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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

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ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ɴᴇʀᴅ ⓟⓐⓡⓣ ②

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ғʀᴀᴛʙᴏʏ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x sʜʏ-ɪsʜ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀᴜ (ɪɴᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ɪ ɢᴜᴇss)

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: (two part series!) You’re starting to struggle in class and decide to ask your professor for some tutoring or extra classes to boost your grade. He ends up assigning the last person you’d expect to tutor you. (is it really a surprise though?)

ᴡ��ʀɴɪɴɢs: cw: talking about a car accident and infertility

smut 18+ (praise kink, dirty talk, oral fem receiving, hair pulling, marking, choking, slight spanking if you squint, slight bondage), major aftercare, fluff? This is pretty filthy lmao.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟺.𝟹 ᴋ (ɪ ᴀᴍ sᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ sᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜɪs ɪs sᴏᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ!)

ᴀ/ɴ: Thank you so much for all the love in the last part! I was truly expecting maybe about 20 likes but so far its gotten over 100! Thank you for being so nice to me on my first ever post and hope you enjoy part 2!

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For the next two or so weeks you avoid Bucky like the bubonic plague. You didn’t exactly hate the fact that he kissed, but he was your tutor. Isn’t that inappropriate? Let alone him being a part of a frat house. It wouldn’t be a good mix.

One good thing though is that your overall grade in class has gone up since your tutor sessions with Bucky so at least it wasn’t for nothing. He’s tried to talk to you in class a couple times when you didn't go to him but ended up giving up when you began showing up right when class started or going out of your way to even go near him.

Again, you didn’t hate him; hell you weren’t mad anymore, but you still avoided at all costs. It’s totally not because you're scared you’ll actually fall for him. How could someone like Bucky even look your way? Maybe he just wanted to get into your pants like all the boys in the house.

You didn’t tell Natasha that Bucky kissed but she could definitely tell that something was up. You were usually at Bucky’s frat house on weekdays but you’ve been canceling sessions every night since the incident.

One night you were studying alone in your apartment and Natasha was pacing around on her phone. She was dressed to go to a frat party tonight but it seems maybe her ride isn’t available. You wonder why she can’t herself when she has a car.

“Hey Y/n,” Nat crept up to you.

“Yes,” you drew out.

“Would maybe, possibly, perhaps, might be able to be my DD?” she asked.

“Your what?”

“My designated driver. Wanda has a family emergency; her and her brother flew out like an hour ago and I haven’t been able to find anyone to pick me up.”

“I can drop you off and pick you up,” you offered. You’d rather stay up late in case she wants to come home than stay at the party all night, especially if she finds another bed to stay in till morning.

“I mean you could do that but would it be more fun to actually party for once. Come on babe you’re too uptight, you need to have fun especially with how hard you’re working in school right now.”

“Nat, you know that’s not my scene.”

“Just stay with me. Or Bucky I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hanging with you tonight,” she suggestively, bringing confusion to your face.

“Huh?”

“Oh nothing Just come with me please? If it gets too much text me and I’ll let you know if I need a ride back home.”

“Actually?” you asked.

“Pinky promise.”

“Ok give me like 5 mins.”

You ran to your room and picked out an outfit you felt sexy but comfortable in; I mean if you were going to inevitably run into Bucky at this party might as well look presentable right? When you came out ready, Nat whistled, hyping you up and felt your face heat up a bit.

“Stop, let’s just go,” you averted.

You arrived at the house music booming from down the street. People outside drinking from red solo cups, cars already picking up drunks and dropping people off to get said drunk. You hastily parked the car and Nat grabbed your hand and pulled you close as you guys walked to the party. You weren’t going to lie, you were really nervous.

You heard stories about these parties but you were trying to convince yourself that they may be exaggerated somewhat but still didn’t do much for your nerves. When you walked you eyes almost immediately locked with Bucky’s. To say he was shocked to see you at a frat party was for sure an understatement.

Bucky began to move through the crowd to meet up with you but when he got to the entrance it was like you disappeared. Disappointed, he returned to the mini bar where the drinks were all held, where Steve served the drinks. Asked for a beer.

“How’s it going, man?” Steve asked.

“She’s here.”

“Nat? I really think there's something between us. I’m thinking about asking her on a proper date you know?”

“Really? That’s awesome, but I’m talking ‘bout Y/n,” Bucky clarified.

“What? I thought she hated parties.”

“I did too.”

As if on queue, you tapped Bucky on the shoulder.

“Hi.”

“Hey, what on earth are you doing here?”

“Nat needed a designated driver and Wanda and her brother are out of town.”

“Yeah Pietro lives here in the house, Steve drove him and Wanda to the airport a couple hours ago.”

You nodded your head and things got awkward again, but then again what’s new with that.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“I can’t drink.”

“Oh right. Do we have soda?”

“We coke for the rum but you can take a can.”

“Thanks Steve,” you took a can of coke from him.

You and Bucky and Steve all held wholesome conversation for a little bit then Nat came and whisked him away. Bucky was put on bar duty from then on and you decided to keep him company until Nat was ready to go home. But so far from the way Steve and her were dancing together you didn’t think Nat was gonna wanna go home.

You asked Bucky how long Steve and Nat have had their little thing and apparently it’s been going on for awhile. You had sneaking suspicion that they were together in some way but since Nat never brought it up you didn’t want to bug her. It was pretty easy to figure out though considering she didn’t come home some nights.

They’re good together though and you hope they make it official soon.

Talking to Bucky, you felt a hand brush against but when you looked no one was there. You figured it was just getting crowded. After a couple of hours you decided to text Nat to see where she was. When she didn’t respond, you took it upon yourself to call her.

“Nat where did you go?”

“I'm in the car,” she slurred.

“What! You can’t be driving! How did you even get the keys?” you yelled.

“I snatched them from you when you and Bucky were flirting with each other. Steve couldn’t find his keys so I took yours,” she shouted into the phone.

“When did you- whatever, is he sober?” you asked.

“Yeah and I am not even that dru-,” she hiccuped.

“Nat…” you warned.

“Steve is my boyfriend and we’re clean. I’ll be safe; it’s not like I can have kids anyway.”

“Nat.” When you moved in together at the beginning of the year, you noticed one time her grabbing her lower stomach in discomfort and offered her any products for her period. She told you she doesn’t get one and being the dumbass you are you asked why. She told you when she was a teenager she got into a car accident that caused extreme internal bleeding causing Nat to become infertle.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that,” you apologized.

“It’s ok babe. If anything you be safe.”

“She can’t see you, babygirl,” you heard Steve say and laughed out loud.

“Oh! I’m winking!” she shouted.

“Oh my god. Whatever,” you rolled your eyes.

“Anyways buh-bye, girly!” she hung up the phone.

“What happened?” Bucky came up behind you. You looked over at the bar and saw Bruce bar-keeping.

“Nat took the fucking car with Steve.”

“Why didn’t he use my car?”

“She said he couldn’t find the keys and I guess it was easier to just steal from me when I wasn’t looking.”

“Wow, ok. Stealth much?”

“Right? She’s like a Russian spy,” you laughed.

“Well, you probably need a ride then,” Bucky brought up.

“I don’t know if I wanna go home knowing Steve is probably gonna be railing her into the next dimension.”

“Yeah, you can spend the night here. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Really?”

“Yeah it’s not a problem. We probably have an air mattress hiding somewhere.”

“Thanks Buck. well since I’m not going anywhere I guess I could have a drink now.”

“What’ll it be?”

You drank a couple beers feeling the alcohol beginning to flow effortlessly through your veins. The music was still booming through the house and you found yourself getting lost to the rhythm. You made your way to where everyone was also dancing and let the music guide your body sensually.

You didn’t notice it yet but Bucky was staring completely in love with the way you were moving. He’d never seen you in this kind of environment and definitely not in the clothing you were wearing. You looked truly sexy even more so dancing the way you were dancing; like you had control over everything in the world.

You soon felt a pair of hands circle around to your waist instantly knowing who they belong to. Bucky moved his hips snug against your backside perfectly fitting with you. You let your head lean back feeling Bucky breathe against your neck.

“You driving me crazy, doll,” Bucky whispered against your ear.

You shivered at his words.

“Please, let me show you how fucking stunning you are,” he moved his hands towards the front of your hips.

“What?” you turned around. You hadn’t expected Bucky to want to do anything with you.

“I can make you feel so good. You deserve it.”

“Bucky-”

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

“I do,” you whined as he rubbed his hands against your lower back, pulling you so close.

He kissed you too softly, barely touching your lips, as he grabbed your hands and led to his room upstairs.

When you reached his room, the back of his knees hit the bed and he sat while your knees went to either side of his thighs. God his thighs. His hands went up your shirt grazing your bare skin with his fingertips as you continued to makeout sloppily.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging your shirt.

“Please, yes please.”

Your arms went over your head and Bucky slowly kissed the exposed skin as your shirt inched higher and higher up until he tossed it to the side. The straps of your bra left off shoulders and Bucky continued to kiss any exposed skin on your body. Your hands ran through his hair and you tugged his strands earning a moan in return.

You tugged at his shirt as well and he complied quickly getting rid of his shirt and throwing it to the side. Bucky hands ran over your bottom and you jumped off him nearly ripping your bottoms off your body. You heard bucky chuckled as he too took the opportunity to take his pants off leaving him in boxers and nothing else.

“I want to taste you baby girl,” Bucky bit at your ear.

Your body tensed a bit because although you were not a virgin, you were not that experienced, especially compared to Bucky.

“Is that ok? I’m sorry, we don’t have to do anything. I don’t want you to regret anything, princess. We can stop.”

“No! I don��t want to stop. No one’s just ever wanted to do that, you know,” you whispered feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“Oh baby, what kinda shit boys were you with? Let me show how good a woman is supposed to feel, got it?”

You swallowed hard, but nodded of course.

Bucky picked you up and gently laid you down onto the bed. His hands rubbed your thighs softly and he kissed your stomach ever so softly. He was trying his very hardest to make sure you were comfortable and relaxed as much as possible. Bucky traced the lining of your underwear and looked to you once again to make sure everything was ok by you. You nodded but that wasn’t enough for Bucky.

“Words, baby. I wanna hear you say it,” he whispered, lips against your inner thigh.

“Bucky,” you whined.

“Come on, baby. Use your words like a big girl,” he snickered.

“Please, touch me, Bucky. I want you to use your mouth on me like you promised.”

“There ya go,” he said pulling your underwear down your legs.

He slowly opened your legs and kissed your inner thigh leaving a dark purple mark for him to see and him only. When he was satisfied with the marks he left on your inner thighs he licked a slow and wet line against your pussy. Your hips instantly bucked into his face and your hands flew to his hair.

You tugged at his hair again and released a grunt from Bucky, the vibrations from his mouth pleasuring you even more. Bucky brought his fingers to your hole and he continued circling his tongue around your clit making you moan and arch your back.

He entered a finger into you and then another. You were already beginning to feel full from just his fingers alone, you couldn’t wait until he was able to fuck you balls deep. Your orgasm was approaching quicker than you anticipated, your toes curled and your back arched off the bed. Your heels dug into Bucky’s back but he simply continued to eat you out until you finally peaked.

“Bucky!” you shouted his name in pleasure.

“That’s it baby girl. You're my good girl, right?”

“Yes, I’m your good girl. Oh god, I’m cumming,” you moaned.

Bucky helped you ride out your first orgasm of the night completely enamored by your beauty. When you finally came down from you high you reached for Bucky pulling him into a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned into his mouth. You pulled him closer and sat up moving him to sit his back against his headboard.

“I don’t know what I want to do more, return the favor or ride you until my legs shake.”

“You can return the favor another time. Let me see you ride my dick, doll,” Bucky growled. Another time?

You crawled onto Bucky’s lap after he discarded his boxers letting his dick spring up, the tip red from lack of attention. It shocked you if you were being honest, it was so… big.

“Is that gonna fit?” you asked genuinely.

“Yeah, it will; but if it hurts too much you tell me to stop ok?” you nodded.

Bucky reached behind your back and unclasped your bra only to toss it to wherever the rest of your clothes were. His hands caressing your breasts; thumbs rubbing over your sensitive nipples, sending chills throughout your body. He kissed along your collarbone to your neck to your jaw before whispering in your ear.

“I have to grab a condom from the bathroom, baby girl. Sorry,” he began to move you.

“Why are you sorry?” you stopped him.

“I don’t wanna ruin the mood but safety is important before anything else.”

You weren’t gonna lie that actually kinda shocked you; and turned you on even more. You had completely forgotten about having a condom. You were on the pill but that doesn't mean you shouldn’t still use a condom. Bucky was back in no time and you took the condom from him wanting to put it on for him. Bucky moaned as you wrapped his dick and soon enough you were ready to go, arousal practically dripping down your inner thighs.

Bucky’s hand lid up to the back of your neck as you slid down his cock; both moaning at the feeling. You took a second to move but when you did things practically fell into pace. You quickly found a good rhythm for the both of you and soon enough you felt yourselves growing near climax.

Bucky’s hands gripped at your ass, grunting and moaning at the feeling of your walls gliding in and out of you. He smacked your ass leaving a slight red-ish mark for you to admire later. You pulled him closer, if that was even possible, burying your face in between Bucky’s neck and shoulder.

“I can feel ya getting close, baby. Fucking squeezing me. Feels so good, princess.”

“I'm gonna come, I’m so close.”

“Don’t come until I say so. Hold it, I know you can. Be my good little girl and fucking hold it.”

You sucked and kissed and licked his neck leaving little marks not nearly as big as the ones he was leaving all over you. Soon enough you felt the coil building in the pit of your stomach snap and you moaned so loud into Bucky’s ear, he almost came from hearing your moans.

“Sorry I literally screamed in your ear.”

“I told you not to come until I say so.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hold it anymore. You felt too good,” you whispered, barely audible.

“That doesn’t matter. I told you to hold it,” Bucky got off the bed and reached for his pants. You got so scared that he was going to leave; terrified. But instead he took his belt he was wearing and stalked back towards you. Oh how the butterflies in your stomach fluttered right now.

“Arms up baby girl. You don’t get to touch me now.”

You complied, your stomach fluttering immensely at the mere thought of what Bucky was going to do with you now. When he finished looping the belt around the headboard of the bed his hands ran along your entire body kissing here and there until back up to you.

“Too tight?” you shook your head.

“Perfect. Winter; say the word and I stop,” he kissed passionately, sliding back in you, pussy sensitive from orgasming twice tonight.

Bucky didn’t take as much time as you did before starting to slam into you over and over again. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, toes curling in themselves, tears brimming your eyes. Bucky fingers dug into your waist surely leaving more marks for you in the morning.

His hand came up to wrap around your neck and squeezed ever so slightly.

“Feel good? My little fucking slut, whining and wiggling under me,” Bucky said, more to himself than anything.

“Fuck-” you moaned. You wrists rubbing against the belt, trying to pull away so you could touch Bucky.

“What is it? You wanna touch me,” Bucky’s hand squeezed a bit more and you moaned even louder, legs wrapping around his waist pulling him closer that way.

“Oh good please Bucky, let me touch you!”

“Uh-uh, bad girls don’t get what they want. If you want to touch me you have to beg me like the good little whore you are,” Bucky growled.

“Fuck Bucky please, I’ll do anything for you just me let me touch you. Please, please, please!”

“Tell me your mine.”

“I’m yours, Buck. All fucking yours. No one else’s!”

“No one is ever gonna fuck as good as I do. Your mine.”

“Yes! I’m yours, oh god,” you moaned.

Bucky was extremely close to cumming and so were you so he undid the belt with one hand skillfully and your arms wrapped around his body pulling as close to you as humanly possible. Your hands ran through his hair and pulled hard as you both fell over the edge. Bucky settled between your legs for a minute kissing your breasts, your chest heaving trying to catch your breath.

Bucky got up and discarded the condoms making sure there were no tears or rips considering how rough he’d been with you. He didn’t intend to be rough at first but his mind was so clouded with you he practically lost control; but you didn’t mind not one bit.

Bucky came back with bottled water from a small refrigerator he kept in the corner of his room and held you back and head as you brought the water to your lips. After satisfying your dry and hoarse throat, Bucky picked you up and set down on his bathroom counter, the cold of the marble counter in extreme contrast to your hot skin.

He cleaned you up and inspected your wrists making sure you weren’t hurt; although they were quite red and would probably hurt in the morning. Lastly, he grabbed a wipe and cleaned the remaining mess of makeup you had put on the night before speaking up again.

“Was I too rough? I didn’t mean to be,” Bucky caressing the sides of your waist. You shocked your head no; the face with a blissfully fucked out expression and a smile making Bucky chuckle. He rubbed your skin with lotion to ease any irritation anything may have caused and kissed the marks he made during sex. He admits that he really likes seeing you marked up by him knowing he’s the only one who gets to see them and make them. Makes him proud that he was able to fuck so good and you loved it too.

He picked you up and took you to bed; kissing you all over one last time before letting you fall asleep in his arms. The last thing you heard before you fell asleep was Bucky whispering about how good were to him, calling you his good little girl; rubbing your back ever so softly putting you to sleep.

+++

You woke the next morning arms and legs tangled with another. You turn your head to find Bucky Barnes’ face tucked into your neck soft breaths tickling your skin. You rubbed his arms and back, nails lightly scratching him causing him to stir a bit.

Bucky pressed soft kisses against your skin and rested his large warm hands on your ass and thighs. You felt the urge to use the restroom and haven’t going last night, you figured you should as soon as possible. Prying your mildly sweaty body from his was obviously unsuccessful with how much stronger he was compared to you. His legs moved further in between your thighs and he began kissing your chest making you giggle in return.

“Bucky, I have to use the restroom,” you grabbed his face.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled and released his hold on you, not without whining of course.

You ran into his bathroom and shut the door. When you turned around you gasped realizing how marked up you were. Dark purple spots littered all over your chest and neck. Your wrists were bright red from the belt he used last night; however they didn’t hurt, a bit sore but not painful. Your thighs were also decorated with love bites and hickeys from Bucky last night and you smiled to yourself.

After you used the bathroom you cleaned yourself as well as possible but admittedly needed a shower in the end. You opened the door only to find Bucky, grinning like a little boy. You folded your hands underneath your chin evidently hiding your body with your arms as much as you could.

Bucky came up to you and placed his hands on your waist kissing the top of your head before turning you around to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. His body was flush against your and you could feel his dick sitting against your ass and lower back. His face came up and rested on your shoulder then grabbed your hands to wrap them behind his head and yours.

You played with his hair a bit feeling so confident and loved by the affection Bucky has been giving since you came into his room. His hands ran across your body everywhere they could reach before making eye contact with you in the mirror.

“Look at you, goddamn.”

“What?” you chuckled.

“Do you see what I’m seeing?”

You shook your head, feeling incredibly shy suddenly.

“Look how fucking beautiful and gorgeous and perfect you are. Geez, I can’t even handle it.”

You laughed out at how dramatic he was being.

“Goddamn, I could stare at your perfect body all fucking day,” he whispered, it wasn’t in a sensual tone however. It was almost like he was saying to himself, like he actually wanted to do as such.

“Please stay,” he asked you.

“Are you ok?” you sensed he was being incredibly serious, almost about to cry even.

His sad painted with sadness, eyes begging you to stay with him for the day. He wanted something with you.he wanted to be yours and hoped to God that you’d be his in return.

“Stay with me. Please?” you realized you didn’t think he was talking about staying for now, he meant stay with him, as a partner.

“What happened?” you caressed his face in your hands. He lifted you and placed you on the counter Like he did the night before, settling his hips in between your legs.

“They always leave,” he whispered.

“Who? ”

“I didn’t want to just sleep around with girls anymore so I started talking to them and taking them out but every time the night we had sex, they would always leave. I tried talking to them the next day but they always said they didn’t want anything out of it. So I stopped having sex altogether.”

Your heart ached for him. You didn’t want to do that to him. Of course you thought about it, but that was clearly before you realized Bucky wanted to be with you.

“I won’t leave.”

“We can stay in my room all day. You don’t even have to get out of bed. I can grab a couple game consoles from downstairs and we play on the tv. We order breakfast. I’ll wash your clothes. We have a washing machine in the basement,” Bucky said excitedly, you smiled excited as well for your day with Bucky.

“Can we take a shower first?” you asked.

“Yes of course, let’s take a shower.”

“Let’s?” you wiggled your eyebrows.

“Of course. Maybe we can pop in a couple rounds while we’re at it,” Bucky winked.

“Bucky!”

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Ok, all done. :) Hope you liked it and maybe give it a little like or reblog? You don’t have to though lol

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ!

@baddie-barnes

@calwitch

@red42985

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #collage!bucky #collage au #au #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes smut

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taylorinthetardis · 3 years

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Only Human - Chapter 2

Alright! Here’s the second chapter for Only Human. The gang go clubbing! Will is extra weird! You guys get a glimpse at my basic ass taste in music! Hooray!

The songs I had in mind for this chapter are:

Good as Hell by Lizzo (playing when they walk in) YOUTH by Troye Sivan (playing when they go downstairs) False God by Taylor Swift (plays when Darcy watches Lizzie dance) Only Human by Jonas Brothers (plays when Lizzie tries to get Darcy to dance)

Again I’d like to thank my good friend @madbaddic7ed for her encouragement and for convincing me to cross post this story.

I hope you all like this chapter. Please feel free to leave feedback and if you want to be added to a taglist for when I finally update, please let me know!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109365

Only Human

Summary: The events of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice as seen through the eyes of Darcy. Story takes place in modern day London. Lizzy and Jane are American students studying abroad. Their sisters take turns visiting them throughout the story. Bingley and Darcy are recent business partners, but longtime friends. Caroline is as snake-ish as ever. George Wickham is an actual rapist - the rape will not be described in detail.

Pairing: William (Will) Darcy x Elizabeth (Lizzie) Bennet; Charles Bingley x Jane Bennet

Rating: Explicit due to eventual smut

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, some dirty thoughts

Word Count: 3.5K

Chapter 2: Lock 17

The five of us piled into the back of the cab. Charles and Jane took the two seats facing the back of the cab, leaving myself to sit on the bench seat between Lizzie and Caroline. Lizzie stretched her legs out across the back of the cab. The lights of London illuminated the back of the cab and I got a good look at her combat boots. Caroline did as well.

“Do you see her boots? That’s at least six inches of mud!” She wrinkled her nose in disgust like Lizzie had dog shit on her shoes. It definitely isn’t. But I mean yeah, they’re muddy, she basically lives in a park, what’d you expect?

“I am sitting right here. They aren’t that muddy and they aren’t on your feet so, why do you care?” Jesus Christ, I love her. Lizzie shot a look across the cab to her sister. Jane returned it with one that clearly said “Be nice”. Why should she be if Caroline is going to be a cunt?

“Caroline, be nice.” Is that all you have to offer here Charles? Thankfully, the rest of cab ride passed mostly in silence, with Jane and Lizzie occasionally chiming in with remarks about the area. Having been in the city for nearly two months, they had gotten to know the area surrounding Regent’s quite well it seemed. Blessedly, it was a short ride from Charles’ house to Lock 17, traffic not being nearly as unbearable at eight on a Thursday night. I couldn’t get out of the cab fast enough once it stopped. The brisk autumn air was a welcome cure for the nausea brought on by my nervousness from my proximity to Lizzie and the overwhelming stench of Caroline’s perfume. Once everyone had disembarked, we began the short, uphill trek to the bar. Caroline slipped her arm through mine and snuggled into my arm.

“Will, I’m cold.” She whined. Whose fucking fault is that Caroline? I didn’t pick out your stupid outfit. It’s autumn, in London. We’re by water. What the fuck did you expect?

“Guess you should have worn something a little more sensible.” I replied, struggling in vain to extricate myself from her grip. The more I struggled, the tighter her grip got, like Devil’s Snare. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the smirk come back to Lizzie’s face. Well I’m glad I can provide her with some entertainment. There was barely a queue when we got to the door. The step up into the building caught Caroline off guard and I was able to slip out of her grasp. The main floor was not as packed with people as I feared it would be. Everyone is probably downstairs dancing. Pop music was filtering up from the basement area. I didn’t recognize the song but Caroline did because she went immediately down the stairs. Oh, thank fuck for that. The four of us that remained worked our way through the small crowd to the bar. Charles had his wallet out before we even got up to order. I got my usual Old Fashioned, a double though, since I was definitely going to need the sweet relief alcohol provided my anxiety. Lizzie ordered Rum Punch for herself and Jane. Charles got a Screwdriver and four shots of tequila. He knows I hate tequila. He does this every time we go out. Judging by the look on Lizzie’s face, she wasn’t too thrilled with the prospect of needing to throw back that vile shit either. The bartender set the shots down on the counter. Charles passed them out, then raised his glass.

“To new friends!” We clinked our shot glasses and threw them back. I shuddered. Jane and Lizzie looked like they wanted to spit it right back out. Charles took his like a champ, like he always does. We set our glasses back down on the counter and the bartender asked if we wanted another round. Jane, Lizzie, and I politely declined. We grabbed our drinks from the bar and Charles immediately led Jane to a nearby table, leaving myself and Lizzie behind. Lizzie was looking around, taking it all in.

“This place seems like kind of a hole in the wall. How did it catch the attention of two wealthy businessmen? I’d have figured this wasn’t really your scene.” Oh, God is she talking to me? Why is she talking to me? C’mon Will you know how to do this. You talked to girls all the time at uni. Oh, no I took too long, she’s walking over to her sister. Should I follow her? Yeah, idiot, otherwise you’d just be standing at the bar like a numpty. Why am I so bad at this? When I made it to the table, she was asking Charles the same question she just asked me. I took the seat on the left of Charles; Jane was seated on his right. I stared into my drink while Charles told her the story of the last time we had been sat in this bar.

“… so, we left the concert at The Underworld, it’s this rock club not too far from here, but Darce wasn’t ready to go home, so we walked around Camden for a bit until we found this place. We had been to Lockside, the restaurant just a little further down the canal, for a business lunch before, but we hadn’t been over this way at night since we were in uni. I had no clue this place even existed until we saw the queue.” Charles is so good at talking. Why can’t I be more like him? He went back to asking Jane questions about America, while Lizzie and I sat in relative silence, Lizzie chiming in every now and then to back up something Jane had said. I finished my drink and went back to the bar to get another. I was definitely going to need it if I was ever going to make an attempt at conversation with Lizzie. I stayed at the bar to drink my second and my third drinks. I was about to order a fourth, when Charles appeared at my side.

“For God’s sake Darce, what is wrong with you? I know you weren’t exactly thrilled to come out with me tonight but I didn’t think you’d be this broody. I was hoping you and Lizzie might hit it off. You’re quite similar you know. You’d see it if you made the effort to chat with her.” What do you think all this alcohol is for Charles? I’m doing my best, my dude. Ooh, my dude? I think imma tiny bit drunk. “I’m getting us another round and then we’re gonna go downstairs. And when I say we I mean you too. You used to be so fun at uni. I know you still have it in you, I think maybe you just need a little nudge to find it again.” I don’t know Charlie boy; I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy. He clapped me on the back and grabbed his and Jane’s drinks from the bar and went back to the table, leaving me with Lizzie’s drink and my own. Oh, that’s very clever Chuck, leave me with her drink so I have to interact… Suddenly Lizzie appeared at my side, taking up the space Charles had just vacated, swiping her drink from the bar. I must have looked visibly startled because she gave me that look again, the eyebrow and the smirk. She took a large sip of it and strutted away from the counter. My body seemed to move of its own accord, grabbing my drink and moving my legs to follow her. She led the way down the stairs while I brought up the rear. I didn’t know the song that was playing, but Lizzie seemed pretty excited about it. She grabbed Jane by the wrist, pulling her towards the dance floor. Charles trailed after the sisters like a puppy dog. Thankfully, the downstairs also had a bar, so I posted up on a barstool to work on my drink, ordering another one before long. I couldn’t see any familiar faces in the crowded dance floor; no Charles, no Caroline, blessedly, but, unfortunately, no Lizzie. I bet she’s a good dancer. She looks like she’d be a good dancer. I wish I could see the way she moves. I wish I wasn’t so damn awkward. I hope no one tries to dance with her. I don’t want anyone else touching her. Wow, four whole drinks plus one shot in – yeah, I was definitely drunk. How else could you explain me thinking about her like that? Like she already was mine. I nursed my current drink more than I had the previous ones. I decided to get up and walk the perimeter of the dance floor. Several songs went by before I caught a glimpse of her again. She was moving slow, in time with the beat. She was alone, but I could see Charles and Jane a little further in the crowd. None of them had their drinks anymore. They must have dropped them at the bar after I got up. Lizzie clearly knew the song that was playing; she was saying the words along with it. I could read her lips from my vantage point. We might just get away with it, religion’s in your lips, even if it’s a false god, we’d still worship, she threw her head back and ran her hand through her hair, continuing to sway her hips to the beat. The lights hit her and her hair reflected it, causing it to look even redder in light. Probably about the same shade as my face. She can’t look over here. She can’t catch me watching her. God, she’s so beautiful. A few more people moved away from the crowd and I got a full view of Charles and Jane. He was holding her close while they swayed to the beat, his arms around her waist. He whispered something in her ear and she smiled. Lizzie continued to dance. Several men moved around her, but no one tried to dance with her. How strange. She’s easily one of the most beautiful women in here. Can they not see it? Do they not see her? How could they ignore her like that when I can’t take my eyes off of her? Can’t they see how stunning she is? I continued to watch her move, imagining what I would do if I had the confidence to join her. What would it feel like to hold her close, like Charles is holding Jane? Would she let me? What if I couldn’t keep up with her? Would she taunt me? Or, would she help me? Would she guide my hips with hers? I could hide my face in her soft hair, pretend there was no one else here, just feel the curve of her arse as it moved against my cock. Oh okay, that train of thought needs to end. I cleared my throat and looked around, as if to double check that no one had heard that thought. I was so lost in my own fantasy that I hadn’t noticed Lizzie had vanished from my sight again, or that the song had changed. Charles, however, had taken notice of my new position and made his way towards me. Jane was no longer with Charles as he strode over. I looked around the room and caught a glimpse of red and blonde hair standing at the bar. They must have decided to get another drink.

“God, Darcy, I think I’m in love! Jane really is the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met!”

“That’s great Charles, I’m very happy for you. Don’t ask me for help picking out the engagement ring though, I don’t know a thing about jewellery.”

“Ha-ha very funny, but I’m serious Darce. I really like her. I’m really hoping that this is gonna be the one that’s lasts. I know its still early days but I just have a good feeling about it. I hope someday you’ll understand; feel how I’m feeling, you know? I think you might really be missing your chance here with Lizzie. I get that interacting with people makes you anxious sometimes, but I really think you should make the effort here. She could be really good for you. Just pull yourself out of your own head for once; have some fun!” Yeah, sure I’ll get out of my head Charles. Do you want me to go ahead and sort out Brexit too while you’re requesting the impossible?

“Charles, just because lightning strikes often for you doesn’t mean it’ll ever strike for me. And I’m okay with that. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Just enjoy your date, have fun. I’m alright on my own.” Good job Will, that should hold him over. Then maybe he’ll take the hint and stop forcing me to interact with Lizzie. I need to do it at my own pace.

“You’re right, Jane is absolutely incredible. But Lizzie’s very beautiful as well, you have to admit that.” No, I absolutely do not Charles. I shan’t and you can’t make me.

“I just hate seeing you looking so gloomy all the time. Lizzie’s fun and she’s very pretty. She’s got great energy. And she’s so smart. I really think if you just—”

“I get it Charles, but I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’ll work with Lizzie. She’s just, I don’t know, she’s too—," Gorgeous, intelligent, absolutely perfect for me in every single way, “I don’t know Charles, she just doesn’t do it for me, you know? She’s just not pretty enough to tempt me. She’s too soft, you know, in the belly.” What. The. Fuck. William. Patrick. Fitzgerald. Darcy. Why did I just say that? I just called her fat. Why did I say that? I didn’t mean that.

“Will, that’s really unkind of you to say. I think maybe you’ve been spending too much time around my sister.” I sure as hell hope not, but fuck if you’re not wrong. He started to walk away from me. I moved to follow until I realized he was walking towards Jane and Lizzie, who were standing about six feet away, each with two drinks in their hands. I recognized the one in Lizzie’s left hand as an Old Fashioned. My Old Fashioned. She bought me a fresh drink and I more or less insulted her to her face. There’s no way she didn’t hear me. This is why I hate clubs, they’re too loud. I have to yell to carry on a conversation. God, if you’re up there, I wish the ground to open up and deposit me straight into Hell where I belong, please and thank you. I walked towards them slowly. Lizzie stuck her left hand out for me to take my drink from her.

“I got you a fresh one. Seemed like you’d been working on that one for a long time. The ice’s all melted.” I downed the rest of the glass I had previously been working on. She was right, it was watery. She must have been keeping as close an eye on me as I had been on her. Strange.

“Thank you.” I took the new drink from her. She turned and walked away, heading back towards the bar area where it appeared Charles and Jane had gone to sit down. I followed, taking long draughts from the glass Lizzie had handed me. It was nearly empty by the time I reached them. I set my empty glass down on the bar, knowing all too well that my current drink would be joining it soon. But for the time being at least, I had something to occupy my mouth. Maybe that’ll keep me from saying something else stupid or insensitive.

“What have you been up to all night Will? Have you been out dancing? I feel like we’ve barely seen you all night.” Jane asked when I caught up to them.

“Darcy’s not a huge fan of nightclubs. He doesn’t like pop music. Or dancing. At least, not anymore. He only goes to them if I drag him, kicking and screaming. He didn’t always used to be such a wallflower, if you can believe it. He could really tear up the dance floor when we were at uni, right Darce?” He laughed. Drunk Charles really doesn’t know how to keep things to himself.

“I can’t even picture that. This guy doing the cupid shuffle at a college party? No way!” Have I really made such a terrible impression on her? I mean yeah, I guess I have. Lizzie laughed along with Charles. I deserved that. I deserved that. I deserved that.

“He sure could! But not anymore. He’s a serious businessman now and he only does serious businessman things. Like make spreadsheets and flow charts.” Alright the jokes can stop now Charles. He knows damn well why I don’t feel comfortable letting loose anymore. He knows what happened last time. The bartender called Last Call and the DJ put on the last song of the night.

“Oh, excellent! Last song of the night and it’s Jonas Brothers. Well I’m going back out for one last dance. Whadiya say Will? You wanna come with, show us all those dance moves Charles says you’re hiding?” She leant over, getting much closer to me than I was prepared for, eyebrow cocked again. “Or am I not pretty enough to tempt you?” She whispered it right into my ear. I shivered. She didn’t give me time to respond – she already knew the answer. She smirked at me and walked back to the dance floor. Follow her! C’mon legs, move! Charles and Jane went out after her, leaving me alone again. I downed the rest of my drink and settled up the tab Charles had started upstairs. I scheduled the cab to pick us up in five minutes and realized we’d have to track down Caroline. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I ground the heels of my hands into my eyes. When I took my hands away, Caroline had appeared at my side. Well, speak of the Devil and she shall appear. God, when I said I wanted to go to Hell, this isn’t quite what I had in mind. She leant against the bar, looking out at the dance floor, at her brother and Jane as they danced with Lizzie.

“We’re going to have to do something about that, Will.” Excuse me? What is this ‘we’ business? “Charles falls in love too easily. Jane seems sweet enough, but I don’t know about that sister of hers. I wouldn’t put it past her to involve her sister in some scheme. Try to get Charles to part with some of our money. Americans, they’re all so greedy.” That’s rich coming from you Caroline, seeing as you’ve been after my money since you were eleven fucking years old. However, I had to admit that she wasn’t completely wrong. Charles does fall in love too easily. It’s honestly been a miracle that I haven’t had to force a gold digger out of his life yet. I don’t get those kinds of vibes from either Bennet sister, but I’ve been wrong about people before, horribly wrong, and it cost me dearly. I decided I ought to keep an eye on them, for Charles’ sake, just in case. He’d been in so many relationships in the seven years I’d known him. Maybe Jane will be different, but maybe she won’t. The song ended and the lights came up. Jane, Lizzie, and Charles made their way back to where myself and Caroline were waiting at the bar. We followed the crowd up the stairs and out of the club. The cab arrived a couple minutes later and we got in the same way we had earlier. The nausea returned, but now I wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety, Caroline and her perfume, or the copious amounts of alcohol I had consumed. A combination of all three, I expect. The cab took Charles and the girls back to Hanover Terrace first. I didn’t get out. Charles clapped me on the side of my arm as he got out, knowing I knew what he meant by it: we’ll talk tomorrow. As we pulled away, I looked out the rear windscreen. Charles kissed Jane goodnight and hugged Lizzie before following his sister into the house. The Bennet sisters walked arm in arm back towards the park. I felt a pang of jealousy towards my best friend, at the ease with which he interacted with Lizzie while I couldn’t even open my mouth without insulting her. It took about fifteen minutes to get me home to Belgravia. I kicked my trainers off by the door and stumbled up the stairs, reliving every horrible moment of the night in my head with each stair I climbed. I got myself a glass of water and two paracetamol and set them on my bedside table. I collapsed on my bed and reached out to pull the wastebasket closer, just in case. I closed my eyes, but in the darkness, I saw her face. I covered my head with my pillow, but in the silence, I heard her whisper. I slept fitfully.

#Taylor writes #Pride and Prejudice #fanfiction #Modern AU #Mr Darcy #Elizabeth Bennet #Charles Bingley #Jane Bennet

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lifeinahole27 · 5 years

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CS ff: “On the Two” (Chapter 1/9) (au)

Summary: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Rating: E

Content Warnings: Borderline alcoholism, very brief mentions of past relationships, mentions of the loss of a limb - this fic is primarily tame but I’ll do my best to tag anything that might need tags.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Alcohol use, past injury mentions

A/N: Holy. Shit. I’ve finally found a minute to post chapter 1. Hoping to stick to a Thursday schedule for posting, and I can’t wait for you all to see this unfold.

I have to give shoutouts and love to three very important people to this process. @initiala sent this over a year ago: look i know you're busy and have a lot of fics, but just hear me out: CS Dirty Dancing AU. So. Now you know who to blame/thanks, like I’ve been doing! To @phiralovesloki for the heaps of emotional support and handholding when I needed it. I can’t imagine my life without you in general, let alone my writing process. And of course, my beta, my dancing expert, my sanity: @captainstudmuffin. Thanks for all you do for me, from proofreading to slapping me into action. I’m sure we’re even on boob punches... for now.

Catch it on FFN & Ao3!

Welcome to Camp Hope!

About Us

Years ago, Ruth Nolan operated these camp grounds as a haven for children to explore the fruits of the Earth and come into their own. For fifteen years, she oversaw the summers of thousands of children, all in need of the room to grow and eager to learn the skills of the outdoors.

In honor of Ruth’s hard work, we’ve re-opened the camp to those who still want to learn about the wilderness, explore the rich terrain that this coastal Maine property has to offer, and take the classes you’ve maybe not had time to take in the past. It’s not all outdoors, either! Our staff is composed of very talented individuals that are available to teach you almost anything, from dancing to the arts, yoga and fitness routines, as well as anything you’d expect from the average camp of summers past. You’ll enrich your body and mind and connect in ways you never have before!

A summer camp for adults may seem like an outdated or unconventional thing, but here at Camp Hope, we aim to improve the memories you may have of summer camps long past, or make new ones if this is your first time. Plus, now is your chance to try things like zip-lining without getting a consent form signed! There are plenty of perks to trying new things when you’re old enough to decide for yourself.

Please check our FAQs and pricing packages; your stay can be as short as a week or as long as the whole summer. Our accommodations range from your own private cabin to our brand new, hotel-style lodgings. We welcome you, and hope you’ll enjoy your experiences!

Sincerely,

Snow and David Nolan

Owners, Camp Hope Ltd.

-x-

Sifting through the mail on his table, Killian tosses the pamphlet for some kind of camping place into the stack to be thrown away. It joins the myriad of advertisements and coupons that he doesn’t bother to look at or ever use. Besides, if it’s a camp marketed towards adults, it’s likely something religious or a thinly veiled addiction recovery facility, and while he’s probably edging along the lines of alcoholism, he’s damn well not there yet.

There’s roughly a week’s worth of mail here, as it’s been a couple days since he’s even thought to check his mailbox, but he’s sure Liam will be up his arse any day here to go over his finances. If he makes it look like he’s been keeping things in order, Liam is less likely to give him his Worried Brother speech this month.

He sips at his coffee, pausing just a moment to pop two painkillers before resuming his sorting. When he’s hungover, the phantom pain where his left hand should be is stronger, and today is no exception to that. He hasn’t bothered to put on his prosthetic, content instead to leave it off until he has to go into public.

Days like this, though, he has nothing but time to mindlessly sift through his queue and get day-drunk. It’s been ages since Killian can remember going more than two or three days without a drink. That doesn’t stop him from unscrewing the top of his favorite brand of rum when he pours the second cup before he settles in to watch Netflix. He sprawls across the couch, happy as he ever can be to live off the settlement over the accident that cost him his hand.

There’s a bar down the street that he visits when he needs personal interaction, and if he’s lucky there might even be a woman willing to help with even more personal interactions. That’s what last night had been – him in the bar until closing, a brunette that he can’t remember the name of giggling as she pulled him towards her car. A short while later, a cab brought him home, alone, with a little less dignity than he had before.

The sound of a key in the door announces Liam’s arrival before the man himself calls out a greeting, and Killian is minimally glad for the distraction from the road of self-pity and/or loathing that he was about to embark down. He knew there was a good reason to starting his sorting today. He stashes the bottle of rum beneath the coffee table again, running his fingers through his hair real quick to tame it down.

“Ah, you are awake. Excellent. I thought we’d set your bills straight, and maybe head out for some lunch. Breakfast? What meal are you on?”

“Let’s just call it brunch. Eat first, bills second,” Killian declares, sending his spiked coffee one forlorn look as he realizes he’ll have to go get dressed and act like a responsible adult for a few hours. He takes one more gulp before taking the mug to the kitchen to dump it out.

He’s in his room for just over five minutes, using food as a motivator to get him out the door sooner. The shirt is mostly wrinkle free, and he thinks the jeans he slides on are clean, so he’s at least presentable and won’t have to deal with Liam’s tongue-clicking. He makes sure to snag his sunglasses off the entryway table before ushering his brother out the door. Had he taken much longer, Liam surely would’ve declared that the bills looked quick or manageable, and they’d take ‘just a minute more’ to complete. As it is, he can see his piles have been tampered with, straightened and organized to his brother’s preferences, as he glances back on his way out; he timed it just perfectly.

Halfway through eating, Liam takes a sip from his water before placing it back on the table, steepling his fingers as he rests his hands on the table. “I’ve just had a thought,” he says in a way that really gives away that he’s been sitting on this for a while now. “How would you like to get out of town for a while?”

“When? How long?” Killian asks, preoccupied by the task of trapping all the toppings on his sandwich. He hates using his prosthetic to eat, doing his best instead to wrangle the whole thing with his right hand while his left arm stays beneath the table.

“Over the summer? We could make an adventure of it. Maybe go back home, visit the relatives. It’s not like you’re doing anything here. As my own boss, I can afford to take some time off. We go, we live a little, return in the fall as new men. What do you say?”

The prospect of getting out of the city, away from everything that holds painful memories for him, does sound appealing. Spending the whole time with his brother, however, tarnishes it just a touch. It’s not that he doesn’t love his brother, but Liam has a tendency to be… a little overbearing.

Of course, for a long time after Killian’s accident, Liam probably had every right to be. He’d just lost a hand, for fuck’s sake. Coming just after the loss of his fiancée probably didn’t help, either, but Killian was deep in a hole of depression for so long he wasn’t sure he was ever going to see the surface again. Now, he’s not so much depressed as he is resigned to this life, unemployed due to disability, living off the accident settlement, and drinking away his feelings as often as possible without officially becoming an alcoholic.

The thing is, Liam’s overprotective shadowing of Killian’s life is nothing new. He’s been this way for as long as Killian can remember, and since Killian can only half remember a handful of instances with either their mum or their dad, it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibilities that Liam feels more like Killian’s father than his older brother. Still, every bird has to fly the nest sometime.

And Killian did for a bit. He flew, and was so close to having everything he wanted in his life – a job doing a craft he loved, a woman that he intended to marry and grow a family and home with, and still the taste for adventure on the tip of his tongue if he ever chose. But all good things come to an end, in his experience.

First was Milah’s passing. Her brief but destructive illness soaked up all their life savings, leaving Killian with a broken heart and empty pockets. He didn’t care about the money, and why should he? He lost the reason he was saving it in the first place. He could earn it all again, but he’d never have Milah back. And then, shortly after, as he helped wrap up a custom boat build for a wealthy client, something went wrong. He still doesn’t remember exactly what happened, just that one minute he had a left hand, and the next he didn’t; it really was that simple.

“I’ll think about it,” Killian finally says, abandoning the hand-held option for his food and dropping it back into the basket it came in. He stabs at the pieces of it with his fork and considers the offer. He will think about it, too; he’s not just saying so to change the conversation back to footy and traffic patterns. It’s been a long time since he’s gotten away. He’s set for life on a permanent vacation if he so chooses, but a change of scenery would be welcome at this juncture of his life.

The idea marinates all while they finish their meal, and the whole walk back to Killian’s apartment. He’s so hung up on the possibilities involved that he doesn’t even complain as they sit down with his meager stack of bills. He signs when he’s told to do so, with no remarks about the tedium of the task while they work.

By the time the afternoon is wrapping up, Killian has made up his mind. As Liam stamps the last of the bills and puts Killian’s checkbook back where it resides, Killian speaks up. “I’ve thought about your offer to get away for the summer. Might not be such a bad idea, after all.” He keeps his tone light, nonchalant, hoping that Liam won’t catch on that it’s something he might genuinely be excited about for the first time in longer than he can recall.

“Excellent. Leave all the planning to me,” Liam says as he stands and throws the trash into the bin. “I’ll send you a packing list when I’ve finalized the plans and we can meet up again to get everything squared away for a couple months out of town.”

With a shrug, Killian extracts himself from the couch in order to see his brother out since all their business is complete. In his distracted state, he misses the gleeful look on Liam’s face; it’s an expression his brother was infamous for as they were growing up and meant that Killian was about to be served a life-lesson, and he likely wasn’t going to enjoy it very much. But he’s so lost in his thoughts about all the places they may go – both familiar and new – that he bids his brother goodbye and settles back in for his slightly interrupted day of Netflix.

He doesn’t even slip more rum into his glass until after he’s had his dinner.

-x-

Emma Swan is just as much a part of Camp Hope as the camp is part of her. For the last fourteen years, Emma has been making the journey of varying lengths back to the campgrounds; it’s something a lot like flocking home for the summer, and she’s made the trip from right in Storybrooke – the tiny town closest to the camp – and from as far as Tallahassee, all those years ago.

This year, she’s traveling from just outside Boston along with her roommate, Ruby. While the stories of their upbringings are vastly different, Emma and Ruby have been two peas of a pod since Emma’s first trip.

Back then, she was journeying to Camp Hope as part of a foster kid outreach program. It was two glorious weeks that she and twenty-some other foster kids got to go to someplace new, rather than waste away in a group home or get shipped off to bible camp again. She was fourteen, and while some of the crafts and activities were aimed at kids much younger than her, she still sat at the table and made bracelets, tie-dyed a shirt and bandana, and participated in capture the flag with water balloons like it was her first time, but that’s mostly because it was.

At the campfire that night, Ruby plopped down next to her, showing her the “right” way to toast marshmallows and offering to put red streaks in Emma’s hair so they could match.

Emma passed on the streaks, but the next day when Ruby dragged her to a special meeting for future counselors, it was all history from there. More than just finding a way to spend her summers that didn’t involve wallowing in her own loneliness and isolation, Emma met David Nolan during the counselors program. Upon picking up bits and pieces about her, David decided to introduce Emma to his mother. As soon as Ruth met Emma, she was set on bringing her on as a permanent fixture in their lives.

Having previously thought that she’d never find a place that wanted her, a place that wanted someone old by foster standards and jaded beyond reason, Emma was shocked. Not only was she wanted, she was loved. Despite the three year age difference, and the short time they’d been together, David became her best friend and brother, with Ruby a close second.

There was a shared passion of dancing between Emma and Ruby, and when they weren’t raking in the volunteer hours during the summer, they were saving every penny they earned from their respective guardians to take dance lessons one town over. And that’s the way it went until they graduated.

Remembering what happened after graduation always leaves Emma with a pit of shame in her stomach that feels a lot like indigestion, so when she wanders to the kitchen, she pops two antacids before starting up the coffee maker. It used to be worse, but time heals all, even wounds that don’t feel like they’ll ever scab over.

It’s time for their annual trip back, just two days away, and Emma has too much to do to spend her morning in a guilt trip over things that happened in the past. Instead, she wanders down the hallway to get Ruby up. There’s a whole list for her friend to complete today, and she’s pretty sure she’s also battling with a hangover from being out too late the night before.

She knocks, only twisting the knob and entering the room after hearing the faint groan of invitation. “Hey there, champ. Good morning!”

Ruby groans again, struggling to push her eye mask off her face and groping for the pain killers and water on her nightstand. She’s one of those drinkers that’s always considerate to her morning self – something Emma has always been in awe of. “You’re not the morning person, stop sounding so chipper,” Ruby instructs after drinking down half the water. She hauls herself to sit up, patting the edge of her bed for Emma to sit down. “What’s on your Snow-style agenda for the day?”

“I’m going to clean. You’re going to wrap up the sub-let on the studio space. Graham is supposed to be down there around noon, so you’ve got time, but I need you to grab the costumes we’ll need for performance nights.” She leaves Ruby to get herself out of bed, and calls out that she’ll get breakfast started.

“Don’t break the toaster!” Ruby calls from behind door that Emma closes on her way out, and while Ruby can’t see Emma rolling her eyes, she knows her friend will sense it. It was one time.

Leaving for Camp Hope has always been a little tumultuous for them, but after this many years, Emma thinks they’ve gotten a little better at it. There were a few years where they weren’t going back to work camp, and those are the years that make Emma’s heart ache most – more than the year she refuses to think about.

They closed the camp when Ruth’s health suddenly declined the year after the year-that-shall-not-be-named, and Emma and David only made the journey every week to tend the growing weeds and mend the deteriorating buildings the best they could. With Ruby’s help, they were able to keep the camp from falling apart, but the same couldn’t be said for them. Ruth passed the winter after Emma turned twenty, and she lost the closest thing to a mother she’d ever found.

Luckily, they had one more to hold their family unit together. A year after Emma met him, David met Mary Margaret Blanchard, better known to her friends as Snow, and Emma got to witness fairytale levels of Love at First Punch between them. Down the road, the wedding was a bit rushed, so that Ruth could watch her son get married. Years after the quick engagement and marriage saw them going stronger than ever.

For two years, the camp remained closed, but David and Snow, thanks to an off-hand comment from Emma, decided to reopen the beloved summer camp as an experience for adults. It took a whole other year until they could renovate everything up to standards, but it was worth it. The first year they opened again, it was so profitable and the waitlist was so long that they were easily able to expand and enhance the experiences.

Shaking her head, Emma realizes she’s spending way too much time reflecting and not enough time moving. Down the hall, she hears Ruby’s water start up, and knows she has until the time the taps shut off to get that woman some hangover worthy breakfast. Pouring herself a large mug of coffee, she takes three deep, scalding gulps to get herself going.

She’s just plating up some eggs and bacon, snatching a bagel from the toaster so Ruby can construct her own breakfast sandwich when the roommate in question comes ambling into the kitchen.

This is Emma’s favorite version of Ruby. Stripped of her makeup, without a product in the world in her hair post-shower, wearing an old t-shirt and boxers for her pajamas. Her usual persona is an elaborate mask, with the heavy makeup and killer manicure, flirtation just as exposed as her long, lean legs normally are. The short shorts and low-cut tops are standard everywhere but at home. That’s the Ruby that will likely crawl into her car bright and early in a couple days, but today she’s happy to spend time with average Ruby, and she’s happy when she does not break the toaster again. There are small miracles, after all.

When both of them are settled at the breakfast bar with their food, they start talking strategy, both in prep for leaving and for camp itself.

“Are the costumes for the Waltz demo here or at the studio?” Emma asks as she alternates sips of coffee and bites of her pop-tart.

“The studio, I think. I’ll grab them when I meet with Graham and lock up everything else of ours.”

“Good. Don’t sleep with him this time, okay?”

“No promises,” Ruby says, a wicked grin spreading across her lips even as she tries to hide it behind her coffee mug.

At the very least, they might get a deal on the rent again, which is the only consolation Emma can think of. The rest of their day is a whirlwind, with Ruby taking care of the studio and Emma tidying up their apartment. She packs the bulk of their non-perishable foods to take with them, cleaning as she goes, until the whole kitchen is spotless. She also takes the time to write down the instructions and emergency numbers for Aurora, their downstairs neighbor that’s been kind enough to take care of their plants and fish while they’re gone.

It’ll be weeks until either one of them can make it back to the city, if they do at all, but Emma doesn’t mind. While she loves Ruby and living in the city, she gets her own cabin for the summer. They converted one of the old lodges into a dance/yoga studio, located just a short walk along the west trail from the main lodge. Behind said studio, they relocated one of the cabins and refurnished the whole place to act as the dance director’s housing for the summer. Thankfully, Ruby likes to throw herself into a multitude of activities, so she bunks in the staff cabins up the hill and leaves Emma to have her solitude.

Mostly, all that means is that no one will know that she’s in the studio putting in extra hours. Maybe this will be the year she can quit hunting down bail skippers and be able to focus on nothing but dancing. She can always dream, at least.

Ruby stops in only briefly to drop off a case of their costumes and check in, taking the time to change into a date dress and do her hair and make-up. She gives Emma a wink before she leaves and tells her not to wait up, before disappearing in a flurry of stiletto clicks and perfume. She doesn’t get home until late, when Emma is already tucked in her bed hoping to fall asleep. Her friend is humming and heads straight for the shower.

Emma’s not a bit surprised two days later when Ruby announces that Graham decided to pay more than they originally negotiated, and laughs at the wolfish grin on Ruby’s face as they throw their bags into the backseat and boot of the Volkswagen Bug that Emma’s had for years. They’re actually running on time for once, but Emma doesn’t expect that to last long, especially when, after only an hour, Ruby announces that she’s famished and starts calling out the name of food places they pass.

The trip to Storybrooke, on the coast of Maine, is one of Emma’s favorites. The scenic views from Boston onward are ones she’s familiar with, but that still lift her heart. The trip is only four hours if they don’t stop, but with Ruby’s pea-sized bladder, and her bottomless stomach, it’s more likely they’ll get there in five hours… if they’re lucky.

One year, it took them almost twice as long to make the journey because Ruby was chasing down the International Cryptozoology Museum and her cheap-o GPS meant that the museum (which was on the way) eluded them for hours until Emma screeched that they were done looking and if Ruby really wanted to see it, they’d find it on the way home.

They found it on the first try on their return drive, and Ruby bought her the biggest cone of Rocky Road ice cream they could find at a nearby ice cream stand, to make up for the original disaster.

This job that they do, this ability to go up and demo and teach dances to the souls that will wander through the paths of Camp Hope, is only possible because of the popularity of the camp. The first year, Emma and Ruby would switch off every two weeks, with Ruby piling all her lessons into the two weeks she was home and Emma trying to catch ask many bail skips as possible in between her own lessons and classes. When the popularity of the camp became apparent, they were able to rent out their studio space to a few other dance teachers in the area while they took the whole summer to attend to the camp. It helps that David is able to pay them, and pay them well, for their time and energy.

Along the way, Emma has met the heartbroken and the heartbreakers, she’s met dreamers and lovers, she’s taught cynics and optimists, and she’s danced for every person in between. The two of them together have dealt with perverts and assholes, handsy men and women who don’t take “no” for an answer, and people who have gone on to contact them once the summer ends to continue their lessons in the city. It makes it all worth it, these months away from all the comforts of home, to spend their summers in another version of home.

Plus, thanks to an excellent network of friends in Boston, they never want for anything from home if they forget it. It’s all just a PayPal and overnight shipping away, really.

As Ruby climbs back into the car from their third rest stop, this thought comes in handy. “I left my favorite performance shoes by the door,” Emma groans out as her friend seatbelts in and starts the car.

“Good, because I forgot to grab my sleeping pills off my nightstand,” she says, grinning quickly and dropping the sunglasses back onto her nose.

“I’ll text Aurora now.”

With the promise of a package imminently to be sent their way, Emma relaxes as the last of their journey passes by outside the windows. She zones out to the sights, not perking up again until they hit the Storybrooke town limits. They’ll top off the tank and stop in to see Granny for lunch (second or third lunch by Emma’s count) before heading up to the campgrounds. Her car crawls by each familiar sight, and Emma smiles at the simplicity of it all – the never-changing nature of their sleepy little town. While she only officially lived in Storybrooke for three years, it’s still the only place she’s ever called home.

Granny is already outside by the curb when they pull up, and Emma takes a minute to let Ruby climb out of the car to reunite with her grandmother. It’s only after she sees their hug loosen up that she opens her door, languidly stretching as she unfolds herself from the passenger seat. Then it’s her turn for Granny to gather her up and hug her so hard that Emma’s back cracks. She won’t complain, it definitely eases the travel tension to get a hug from Granny. They’re ushered inside the small diner the elderly (and boy, would be lose her shit if Emma said that term out loud) woman has run for the last billion years.

“When should I expect the first package from your neighbor?” Granny asks after their lunches have been set in front of them.

Ruby laughs, not even ashamed of the fact that they’re so predictable that her grandmother knows they’ve already left something behind.

“We’ll be back in town over the weekend to get it,” Emma answers.

“I already saw one of the trucks of shipment head up to the campgrounds,” Granny remarks as she refills Ruby’s coffee cup. “Your brother has been up there for weeks getting everything ready.”

“Please tell me he’s at least eating.”

“Snow has badgered him back home a couple times now to eat and sleep, and she picks up meals on the days they decide to stay up there. Sounds like you’re gonna have a full camp most of the summer.”

“That’s the plan,” Ruby says, beaming before she takes the last bite of her sandwich.

Emma waves them both off when they move to go into the back for more family time. It’s not that she and Ruby don’t get to visit ever, it’s just that the stretch between Christmas and camp time can sometimes feel like much longer. The same itch resides just below her skin – the need to see her brother and sister-in-law so strong that she almost slips away before she’s done eating and leaving Ruby to hitch a ride out later with one of the counselors that lives in town.

Instead, she idly swirls her onion rings through her ketchup, taking her time with making sure every crumb is gone from the plate while she waits. She glances around, waving to the familiar faces in the booths and at the counter beside her, and she grins at the large board already propped near the entrance that loudly welcomes the campers to town. Since the grounds are two miles north of Storybrooke, many will pass through on their way. Some will stay overnight in the bed and breakfast while others will stop for a bite and a fill-up before continuing on to Camp Hope.

Thankfully, the business that the camp brings to the town will mean that the owners of most, if not all, of the establishments will have their pockets lined for months to come, making the onslaught of guests and visitors worth it when the summer ends and they go back to something less than a speck on the map of Maine.

Ruby and Granny are back a short time later, while Emma is idly catching up with a sweet yoga teacher that goes by Tink. The name is fitting of the cherub-faced woman with the perfect curly bun of blonde hair on top of her head. She’s new to the staff, but not to the town, so Emma is happy to listen to her excitement bubble over as she discusses all the classes she’ll be teaching for the next few months.

“A little help?” Ruby asks, and Emma finally glances up to see her friend’s arms laden down with several bags of what Emma assumes are home-cooked meals, prepared in advance and packaged for the crew that’s already working on getting the grounds ready for the summer. She moves around the counter to take a few of the cloth totes, waving farewell to Tink as they head out.

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly; they use the main entrance to deliver the food to Snow, who’s waiting for them beneath the welcome sign when they pull up. Emma hugs her tight before transferring two of the bags to her. They make the short trek down to the main lodge where Emma gets to give her brother his own hug, tight and bracing and full of the warmth she misses when she’s away from him for so long. With lunch delivered, Ruby and Emma head back up to the car to move it to the staff parking.

The lodges they’ll each be staying in are much closer to their hidden lot than they are the main entrance, which works out well when they’re unloading enough luggage for four months, and maybe a kitchen sink or two. It takes them three trips up and down the steps leading to the lot: one to Ruby’s space in the staff lodges, one to Emma’s private lodge, and one to the studio itself.

Emma wastes no time turning on all the lights and stepping up onto the vast wooden floor. There are mirrors lining one wall, floor to ceiling, and another has all the cabinets where they store their costumes and gear. The wall opposite her reflection has windows spaced evenly apart, which she immediately starts working open even as Ruby brings in the last tote of their stuff. The air is a little stagnant, but flipping on the overhead fans will get it moving again.

Ruby drops the last container with their gear, rushing out to choose her space and start unpacking as soon as she can and promising to come back later to help get the studio in order. Emma waves her off, already itching to have the space to herself. Her muscles are practically begging to be warmed up, to take advantage of the wide open space that calls her name.

She knows she needs to clean first; the mirrors and windows all have that faint tinge of grime that comes from a long winter of neglect. The air conditioning unit needs to be tended to, as well, and tested to make sure it’s in working order before the summer starts in full. Then there’s the cleaning and organizing and stocking and… and Emma doesn’t care. She rips open the first bag she finds and pulls out leggings and a sports bra – they’ll do in a pinch. She changes quickly before skipping along the path back to the studio.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s selected something with an upbeat tempo, thankful again for the auxiliary port that allows her to play her own music from the impressive sound system. She sits on the dusty floors for a moment to slip on a beat up pair of practice shoes and lamenting again how she’ll have to turn her focus to cleaning next.

She takes her time stretching, making sure to work out all the kinks from the drive up and getting her muscles and body all warmed up. As soon as she’s on her feet, she’s running through swing patterns that she can do on her own. Through lines of sailor shuffles and slides, she dances using the whole dance studio, going from one end of the spacious floor to the other. She doesn’t get this much room in Boston. She doesn’t get this solitude. She doesn’t get this freedom. Maybe this is the real reason she loves coming back to camp so often, and there’s probably something in her psyche to deal with in those regards but it’s nothing she’s willing to look too closely into.

By the time the playlist switches to something for cooldown, Emma has worked up an impressive sweat. She grabs a towel from the same bin she found her shoes in, wiping down her face and neck before dropping back to the floor for final stretches. Placing the towel on the floor, she stretches out briefly, staring up at the ceiling and watching the fans whirl peacefully above her. This is it. This is home for the next couple months. And nothing will change how happy she is to be here.

With that thought, and a beatific smile, Emma changes back to her tennis shoes and hauls herself off the floor. There’s hours of cleaning ahead of her, after all.

Chapter 2

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #cs multichap #sarah writes ff

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amerioxfordan · 5 years

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in hindsight on my first term #4

maybe i’ve been reading too much oxfess while i’m away from uni, that i’ve paid attention to the criticism and defense of nights out that’s fought over on there, but since that’s in my head now, i want to talk about my experience with it!

so, in hindsight on my first term #4: clubbing and nights out and all that

i never went clubbing before i went to oxford (part of this may stem from the US drinking age being 21, but also my friends and i liked to meet up during the day rather than at night in general, so it’s probably not something i would’ve done regularly even if i could have), so my first experience was freshers week in Park End, and... that was also my last experience, so far, because while I went to Park End twice that week, I didn’t go to any other clubs and I haven’t been clubbing since freshers week. I am not qualified to say which of the clubs in Oxford is the best, because I literally only know the “cheese floor” of Park End, and I think it’s fun but it still isn’t something I’ve gotten around to doing again.

It’s not like I haven’t considered it - my friends and I were going to go to another club, Plush, after Queerfest, but somebody told us the queues were impossibly long so we turned around before we got there, and there was another night that several of my friends were going out after a party in somebody’s room, but i had just washed my hair and my grandparents were visiting the next day, so i stayed in cleaning my room for them, where i didn’t have to change out of my dressing gown.

But although I haven’t been clubbing any other times, I have gone out! I’ve been to every bop in my college except the one while I was away visiting family for the weekend. I went to Queerfest, which is basically a big Pride celebration in the Wadham gardens every year (and it sells out really fast but Wadham students get early tickets or I wouldn’t have been able to go). I went to the last two college bars on a bar crawl for some international students from different colleges to meet each other, and the first two pubs on a pub crawl for Oxford University horn players.

And I’ve enjoyed a lot of it! The groups of people I’ve gone to these things with, while different, are all people I like, and it’s fun to do something other than watching movies in the jcr once in a while!

So the first conclusion I’d like to make is that while I’ve seen people complaining anonymously that the only social life in their college is going out clubbing, I haven’t found that to be true in my college, or my group of friends (who, especially in the case of the horn players, were not all from my college). I could probably have done a lot better at socializing outside my college, but I definitely wouldn’t say my social life is miserable, I’ve enjoyed myself a lot on weekend nights even if I haven’t been clubbing since freshers.

And then the other complaint I’ve heard is drinking. Obviously, I’ve been on bar crawls, I haven’t been trying to avoid alcohol altogether. But when a lot of people talk about how all students do is get drunk, I... haven’t experienced that at all? I know which of my friends can’t handle alcohol very well and will need some help walking after they drink, but I haven’t gotten drunk for any of the things I described going out for, and I never felt like all my friends were drunk or were pressuring me to drink.

So, when I went clubbing, I had a cup of red wine at dinner in hall before my first clubbing experience, which is really not enough to get drunk, and nothing at all before the second. I drank a can of cider slightly fast before the first bop and giggled a lot, but that’s not very different from my normal level of giggling. I had the ~signature drink~ at each of the two college bars I went to on the bar crawl, but I actually barely drank anything of the Hilda’s college bar drink, and other people were quite happy to finish it instead and leave me sober enough to look at my maths problem sheet again. On the horn pub crawl, I had a half pint of cider at the second pub only, and drank it in small enough sips that it lasted all the drinking games. I don’t have anything against people who want to get drunk, or enjoy alcohol, or enjoy hanging out with people more while a little bit tipsy than they normally do, but in my experience all these drinking-associated things can be perfectly fun while sober, and most people aren’t dicks about you deciding to be sober if you want to be :)

my friends and i also stay in college and play Never Have I Ever a lot, with weak enough cider that nobody gets really drunk, or watch stupid movies while consuming junk food rather than alcohol, so it’s also possible to have a healthy social life that orients around none of the things i’ve described so far in this post.

(and having gotten drunk on rum and coke one night in college with my friends all supervising me in the jcr, while i spilled half my drinks and ate three quarters of my oreos, i think i am actually qualified to say that all those other times, i wasn’t just drunk but not realising, or something)

#studyblr #studying #student #university #oxford #oxford university #college #wadham college #clubbing #alcohol #drinking #my american oxford

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shakesonaplane · 6 years

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Mad Times in MAD City: Drinking our way through Madrid

Hola everyone! Today we’re going to learn a lesson: how to “drink” a city. For those of you who know me, you’re aware that my side-hustle of a bartender makes me keen to explore the alcohol and cocktails of a city when I visit it. Whenever I visit a city, I aim to find the cool drinking spots in addition to searching for the culture and local flavors. So, when my brother recommended we visit Madrid after his work trip in Europe, you had better believe I saw an opportunity to “drink” a city. Now, whilst I know that phrase sounds really odd, and even potentially gross, rest assured nothing out of the ordinary happened on this trip. Well, by out of the ordinary I mean potentially illegal, bc a lot of things you can get up to in Madrid might seem a bit different to the average person. If at this point, you need a definition of what “drink” a city means, please go pour yourself a cup of something strong, finish it, pour another cup, and read on…

Something tells me Fidel’s Rum might just be superior but also comes with a hangover that would rival Cuban Communism

But, before we start, a quick lesson. I know that in most of the world, when we think of tapas, we think of small, shared plates. A classic restaurant experience where we order a couple things to share and then have a nice meal and maybe a drink or two. Fun fact for you: that is not what tapas really is. I learned this lesson when I first visited Barcelona in 2014 with someone who had lived there in college: tapas is really just an excuse to drink. As one of the many stories go, bartenders in Spain (some say Seville) started putting saucers and breads on top of their customers opens glasses to keep the flies out. Upon doing so, they realized that customers would come back if they offered some small bites like olives or cheese, hence Tapas (which literally means “on top”) was born. (By the way, there are a myriad of stories on how Tapas started, I just chose that one…though without fail they all seem to center around drinking). So, if you go out in Spain now, just know that Tapas are a thing to do alongside drinks and not just a quiet endeavor to eat some food. If you don’t order a drink and don’t seem to have one, I can attest that you will get a quizzical look from the local spots we tried. Recommended Tapas by yours truly were found in La Latina district called Txacolina and Casa Lucas.

I summoned my greatest willpower and only chose a few dishes here instead of my first inclination which was to ask for one of everything

I don’t often talk in too much detail on the drinks I personally consumed bc I realize everyone’s tastes are quite different and, as a person who enjoys all flavors (read: drinks too much), you can find some fun anywhere. Just note this: if you’re Tapas-ing (new word?) during the early afternoon, chances are you’ll have to taste the Spanish Vermouth, by far one of the easier Vermouths I’ve had to drink. We looked around quite a bit when we ordered a beer at this hour and noticed several of these martini glasses full of a wondrous concoction. Upon the realization that it was Vermouth, we quickly ordered our next round of this soul-clarifying elixir and briefly thanked the fermentation gods for such a lovely creation. Quick Shakesonaplane rule of thumb for drinking Madrid: If it’s sunny, vermouth or white wine…if it’s just after dark, beer, red wine or a cocktail…and if the sun is about to rise, liquor, water, and prayer (you’ll understand what I mean by that in a moment).

Example of Tapas and Nishu trying to show off the above mentioned “quizzical look”

Don’t fret, though…we didn’t spend this entire weekend drinking, though the option was certainly presented to us. We did try to find some time to experience the culture of Madrid as well as the amazing art and sights the city has to offer. And by culture, obviously, I meant finding a bar playing the Real Madrid match. Surprisingly difficult to do, Aakash (a fellow US traveler who joined our trip) and I found that not all bars will show the games, perhaps bc of the rowdiness than can follow. So, whilst Nishu and Anu (our final travel companion) were siesta-ing, Aakash and I found an Irish pub (go figure) to watch the Real Madrid match. While it is always a pleasure to watch football in España, I must say I would’ve preferred being at the match itself. But beggars can’t be choosers, so we endured.

Post siesta fun at just another local watering hole…still not sure if Spanish people do anything but drink all the time and I don’t mind at all

Perhaps the highlight of our cultural tour of Madrid was not related to drinking at all, but instead a walk through the Cubist section of the Reina Sofia musuem and a long, wonderful stare at Guernica, perhaps Pablo Picasso’s most famous piece of art. A massive drawing that takes walking across to really appreciate, Guernica is what a non-art-aficionado (like me) would call “pretty amazing”. The Reina Sofia has a multitude of really wonderful art to take in, so if you’re around in Madrid and have some hours to kill between drinks, I’d recommend a stopover before or during siesta time. The queue outside the Reina Sofia grew immensely when we left it, bc the evening seems to be a hot time to visit on the weekends, so plan accordingly.

You can’t take photos of Guernica, so apologies for the stock photography, but even looking at it again as I write his brings back a whirlwind of questions and emotions.

By now you must be wondering, well, hey, where’d all the drinking go? And you know what, so were we. So with our sleuthing hats on, we endeavored to find something tasty by way of cocktails in various areas. Being that I’m turning into a cocktail snob, the goal was to find really unique drinks in the coolest locations and best designed bars. Let me say this, Madrid did not disappoint. I’ve started to notice that Spanish cocktails are amongst the best mixed drinks I’ve had in many European spots. We delved into all manner of drinks across a few trendy cocktail bars, but if I had to recommend some I would point you to Salmon Guru and 1862 Dry Bar for the best fancy cocktails I had there. Be warned, these drinks are not for the light-hearted, so if you’ve felt toasty just reading my escapades in the past (or you’re not even close to done with that 2nd drink I told you to get), then exercise a bit of caution. That doesn’t mean skip it, that just means order yourself a glass of water as a chaser

Yes that’s a chili in my drink, yes it was spicy, yes it tasted like home

For our final foray into drinking away our time in Madrid, we ventured a place that has only been described to me as “don’t go before 3am”. So you can imagine my surprise when we rocked up at 3am and saw what was probably the largest center-of-city night club I’d ever seen. For those who aren’t familiar with the Spanish clubbing style, Kapital is the kind of place that doesn’t even open till midnight. And then you can venture across several floors of people, music types, people, drinks, people and oh did I mention people? Couple up Aakash, Nishu, and Anu and this nightclub and basically I knew that breakfast was going to be drunk food and that was that (which turned out to be Mexican tacos, somehow). I have to say, this was a pretty enjoyable clubbing experience, and I don’t often say that as I get older and the grey in my beard starts to win over the black. But hey, if I could handle myself till 7am with the best of them, then surely I can’t be that old (he said while sadly remembering his hangover).

I would describe what is going on in this picture, but let’s be honest, you don’t really want to know

So there you have it! A crazy weekend in Madrid that ended with me waking up after 1hr of sleep and heading to the airport for a flight back to London. To say I was tired the next day is an understatement. I even got yelled at by a woman at the lounge in MAD airport for opportunistically taking a cold shower there…unless I was so out of it that I didn’t realize I was hallucinating! I also realize after reading through this that there are a ton of dark, dank, and rather hilarious photos we took. Rest assured, we did see sunlight whilst here, and I do need to make a trip back to explore the other important sights of Madrid :)

As always, here are some photos from our trip there and a map to guide you along your way when venturing through this city, drunk or not:

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Hasta luego! Abhishek

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alexismav-blog · 6 years

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Merry Christmas

Author’s Note: Hello, this actually the first time I’ve posted my writing on Tumblr so please be kind. The characters in this short story are my own characters and this was just intended to be a short story to fill the prompt. I specifically chose cold night/no heater, “He’s not worth your tears”, and blankets for my prompt. This an entry for @justsomewritingprompts Writing Prompt Challenge so please enjoy! One final note italics are Emeric’s texts and bold represents Alec’s texts.

As Alec sat in the living room of an apartment he hasn’t been in for months drinking rum alone on Christmas Eve, he wondered what he had done to God to land himself in this position. My parents probably would have told me that when their son decided to sleep with men was the moment God condemned me, he thought after the first few glasses.

Alec heard his phone vibrate on the coffee table. He got up from where he was sitting on the couch taking the bottle of rum with him to see what was sent to him. He sees a few unread messages from his sister and uncle, and a couple from his friends wishing him a merry Christmas. At the top were a few messages from Emeric. The first few messages were a couple of pictures of Emeric and all their friends in their stupid Christmas sweaters with a tall man he presumed to be Alaric glaring in the background. A couple of the messages were videos of Wes’s drunken political rants. The messages looked to be from a couple of hours ago.

It’s only been two hours and Wes is completely wasted. I think that’s a record, the text under it read.

Are you honestly surprised? I’m guessing Josiah already tried to cut him off?

Yeah but he somehow managed to find more. I swear he’s a walking liquor store during the holidays.

Alec laughed a bit at the reply.

As he started his rant about capitalism yet?

No he didn’t quite make it there, Josiah made sure to take him home before he got that far. How’s your Christmas going?

Alec looked over at the empty bottles of liquor lining the kitchen counter.

It’s alright.

You sure you can’t swing by tonight? The invitation is still open, no Christmas sweater required. You can even bring your fiancé if you want.

The thought of seeing all of them is so tempting. After all, Emeric is only next door but Alec took a good look at how terrible he looked and how much Emeric and all their friends were smiling in those pictures and he decided against it. He wouldn’t want to bother Emeric with his petty issues.

No, It’s ok. I’ll probably swing by after New Year’s.

You sure?

Yeah, Merry Christmas.

Happy Christmas. Just let me know if you change your mind.

He plugged his phone to charge in the kitchen. He then walked back over from the kitchen and flopped onto the couch to get in a comfortable position as the aging sofa groaned in protest. By this point, he probably looked like a proper mess, his normally neatly combed blonde hair was rumpled and knotted beyond repair, his caramel brown eyes were bloodshot from crying, and his suit was wrinkled and his tie went missing sometime during the evening. He leaned over to grab off the coffee table the ring his now ex-fiancé gave back to him at dinner that evening as he wondered what went wrong.

Was he gone too often? Was he too cold and distant? Did Thomas think that he wasn’t serious enough about their relationship? Did he ever make Thomas feel trapped and overwhelmed? Alec couldn’t help but to be bitter about the sacrifices he had made for a one-sided relationship. He changed his friends. He moved out of his own apartment after graduating college so they would be closer without Thomas having a longer commute. Alec started working significantly less so he could be home more. He stopped going out without Thomas. Alec took care of the bills, the apartment, food, and anything else that happened to pop up. He did everything for a jealous ass who Alec came to find out had been cheating on him for most of their relationship.

He could no longer bear to look at the reminder of his failed relationship so he weakly tossed the ring out of sight and curled up into fetal position facing the cushions of the headrests. He attempted to fall asleep to the white noise of the heater whirring. As he resigned himself to yet another sleepless night, the whir of the heater stopped dead.

“Of course,” he grumbled.

He honestly shouldn’t have been surprised that the ancient heater broke down but it didn’t stop him from being a bit peeved. He refused to get up until it was so cold that he couldn’t stop shaking. He flipped over onto his stomach and placed his hands flat on the couch and pushed up in attempt to get up. Unfortunately, he got up a bit too fast causing him to become a bit dizzy and disoriented. He moved to steady himself of the armrest when his hands slipped causing him to lose his balance and tumble off the sofa nicking the coffee table before crashing onto the floor with a loud thud.

*******************************************************************************************

Emeric’s Christmas Eve was a fairly standard affair for the first time since he moved away from his friends in England. While his parents were unable to join him, his older brother and a couple of close friends were able to come. As per usual, by 10 in the evening Emeric’s friend Wes was already blackout drunk forcing Josiah to take him home before Wes hurt himself. Emeric, his older brother, and his sister-in-law were seated at the dining room table simply talking. To be more specific, grilling Emeric about his non-existent love life while Emeric checked his phone to see how his friend, Alec, was doing.

“Emeric, it’s been two years since you’ve even attempted a relationship. That’s completely unlike you,” Tsuna sighed.

“Tsuna, how many times have I told you that I’m fine. I just moved to America less than a year ago. I can’t even take time to adjust to a new country?”

“Little brother of mine, you and I both know that that is complete and utter bullshit. If I can remember correctly, it only took you about two months to find a serious boyfriend when mom and dad sent you to boarding school in England,” Alaric interjected

“So?”

Alaric raises his eyebrow, “You could only speak German.”

“I didn’t invite you here to be lectured about my life choices.”

“You make me wear a stupid sweater, I get to be nosy. It's a fair deal. Seriously though , I haven’t seen you single this long since you were pining for Grace - No,” Alaric smirked, “You like someone don’t you?”

“No, no I don’t.” Emeric’s phone went off.

“Emeric, who are you texting?” Alaric teased

“No one,” he sighed, “Excuse me for a second”

Emeric walked over to the kitchen alone to read the reply from Alec. He attempted to convince him to come over. When Alec declined, he left the invitation open but respectfully backed off. Emeric turned around after wishing him a Happy Christmas to see Alaric looking over his shoulder.

“Who’s Alec, Emeric? Judging by his contact photo, he looks awfully young for you. Pining for a student of yours are you?” Alaric quipped.

Emeric rolled his eyes, “Alec is a co-worker of mine, I met him when I was still a TA and he was a grad student, he’s not that young. Not that it matters because he is just a friend.”

“But you admit that you like him?” Alaric pales. “He isn’t straight, is he? ‘Cause if he is I’m really sorry about talking about it. ”

“That’s not the problem, He’s engaged ” Emeric glares, “He’s engaged to someone he cares for quite dearly and I’m not going to mess that up for him.”

“So you’re not going to try anything are you? Please don’t tell me you’re still hanging around him?”

“His wedding is next month,” Emeric sighed, “I’m going to be there to support him like I’ve always have.”

“Please tell me, you’re not going,” Alaric pleads.

“Kinda hard to skip the wedding, if you’re the best man.”

“Em-,”

Emeric cuts him off, “It’s fine, no matter what he’s still my friend first. If he’s happy, that’s good enough. I’ll move on eventually,” his voice trembles, “Just please go. I’ll see you on New Years.”

Alaric and Tsuna both quickly left the awkward situation, leaving Emeric by himself in his apartment. Emeric left the kitchen to grab his laptop from his room to drown his sorrows in Netflix. Just as he was about to queue up the first movie, the sound of the heater stops.

Emeric groaned but eventually raided his apartment for every blanket he could find and cuddled up on the couch. Just as Emeric was finally going to start the movie, he heard a loud crash coming from Alec’s apartment. As soon as Emeric realized where the sound was coming from, he bolted out of his apartment to rush to see if Alec was okay.

*******************************************************************************************

As Alec made an effort to get himself up, he felt a dull throbbing pain spread from where the left side of his body made contact with the coffee table. Just as he was able to get back on his feet and started walking towards his cell phone on the kitchen counter, there was a knock on the door.

He opened the door to see Emeric, ugly Christmas sweater and all, standing in the doorway with his black hair ruffled and green eyes filled with concern.

“Jesus it’s freezing,” Emeric shivered, “Are you alright? I heard a crash and I wanted to make sure you and your fiancé were ok?”

Only God knows what came over Alec but he just started sobbing. Emeric rushed him back into Alec’s apartment to sit down. They sat on the creaky sofa for what felt like hours as Alec sobbed into his shoulder while Emeric murmured assurances to Alec in attempt to get him to calm down. His tears eventually ebbed down to the point where Alec could actually meet Emeric’s worried green eyes without breaking down.

“I’m sorry,” Alec mumbled, “I’ve just been having a pretty crappy night.”

“It’s ok. Just threw me off that you started crying out of nowhere. Well not out of nowhere,” he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m guessing it has something to do with the fact that you’re drunk alone on Christmas instead of with your fiancé?”

Alec looked down as he started fidgeting with his hands, “Ex, he’s my ex-fiancé now.”

Emeric’s face turned paper-white, “I’m so sorry. I feel like a bit of an ass now.”

“It’s alright, you didn’t know. It’s just,” he started rambling, “My douche of an ex just wanted to have ‘a holiday to ourselves’ so I didn’t get to see my sister or uncle when I haven’t seen either of them in well over a year. A-a-and then guess what? He decides to call off our engagement a month, a month, before our wedding because, you guessed it, he’s been cheating on me with his best friend for three years of our four-year relationship and he just wants to ‘move on from this’.”

He could feel himself start to cry again, “I just feel so stupid because I sacrificed everything for him. I gave up my family, my friends, my financial independence because I was dumb enough to think, ‘Well he’s stuck by my side since we were kids surely he would continue to do so’. I did all this to be told sorry, I’ve never actually loved you. Now I’m going to have to explain to everyone that sorry, the wedding’s off because my fiancé is sleeping with his best friend. And of course, of course, when I get back to my apartment which I haven’t been in for months, the heater breaks down on the coldest night of the year and all my blankets and crap are back at his apartment.” He takes a deep breath,” I’m sorry. I know you were with your brother and I’m just wasting what little time you have with him and you don’t want to hear all this depressing stuff on Christmas-“

Emeric grabbed Alec’s hands and cut him off, “It’s not a problem Alec. Even if Alaric was still here, which he isn’t, I would still want you to tell me what’s upsetting you. I would be a terrible friend if I wouldn’t try to help you. Trust me when I say that you have every right to be upset and I’m happier knowing that you’re sharing these problems with me instead of drowning them with a bottle of whiskey. Okay?”

“Ok.”

Emeric let go of Alec’s hands and stood up, “I’ll be right back just give me a minute. He runs quickly out of the apartment.

After a few short minutes and a couple of thuds, Emeric walked in with a large pile of blankets and his laptop precariously balanced on top. Alec moved to stand up to help him.

“No, you just sit down. Give me a second to situate everything.”

Emeric laid out the mountain of blankets on the couch and sat down right beside him. He turned his laptop on and pulled up Netflix.

“Any preferences?” Emeric asked

“Home Alone?”

“I thought so.”

Two movies later and Alec found himself falling asleep curled up against Emeric’s longer build with Emeric’s arm wrapped around Alec.

“Alec,” Emeric whispered.

Alec murmured an acknowledgement as he turned to look up at Emeric.

“I’m really sorry that your Christmas was ruined. The way your ex treated you was absolutely unforgivable. I hope you realize that you didn’t deserve what he did to you. There is far more out there for someone as loyal and kind as you than sleazy, unfaithful men like him. Trust me when I say, he’s not worth your tears.”

Alec hugged him tightly,” Thank you, I don’t think you realize how much I needed that today. Merry Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas.”

The two of them drifted off to sleep cuddled together, the frigid winter night forgotten under the warm pile of blankets.

Final Author’s Note: This is a bit later than when I was planning on posting this but I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

#justsomewritingprompts #justsomewritingprompts writing challenge #writing #christmas

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rudimentaryrecollections · 7 years

Text

Glasgow 01 – 05 July 2017

My things are dry. My feet rested. I go downstairs for breakfast. It is the best I’ve had this trip. Full English with black pudding, which I find I like. The bread is fried in butter. It is large with a lot of coffee. The perfect thing to restore me further.

I walk to the city centre and buy a groundsheet for a pound at Poundland, and dubin wax to reproof my boots. I also buy croc sandals, my boots are too heavy and painful for my feet now. I would take them to a doctor, but it appears there are none open on Saturday.

I catch the train to Glasgow. The city centre is nice, the standard affair of large old buildings and pleasant streets. I get rained on heavily and then the sky is nothing but sunshine. Welcome to Scotland.

And in my time here I discover Glasgow to be a bit rough around the edges. The city centre is nice, but it’s surrounds are still recovering from post-industrialisation. I see many taverns with no windows, derelict buildings, people tripping out (on drugs) and beggars in what appear to be nice suburbs close to the city centre. It appears that they are using street art, music and other culture to help rejuvenate the city, and there are many nice murals to be discovered which lively up their surroundings. Aye, it is being gentrified.

I walk the streets towards my Couchsurfer host’s house, which is about 20 minutes from the centre without getting lost.

To my surprise there is a male Tasmanian there too, Dom. This catches me off guard, but I am quick to adjust. At first I think he is her partner or housemate. But soon I learn he is also a Couchsurfer. He is younger than me, only 20. I give Eliza a bottle of wine for hosting me. She is in her thirties, so I wonder what wisdom she may have.

She feeds me soup and hurries me along, we have somewhere to be by 7. We follow the river Clyde to our destination, chatting along the way.

They seem a bit clicky, as Dom keeps talking about things that happened on their big night out yesterday. He reminds her of the unnecessary tequila shots they had at a nightclub, and questioned if he owed her anything for the drinks last night, which she dismisses. I be myself, and quietly acknowledge their chat, then take what opportunities I can to learn about each of them.

We go to a planetarium, and enjoy a dome show, travelling through the universe learning about stars, planets, constellations and spacecraft.

After we walk back and have some drinks. Eliza is tired from the night before, but Dom is in the mood to celebrate, as today marks one year since he left Australia.

He talks a lot, and seems to enjoy being the centre of attention. I generally like people who talk a lot, since I am quiet myself. However that can depend on the quality of the words. He enjoys telling me what I should do in my travels or how I could have done certain things better. I try to get to know Eliza. She is quiet like me and is not one to talk over someone else.

We go to a bar briefly and I do not let Eliza pay for any drinks, seeing as though she paid for the Planetarium. When Dom goes to the bathroom she talks to me quite freely, about her son in Poland, and how she was on MDMA the night before without Dom knowing. She did not remember getting home the night before, which raises an eyebrow from me.

We return to the flat after Dom’s round. Eliza puts on some candles and fairylights and the ambience is nice.

She cooks me a fillet of Quorn – a vegan chicken breast made from mushroom proteins. It is nice. Dom appears to get jealous of her niceties towards me, after she tells him his vodka tonic mix is too strong. He says, “What’s the matter, we were getting along just fine until Bluey here showed up!?” She ignores him, what other response could he have hoped to illicit?

It is not the first time he has called me Bluey that evening, which irritates me. Words won’t harm me, but when he says it there is venom in his tone. Dom has been in control of the music. He asks me if there is anything I would like to put on. I say the music is fine. Eventually he insists. I queue a track. It starts to play. It does not make it halfway through before he changes it.

When Eliza goes to the bathroom Dom talks quite openly to me about how Eliza turns into another person when she drinks, how she was grinding him on the dancefloor last night. I do not know why he tells me this. I smirk in my mind, thinking that alcohol and MDMA will make a person more feely. But outwardly I tell him that she did not remember getting home the night before, so she may not remember that either.

When it hits midnight it marks Dom’s anniversary of being overseas, and he has an emotional spiel. He takes selfies with us and we have tequila shots. The drinking continues into the wee hours and Dom is the first to retire, to the spare bedroom.

I am drunk. Eliza is too. She stacks the dishwasher, and now I am the one to drunkenly ramble. It would seem whoever is youngest in this home has the most to say. I express I would like to get to know her more personally. She expresses she is tired and it’s best to sleep.

I bid her good night and pass out on the couch. I get up at midday and tidy up. Eliza is up and bids me good morning. She does not remember the end of last night, which concerns her. No wonder, with two strange males in the house. My memory is hazy, but I tell her I recollect her putting the dishwasher on, before she went to bed, and I went to couch. She is relieved. She asks what I want to do today. I ask for suggestions. She suggests taking a train to Loch Lomond, a national park nearby. I say it sounds delightful.

Dom is up now. Today he was to go to Edinburgh. I assumed he would leave when he got up. But when he hears our plans he decides to take part. I am not thrilled by this. But like any time, I resolve to make the most of my situation.

My hangover has me anxious. My social batteries have already been worn down. My ability to take the initiative in situations has somewhat disappeared. I think I should organise breakfast, but before I know it Eliza has gone to the shops and comes back. She cooks a feast with Dom. They must think I am vegetarian, as they do not give me haggis. Dom does not like it, so I eat it. It is nice, a peppery liver flavour. For all it is made out to be an acquired taste, I quite like it.

We catch the train to Balloch, which takes a little under an hour. Eliza and I sit exhausted. Dom sits and prattles away. Sometimes he says things that he has said the hour before. When Eliza yawns he says, “You need coffee.” Or “There is only one cure for a hangover, more vodka!” She yawns more than once during the day. He offers for us to put our jackets in his backpack. We both decline, we both have arms to hang them from, from where it is easier to put them on if we’re caught in a shower.

I tire of him, and long for the quiet of the trail. I practice mindfulness, and dismiss some of his comments with what I like to call conversation enders - ‘True,’ being my personal favourite.

We get cheap coffee at Balloch. It is strong and picks me back up. I am more talkative and humour Dom’s talking points. Loch Lomond is beautiful. Lakes and forest stretch as far as the eyes can see. Gentle drizzle rains down. We lap around some trails for a while then catch the train back. Dom insists on gifting me his lighter for my camping. Later he complains that I took it from him. I offer it back, and he murmurs that he can’t take it on the plane anyway.

As we walk back from the train Dom asks if he can stay for another night, as it is now quite late in the afternoon. Eliza politely inclines. He thanks her and says he will cook dinner.

I knew such a thing would happen. He offers me Eliza’s sons bedroom. I decline as I was comfortable on the couch. Back in the flat, I throw myself onto the catch and sigh. Alcohol withdrawal still affects me. I enjoy the quiet for three seconds before Dom follows me and says, “I know how you feel.” If he did he wouldn’t be talking. He asks me if I want the bedroom again. I decline as all my stuff is in this room.

Eliza suggests we watch a movie. The best suggestion. Movies provide noise, so extroverts don’t feel the need to chatter. Dom goes to the shops and cooks dinner while I show Eliza some Andrew Ucles videos. After dinner I put on Hunt for the Wilderpeople, which we all greatly enjoy, then Chef. Eliza goes to bed before Chef is over.

When it is over, Dom asks me for the third time if I want to sleep in the bed instead of the couch. I answer again that really it is fine, I sleep well on the couch. Having asked so many times, he seems to want his way with this. But I will be the first to rise out of us two, and I do not wish to tip toe around the living room in the morning.

Eliza has gone to work cleaning when I arise, and I make a strong coffee. I drink it and wander north along the Clyde. I am anxious still. I have no idea why I feel I have done something wrong, and make up reasons in my head. I practice mindfulness. Listen to the gulls, and see them float in the sky.

I remind myself of my characteristic introversion, and how it is nothing to feel ashamed of. I just needed space, time alone, to recharge my social batteries. Or some alcoholic juice. I always wanted to get really drunk in Glasgow, perhaps inspired by Irvine Welsh characters, and today will be the day. I buy a small bottle of rum and finish it before returning to Eliza’s to grab my bag.

She is on break from work. We eat lunch from our own food supplies together. Dom has left. Again I am now the one to chatter. I talk with her about her life, and what she has coming up. She will study Chemistry at university, which I encourage. She seems solemn, and I almost sense sadness that her house will be quiet again. Or perhaps I am mistaken in my intoxication, and really she is just tired. When it comes time to leave we hug twice and she asks me to send her photos. I know I will stay in Glasgow for at least another night, but I do not wish to impose on her. So I depart.

I am happy, my anxiety vanished in this last interaction.

My Couchsurfing experience complete, I set foot towards the centre of Glasgow. I drink beer on the street. Then in a pub as I charge my phone. I speak to Spanish travellers. I have no plans. I book a hostel near the Necropolis, a large graveyard on a hill. I wander through it. It is a sunny, beautiful day.

After being subject to chit-chat as relentless as the Northumberland drizzle for two days I appreciated being alone. Sitting in the sun alone. Reading a book alone. Watching the river Clyde alone. Drinking in the park alone. Alone but not lonely. Otherwise known as solitude. A valuable thing, as a dear friend once expressed to me. Aye my friend, solitude is bliss.

When I get to the hostel I pass out for a while in my bed. I awake still a bit drunk, and go to get some food. The hostel is called Tartan lodge. The walls are plain, except on some there are canvases coated in tartan cloth on the wall. It is not my idea of art, but better than nothing I suppose. I sleep easy. In the morning I am hungover.

I do not know where my room key is. I do not know if I paid a deposit for it. I am anxious again. I pay for my oblivious blitheness the day before with dehydration this morning. I panic about the key. I do not want to lose a deposit or pay a fee. There is one at reception on the desk. I sneakily take it and hand it in as I checkout. There was no deposit. Just a fee for losing one.

I laugh at the panic I felt before the key, and congratulate myself on my sleight of hand.

“Let’s not get drunk like yesterday on our own any more,” I agree with myself.

The day is grim, and I am aimless. I find a library and try to catch up on journal entries. The librarian gives me an hour PC code. I get through my York entry, and halfway through my Newcastle entry. It takes me a long time to write these. I assure myself that it will get easier, more succinct the more practiced I am. It is a good writing exercise, and if I keep it up I will see improvement. It is the last time I find myself doing a journal entry for three weeks.

I wander through Glasgow again. I go into the museum of Religious Life. It is more interesting than it sounds. The artworks are very inspired, and the beliefs and stories of Gods outside of Christianity are fascinating. Across the road is the oldest house in Glasgow, another museum. I walk through it and tire. After buying tinea foot powder, I look up the nearest hostel and head towards it.

Hot tub hostel, known for it’s hot tub. The receptionist tells me people bang in it. If I want to use it, I will need a staff member to turn it on. It takes an hour to heat up, and the rule is you must shower before using it. Sounds like a breeding ground for micro-organisms that would love the broken skin on my feet. I tell her I’m looking forward to a quiet night in, no hot tubs necessary.

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