For longest time you couldn’t figure out what to write. You wanted to be romantic. You wanted something special but you just couldn’t think of what. A poem seemed like a bright idea in the beginning. ‘Who wouldn’t like a poem from their partner?’ you thought to yourself.
But it was Amelie. It was the Widow herself. Your heart sank at the thought while aimlessly fluttering about. You always wanted to look your best and impress her. She would tell you not to try so hard and she loved you for you.
Next to her you couldn’t help but feel like a potato. She was amazing and you….were you. Sure you had plenty of skills and people thought of you with high regard but compared to her she just looked flawless.
Always so calm and patient.
You took a deep breath and sealed the paper in its envelope having a little scent from her favorite scent of your [perfume/cologne] then placed it by her nightstand.
A few days went by as you waited for her to return from her travels. Days turned into a few weeks as her assignment was extended, leaving you to forget about the envelope. By the time she returned from her assignment you could see the wary in her eyes.
“Bonjour, Madame” you chirped her sarcastic pet name.
A smile crossed her face. As reserved and stoic as she was, you remember that she told you how happy it made her to have someone to come home to. You get off the couch and waltz over giving her a sweet kiss and embrace.
“Cherie,” her voice is warm and tired as she returns the affection.
You pick up her bags and help her get settled. She tells you about her latest adventure with Sombra and Reaper. You suggest bringing them over sometime for some drinks and BBQ.
“Not a chance,” she says but you can hear the hinderence of amusement.
She heads off into the shower and you go to make dinner. As time passes you don’t see her leaning in the doorway, towel and all. You glance over and see the letter in her hand. The letter you had completely managed to forget about.
You almost drop the pan as soon as you see it. Your face immediately red.
“Uh I can….I can explain I swear,” you muster yourself to say.
Her eyebrow is raised as she eyes you then reads your poem back, “Roses are red, violets are blue, death becomes you, my lovely purple spider”
She looks back up at you and chuckles, “Quoi????”
“I was trying to be romantic but I suck at that so I went with some humor or something!” You glance sideways shyly as you mutter.
She shakes her head chuckling. You can tell she’s about to bust her gut as she struggles to retain her composure.
“leave the poems to me, oui?” she finally manages to say.
She then walks over and wraps her arms around you and continues to chuckle in your neck. It’s one of the few times you’ve seen her this amused but you know you managed to do something right.
Sombra never let you live it down so it must’ve been worth it.
…I may or may not be posting a couple of one-shots of post-finale things that are canon in my heart (and most of them will be unbearably fluffy, with the occasional whiff of angst thrown in for flavor).
First up: Mabel and Dipper’s first day back at school has a few setbacks, but nothing the Mystery Twins can’t handle together.
As the twins approached the school’s entrance, Mabel paused a few steps shy of the door. Dipper stopped next to her, shooting his sister a perplexed look.
They didn’t have time to dawdle, already at risk of running late after Mabel tried sneaking Waddles into her backpack this morning. Mom had been rather lenient in letting the pig stay, to the point of even allowing him to sleep in Mabel’s bed, but she had to draw the line somewhere.