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writercole · 1 year

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Drive Me Crazy

Summary: A chance at a promotion becomes more than a chance encounter and a date is far better than par. Words: 1330 Warnings: bad puns, objectification, innuendo, language Credits: @princessmisery666 for being the best beta ever. A/N: I could not have done this without my Opie. This AU has been in development for quite some time now and literally would not exist had my Ope not forced me to watched this stupid movie about these stupid planes and stupid hot boys. I still have strong negative feelings about Tom Cruise.

Carla knew that her best chance of getting her promotion lay in impressing her bosses at the golf game she was invited to at the end of the week. The only problem was her lack of skills.

Everyone at the office raved about the golf pro at Sandy Dunes Country Club. When she called, she was informed that lessons were available to non members at a higher price and more limited schedule. She booked for every available afternoon slot.

Now that she’d arrived, twenty minutes early for her first lesson, staring at the lavish landscaping in front of the columned building through her windshield, she wasn’t sure she had made the right decision. Golf had nothing to do with her job in marketing. Her performance over the last several years garnered rave reviews from both superiors and clients alike and her colleagues adored and respected her. She didn’t need to be good at golf.

My marketing game is on par, I don’t need a golf score, too. That thought drew a laugh from her and gave her the courage to go meet this golf pro, Bradley Bradshaw.

“Who names their kid Brad Brad, anyway?” she muttered under her breath as she stepped into the lobby. Her sneakers squeaked with every step she took, giving her the feeling that everyone was staring at her, judging her.

She saw a group of men standing over by the pro shop, impeccably dressed and impossibly handsome, all three of them. One of them looked like a living Ken doll and another looked straight out of the California surf. The third reminded her of a more handsome Ricky Ricardo with his jet black hair and brown eyes. They all looked up as she passed, her eyes darting away quickly to avoid being caught, though they didn’t seem to care if they were taking their turn to ogle her as their eyes followed her inside.

She scanned the small shop, spotting another broad shouldered man, his back towards her as he arranged stock behind the counter. She approached slowly, still dreading the actual lesson but slightly less apprehensive about meeting her instructor. If he was half as attractive as the male models standing at the door she’d have trouble paying attention, but at least she’d have some eye candy.

“Excuse me,” she called, stepping up to the counter. As the man turned, she had to suppress a gasp. His eyes drew her in immediately. Warm and dark, they reminded her of tidepools on the beach, the sand turning the ocean water a brownish shade before it washed back out to sea.

The depths of his enchantment deepened when her eyes landed on the soft brown mustache, something that would have been commonplace forty years ago but had fallen out of fashion - and rightfully so - yet somehow, this man pulled it off. The faded scars on his cheeks told of a deep past, something that piqued her curiosity without him ever having spoken a word. As his eyes focused on her face, his lips curled into a soft smile, making her swoon inside.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asked. His voice was rich and velvety, wrapping her in a warmth that made her feel safe.

“I’m looking for Bradley Bradshaw? I have a lesson at 3,” she said, controlling her voice well enough that he didn’t hear the tremble of anxiety or the breathlessness of her attraction towards him.

“You’ve found him. It’s nice to meet you.” He rounded the edge of the counter and extended his hand. His hand engulfed hers, calloused and warm and strong.

“You say that now. But by the time our lesson is over for today you may feel differently.” She chuckled as she let his hand go, casting her eyes down in embarrassment.

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, I’m terrible at anything athletic.”

His eyebrows raised and his arms folded across his chest as he eyed her in disbelief. “I highly doubt that, sweetheart. I bet you could run circles around me.”

“Well, running isn’t really athletic and -”

“Running builds stamina. It’s important for pretty much every other sport as well as…other activities.” He winked and her face flushed, her bottom lip slipping between her teeth as her eyes found anything else to look at. The whistles and cheers from the group of men were silenced with a single look before he turned his attention back to her. “Let’s head out to the driving range. See what you’ve got.”

She let him walk in front of her when an idea crossed her mind. “What does driving have to do with golf?” she scoffed with a tsk. When Bradley turned around, his mouth ajar and eyebrows furrowed, it took everything in her to keep a straight face.

"You're kidding right?"

"I know about the golf carts but I mean, I drove here in a car. Shouldn't that count for something?"

Bradley scrubbed his hand down his face, folding his arms across his chest covering the sigh that escaped him with a hand over his mouth.

"I told you I'm not athletic!"

"That's not - I mean I - You -" he stammered as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, resting his hands on his hips when his gaze returned to her. When his eyes landed on her face, her eyes twinkled with mischief and her bottom lip pinched between her teeth, his jaw dropped. "You're fucking with me."

Laughter burst from her mouth, her head tipping back before she doubled over. Several long moments later, struggling to catch her breath, she wiped tears from her eyes. “The look on your face, Bradley. It was worth everything,” she stated through her laughter.

“Worth me dropping you as a client?” he offered.

“Oh, absolutely. I don’t even want to learn golf,” she shrugged.

“So why hire me?”

“It’ll give me an edge for a promotion,” she sighed. “Old white men and their boys clubs. They invited me to go golfing with them this weekend at some private course and I know zip about how to play.”

“Old white men and - you wouldn’t be talking about Mitchell, Simpson, and Caine, would you?”

“How did you know that?” she questioned, her eyes narrowing.

“They play on my dad’s course.”

“Wait, Goose is your dad?”

“Yeah, they were all in the Navy together -”

“Before they retired and went their separate ways and get together every couple of weeks to hang out.” She shut her eyes and groaned. Of course that would be the case. “I’ve heard their stories a thousand times. I work for Caine Technology.”

“In that case, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Bradley smirked, “he sucks at golf. So do the other three, my dad included.”

“Then how did you become a golf pro?”

“Sorry, that information is reserved for a second date.”

“A second date? I wasn’t aware this was a first date,” she flirted.

“Well, this isn’t, exactly. But I had planned on offering to buy you a drink afterwards at this great place I know that just happens to be attached to a restaurant.”

“Did I just ruin your plans?”

“Depends on what your answer is.”

“And if my answer is yes?”

“Then I guess you haven’t ruined my plans.” Bradley tucked his hands in his pockets and grinned at her, a boyish smile that made his eyes light up.

“Good,” she smirked, but her expression soon sobered and she looked very serious. “But my plans consist of beating your dad’s friends at golf so I need you to show me everything you know.”

“In that case, let’s work on your short game first. None of them can putt worth a damn,” he chuckled as he offered his arm and led her to the practice area. His track record with women had him sitting pretty in the nest as an Eagle, but with Carla, he wanted to get an ace or at least avoid the sand and land in the green.

#writercole #country club au #a drive for love collection #golf pro bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster #top gun maverick #tgm #cole loves stacey

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Just thinking about how loki will lose to his brother at golf or whatever sport they're playing and will take it out on me in the broom closet that would be lovely to be honest

Ya know, maybe a bitch is fucked in the head. I wrote a story about Applebees, so why not a match of squash?

Sore Loser

Warnings: nothing egregious, just Loki being a jealous man.

This is just for fun but always love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading and any feedback you have!

The brothers are far from amiable on their best days. The only true passion you’ve ever seen them show for each other is that of competition. The endless battle to one up the other, to shove the other’s nose in their achievements with an extra bit of spite.

You sense the resent roiling of the court as you watch through the windows. The steady thwack of the rubber ball as it bounces off the wall, the low grunts of the competitors forming a hammering rhythm.

As Thor goes high, Loki goes low, and you sip from the long neck of your insulate bottle, dreading the outcome. Whoever wins, you lose.

You’re almost tempted to go back to the courts above and swing a racquet with the old divorcees and griping wives of the older members. They talk more than they serve but it would give you an excuse. No, that wouldn’t do, he’s seen you and his brief acknowledgement draws the attention of his brother.

Loki winks at you and readies his serve. Thor’s eyes linger before slowly trailing to his brother. The former may be known as the trickster but the latter is hardly better. You’ve learned that thoroughly.

You kick a foot out and stick out a hip, crossing your arms as the sweat dries along the nape of your neck.

The loud collision of the ball against the wall jolts you but the serve isn’t returned and instead the rubber smacks the reinforced window. You step back and swallow as Loki drops his shoulders and turns to his brother. He gives a half shrug.

“What are you doing? Forfeiting is as good as a loss, brother,” he taunts.

“Your toe was on the line,” Thor says flatly and you step closer to hear through the clear barrier.

“It was not,” Loki scoffs, “you are ridiculous because you know it was a good serve.”

“Your toe touched,” Thor insists and points to his brother’s foot with his racket, “go again or I can take the point.”

Loki sighs as his nostrils flair. His lips thin, a familiar look, often aimed at his brother, dreaded when inspired by yourself. You chew your lip.

“Darling,” Loki breaks your shield as audience and pulls you into the action, “tell me, did I overstep the line?”

You blink and bite your cheek. Why hadn’t you been watching?

“S-sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” you say with a guilty smile, “I’m sure you didn’t–”

“Don’t try to have her bolster your lies,” Thor sniffs, “serve again, brother, or are you afraid I will trounce you.”

Loki huffs and rolls his eyes. He marches to retrieve the ball and as he stands straight, arches a brow at you. You should’ve lied.

“Fine,” he turns and sets his feet as Thor does the same.

Loki serves, the ball hits perfectly between the tin and the lower line. Thor returns it with equal zeal as the brothers move around each other. An elbow meets ribs but the ball stays in play, then the stomp of a toe, the jostling as both break the rules formerly disputed. Obstruction is the first sin of squash.

The dark-haired Odinson stretches to keep the ball aloft, bouncing it back with the tip of his racquet, but his perilous stance is toppled by a nudge from his opponent. Loki hits the floor hard as Thor slams the ball into the wall and it flies back without a response, rolling around the floor as silence rises thick in the air.

Loki says nothing of the underhanded move. Instead, he stands and grabs the ball as it nears his toe. He hands it over to his brother without a word and waits for him to serve. Thor cracks his neck with the tilt of his head and signals to switch sides before he gets into position.

“Match point,” Thor declares before he serves.

The returning volley is harsh and unrestrained from Loki. Their shoes squeak in a rally as they meet each other in stride. Back and forth, elbow, shoves, and stomps. You hate them and their stupid grudges.

You cringe as you watch Loki stumble over Thor’s foot and send the rubber ball above the tin. Out of bounds.

“That’s my game,” Thor announces and gives a hearty laugh, “bested again, brother.”

“As I recall, I won the last,” Loki challenges.

“So you say but I can’t remember,” Thor chides, “good game.”

Thor holds out his hand and waits. It’s shaken stiffly with a snarl recitation of the sentiment. You blow out between your lips and force a smile.

Thor marches out and gives you a smirk. You shake your head at him as you near the door to the court, “did you have to do that?”

“Have fun,” he snickers, eyes falling down your tennis dress. You put your hands on your hips and ignore the leer.

Loki takes his time before he emerges. You don’t know what to say, knowing whatever you come up with will likely piss him off. He returns his racquet and the ball and you cross to him. You place your hand on his arm, “I was thinking we could do dinner in the grotto. I reserved a private table–”

“You couldn’t have said I was in bounds, eh?” He turns on you, “always the sweet little one, hm? Always honest, or so you pretend.”

You swallow. You know not to argue. Not when he’s like this. Your husband can be as cruel to you as he is to his own brother. Thor has a way of getting under his skin and somehow that always spills over into your marriage.

“I’m sorry, I had a long match and I’m tired so… I wasn’t thinking,” you squeeze his arm, “please, don’t be mad. It’s a nice day–”

“Nice,” he hisses as he shrugs you off, instead grabbing your arm and wrenches your wrist up, “I don’t feel like being nice.”

He walks you backwards until you’re against the wall. You gulp as his other hand tickles the line of your throat. He shoves your hand down to his shorts and you tremble.

“Loki, someone could–”

“Court is booked until I sign off,” he snarls, “and I’ve not finished yet.”

You hold his gaze, green irises boring down into you. Your cheek twitches.

“Not here, why don’t we go find–”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He sneers and squeezes your hand around his crotch, letting your wrist fall as he frames your neck with his fingers.

“Loki,” you wince, “that… that was a misunderstanding–”

“I see the way he looks at you. Is he misunderstanding or have you not made it clear?”

“I have been clear with him, Loki, I swear. I’m your wife.”

“Then prove it,” he leads your hand up and slides it beneath his waistband, “be a good wife and I will be a good husband.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #thor #thor x reader #dark thor #dark!thor #mcu #marvel #country club au #lmao #au #drabble #ask drabble #dark!drabble #dark drabble

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k1d1c4rus · 5 months

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i have a bunch of different aus cooking that my partner thinks i should all stick in one big masterfic bc he thinks otherwise I'll get too distracted with them and not finish the latest cboyz chapter (he's right) but the worldbuilding is so fun and they all deserve to be like 10k words each

#honey talks #they're soooo fun tho there's high school band/soccer au peterick and tennis coach pete/country club brat trick #and staceys mom au with bear dilf patrick and home from college twink pete #and a whole soul punk era solo patrick angst fic #idk i just love worldbuilding

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terrence-silver · 8 months

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What if Scenario if you are interested: What if Terry and Mike took the part of Kreese and Johnny in The Karate Kid 1? So Terry was the one running the Cobra Kai Dojo and Mike was his star student? How do you think the movie would play out and how different would their Character Arcs be from then to now in Cobra Kai?

Jesus Christ, the life sized cardboard cutout of John Kreese will get replaced by a life sized oil painting of John Kreese in the lobby under Terry's tenure, won't it?

#i could write a whole novella about how under terry silver's tenure cobra kai would turn into some exclusive sports country club #with fountains and marble statues #terry silver #john kreese #cobra husbands #kk3 #cobra kai #au #alternative universe

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pilvimarja · 2 years

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🍒 out

#Chas Osborne #William Zabka #Back to School #pilvimarja edits #what a slu* (affectionate)#Terry Farrell is pretty tall huh 👀#still want that AU where Chas tries to hit on Mr LaRusso at the country club in his teeny tiny speedo #he'd make such a good 🧂👶#lol i don't know if that's sugar or salt but both are accurate with Chas 🤣

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caemthe · 9 months

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Sun is the light of the world; I bow to the divine decree. Sun is the shield of the clouds, the shining ray, destroyer of ice.

Full name: Sétanta macNessa Alias: Cú (Hound), Cúcuc (Little hound) Occupation: B.S.A. Agent Place of birth: Unknown county in Ulster, Ireland. Familiar(s): A pack of Irish wolfhounds. Rune affinity: ᛊ-Sowilō-Sun Likes: Dogs, parkour, skating

Biography:

Child of Light, Knower of Paths, King of Warriors... 'You're an unfinished poem, a wild thing, a miracle...' Born from the ever-brilliant daughter of fire, Deichtíne macMaga, and a mysterious man with whom she eventually eloped, Sétanta was meant to do great things while he lived. He was adopted by his uncle and head of the Mictíre clan, Connor macNessa, so, despite his ancestry, he was raised as a macNessa. The time and events surrounding the child's birth and first years were chaotic, to say the least, and, as the youngest member of the clan, all eyes were on him.

Much to the elders' and mage society's chagrin, the child turned out to be a genius. He absorbed knowledge like a sponge and didn't take long to outperform his peers despite his small frame. He was all that his clan had been waiting for yet not what they wanted, much less expected. There was brightness and warmth in his eyes. He dyed his hair and didn't present himself as someone to be feared. His way of thinking challenged the status quo and what the clan had believed in for centuries. The Stone of Destiny roared when he stepped on it in his ceremony to take up arms, recognizing him as a 'king'. The mighty crimson spear answered his call. He was the change no one asked for.

It didn't take him long to become an S-rank agent for the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs (B.S.A.). He gained the nickname Cú / Hound and has been using that ever since. Rather than maintain the sacred balance between the world of the known and unknown, he wants to help build a world where humans and non-humans can get along. It's an impossible dream, he knows that, but he has also spent his entire life making the impossible possible so he's not losing spirit anytime soon.

Expertise:

Sowilō: The rune of the Sun. It's the rune that represents wholeness & victory, sunlight & fire, confidence & motivation, enlightenment & the ancient code of honor. Sowilō brings everything into the open and strikes like lightning in a controlled and concentrated flash of overpowering, huge activity.

Familiars: Irish wolfhounds. A historic sighthound dog breed that has inspired literature, poetry, and mythology. Most often noted for their personal quirks and individualism. Motto: “Gentle when stroked, fierce when provoked.”

Weapon: Gae bolg (The Spear of Death), the cursed crimson spear made from the bones of the sea monster Curruid. Once it perforates the body, the spear opens and spreads through all the blood vessels of the victim.

King of Warriors: He's the seventh member of the clan to have been recognized as a 'king' by the Stone of Destiny in its 2000+ years of history.

#cu. ° ( lancer. )#au. º ( sowilo. )#hc. ° ( shooting star. )#/ makes another verse in which cú blasts 'born this way' at max volume in his conservative uncle's country club

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infamoussarcasm · 2 years

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Steddie Brainrot so real right now. All I want right now is an 80′s romcom style AU where the Fruity Four (maybe spicy six?) all work at some Bougie country club. It’s Nancy and Robin’s last couple months there as they are going off to college in the Fall but Steve and Eddie have no plans for college or any idea what they want to do so they plan on just continuing to work there. Steve knows that he’s going to be miserable once Robin leaves so with her encouragement he decides to try and get to know Eddie better that summer. Goofy shenanigans ensue, including drunken golf cart joyrides and skinny dipping and slowly but surely the boys fall in love.

#steddie #steddie au #steddie fic idea #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #writing #stranger things au #the fruity four #fruity four #spicy six #country club au #summer love #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie muson/steve harrington #steddie au's

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harrywavycurly · 1 year

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Country Club Eddie Part 10: Voice Twin

Masterlist: here

A/N: enjoy this look into how you and Eddie talk to each other now that you’ve officially met✨

*Eddie swears it was you who radioed in for help*

#country club eddie #eddie munson series #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson social media au #eddie munson au #Eddie Munson #stranger things au #my little dungeon master baby

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carewyncromwell · 1 year

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“All I want is the wind in my hair -- To face the fear, but not feel scared...”

x~x~x~x

🌹 HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri // learn more about Abraxan Derby here! 🌹

x~x~x~x

Abraxan Derby was a sport both native to and most popular in the Land of Clubs. This didn’t mean, however, that it didn’t have its fans elsewhere. Even in the Country of Spades, where street cars were pulled by mechanical creatures rather than flesh and blood ones, there were those who loved the freedom that the white winged horses represented. One of those such Spades was the young woman who would eventually become the Queen of Hearts -- Carewyn Cromwell.

From the time she was a little girl, Carewyn had always been enamored with the idea of flight. She found peace looking out from the highest height she could whenever she most wanted to be alone, and her older brother Jacob -- who worked for the Jack of Spades, Duncan Ashe -- used to love treating Carewyn to rides in the royal zeppelin whenever he could wrangle it. The young redhead’s love of flight also extended to winged horses. Although growing up in a rather poor home had made it so she couldn’t afford to travel and thus had only ever learned how to ride mechanical horses, Carewyn loved the thought of one day riding a real horse, especially an Abraxan. She got her chance, surprisingly enough, the day that the Country of Spades’ university hosted an Abraxan Derby competition.

The Land of Clubs and the Country of Spades shared a border, and it couldn’t have been more stark. As soon as one left the perimeter of the trees of the Clubs’ northernmost forest, they would be immediately greeted by a wide-open, industrial landscape decked with high-rise buildings made of iron and glass. It was only this forest and these buildings that separated the grounds of the Land and Country’s respective universities...and it was to hopefully foster good relations between these two schools that this competition was held.

Carewyn herself wasn’t attending university yet -- she was still only a lass of fifteen, though a very capable one. She’d more than made an impression at the court of Spades, after all the times she’d gone to visit Jacob and his “boss,” the Jack of Spades. Some even suspected that the hard-to-please Ace of Spades wished to enlist Carewyn to work for her in some not-too-distant future, though Carewyn didn’t show any particular enthusiasm for the idea. Instead Carewyn chose to work as a shopgirl part-time, so as to help financially support her family. As soon as she was done with her classes, she’d immediately dash out to catch the trolley, putting on her best shoes and her nicest pair of gloves while riding to the general store, and then she’d quickly fix her short ponytail and give herself a quick look-over in the shop windows she passed on her way over. Once she’d arrived, she’d immediately get to work behind the counter, bustling about to help the store owner with his customers and setting out on foot to deliver packages of goods across town.

This day in particular, at the end of her shift, the store owner sent Carewyn southward to deliver some packages to the university dean’s house. It was an address Carewyn was used to visiting -- the dean had a wife and several daughters, all of whom he loved to spoil with gifts, so him ordering stylish new dresses, jewelry, and shoes was a regular occurrence. Carewyn tried not to feel too jealous when she saw the pretty pearl drop earrings one of the dean’s daughters took out of the smallest of the boxes: the only earrings Carewyn had been able to afford were the rusted, clumsily-carved, flower-shaped studs she was wearing now.

Once Carewyn had finished her final delivery, she set off on foot back uptown so she could take the streetcar home. Her way was halted, though, by the commotion in the streets.

During the first round of the university’s Abraxan Derby, a particularly nasty foul had resulted in one of the Land of Clubs’ horses getting badly spooked by some firecrackers in the Spades’ side of the stands and its rider getting thrown off his horse as it took off into the air. This very same Abraxan ended up just as spooked, however, when it flew right into the path of a zeppelin, weaved down right into the path of a very loud construction site, and then finally zipped right into the very loud incoming traffic of several dozen streetcars.

Alarmed by the sight of the poor, panicking creature, Carewyn pushed her way through the bewildered, wary bystanders, fearlessly rushing up toward the winged horse. Although truthfully she hadn’t known how to calm a real, living horse any better than anyone else around did, Carewyn tried her best, speaking to the white steed as calmly as she could.

“Easy now,” she whispered, taking off her black lace gloves as she approached, “easy...”

The horse flapped its wide wings as if to ward her and everyone else off, but Carewyn nonetheless stood her ground. Several law enforcement officers tried to intervene, whether by urging Carewyn “out of harm’s way” or to grab the horse’s reins, but their loud voices only served to make the Abraxan more nervous.

“Stay back!” Carewyn hissed at them under her breath.

She turned back to the Abraxan, keeping eye contact with him as she kept a respectful distance. The creature was not going to let any of them get any closer, even if they did want to help -- that much was obvious.

Carewyn racked her brain, trying to think of what to do. She had to calm the poor thing down...

The red-haired shopgirl took a very careful step forward. The Abraxan padded the ground anxiously, its eyes locked on her. Not entirely sure what made her do it, Carewyn offered the horse as brave of a smile as she could and started to sing to him.

“The pale moon was rising above the green mountain...

The sun was declining beneath the blue sea

When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain

That stands in the beautiful Vale of Tralee...

She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,

Yet ‘twas not her beauty alone that won me --

Oh no, ‘twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning

That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee...”

It was a modest, old-fashioned melody -- a folk song, full of admiration. And perhaps because of the sweetness of Carewyn’s voice and the smile that made her voice and eyes sparkle, it held the Abraxan’s attention, making it focus on her enough that it slowly settled down. Finally Carewyn was able to get close enough to touch it, but she moved slowly, holding her hand out in mid-air a foot or so away from its nose for the horse to smell. At last the Abraxan blustered softly through its teeth and bridged the gap between them, bringing its soft, velvety nose up to her hand. Carewyn’s eyes shone like stars as she brought both of her hands gently along its snout and stroked its neck.

“Oh, you are beautiful, aren’t you?” she whispered. Trailing a hand along its back and wing made her wistful in a way she could hardly explain. “You poor, sweet creature...it must be so much louder here than you’re used to. It’s no wonder you’re so frightened...”

“Indeed.”

Carewyn looked up.

The crowd parted for a young dark-haired man only about a year so older than Carewyn to pass through. He was dressed all in loose-fitting, breezy green, and something similarly bright white walked alongside him. The young man’s Abraxan’s wings were folded up at its side as he led it through the crowd toward Carewyn.

“I’m afraid the stables and woods back home are remarkably quiet, in comparison to your city,” he said calmly.

His black eyes ran over Carewyn’s hands up onto the horse’s face and then back onto her with interest.

“...I must thank you for restoring some peace to her spirit.”

Carewyn blinked at the young man in surprise.

“...She’s yours, then,” she surmised.

“My teammate’s, yes,” said the green-dressed man.

Before he could say anything else, however, the traffic in the street seemed to reawaken. It seemed that now that the Abraxan wasn’t flying around like crazy, all of those people who’d been on their commute home or to work had lost their patience.

“Oi, can you take it outta here?!”

“Get outta the way, will ya?!”

“Move it already!”

The Abraxan started to neigh restlessly at the blaring horns and clanging bells, and Carewyn hurriedly tried to calm it by stroking its mane.

“You horrid people!” she scolded them. “Don’t you see you’re making it worse?”

“Clearly they don’t,” the man said very coolly.

Bringing a tanned hand through his own horse’s mane, he quickly leapt up onto its back and took hold of the reins.

“Can you ride, miss?”

Carewyn was taken aback. “...I know how to ride a horse, yes.”

A mechanical one, at least.

“Well, then,” the man said, undaunted, “best be off.”

With this, he took off into the air.

Carewyn glanced at the white Abraxan at her side and then up at the green-dressed man flying just over her.

Well, it really was the best way to get this poor thing back where she belonged, Carewyn supposed.

Despite her slight misgivings, she climbed up onto the winged horse’s back. Taking hold of its reins, she then took a deep breath.

“Let’s go, girl,” she whispered in the Abraxan’s ear.

She flicked the reins. The Abraxan reared back, its wings fully extended, making Carewyn’s heart slam against her ribcage as she clutched its neck harness for support -- and then, just as abruptly, the horse had taken off, soaring up into the air.

It was stunning. Oh, Heavens above, was it a thrill! To be so weightless and so above it all -- it was like pure, exhilarating freedom was coursing through her veins with the heat of hot iron!

Carewyn felt her face flushing with joy -- she felt like a child, uncaring that her hair had come loose of its usual ribbon or that it was flapping loose in her face. She didn’t care how she looked in that moment, or what anyone might say. In this moment, here -- she’d never been happier, in her memory.

The green-dressed man flew up alongside her, his soft black eyes and large white smile rather bright as he considered her.

“Your course is worth several rubies,” he said.

Carewyn glanced up at him questioningly.

“You are a very skilled rider,” he clarified himself. “You’d be an admirable opponent, or ally, were you to fly in the derby.”

Carewyn shook her head modestly. “Thank you...but I’ve only ever ridden mechanical horses, prior to today. I’m hardly experienced enough.”

“But does your inexperience not make your talent all the more remarkable?” the young man challenged her. “You bonded with your steed with nothing but heart and instinct, rather than tried-and-true knowledge or experience.”

“Yes, but if people were relying on me to help them succeed, I wouldn’t want them to choose me just with their hearts,” Carewyn said very firmly. “I’d want them to know I was the best choice, that I’d be the best I could be -- be everything they need me to be, and then some -- and that I’d do the best I could for them, too.”

The green-dressed man cocked his eyebrows. “It seems your standards for yourself are even higher than your flight trajectory.”

He soared around her in several graceful loops, his hands not even touching the reins. Carewyn watched him with admiration despite herself -- he was a very, very talented rider.

“Urge her up with a light tug to the reins,” the green-dressed man encouraged her. “Then lean to one side, pressing your foot up against her flank.”

Carewyn did so, and soon she was soaring up and over him. Her face brightened with a smile, and the green-dressed man grinned at her as they weaved back and forth.

“What’s your name?” he asked her.

“Carewyn!” she cried over the wind. “Cromwell!”

He swept right up alongside her, their horses’ wings brushing up against each other’s.

“I am Orion!” he answered as he passed.

Orion came up and over Carewyn, completely upside down, before charging ahead.

“Are you a performer, Carewyn Cromwell?” he called back over his shoulder.

Carewyn flicked her reins, determined to catch up.

“No! I’m a shopgirl at Pique’s General Store. And a student -- though I hope to work in law someday -- ”

She came right up alongside him, so close that their shoulders touched.

“And what of you, Orion?” she asked him. “Are you a professional Abraxan Derby player? Or do you hope to be?”

Orion beamed. “I wish to fly free. That is all I dream and wish.”

Carewyn felt her smile widen, both empathetic and charmed despite herself.

“And to win your matches, I would think,” she said a bit more coolly.

“That wouldn’t hurt,” Orion said amusedly.

For the next half-hour, Carewyn rode alongside Orion, perfectly matching his speed even as he weaved up over and around her. At several points she even overtook him, dodging and soaring like a shooting star around him. Orion’s black eyes sparkled brightly as they flew together -- as brightly as Carewyn’s own blue eyes were, if any outside observer were to have taken notice.

At last, the two made it to the university, to where the rest of the Derby players were waiting. The next match was set to begin, and the Land of Clubs had been a little tense about how long their captain had been gone. Orion, however, soothed their concerns with relative ease, his smile and aura remarkably calm.

“A rider without his steed is akin to a shooting star pinned to the earth. Although yes, one could shine brightly while stationary, that star would lament being so locked in place, unable to fly across the sky.”

His eyes flitted over to Carewyn brushing her loose hair out of her face as she disembarked. As she did, she reacted with surprise as her hands ran over her ears and a flash of faint resignation rippled over her face.

Orion approached her, and Carewyn immediately put on a smile as she faced him.

“Well...” she said slowly, “I suppose I’d best be getting on. I hope your match goes well...with how good of a flier you are, I’m sure you’ll be brilliant...”

“You’re welcome to stay and watch,” Orion invited her.

Carewyn’s smile softened. “Thank you...but my brother will be getting off work soon -- he’ll be worried, if I’m not home when he gets there...”

She curled her loose hair behind her ears. Orion noted immediately that she was only wearing one flowery earring made out of crudely-shaped steel.

“Did you lose your earring?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Carewyn said offhandedly. “I suppose it must’ve come off, while I was riding. But it’s all right -- I’ll save up for a new pair.”

She extended a hand to Orion. He looked down at it, before gently taking and shaking it.

“My team and I owe you a debt, Carewyn Cromwell,” said Orion. “Thank you.”

“Nonsense!” huffed Carewyn. “Why, I only did what anyone would’ve done, in my place...”

She brought a gentle hand along the back of the Abraxan she’d ridden, and the winged mare brought her nose up to Carewyn’s cheek with an affectionate murr.

“Perhaps,” said Orion, “but you were ultimately the only one who did it.”

He inclined his head to her, his black eyes glinting with a touch of mischief as he smiled.

“I lament that we probably won’t meet again, unless by chance. But perhaps if you were to become a performer, as I supposed you might be, you might have more reason to travel to the Land of Clubs.”

Carewyn beamed. “Or maybe once I graduate university and have made my own way in the world, I’ll have more chance to go where I want. Then I can visit you, just as well as you can visit me.”

Orion’s eyes sparkled. “May we both chase that freedom.”

~*~

By the following night, Orion had already departed back to the Land of Clubs. That next week, though, Carewyn was startled to receive a tiny package in the mail, addressed from the Land of Clubs. Inside was a pair of sparkling emerald green earrings shaped like clubs and a very short note --

I hope these are a suitable replacement for the one you lost. As much as your talent in flying is worthy of rubies, I thought the stone of intuition better suited your aura. If nothing else, a green clover seems good company for the Rose of Tralee.

I sincerely hope our paths will cross again.

Fairfarren,

Orion Amari

Carewyn wore those earrings nearly every day from then on, taking exquisite care of them all the while. She even wore them after she moved to the Kingdom of Hearts and -- not long later -- became their Queen. By that point, Orion had likewise become King of Clubs: a role that Carewyn knew very well Orion would’ve likely never chosen for himself, however much he felt an obligation to his people, country, and allies to care and provide for them.

As much as the two royals had to perform on protocol, though, they still always enjoyed whenever they had the chance to collide again. At least then, for part of that time, they could chat, banter, and confide like ordinary people...as friends would...free of their duty and obligations, if only for just a little while.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cardverse au #hphm cardverse #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #my writing #aesthetic #moodboard #yay queen of hearts and king of clubs!#yeah I kind of intend to leave their relationship vague in this universe #you can see it either romantically or not because really either way these two really respect and understand each other #I love giving these two a history with abraxans though because in my canon for them they both have abraxan patronuses!! ;~;#the rose of tralee is a traditional irish folk song that was popularized in the victorian era #so yeah -- its era fits the steampunk country of spades and its theme suits the woodsy land of clubs!#'pique' is what the french call the suit of spades :D

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