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lonelycowgirls · 11 months

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Tongue-Tied

I'm ovulating and I'll give no other explanation.

Thank you for your time.

Warnings: smut | harry in barcelona Word Count: 1.9k

Angel: You better get your man, Stell

Angel: Sent 1 image

Looking to the side at her phone as she washed the dishes and cooking utensils she’d used to make up her breakfast, Stella’s brow furrowed, her belly flipping wondering what he’d done now. He was three shows off completing Love on Tour and the gravity of tour being over was starting to hit home for both of them, especially Harry. The result; him growing more and more uninhibited on stage.

She swatted gently at Delilah who was perched on the only clean tea towel in the house - she really needed to catch up on some laundry - and dried her hands on it once the cat had slinked off, heading for the cat flap at the back door. She unlocked her phone and leaned back against the sink to open the text thread she shared with her work friend.

The image wasn’t actually an image, but a GIF. A moving image of her partner playing guitar, her eyes widening as she watched him lean down to enact the motion of playing the strings with his tongue. She watched it repeat on a loop a few times and chuckled dryly to herself. This man was becoming unhinged.

Stella: Now where have I seen that action before…?🤔 Angel: Oooooh get it girl!!!👏🏾👏🏾

Stella laughed to herself again and opened up her TikTok. Her For You page often had a lot of Harry on it, because that was the content she found herself liking and sharing. Whether it be a sweet fan interaction she would share with Anne or a video of Harry tripping or stumbling she would have a giggle over with Gemma and Dolly.

As she scrolled, her feed was jam-packed with content surrounding Harry at his Barcelona date. This wasn’t uncommon, as it was obviously the most recent concert. But the focus was a little abnormal. Emphasis on the ab... People were going feral over Harry’s body and she couldn’t help but smirk to herself. He did look damn good. She often complimented him on his newly buffed-up physique, but she didn’t want to stroke his ego too much. That got enough stroking every time he galloped on stage.

This was maybe a little different though. She thought to herself - she’d probably not seen him look or act this sexy since the first One Direction stadium tour. Back when Harry’s hair was the longest it ever got to and he made it everyone’s problem.

She tapped on the Clock app on her phone to check the World Clock for the time in Barcelona. It was just gone 9am in London, making it around 10am where he was. She wasn’t sure if he’d still be sleeping or training or out sightseeing, but she tapped on the FaceTime icon anyway.

Walking through to the living room as her phone dialled his, she glanced out of the window and rolled her eyes at the rain pelting the glass. It was so unfair how he got to be in the sunshine while she was practically engulfed in a typhoon. Bloody England. She glanced down at her phone again when the little chime alerted her that he had answered and connected.

His face filled the screen, a glowing orb of yellow sunlight behind him surrounded by blue sky. His bare shoulders and the trim of a parasol peaking into the frame indicated that he was by the pool or on the beach. Bastard.

“Oh my God, look at that weather.” Stella groaned, collapsing back on the sofa with a flop. He chuckled and moved his sunglasses to sit on top of his head.

“Good morning to you too.” He replied, resting back against the sun lounger and squinting at the screen. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your beautiful face so early?”

“Oh, nothing much, just getting digitally assaulted with pictures and videos of you whoring yourself out for thousands of people. The usual.” Harry laughed as she rolled her eyes at him.

“What do you mean?” He questioned loudly around a smirk.

“You know, I haven’t seen that tongue move like that in a while.” She mumbled, now displaying her own smirk.

“Oh,” Harry chuckled, this time running a hand down his face as he remembered his actions and finally registered what she was talking about. “God, I dunno what comes over me.” He said smiling, dimples on full display and cheeks slightly tinted in a blush.

“Well, I hope it comes over you again when we go to Italy next week…” She said softly, almost certain he wasn’t alone - he never was. He smirked and lifted an arm to rest over his head on the lounger. She could see the muscle in his biceps move under his skin with the motion, the tattoos rippling and causing her to drop her head back against the sofa. She really wished he was there, now.

“Yeah? Would you like that, Stell?” She nodded and he sighed, folding his lips into his mouth and furrowing his brow. He eyed her neck as her head leaned back against the back of the sofa and watched her long lashes blink over her hooded eyes. He couldn’t wait to have her in his favourite place, her tanned skin smooth under his palms, couldn’t wait to feel her pulse under his fingers as he wrapped them around her throat. “Want me to do the same on your little clit?”

Her lids closed as she inhaled and smiled with a nod, teeth digging into her bottom lip. Suddenly, her expression changed to one of pain as she raised from her position on the sofa. “Shit, H I need to go get ready.”

“For what?”

“I’m meeting your sister for yoga in like half an hour.”

“Ah great, I needed someone to say something to help me get rid of this tent in my trunks. Mentioning my sister always does the trick.” He said sarcastically with a thumbs up to the camera.

“Aw, you got a stiffy for me? Let’s see.” Harry rolled his eyes and brought the camera down to his shorts. Barely there but noticeable if pointed out, a slight bump was peaking up from his black Nike swimming trunks. He swiftly brought the camera back up to his face, Stella beamed at him on the other side. “I’ve still got it.” She said with a wink.

“Always have, always will.” He said sincerely and she bristled, feeling a warmth spread through her at the look in his kind eyes. “Come on Stell, let me help you before you go.”

“Help me what?” She said, a brow arched knowingly, she knew what he was up to.

“You know what. Let me give you a good one, so I know you’re thinking of me when you’re in your downward dog.” She snorted, looking away and then looking back at him.

“Alright fine, but you need to put your AirPods on or something.” She conditioned, not wanting Brad or Mitch or anyone who may be around him to hear her through the phone.

“Don’t worry, I’m on a patch of free beds, behind some palm trees. There’s hardly anyone here and Brad’s in the pool.” She nodded and waited for his instructions. “Take your bottoms off, baby.”

She dutifully did as he said, sliding her pyjama shorts off so that she was bare, perching a leg up on the coffee table so that she was open to herself.

“Give your fingers a lick, three of them.” She bit her lip and nodded again, making sure to angle her phone at her face as she sunk further into the cushions of the sofa. She brought her fingers up to lick a long stripe up the surface of them, not waiting for him to tell her what to do next and bringing them to start rubbing circles into her clit. She sighed at the feeling of her fingers getting wetter and wetter with the way she was already so turned on.

“Eager aren’t we?” Harry smirked, wanting to rut his hips into the air but restraining himself. “A girl who always knows what she wants.” Stella’s brows knitted in the middle as a ripple of pleasure coursed through her. “Keep rubbing that pretty clit, baby, that’s it. Is it all swollen?” She nodded, an audible moan quietly escaping her. “For me?”

“Yes, Harry. Watching you lick that guitar… fuckin’ hell.” She sighed, shaking her head, almost in disbelief.

“Yeah? Did that do it for you, baby?” She nodded and moaned as her lips folded into her mouth. Picking up the pace of the circular motions on her clit. “Want my tongue working on you like that?” She nodded, swearing and looking down at where her hips had begun to swirl along with her fingers, complimenting her wrist's motions. Harry had to see. “Show me, Stell.” He said, low and gruff.

She brought the camera down, angling it so her full body was in view, her vest ridden up to just below her boobs, her naked bottom half bucking and twisting in the air. Harry nearly doubled over.

“Fuck me. You’re everything.” He groaned, bringing a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes tight. Trying to control his hips and body’s reaction to her stunning image. “Keep going, baby, good girl. Can’t wait to have you in my bed again. Gonna lock us in our villa and make you scream.”

Stella’s moans became louder and louder as she chased her high. “Yeah, that’s it, get yourself there, Stell, come on.” She panted and groaned as she brought the three fingers he’d suggested into her slick hole, pumping just right, getting closer and closer. “You’re fucking beautiful, my God, wish I was fucking there.” Arching up, Harry’s view was almost non-existent as she writhed, the phone in her hand no longer her priority. “I’ll be on my knees for you, soon as I walk through the door.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” She gasped, her fingers now rubbing ruthlessly across her clit, toes curling and stretching.

“Give it up, Stell.” With that, the phone was dropped. Stella’s fingers dug into the softness of the sofa as she squealed and panted, writhing, her other hand not relenting on her pussy. Harry waited patiently, still giving her appreciative comments of how good she was, how gorgeous she was, how he loved her so much. Her hips finally found their place again on the edge of the sofa as she collapsed back down to Earth. Catching her breath, she picked up her phone again to see him smiling softly at her, only before laughing at her red cheeks and messed up hair. “Enjoy that, babe?”

She giggled back, blowing at a strand of hair that had fallen into her face. The familiar feeling of a post-orgasm making her glow from within. “Mhm, feeling good, baby.” She breathed, completely blissed out. She wanted to kiss him so bad, almost ready to climb through the phone to get to him. “Oh, shit.” Stella laughed slightly, Harry’s brow furrowed at the change of pace. “Gem’s just text me. She’s just left. I’ve gotta go, Gorgeous. Love you.”

“Alright, Stell,” Harry said, sitting up in his lounger, placing a foot on either side of the bed in a straddle. His full chest and upper body now visible, making her belly flip once more. “Good job I came in my shorts, knew you wouldn’t wanna return the favour.” He shook his head, playfully tutting in disappointment.

“Aw, you poor thing.” Stella pouted, before giggling and raising from the sofa, running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it. “Have a good time cleaning up!” She joked, before hanging up and trotting up the stairs. Her phone pinged almost instantaneously.

Harry: Glad I could be of service 🫡

Stella: Don’t worry, I’ll show you my downward dog later 😉

~~~

That was fun.

Nel xo

P.s. you can read the rest of the pieces from this universe here.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fic rec #harry styles love on tour #harry styles fic #harry styles x oc #btaa #starry <3 #harry styles concept #harry styles gif #harry styles barcelona

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eimids · 7 months

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Big bad flight

Lionesses x reader

Ok but imagine this lucy during this fic.

kinda part 2 for emotional support water bottle but also not. Just a blurb about reader being scared of flying.

Warnings: flying, angst but 90% fluff, probly full of mistakes

You were supposed to be flying to spain to have a match against them. Spending your childhood in England, you rarely travelled. At least not by plane. Although you were 19, you only have been only once in a plane. But now being part of the lionesses, meant flying.

You didn’t admit your nervousness to anyone. You just wanted to brush it off and get over yourself. The day of flying came too fast for your liking. You had training, some recovery, dinner and then you were supposed to go to the airport and take off.

Training went quite smoothly and recovery was nice. You got a massage from one of the physician’s at it helped you to take your mind off of the stress of flying. During dinner though, you barely ate which didn’t go unnoticed by your teammates. Lucy was eyeing your plate and you most of the dinner. She didn’t say anything, just decided to keep an eye on you.

Esme was really helping your nerves when she sat down with you in the bus. She talked about making a bracelet for you and was asking what colors you wanted. You went with basic blue and pink. She then tried to teach you how to make them but it didn’t really work out for you so you just laughed and gave up after your third attempt.

When you arrived to the airport your nerves kicked in again. Lucy noticed how you went silent and weren’t you usual talkative self. For you, now was the time you realized that you were actually going to have to be in a medal cage in the air. It sounded horrible.

“You okay kiddo?” Lucy asked when she walked to you. She took your bag in her arms to carry it for you.

“Yeah I umm” You started but didn’t find the words.

“It’s okay to be nervous” Lucy said which confused you. How did she know? “I noticed you’ve been a bit weird all day so I just figured it was about flying?” Lucy told you.

“Yeah I’m not really used to traveling by plane and I just don’t like the idea of being kilometers in apart from the ground” You answered truthfully. It felt nice to talk to Lucy about it.

She continued to talk to you as you made your way through security, baggage claim and all that. Then it was time to board the plane. You stayed close to Lucy the whole time. She was your safety net during this flight.

“Ooh is someone scared of flying?” Kiera teased you as she noticed you were paler than usual and not talking at all.

“Shut it Kie” Lucy confronted her girlfriend. She knew that it was enough for you to be scared, you didn’t need the teasing.

You sat in a window seat with Lucia next to you. Kiera sat in the isle seat. During this all you had your water bottle secured on your backpack. It was the other thing that calmed you down. Sipping from it once in a while, it calmed the nerves to have a familiar activity.

You were fiddling with your fingers and scratching your cuticles. Lucy just took your hand in hers and squeezed it. You started to plai with her fingers instead of your own. Playing with her rings and listening to miss Swift was enough to get you through the take off.

Your nervous tick being drinking from your water bottle came with the fact that eventually during the flight you had to leave the comfortable safety of your seat and walk to the bathroom.

You didn’t want to bother sleeping Lucy and just walked to the bathroom of the plain. Just then the turbulence kicked in. Just in time when you locked the door and started to pee.

Your heartbeat quickened and tears were brought to your eyes. You quickly just washed your hands and went back to your seat that was your safety. Lucy was there. Having been woken up by the turbulence.

“Come here sweet” She said and opened her arms for you. You sat in your seat and leaned yourself on her arms. They secured themselves around you. The pressure felt nice.

“It’s okay y/n, we’re about to land” It was Kiera this time that talked to you.

You nodded and stared to play with Lucy’s rings again. It was distraction from the shaking of the plane.

Quick enough you were landing. It was a big relief for you and the lump in your throat was washed away. Lucy gave you a smile of assurance that this would stay between the three of you.

When you got off the plane you were quickly the same bubbly girl the whole team knew and loved. You were quick to catch up with Less and Ella. They were laughing with you the whole bus ride to your hotel.

—

Sweet little blurb <3

#woso x reader #lionesses #lucy bronze #wlw post #kiera walsh #fluff #woso community #woso fanfics #blurb #lucy bronze x kiera walsh #x reader

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wosowrites · 10 months

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One Time Won’t Hurt (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

warnings: ⚠️smut smut smut. like… loads of it⚠️

prompt: in which you and alexia try to convince each other that one time won’t hurt, but it doesn’t end up being one time.

a/n: this is so bad but i wanted to get something out for u guys

Bodies tangled, lips a mess, hands feeling, touching, exploring, hips grinding, loud moaning. And that was all before clothes even came off. "One time," you exhaled into her lips, pressing your foreheads together and letting your breath get mixed. "One time won’t hurt," she added, putting her hands on your ass and pushing you impossibly closer into her.

You audibly whimpered and then gasped as she started kissing your neck. Alexia moved aside the strap of your shirt and then your bra, kissing your shoulder.

You breathed out, digging your nails into her back and moaning into her ear. "Yeah. One time," your cried out.

Five hours earlier

Alexia, Mapi, Ingrid, Sandra, Patri, Keira and Lucy were sitting in your apparement, having wine, cheeses, charcuterie and other snacks. You were all talking, laughing and having fun. Only issue was your spanish wasn’t great and although you tried to concentrate and really understand what they were saying, you were mostly just exchanging lost looks with Keira.

Eventually, you got up and went into the kitchen to open another bottle of rosé. Keira followed suite.

"Jesus. I don’t know what they’re saying. I heard my name and they all looked at me and laughed and I did too but I do not know what they said," you sighed. "I mean we take spanish classes like three times a week and then in real life they talk so speedy it just-" you started ranting. "They said you were clumsy during training today," Keira said, popping open a bottle of champagne. "I was gonna open wine, and how did you get that?" you asked her, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. "Okay so maybe i’m becoming able to pick up sentences here and there…" she said. "No. No, no, I can not be the only non spanish speaker on the team Kei. I’m cutting you off from spanish lessons!" you groaned, walking into the living room.

You spent the rest of the gathering zoned out on Alexia. She was sitting with her legs slighting open and her arms crossed and all you could think about was how beautiful she would look in that position minute her clothing.

At 11:00, people started to leave which you were silently grateful as you were tired and honestly feeling left out even though that wasn’t the intention of the girls whatsoever.

You had moved to spain six months ago and had been playing for Barca since the January transfer window. You loved the style of play here and almost everything about it, but you did feel like an outsider.

You bid goodbye to the girls and then let yourself fall on the couch. You sighed heavily, your sigh turning into a tremble as you felt tears come to your eyes. Moving away from england had been harder than you anticipated. You heard movement behind you and shot up to your feet. Alexia stood in the doorway of the washroom. "Sorry, oh, everyone’s gone," she said, looking around. You swiped at your cheeks and nodded. "Uhm, yeah. Sorry I completely forgot you were in there," you said. "It’s okay, I ended up getting a call from Ona so I was in there for a while," she said. "Are you okay y/n/n? You look-"

"Spain is hard," you answered, not wanting to draw out the conversation longer than necessary. "What do you mean?" she asked, sitting down next to you. "I mean that I don’t know what you guys are saying. I pretend I do but I really don’t. And I feel like I’m not good enough to play here," you sighed, putting your head in your hands and resting your elbows on your knees.

"Don’t think that. You are one of the most brilliant players i’ve ever seen. And as for spanish, ditch your tutor. I’ll teach you for free," she said, brushing her fingers through your hair.

And then your feelings of sadness were gone and all you felt was an extreme need for Alexia to be under you.

You straightened up and looked into her eyes. And then you stood up and walked into the kitchen. You poured yourself a glass of water and downed it. Alexia stood up and gently walked towards you. Her movements were careful, calm and composed. But the last thing you wanted was careful, calm, and composed. You wanted loud, harsh and possessive.

So that’s what you did. You spun around and almost charged towards her. She looked taken aback but also turned on. You placed your hands on her waist and backed her up into the wall with a loud thud. You moved your hands up and down her hips before squeezing her waist. "Is this okay? Because I don’t want soft and nice. And if that’s what you want tonight I don’t want to push you," you said, looking into her eyes.

"Do whatever you want with me," she moaned.

You audibly whimpered and then gasped as she started kissing your neck. Alexia moved aside the strap of your shirt and then your bra, kissing your shoulder.

You breathed out, digging your nails into her back and moaning into her ear. "Yeah. One time," your cried out.

"Oh i’ll make it hurt," she whispered to you. And although her words made you want to scream of pleasure, you wanted to be in charge.

You lifted Alexia’s legs to wrap around your waist and carried her into the bedroom, attacking her lips and making sure to leave them bruised and swollen. You pushed your stomach against her pussy, wanting her to feel the temptation at her core before you gave her any kind of relief.

You dropped her on the bed and then towered over her. You took a pause to pull off the shirt you were wearing, never looking away from her. You looked straight into her eyes but she was staring at your and, your tits peaking through your bra and the way your arms looked so strong. A crack of thunder echoed outside and the brief thought of how Mapi and Ingrid, who had walked to your appartement, we’re probably stuck in the rain while you were standing over the most beautiful woman in the world.

You snapped out of your trance and looked at her hungrily. You un buttoned her shirt, wanting to be rough but knowing very well her shirt was silk and she would kill you if you broke it. Or at least that’s what you thought. "Fuck just rip it off. Rip it off y/n," she groaned. You did as she wanted, grabbing the shirt above the buttons you had undone and ripping it apart. She shrugged it off and you unbuttoned her pants and pulled them off. You then quickly abandoned your own pants and panties. You pulled off her own panties and then unclipped her bra and your own.

The sight of her was intoxicating. The shape of her breast, the little birth mark just under the left one. "You’re fucking hot," you growled at her. You were much more the kind of person to call girls beautiful but today was a different case. You had one night with her and you would make the most of it. Slowly, you placed yourself on your knees so that your core was over hers. You flattened your body on top of hers while supporting your upper body with your hands at her sides.

You started your attack on her neck by kissing it roughly, sucking it and then nipping at all her sensitive spots.

Alexia was a mess within seconds. Groaning at your touch and screaming when you would randomly collide your knee with her clit. Dripping all over her, you positioned yourself so that her left leg was wrapped around your waist and your pussies rubbed together. You slipped the slow stage and went right into grinding onto her. "Fuck, you’re so perfect," you moaned into her ear, feeling her nails digging into your back. "I thought you were going to be mean," she huffed, dragging her nails down your back. "Rough, not mean," you said to her.

With one last push onto her she came first, moaning your name and crying of pleasure.

You came soon after, your brain fuzzy, your body ecstatic. You didn’t want to push your luck with Alexia, so you let yourself fall beside her. "You okay?" you asked her, your bare chest heaving. "More than. Are you?" she asked. "So okay," you smiled. "I knew you were soft. You’ve always been soft," she said, turning on her side. "Maybe only for you," you giggled.

Needless to say, it didn’t happen just once.

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #alexia putellas

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prairiesongserial · 3 months

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23.3

“Well, what about you?” Cassidy asked.

It took Val a moment to realize he was being spoken to. He’d tuned out about halfway through Cassidy’s story. Val had very little doubt that the captain had embellished their history to keep the princes entertained. Not that there was anything wrong with that. So far, Cassidy was doing a better job holding the princes’ attention than either John or Val had.

Val blinked at Cassidy. “What about me?”

“I’ll bet you’ve got a story or two,” Cassidy said. They were still sitting on the floor, looking expectantly up at him. “A man doesn’t just trip and fall into smuggling two princes over a national border.”

Val glanced to John for assistance. The other man had sat down at the table and was apparently too busy buttering a slice of bread to help.

“I’m not a good storyteller,” Val said. This was patently untrue–he had to be, to keep a congregation’s attention–but he also hadn’t slept in what felt like days and wasn’t at all in the mood to tell a story.

“How do two Americans get all the way to England, anyway?” Cassidy asked.

“We came on a ship,” Val said. John gave him a hard look, which he ignored. Cassidy deserved at least the bare minimum of honesty about the situation; the captain was technically here against their will, after all. “And there were four of us.”

Cassidy’s eyebrows shot up. “You lost two people…did they die?”

“We were separated. After we deal with the princes, we…” Val trailed off. Probably best not to let Cassidy know the whole plan, even if he was trying to stay honest. “We’re going to try and meet up again. I left one of them a message and told her where I’d be waiting.”

He was starting to grow uncomfortable with Cassidy’s eyes trained on him, but Cassidy was blocking the door, and there was nowhere else to go in the small cabin. Val settled for crossing to the windows and sticking his face out of one, wrinkling his nose as the smell of the sea hit him full force.

“You didn’t say why you came to England,” Cassidy called.

Val turned around, leaning with his elbows against the window frame. “No, we didn’t.”

Even tired and hungry, there were still hundreds of other stories he would rather have told than the story of what had happened in Maine. If he thought about the fight at the barricade for too long, it was like pressing his fingers to a hot pan and holding them there.

Cassidy looked momentarily like they wanted to pursue this line of questioning, then gave up.

“What kind of ship?” they asked, instead.

“A big one,” Val said. This, he could talk about. He had been so checked out for most of what had happened on the Demeter that it felt like it had happened to a different person. “We thought it was going to Canada, but it turned out to be going to France instead. Most of the passengers were rich folks from France, lots of nobility.”

“Not much news makes it out of France these days, I hear,” Cassidy mused.

“Did you meet the Dauphin?” Gawain asked. His eyes were wide.

“You could say that,” Val said wryly. “He was in disguise as a detective aboard the ship.”

“Bullshit,” Cassidy said. They were sitting up straighter in front of the door, looking utterly incredulous. “A detective?”

Val nodded. “People were being murdered aboard the ship.”

The princes both looked aghast at this. John gave Val another look. Val shrugged back at him–the boys had been hanging around the rebels for months, there was no point in pretending they hadn’t been exposed to things like murder. There was, after all, an ongoing attempt on their own lives.

“The other two we were traveling with, Cody and Friday, decided they were going to find the murderer,” Val went on. He still didn’t have a good grasp of what Cody had been up to on the ship, but he could tell his and Friday’s end of things easily enough. “We were also in disguise; most of us were pretending to be rich folks. Friday, she…put herself in a position to be the detective’s sidekick. She has a way of doing that kind of thing.”

“How many people were killed?” Percy wanted to know.

“Did she catch the murderer?” Gawain asked.

Val held up his hand to Gawain, gesturing for him to wait. It took him a minute to count up all of Sacha’s murder victims. “Five…I think. And yes, she caught them. Eventually. I even helped her out, a little.”

He carefully neglected to mention that the dirty bandages on his neck and wrist were from the strange occurrences aboard the Demeter. Not even John knew where they’d come from, and Val preferred it that way.

“For a while, it seemed like the murderer could kill passengers even if their rooms were locked. They managed to frame Cody for one of the killings that way. Some people thought they were climbing around the outside of the ship like lizards, coming in through windows–”

There was an abrupt squealing noise of wood on wood. John had gotten to his feet, pushing his chair out from the table. Both princes looked to him curiously. Val did, too, and was surprised to find John looking somewhere between furious and seasick.

“Need some air,” he muttered, and gave Cassidy only a few seconds to shift out of his way before he left the cabin, door banging on its hinges in his wake.

That was right. John had very nearly been a victim himself. One of Sasha’s cohort had crawled through his cabin window to kidnap him. That was how he’d ended up in the pool, where Val and Cody had saved him. No wonder he’d looked so tense about this story being told.

Val felt his face flush with guilt.

“What’s his problem?” Cassidy asked.

“He was next on the list to be killed,” Val said. “I helped save his life.”

At this, Cassidy looked pensive. They were quiet for a moment, then spoke again.

“So, who was the killer?”

“It was the Dauphin and his friends. They were playing a sort of mystery game with the other passengers. The Dauphin’s friends were killing people from a list of victims off, so the Dauphin could play detective.” Val couldn’t hide the distaste from his voice. He truly did not like Sacha.

“Wait,” Cassidy said. “For real?”

“The Dauphin of France?” Percy asked, his voice shrill.

“I’m also going to get some air,” Val said, answering none of their questions, and started for the door. Cassidy let him go, but he could still feel their eyes on his back as he departed.

John was on the deck with his back to the cabin door, leaning on the railing. Val approached him slowly, exaggerating his gait so that John could hear him coming long before he reached the rail. John said nothing, and did not turn around.

“I’m sorry,” Val said, once he was standing next to John. “I–”

“You forgot,” John interrupted. His voice was clipped. “It’s fine.”

It did not feel fine. Val folded his arms on the railing, rested his head on his arms, and let out a heavy sigh.

“You’re right to be mad. I wasn’t thinking.” He paused. “Well, I was. I was thinking I didn’t want to tell the story of what happened in Maine, but I had to say something more interesting. Not to say that what happened to you was interesting. I just–”

“It’s fine,” John said again.

He had turned his head to look oddly at Val. Well, Val probably deserved that.

“You should take a nap,” he said, bluntly. “And eat something.”

Val almost laughed, but caught himself. He must have really looked like shit, for John to be telling him that.

“Fine,” he said, echoing John. “We’re okay?”

John considered for a moment, then dipped his head in a nod.

“I want to be alone now,” he said. Val took the hint.

23.2 || 23.4

#story

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prettybea · 2 years

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Chapter 4

Victor Frankenstein's pov

It's been 203 years, 203 years of me creating that damned creature which I calls it 'my creation' I regret that day very deeply when I created that 'thing' and God forgive me if I played God for creating a living being. I used to be dead but...I remembered being reborn once again I didn't aged, I didn't grow up, I was still the same man I was before. I traveled a lot of the country as I watched the world change every morning, I traveled into Europe, Asia, and the Middle east back then but I did join the war during the World War 1 and 2 but I immediately quit the military after that and decided to stay in Paris, France

Up until this point I still have nightmares and sometimes hallucinations of my creation just staring at me while I was asleep, it causes me to scream and found nothing. I'm still living in Paris and I am very aware that my creation is still out there across the country so I kept my guard up in case if he found me

I used to lived in a house but due to the changes of the world and it's advancement I began living in an apartment complex where I make friends and enemies at the same time. My life seemed normal until someone knock on my door and that person told me that time is of the essence and we are wasting our time if we didn't do any actions. The person by the name of Robbie Walton recruited to this strange group where monsters worked together to stop a greater threat that might cause something bad on the Earth

I saw my name and the information about me along with Henry Jekyll's file and his monstrous alter ego named Edward Hyde, Henry is my classmate back in college before I dropped out and began... creating my creation but my eyes went wide as my fear started to stir as I notice that my creature is also in this file and is another member of this new group. Robbie knows this as he wants me to be open minded, since the world is in danger and I know some knowledge about the scientific stuff I have no choice but to join the group

Now, I am here. Inside of a train as I look in to the window to see what England looks like. I could still feel my fear lurking in my back as I was not expecting that creature to be part of this group. It's been century that I haven't set foot to England after the events of what had happened to me

"We are almost there " Robbie said, actually it was Captain Robbie. I remember that a certain captain in Antarctica by the name Captain Robert Walton and he did speak up to me that Captain Walton was actually his old descendants so they are related with blood

Robbie was describe as a fine gentleman, he had black hair that tied to a ponytail, green eyes, brown skin tone, and he wore an uniform of a captain

We took a ship first to go to England and once we landed on England we took a train. I glance at Robbie who is reading the other members files then I finally open my mouth as I ask

"Captain Robbie, may I ask you a question? " I ask, Robbie looked at me as he closed the files

"Sure, ask away " He answered, I played with my fingers as I was getting nervous to open my mouth but I have no choice but to open my mouth and ask my question after all there's no turning back now

"Why did you recruit me in the first place? "

"I think you should ask the boss, not me " Robbie answered, I felt a suspicious on him it was as if he has the answer but he kept it as a secret. My attention was turned to Robbie, I leaned forward to him

"Captain, don't lie to me. This 'boss' tells you something as to why I was recruited in the first place, a reason. I can tell in your expression that you had the answer and the information I wanted so please Robbie...answer my question: Why am I recruited? To make another creature like 'him'? Or taming that creature? " I said, I slam both of my hands on the table as I stand up with my face up closer to his face. I have to admit, I am desperate for answers and up until now I still have no idea why he recruited me. Robbie just pinched the bride of his nose as he look at me as he open his mouth

"Victor, I understand you needed answers but...I'm sorry, ask the boss. He has the answers that you needed " Robbie answered, I let an irritated sigh as I slumped back to my seat as I buried my face with my hands. Suddenly, we heard the horns let out a honk signaling the passengers that we have arrived in England

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

We got out of the train with our bags in our hands, when we got out of the train station we met this man on the lobby of the station. He wore a black suit, brown eyes, and well combed black hair. He was actually looking at his pocket watch but he immediately closes it as he look at us it was as if he knew that we are coming in this station

"Welcome back, Captain Walton " The man said, he grab one of our bags. Robbie placed a hand on my shoulder as he introduces the man to me

"Victor, I want you to meet my butler names Ben Cameron. Don't worry about your bag, he'll take care of it " Robbie explained, I was a bit skeptical about it because by just looking at Ben it gives me the creeps. With those emotionless eyes who has no spark, those bags that was layering down in his eyes, and that pale skin well I'd be damn about this. I felt a nudge on Robbie elbow as he look at me with a wink on his face

"Hey, it's okay, Victor. Ben won't bite. He just here because he will grab our bags that's all " He reassured me, it looks like he knows that I'm scared at Ben. I took a gulp as I gave my bag to Ben, he gave us a bow and leave us in the lobby of the station. I calmed myself down but I heard Robbie speak yet again

"Come on, Ben send me a car so we don't have to travel a public transportation. Follow me " He said, he took my hand as he starts to lead me outside of the train station

Once we got out of the train station my eyes went wide as I saw England had changed. I was so used in Paris that I forgot about England, my amazement were interrupted when I heard a beep at my left. When I look at the left direction I saw a car, the was a Hatchback car and it was colored blue. Robbie turn his attention as he yells

"Get inside, Victor! " He shouts as the people are getting crowded to us so he yelled at me to get my attention. I noded my head as I step into the car, Robbie took the wheel and started to drive us somewhere

~~~~~~~~~~

"Victor, while we are on the train I received a message that they found your creature's location so all we have to do is- " I didn't pay attention at his explanation. I only heard half of it, just listening to him bringing it up about the subject about my creation just really can't help but felt fear. I know he is angry at me for abandoning him ever since he was bring to life, I remembered fleeing like a coward I was back then and let him kill my brother, framed Justine, and kill Elizabeth I don't think that was my creation's fault...it was mine

"Hey! Victor! " My thoughts were interrupted when I heard Robbie yells at him. I look at him and found that he is concerned about me, his eyes were focused on the road but he kept glancing at me with a concerned look on his face

"You okay? Look, I get it. Your not ready to meet your creature face to face but don't worry, I'm here. If he caused your harm, I'll protect you " He said, his words warm me up a little as I smile at him. I composed myself as we finally arrived that it looks like of a forest

"Is this the location where my creature was located? " I can't help but ask, we got out of the car and faced the entrance of the forest. I look at the sign of the forest it was called 'Bromburg Groove'

"Yeah, your creature is accompanied by my friend Jessica " Robbie said, we didn't waste anymore time as we entered the Sherwood Forest to meet up with my creation and this person whose name is 'Jessica'

~~~~~~~~~~

Adam's pov

I can't believe that I'm back from England from this recruitment that this person named Jessica. She just pops out of nowhere and tell me that we are running out of time and we must take action immediately but she did tell me that...I'm here to meet my creator...Dr. Victor Frankenstein

After those events, I thought that Frankenstein was dead from the cold atmosphere that makes his organ turned cold and after that I traveled around the world fighting creatures and make allies. I decided to stay in Melbourne, Australia as I watched my friends die, moving on, and etc. I lived peaceful until I met Jessica in my front doors, she told me that there's a big threat that was happening in the world so this 'boss' decided to gather a team to stop this evil before it was too late

While we are waiting for my creator and his companion, I continue to read the files of each member of the team including mine. A vampire, a doctor, a madman, a werewolf, an invisible man, a ghost, a creature, a paranormal investigator, and a mad scientist

All of there names I've heard it especially Jekyll and Hyde since I met them back in Mayfair and that was the day where I left England for good. I heard about those names such as: Dracula, Van Helsing, Hawley Griffin, and Lawrence Talbot but I haven't heard or met Alexandra Trese or Lewis Pepper in person

I close the files and looked at Jessica who is leaning at a tree trunk but she wasn't looking at me she was looking in a different direction. Jessica has a curly hair, blue eyes, a green reglan sleeves with the name that was printed 'California', a pair of jeans, she wore a grey, and a pink rubber shoes. Her features and her statures reminds me of Elizabeth, Frankenstein's wife, the wife that I killed

"Alright, Captain Robbie just message me saying that they are on there way to meet us so... prepared to meet your maker, creature " She said in a British accent, I glared at her. I totally forgot that she is very strict and doesn't take me very kindly, she's somewhat hard headed and close minded, following the rules even though the rules out there are meant to be broken. I kept telling her that my name is Adam but she just ignore it and call me 'creature' instead since that's what defines me in her eyes

I stood up as I heard footsteps coming towards us, this caught our attention as we think that someone is here. Jessica grabs her gun from her pocket at it aims to the direction where the footsteps are being heard while I grab my silver dagger and prepare myself from battle. Due to the mist in the Bromburg Grove we couldn't identify who it was. Our eyes stays focus on the sound until we heard a voice

"Easy there, tigers. It was just me... Captain Robbie Walton " This calm us down, it was the captain after all but my eyes glance at Frankenstein who is right behind him. I could see nothing but fear from his eyes as I glared at him with anger and hate. The two silver daggers were in my hand as I gripped them very tightly but Jessica put a hand on my chest

"Calm down, creature. It's just your maker and Captain Robbie "

"*sigh* Jessica, you do realize that he has a name, right? He's name is Adam. And...he wasn't angry at me but rather this guy behind me " Captain Robbie told her, I felt glad that this captain knew that I may be a creation from Frankenstein but he also see me as a normal human being

"Tch, yeah right but you see him as a human but for me I see him just a creature " Jessica said, this angers me as she still refuse that I'm a human being. Captain Robbie let out a sigh of defeat as he look at me with his hand on his waist

"She's always like this, Adam. Get used to this " Captain Robbie told me, I place my left silver dagger in my pocket but I kept my right silver dagger in my hand as I points it straight to Frankenstein. Frankenstein let out a silent 'beep' out of his mouth

"I know I have a purpose in this team but...I don't get it why he is part of this team. So, why is he here? " I ask but it was more of a demanding state. I could hear Jessica ready to grab her gun as she was ready to shoot, Frankenstein hid behind Captain Robbie as he was afraid to be hit by my dagger, Captain Robbie... Captain Robbie just stands there with a calm expression on his face

"To tell you the truth, Adam. Ask the boss, he has every single answer in your questions " He answered, this is pissing me off I was about to shout and demanded to him why but I didn't because not long after a castle appeared behind us with the strong wind almost blew us. After that, I could hear a car arriving, and some footsteps coming

"What's going on? " Frankenstein ask, his question makes him quiver. It was silence all over us until Captain Robbie just simply answered

"They are here "

TO BE CONTINUED

#castlevania #jekyll and hyde #mystery skulls #the invisible man #van helsing #wolfman #Trese #Frankenstein

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timeguardians · 10 months

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@anoseforrottenapples continued

England is an interesting country, but the American Marine finds himself sticking out like a sore thumb most everywhere he goes. There have been a decent amount of stares politely averted when he looks back at them, and strained manners attempting to overlook whatever faux pas he has committed this time. That seems to be the tune since he came here, but most people appear to appreciate that the Americans have come to provide some much-needed backup and muscle, so they keep their opinions to themselves.

That does not mean Liam Doyle enjoys being treated like some kind of curiosity though.

Finding himself a spot on the crowded train, Doyle carefully keeps the seat next to him open in case someone else wants it, and turns his attention to watching the bustle on the platform. A moment later though, much to his surprise, he hears a young woman’s voice next to him, asking him about the empty seat.

Pulling his attention away from the window, he smiles at the brunette a bit. “Nah, you can take it ma’am.” His accent, with a drawl he never intends to shake, reveals his origins in the Western half of the States. Wyoming in particular. “I can move over a bit if you need.”

Granted, by ‘a bit’ he means ‘about two inches’ since he is already jammed against this window pretty well, but she is not a large woman. Two inches will probably mean more to her than to a big guy like him.

________________________________

"Thank you." The polite response is natural for the ebony-haired woman as she pulls herself down into the seat next to him. "That shan't be required, sir. I'll hardly take up any room unless my little sister Lucy comes to sit in my lap." She replies. And there is a note of doubt dipped around those words. Lucy was safely tucked away with Peter and Edmund. And of course, the eldest boy had things sorted.

Though it is every shade of uncouth, Susan leans, a little too closely, to the American to glance out the window.

There's something insipidly DESPERATE about the forlorn and yearning glance Susan casts back towards the soldier riddled platform. In their faces she senses the gravity of the commotion every bit as much as Edmund had. Her heart SINKS at the thought of some of those boys, some barely older than Peter, not returning HOME.

"It's quite a sight. Isn't it?" She murmurs in a damn-near whisper, noticing that he too can NOT help but watch the commotion practically swallowing their train whole. Then sheepish eyes behold the stranger again. "Pardon me for being terribly nosy-" She prefaces her next inquiry. "Were-- were you there? On--- on the front?" Cerulean orbs flit over him softly with several unspoken follow-up questions. But right now, she is testing the waters. A lot of soldiers did NOT like to express what it is they have seen or done.

#muse: susan pevensie

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cancerisathief · 2 years

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The Beginning

Cancer is a nasty, nasty thief and since the beginning of 2022 it's stolen a fair amount from me, and I feel like the journey has barely began.

When did it all start? Well I can't quite remember what day I found it but it was a dark, cold January evening. On days like this because middle England isn't the warmest of places I often take my dogs on a shorter walk. Which leads to them needing more fun times and engagement at home in the evenings.

So me and my partner are chucking this tennis ball across at each other with our dog playing 'piggy-in-the-middle' and all of a sudden it hits my right breast. And it fucking hurt. Way more than it should have. Straight away what I thought was a lumpy bruise formed which I thought was odd, though, our little dog is rather excitable and can often spend her time jumping at me. Come to think of it she did have a bit of a habit at leaning on that side of me. So I thought to myself. Nothing to worry about, I am sure its a mixture of the ball and her leaning on me. I am going to Iceland for a week shortly if it's not gone down by then I will have it checked out.

I returned from Iceland 20th January and it had not gone down. I thought to myself maybe I am over worrying and being a bit dramatic. It's only a small bump after all and it didn't hurt anymore. So I thought I would give it more time to monitor.

By the end of Jan I was getting quite worried, I called the Dr for an appointment and couldn't get one. Called again a week later in early Feb and again, couldn't get one. At this point I second guessed my situation a lot. Was I over worrying? Was I being dramatic? Would I be wasting Drs time being checked out. And yet something nagged at me with it.

I mentioned it to a few friends who agreed that getting it checked would be to no harm. Better to be safe then sorry.

It had been busy at work Jan and Feb and now it was slowly coming to a close on the busy period I thought I would give another Dr appointment a chance with no luck.

We're due to get married next year? What if it is something serious? That will be a long run of treatment? I seem to feel fine... I am training for a 1/2 marathon right now and all is going well. Maybe its not any thing serious? I would be in a much worse place if it was?

So I googled, 'How to check your breast' and for the first time I felt it laying down and oh shit. It felt alot bigger laying down than it did just poking it standing up.

I am not sure how much I slept that night but it wasn't much. I ran scenario after scenario through my head.

As soon as I was able to I rang the Dr's again. And I couldn't quite contain myself this time. I burst into tears at the receptionist. Sharing my fears of not being able to get an appointment, that I found a lump and I was scared. Unfortunately at the she couldn't get me an appointment. I came off the phone and just sobbed. The fear was just running through me and I was just at a loss of what to do.

Not long after I finished my cry session my phone started ringing. Someone had just cancelled their morning appointment and the receptionist could squeeze me in. I have never been more relieved in my life.

You'd think you'd feel coy about being examined in this way. What I can say is when fear is this high all coyness for me went out the window. I just wanted an answer.

The Dr was polite, they recommended me for an urgent Cancer screening at the local hospital. And as much as that sounded scary at the time I was relieved that it was something worth investigating, I'd been so worried about being over dramatic.

#beginning #cancer #doctors #experience #screening #breast cancer #dog #cancer journey

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firefly-in-darkness · 3 years

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Separation, Connection - [1/2]

Pairing →Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters → Marvel Characters

Summary → Your friendship with Bucky deterioates when you catch him in a compromising position with a fellow agent.

Word Count → 2.3k

SSB2021 Square Fill → “God I hate you” - @star-spangled-bingo

AFG Square Fill → “What the fuck am I seeing?” @anyfandomgoesbingo

Warnings → 18+. Angst, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Swearing

Betas → @kalesrebellion // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → This one was sitting in my WIPs folder for ages, and after brainstorming with @writethelifeyouwant, this 2 parter was finished! Ps. I know I haven’t updated Worst Idea Ever in a while and I’m sorry - I’m just very stuck with it atm, the plot and majority of the story is planned out, I just can’t seem to fill in the blanks.

Firefly’s Masterlist

You and Bucky were close, and there was that little thin line between friendship and something more. Nothing had happened but, god, you had wanted it to. The secret crush you harboured for your teammate, your friend, had only grown over the years. Everyone thought you would be good together, commenting on how well you got along, that friendship was an important part of a relationship. Both of you rolling your eyes and laughing at their comments.

When you finally gathered the courage to tell him how you felt, you saw him with someone else. They were at the back of the training facility; the team were in a simulation of a terrorist attack on Paris and once the time on the training session was called, you stumbled across them.

They were just out of sight, hidden in a dark corner. And it wasn’t just a casual embrace. They were having sex, he was fucking her, hard, up against a wall. You froze at the sight of his bare bottom clenching with each thrust and the blissed-out look on her face. What the fuck am I seeing?! Heart shattered, you fled from the room without a sound, not wanting to disturb them or for anyone to see you crying.

It hurt too much to be as close to him after that, you consciously decided to withdraw from the friendship. Not going straight to him when entering a room or staying in bed instead of heading to the rooftop where you’d usually wander at five in the morning to talk with Bucky, putting the world to right.

And of course, Bucky noticed. It had been a week since you had joined him for a midnight chat in the kitchen. He was missing his best friend. He wanted to share his life with her, and she was nowhere to be seen unless someone else was in the room.

Bucky knew it was a bad sign when you chose to sit next to Wanda, not sandwiched between him and Nat, on movie night. He felt alone in a room full of friends, as they watched a film about a love triangle set in England. It was supposed to be funny, but Bucky didn’t hear the jokes, let alone the punchlines.

Nat had realised something was wrong too. She saw the dark circles under your eyes when you drained the coffee from the cup in the morning and the puffy redness from crying in the middle of the day. She had detested the way you and Bucky were before, it was like a pair of magnets drawn together, a connected ribbon, a gravitational pull. But now? Well, you were repelling within a few meters of one another, and she hated that even more.

“What did you do, Barnes?” Nat whispered harshly, eyes still on the film.

“Nothing.” Bucky looked over to you, sleeping with your head resting on Wanda’s lap.

“So why is Wanda looking at you like that?” She raised an eyebrow.

Bucky lifted his gaze, saw the fiery red eyes staring back at him as she stroked your hair, a soft red mist falling over you. He frowned at the Sokovian and tried to talk telepathically but she shook her head and looked back at the television.

On autopilot, you ran from your room to his bedroom door, knocking until the screams died down. Long ago, you’d learnt to not enter the room until he’d settled down, had the bruises to your neck and dealt with the guilt-ridden expression on Bucky’s face for weeks.

Pressing your ear to the door, you could hear Bucky moving about and slowly pushed it open so as not to startle him. A soft glow from the lamp at his bedside welcomed you in, he'd stacked his pillows against the headboard with his knees drawn up and resting his head in his hands.

“Hi, Buck. It’s me.” You spoke softly, his head and eyes shot up to meet yours.

You walked over and sat at the end of the bed, averting your eyes to the floor and fingers fiddling with the edge of a blanket, waiting for him to respond.

“What did I do doll?” He croaked, fingers running through his hair, his knees dropping down.

Your heart raced and you were certain he could hear the harsh thumps, but your voice remained steady, “It's nothing, just need a little time to process some things.”

“You normally come to me. What's different?” His voice was strained, thick with distress.

Standing up, you walked towards the window, arms wrapped tightly around your torso. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, but you remained focused on the navy sky fading to blues and oranges with the sunrise.

“I can't this time Buck, I need space. I need space from you.” With each word, your heart fractured along the lines you’d attempted to piece together with being away from him.

“Get out then, just leave me alone.” His tone was now harsh, stronger than before.

“God, I hate you.” Without a final glance, you left the room. Your heart in tatters once more.

Once in the safety of your room, the sob heaved out of you. Bucky had disregarded you so easily, he let you go without a second thought. And you didn’t know what was worse; what you saw a week ago or what he just said.

Bucky finished his 76th lap when someone caught his eye. It was you. His best friend. The one he stupidly let go of. It had been three months since he'd told you to leave, and you hadn't gone back on his word.

Of course, Bucky was just as stubborn and hadn't approached you unless it was work-related. But there was something different about you. His eyes focused on the man you were standing with, and how you glowed, and Bucky just couldn't stand that you were feeling that way about a random recruit and not him.

“She used to look at you that way.” Wanda’s voice echoed in his head.

He scanned the field and found her figure leaning against a tree, shading herself from the summer sun and a book in hand. Bucky grabbed the small towel and wiped away the sweat, swigging his water bottle, then joined her on the grass.

“What are you talking about? She’s never looked at me like that.” He gestured towards you and the agent.

Wanda chuckled and shook her head, “You're not blind, or stupid, Bucky, she adored you. Still does, even though I wish she would get over you.”

His brow creased. “She wanted space, ended our friendship.”

Wanda’s eyes flashed red, “And you broke her heart.”

“Show me.” Bucky held out his hand, pleading with her, “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“I can’t Bucky. It's private, she would never forgive me.” Wanda shook her head and placed her book in her lap, “I've seen what she's done to you, I'm not going to lose her too.”

Bucky sprang to his feet and kicked at the grass. “Then just tell me what you know. Just something?” He turned to face you, hands on his hips as he tried to think of what he’d done.

“Paris terrorist simulation,” Wanda stated without emotion.

Bucky turned around, seeing nothing but a neutral expression on her face. The simulation had been a success, the whole team had done well but he hadn’t seen you at the debriefing. Steve said you were exhausted and needed to rest.

“What about it?” asked Bucky.

“Don't deny it. I saw it, I felt it. She had no chance of blocking me from that pain.” Wanda stood up, eyes flickering red, “you and that agent. I thought you were better than that Bucky.”

“Shit.”

Bucky knew exactly what Wanda had meant before she explained. Shame coursed through him; he'd broken your trust by not telling you about the agent he’d been hooking up with. Honestly, he didn't want you to know, didn't want you to judge him for the flings he had. Subconsciously, he knew that was what your distancing was about because he hadn't seen her again or hooked up with anyone since.

All he wanted was you back in his life; he was going to make it happen.

Wanda smirked, shaking her head before walking ahead of him, “Best get a move on Barnes, she’s not thinking of him in a platonic way.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he strutted towards you, determined to get you back.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder and he could only hope you still felt the same way.

You couldn’t believe Bucky dared to pull rank on you in front of another agent. That he had the gall to do such a thing after he told you to leave him alone, how he betrayed your trust as a friend and unknowingly broke your heart.

You stormed down the blurry corridors as anger took the form of tears. Your whole body tense and determined to get away from the assassin on your tail. People parted like the sea as they saw your strut and scowl, you scoffed at their reaction and thought, this must be what it’s like to be Bucky on a mission. Using it to your advantage, you managed to pull someone by the arm and into the path of the Winter Soldier.

While you sprinted away, you glanced back and spotted Bucky helping the woman to her feet, apologising profusely and then realising it was the agent you had caught him with. Your blood boiled as you pushed through the door to the stairwell, it slammed against the wall and probably damaged it, but you didn’t care anymore.

It wasn’t until the breeze hit your face that you realised where you were. You’d come to the rooftop, the exact spot that you’d air all your worries with Bucky. It was the place you’d first bonded outside of the team.

A hand dragged down your face and your shoulders slumped. You spun on your heel, ready to escape when you stopped short. There he was, blocking the doorway. You groaned, of course, he knew exactly where you’d go even before you did.

“I just want to talk.” Bucky quietly spoke, a hint of a question in his tone but a statement all the same.

“I’ll scale down the side of this building if I have to.” You stepped back towards the edge.

Bucky growled and walked towards you, “would you quit being so stubborn and dramatic for one second?”

“Just leave me alone.” You threw his own words back at him, stopping him in his tracks.

At that moment, you could see that Bucky realised how hurtful those words were, but you weren’t going to console him anytime soon. He should suffer for how he spoke to you and for never attempting to speak to you until now.

Bucky slowly circled you towards the edge, his eyes focused on you while you turned in tandem following his moves. He reached the railing then settled down into a seated position, legs hanging over the side, his chest against the metal pole.

“Are you going to join me?” Bucky’s gaze now on the horizon.

With a roll of your eyes, you sat beside him, but at least a metre apart, you couldn’t get that close to him. He was too intoxicating, and your emotions were incredibly high, even if they were full of anger and hurt, and you didn’t trust yourself not to succumb to his charm.

“Are you going to talk then?” You sassed back at him.

“I’m sorry for what you saw. You shouldn’t have seen that.” Bucky didn’t hold back, “I was going to tell you, I just thought you’d judge me.”

“I’d judge you. For sleeping with a colleague. In the middle of a training simulation?” You scoffed, “You didn’t tell me about her. Or anyone else for that matter. Natasha filled me in on all your little late night rendezvous when I was on missions.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Bucky knew he’d not win this conversation and scrambled to bring it back onto his side, “you were away, and I needed something, someone.”

“So, you used them and used me too?” You glared at him.

“That’s not what I said,” Bucky seethed, annoyed at the way you were twisting his words but not surprised with the pain you felt.

You continued, ignoring his comment, unable to stop the words falling from your lips, “I gave you emotional support. Watched you cry yourself to sleep after a nightmare, held your hand when you had a panic attack during a mission.” You shook your head at him, “I just wasn’t good enough for the sex part.”

Bucky held your chin and pulled your face to look at him, “You mean more to me than that. I just didn’t know how you felt. If I’d had known-”

You jerked away from his touch, it felt too nice, it felt like home, but you weren’t ready to fall back into this friendship. He knew how you felt, and you weren’t ready for his rejection. You still needed your space.

Swiftly, you returned to your feet, brushing down your trousers and hands, “Thank you for your apology, but I can’t forgive you.”

Bucky stood up and watched you begin to leave, “I’ll do my best to make you see how much you mean to me.”

You paused in the doorway, but you had to be strong, to carry on walking away, you couldn’t let him hurt you again. It was time to move on.

Continue Here...

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7 / @fandomfic-galore / @writerwrites / @thefridgeismybestie / @wedonttalkaboutitenough / @courtneychicken / @persephonesinfernos / @miraclesoflove

Marvel Tag List: @natasha-danvers / @little-baby-vixen / @stuckonjbbarnes / @starlightcrystalline / @nekoannie-chan / @hailhydra920 / @vollzeitliebe / @fitzsimmons-is-forever / @ladyacrasia / @emmabarnes / @selfsun

strike through - unable to tag.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes Fic #Bucky Barnes Angst #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

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Day 136: Long Drive

Sorry friends. The second half of my week last week was really difficult and I went away for the weekend to recharge. Without further ado, here's the next ficlet. Thanks for your patience <3

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Harry loved the States for a lot of reasons; it was way easier to disappear here than in England; even if people knew his name, they were way less likely to recognize his face; you could basically pick any climate that you wanted and find a place that suited you; and lots of other weird things.

But mostly he loved road trips.

He loved the entire concept behind getting in a car and just driving. The road unfurling endlessly in front of him, windows down, radio turned up and blaring whatever struck his fancy. With Max in the car beside him, wagging his tail and sticking his head out of the window, Harry felt practically weightless.

"Alright, buddy," he told the pittie when he pulled over to grab some breakfast at a little diner, "You hang out in the back, yeah?" he asked, scratching behind his ears and pressing a kiss to the broad bridge of his nose. "Go on," he said, nudging him toward the back that Harry had magically enlarged and turned into a comfortable living space.

Muggles had campers and rvs but with a little bit of magic, the beaten up Subaru served him just fine.

He got out and hit the lock button, listening to the satisfying little beep as he headed toward the diner, catching up his curls and tying them into a loose messy bun on top of his head.

The diner was cute, all red and white checkered decorations and a counter with spinny stools. Harry sat down at one and grabbed a menu, perusing and trying to decide what to order when he heard the crash of something being dropped to the ground and breaking.

His head snapped up and he blinked, wondering if it had been too long since he'd gone to sleep because he had to be hallucinating. "Malfoy?" he spluttered.

(Read more below the cut)

But before the other man could respond there was a shout from the kitchen in the back, "Damn it! You clumsy, stupid ass!" the man shouted and Harry felt himself recoiling from the anger in his voice. "You'll be paying for that!"

"Yes, sir!" Malfoy shouted back, bending over and hastily sweeping up the pieces.

"Well don't mess around with that now!" he shouted. "You've got a customer, you worthless piece of-" his voice trailed off as he slammed a door in the back but Harry could fill in the rest.

"Malfoy?" he repeated as the man in question stepped over to him. "How on earth did you find me?" he asked.

"You found me, Potter," he snapped. "Not the other way around. Now what can I get you?"

"You actually work here?" Harry asked in befuddlement.

Malfoy gritted his teeth, "Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't be wearing this stupid apron and I wouldn't be getting screamed at by the arsehole that owns this place. What can I get you?" he repeated.

"Umm," he said, glancing down at the menu, "I will definitely have a cup of coffee. And then maybe the first special on your board with scrambled eggs, bacon, and rye toast," he said. "And also grape jelly, if you have it."

"Got it," Malfoy replied, scribbling on the ticket. "Coming right up."

He spun on his heel and strutted off before Harry could say anything more and Harry just stared after him, wondering if he was dreaming.

Malfoy was back a few minutes later with a mug and a coffee pot, filling Harry's cup and sliding it over to him.

"Thanks," Harry said, reaching for the sugar. "What are you-"

"Look," Malfoy hissed, leaning over and keeping his voice low, "Please do not blow this for me. I know that you have no reason to help me but I really need this job, Potter."

Harry blinked and by the time he'd unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Malfoy was gone again.

It wasn't long before the other man emerged once more, carrying Harry's plate of breakfast. "Here you go," he said as he set it down and slid a couple of grape jelly packets toward him. "Enjoy. Do you need a warm up on your coffee?"

"Uhh," Harry replied, glancing at his half full cup, "Sure."

Malfoy nodded and grabbed the pot to refill his cup.

"When do you get off work?" Harry found himself asking.

The other man's brow furrowed, "Why?"

He shrugged as he slathered jelly onto his toast, "Thought it might be nice to catch up."

"To catch up?" Malfoy repeated. "Is that code for-"

"Hear about your life," Harry supplied.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, "Fine. I get off at 10:00. If you pretend that you are just a customer passing through I'll give you fifteen minutes."

"Done," Harry replied easily. "So what touristy shite is there to do in this town until 10:00 am?"

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After he finished breakfast, Harry ended up just taking Max for a walk and then to the dog park to chase a ball around him. He'd worked hard to train him the first few months after he'd found him abandoned, tied up to a dumpster and all but starving. And Max had learned quickly, mastering basic commands in no time which was for the best, since people took one look at him and decided he was scary.

He wasn't, he was a sweet boy who loved people and who loved to play but it didn't seem to make any difference. Still, once he was trained, Harry had started taking him to the park and he wouldn't let other people bully them out.

Around 9:30, they headed back to the diner and Harry settled Max into the back, making sure his water bowl was full before he climbed back out of the car and leaned against the hood, waiting.

Malfoy emerged a few minuted after 10:00, looking a bit disheveled in his black t-shirt and skinny jeans, and immediately lit up a cigarette before looking around and spotting Harry. His eyebrows rose like he was surprised to see him before he squared his shoulders and made his way toward him.

"Hey," Harry said, straightening up as Malfoy approached him.

Malfoy blew a stream of smoke out of his mouth, "Hey?" he asked. "Is that really what you have to say to me?" He shook his head, "Just get it over with Potter," he said. "If you want to gloat just fucking gloat so I can move on and go get my groceries."

"I don't want to gloat," Harry protested.

"What do you want, then?" he asked scathingly.

And that was the question, wasn't it? What did Harry want? "Why are you working here?" he asked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes as he exhaled another puff of smoke, "It's amazing where you end up when you're a convicted death eater whose wand is monitored," he replied. "Then add to that the fact that it didn't seem to matter where I got myself set up in muggle London, someone found me and within hours I'd lose whatever job I'd been working. So here I am, just trying to get by and who should appear but the savior himself," he said with a little mock bow. "I should just put my two weeks in here now, at least-"

"I'm not going to tell anyone you're here," Harry said quickly.

"Right," he huffed sarcastically.

"I'm not," he argued, "Because if I told them where you are, they'd know where I've been."

"You're running away too?" Malfoy asked, cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers as he stared at Harry in surprise.

"Obviously," Harry replied. "Come on," he said after a moment. "Your feet must be killing you. I'm sure that arsehole doesn't give you breaks," he added as he opened the hatch.

"You want me to climb into the trunk of your car?"

He rolled his eyes, "I know you think I'm an idiot," he said, "But I'm less of one than you think. Just," he crawled in and stood up, "come on."

After a moment Malofy followed him through but before anything else could happen Max bounded over and all but climbed onto Malfoy's lap.

"Max-" he started to scold before Malfoy started talking over him.

"Oh, hello you sweet baby," he said, pulling Max further onto his lap so he could pet him better and scratch his neck. They looked ridiculous, Max was almost as big as Malfoy, but there he sat anyway, "hello. Aren't you a lovie?" he asked. "Yes you are. You're a giant lovie," he said.

And in that moment, Harry's mind was made up. "Have you ever gone on a road trip?" he asked.

Malfoy looked up at him and Max licked a stripe up his cheek. He laughed and stroked his side, "What?" he asked.

"Have you ever gone on a road trip?" Harry repeated.

"What is that?"

"Like a really long drive," he said. "Where you just get in your car and drive and stop for food when you want to and sleep when you want to." He scratched the back of his neck, "Max and I are headed to California to see the giant redwoods."

"That sounds nice for the two of you," Malfoy replied, steadily patting Max.

"Come with us," Harry said.

The other man blinked. "Sorry?"

"Just," he shrugged, "What else do you have here?"

"A job-"

"That you hate."

"A flat-"

"That is probably smaller than this," he said gesturing to the space they were sitting in.

"What happens when you get sick of me?"

He shook his head, "Come on. Just come with us. If I kick you out I'll give you $5000. That should be enough to help you settle wherever you want, right?"

"Why?"

He stared at him for a moment. There were a thousand reasons that flitted through Harry's mind, a thousand things that he could say, but none of them made any sense. Not yet at least. "Why not?" he settled on.

Malfoy took a slow inhale and then nodded once. "Fine, but you're going to need to make a second bed and we have to stop for my stuff."

"Done," Harry replied, grinning and feeling the familiar feeling of freedom that he felt when he was gliding down the open road unfurling in his chest.

Finally, he was going on an adventure worth having.

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Day 135: Off-Guard | Day 137: Symmetry

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #sorry I've been awol for a few days #drarry #drarry drabbles #road trips #down and out draco #running away #freedom

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emerald-chaos · 3 years

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Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

#eeeeeeee #i love soft drunk boston frat chris so much it pains me #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans headcanons #chris evans imagines #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans/reader #chris evans/you #fluff #imagines #headcanons

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sourholland · 3 years

Text

A Royal Convienence || Tom Holland

| Series Masterlist |

Part One

Summary → When an alliance is made between England and France, you are sent away to marry the crown prince and heir to the British throne. Except both you and Prince Thomas despise each other at all odds, subjected to the hand of the monarchy and unable to stand each other.

AN → I’m so excited for this, I honestly thought it’d be out a little sooner but whatever.

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → None

Word Count → 1.8k

Word of the royal engagement had spread quickly, not only by mouth, but through the newspapers as well.

Prince Thomas of Wales and Princess Y/N of France would be married in the spring. Only six weeks awaiting the royal wedding where the crown prince would marry the firstborn princess of France. Rumors of His Majesty, King Dominic’s ill health thickened the air, leaving the country to wonder if the reason for the sudden alliance was perhaps in favor of the succession of the eldest prince.

“Your Royal Highness,” the man bowed his head as you stepped from the ship onto the dock.

You lifted your gloved hand to his outstretched fingers, helping you onto the grass. The clouds hung grayly in the sky, droplets of rain threatening to spill. The man guided you to the carriage not far from where you’d disembarked. He was clearly a member of the royal guard, dressed stiffly and talking very little. You couldn’t tell if this was due to your status or the requirements he was to adhere to.

The inside of the carriage was decorated richly, plush bench seats accompanied by satin curtains of gold. You were tempted to reach over and touch them, retracting your hand when the carriage jerked and began to move through the crowded streets of London.

You were exhausted, hardly sleeping on the journey from France. You’d been unable to keep down any food, seasick and lethargic the whole way. You hadn’t been able to freshen up, assuming that your hair which had been pulled back was a mess by now. You also hadn’t been afforded the luxury of taking your ladies with you, some of which had been with you since you were a girl. This was making things like lacing your own corset considerably more difficult.

The whole way to Buckingham Palace had gone by rather fast, the scenery passing you by reduced to blurs in your memory. It was a much different atmosphere than that of France, or at least what you’d been allowed to see of it. You spent most of your early life being taught how to rule a country, being the heir to the throne until you reached the age of fourteen. Your mother, the Queen Consort Marie, had finally produced a son, an heir, a male to take the throne once the king died.

This day, the day when your brother Prince Louis was born, had been one of the most dreadful days of your life. Everything you’d been working towards, learning about, being trained for, was stripped away from you. After that, you’d been reduced to what it seemed every woman was around you, aristocracy or not, an object of marriage.

Some years later, you would be called into the throne room and told by your father that you would be wed to the Crown Prince of England. You’d only met Prince Thomas once before, at the English Duke’s wedding when you were only twelve years old. He had been only fourteen, unbothered and unfazed by your presence. From what you recalled, your encounter with him had been less than pleasant.

You’d made several attempts to speak with the Prince throughout the night, taking your mother’s words of encouragement. He brushed you off every time, once telling you that he did not care for the French, nor your way of approaching the ‘next King of England.’

“Ma’am.”

You were brought away from your thoughts at the man’s words, your head rising from its place at the wall of the carriage. You glanced out the window, the large palace greeting you. You remembered nothing of coming through the gates, or even seeing the Buckingham Palace for the first time.

You stepped out, flattening your skirts with your palms and doing the best with your hair. You couldn’t imagine how improper you’d probably looked, your stomach churning at the thought of walking through the doors of the palace.

The walk from the carriage to the set of doors that led you into the large entryway was short. The walls were covered in rich fabrics, candles lighting each walkway. The guards accompanying you remained silent, the sound of your shoes against the fine carpet in your ears. You remembered your governess, the way she’d always remind you that a princess never slouched. The straightening of your back and extra spry in your step helped you to gain back a bit of confidence.

Through what felt like dozens of twists and turns, the tallest guard was pushing open two large doors. You stepped in wearily, recognizing it as the throne room. You suddenly became very aware of your appearance, the way you must be an absolute mess.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N of France,” he announced to the room.

You walked before the throne and gave a deep curtsy to both King Dominic and Queen Nicola. You met each of their eyes nervously, you knew it was wrong to look for any bit of illness in the king, unable to help yourself from noticing his paleness and sunken in eyes.

“Your Majesties,” you addressed.

“Why, I haven’t seen you since you were a girl,” she remarked. “Of course, then you were to be the Queen of France. And now—well, there’s Prince Louis, correct?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you answered with a twinge of bitterness. “My brother should take the throne some day.”

King Dominic’s eyes scanned over you promptly, looking for any imperfection, any flaw to point out. This wasn’t odd behavior of a king, yet it still seemed to make you stammer over your words.

“You’ve grown very beautifully, I’m glad of this,” she added. “We’ve had portraits sent over, however, I will say that you are a fine-looking girl.”

There was no sign of the Prince, nor his younger brothers. It was only the king and the queen that occupied the throne room. You felt almost relieved of this, not wishing to see any more people in your current state. You also dreaded your imminent fate, a vow of marriage to a man you hardly knew, let alone could stand.

The large doors opened once more, revealing the eldest Prince, behind him were the twins, and next was the youngest. Prince Thomas held a blank expression, his eyes not yet meeting your own as he walked with his brothers to bow at his parents feet.

“Thomas, I’m sure you remember Y/N,” his mother said, motioning towards you.

His gaze fell on you, his eyes dipping from the cream colored skirts that swayed at your feet, to the mess of hair falling into your face slightly. His hair was slicked back and styled, the embroidery on his tunic rich and in season. His eyes darkened, a look of disdain flashing for a moment.

“I do, mum, I quite clearly recall us being introduced at cousin George’s wedding a few years back,” he answered.

He forced a grin, looking to his mother for approval. She went on about wedding preparations, dining plans, and which wing of the castle your chamber would be. It didn’t take long for you to realize how much of a rambler Queen Nicola truly was. You could only blame it on her longing for a daughter, and the fact that this was the first wedding she’d be able to orchestrate for one of her sons.

“Tomorrow you’ll meet me to choose an engagement ring, then to tea where your Ladies in Waiting will be,” she spoke modestly. “It’s far too late to do anything this evening. Though, I’m sure a chaperone could be arranged if you and Tom wished to speak for a time privately.”

“That won’t be necessary, mum. It’s quite late, I’m sure the Princess would rather retire to her chamber for the night,” the Prince interrupted. Good, you thought. You had no desire to be anywhere near Thomas, not now, and definitely not for what was playing out to be the rest of your miserable life.

“Ma’am,” you started. “Do excuse me if I’m incorrect, however, I thought Prince Thomas should have been the one to choose an engagement ring?” You asked, a snort came from Tom, a dismissive look from the Queen following. He grimaced as his younger brother, Prince Sam, you assumed, had elbowed him in the ribs.

“Well—yes, you are correct. Traditionally, if you and Thomas had courted, and then he’d gone to your father for his blessing, he would have chosen an engagement ring once you agreed to have him. This is not a traditional engagement, though. You’ll look through some of our most precious jewels, I assure you, Y/N.”

You felt your face heat up at her words, drowning out the last of her speech and curtsying again as she and the king left the room. The three younger Princes followed suit, Tom stopped at the archway for a moment. A servant most likely waited behind those slightly ajar doors, ready to escort you to your chambers.

“Princess,” your title lingered on his lips.

“Prince Thomas, can I help you?”

“I wish you would not refer to me as Thomas, that god awful name is reserved for my mother,” he said shortly. “Tom will do fine.”

“Prince Tom, then. Is there a reason you’ve stayed back? We shouldn’t be alone in here,” you had only been in the palace a short time and the last thing you wanted was a scandal.

His expression was not endearing in the least, he looked burdened by you. His jaw was set, his eyes malice, the curl of his lip in disgust. You took in a breath, mimicking his body language and going to pass him out into the hall. You were caught off guard by the jerking of your forearm, his hand grasping at it harshly and pulling you much closer to his face than you had been before.

“If this is what I must do for my country then so be it, however, do not think for a second that I would ever willingly marry someone like you,” he cursed, leaning in so close that you could feel his cool breath on your skin.

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual,” you said, looking him dead in the eyes. The weight of his words stung like a blade, his expression like pouring salt into an open wound.

“Well then, something we can agree on.”

You yanked away from him, brushing off his grasp and looking up at him with narrowed-eyes. He gritted his teeth as you flattened the fabric of your skirts once more before you left the large room in a fleeting motion.

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art-outlaw · 3 years

Text

Stargazing // Chapter Twenty-Four

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Summary: Friend’s since childhood, you’re lucky to spend the time you do with Daniel. Refusing to acknowledge that you’re in love with your best friend of 25 years is fine - until it’s not.

Chapters: 24/28

Warnings/ Rating: Mature. Swearing. POV switch

Word Count: 5505

Posted: 27 July 2021

“I’ve got to go back to Enstone. Tonight.” Daniel’s words struck you like a punch to the stomach. Your mouth opened and closed, staring up at your partner with wordless confusion. But he wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were trained on his trainer leaning on the bench a few feet from the both of you. Michael was staring intently back at Daniel, his expression so serious that you were sure the furrow between his eyebrows would be permanent if he frowned any harder.

You looked between the two men, but neither of them paid you any mind. An entire conversation seemed to flow between them through looks alone, with Michael nodding and grabbing his car keys from where they rested only a few feet from him. Only when he reached the doorway leading out of the kitchen did he turn back, his hand clinging to the frame. “I’ll meet you at the airport, text me the flight details.”

And then he was gone. Leaving you to stay at Daniel, dread filling you. He still hadn’t looked at you. He had long since moved from your embrace and was hunched over his kitchen bench. His hands rested on the countertop, arms stiff and shoulders curled over. It was rare that you ever saw Daniel looking as defeated as he did in that moment - and it wasn't giving you any hope for the conversation that would follow.

“Should I start repacking my bags then?” Even with the softness of your words, the shattering of the tense silence had you cringing. You made no move to close the distance between you and Daniel - your awkward stance a few feet from the man you loved only furthering the gaping hole that was quickly filling the space. Daniel sighed, and you watched as his hands curled into fists, and you knew that when he spoke next it was through gritted teeth.

“I’ve been told that I have to go back to Enstone, I never said you had to.”

“I thought we agreed at the start of all of this that we were in it together? Or is that all of that out the window now you’ve told your team about the engagement?” There was no disguising the hurt that was flooding your tone. It felt like everything that you had both worked on for the past seven months was crumbling around you, the earthquake that was the article having left you scrambling to find safe ground. And it didn’t sound like you were going to find any solace or safety in the man you had pledged your heart and soul to.

“Don’t. Don’t make this into a fight, it doesn’t have to be, baby.” Daniel’s words seemed as pained as yours. Finally, his eyes met yours. Any other time, you would’ve taken the time to appreciate the way that the golden glow of an afternoon sun hit his honey-brown eyes and shadowed his eyelashes across his cheeks. But now all you were left with was the heartache of knowing that in a few hours, he’d be leaving you here. “I haven’t told them about the engagement, I only told them about Jack.”

“What else am I supposed to do, Daniel? You want to fuck off back to England and leave me here to deal with the shit show that we’ve caused! What am I supposed to do when Jack eventually comes out to the press with all his bullshit?”

“I’m not abandoning you, I don’t want to go! I’m going back to Enstone to try and figure all of this out! The team is pulling together some PR work to try and remind the public that I’m not some asshole that goes punching his fiancée’s ex’s in random grocery stores!”

“But you still want to leave me here!” It was abundantly clear that even with Daniel’s begging to not turn this into a fight, a fight was inevitable. You weren’t the type to back down or cower from a fight, and Daniel was only as stubborn as the person he was arguing with. It didn’t seem like this conversation would end well for either of you, no matter how hard you begged your brain to not shout at the equally stressed man in front of you.

“I’m not leaving you! I want you to come with me!” His voice had reached a yell, and his normally olive skin was flushing with anger. But the anger behind his otherwise sweet words left you confused. He wanted you to come, but said not to pack your bags?

“Daniel, I don’t understand what you want from me! Am I coming back to Enstone with you, or am I staying here?”

“That’s up to you, I’m not going to drag you back to England to deal with all of this, especially since we were supposed to be here for a holiday.”

Air rushed from your lungs as understanding flooded through you. He wasn’t trying to leave you behind; Daniel had taken on his saviour complex again. He thought that by leaving you behind he was protecting you from the shit-storm he was about to walk back into at the Renault headquarters. But you weren’t going to let him face that alone. You weren’t the type to force confrontation upon yourself, but by any higher powers above you sure as hell weren’t going to let this man face it by himself.

“I’m coming with you, Daniel. This is on both of us; I owe Cyril and the rest of the team an apology as much as you do. We’re in this mess together.”

“That’s not fair on you, baby. I’m the one who punched the idiot.” Just as the anger had left you, it seemed to also have left Daniel. He exhaled with a huff, and his hand reached up to drag harshly through the already mess of curls atop his head. The sight of the tussled mess was enough to twinge your heart - his hair had gotten shaggier in the past few weeks. He’d neglected to cut it, instead of telling you that when he knew he was going to have some time off, he preferred to let himself get scruffy. Even his beard had gotten scratchier and fuller over the days since you had both been back in Perth. He’d told you over a quiet dinner the night before that it was his way of telling himself that he didn’t have to worry about media perception - that he was free to act and look however he wanted without fear of his PR team looming over his shoulder.

But when Daniel’s hand tightened, and clutched at a fist full and tugged slightly, you stepped towards him. Raising your own hand to gently tug his away from his hair, you curled your fingers through his and brought them down to your lips where you pressed the lightest of kisses to his knuckles. “It’s not about what’s fair, Daniel. You always said that you’ve got me and that we’re in this together. That goes both ways - so let me help. You don’t have to face everything alone.”

“I’m just trying to protect you.” His hand moved from your lips until the back of it smoothed across your cheek. He didn’t untwine your fingers, and you didn’t pull away. You knew that both of you needed this attachment, this connection to one another. Your next words were whispered, leaning into the hand swiping across your cheekbones.

“I don’t need you to protect me all of the time. Sometimes I get to protect you too.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“But I want to, so why won’t you let me?”

As usual, the argument between you and Daniel had fizzled as quickly as it had arisen. Both of you were incredibly stubborn, detrimentally so, but the arguments that would’ve caused an impasse that would last for days or weeks with anyone else was always so quickly resolved between you both. It was like you knew that whatever it was that you were arguing over was never worth the mental and emotional toll it took on you both.

With a final kiss to his knuckles, you pulled his hand away from your face and said, “I’m going to go fix up my bags, did you want me to fix yours while I’m there?”

Daniel’s lips tilted into a soft and crooked smile, and he mouthed a quiet thank you with a last squeeze of your fingers. And just as you stepped away, the ringing of Daniel’s phone broke the small bubble that had ensconced the kitchen - that was your cue to make a quick exit to your shared bedroom and begin the monotonous task of repacking the bags that you had only cleared out three days prior. Daniel’s voice was muffled through the closed bedroom door, and you did your best not to eavesdrop on the conversation happening a few metres beyond the solid wood door, but it was hard to miss the disheartened and tired tone of Daniel apologising through the phone. From the sounds of it, Daniel was informing his mother of his sudden departure and apologising profusely for everything: the punch he’d thrown, both of your leaving, the now-cancelled plans you’d had with his family.

Without even meaning to, tears had begun to silently stream down your cheeks as you piled clothes back into your suitcases with disregard to how they were folded or organised. It was a far cry from your usual packing technique, but you were too upset to even pay any mind to the crumpled clothing in your hands.

You didn’t blame Daniel for punching Jack, and you certainly didn’t blame the media for uncovering your past - you only had yourself to blame. If you had only told Daniel of Jack’s existence in your life before this whole shenanigan began, maybe the entire confrontation with Jack would’ve gone differently. And maybe then the media wouldn’t have had the ammunition they did against Daniel and his reputation. And you certainly only blamed yourself for the scolding that Daniel was certainly going to receive and likely the public apology he was going to have to make.

God, if there was a penalty against Daniel by the FIA for his conduct, you were sure that you would go and beg the head of the organisation to take it back. You’d crawl in on your hands and knees and plead for them not to take the fault on your boyfriend because the blame landed solely on you and Daniel should never have to take the fall for someone that was your fault.

The squeak of the bedroom door’s handle was the only indication for Daniel’s otherwise silent entry. You hadn’t heard him get off the phone over your muted sobbing, and now it was too late to try and hide from Daniel how upset you truly were. Even still, you tried to hide your sniffles with a cough and continued throwing items into the bags in front of you - but there was no hiding from Daniel. His soft hands rubbed over your shoulders and bare arms, and the comforting weight of his body pressed against yours from behind, and another sob forced itself from your chest.

“I’m sorry we have to leave so soon.” Daniel’s voice was still as soft and hurt as it had been on the phone, and the husk behind it told you that the man wasn’t far from tears himself. His forehead landed on your shoulder, and the warmth of his breath brushed over your shoulder blades with a soft whoosh. “This was meant to be a getaway for us, and now…” He trailed off.

You shook your head, and raised a now shaking hand to his head, pressing until his cheek was firmly against your neck. There was no missing the sensation of him swallowing hard against your shoulder, another tell that the man was suppressing his own need for tears. “There’s no point dwelling on it now, let’s just get back to Enstone and deal with it all.”

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Daniel usually dreaded the flights leaving Australia - time normally dragged no matter what he tried to do to entertain himself. Even in first-class seats, he never seemed to get comfortable. The elation that he’d feel on the flight back to Australia from wherever he finished his season, was never the same as when he left his home. He was always left with an aching heart and a longing for just a few days more, no matter how long he spent in his hometown.

But now that he dreaded what awaited him in England, time seemed to fly by faster than he could keep up with. What should’ve felt like three days felt like a few hours, and before he knew it he was walking out of Heathrow airport hand-in-hand with you, Michael trailing along behind. And even with the red-eye flight, the early arrival time in London, and the suddenness of the flight, the press swarmed the three of you like flies to a carcass.

Ignoring the flashing of cameras and the incessantness of journalists' questions was a skill that Daniel had been forced to learn early in his Formula 1 career, so it was only far too clear to him that the churning in his gut was how bad he felt for you. You had only been exposed to such a level of media exposure in the past few months, so when he glanced down beside him to find you already staring up at him with wide and glassy eyes, he’d felt physically ill. It took everything in him to not sweep you behind him and break into a jog if only to escape the crushing confines of the camera-swarm around you. Thankfully he’d had to foresight to give you his sound-cancelling headphones before the press had descended on all of you, so he had the comfort of knowing that even if the sight of cameras being forced into your face and the jarring sight of people shouting for your attention, the cacophony itself was soundless beneath whatever music he’d started playing for you.

Under normal circumstances, Daniel was receptive to whatever press was circulating him arrival and departures from airports, tracks hotels - whatever. He was entirely too used to having every minute of his professional day being filmed or photographed, so typically the sight of photographers didn’t worry him. Unwavering confidence in the face of adversity was the usual dribble he told himself, but having your hand tightly wrapped around his own squeezing hard enough to fracture his fingers was enough to change his attitude entirely. He walked with a stride that told of its purpose: he wanted to be out of the airport and away from the sights of the media as soon as possible. No waves, no smile, only the tug of his hood further over his bowed head.

But even with the years of media training and preparation, it was hard to ignore the questions that the photographers were throwing at him, hoping for him to snap and respond.

‘Daniel! Can you tell us what happened in the store that day? Why did you throw the first punch?’

‘Daniel! Are you facing punishment from Renault for your actions?’

‘Daniel! What can you tell us about the allegations that you were with her before she ended her engagement?’

‘Daniel! Have assault charges been pressed yet?’

Over and over, the same style of questions was thrown at him. And they were easy enough to ignore. Only until one paparazzo decided to start throwing questions your way (unbeknownst to a currently deaf you). Daniel’s head snapped up at one of the questions shouted above the rest - he’d only caught a snippet of it, but a singular phrase had struck him with the force of a sledgehammer.

‘Gold-digging whore’

Daniel saw red. He knew he couldn't react, even every muscle in his body ached to throw another punch towards the now smug camera-man to the left of him who had begun clicking photos of Daniel’s disgusted and rage-filled face with such rapidity, Daniel knew it would make the next day’s newspaper. Daniel’s steps had faltered ever so slightly, and without consciously choosing to, he began to angle himself towards the man who had dared call you the filthy monger.

And then he heard the smallest of whimpers escape you. The sound shouldn’t have been audible over the ruckus, and yet, Daniel was entirely tuned to you. He was sure that on a regular day he would be able to separate you from anyone else blindfolded, only by the sounds of your breathing. So when the quiet noise had slipped past your lips, it was the only thing that held him back from stalking the man like a predator stalks its prey.

Daniel had to settle for a vicious glare. And then he gritted his teeth behind closed lips and moved quickly through the throngs of people bustling through the arrivals terminal. Only when they reached the car waiting for them outside and Michael began the usual process of throwing the suitcases into the trunk whilst you and Daniel practically threw yourselves into the backseat of the sleek black car, did the press begin to hang back.

Daniel wasn't sure he had ever been so grateful for tinted windows in his life.

Eventually, the car pulled away from the airport, and Daniel’s entire body relaxed - the release of tension from holding every muscle taut was soothing. Nearly as soothing as the mindless sweeping of your thumb over the back of his hand over the middle seat. You’d finally removed his headphones, but you still paid no attention to the other men in the car with you, instead, turning to stare at the passing cars and landscape outside. You had no clue of what the men at the airport had been calling you, and Daniel had no intentions to inform you of it.

There were some things better not told. Even though you had told him a mere twenty hours ago that he needn’t protect you all the time, he was never going to stop. It was never possessiveness or being territorial that had him so protective over you, it was only that he knew what it was like to face the unending and intense scrutiny from strangers around you and he’d never wish it on anyone, let alone you. But even that wasn’t the main reason for his intense protective instincts, it was the sweetness and kindness of your soul and the way you so willingly gave yourself to him and those that you knew. You so openly gave people your time and energy and love, and there was no way in hell that Daniel would ever let the stupidity of the media or the harsh words of strangers take that from you.

You were his to protect, and even if you thought it a rotten job it was one that he did with pride - because it was you. You were his everything.

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Cyril wasn’t expecting to see Daniel or his fiancée the day they arrived back in the country. He had expected the Australian couple to take their time readjusting themselves to the time change, to unpack and establish themselves back in Daniel’s home. So it was an unexpected surprise to the Frenchman when a soft knock on his office door had his head lifting from the pile of paperwork in front of him, to see two familiar and downcast faces standing in his doorway.

Cyril stood and moved around his desk to greet them both; a strong handshake and a clap on the shoulder for his driver, and a gentle double cheek kiss and hug for the driver’s fiancee. It was not unknown that he had a particular soft spot for the lady in front of him, how could not when she had clearly captured the heart of his favourite driver.

Daniel was an entertaining man - funny and dramatic in all the right ways, with a seriousness that called to his professional and intense work ethic. He was a talented driver, a hard worker and a PR team’s perfect muse; he was everything that a principal of a racing team dreamed of. And the woman that stood so proudly and loyally beside him only reflected further that Daniel was a good man; the magnetism and attraction between them was palpable to anyone that spent time around them together.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you two today.” Cyril directed them towards the comfortable armchairs he had in front of his desk. The tan leather seats had barely been worn in, the only evidence to suggest that whilst Cyril lived and breathed his work, it was not often that he had use for the armchairs sitting in front of his desk. His meetings were often held in the boardroom adjacent to his office, or in the briefing room at a race circuit. He had no use for the fancy chairs, and yet the designer of the building had insisted upon the luxurious choice.

He only further regretted listening to the designer when it became apparent how uncomfortable his two guests were, seated apart and out of arm's-reach from one another. The two people in front of him were not an intensely affectionate couple in public, maintaining a clear line between what was acceptable in front of watchful eyes and what they were free to do away from the professional. Cyril had spent enough time in both settings to know that even when the line was in place, the couple drew on each other’s energies - and right now, the couple was clearly and agonisingly separated from one another.

All of this was taken in in the few seconds it had taken Cyril to take his own seat back at his own desk and push his paperwork to the side.

“I figured-” Daniel corrected himself when his fiancée shot him a quick lock, “We figured that it was best if we came to see you as soon as we got here. We wanted to clear the air with you and hopefully the team… There didn’t seem a point to waste time and pretend like there’s not an elephant in the room.”

Cyril nodded, and he couldn’t help but flick his eyes between the two individuals sitting in front of him like children in the school principal's office. From the downturned mouth of the usually smiling Daniel and the glassy eyes of his fiance only seated a few feet away from him, Cyril knew that they had never intended to create the negative press they had.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” The question hung in the air with awkward silence. Cyril deliberately hadn’t asked for Daniel’s explanation - he knew you had a part in the confrontation with the man in the store. He was already aware that he was apparently an ex-partner of yours, but he had mentally prepared himself to give you the benefit of the doubt. You were his favourite ‘driver-in-law’ after all.

Daniel’s small clearing of his throat captured Cyril’s attention immediately; clearly, Daniel had been prepared to give his side of the story first. “I want to start with an apology first, Cyril. I know that my actions were...not respectable and clearly reflect badly on the team, and I’m sorry. The consequences of my actions are totally on me… And I’m prepared to prove that to you.”

“Thank you for the apology, but I will be honest with you, Daniel. I never expected it from you - physical violence? It does not inspire any confidence in me that you stooped to such low levels.”

The disappointed words had barely left Cyril’s mouth before you were leaning forward to object. As he expected, you had an input and clearly were uncomfortable with letting Daniel take the fall for both of you. “Cyril, it’s not Daniel’s fault. It’s mine. I’m the one that didn’t tell him I was engaged until a few days ago, and then we were practically ambushed by Jack in the store. He baited Daniel into hitting him.”

“Baited him how?” Cyril sat back in his chair and folded his hands in front of him. The couple in front of him had to know that he wasn’t truly angry with them, disappointed for sure, but not angry. Daniel was not a man of senseless violence, and even when Cyril had watched the video of Daniel striking the large man with horror, he’d already known from the rage painted on his face that Daniel had been incensed into violence. The video had been audio less, but just the sight of the blonde man’s mouth moving had grated on Cyril’s nerves instantly.

“I won’t repeat what he said. There is no need to say them again, especially not in front of my fiancée.” Daniel continued. Cyril watched with a still stern expression but a soft heart as Daniel’s eyes quickly flitted over to his partner, a mixture of anger for the words spoken against her, and sadness that she’d had to hear them at all. Cyril was single, by his own choice, but the fondness of his relationship sent a pang of longing through him. What he would give to have a partner in his life to be so supported by, so committed to that you would give anything to be with them. To protect them.

Maybe he should tell Aurelie to set him up for that blind date she had been pestering him over…

“Just know that he deserved a lot more than he got.” The venom in Daniel��s voice was barely disguised. “And as much as I am sorry for the flack that Renault has gotten over this, I don’t regret it.”

Cyril couldn’t help the laugh that left him. He knew that as the managing director of the company and being directly responsible for his drivers he shouldn’t have found the other man’s words as amusing as he did, but he couldn’t help himself. “You don’t have to regret your actions, Daniel. I too would most likely have hit any man who speaks of mon petite in such a way. Just, for the love of God, please don’t go hitting anyone else.”

And just like that, the tension that had been holding the couple in front of him stiffly eased from the room. Daniel joined Cyril in a small laugh, and whilst the Australian did not look as at ease as he normally did, he leaned back and made himself more comfortable in the armchair he was sitting in. But Cyril could not say the same for you. You were looking back and forth between the two men with incredulous eyes - clearly gobsmacked by the casualness with which the conversation moved on.

“So, what have you guys lined up for me in terms of trying to fix public perception?” Daniel said. Cyril watched as Daniel reached his hand across the open space between his fiance and himself to gently fix his hand through yours. Cyril was positive that Daniel wasn’t entirely aware that he had done it - it seemed that even though the couple spent as much time together as they did, the magnetism that drew them together hadn’t lessened with familiarity.

“Nothing too spectacular; we’ll have you sit down with a group of local kids from the Enstone public school and answer some questions. Film it, post it to all our social channels. We have another charity event we want you at next week as well. Until then, try and stay out of the public eye. Let all of this wash away until Horner comes out with some stupid comment that takes the focus off of us.”

All three of you laughed at Cyril’s last words. His dislike of the man was public knowledge, and he took every opportunity to quip at his favourite driver’s old team principal - even if no one was around to hear it. All too often Cyril had made himself laugh in his office alone at the thought of the Red Bull manager hearing half of the derogatory things coming out of the Frenchman’s mouth about him.

Once the three of you had sobered, Daniel continued his pressing. “Too easy, Cyril. Did you still want me to post on social media? Keep up appearances and all that?”

Cyril pondered for a second. He hadn’t spoken to the marketing team about Daniel’s social media activity around the whole thing, but what harm could it do for the world to see that even in the face of harsh criticism, the Australian was as personable and charming as ever? “Don’t go crazy… but maybe post a few things showing that you are back at Enstone and working with the team.”

Daniel nodded and pulled out his phone, likely going through previous photos of him in the simulator or talking with members of the engineering and production team; the man was never one to waste time. Cyril had a sneaking suspicion that Daniel was also showing his commitment to making amends with his boss and the team in general. With a quick announcement that he was going to speak with Aurelie about organising the meeting of the school kids, Daniel pressed a short and smacking kiss to his fiance and left the room, tapping on his phone as he went.

Cyril turned his attention back to the woman in front of him, who had remained near silent except to defend her partner and try to take the blame upon herself. He had no children of his own, so he could only imagine his fondness for you was an echo of that of a doting parent. “How are you doing, mon petite?”

“I’m fine… Only sorry for the drama I’ve caused.”

“Your apology, whilst appreciated, is unnecessary. Daniel is his own man, and with that, he chooses to live with the consequences of his actions. I was not lying when I said that I too would have hit the man who spoke of you in such a way. There is nothing you can do now except accept what happened and move forward.”

Cyril’s words were significantly softer with you than he had been with Daniel. The other man had an appreciation for bluntness - his partnership with Cyril had been built on honesty and teamwork. Their relationship was not of ass-kissing and worship, it was a partnership built on gentle criticism and genuine celebration of successes. Cyril had prided himself on their team remaining competitive and driven without the toxicity of Daniel’s last team. But his relationship was different with you; you were softer, and he was gentler. And although he had only known you for a few months, he knew that you were more receptive to kind words and compassionate encouragement.

“I need to do something though, Cyril. I can’t live with the idea that Daniel is the only one that can fix this. I played my part in all of this, I’m not just going to stand beside and watch the man I love taking all of the blame.” Your face had twisted back into the sad expression that pulled at Cyril’s heartstrings. The idea that had been stewing in his head for several months popped into his head again - an incessant gnat of a thought that peaked into his brain whenever he’d spoken with you. Prior to the summer break, he’d had an idea to get you invested in the company your partner worked for…

It had been hard for Cyril not to notice that you were uncomfortable with how financially dependent you had been on your fiancé. Too many times he had been within earshot as small discussions had passed between the couple. Daniel was adamant that his money was yours and that you were free to use it how you liked, but you had been so fiercely independent for so long that it only left you feeling guilty. Cyril was also all too aware that someone who had worked for as long as you had, and were so good-natured as you, shouldn’t feel hopeless in any situation.

“You are serious about Daniel, yes?” The question was left field, but Cyril had to confirm that you were truly committed to the driver before Cyril went and committed himself to you in a more… official manner.

“I plan on marrying him, Cyril. I don’t know how much more serious I can be about him.”

“I know, mon petite, I just had to make sure of it before I asked you.” His words were cryptic, and he couldn’t help the smirk that played across his face as confusion rose on your own. “I have been thinking for some time that we could use someone like you in our team. Renault is involved with a program that is focused on women’s empowerment and entrepreneurship… and we have been looking for someone to be the public figurehead for it. I would like to put you forward for the position.”

Next Chapter >>

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Another chapter up! Just giving you guys a heads-up, I plan on ending Stargazing somewhere between 25-30 chapters, so we're closing in on the last few chapters now. As always, let me know what you thought, and if you want to be tagged in future chapters just let me know in a reply/ask/DM :)

Stargazing Playlist Found Here

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softboywriting · 3 years

Text

Delicate | Billy Russo

Summary: Billy takes you on a surprise weekend trip and is forced to face some truths about himself. [Fluff] [Alternate Timeline - Castle Family Alive] [Billy Russo x F!Reader] [Assistant!Reader Trope]

Word Count: 4.4k

|Masterlist In Bio|

A/N: This is in the same universe as my fic Little Moments and Meet The Parents but can be read separately as a stand alone story. I may be doing several in a series with these two.

___

"I want to take you somewhere." Billy says walking into your shared office near closing time. He's got on a pair of jeans, a sweater and his boots. Not quite the usual work attire but you love his casual wear.

"A date?"

"No. More of a long weekend trip."

You raise your eyebrows and push away from your desk. A weekend trip is a big surprise. Not that you have plans or anything. "Where to?"

"England."

"England?!" You splutter. "That is not a weekend trip Billy!"

Billy gathers your jacket and purse from the hooks behind the door. "It is. The flight leaves in about two hours."

"Billy! I haven't packed a single thing, I-I'm not ready!" You take your items from him and run a hand through your hair. Weekend trips are like in-state or nearby. They're a night at a hotel and seeing a museum for two days or something. Not flying to England and doing Gods know what.

"You cannot be serious."

He wraps his arm around your shoulders. "I am serious. I've got your stuff packed. Don't worry."

"What did you pack me?"

"Clothes. Trust me, I know what you wear."

"Why the surprise? Why not tell me sooner?"

Billy chuckles. "Don't worry about it. You'll like it."

"Where are we even going?" You sigh as he walks with you out of the office and down the steps to the main floor. "London or Wales? Are we going for business or pleasure?"

"We're going to Devon."

"Where the fuck is that?"

"England."

You smack his back and he laughs. "You son of a bitch. Why?"

"Pleasure."

"Ugh why now though? Why not later?"

Billy opens the passenger door to his car as you approach it. He leans on the roof, gesturing you inside. "C'mon the airport is almost half an hour drive, and we gotta stop at the apartment for our stuff."

You sink down in the passenger seat and glare up at him suspiciously. He's being like this on purpose. You hate not knowing what is going on and he knows it. The last thing you expected to do after work was to be hurried onto a plane that is no doubt a multi-hour flight. But here you are and there he is, staring down at you.

"Get in? I'm not the one wasting time now."

"God you're beautiful." He leans in and kisses your cheek quickly. "And I know you're pissed." He closes the door and walks around to get in the driver's seat. "I promise it will be worth it."

You lean your head back and close your eyes as he drives out of the lot. "It better be. This is very spontaneous and off my usual rhythm."

"I know. But you'll love it. I know you will."

"Mmm." You turn on the seat warmer and relax into the lush comfort. "You're also lucky I love you, and trust you."

Billy chuckles as his hand finds yours, thumb stroking the tops of your fingers.

"I wouldn't let anyone else pack me a bag, let alone take me to a foreign country for a weekend." You scoff. "That sounds so wildly pretentious."

"It's alright. It is a little pretentious, but we've earned it."

"You've earned it."

"Hey." He squeezes your hand and you open your eyes to look at him. "This company is just as much yours as mine."

"Bullshit. It is not. My name isn't on the lease, it's not on the LLC, I'm just your assistant and girlfriend."

Billy scoffs and turns the car into the parking garage of his apartment complex. He lives close to Anvil, honestly you don't actually need to drive. He just likes to show off his car. It gets dark as you enter the garage but you can tell he's not having any of your shit.

"When I marry you, your name will be on all of that."

"What?"

"When you marry me?" You swallow hard as he stops the car in a space. It's only been a about six months that you've officially been an item. A little quick to be thinking about marriage.

Billy kills the engine and pockets his keys. "Yeah, when." He opens the door so nonchalantly, like he hasn't just thrown you for a loop. He walks around and opens your door. "C'mon, up and attem sweetheart."

"You're joking right?"

"About what? Marrying you one day?" He puts his hand on your back as you head to the elevator. "You're absolutely going to be a Russo. No doubt about it."

"I don't have a choice then?"

"Of course you have a choice." He presses the button to the penthouse and puts in the security key to make it go. "You can say no."

"Are you asking me right now?" You laugh and he turns, hands on your hips as he walks you into the wall, eyes locked on yours. "W-what's this about?"

Billy licks his lip and sets his jaw. It's not anger. He's making a decision in that brain of his. Is he asking? Is he teasing?

"You'll know when I ask."

"It's only been a few months. Don't rush."

"When you know you know right?"

"Billy, c'mon." You give him a look. "Using Frank's lines now?"

Billy steps aways, hands falling from your body and he runs a hand over his hair. "Sometimes that asshole is right about things."

You chuckle. "Sometimes."

"Enough about that. We have a plane to catch." The elevator dings and the doors open to the short hall before his penthouse. "Get your pretty ass changed and let's go."

"So pushy." You giggle and he shoves your shoulder. "Hey!"

"I'm pushy." He pushes again and you stumble into the door before he pins you against it. "You're so lucky we don't have time to mess around."

"Lucky?" You wiggle your ass against his waist. "Or unfortunate. Because any chance I miss to have-"

His hand comes up along your throat and you groan, tilting your head back. "Keep talking and I'm gonna make time."

"Or maybe we'd miss the flight."

"Little shit." He drops the hand on your throat and swats your ass before unlocking the door and ushering you inside. "Go change. Now."

"Okay, okay, good grief."

"We'll just join the mile high club." He calls out as you head to the bedroom to change. "I've always wanted to see how we'd fit in a tiny bathroom!"

"Those things are filthy! No!"

"Then you can ride me in the seat in first class!"

You pop your head around the door and he is grinning, leaning against the kitchen island. You narrow your eyes and he just raises his eyebrows. "Not happening."

"We'll see sweetheart."

"Whatever."

"Mmm. I'm very persuasive."

You roll your eyes and go back to changing clothes. If he thinks you're gonna do the dirty on an airplane he has a world of disappointment coming.

_________________

Billy always gets his way it would seem. Because less than half an hour ago you were on his lap, bouncing on his dick while he grinned oh so smugly. The flight was less than full for the first class seating, your nearest neighbor was across the aisle and six sections back. There were dividers between the seats, privacy walls. That's what really ended up convincing you in the end.

All that and you maybe sort of got off to the thought of being semi public about the whole ordeal. A kink you didn't know you had until Billy was whispering filth in your ear and making you squirm.

"How much longer?" You ask, curling into your seat and yawning.

"Three more hours. We'll land in Exeter."

"Seven hours to a spontaneous weekend? This is insane. When we arrive it's going to be dark. I assume you have a place for us to stay?"

Billy rolls his eyes. "Of course I do. We're not camping out in a train station."

"Oh fuck you."

"Get some sleep."

"I'd love to but I don't sleep well on planes."

"You fuck well on 'em."

"Billy!" You kick his leg and he grins. "Shut up!"

Billy puts his hand out and you take it. "We can go another round to kill the time."

You grab the complimentary earbuds in a little package and rip them open to stuff them in your ears. "Can't hear you."

"Bullshit."

"What?" You smirk, gesturing to the earbuds. "Can't hear ya."

Billy leans in and your eyes lock with his. "Maybe I should raise my voice then. And ask if YOU WANT TO F-"

You slam your hand against his mouth and he grins behind your palm. "Son of a bitch."

"You know I am." He licks your palm and sits back in his seat. He side eyes you, gauging your reaction to his childish move while nonchalantly opening a travel guide pamphlet.

You wipe your hand on his thigh and he chuckles. Whatever awaits in Devon in three or four hours better be good because he is really dancing on your last nerve. What has got him so wound up, you have no idea.

____________________

Devon is... breathtaking. It's the English country side on the ocean. The town you drove through was all cobblestone homes and shops and it looked like a fairytale honestly. Places like this didn't actually exist in your mind but here you are. It's so radically different than New York, even the country side of the state. You're stunned silent for the majority of the drive to your destination. Even in the evening it looks incredible.

Billy turns onto a road with a gate through a dense wooded area. The gate is open and he slides the rental car through carefully as not to scratch the sides on the narrow stone walls along the roadway. The path winds and winds until it opens up, the drive lined with a shorter stone wall as it leads to a large beautiful house.

"Where are we?"

Billy turns the car into the dirt and rock parking area in front of the door to the house. "We're in Dartmouth, just outside of it actually."

"Why? This place is beautiful, don't get me wrong. I'm just confused why we're here."

He looks over at you and brings your hand up to kiss. "I told you I was taking you on a weekend vacation."

"So you rented this house? Or does someone live here that we're staying with?"

"I bought it." He looks up at the door from beyond your window. "It's ours."

You turn and look at the house. "What? Billy you don't just buy a house! What on Earth is going through your head?!"

"What's going through my head is that I saw an opportunity and I took it. A friend of mine, Martin, had this place here after he got out of the Marines. His wife was English. Anyway, the family moved recently, and left everything behind because it is too expensive to haul across the ocean to Texas where they were relocating."

"So you bought a house with someone else's whole life inside?"

"Well, they took their personal belongings. It's furnished and decorated but we can change that."

You look over at Billy and lay a hand on his chest. "This is insane. Why would you buy a house in England?! What could you possibly want to do with it?"

"Live in it."

"Billy. Anvil is in New York. How do you propose to move here, bumfuck nowhere England, and run the company?"

Billy smiles and kisses your cheek. "Semantics. C'mon let's go see the house."

"Billy!"

He climbs out of the car and walks around to open your door. "It's beautiful, you're going to love it."

You step out with his hand in yours and he pulls out his keys to unlock the front door. As the door swings open you're hit with the smell of cinnamon, warm earthy spices, and vanilla.

"Come inside." Billy pulls you in gently. "It's incredible."

Inside is far more than incredible. It's like a dream, a home from some show book. The floors are dark natural wood, there are stairs with intricate banisters by the door, three archways to various rooms that are just the epitome of a country house. It's rustic, traditional like a farm house that's been updated to the modern century but kept it's charm. You feel like you're in a fairytale still, but it's real. It's so real and the house is so beautiful. You've never seen anything like it with your own eyes.

"Billy...this is...why?"

"You're very attached to that word y'know." He chuckles and rubs your shoulders. "Stop asking why and start enjoying."

"I will, I mean but- this is...I don't know what to say."

"Stunning right? So different than the penthouse or your apartment."

"Radically different."

"Come explore with me." He takes your hands and walks backwards leading you into a dining area.

You look around at the empty china hutch, shelves with various pots and pans for storage and decor, the huge wood table that looks like it was handmade by someone many years ago. "You're going to propose."

"What?"

"You're going to propose to me here aren't you?"

Billy laughs and steps close, cradling your face in his hands. "Maybe."

"Maybe?!"

"Yeah, maybe." He kisses you softly. "And maybe I just brought you here to get away from everything. Work, family, obligations. We can be us here. You and me, no one else."

"Billy we can be us at home, in the penthouse."

"I know, but this is a good place. The air is cleaner, life is simpler, everything is just easier here. We can unwind."

"You really bought this place?"

"Hundred percent. I've got a few payments still but it's almost paid off." He leans on a counter and you step between his legs. He gathers you close, hands on your sides. "It's got five bedrooms."

"Expansive."

"I think if...well..." He ducks his head in a chuckle, eyes refusing to meet yours. "If kids were ever, y'know, on the table. It'd be a good home."

"William Russo, you cannot be serious about that. You've thought of having kids? You?"

"No! No, fuck no. Maybe. I don't know." He pushes away from the counter and you'd stumble back as he walks into the enclosed patio off the side of the kitchen. "I'm just saying, it could accommodate kids."

You step down into the patio and look around. It's a simple screened in area, a sitting area and a terracotta chiminea sit on the right. "You'd have to marry me first."

"First?"

"Before I have a kid."

He laughs, leaning on the door to the outside area. "Of course."

"I thought you were afraid of having kids. Didn't want them to end up like you."

"Yeah well, I told myself a long time ago I'd never mess my kids up like I was messed up if I had them. I'd love 'em every day, make sure they know their dad loves them." His voice cracks and you cross the patio to lay a hand on his arm. "I won't have my kids wonderin' if their dad loves them. I won't."

"Hey, hey, you're not your parents okay?"

"I know. We'd be good, learning from our fucked up childhoods." He laughs joylessly and gathers you into his arms. "We'd have the happiest kid ever."

"We could. Maybe. One day."

"Lotta maybe's goin' on today." He bites his lip and puts his hand in yours. "It's late. We should go to bed."

"We've got a few days right? We can explore the house and grounds tomorrow."

"Absolutely."

You slide a hand over his jaw and pull him down for a kiss. "I do love this by the way. It's very romantic."

Billy smiles against your lips. "I'm not all hard edges and sharp wit." He kisses you slowly, pulling your lip between his teeth. "I do love you."

"I know." You bump your nose to his. "And I love you too."

_____________________

The sound of rain wakes you and you open your eyes to an unfamiliar room. It takes a moment to remember where you are. England. In a house Billy bought. Right. You rub your eyes and yawn big.

"You awake over there?" Billy asks, voice heavy and raspy with sleep.

"No."

"Yes you are." He reaches over under the blankets and wiggles his fingers up your side. "Little liar. How long you been awake?"

"Few moments."

"Mmm. It's raining. Can you hear it?"

"Yeah." You roll onto your back and Billy lifts his arm up so you can snuggle into his side. "It's nice."

Billy's hand finds your hair and twirls a piece between his fingers. "It rained the first time we met, remember?"

"It did?"

"Mmmhmm. The day you interviewed for the position at Anvil. It was pouring rain, I remember because when you came in you had on bright orange rainboots that you changed out of in the main room before coming up to do the interview."

You look up at him and his eyes are closed like he's picturing that day. "You saw that?"

"Of course I did. I see everything in Anvil."

"That's been so long ago, it seems like ages."

"Almost two years now."

"Crazy how things have changed."

Billy's hand leaves your hair and joins your hand on his chest. "Things will continue to change. Always."

You hum in agreement. He's right, logically, things will always change. But you feel he means more by that. "Billy, if you were to propose to me, how would you do it?"

"There is no fun in telling you."

"There is. It's healthy to discuss this in a relationship. So, how?"

Billy sits up a bit and you slide down his chest, face on his stomach. "Now, that's not fair. What about you? How would you propose to me?"

"I think, well, I think you're too smart. I think you'd figure it out before I could get it set up. I'd have to be blunt, slap a ring on the table and ask if you wanna do this."

He laughs, hand going to his chest as he struggles for words and air. "That is a hell of a proposal sweetheart!"

"You're a hell of a pain in the ass."

"Oh baby I know." He drops a quick kiss on your head. "I know. Now for me, I like to think I'd be a classic man. Dinner, dancing maybe. I'd get on one knee in a doorway somewhere and ask you, surprise you."

"You like to think? What's the reality look like then?"

"Reality is that you'd probably find the ring before I could plan something. You little snoop."

"Hey! You gave me free reign of the penthouse. No secrets."

"Yes yes. Alright, maybe I'd just surprise you. On a walk or something."

You rub over his chest and he hums. "I'd like that. But you don't wanna marry me yet. It's too soon."

"It's not too soon if you know."

"Yeah...let's get up. We have a house to explore." You sit up and he follows. "Maybe we can go into town for some breakfast too."

"Sounds like a plan."

______________________

The house is huge, well cared for, and beautifully designed. It's nothing like the apartments you grew up in your whole life. You never had a house, always dreamed of one. You like to think this one is exactly the summation of all those dreams. Like somehow Billy knew exactly what you wanted one day before you even knew yourself.

The gesture is lovely, the intent is good, but you cannot help but wonder why. Why now? Why this house? Why this place? Surely you shouldn't be one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but damnit you and Billy have just begun living together at his penthouse. You've not even settled the lease on your apartment. Now he's gone and bought a house in another country. It makes you worry, it makes you suspicious.

You don't want to push him. He has made it clear he doesn't want you to ask why, but to just accept it. That's not like you though. You can accept up to a point.

"Billy, I want to talk." You say as he sinks down in a chair beside the pool in the back area. You've gone out there post dinner for a swim after the rain.

Billy sets his phone on the side table and raises his eyebrows at you. "We've been talking all day sweetheart."

"I want to talk seriously. No antics, no sarcasm."

"Yeah, okay." He runs a hand over his hair. It's his nervous tick. A dead giveaway that he is truly listening to your words. "What's goin' on?"

You take a seat opposite him and take a deep breath. Where to begin. "Why did you buy this house?"

"I told you. Martin's family was moving and-"

"No." You say softly. "No, you didn't have to buy it from them. You chose to. Why?"

"I liked it."

"Okay. A house like this is a lot of money I presume. And yes, maybe the family gave you a discount or something, none the less it's a major expense for it to be a place you only come to now and again. What is the plan here?"

Billy chuckles and looks back at the house. "The plan is to live in it. Obviously. It's a house."

"Billy."

"What?"

You stare at him, lips pursed.

He looks away.

"We've only just moved in together, back home in New York. Do you plan on moving everything here? I'm just not understanding how this works Billy."

"Maybe someday we could move here. I suppose that's the end goal."

"You're thinking long term then? That I will surely be in your life for the rest of it?"

"I don't like where this is going." Billy's eyes harden and you know that look too well. "Don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything. I'm just saying that we're still very new into this relationship. It's been about six months, and a year of aqaintance-ship before that. I just feel like maybe you're making some very big moves and it's a bit much."

Billy leans back on the chair and closes his eyes. "I knew this was a bad idea."

"No, hey, no. I love this place, it's beautiful."

"I should have waited but I was just so excited about it."

"Honey."

"No, listen I don't know how to be in love. I've never been in love before, I'm sure of it." He looks over at you and you reach out and grab his hand. "I wanted to do this for you, to start putting things in motion because I don't want to lose you. I know that sounds so ridiculous, how does buying a house make you want to stay with me? I don't know honestly."

You squeeze his hand gently. "I'm not going anywhere I promise."

"I've never had something like this." He gestures to the house. "A stable home, a loving family. When we started dating, I knew I loved you. Hell. I blurted that shit out that night in my apartment. You had every right to be freaked out, to leave and quit Anvil. I was half shocked you didn't."

"I do love you Billy. The feeling was a hundred percent mutual. Don't doubt that."

"I don't. But I doubt myself all the time. Am I in love with you? Or do I have love for you? Over the last few months I've sorted out that I'm in love. I don't know how to be in love. I don't know what steps to take, how fast things should move. I can count on one hand the number of relationships I've had that were more than sex, and they obviously didn't end well. If the house is too much, we'll wait. I don't care if it's years, we'll wait to move here. Or if you don't want to then we don't have to."

"I'd like to, one day."

"I just-" his lip trembles. "I think I bought it because I wanted a better life for us. We both had messed up childhoods. I had a messed up early adult life in the military, did shit I didn't want to because I had to. This house is our chance to start over, to be new people."

Your eyes widen and he threads his fingers between yours on the hand you've been holding. "What about Anvil?"

"I can relocate. Or just...do something else. Anvil seemed like a great idea when I got out of the Marines. But now it's tethering me to my past." He brings your hand to his lips. "I want to be more than a dog of war. I want to be a normal guy with a wife and a kid or just a dog is fine too. I never pegged myself as one to want the white picket fence life but here we are."

You lay your hand on his cheek and he leans into it. "Three years. Give us three years together and if you still feel the same, and we're still together, we'll do it."

Billy leans in, bumping his nose with yours. "You drive a hard bargain."

"Learned from the best."

He smiles big, lips meeting yours for a quick kiss. "It's a deal. But I do still want to come here for vacations, long weekends and the like."

"Absolutely." You hold his face, his beard scratchy under your palms. "It'll be our private getaway."

"Mmhmm." He guides you up as he stands. "Now, time for the fun we actually came out here to indulge in."

You glance at the pool and he plucks at the sleeve of your tee. "It's our pool."

"Yes it is."

"It's very private." You giggle. "Not a neighbor for a few miles."

Billy lifts your shirt hem. "That's right."

You step back and pull your shirt off, pushing your pants down quickly. Billy quickly shucks his own and you both laugh at how ridiculous you look. You jump in and he follows suit.

"I've never skinny dipped before. It's so strange, like I shouldn't do it."

"It's freeing." Billy says, floating up to you and cradling your face. "Revel in it. Feel alive."

You press your lips to his. "I've felt alive since the day I met you."

"Me too." He presses your foreheads together. "Me too."

__________

end

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lady-o-ren · 3 years

Text

The Dig

You can read this on ao3 // HERE //

Suffolk, England

1939

“What's going on in Sutton Hoo, then that has you in such a hurry?”

James Fsaser reluctantly looked up from where his head had been braced on his leather satchel, clutched atop his knees, and gave the old ferryman a one-eyed stare.

“I've a job. Digging,” he swallowed, trying mightily to keep himself from retching as the wee boat he was in bobbed up and down like a mad carousel.

“You came all the way from Scotland to dig like a dog?” He laughed hoarsely, hawking up a wad of phlegm into the murky river water as he swung his oars.

“Ipswich,” Fraser muttered, turning a bit more green.

Ipswich Museum to be exact.

He'd been hired to help excavate a centuries old burial site located at a rural estate in Sutton Hoo, overseen by the archeologist, Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. A woman much admired (or envied depending on the man) for her keen mind and boundless curiosity (and unrivaled stubbornness that often spiraled into outright defiance according to those same particular men) that had her uprooting half of Great Britain in pursuit of the secrets hidden beneath the mossy plains. And more often than not her instincts were right and another antiquity would be dusted off to be reborn again.

Fraser wasn't sure what he'd done to earn the right to work by her side but Christ, he wouldn't question how lucky he was.

The boat then suddenly coasted to an abrupt stop against the rivers side.

“Here we are, Mr. Fraser. All in one piece. And I thank you for keeping me boat and boots tidy,” said the old ferryman with a wink.

Fraser didn't bother with a retort, he was just happy that the world had blessedly stopped spinning and hopped onto wonderfully solid land.

Smoothing the wrinkles from his attire and fixing his father's old grey cap atop his head (taking special care to tuck in his dark ginger curls that always peeked out from just under the rim), he made his way down the brambled path that the old man said led to the big house. After a brief introduction with the owner of the estate, he was then directed to where he'd be working, and trotted past the trees and sprawling country green to an open field.

From afar, Fraser could see three burial mounds jutting from the earth, grassy topped with yellow dandelions sprouting all over.

But what made his breath catch was the sight of the woman he'd been so eager to meet.

She was surveying the site with her hands on her trousered waist looking like a general on the cusp of conquest. Sensing his approach, she turned away from her prize and future glory, her short curls bouncing and gleaming a rich shade of earth in the dewy sunlight, and met his gaze with her own.

Sharp with intelligence. Kindled with mirth. Shimmering like molten gold.

"A Dhia," Fraser whispered to the fragrant spring air, and took off his cap, twisting it between his hands that ached to trace and memorize every curve of the archeologist's face.

She waved him over seeing him linger and a terrible heat sprang to the young lad's face at having been caught staring at the beauty like a halfwit, and forced his legs to move. Prayed he didn't fall flat on his face.

"Hullo there," she greeted, and clasped her small hand to his, but there was nothing dainty about its grasp. Fraser could feel the years of hard-earned experience chiseled in her palm that held his hand firmly, letting him know exactly who he'd be working for.

It sent a thrill down his spine.

"I'm Dr. Claire Beauchamp. And you must be the very late Mr. Fraser I've been waiting for."

"Aye, and I beg yer pardon for that, ma’am," Fraser replied in earnest, detecting a subtle spike of irritation in her voice, seeing the annoyed flick of her brow. "The morning train was running late.” By three hours! “ Then I had to wait for the ferryman to take me across the river -" He'd been taking his "tea" in the pub " - all a lousy excuse, I ken, but I promise ye it willna happen again."

Beauchamp crossed her arms and tipped her head to the side giving Fraser a scrutinizing once over that made his throat bob and the blood in his heart to palpitate.

"Good," she smirked, nodding her approval from his noticeable discomfort. "If you're anything like how the stiffs at Ipswich Museum described we'll get along well."

He clenched his jaw at the mention of the museum, the cantankerous men who worked there. Especially a certain Dr. Randall, who valued a good cigar over the work of a “farm boy”.

"And what do they say of me, if I may ask?"

Beauchamp bit her full bottom lip (wonderfully pink Fraser bashfully noted), quirking wryly.

“Quite a lot depending on who you ask. From what I've gathered you're hardworking, painfully intelligent and have an innate knack for reading the earth. But that you're also highly unorthodox, difficult and the most insufferable Scotsman ever to step foot in Ipswich. So naturally I had to work with you."

He let out a tightly held breath and chuckled softly.

"Weel, who am I to argue wi' a reference like that. I'm passionate about my work and little else, apart from food and kin. And while I've never been disrespectful to reason, I haven't the patience for men who think a title is deserving of my unquestionable fealty."

"And why should you? The conviction of a Viking is something to be admired not belittled,” she praised, making Fraser glow. "I only wish I could've been there to witness how you earned the ire of half the museum.”

“I'm merely in the right and they the wrong, more often than not,” he shrugged.

“I'm just as terrible,” she proudly grinned. ”But I know we'll make a good team. We'll have to if we want to tackle this lot.”

She motioned her head at the site looming tall, brimming with excitement that spoke to Fraser's own spirit.

"If that's so then it'll be an honor working wi' ye, ma'am."

He shook her hand once more and thought he felt her thumb move against his knuckle, light and curious as a brush stroke.

Working with two assistants from her previous digs (the studious Jeremy Foster and the wide-eyed youth Elias Pound), Fraser and Beauchamp made great strides in plowing the core of the mound that was the larger of the three, even when logic argued that the dip in the middle meant thieves of the past had already plundered it's horde.

But Fraser's gut and bones told him that there was something different about this one.

Beauchamp had thought so too.

"There's something grand and marvelous here begging to be found. Don't you think? Can't you feel it?"

The deeper they dug only intensified that feeling.

As had his attraction to the irrepressibly brilliant Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.

However, after a fortuitous streak of good weather, the air started to blow with the sweet scent of rain and the leaves of the oak trees that dotted the lush clearing turned toward the skies, parched and longing.

"We have some time, I think, before the rain comes," said Beauchamp, gauging the skies westward still clear of thunderclouds.

Fraser leaned against his shovel in the hollow of earth he stood in, his dirt stained sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and could see the mad impulse to defy mother nature flash in her eyes.

"Usually I'd agree wi' ye, ma’am, but yer hair -" his mouth flicked upward in unbridled appreciation. "Is curling like a tumbleweed."

She pressed a dirt-flecked hand near her temple and felt the wild frizzy pushback of flyaway curls fallen loose from her twisted bun, springing around her face like a mane.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she huffed. “Have I been like this all morning, Fraser?”

"Pretty much," he grinned, enjoying how her usual regal self pinked across her freckled cheeks and the wee scrunch of her nose.

But Fraser's smile faltered, catching himself for a fool, and averted his attention down to the soil where his heart had fallen. Writhed. Burrowed with the worms and roots.

For what use was it for a man like him to yearn for a woman like her?

He swallowed the hopeless lump in his throat.

"Shall we go for lunch then, wait for the weather to clear?"

Hearing the word lunch, Foster and Pound looked up from their own end of the excavation with hunger in their eyes.

"Did that on purpose did you?" said Beauchamp, throwing an accusatory glance at the ginger lad while trying to gather her wayward curls back to partial respectability.

He gave her a half smile.

"The Almighty is the one making it rain, ma’am. Take it up wi' him."

She sighed and her hands fell to her waist as she took one last disappointing glance above.

"I would if He ever bothered to listen,” she frowned, then gave the other men a nod that made them hoot and holler.

“Numpties,” she mumbled, though did so fondly, and puffed at a rebellious forelock flirting with the wind.

After covering the ditch with a tarp secured to the ground, the men headed for the local pub raucously singing an old drinking song with a few choice words changed.

Our Lady must have been an Admiral, a Sultan or a Queen

And to her praises we shall always sing

A pint for our Lady Beauchamp who fills us up with cheer

A pint for our Lady Beauchamp . . .

Their lady laughed and rolled her eyes, before waving the lads off with a promise to catch up to gather her things, and headed to the shepherd's hut that had been provided by the estate.

Fraser glanced back watching her go, and after a moment's hesitation where he reasoned it would be rude to leave without her, he too told the others he'd forgotten something and went after Beauchamp.

Cursing himself an "EEJIT!" every step of the way.

Inside the hut was a small curtained window softly lighting the room from the back and two wooden scuffed chairs positioned along the side wall with a table snugly fit between them. Beauchamp herself was crouched by the table legs where Fraser had left his satchel but it was now laid open on its side, contents spilled over.

At his unexpected appearance that shadowed the doorway, she turned his way with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, I was just grabbing my bag when I tipped yours over and . . ."

She held up his small green fieldbook opened at the first page.

And white-hot panic flooded Fraser's veins.

"The writing caught my eye," she continued on, seemingly unaware that the poor lad was gripping the doorway for support. "I didn't know you spoke gaelic beyond the odd phrase here and there. That you can even write it too is something of a feat,” she said, impressed by the words secreted on the page.

“Aye,” he managed to breathe, relieved that she hadn't seen a thing. Not a thing! “I don't get much practice living away from home so I speak it in my mind and heart, write letters to my family when I can.”

“You've spoken of a sister, if I'm not mistaken. Older or younger?" She prodded, as if he were a new discovery, and he answered in hopes to distract her from what she still held in her hands.

Felt a fluttering warmth overtake him that she recalled him having a sister.

"Jenny,” he said, as he moved to kneel down beside her to stuff his scant belongings back in his bag. “She's older and feels the need to remind me of that fact whenever we see one another.”

“And you're the brat aren't you?”

Despite his predicament, Fraser couldn't help the grin spreading across his face.

"I was the devil's spawn, aye, but Jen was no angel. We once got into a terrible stramash about our chores on the farm, the way wee bairns do, and I ended up telling her she had a face uglier than a coo, smelled worse than one too. Next I knew, I was being tackled to the ground wi' my face shoved into a ripe pile of coo shite and my sister above me laughing her wicked wee arse off.”

Beauchamp broke into laughter and it made his stomach do a flip.

“I'm sorry, that must've been awful for you, but I think I may love your sister for that.”

“Everybody says so. Not sure it was worth it in the end myself . . .” said Fraser, his voice suddenly trailing off at the end seeing her attention turn back to the page.

His mind spiraled into action.

"But we really should get going before the rain catches us. It looks to be a downpour, a terrible one.”

“Well it's a good thing we're under a roof then isn't it?” She countered, eyes sparkling through her long lashes. “ Besides I'd rather have an impromptu lesson in gaelic on what,” she paused, squinting down at the book opened on her knees. “Baa-mia-’bruu -” means.”

“Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr,” he begrudgingly corrected, wondering how rude it would be to just snatch his own fieldbook away. But then Beauchamp smiled as if charmed by his voice and echoed back his words with near perfect silky inflections, looking pleased as punch as she did so.

Endearing herself even more to the young Scot's already smitten heart.

“Verra good,” he hummed softly.

“Absolute luck,” she grinned, tapping her fingers atop his writing. “Now tell me what does it all mean?”

He shook his head embarrassed. "You'll think me daft, ma’am."

"I promise I won't."

She said it in such an earnest way, Jamie knew she spoke true. But then a deep rumble of thunder sliced through the air, enough to give Beauchamp a jolt that made her forefinger on the page slip and Fraser's stomach to rip and plummet to the old wood floor.

There, drawn on the page, was Beauchamp's face staring back at her.

“It’s nothing but some wee scribbles,” he stammered to explain, reaching for the book only for her to angle it away.

“You're right about that,” she agreed, her fine brows furrowing as she traced a slim finger to her pencil drawn cheek. “You've made one of my eyes bigger than the other, my nose a dash too long and -"

Her eyes went comically round as she pressed the pages to her chest, a sudden thought coming to her.

"You don't have anyone posed in the nude here do you?"

"O-Of course not! I'd never. I- I'd -"

"Breathe Fraser, I was only teasing you," she nearly giggled, but then her face softened with regret seeing his own face take on the horrible color of a split beet left to shrivel in the sun.

“But really, why bother with me?”

He had no answer but the one that pounded from his heart, a noise like a thousand drums that all struck the same adoring note. She could see it beaming from his face and a hushed silence fell between them as the rain finally came down, hitting the rooftop in a pitter-patter that enveloped her quietly spoken -

“Oh.”

That single utterance had Jamie wishing the rain would flood and swallow him up but it was now or never to speak his heart. No matter that hers would never be his to cherish.

Looking down at his hands, anxiously wringing the strap of his satchel, he spoke.

“There was never any helping it, me liking you. I'd never seen a sight sae fair as you, stubborn as you, nor wonderful as you. And I could never get ye out of my mind, no matter how hard I tried, but ye were always there like the sun and air."

He lifted his gaze to her likeness on the page.

"And then I just started filling my fieldbook wi' pictures of you if only to have something to remind me of you for when the job ends and we part ways. But I'm none so good as ye can see. I never could capture the grit and fire of yer spirit, the way yer curls bristle in excitement or the way yer eyes glow like a match to a candlewick . . . "

His heart tightened as his words faltered while Beauchamp remained quiet. Then like a blow to his chest she flipped through the small book once more, her face unreadable as stone. She looked through his sketches, one of her curls drawn like the ripples of the tide, another of her hands digging through the earth, and of her lush determined mouth curved into a beaming smile, bitten with impatience, beneath a perfect speckled nose.

And threaded between her gestures, her features were more bits of gaelic.

A bòidhchead . . .

Tha pian orm . . .

Tha cho teann sa tha a ’bhriogais gam iomain

"I told you I was no good. I ken I should just rip up the pages -” Fraser began to miserably say, but Beauchamp hushed him by taking his hand in hers and softly stroked her thumb against the work-hardened skin.

"You have a fine hand, Fraser. Especially for making my nose look as delicate as Garbo’s,” she smiled, cheeks touched lovely in pink.

Then in a moment that made it hard for Fraser to breathe, she simply said . . .

“Ask me for a drink.”

He blinked, thinking he misheard her, mouth agape. But there was no mistaking what brightened her eyes to shine like whisky.

“Ask me,” she repeated impatiently, almost laughing, as she squeezed his hand.

Fraser inhaled sharply and tentatively squeezed her small hand back.

“Will ye join me for a pint, ma’am?”

“Claire,” she grinned, and coyly tilted her head . “And of course I will. Took you long enough to ask,” she winked, making Fraser stare at her in charmed disbelief.

And then Beauchamp closed the distance between them, hand light as a feather against his chest.

“But first you ought to kiss me, Fraser. It's still raining and I might catch a chill from all this waiting."

Still staring at her mesmerized, with questions that could wait another day flitting through his mind, Fraser wove an errant bonnie curl around his fingers and smoothed it behind her ear. Letting his thumb drag against her cheek.

“It's Jamie,” he murmured, in a brush of his lips to hers.

And on and on it went.

Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr. . .

I dreamt about the mourning. The deaths of great men. Terrible men. Old and young. Of Kings lost in battle buried beneath us. They cried out to me and the Earth came to life and twisted her roots around me, dragging me inside her womb. Dark and cold, breathless like a cave. But I wasn't frightened. I saw lights rushing around me, bright as the twilight sky. The souls that lie ahead. Surrounding us.

They brought me to you.

A/N: This had a ton of notes and explanations so you can read all those on ao3. But for sure I’ll say here this is very loosely based on the movie The Dig.

#jamie x claire #Outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction

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