slick convenience. When the pair of you got inside, you slumped against opposite sides of the compartment, swapping wild grins. You could tell from the way Roger’s eyes devoured every detail of your body that he was dreaming up everything he was going to do to you once you got to the flat.

Roger chewed his lip. His breath laboured. Pinpricks of desire seared from his chest to his cheeks, flushing him a delightful shade of pink. As the lift ascended, so did his need and his lust. And when the door finally pinged open, he grabbed your arm and hauled you down the corridor towards the flat.

Discarding your bags at the door, you pounced on him, sending his back flying against the wall.

But he was swift to take control, turning around and hiking your thighs up around his waist making you cling to him for dear life. “You didn’t put your knickers back on, did you?” he purred in your ear.

You were too busy undoing his jeans to answer him; his cock already stood at attention, thick, intimidating and ready to slip into the next available hole.

“You dirty girl.” Slipping his cock through your pink, swollen folds, Roger pushed into you.

Feverish and urgent, you ground your hips against his grasp as you gasped at being filled so deliciously again. The sharp, snappy rhythm he settled into made you clench around him.

“What are you Kitten?” Roger growled.

In the throes of delirium, you couldn’t find the words to respond to him. You could only bear to focus on his cock, pumping away at you. In deep, wet passes, he bottomed out inside you time and time again. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, and his neck, and his hair to find something to cling on to to steady yourself. But he was all the support you needed with his body pressed tight against you. He was all over you.

His chin nestled into your neck, biting down on your skin, rougher and more ravenously with each thrust. “Touch yourself for me, Kitten,” he growled in your ear. “I want to feel that tight cunt of yours milking my cock when you come.”

If those words of his were enough to shoot sparks of bliss straight between your legs, then god knows what your fingers coupling with his efforts might do to you, you thought as you mindlessly started to draw circles over your clit. An almighty whine escaped you. So loud that you prayed the walls were thick enough to stop the neighbours hearing. And then another. And another. You had to fight to stifle them on Roger’s neck as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through your aching body as you tried to stay clinging to Roger. Quiet whimpers, of “yes Daddy,” or, “right there, Daddy,” were absorbed by the collar of his shirt. And that only made his movements more purposeful as you writhed uncontrollably.

“Good girl,” he coaxed. “Come for me, Kitten. Come for Daddy.”

You frantically rubbed and rubbed until your cunt milked Roger’s cock for every drop of cum he could fill you with.

Roger had to prop you up until you caught your breath and regained some semblance of control.

“You alright, darling?” he chuckled, kissing your forehead.

“Yes, Daddy–Roger! Sorry,” you sighed, smoothing down your dress and clenching your thighs together.

Roger shook his head with a smirk. “We’ll be having more of than now we’re out here. And I love it when you get all awkward on me, Kitten,” he said, fixing your hair for you. “The bathroom’s there on your right. Clean yourself up and I’ll show you the rest of the flat.”

“Yeah,” you said dreamily, sauntering through to the bathroom. You locked the door behind you and eyed yourself in the mirror with a jolt of horror. Had you really walked through Geneva airport with your hair sticking up in all directions and your mascara caked underneath your eyes? Or the buttons on your dress all askew and misaligned? And those mysterious stains at the back? You clearly hadn’t done as good a job of cleaning yourself up on the plane as you thought you had. And why didn’t Roger tell you? “Fuck,” you laughed to yourself, dragging out a tuft of tissues and bending over the sink to get a better view of your misplaced makeup.

You swiped the tissues underneath your eyes, smearing the thick black gunk off your face. And then you turned your attention towards the rest of your body. Flying had a habit of drying out your skin and making you feel like the grossest thing on two legs; you could practically feel the slurry of germs that crawled all over your body.

In the corner of the room, by the back window that looked out on to the alpine view, stood a sparkling red bath tub. It called out to you, promising that you could be clean in no time.

“Roger!” you shouted.

You heard shuffling coming from outside the bathroom door. “Yes, Kitten?”

“Can you go through my bags and get me something nice to wear and my wash bag please?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Thanks,” you said, flicking off the lock on the door. Setting about throwing off your dress and your bra, you leaned over the tub and put the tap on, sending water cascading into it. Above the tub, there were columns of black and white shelves, stocked with all the expensive looking lotions and potions anyone could ever need. You saw one interesting looking jar, like something out of a sweet shop, bearing the label, ‘pine and patchouli bath salts.’ That would do. You grabbed the bottle and dumped a capful into the boiling hot water. And then went back to eying up the rest of Roger’s accoutrements.

It turned out he was a big fan of lavender and sage, too; you grabbed the soap and the lotion, not caring if they matched your bath salts. And then the bubble bath. How could you forget that? Throwing a generous splodge into the water, you looked down, like a witch admiring her brew, as the bubbles doubled.

“I see you’ve found my spa stash,” a voice from behind you chuckled.

You turned to find Roger laying out towels and a set of pyjamas on the bench at the bathroom door.

“Sorry, I needed something after that flight. I haven’t forgotten what you told me about what Steven Tyler gets up to in that plane.”

“Those salts are fantastic when my shoulders are acting up,” he commented with a nod towards the sweetie bottle.

“Do you want to join me, Daddy?” you asked. You felt emboldened again, running your hands up Roger’s chest, making sure you squeezed his aching shoulders. They were still tense, but surely not out of sexual frustration, you thought to yourself.

“Could do with a quick dunk,” Roger shrugged. He watched as your fingers unfastened the buttons on his shirt one by one. His voice shook from the contact. “Why don’t I get that lovely bottle of champagne from the fridge?”

“Be quick,” you warned, giving him a pat on his bare chest. “I’m not done with you yet, Daddy.”

Roger moved faster than you had ever seen him go, taking him all of thirty seconds to pluck the bottle of champagne from the fridge and locate a couple of glasses in the kitchen, before he returned to find you already sitting comfortably in the tub, stretching out your legs under a blanket of soft, heady bubbles.

“Do you want to do the honours, Kitten?” he asked, handing you the bottle.

“Don’t mind if I do, Daddy,” you purred, taking it from his grasp. You watched with your hand wrapped tightly around the neck of the bottle as Roger shuffled out of the rest of his clothes, sporting the beginnings of yet another hard on, and stepped into the tub in front of you. You flicked your eyes to his as you bit your lip, sending a visible shiver through him. That raging confidence you had in the beginning was back with a vengeance and nothing was going to stop you from making your time in Montreux as memorable, and as debauched, as you could. “Ready, Daddy?”

Roger woke up in a pile of white silk sheets. The sheer curtain billowed into the room in smoky swathes in time to the cool lakeside breeze, wafting wisps for freshly brewed coffee into the room. He groaned, propping himself up on his elbows to take in the sight of the empty room. You were nowhere to be seen. The culprit for all of his aches and pains, bestowed upon him the night before, was gone. “Darling?” he groaned, sitting upright and scratching his chest. His head pounded and his vision hadn’t quite acclimatised to seeing daylight. “You there?”

Shuffling came from the balcony, then you peeked into the room. Only half of your body was visible to him, as you leaned against the door frame.

“Good morning, Daddy.”

Roger’s lips curled into a devilish smirk. The thoughts of everything you got up to on your first night together in Montreux raced through his brain so vividly that his hips got the message straight away. He tilted his head back and eyed you through his lashes as you stepped into the room. “Good morning, Kitten,” he purred.

Perching at the end of the bed, you dragged a hand up Roger’s leg over the sheets. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Sore,” he laughed, giving his shoulder a rub.

You pouted and pondered. “Let me get you a lovely big cup of coffee and I’ll help you work out all those aches and pains,” you said, continuing to massage Roger’s leg.

“That sounds lovely, darling, thank you.”

You wandered back through to the balcony and poured Roger some coffee. So enthralled by your surroundings, the cup almost overflowed. From the way the mid morning sun shimmered over the lake to the snowy peaks of the mountains. This was heaven. And it felt a million miles away from home – and Ibiza. You relished that feeling of giddy optimism as you carried the cup back through to the bedroom to find that Roger was missing.

“Where are you, Roggie?” you called, peering out into the hall.

“Brushing my teeth,” Roger responded through a mouthful of toothpaste. He spat so he could speak more clearly. “And making myself more presentable for you, my love.”

“Don’t be too long,” you grinned, settling down among the covers.

When he arrived back at the bedroom, he hobbled towards you, clutching his aching hip, and pressing at the small of his back. His hair was mussed and messy, and he wore nothing but a short, silk, tiger print robe. And his circular glasses sat daintily perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted, but that didn’t stop you from eagerly patting the space beside you and thrusting the cup of coffee into his hands to get started on the fun part of your morning.

You slunk behind him, wrapping your legs around his body and pressing your chest to his back, dragging the fine layer of material from his body. It slipped down his arms, leaving his top half completely naked under your touch.

Tension radiated from Roger’s body as he sank another mouthful of rich, black coffee to stifle his nerves.

Your fingertips pressed against either side of his back, where his shoulders met his neck and he moaned in bliss. “Sore there?” you asked.

“Mmm, I’m really showing my age, aren’t I?” he laughed.

“Lucky for you, I think there’s something about senior citizens I find particularly alluring,” you joked, working at the knots on his shoulders.

“Fat wallets?”

“Well, I mean, it helps. But fat something else,” you replied.

“God you’re filthy.”

“It’s your fault,” you said, rubbing his back extra hard to make him squeal.

Roger’s voice faltered, coming down from the bolt of pain, quickly succeeded by the loosening of one of the pressure points on his back. “Oh, why’s that?” he asked.

“I used to be an angel before I met you. And now? All I care about is private jets, champagne and getting shagged anywhere, anytime. How’s that for a change.”

Roger leaned back against you, pinning you between himself and the headboard as he looked up at you with his big tired doe eyes. “Well, for what it’s worth, I quite like the new you, Kitten.”

“Is that right?” you laughed, tickling your fingernails over his chest. “How’s your back feeling?”

“Much much better. I swear you’ve got magic hands.”

“And what’s on our agenda for today?”

“I was hoping I could show you around,” he smiled. “We’ve got a whole day before everyone else gets here. And we won’t have a moment to ourselves afterwards.” Then his voice descended into a naughty, mischievous whisper: “So I was hoping, if you’ll let me, we could make the most of it and be absolute heathens for the rest of the day.”

You placed a long, drawn out kiss to the top of Roger’s head and squeezed him tightly. “That sounds absolutely perfect. Especially the part about us being heathens. That suits us down to a tee, don’t you think, Daddy?”

“It really does, Kitten.”

“Well, I’m going to go and get myself ready,” you explained, untying the front of Roger’s robe to reveal his cock, resting against his stomach. Hard and fully erect. “And you can take care of that.”

“Can’t you do it for me?” Roger pouted. “That mouth of yours looks awfully tempting.”

“I’ll tell you what,” you began, “why don’t I let you know when you’re allowed to take care of it? See how long you last?”

“Oh you’re cruel,” he sighed, watching you slip off the bed and wander over to the wardrobe.

Searching through your clothes to find the optimal outfit to tease Roger in, you glanced over your shoulder. He was still sitting there, looking down at his cock, wondering whether he’d risk disobeying you. “I wonder what you’re like when you’re all needy,” you pondered.

“And what happens if I get myself off anyway?”

“I don’t think you want to know, Daddy. You’re right – I can be very, very cruel.”

Dressed and ready to face the day, you and Roger stepped out into the August sunshine. Midday wasn’t far around the corner and the sun bathed the promenade in a brilliant orange glow. Arm in arm, the pair of you strolled down towards the shimmering blue lake.

You turned your head as you walked, catching the smug grin plastered on Roger’s features. Moving closer to him, you purred in his ear. “You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself there, Roggie.”

“I’m out in my favourite town with the woman of my dreams. Why wouldn’t I be pleased with myself?” His voice was hushed, but jovial.

“I think you’ve been naughty, Daddy,” you whispered, leading Roger along the promenade towards the marketplace. “We can’t have that, can we?”

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked without so much as a flicker of fear or apprehension.

You chuckled, continuing to walk as your eyes darted from the revellers to the ornate facades on the lakefront buildings, letting the scenery brush against your sense of awareness, but never fully grasping it. Until, between a restaurant and a hotel, a cobbled alleyway caught your eye. You veered off your tranquil course, leading Roger towards the main road and away from the lake. “You’re going to be very sorry you disobeyed me once today’s over,” you cooed. The alleyway seemed to stretch up to the sky, spurring off into labyrinthine offshoots even darker and quieter than the next. Losing your breath about half way up the cobbled hill, you tugged Roger into an offshoot, pressing him against the wall. “You’re going to be so, so sorry, Daddy.”

Roger raised his eyebrows and scowled. “Just you try it, sweetheart.”

Palming at the bulge in Roger’s jeans with one hand, you pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head and looked up at Roger.

He just let it happen. It was all he could do, staring up at the clear blue sky and chuckling to himself. In his mind, he had everything to be pleased about; he had earned himself a free handjob – maybe more if he played his cards right. But that was all he wanted.

The bustle of the promenade wasn’t far out of earshot and if he allowed you to allow him get too carried away, you risked being found out for the pair of perverts you really were. And he couldn’t let that happen.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easily. Undoing Roger’s jeans, you took his cock out; thick, hard and begging for your attention. Eyeing him up for any sign that he might be enjoying this, you pumped your hand over his length, gathering pace until you could hear each moist pass in your quiet alcove.

Roger sighed, jerking his hips into your grasp when your thumb brushed over the swollen tip. “Fuck,” he hissed, his lower lip clamped between his teeth.

“Enjoying this, Daddy?”

“Oh god, yes, Kitten. Keep going. Be quick.”

An evil flicker bolted through your eyes as you grinned up at him, relishing how worked up he became at nothing at all. “I’m gonna have to use my mouth. I know how much you love that,” you teased, sinking down on to your knees. The cobblestones were uncomfortable at best, but you’d only be in that position for a few minutes. And it’d be worth it, you thought, lapping at the underside of his shaft in lazy, wet strokes, groaning for effect. You felt the muscles in his thighs twinge when you grabbed them to steady yourself. And then his fingers, snaked their way through your hair. He wanted you to take him. To give him what he wanted there and then. But you were in control of this. Moving away from his cock with a pop of your lips and a clear thread of saliva tethering you to him, you got off your knees and wiped your chin.

Roger whined like a wounded animal. “You can’t leave me like this, Kitten!”

“Oh, but I can, Daddy. You didn’t do as you were told this morning,” you scolded, wandering back down the cobbled alleyway, leaving him scrambling to catch up.

“But,” Roger protested, shoving his engorged member back into his jeans, “it’s so fucking obvious. How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Not my problem,” you shrugged. “Where to next?”

Roger’s mouth hung open for a moment, looking around. “We could take a boat to Chateau de Chillon?”

“Is it nice?” you asked, turning to him and placing your hand over your eyes to shield them from the rays.

“It’s gorgeous,” he blustered, leaning in to your ear. “Lots of places for you to finish sucking my cock without getting caught.”

“Whether or not you get to finish is up to me today, remember?” you scolded. “Now which way to the boats?”

Roger paled at how direct you were. How easily you took control. And how you somehow managed to turn his legs to mush with even the slightest telling off. He looked left and he looked right, and then he pointed to a jetty three blocks away. “It’s this way.”

You grabbed Roger’s arm and set off towards the small jetty of tourist boats, bobbing away in the water.

Roger’s efforts to conceal his raging hard-on didn’t go unnoticed by you. He attempted to walk behind you, hoping your handbag would hide his crotch. Then he tried grasping at the hem on his shirt, tugging it down only for it to ride up again. You could tell he was getting flustered, eager to sit down and finally cover the tent in his jeans by crossing his arms protectively over his front. In fact, when you boarded the shabby boat, you swore he had never looked so relieved.

You and Roger sat in silence on opposite sides, exchanging lustful glances the whole way there. Every so often, your gaze trailed down to his crotch, which he so desperately kept covered beneath his hands. You licked your lips and bit them for effect just so you could see your boyfriend squirm in front of a boat full of tourists.

All in all, the journey only took ten minutes but in Roger’s mind, it felt like an eternity. He didn’t care where, or how you did it, all he needed was release. He mentally kicked himself for disobeying you that morning.

Stepping off the boat and on to the wooden jetty, Roger practically dragged you in the direction of the ticket booth, paying for both of your tickets.

“Where to first, Daddy?” you asked innocently.

Roger scanned the courtyard for the one entrance he knew he could count on. His eyes lit up when he found it. “I know just the place, Kitten,” he said excitedly, striding on ahead of you.

You snorted at his eagerness as he took two steep stone steps at a time, descending into the dark bowels of the castle into a deserted cellar.

Roger paused, glancing around. “Let’s go this way,” he ordered, jabbing his finger into the darkness ahead of you both.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet so you can finish me off.”

“No chance,” you jibed.

Roger stopped dead and pushed you against the wall. In the darkness you could just about make out his shoulders rising and falling. “Why don’t we play a game then, darling?” he said, running his hand over your throat so tantalisingly it went straight to your core.

“I love games,” you mocked.

“First one to come today gets a punishment,” he purred, hiking up the hem of your dress. “I wonder how long you’ll last. Oh,” he paused, palming at your slit. “No knickers and a short little dress? I think you’re really trying to tease me.”

That submissive streak inside you simmered away under the surface. “I didn’t think I’d need them,” you sighed, spreading your legs for him. “Seeing how hard you get for me just gets me so wet. I’d have soaked right through them.”

Roger chuckled, and kissed your neck, lulling you into a false sense of security.

It made you wonder when the catch would come. You always suspected Roger had a sadistic streak in him, and you always wondered what it’d be like to push the limits of his happy-go-lucky nature. Maybe today was that day?

But he was so gentle, so careful. Caressing that sweet spot between your legs with feather light touches that earned stifled, breathless moans from you. Never once did his fingers move with any kind of intent, other than to draw you out for as long as possible. And he clearly adored it.

He kept his forehead pressed to yours as he continued to tease you until his fingers were completely coated in your slick. “I think you like this, Kitten,” he whispered.

“I really do, Daddy.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll let you come if you put that mouth of yours to good use.”

“You’re going to need to try harder,” you sassed.

“I thought you’d say that,” he said in a wicked tone.

Before you could choke out another sassy retort, Roger slipped two fingers inside you, curling them up against that one spot guaranteed to make you squeal his name. Then another finger joined them, stretching you out with squelching wet strokes that cut through the dark, quiet cellar. His fingers fucked you, while his thumb circled your clit in firm motions that ratcheted up the tension in your legs with every single round. “Tell me again how I need to try harder, Kitten?”

You grasped and clawed at his shoulders for stability in the throes of pure ecstasy. “Oh god, not here Daddy!”

Roger chuckled, burying his face against your neck to get better access to all the sensitive skin to drag his teeth over. “That’s what you get for teasing me, Kitten,” he whispered, his breath falling in hot feathery wisps on your skin. “Now, you can finish me here and now, or I can make you come and give you a nice punishment when we get back to the flat tonight.”

“I swear I’ll finish you,” you panted. “Please.”

Roger smirked, removing his fingers from your cunt, leaving them saturated. He pressed them to your lips. “Suck them clean,” he commanded, popping them into your mouth before your brain could register what was going on. “Hopefully this’ll teach you not to get mouthy with me.”

You hummed, wrapping your lips around each finger as he pumped them in and out of your mouth until they were all clean, wishing they were still buried in your dripping snatch. You swore your thighs were a mess by that point. But it didn’t matter. You had to let Roger believe that he was getting exactly what he wanted from you – it was all part of the plan.

You grabbed his hand and started wandering ahead, but Roger stayed firmly rooted to the spot.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“We need to find some privacy, Roger. We can’t do that right here,” you whispered.

“Can’t we?” Roger smirked, nodding towards a short wall in the dark recesses of the cellar. “Pretty sure that’s private enough.”

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. If it beat any more violently, it might have burst right out. You walked slowly behind the wall and got to your knees for the second time that day as Roger joined you, hastily tugging down his zipper and pulling out his cock.

Roger wasn’t planning on playing nice. Grabbing the back of your hair with one hand, while the other wrapped around the base of his cock, he looked down and smirked. “Now, be a good girl and open that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

Before you knew it, he had bottomed out; the tip pushing at the back of your throat. You gagged and spluttered and fumbled for something to steady yourself. You clung to Roger’s thighs for dear life. The pace he had set for you was utterly blistering. The kind of face fucking that instantly sent mascara cascading down your cheeks, and great, long strings of saliva dripping from your chin and on to your chest. The sounds of you gagging on his cock alone were disgustingly lewd; even concealed behind the tiny wall, if a rogue tourist happened upon the cellar, they’d hear the pair of you and know straight away what you were getting up to.

“Such a good little slut, aren’t you Kitten?” he sighed, thrusting into your mouth with reckless abandon and no consideration for the state of your hair, or your makeup. “I love girls who do as they’re told.”

The words pouring from his mouth were sheer filth and it went straight to your cunt. You couldn’t resist reaching down to get yourself off.

But then, Roger tugged you off his cock. Right before any kind of pleasure registered in your brain.

“I didn’t say you could come, did I, Kitten?” he scolded.

You were still panting, trying to suck some air into your lungs, relishing the brief reprieve he offered from his onslaught. Your brain was so cloudy that words weren’t on the agenda.

“Let’s play a game, shall we?” he purred with a sadistic edge. “You get to play with that tight little cunt of yours, and I get to come wherever I like. How does that sound?”

“Sounds reasonable,” you sighed with a delirious smile, your hand returning to your torture, tense cunt. But Roger’s grip on the back of your head pulled your gaze right back up to him.

“There’s one other thing, though, Kitten. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you cooed.

“Wherever I decide to come, you’re not allowed to clean it off until we’ve walked around the entire castle. So you better hope that mouth of yours pleases me, or it’ll be going on that beautiful face of yours.”

You moaned hearing those words. Was he really serious?

You didn’t care. You continued to play with yourself, dutifully opening your mouth to take his cock again.

“Can you imagine what everyone would think if they saw you with spunk dripping down your face, darling?” He groaned; he seemed to know the exact things to say to have you teetering on the edge in seconds flat. “Or maybe I could fuck you. You love feeling it drip down those thighs, don’t you, Kitten?”

Now that was an idea, you thought. Your eyes popped open with enthusiasm as you gave an approving mewl.

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you Kitten?” he taunted, his cock hellbent on making your jaw ache. “Tell me how much you want it.”

Of course you couldn’t manage that. Words were impossible when you were gagged by that thick rod of his stuck down your throat. But that didn’t stop you trying, gurgling a comical, “Fuck me please Daddy,” through the unrelenting mouthful.

“So cute,” he teased. “I didn’t quite catch that, Kitten.”

“Oh my god,” you gurgled again, “please fuck me Daddy.”

Roger laughed, yanking you off his cock. He spoke to you like you were a gorgeous little simpleton – slowly, annunciating every syllable. “English, please, Kitten. Tell me again.”

“Please fuck me,” you whined, your hand working overtime between your thighs.

Then, panic set in. Roger wasn’t focusing on you anymore. Instead, he was busy looking around as the sound of footsteps grew closer. He quickly tucked himself back into his jeans and offered you a hand up.

Your stomach dropped with disappointment.

You quickly wiped the drool off your chin, and power walked out of the cellar and on to the next exhibit in the castle, red face and both of you so frustrated by each other’s teasing that you might have exploded just from walking and holding hands in awkward silence. “Where to next?” you asked him.

“Maybe we should try the armoury?” he sighed. “Might be a bit less busy.”

Clamouring up several flights of stone and wooden steps, you and Roger were horrified to find that the jewel in the crown of Montreux’s most famed tourist attractions in peak season was completely packed. Small children ran amuck in the armoury, enjoying the view and playing around with the wooden toy canons.

It was a sight that could’ve made you and Roger cry.

“Right! Back on the boat,” Roger ordered, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his dark blue jeans and bolting down the wooden steps towards the courtyard.

You struggled to keep up with him as he walked down the stony path towards the jetty to catch the next boat back to Montreux.

“I can’t fucking believe that,” Roger complained. “I was so fucking ready to …”

“Shag my brains out?” you laughed.

Roger’s features changed from bitter frustration to mild agreement, and even, a small meek smile. “Yeah.”

“Where to next,” you began, draping your arm over his shoulder, “Daddy?”

He flicked his eyes over to you and with a devilish smirk, he made his suggestion. “There’s a really good bar on the promenade. And I don’t think they’d bat an eyelid about people shagging in their toilets.”

You laughed, slapping his chest as the boat set sail. You were so ready to give up on the game you were playing. “Haven’t we had enough near misses today?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Roger began, stepping on to the boat, “I thought we were doing the whole public sex thing now, because my girlfriend’s just realised she’s a bit of a freak!”

You plonked yourself down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I am, but sometimes, you have to make it about the soft stuff, you know?”

Roger raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“I’m kidding! Where is this bar you were talking about? It better be good!”

“Drinks are on me, Kitten,” he said softly, patting your thigh.

You and Roger burst into the opulent bathroom at Funky Claude’s with the verve and roguish impatience of a pair of horny teenagers. You giggled, casting an eye over the decadent restroom to make sure no one was there, before bundling Roger into a stall.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you laughed, hiking your dress up around your hips and planting your hands firmly against the wall at the back of the cubicle.

“Me neither,” Roger responded. This was followed by the hasty unzipping of his jeans, for the third and hopefully final time that day. He spat on his fingers and dragged them over your cunt, still sensitive and glistening invitingly from the torture Roger had bestowed upon you at the castle.

You groaned as Roger eased into you. The way he stretched you tight around his girth and stilled for just a split second made you eagerly clench around him. It didn’t do much. But that was ok. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head when he finally began to move in tedious passes, every back and forth filled the tiny bathroom stall with slick sounds that would have given the game away, should someone have wandered in while you were mid rut.

Roger’s hips snapped into you with a jagged, purposeful intent, that made you curse and brace harder against the wall in front of you. He clung to your waist with his chest firmly glued to your back, hunching over you like an animal. “Such a tight cunt,” he moaned against your neck. “Touch it for me. Touch your cunt for me, Kitten.”

Those words made your entire body shudder with need. “You do it, Daddy,” you whined.

He chuckled and wrapped one hand around your throat. His free hand slipped between your thighs, seeking out the sensitive little nub he had taken so much pleasure in teasing so harshly before.

Your nails clawed at the wall as another wave ripped through your body. You cursed, loud and unchecked as Roger did his best to bring you to the edge as fast as possible.

But then, you heard the gentle swish of the swing doors to the bathroom. You and Roger stopped dead. His hand moved from your neck to your mouth and his lips pressed to your ear again. “Shhh,” he said, moving his cock painfully slow in. And out.

You blinked and looked around, as if somehow it would make your ears work a bit better in an attempt to track the person’s movements in the stall next to yours. You could hear them shuffle their jeans down. And you heard the stream of urine whizzing out of their bladder. And then their zipper. And a flush. And the taps.

All while Roger continued to fuck you so slowly it made you ache.

Nothing could prepare you for when the hand dryer roared to life. He moved at double the pace as when you were alone, pounding you like he was in heat; his fingers doing the same on your clit until your body convulsed and a loud, pleasure dripping moan escaped you, masked by your fellow bathroom goer drying their hands off after taking a piss.

When they finally left, Roger gave three sharp thrusts, punctuated by guttural grunts with his teeth planted in your shoulder. You could feel him dripping out of you as the pair of you stood there in silence, sandwiched together in your post romp comedown.

“Fuck,” you giggled, making his seed ooze down your thighs as you turned to him. “Can you believe we almost got caught?” Your cheeks burned with humiliation. “Do you think they realised?”

Roger shrugged, tucking his cock back into his tight blue jeans. “It was your idea, Kitten,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “And I for one, actually liked it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you quipped, balling up a wad of toilet paper.

Roger leaned back against the cubicle door and watched, mesmerised as you cleaned yourself up in front of him. Even for you, this was a new level of personal space invasion.

“Staying for drinks?” he asked casually.

You got up and flushed the toilet then turned to him with a wide grin. “Do you think the people out there realised the two of us just blasted in and shagged in their toilets?”

“It probably happens more than you might think,” he shrugged. He turned and unbolted the door, throwing a glance back at you over his shoulder. “You finish titivating yourself and I’ll get them in. They’ve got a great cocktail menu.”

“Will do,” you sighed, following him out of the cubicle and wandering over to the mirror. Mascara was caked around your lashline from Roger’s earlier efforts at putting your mouth to good use and your lipstick was smudged, leaving only your lipliner intact. Not only that but the blistering August sun had made your foundation cling to all those tiny lines on your face that you didn’t want to admit you had. You opened your bag and fished out your make up to try and fix the damage. Your hair would require a bit more effort. Roger loved it messy, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to bear being seen in a fancy place like this with a raging crow’s nest atop your head. And you weren’t even sure you packed a brush. Snapping the emergency hair tie you wore on your wrist, you reckoned that desperate times called for desperate measures, and scooped your hair up into a high ponytail, hoping to god that Roger wouldn’t get the wrong idea and get another boner for you to take care of tonight. Then you swiped on some lipstick, blended out your mascara and your foundation and blotted on some powder to take the shine off. It never ceased to amaze you the wonders that five minutes in a quiet bathroom could do as you puckered up your lips to blot the excess rouge off. You topped it all off with some perfume and you were good to go.

Roger waited patiently at the bar, seductively sucking an olive from a cocktail stick and eyeing the cocktail menu from over the frames of his glasses. His shirt sat askew and his hair stuck up in all directions, but somehow he fitted right in with the opulence of a place like this. You could tell he was a big deal. Sometimes, it took your breath away and made the butterflies resurface all over again, remembering that he was yours and no one else’s.

His eyes lit up when he saw you wander over to him from across the crowded room. Like two strangers on an awkward first date, unsure of how to approach each other. But pleased they had found themselves in the same place at the same time.

For some reason, putting one foot in front of the other was much more troublesome in this situation. Not from a day of wandering around Montreux, but from sheer nerves. Feeling your chest burn, you noticed all eyes in the room were on you; you ran your fingers through your ponytail, smoothed down your dress, and sucked your teeth to make sure nothing was stuck between them. Your heart thudded, wondering what exactly was wrong with you. Why were these people staring?

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a dump like this?” Roger smirked when you finally reached him.

“Fella done me wrong,” you joked, hoisting yourself up on the stool next to him. You stole an olive from the dish in front of him, and elbowed his side.

Roger scanned the room at the people who stared at you. Not looking at you, he smiled. “You’re a real head turner, darling.”

“That’s probably you…” you paused, thinking of your next move.

Why not go with it?

This was the perfect backdrop to the most perfect date you could imagine. Admiring Roger in the glow from the low-hanging lamps over the bar, you asked him your burning question. “Would you like some company for the night?”

Roger turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. He slapped his hand on your thigh and said, “Only if you’ll let me buy you a drink, beautiful.”

He was playing along.

You scooted closer to him, peering over his shoulder to read the menu in his hands, laughing quietly at the names. “I like the sound of a ‘Money,’” you said, pointing to the page.

“I’m loving this ‘Let’s Dance’ one,” Roger replied. “You know, darling, I’m actually friends with Bowie.”

You knew this. You had seen David’s number pop up on Roger’s phone on numerous occasions, and the comments they’d leave on each others’ Instagram posts. But for the sake of going along with your perfect first date, you widened your eyes in shock. Over played, hammy, fake shock. “Really? What’s he like?”

“Oh he’s great. Peculiar guy. Cracking wardrobe.”

“So are you famous or something?” you pressed, beaming at him.

The bartender ducked between you and Roger – he looked like something out of a 1920’s speakeasy, complete with black armband, suspenders and a moustache. “Monsieur Taylor – que désirez-vous?”

Roger stumbled for a moment, with an um and an ah and then, in perfect French he ordered. “Je voudrais un Money, et pour la dame, une Let’s Dance s’il vous plait.”

“D’accord Monsieur.”

Something about Roger speaking French went straight to your legs; or rather, the spot between them. “You haven’t answered my question,” you prodded, looking visibly flustered by Roger’s linguistic prowess, and squeezing your thighs together for good measure.

“You could say that, darling,” he said, shovelling a handful of nuts into his mouth. “I’m the drummer in a rock band.”

“Oh so you’re a rockstar?” you cooed. “Will I have heard of you?”

“I don’t know, darling. Ever heard of Queen? We’re kind of a big deal,” he boasted in a charmingly modest fashion.

“So that’s where I’ve seen you!” you said with wide eyes. “Personally, I’ve always thought they were kind of shit.”

Roger didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead he did that thing he usually did, where he desperately moved his lips as his usually sharp and nimble brain played a game of catchup. It lasted a few awkward seconds where all you wanted to do was to break character and yell ‘kidding’ at him. But eventually, he changed the subject. “What brings you to Montreux, darling?” he asked, resting his head against his hand as he leaned on the bar and gazed adoringly at you.

“Just some bloke, really,” you sighed.

“Really? And here was me thinking I had a chance,” he pouted. “What’s your man like?”

You lowered your eyebrows and flashed him a smile that made him instantly wish he had never even asked that question. “Well,” you hummed, “he’s lovely. I met him on Tinder, and if you ask me, he’s far too old to be on there. But anyway, I let all that slide. Gave him a chance.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because he’s everything I could ever want. Shorter than I thought from his pictures, though. Still tall enough. Handsome. Great dress sense. He’s surprisingly intelligent, considering how beautiful he is. And, here’s the kicker. He has the most devilish, vile sense of humour I’ve ever encountered.”

“He sounds like a catch,” Roger sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He is. I’ve only been with him a short while and he’s completely changed my life for the better. I’m so much more confident because of him. But anyway, why are you here?” you asked, turning to face him and shuffling in your seat.

“A woman.”

“What’s she like?”

“Well, she’s the polar opposite of my ex wife and the kind of woman I should’ve married. So sensible and carefree at the same time. And she really makes me want to be better, you know? I never felt like I could have a life with my ex wife. But this girl. God, she’s got me thinking about it. I don’t know if I’ve missed the boat with all the settling down business. I hope not. Because she’s all I want.”

“And yet you’re in a fancy bar, buying a strange girl a very overpriced drink?” you asked with a wink.

“I think we’ve met before,” he sighed, closing his eyes ever so slightly.

“I think so too,” you said.

Roger turned his gaze towards the bartender, watching him as he made your drinks. You could barely hear the sounds that came out of his mouth. But his lips sure as hell looked like they were saying something important.

Like: “I love you.”

>> NEXT >>

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #queen

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archivalle · 4 years

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considering pre-archon-ness zhongli is free real estate rn and i doubt m//hoyo care Enough to put that much lore in bcus it wont make them money - rambling under the cut

see in my head zhongli’s personality takes a lot of practise you can’t just wake up one day like, calm collected and intelligent, and based on chara stories and his history he seems to be kinda... how do i word this. i disagree w a lot of fanon about him bcus im a stickler for portrayals and THE MISTRANSLATIONS AND LACK OF CARE / STEREOTYPES THE FANDOM FALLS INTO JUST GET TO ME But

i honeslty picture a younger zhongli being much more - chaotic? HMM idk if that’ll read right. i dont know what word to use im like hmm m mm m. i’ll come back to that if i find a descriptor that works better im not saying chaotic but thats the closest i can come to

HEAR ME OUT. he seems to have in the past exhibited pretty uncharacteristic behaviour that absolutely leaks into his present behaviour and im gonna have to take y’all on a journey

1) i think a lot about in particular his ‘that which rises from the sea’ story. he made himself insanely uncomfortable to the point that it bothers him probably thousands of years later all for a contract and — idk man that’s a little childish to me? IS THAT THE WORD IM LOOKING FOR? i see him forcing himself through things to stay true to his morals, and needing to force yourself for your morals is very childish to me. he doesnt do things like that any more.

2) sealing osial instead of killing him. i have a couple theories on why he did this and why it was done in panic instead of thought out as thoroughly as one might think — havria. i bring her up because as his side story showed that when gods are killed the energy released is immense. and if im allowed to make my own assumptions on timelines, if this happened before osial, it stands to reason zhongli took this as a lesson seriously and sealed osial out of fear bcus damn what the fuck if he accidentally destroyed everyone

3) and losing guizhong ... man. guizhong was his brains. she literally is described as gentle and intelligent, using her wisdom compared to zhongli’s raw strength. why would he need her if he had the intelligence when he was younger? i think in particular about one of her commandments;

"Teach with wisdom, be bound by virtue, fortify the bones, unite in ambition"

Sounds more like present Zhongli, right?

4) i’ve alwasy felt like some of the other adepti seem quite parental towards zhongli. maybe thats just me. madame ping and cloud retainer especailly i feel like m not saying they act like parent figures im just saying theres this like??? IDK HOW TO WORD IT MAN I HATE ADHD I WISH I WAS BETTER AT PHRASING THINGS. it’s a care that feels less like they treat him like the prime adepti and more like an equal or something similar.

bcus like. we know his title ‘god of war’ is a mistranslation - i’ll find the tweets on this bcus my chinese is only hsk1 and nowhere near good enough to explain this thoroughly (yes i should be studying rn too dont tell) and he’s no god of war at all. seeing as thats the pyro archon’s title yaknow.

i just think he must have been so different when he was only 1-2 thousand years old. still fresh. still learning. still with this ‘i can solve everything’ mindset that took him years to outgrow. and losing guizhong probably pushed him there.

anyway i think this is why he gravitates towards people like xiao or childe

ill finish this thought eventually for now take this typos and all.

#🔸 ZHONGLI » headcanon #if u actually read this god bless i am litelarly ramblinjg my fucking heart out

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daydreamingabouthockey · 5 years

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Somewhere in Stockholm- Chapter 1

William Nylander

Summary: Maggie gets stuck in Stockholm during the eurovision song contest and she somehow ends up staying with her best friends teammate William Nylander.

Word Count:

Notes: This is the first story I have put on here so please go easy on me however any criticism is welcome! This is probably going to be in a least three parts maybe.This was inspired by my favourite singer George Ezra. I’ve included a link to the full story and the song that George Ezra wrote from the story. Honestly it’s pretty funny I’d recommend checking it out. - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=llmvnEq2g3s

Chapter 1

Maggie had been solo travelling around Europe for the last two week. She had seen so much on such a short trip from America and honestly didn’t want to go back next week.

Today Maggie had arrived in Stockholm. Somewhere she had been so excited to visit for weeks unfortunately for her, she had chosen to visit the exact wrong day. As today was the Eurovision song contest final. Which from what she had learnt through an enthusiastic Swedish lady on the train was a singing contest where every country in Europe and for some reason Australia take part in. The acts were all weird and wonderful. The lady on the train had shown her some videos of previous years which included dancing grannies and a heavy metal band dressed as weird creatures. it seemed the more outlandish the better.Then the countries vote for each other and the country with the most points at the end of the contest wins. Last year Sweden had won meaning the contest was being held in Stockholm this year.

What she wasn’t expecting when she turned up to her hotel was the receptionist telling her that

her room had been double booked and the hotel had no more hotel rooms left. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to find a different hotel to stay in,”

“That won’t be possible madam, you see the whole city is booked up for the weekend because,” “Of the song contest of course,” she finished huffing. He said giving her a sympathetic smile.

“Oh great, what am I meant to do?” she asked sarcastically. The receptionist just shrugged at her calling the next customer up to the counter.

Maggie sat at the train station. Wondering what in the world she was going to do now. Her train ticket wasn’t valid until tomorrow, she couldn’t afford to pay for a new train ticket. She sat on her suitcase in train station, her fingers dialling her best friends number. She wasn’t even sure what time it would be in Toronto right now, but she just needed to hear a friendly voice and Morgan was always full of good ideas. “Mo,” Maggie said suddenly bursting into tears.

“Mags are you ok? What’s going on are you hurt where are you?” he asked

“I’m ok , I just don’t know what to do, I just got to Stockholm and the hotel I was meant to be staying at is double booked and every hotel in the city is fully booked because of some stupid competition going on,” she wailed.

“It’s ok, let me help you ok? Stay calm so every hotel and hostel is booked?”

“Yep, I can’t afford a ticket to get me out of the city tonight either,”

“Your in Stockholm, Sweden?”

“Yep,”

“Okay, I have an idea, let me call you back in a couple of minutes I just have to call a friend, where are you now?”

“The train station,”

“Ok find a cafe to sit in get something to eat get yourself a nice coffee and i’ll call you back in as soon as I can, can you do that for me?” he asked slowly like he was talking to his grandma or a child. “Mmhh” was all she managed.

Maggie sat on her suitcase. Wondering what on earth Morgan could do from the other side of the world, she doubted his somewhat hockey celebrity status ventured as far as Stockholm although I guess you never know. Maggie and Morgan had been friends since school. It had been a running joke that Mo had even named the family dog after her. He still denied it. Morgan acted as Maggie’s big brother. Her parents used to wind her up that they were going to end up together but the pair never saw each other like that. They had had a conversation about that once when they were teenagers. They had tried and experimented with a kissed but they both agreed they didn’t feel it and they were better off friends. Even though Morgan now lived in Toronto and Maggie in Seattle, they kept in touch regularly and saw each other at least once a year,which was it was normally in the hockey off season and when Maggie could take some time off work. Maggie was still mad she hadn’t been able to see Morgan play. But Seattle hadn’t got a team yet and she couldn’t afford to fly back to Vancouver for Canucks vs Leafs game. She had only just saved up enough for this trip. After wandering around for a few minutes she finally found a coffee shop around the corner from the station. She ordered some kind of pastry and a coffee for herself and sat down in the table to reconsider her option. All of a sudden. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. “Morgan calling”

“Hey are you ok?” he asked she could hear the concern in his voice. Big brother Mo as always.

“Yeah I’m sat in some cafe now feeling a little better,”

“Good, So its turns out my teammate and his brother are in Stockholm,they have a place out there and Willy said you can crash at his”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,”

“Oh Mo you are a lifesaver,”

“What are friend for?” he sighed

“I’ll buy you the biggest tub of ice cream next time I’m in back in the city,” she squealed.

“I mean you need to thank Willy not me but I won’t say no to ice cream,”

“You have the biggest sweet tooth of anyone I know Mo,”

“Just don’t tell Babs,” he laughed

“So who is this guy I’m staying with?” She asked taking a bite of pastry “I mean I need to check I’m not staying with a serial killer, obviously,”

“I wouldn’t send you to a serial killers house,”

“Mm unless you were in on it?” she laughed and even though she couldn’t see Morgan she knew he was rolling his eyes. “I haven’t heard you mention a Will before” she asked. Mo and Maggie regularly chatted and even facetimed. She had met a couple of his friends over facetime like Jake who was Mo’s best friend/ roommate and then a couple of the other boys Auston and Freddie who had formed group for going out for dinners. But not a Willy.

“William Nylander, he’s a good guy, one of the rookies who plays with me on the leafs, he’s Canadian, Swedish, his family lives out in Sweden so he goes back over summer to see them, but I think it’s just him and his brother in the city at the moment,”

“Oh cool, if he’s a good friend of yours,”

“Yeah, I mean were pretty close, Just erm,” he paused for a moment. “Willy.. He tends to have a lot of girls throw themselves at him, he’s quite the charmer and I don’t want it to be awkward what with you being my friend and all,”

‘Jesus Morgan I’m twenty not some hormonal teenage girl,”

“Yeah, well you I’m just letting you know,”

“Thanks,”

“Anyway I’ve text him your number, he said he’ll send you the details and stuff,” he said with a yawn. “ I have to go Mags, I have to get to training just text me and let me know you got to Willy’s ok,”

“Sure,”

“Love ya loser,”

“Bye Morgs,”

She smiled, thank god that crisis was averted. Maggie thought she might have to sleep in the train station tonight. Her phone pinged again but this time it was a number she didn’t recognize.

To: Maggie

From:+46 771 793 355

Hey, it’s Willy, Mo’s teammate, he said you needed a place to crash tonight? We’re in the Östermalm. Here is the address: Flat 90, Floragatan Stockholm, Östermalm: 122 869 SEK. Give me a call if you have any trouble finding it. Willy x

#william nylander #william nylander imagine #william nylander fanfic #Toronto Maple Leafs #toronto maple leafs imagines #toronto maple leaf imagine #alex nylander #morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #alex nylander imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #nhl writing #hockey fanfic #hockey writing #somewhere in Stockholm

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missblissy · 6 years

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Low Honor!Arthur Morgan X Reader Part 2

((Many people asked for this and I wanted to write a part two to this because it was such a good prompt. Thank you again to the anon who sent it in!! You can read Part One Here!!))

A warm and gentle breeze greeted his skin. He cleared his throat a few times, hating the constant onslaught of phlegm he had to fight just to breath. Arthur was eternally grateful for the warm mountain air that tempted him. It was easy to breathe, and he felt light, almost like he was floating on the wind the guided him through the tall mountain passes.

The mighty stallion he road might have disagreed, but Arthur much enjoyed this long and quiet journey. It had given him time to think, reflect, and judge himself. There was a lot to think about, between now and then. He had spent the vast majority of his ride already trying to talk himself out of doing it. This was a stupid idea, he would tell himself. But then the next second he’d say, If I don’t do this, I will regret it.

Arthur’s eyes perked up when he noticed the trail began to descend, “We must be getting close, almost there, boyah,” The horse didn’t reply, but still, Arthur leaned down to give the beast a gentle pat.

He thought back on how nearly a week ago he had fainted in the streets of Saint-Denis. How the Pinkertons raided a camp in the swamps. How Dutch was abusing his power over the local Native Americans. He thought a lot about his talks with Rains Fall. He thought most about what Dutch told him in Gurama. He could still hear those words ring in his ears like a screaming bell that wouldn’t stop chiming.

“She was pregnant, Arthur! She would be useless to us anyway! It’s better she’s gone, we have fewer people to worry about!”

How? He knew, but he didn’t. Months had passed since then. Enough months that maybe, just maybe, that baby had been born. Arthur thought of a million reasons why you left. He narrowed them down but never would have guessed which one. Yet again, much to his surprise -but not really- he had fathered another child.

Finding you was the hardest part. When Arthur learned he was dying, he wanted to try and become a better man. He started helping more, robbing less, and doing what he thought was right. Which including going behind Dutch’s back. Again. And Again, and again. Even now he was. Dutch forbid Arthur to go searching for you, and for whatever reason, Dutch didn’t give a reason why. Arthur, being Arthur, did what he so damn wanted, especially if with the fact that he had fewer and fewer days to spare. This was one of the last things he wanted to do. After this... He needed to do everything he could for John.

Arthur spent the first three days looking for you by bribing post office men, and mailmen of the sorts by looking for a Miss (Y/N) (L/N). On his last day, he finally found someone that knew your name. The mailman said the last he heard, she was sending letters from Lake Alma, a large logging town in a deep valley far beyond the Grizzles, north of Ambarino. Very north of Ambarino. It was about a four-day ride north.

He could see further down the mountain trail, as he ventured further into the valley, a welcome sign that said We Welcome you to Lake Alma!

Arthur felt very nervous, he had an address, and he hoped it was right. He wasn’t sure if you lived in town, or outside of town. Awful thoughts ping-ponged around in his head. He started getting confused and flustered about what to say to you. Arthur’s stomach twisted in knots and his breath grew thicker and heavier as he started to wheeze. He took a scrap of paper out and looked at it again, reading the street and address number.

This couldn’t be right... No. Arthur found himself staring at a very large house. He’d go as far to say a mansion. Arthur was very confused, but this was the only lead he had. Perhaps you stayed here at one point? There was no way on earth you could afford to live in a place like this. Maybe you worked here?

He got off his horse, slow and steady, and took his time walking up to the front porch of this big white house in the middle town. The neighbors had homes just as big and pretty and white. God, this was uncomfortable. Arthur found himself at the front door faster than he expects. He took a breath, shaky and weak, then knocked on the door three times.

A second passed, then another, a few more then suddenly the large glass door was opened. A man stood there, tall stern. He wasn’t much taller than Arthur, but he had dark black hair that matched a small fuzzy beard. He peered over his half-moon glasses with old tired eyes. Arthur noticed he wore the kind of clothes you’d see a doctor in, “Can I help you?”

Startled and stunned, Arthur froze before clearing his throat, “Uh-”

The man cut him off, “I only see patients at my office,” He studied Arthur’s poor health, “Which is closed today.”

“N-no... Sorry, Mister,” Arthur tipped his head, trying to hide his face under his hat, “I was looking for a Miss (Y/N) (L/N)... Um.. she was a friend of mine-”

This bastard sure was rude. He cut Arthur off again while raising he brow and asked, “You’re... Arthur... Aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?” How did this man know his name? Who was he? Did he know you?

“Just a second,” The strange man closed the door quickly and Arthur could see past the distorted glass as he went deep inside the house. Moments passed and Arthur felt a flashback to when he visited Mary. His heart picked up, he felt nervous and self-conscious.

Suddenly there was movement behind the door and the nob clicked open.

“Arthur?” There you were. He couldn’t believe his eyes. You... You looked like a princess, dressed in an all-white dress, with your hair done up pretty, with earing and jewels. Like... God, he thought you were so much different than the cowgirl he knew. Always covered in mud, grime and dried blood. Wearing pants and hats with guns to the teeth.

“(Y-Y/N)... I...” He noticed how thin you were, “You look different,” Was all he could get out of his mouth.

You opened the door a little more, step out and onto the porch, “So do you,” You said grimly. It had almost been a year since you last saw him. Almost. Maybe a month or two shy. He looked... he looked downright awful, “What happened to you?” Funny, that was the only thing you could also say. How did he find you? What... What did he want?

Arthur gave you a small smile while reaching in his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. He let out a low hum while lighting it, “Lots of things,” He clicked his tongue, “But mostly... mostly just here and there.” You could see how hard it was for him to smoke that thing. He coughed a few times, bad, and he fought to catch his breath.

You’ve seen this all before, and you were damn familiar with it, “Arthur... you’re sick aren't you?”

He chuckled to your surprise, “You guessed it,” He sounded so bitter, angry even, “I’m dying, (Y/N).” He sounded like he was done talking, but he took a deep breath and brought his gaze to meet yours. You forgot just how blue and sad his eyes were, “I know about the baby, (Y/N). Dutch told me,”

You blinked several times, your mouth hung open slightly. You took in a sharp breath and shook your head slightly, “I-...Wh-what? Is that why you came here?”

Arthur was about to speak again but the stranger showed up again. He was really getting on Arthur’s nerves. Instead, Arthur got angry and little snotty, “Who is this guy?” He asked you as you waved a hand at the stranger.

The man didn’t seem fazed, he didn’t even react to Arthur’s immature tone. In fact, he just looked down at you, giving you the chance to explain. Arthur stared at you, waiting for an answer while you knitted your brows and frowned slightly, “My husband,” you said, “Arthur, this is Nick,”

“Nicolas Garcon, Dr. Nicolas Garcon,” The man’s voice was suddenly thick with a heavy French accent. Arthur very much suddenly hated this Nicolas.

You turned to your husband, a smile on your face, “It’s fine dear, go collect the rest of those books for me, please? Leave them in my gazebo and I’ll meet you there later?”

Nicolas didn’t say anything. He apparently wasn’t much of a man for words. He simply went on his way, back into the house and thankfully away from Arthur. On the other hand, Arthur was very... surprised. You married this guy? Of all the people? You either really loved him, or something he had, and Arthur wasn’t sure which.

After a few seconds, you looked back to Arthur, “Would you like to come in?”

His face was still hanging in disbelief, “Sure,” He didn’t sound too sure. Arthur followed you inside. The house was very nice. Smaller and cuter than Angelo Bronte’s house, but just as white and gold and glistening as Henri Lemieux’s large home. Regardless, he couldn’t deny it was beautiful. He had been in many mansion this past year, but yours was by far his favorite. He could tell you made this place your home.

There were books everywhere, you were an avid reader and enjoyed learning. He could see the painting you must have to choose, they were all of flowers or landscapes. Arthur faintly remembered a time when you were younger, bugging him to draw you pictures to hang in your tent. He even saw photographs hanging on the wall.

“That’s me-” Arthur caught you by surprise, you stopped and looked back at him. He was staring at a photo of himself, Dutch, Hosea, and you, “That’s... us. You kept this thing?”

You had nearly forgotten that picture you put up. It was one of the only things you had left to remind you of your old life. You missed it every now and then, “Yeah,” It hurt a little, “You guys are the only family I know,” Arthur kept looking at it, you could see him processing forbidden emotions.

A woman unknown to Arthur came rushing down the large staircase you were already making your way towards, “Madam!” She called lightly, “Madam, the little one had woken up,” She was a short chubby woman, who looked twice as old as Arthur.

Both you and Arthur perked at her announcement, “Thank you, Laura,” You smiled at her, thankful she was around and here to help, “Can you hold on a moment, I’ve got a guest. We’ll be up shortly,” The maid nodded her head, give Arthur a smile as well before heading back upstairs.

Arthur looked back at you. You were a faint hollow shadow of your formal self, the real you. This? This... rich man’s wife? This wasn’t you, it couldn’t be, “How?” He simply asked, “How... Did you-”

You knew what he was asking, so you swallowed the lump in your throat, “Luck I guess. After I left the camp,” You paused, remembering things you didn’t want to remember, “I... I fled into the mountains. I knew I had to get out of the area, go somewhere I knew Dutch wouldn’t want to go. I made it here after two weeks of getting lost in the snow.”

“Then you met him?” He gestured to what Arthur assumed was your wedding photo, “And married him?”

Your laugh startled him and made his heartache. You giggled behind your hand, “Oh no- Nick and I only just got married, about a week ago.”

Something about that made Arthur irrational angry. His dumb man brain told him he had a chance to come up here earlier and he should have come up earlier. He cursed himself for prolonging this for so long.

“But- yes, Nick was the first person I met when I got here. I was already two months pregnant, starving and nearly frozen to death. He found me and took me into his home. This home. He’s been nothing more than helpful, and we are very similar people,”

Arthur found that extremely hard to believe, you could tell by the way his face twisted up. He gave you that look often when you were younger. It made a small part of your heart flicker awake, that you thought was long since dead. It just didn’t make sense, so he asked it, “Why did you marry him?”

“He asked... And,” Your voice went a little soft, “This.. this was the best option for my daughter.”

A daughter? He had a daughter? Arthur’s face lit up, then went pale as a sheet. In his weak and sick state, he didn’t try to hide his emotions anymore. He was like reading an open book. You couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. And he was feeling a lot.

Arthur lowered his head eventually, he took on a grim tone, “I’m sorry,” He said slowly, “This- I... I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did, the last time we spoke. You were right, (Y/N). About everything. You opened my eyes up to that, and so did the threat of death that constantly hangs over my head.”

You forgave Arthur a long time ago. You thought you would never see him again, or anyone for that matter. To his surprise, and your own a little bit, you had turned into someone completely different from your formal self. You became a wife and a mother, something Arthur never saw in you. You became domesticated, in a way.

A somber look grew on both your faces. You swore that you’d keep your daughter miles and miles away from your former life. You devoted every second of your time to her, which was a surprise to you. It was a lot easier than you first thought, maybe that’s why you helplessly fell in love with Nicolas. For the first time in what felt like years, you found someone who wanted nothing more than to help you and make a better person out of you. He showered you in the attention you so craved from Arthur, or from any on-again-off-again lover.

The fact that Arthur came all this way to find you, to find your daughter and confront you about it. It made you confused and honestly sad. If it was not for the fact that Arthur was quite literally dying, you’d probably turn him away.

“Do you want to see her?” You finally asked the question that Arthur couldn’t quite ask himself.

He stood there, silent, still and sad. His hat covered the vast majority of his face. Though it was barely noticeable, you saw the quick little nod and heard the tiny little, “Yes.”

You went upstairs, Arthur following close behind. The tink tink tink of his spurs along the hardwood floors reminded you of the days long in the past. Seeing Arthur here? It hurt you honestly. It opened up wounds you thought healed, but really you only covered them up. You stopped at a white door that had a little pink sign on it that said, Meadow.

Arthur could put two and two together, “How old is she?” He asked before you could open the door. He was so nervous. It was just a baby, it wasn’t like she’d know who he was. It’s not like you’d let her know who he was either. She’d grow with Nicolas as a father, not Arthur, and that's all she needed.

“Only a month,” You turned the door nob, “She was born a few weeks premature, so she’s small,” The crisp white room nearly blinded Arthur when he looked inside.

The nursery was cute, small and neat. He eyes immediately locked on a small crib where the maid Laura was standing. She smiled at them then excused herself. You walked over to your daughter without hesitation, unlike Arthur was seemed physically scared of a baby, “Come on,” You quipped, “She only bite a little.”

Arthur slowly tip-toed his way closer and closer to the crib. There inside he found possibly the smallest most helpless baby he’s ever seen. LIttle baby Meadow had large blue eyes that stared up at the world, and thin curly blonde hair growing in every direction. Arthur’s brows knitted together as he gazed down at this little girl. His face hardened, and you could see how much this hurt him.

“She looks like you,” You said quietly. She really did, she looked nothing like you in your opinion. She had Arthur’s eyes and his light hair. Her face was soft and round with little defining features yet.

“I’m...I...” He was at a loss for words, “Meadow,” He said the name, tasting it on his tongue. It was a fitting name, he thought, she was as beautiful as a wild meadow filled with flowers swaying with the waves of wind that passed over it, “Hello, Meadow.” Arthur bit at his upper lip, he was fighting emotions he thought he’d never feel again. But this time it was far more worse, and these emotions were very unwanted, “I’m sorry I can’t be your daddy, little girl, sometimes I wish I could,” He reached down slowly into the crib, holding a finger out for her. She grabbed it fast and held on tight, “You got a really smart, brave, and pretty mama. You got a rich daddy, a big house, and a life I could never give you,” He smiled when Meadow looked up at him and giggled, smiling her own toothless cheeky baby smile.

Hearing Arthur say those things touched your heart and soul. You could feel his pain, fear, and regret waving off him like a violent storm. For some reason, you had regret too. What if you stayed there, in camp? Would Arthur have changed? Would you have had a chance with him? But then you remember the newspaper article your husband gave you just a few days ago, about how awful and terrible the Dutch Van der Linde gang was, and all the gang members that have been killed, and all the people the gang killed. You knew in your mind that you made the right choice, but your heart was screaming for a different one.

Arthur kept looking down at his daughter, loving her for the few seconds he’d allow himself too. Eventually, he pulled his hand away and she began to cry. She let out small whimpers like she was begging for him to come back. It was hard, but he did his best to back away from the crib. When you looked away from Meadow, and back to Arthur, you caught a glimpsof him rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb. He shed little tears, but he still shed them.

“You made the right choice,” Arthur said after a few moments, “I’m glad you left, there wouldn’t be much of a life for her if you stayed. I wish it was different, I wish I was different,” Arthur paused, and you felt no need to cut into his words. He sounded like he was just rambling off his thoughts, not really thinking about what he said, but more so feeling what he needed to feel, “I’m glad I got to meet her though,” He ne he’d regret if he didn’t, and even though it killed him, he was still glad he did this before his time finally ran out, “I should get going, I don’t want to over stay my welcom-”

“Are you sure, Arthur?” You couldn’t stop the words from blurting out. You became nervous and quickly added, “It’s such along ride back. At-.. At least stay a little longer. Let Nick give you some medicine. He specializes in... in your area of illness. He runs a hospital ward just outside town.”

The offer was tempting, but he really shouldn’t. Yet despite this thought, he found himself say, “Alright.”

You called for Laura, asking her to watch Meadow for a few moments while you walked Arthur down stairs once more and towards the back of the house. You called out for your husband and asked him to do a simple task, then left Arthur alone with the man he just really didn’t like.

“She says you’re sick,” Nicolas waved a hand for Arthur to step inside what looked like to be a science lab. He was a doctor after all. There was a chair for him to sit in so Arthur made his way towards it.

“Sure, something like that,” He really didn’t want to talk much, though he did look around a lot. He was impressed, “Are you some kind of scientist?”

“Something like that,” If that was his attempted at a joke, it was very unfunny. What did you see in this guy? Clearly something Arthur didn’t see, “I spend a lot of time studying medicine and diseases. I do a little embalming work as well.” Nicolas walked over to a cabnit and pulled out two little bottle, then a syringe. He filled it half way with both then returned to Arthur, “This will hurt.” he said in a monotone voice.

Arthur winced as the needle dug into his skin, and he let out a quick breath when he felt the liquid force it’s way into his blood stream. It burned and felt like he was dying there for a second. Thank god it was over as quickly as it started.

He was about to thank him, but Noclas started speaking much to his surprise, “She cares about you, I hope you know that,” He was talking about you, “She talks about you often, as much as she’d never admit that. My opinon of you is very small, probably as small as your opinon of me, but I’d do anything to make her happy, also just like you,” What was he trying to get at? Arthur wasn’t sure but he kept listening, “When (Y/N) first came her, all she did was cry about you, how she missed you and how much it hurt to leave on such a bad note. I couldn’t believe such a man existed to be so... selfish,” Rude, huh? Arthur rolled his eyes, but he knew Nicolas was right, “I did everything in my power to try and make her happy, to make her smile. I bought her books, I drew her pictures, I filled this house with paintings and flowers, and anything she liked. When she gave birth to Meadow, she wished you were there. She doesn’t really love me, Mr. Morgan. Maybe she says she does, but you are the one, and have been the only one on her mind for so long,”

It felt odd, yet there was now sense of similartiy between himself and this stoic doctor. Perhaps they were two side of the same coin. Arthur could remember how mard and how important it use to be to him to make you happy and see you smile. Just somewhere along the line he lost his honor, his way of thinking, and morals. It took the threat of death to bring him back up.

Arthur nodded his head slowly, “You’re better for her, better than me at least. For the both of them,”

“I know,” Nicolas deadpanned, “And I love them, even Meadow. I love her as if she was my own.”

At least he was honest. Arthur could respect that. He sat up, getting out of the chiar, “Thank you,” he said, “For this-” He raised his shoulder were he got the shot, “And... And for doing something I couldn’t. And can’t.” Both of them shared a silent look, then a nod. Nicolas lead Arthur out of his little lab and back into the center of the house. You were waiting by the door with a small bag in your hands.

When Arthur approched, you held out the bag for him, “Please, there’s some medicine in here, and some food for the trip back. I can’t imagine Dutch being keen on you being gone for so long,” You tried to smile but it didn’t meet your eyes.

“No, you’re right on that,” There was a poor attempt of a smile on his face, “Thank you. Both of you,” Arthur looked at you and your husband then gave a nod of his head, “Take care of her for me,” He was looking at you now, “I don’t know if we’ll ever cross paths again, (Y/N), but... thank you, and... Be well. I hope only good things happen to you.”

He gave a little tip of his hat, kept his eyes looking at the ground and excused himself out your front door. When the heavy glass door clicked shut, you let out a breath, a heavy and sad one. How terribly tragic this was. You wished, just for a second, maybe a second more, that your life could have been a little different, and have a little more of Arthur in it for just a little longer.

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war-obsessed · 5 years

Text

Blame - Chapter One; How it all begun

The Concept | Chapter Zero; The mistake | Chapter One; How it all begun | Chapter Two; Coffee |

Song: I Forgot Your Name (But I Like You) - Two Year Vacation

German speaking will be in bold

All other speaking will be French unless mentioned otherwise.

1941, in occupied Paris, France

The moment her eyes caught a glimpse of him in the very corner of her eye, her attention was drawn towards this young, attractive man. Her eyes moved towards him, from the other side of the street, sitting on a terrace, following his movements for a brief moment, fiddling with the pencil in her hand. She was quite impressed by this man. She couldn't for the life of her remember when was the last time she felt impressed when first seeing someone. Though that enthusiasm took quite a blow when her eyes fell on his uniform. She wasn't even surprised. She knew everybody in and around Paris, so a new one was always a fucking Nazi.

Most of them only followed orders, just like the American, British, Canadian and French soldiers did. Most of them had nothing to do with the mass elimination of jews. And she felt that. She felt that this wasn't one of them. He looked modest, but not too modest. He had confidence, but wasn't egocentric. He was perfectly balanced, like a gift from God, besides the fact that she didn't believe in a god. When his head turned, their eyes met. She could see from across the street where she was standing, that he had dark, hazel like eyes. They looked bright and shining, and god, where they the prettiest things she had ever seen. She turned her grey eyes away from him, a smile curling up her lips. She caught his eye, and the feeling that maybe she wasn't invisible after all made her feel good. She sipped from the coffee in front of her, and lit another cigarette. She took a slow inhale from it, as her eyes went looking for the young man, but he disappeared from sight. She cursed a soft "Merde.", and took another long puff from the cigarette. It didn't matter anyways. She had way more important things to do than think about this man. Or at least, she could pretend as if she had more important things to do. Either way, she didn't have time -or wanted- to think about this man. She grabbed her notebook, and quickly jammed some things down. She nonchalantly and elegantly chugged her coffee. She was done here, for now at least. There was nothing else to see. She took another big, deep huff from her cigarette, finishing it. She packed her things, and was about to leave, when his face appeared in her vision again. If only she'd been patient, she'd still be sipping on that coffee, looking at him. But she convinced herself she didn't have time for that. She hastily walked across the street, needing to pass the man. Whatever you do, do not look at him. She kept her eyes to her shoes, or anywhere else that wasn't his face, really. She sped up her pace slightly, and immediately regretted that choice when she tripped over a loose stone in the pavement. Her bag slipped out of her hand, as her face fell to the ground. She was able to take the hit quite well, and caught herself on her hands. For a moment she was dazed, laying there on te ground, until she heard a voice. It was harsh, but soft and caring at the same time. A slight German accent, speaking clear French.

"Are you alright, mademoiselle?" She looked up, met his eyes, and internally died. It was him. She prayed for the ground to consume her right there, but her prayers remained unanswered. She got onto her knees, still slightly dazed. She patted the dirt off of her skirt. "I'm fine, thank you monsieur." Her eyes connected with his, as he reached out a hand towards her. She convinced herself she was calm, and nothing was going on, but her mind ran wild. Was this a movie? She carefully put her slim hand into his rough ones. He gently helped her up, and went to collect her bag. "Oh no, monsieur, please, I have bothered you enough." The young man shook his head, and grabbed her bag and some papers that had spilled out. He carefully handed them towards her, and she placed them back in the bag. As her eyes scanned if everything was still in it, his voice demanded for her attention. "May I ask your name, madame?" He looked down towards her grey eyes, which met his. "Colette." The way her own name could roll off of her own tongue as beautiful as that amazed him. "And what about yours, monsieur?" The way she spoke put a spell on his mind, the beautifully pure accent leaving goosebumps on his skin. "Fredrick. Fredrick Zoller." "Fredrick" She repeated, though his sounded like the rough German name it was, with a rough and short i, hers sounded like a love song, soft and tender, with an high i. Their eyes stayed locked for a moment. "I noticed you looking at me." He had a malicious kind of smile on his face, feeling like he did something fantastic. "Ah- yes. I know all the people around here, and I didn't recognize you. Which makes me to believe you're new." A grin formed on her face as she spoke. "Correct. I only got here today." She took a quick look at the watch around her wrist, and spoke. "Excuse-moi monsieur, but I have to go." He gently smiled, and nodded. "Have a nice day, madame." The way he looked at her made her feel weird, but in a good way. "Have a nice day, monsieur." She started to walk away, her shoes clicking on the stones. Her head turned towards him. "Maybe we'll meet again." A smile appeared on her face, as she continued to walk off.

She closed the door of her house behind her, and let out a deep sigh, before sliding down against the back of it. She hated talking to German soldiers, especially when they invaded their language like that. She could just speak German with them, but they always had to show off. She rolled her eyes at the thought of it, before getting up. A deep sigh left her mouth, as she looked at the envelopes she had accidentally managed to sit on. She was surprised she even got letters at this point. She opened one, and immediately recognized the letter. "Fucking Americans really are stupid aren't they?" She mumbled the words to herself as unfolded the letter. Imagine if the Germans did a house searching while she was gone? Imagine if they found that very letter on the little carpet in the little hallway, opened it, and realized she was working with the allies? They'd be hearing from her. She read the letter, and realized it was a standard letter that expressed gratefulness towards her. Connerie, as she liked to call it in French. The other letter wasn't anything important either, and she tossed both. She'd get rid of the American's letter later. Now, all she wanted to do was write her daily piece for the newspaper, get some long overdue stuff done, and take a nap.

The sounds her typewriter made were pleasing, the ticking of the letters hitting the screen, the ping after each finished line. As more and more text appeared on the paper. She wrote a daily column about what she saw during the war. Each day she'd sit at the little coffeeshop, at the same table, either inside or outside, looking at what happened. She'd then write it into an article. Though at the beginning she was still free in writing, after getting threatened by Germans several time, she watched her words carefully. As her writing became more Nazi-friendly, quite a few Germans started reading the columns, and she was often requested to write in German. So often, that she'd actually started writing the column in German too. Instead of a half page, she now took up a whole page, though sometimes less, depending on how interesting that day had been. Today was definitely a whole page kind of day. And while she was at it, she might as well just slightly kiss the German's ass. Rather talk good about a German and be spared and get to keep your column, than talk neutrally and get the column taken from you. She soon finished, and started writing the German version. That too was finished faster than she thought, and as she proofread it, she was happy with the results. This was her first draft that didn't contain any mistakes, and for a moment she felt proud. She let the ink dry as she laid the two sheets of paper on her desk, and went towards her bedroom. She opened the window, letting some fresh, cool air in. She made the bed, and threw her pajamas into the laundry bin. She'd wash the laundry sometime later, but not now. For a moment, she took in how damned lucky she was. There weren't many people in Paris in these times that could say they owned a beautiful house, close to the centrum but still intimate and quiet. Or that they owned a typewriter. Or that they had money enough to get a proper meal on the table, to order a coffee every day at exactly eleven in the morning, to be able to live life as it's meant to be. With a bit of cheating of course, and a bit of help from the allies. But she realized she was one lucky woman.

With a slight smile she left the living room, and picked up the two sheets of paper. She proofread them both once more, just to be sure, and then left the house. She greeted people she came across like always, on her way to the publisher. She looked on her watch, and she was just in time. Two-thirty. The door was already open, and when she entered, she saw the Germans decided to check up again. Every two weeks it was the same story. Four Germans came to inspect the whole building, paperwork, and past published papers. She walked past one that waited in the lobby, blocking the stairs, and greeted him. "Madame Colette?" She heard the voice from above her, and when she looked up, she saw the soldier from before standing there. "Monsieur Zoller?" She looked at him with a look of confusion. He walked down the stairs as her grey eyes followed him. "I know you said that we might meet again soon, but I didn't expect it to be this soon." He slightly grinned, and she smiled back. "I write for the newspaper. I'm always here around this time." She continued to walk down the hallway, and turned to a door on her left. "Monsieur Durand?" She opened the door slightly, and was welcomed by the face of monsieur Durand. "Colette! I was starting to worry you weren't going to show up in time." She smiled at the director. "I've never been late- well, besides that time those German officers insisted on reading what I had written- but that's an exception!" They both laughed, and she turned to Zoller. "Monsieur Durand, I'd like you to meet the star of tomorrow's column, Fredrick Zoller." Durand shook Fredrick's hand, and greeted him. She handed Durand her draft, and he read it. "Colette, I have to compliment you. Each and every single day you improve, and you manage to surprise me." She just nodded. "Thank you, monsieur."

As she left, Fredrick went after her. "You write columns?" She chuckled. "Yeah, I write a column. Have been doing it since the war started." A smile formed on her face as she was honored with his genuine interest. "What's it called?" Her smile grew. "Read the paper tomorrow, you'll find out." She sped up her pace, and left him in the lobby, stunned. "How is she so mysterious, so graceful, and so luring at the same time." "What?" He looked at the soldier besides him, who was looking at him like he just told him he was a jew. "Oh- Nothing. Nothing."

As soon as her door shut, a screech left her mouth. "He thinks I'm improving!" She cheered happily, and couldn't help but kiss her typewriter. "I wouldn't know what to do without you." Maybe Durand would higher her salary? That would be fantastic! Or maybe, he'd let her publish the book she was working on! She was as happy as ever. She looked at the picture of her father that stood in a frame on the desk. "I told you I could do it. If only you were here to see." That broke her confidence and happiness. "Shouldn't have thought of him, stupid." She threw herself onto the bed. She had written all night yesterday, in the candle lit room, and now all she wanted was a nap. She was a lot more tired than she wanted to admit, but before she even really realised, she was already fast asleep.

??me actually writing a prompt? impossible

#inglourious basterds #fredrick zoller #Daniel Bruhl #donny donowitz #aldo raine #hugo stiglitz #wilhelm wicki #smithson utivich #omar ulmer #gerold hirschberg #andy kagan #michael zimmerman #simon sakowitz #shosanna dreyfus #emmanuelle mimieux #bridget von hammersmark #quentin tarantino

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kiroiimye · 6 years

Text

fearless

She reminds him of a rainstorm. Like the rain, she’s mesmerizing to watch. Like the low roar of the thunder, it reminds him of the startling dangerous things she’s capable of. Like the dark clouds above, there’s a darkness inside of her that makes him uneasy. Not uneasy of her, no. But more like uneasy of the things the darkness could do to her. He knows the darkness had corrupted her once, but no matter how many times she reassured him… He sighs as he climbs into his car and guns his engines. As he backs out of his driveway, he lets his thoughts drift to her again. That loose blonde hair…her smile…those eyes. God, she drives him insane. As he drives to her house to pick her up, there’s a light tapping on his windows. His gaze flits to the right and there’s little droplets of rain splattering onto his window. He curses under his breath. Damn, rain on her birthday? She probably won’t like that, he muses inwardly. There is a buzz from his phone in his cup holder and he notices a notification. Pulling over to the side, he picks up his phone and opens the message.

Hey, you here yet? Ur paying for my birthday lunch after all ;)

He smirks, reading over the short little message. His fingers quickly tap out a reply.

On my way. Bummer, there’s rain and traffic :/

As he starts his engines again, his phone buzzes again.

Eh, I like rain. U better hurry up tho. I’m starving.

He chuckles at her response and clears the notification, before driving off again.

* As he pulls up to her house, the rain comes down harder. The mere idea of the rain stopping; ha! A joke, he thinks. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Outside.

There’s a ping from his phone and he doesn’t even get a chance to look at it, as there was a light tapping on his car window, with a familiar face peering at him. He grins and rolls down his windows. “Did you need help madam?” he teases. Her dark eyes twinkle playfully as she banters back, “I’m looking for a male individual. He’s incredibly handsome, has horrible music taste, and loves surfing. You’ve seen him?” He leans out his window and pokes her forehead. “Get in, you.” Rolling her eyes, she flips her hair, walks around the side, and climbs into the car. “So, where are we going?” she asks. “Birthday girl picks,” he replies amicably. “Hmm…what about Starbucks first, movie, and then lunch date?” she offers. His heart flutters a little at the word ‘date’, but he dismisses the feeling. He figured a while ago she didn’t see him like that. He flashes her a smile. “I’m down.” Her hands make a shooing motion. “Then drive, my fair Uber driver.” He sticks his tongue out at her as he guns his engines. “Since when was I your Uber?” “Since today. Now hurry up. I want my white girl Starbucks.” He laughs as the car sped off towards the shopping area.

* As they pass the rows of neat little houses, she smooths out the dress she had picked for the day. It’s her favorite dress; with a white top and white lace arm sleeves, simple black belt, and a navy blue tulle skirt. She’s wearing a touch of makeup for the occasion and black gladiator sandals. Of course, it didn’t matter. He was so oblivious it was pathetic. Can’t you see I’m in love with you?

They roll up at Starbucks. It’s pouring outside and he doesn’t have an umbrella with him. Shit, he thinks. I hope she doesn’t mind getting soaked. As if reading his mind, she says out loud, “No umbrella?” He answers with silence. Peering at her, he sees her nod determinedly. She pokes him. “Let’s go slowpoke.” He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t mind getting a little rain?” “Nah.” The two open their doors and step out into the rain together. It hits them hard, soaking their clothes within the first couple of seconds. The wind whips her hair and the faint rolling sound of thunder echoes up above. “RUN!” she shouts at him, laughing, and she sprints towards the little coffee shop. Her laughter is infectious. He laughs too and darts after her and matches her long strides, pace by pace. They fling open the door and to both of their surprise, it’s emptier than they thought. A lone bartender stands at the counter, and an old couple sits in a booth, sipping their hot chocolate and holding hands from across the table. The two of them approach the counter. “Hey, can we have one Vanilla Bean Créme and a Caramel Macchiato? Venti size please.” “Names?” He gives them their names. The bartender nods and takes two cups to scribble their names, before turning over his shoulder to make their order. “You need to dry off?” he asks her. She nods. “Yeah, I’ll be back in a few.” She hurries to the bathroom and he waits for their order.

“God, I’m such a mess,” she mumbles to herself, running a hand through her damp hair. She had squeezed out as much water as she could from her dress, but it was still soaked, much to her chagrin. “Oh well, he won’t mind,” she decides out loud, before leaving the bathroom. When she’s back in the warm little shop, her eyes catch sight of him. He’s sitting in the corner table, in his damp clothes, watching the rain. Their cups sit on the table, untouched. She makes her away over to him. “Hey,” she says. He smiles. “Hey.”

He looks her up and down, scrutinizing her. Her princessy blonde curls was damp and her clothes were soaked to the skin. Her body shakes slightly. She’s cold, he realizes. Obviously feeling self conscious, she covers her shoulders with her arms. “What?” she demands. “Nothing,” he replies, and looks away. Underneath his breath, he whispers, “You look beautiful.” It’s a shame she doesn’t hear it.

•

The two drink their Starbucks in silence, occasionally making small talk. After finishing, they toss their cups into the trash can and walk out. It’s still pouring outside. The wind had stopped and low rumble of thunder was no more. However, the skies are stormy and dark, and the pitter-patter of rain never-ceasing. As they prepare to walk to the car, he’s hit with an idea. What if…? He fumbles with his phone and earbuds, plugging the small cord into his phone. When he looks up, she’s about to step into the rain. “Wait!” Her eyes dart to his as he takes her hand. He watches her cheeks flush a faint shade of pink. Or maybe it was just his imagination. “Dance with me,” he says simply. She freezes, before nodding. “Brilliant.” He hands her an earbud and she tugs at his phone. He gives it up and she picks a song. The familiar tune drifts into his ears and he gives her a strange look, as if saying, why? She simply laughs and drags him out into the pouring rain.

There’s something about the way The street looks when it’s just rained There’s a glow off the pavement You walk me to the car And you know I wanna ask you to dance right there In the middle of the parking lot, yeah

Close enough to truth, he muses inwardly. They were dancing in the parking lot, in the rain, as they were walking to his car. He twirls her, and he hears her giggle, making him smile.

We’re driving down the road And I wonder if you know I’m trying so hard not to get caught up now But you’re just so cool Run your hands through your hair Absentmindedly making me want you

Pulling away from him, she twirls on her and splashes around in the rain. She runs a hand through her soaking wet hair and tosses it around playfully to the beat of the song. He couldn’t help but watch her; she was in her own little world and he was lost, lost in the sight of her.

‘Cause I don’t know how it Gets better than this You take my hand and drag me head first Fearless And I don’t know how but With you I dance In the storm In my best dress Fearless

She’s drunk on the feeling, this strange idea! Dancing in the rain like a fool, a madman! Oh what would her parents say? But at this point, she could care less. She feels his presence from behind and he takes her hand once again, twirling her and catching her. They move their arms to the beat of the song, laughing at their dancing and the naive foolishness of what they’re doing. It didn’t matter; the moment was perfect.

And you stood there with me in my doorway My hands shake I’m not usually this way but You pull me in and I’m a little more brave It’s a first kiss, it’s flawless Really something It’s fearless

Caught up in the moment, as if in a trance, he pulls her closer to him. He’s so close, she could feel his breath on her face. She watched him swallow nervously, biting his lip. Knowing him, knowing her, he wasn’t going to make a move anytime soon. She yanks his collar down and presses her lips on his. It’s short and sweet and ends too soon.

She’s breathless when they pull away and he looks almost mystified at the action. Shaking out of his reverie, he pulls her to him again and kisses her, this time more passionately.

‘Cause I don’t know how it Gets better than this You take my hand and drag me head first Fearless And I don’t know how but With you I dance In the storm In my best dress Fearless

They’re breathless when they pull away. He manages a stammer, albeit nervously. “You know…” “Yeah. I know.” He brushes her cheek tenderly at her words. Her gray eyes sparkle, analyzing him, deep into his bones. “You just wanna kiss me again, don’t you?” He grins. “You know me too well.” “Well. I’m not stopping you,” she returns playfully. His eyes are bright at that and he kisses her again. Again. Again. He kisses her in the pouring rain, unafraid, because, when he’s with her, she makes him fearless.

have a super old fanfic because why not?

also hello i’m alive.

#fearless #taylor swift #tswift #taylor swift fearless #tswift fearless #percabeth #percy and annabeth #percy jackson #him/her #pronouns #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase

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