#doing a charity event on Thick's birthday is much more fun and what he wanted to do
Text
We can't be sad today. He wouldn't want that.
#long live the wyvern king#the boys said they won't do anything special for today#not a day they wanna celebrate or i guess acknowledge#and i don't blame them#doing a charity event on Thick's birthday is much more fun and what he wanted to do
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
ocean eyes – chris evans
previous part: PART XII — masterlist
concept: chris is hosting a charity event, and asks you to be his date. tensions come to a head in the friendship group when things get out of hand. the slowest of slow burns. part thirteen of many.
pairing: chris evans x reader // platonic!sebastian stan x reader
word count: 5,1k
warnings: tw:blood (reader breaks a glass and accidentally cuts herself), angst
author's note: the quote that is bolded in this part is a direct quote from chadwick boseman. as a south african, he, and his portrayal of the black panther, meant the world to me. i very briefly considered making the gala in this part be held in his honour, but i felt it might be insensitive, especially with everything else effectively overshadowing it. so i just included the quote as a little ode to him. rest well, king.
If scientists were ever to turn their dissecting gaze to the the phenomenon of The Third Wheel, you would be a prime specimen candidate for study.
Because in that week she stayed, your status was relegated to just that: a third wheel.
The tabloids had fun with that, too. You were becoming a national treasure of a meme. You'd even seen yourself on Twitter the other day, the caption reading "my friends vs me" attached to some sneakily taken paparazzi picture of you reading a book under a tree in the park while looking every bit as stone-faced and disinterested while Chris and Lily could barely keep their hands off each other.
In every photo that followed, it was the same. If you wanted to keep someone distracted for hours, ask them to pore over every single newly published photo of Lily and Chris, and try and find a single one where they weren't touching eachother.
They'd come up empty, because it was a waste of time. Overnight, Chrily had become the new celebrity couple of the moment.
And you'd become the patron saint of third wheels everywhere.
It wasn't like you'd forced yourself on the couple, begging to go out with them. If anything, you would've much rather been in Tibet, if not the furthest geographical location away from them and their canoodling.
But the thing about Lily was that she was so damned nice, that whenever you declined their offer, she would insist until you said yes.
The newest picture on your feed, retweeted lovingly by your friends and apparently thirty thousand people worldwide, was of you, mid-eyeroll, mouth stuffed with pizza while Chris and Lily cuddled next to you at the restaurant you had gone to earlier that week for lunch, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. The caption was the forever classic "mood."
You tried not to groan. It wasn't particularly flattering, and definitely not dignified having so many people watch you endure this.
At least the paps couldn't follow you into the house, because that was where the real magic happened. Many a night you would wait patiently for Chrily to stop whatever it was they were doing on the couch and take it back to the bedroom before you'd sneak into the kitchen, trying to stealthily drown your sorrows in Hagen Dasz.
Because once they'd take it to the bedroom... needless to say, Dodger had become a regular bunk mate of yours, and the bathroom doors remained firmly shut with music blasting on your earphones.
There were different kinds of sadness rejection could leave you with. There was the immobilizing kind, the kind that would leave you bed bound and catatonic, purely unable to move.
And then there was what you were experiencing. The kind that had you dragging yourself out of the house at any possible spare moment, just to not be in close quarters with them, but also to not be alone with your thoughts.
So that was why, when Chris found you, you were outside, sunbathing by the pool, while Dodger pranced through the sprinklers in the large lawn beside you.
"Have you seen this?" Your voice had become somewhat devoid of emotion the past few days. You knew that if you let yourself feel too much, you'd feel it all. And then you'd show your hand. "This is the greatest feeling in the world."
You passed your phone to Chris, who was chuckling at the flatness of the tone in which you had rejoiced. That chuckle morphed into full blown laughter when he saw the meme that you had been looking at earlier.
"Yeah, laugh it up," you mocked. "You're going to have to start paying me more now, you know. I'm famous."
"Would a higher salary buy me a date to tonight's benefit?" Chris asked, still laughing a little when he passed the phone back to you.
"What happened to Lily?"
You knew he wasn't asking you because he'd wanted you there with him. He was asking you because something must've happened to prevent time spent with his precious girlfriend. God, you sounded bitter. Jealousy really did not become you.
"She had to fly back to London last night," he said, forlorn. "Something came up. She said she'd try to make it, but I haven't heard from her yet and it's an eleven hour flight."
You hummed in response, your only indication to having heard him. Your eyes were closed behind your sunglasses, but you could hear the frown in his voice when he continued.
"The dinner is already paid for, and I have a dress waiting for you. I got it for Lily for tonight, but–"
"You know, in some countries, buying a date for the night is called solicitation. And I'm sorry, Chrisopher," you said, finally turning your head to look at him, "but I'm just not that kind of girl."
His last ditch effort to persuade you had your attention. "There will be an open bar."
"You really know how to make a girl swoon."
———————
The dress was waiting for you when you stepped out of the shower. It was laid out on your bed, a rich, deep, violet. Demure, but corseted, with a floor length skirt.
If it was bought to fit Lily... You swallowed thickly, self conscious in your own body for the first time since you'd been in high school.
You were comfortable in your body. So much so, you'd even danced burlesque in front of many an ogling stranger at Chris' dare on your birthday.
But Lily... She was not quite of this world. And once again, jealousy struck in the worst sense: you were drawing comparisons to her and yourself. Which was never healthy.
The dress fit you surprisingly well – but the moment of truth would only come once the zipper was done up. For all your trying, you simply could not reach it long enough to zip it fully by yourself.
You had become accustomed to Chris barging into your room unannounced, so the soft knock at your door had your heart leaping into your throat.
"Are you ready? The car should be arriving in..." There was some shuffling – Chris pulling his suit sleeve back to check his watch. "Ten minutes."
If your heart hadn't already been in your throat, it certainly was now. "Just a minute," you strangled out, a new sense of vigour in your motions as you struggled to reach the zipper.
"You alright in there?" Chris called through the door.
"I'm–" You huffed in exasperation, giving up.
Not waiting for an invitation, in case something was truly wrong – you had a habit of keeping those kinds of things to yourself, even if they tore you apart within – Chris cracked the door, peering in, eyes downcast and averted in case you were in a compromising position. "Can I come in?"
Swallowing your humility, you hummed your admission.
He slipped into your room, eyes still on the ground. His hands slid into his pockets – something you realised he tended to do if he was a little uncomfortable or if he was trying to find the right words to say. Being a man with such a vast vocabulary, he often found himself dumbfounded in your very presence.
"You could at least look at me."
It was intended as a joke, but your voice was cracked and soft, and it sounded so much... more than what you meant.
He slowly pulled his eyes towards your face, taking you in from the floor up. His raking stare landed on your bare back, and, without much of a prompt, he strode over to you, hand already inching towards the zipper.
He felt you tense – he was that close to you.
"May I?" He asked, so gently that you wouldn't have even heard it if the room hadn't been so suddenly still, and if he hadn't been standing so fucking close.
You couldn't speak, tongue thick in your mouth. So you just nodded.
His knuckle grazed up your spine as he zipped the dress, and if he didn't notice the gooseflesh that rose, he certainly did when once the dress was zipped, he absentmindedly smoothed his warm hands over your shoulderblades.
You shuddered under his touch, but found yourself pulling away. You had a habit of doing that, too. Not that it was unwarranted – he simply just wasn't yours to touch.
Slowly, you turned to face him, and the look on his face – followed by a near imperceptible sharp gasp – nearly made your heart explode.
The dress hugged your every curve, complimenting you perfectly. If you let your imagination escape you, you would almost imagine it had been made with the intention of you wearing it, and you alone.
"I'm surprised it fits," you said, only to break the stretch of silence that had gathered.
"Why?" He shrugged, reeling himself in. The moment was gone instantaneously. "It's tailored to you. It's yours."
———————
The gala was a private party, but that didn't stop the press from waiting outside the gates.
Camera flashes blinded you, even behind the tinted windows of the rented town car, and you felt yourself withdrawing from the windows altogether.
Unfortunately, that just brought you closer to Chris, who was seated with you in the back on the plush leather seats.
"Sorry," you mumbled, having pressed yourself into his shoulder.
There was tension in the car – you'd have to be well and truly inept to not notice. It was slowly dawning on you, how unusual this all was. He had a girlfriend, for fuck sakes. What were you doing there with him?
It was almost a relief getting out of the car, the cool night air caressing your skin as you inhaled deeply, steeling yourself. It had become immeasurably stuffy in the backseat, and you were just grateful that the discomfort brewing in the pit of your stomach dissipated with every new fresh breath of air.
The air was misted with ocean spray, and in the distance, you could hear the crashing of waves against rocks, churning sea perfectly mirroring your roiling emotions.
The grecian style manor in which the gala took place sat atop a cliffside, overlooking dark, inky sea. It was almost enough to take your breath away.
A long set of marble stairs led to the open double doors, and just from being their waitress, you knew how celebrities thrilled in making an entrance. And what an entrance it was.
Panting slightly from the climb – especially having done so in heels, and without the assistance of Chris' waiting arm – you stepped into the gilded foyer, guarded by marble Greek statues and busts. A crystal chandelier cast warm light, reflecting off the large pillars that held the roof like Atlas was said to have held the world.
Chris playfully chucked you under your chin to shut your open hanging mouth. Your teeth clattered together and he gave you a knowing smirk. "Has anyone ever told you that you're easy to impress?"
"Then you must be severely unimpressive, Evans," you hissed back before making your way past him and towards the doors leading to he ballroom. Judging by the chatter you could hear inside, this was where the event was being held. Perceiving that you were alone, you turned at the doorway to see Chris watching you leave, brow furrowed in thought.
"Chris?"
He snapped out of it, raising his brows in question. "Yeah?"
"Are you coming?"
"To my own event?" He smirked, striding over to join you. "Of course."
———————
The charity was held in honour of Children in Need and The Children's Trust, two charities Chris worked closely with.
As the host, he had a lot of rounds to make, and you found yourself standing a little off to the side, following him like a shadow, unsure of what to do with yourself.
Your line of charity work was more hands on, having helped rebuild houses and gather supplies following natural disasters. You were primarily a volunteer. But suddenly, to be surrounded by the wealthy benefactors – who you knew you'd never be able to do much without in the world – you were at a loss.
Wealth dripped from women's ears in the form of drooping diamond earrings, their very bodies clad in money, while the men sported it around their wrists and in their suits. You had never felt so plain, so simple in your stature before.
After the fifteenth handshake, you decided to let Chris do what he did best. His natural charisma and charm was already hard at work, and you tried to slip away without him noticing.
You had made it all of two steps when his hand found your wrist, gently pulling you back to him. His voice was low. "Where are you going?"
"Participate in the open bar, see if I can spot any familiar faces..." In all honesty, you were just uncomfortable, and the smile on your face was becoming increasingly fake. You needed a moment to yourself to gather your thoughts, organize them properly.
His other hand had found your waist, a thumb subconsciously running along the velvet coated boning of the corset as he searched your eyes. Conclusive that nothing was outwardly wrong, he let you go.
"Save me the last dance," he said, eyes bright under the golden light.
You smiled tightly. As you departed, you called over your shoulder: "no promises."
———————
The corset was feeling tighter by the passing second.
You were stood at the donations table, where guests could anonymously place their contributions to the charity of their choice. And the numbers people were dropping, casually, like it was nothing...
Of course, you understood that it was everything. These children needed it. But you had wanted to donate something too, and you felt disheartened by the ever climbing amount of money they placed.
It helped to have deep pockets, but yours were shallow. A contribution was a contribution, though, and every cent counted.
Tentatively, you picked up the engraved golden fountain pen that had probably just been discarded by Elon Musk, and shakily scrawled your number down.
A low whistle from behind you nearly made you leap out of your skin. Turning, you shot a burning glare to Sebastian, who had just arrived. He had spotted you, and promptly came over to hover over your shoulder.
"That's quite a sum of money," he commented.
"I'm sorry that not all of us fought a giant grape in the world's highest grossing film of all time, but I'm doing what I can," you growled back.
"Easy, tiger," he said, hands up in surrender. "That's not what I meant."
You had known what he meant, just given the admiration on his face. He was pleasantly surprised and appreciated your effort, even if it didn't even come close to the lowest bid the others had laid.
You supposed you were just irritated – irritated you couldn't do more, that you hadn't done more. That you were at this event that you clearly shouldn't be at. An event that Lily would've shone by Chris' side at.
"I'm sorry," you sighed. Sebastian wasn't deserving of your bark nor bite. You decided a joking remark would ease the tension. "These are meant to be done anonymously, you know."
"Yeah, but everyone drunkenly boasts about it eventually. Especially the older ones," he said, sliding easily past you to place his own money. You didn't look at the number – it felt like it would cheapen the act of charity.
He led you to the bar, where Mackie had struck up a conversation with Scarlett. It was nice to see them all again, familiar faces in a sea of unknowns.
Scarlett stunned in a subdued midnight blue – pantsuit snug on her form in suggestion of a good tailor – her hair falling around her shoulders, lips painted a red reminiscent of her name.
She brightened when she saw you, immediately roping you into a perfume scented hug. "Oh, thank God, save me from him."
You laughed softly into her hair. "I'm sorry, but once he's got his hooks in, there's no letting go."
"You got that right." Anthony pulled you into a hug of his own once Scarlett released you. "How're you doing, girl?"
You waved off his concern as he scanned your face. "I'm fine."
"You having a fun time third wheeling?" Scarlett sipped her cocktail, imprinting a perfect red stain on the rim. There was a sparkle in her eyes, and you just knew.
"Oh no..."
"Oh yes," Anthony chuckled.
"You've all seen it?" Your eyes rested on Sebastian when you asked, who had his elbows propped on the bar, waiting for his drink. He was the only one who hadn't admitted to it yet.
"It's all I can see every time I open any social media," he grinned, nodding to the bartender in thanks when the drink was served. "Congratulations, you're an overnight national treasure."
Anthony raised his glass in toast to you. "To {your name}."
The clink of Scarlett's glass against Anthony's really drove the slow embarrassment creeping across your cheeks. "Not the hero we needed."
"But the hero we deserved," finished Sebastian.
"You rehearsed this, didn't you?" You groaned. You reached for Sebastian's freshly poured drink. "What is that?"
"Bourbon... Why do you–? Hey!"
You had promptly taken the glass from him at the mention of hard liquor and threw it back, embracing the burn the alcohol consumed your throat in.
"That's the spirit," Anthony winked.
Seb was pouting, mournfully staring at the crystal tumbler you had returned to his reaching hand. "I just got that..."
While Sebastian ordered another – and a drink for you specifically, so as to prevent further robbery – Scarlett leaned closer to you. "Where are the first and second wheels anyway? I haven't seen the first, and have yet to meet the second."
"The first is over there," you pointed him out once you'd spotted him in the crowd. "And the second, well... She's–"
And in your surprise, you abruptly cut yourself short. Because gliding through the doors was a woman looking every bit as beautiful as how one would perceive a real life Disney princess, clad in sweeping pale pink chiffon that shimmered with every movement, hair coiled in perfect ringlets and held in place with jeweled flower hairpins. She was breathtaking.
"Well, she just walked in."
———————
You stood in the back garden, the scent of roses mixing with salt spray. Overlooking the sea, you were perched at the edge of the cliff, watching the water smash against the unmoving rocks.
You had endured as much as you possibly could. You watched them dance together, sweeping across the marble floors in perfect harmony. The first time, you'd admit it was beautiful. The second, you were clutching your drink a little tighter. The third dance had you finding solace on the balcony halfway through, picking idly at the rose petals that climbed up the trellis in thorny vines.
It was the speech that made you reach your tipping point.
Guilt swamped you – this was Chris' big moment, and you were guilty that you weren't there to celebrate it with him. As a friend does. As a friend should.
But it was so difficult, seeing him up there, with her by his side. She held herself perfectly, back straight, chin tilted, poised – regal.
Your suspicions were confirmed: Lily was perfectly suited to this world. To this life. She fit in.
And she was funny – interjecting lighthearted commentary into Chris' speech with witty remarks that didn't interrupt him nor detract from the sincerity of his words in the slightest, but sent light bubbling laughter scattering across the crowd, warming them to her presence. And after every comment like that, he would look at her with the softest of smiles, adoration etched on his face. And there were a lot of comments.
They were so perfectly charming together. You had to leave.
Your departure wasn't noticed, and your presence wasn't missed.
You had stopped a passing waiter for a glass of champagne, and made your way back to the balcony. It was there that you noticed the cliff edge, moonlight glinting off the ink spill sea.
Making your way down marble steps, the clicking of your heels signifying your descent, you found solace in the silence the grass granted your footsteps.
The hem of your long skirts dragged across the dew ridden grass, and for a moment, you could imagine that you, yourself, were a princess.
A princess without a prince.
You had no intention of doing anything rash. You just wanted to watch the waves.
And so you did, the repetitive crush of water against stone lulling you into a hypnotic state. It was calming – seeing something so constant in these turbulent times.
But as you so feared, time alone meant time to think. And the past week crashed on you, simultaneous with the dreadful depths below.
All the emotions that had been lurking, had been building up – all the emotions that you hadn't allowed yourself to feel; resentment, pain, jealousy, and above it all, heartaching love – began to bubble up in your throat, and from inside you could hear the beginning scatter of applause, and as it crescendoed into a thunder you let loose a gutwrenching scream.
You would have no indication of how far it would travel, that mournful wail of yours.
But you screamed, and screamed, your voice hoarse.
You screamed until you felt tears in your eyes.
You heard, faintly, a glass shatter, and you felt a sharp sting that almost immediately numbed itself, and still you screamed, until your throat was raw, and you could taste blood on your tongue.
Exhausted, you dropped to your knees. And still, inside, the applause continued, unconcerned with your traumas.
Breathing heavily, you came back to yourself. And when you did, pain flooded you.
Not emotional, no, that had already been carried away on the night air – leaving you numb in your bones.
But a searing, stinging pain in your hand.
In the darkness of the night, the blood looked black, rivalling the black sea. You had broken the glass in your hand with the fury of your cry, and when you turned to inspect it, little shards of glass were still seen to be peering through before being consumed by the champagne mixed gore.
"FUCK!" The word was drawn out in a wrenching croaked sob, and you held your hand before you, ripped out of your complacency with sheer agony.
You don't know how long you sat there, just staring at your hand, watching the blood trickle. All you knew was that you were shivering by the time Scarlett found you, crimson staining your dress – turning the violet to black. The smell of metal was heavy on the air, mingled with champagne and sea.
"{Your name?}" Scarlett called to you. Her muted steps were signalled by the rustling of grass as she drew closer. "{Your name}, are you..."
And then she saw your face. And then your hand. And she was sprinting to you, panic in her eyes, careless of her heels.
"Jesus fucking Christ, {your name}, are you okay? Holy shit, fuck, hold on, let's just get you–ANTHONY!"
She had landed on her knees beside you, cradling your hand as a slew of profanities left her lips before ultimately calling for assistance.
Anthony came running. "What? What is it?!" A sharp intake of breath. "What the fuck happened?"
You barely registered Anthony's suit jacket being wrapped around your shoulders. The shock had rendered you catatonic. "It was an accident," you said dumbly.
"Help me get her up, we need to get her some medical attention."
Scarlett did as instructed, their otherwise warm hands perceiving to your icy skin as scorching. When you stood, you noticed your knees were soaked through from dew, mud clinging to the now ruined dress. You felt sorrow, but that was quickly consumed by vacancy. You weren't sure what you preferred – feeling everything or nothing at all.
Anthony had his arm around your shoulder, Scarlett holding you up by the elbow of the arm that was uninjured as they guided you back inside, careful with their steps. It was a snail's pace, your legs barely working and them having to compensate for it.
"What happened?" The question on everyone's minds left Sebastian's lips.
"We don't know, we just found her like this," Anthony said. So often quick with a joke and smile, Anthony was grave in his delivery now. "Take her to a hospital, get her hand fixed up, get her home."
Sebastian nodded, sliding Anthony's blazer off of you to return it to its owner before replacing it with his own. He took you under his arm in a protective embrace. You were keeping to the edges of the party, not wanting to draw any attention. You kept your head ducked, just watching more and more blood pool in your cupped hand, watching, waiting for it to overflow, fascinated by it.
The commotion that began at your slow departure drew you out of your reverie.
Chris – having seen his friends clustered together, air clouding them tense – was stalking to where you all stood.
"What happened?" You heard again, and unfortunately not for the last time. The doctor would ask the same question a little later. "Fuck, {your name}. Let me take you home."
The way your shoulders stiffened was not lost on Anthony.
"I think you've done enough," he said coolly, holding up a hand to halt Chris' advances. "Sebastian is going to take her home, come talk to me when you've figured things out."
Chris was dumbstruck by the sudden change in demeanor. "Anthony–"
"No!" He snapped. "Tonight isn't about you. The Chris I know would've respected that."
"Not here," a strong voice interjected. You all turned to see Lily approaching the small circle that had formed around the unravelling drama. Guilt was thick in your throat. Tonight was in celebration of a fundraiser for children, and you'd single handedly ruined it. "Not tonight. Not here, not now."
She strode over to you, separating Anthony and Chris in the process. They still stared each other down.
She took a hold of your hand, surprisingly tender in direct opposition to the subdued fury in her voice. Concern overtook her as she addressed Sebastian. "You get her to a doctor, and you make sure she gets home safe."
And with one scathing gaze to the guests, the crowd dissipated.
"Lily–" Chris started, but was cut off when that same scathing look was turned on him.
"I don't know what's happening here, but fix it. Anthony is one of your best friends. So is {your name}. Remember that."
At her departure, Anthony summoned Chris outside onto the balcony to continue the conversation privately.
"I know how much she means to you, Chris. And I know I make my jokes, have my fun. You know what I think, I've never once tried to hide it. But you need to let her go. You can't have both."
And then Chris Evans – forever stoic – crumbled. His body wracked with sobs and tears fell freely down his face. Anthony pulled Chris to him, allowing his friend to cry into his shoulder. It was a hard thing to watch – a strong man falling apart.
"It just hurts so much," he garbled out, muffled by Anthony's dress shirt.
"I know it does."
A moment passed as Chris dissolved. Then, resolutely, he straightened.
"You're right," Chris breathed in deeply, gathering himself. "It's not about me."
He withdrew from Anthony, wiping the tears away quickly with his palm. And like a storm, the calm that settled was instantaneous. You would've never even known he had broken if not for the red rimming his eyes.
"Here's some great advice from a great man I once knew: you might have one thing in your head, but the things you're doing don't lead you down that road, necessarily. When you're young, you don't want to hear that. You think you can do everything, be all things."
It was cryptic, but the meaning was clear. Chris would have to choose. He couldn't be with Lily and keep you around. Not because he knew how you felt – he certainly didn't – but because of the way he did. You'd been an expert at masking your emotions, so much so that you'd shattered like that champagne flute, so desperately wanting him to be happy in spite of his choice.
"Who said that?" Chris asked, smiling mournfully. He already knew. "Shakespeare?"
"No. A much greater man. I like to keep him close when I can."
———————
"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Sebastian finally said. The drive to the hospital was done in sombre silence, and, when you'd returned to his side in the waiting room, he had merely taken you under his arm again to guide you to the car. "But just know that I'm here to talk. If you want to."
"It was an accident," you said simply. And it was. Of that, you were certain. You had just gotten carried away with your release, and unfortunately, the glass was a casualty.
You watched as the lights flew past the window against which your head leaned. Sebastian didn't speak again until you were pulling up the long driveway of Chris' house. Forever Chris' house, never quite yours.
"Okay."
And that was the end of the conversation.
When you entered, Dodger immediately sensed the mood. He pushed his head into your hand, whining softly. His large, brown eyes even asked it. "What happened?"
"Hey, Dodge," you croaked. You wouldn't be surprised if your voice was gone by morning.
Sebastian helped you remove your dress, and turned his back to you while you dressed. You harshly tugged the makeup from your face single handedly with a wipe, your other hand secured in a bandage.
It wasn't until Sebastian had tucked you into bed that you asked him to stay.
You sounded so small, so childlike just then. He stared at you for the longest time, hovering between rejection and acceptance. There must've been something in your expression, a small plea reaching out for him, and he softened, a tender smile on his face.
He was reluctant, you knew that. But you selfishly didn't want to be alone, and he was there.
He kicked his shoes off, removing his tie before sliding into bed beside you.
"Tell me a story."
"I don't know many stories. I know some in Romanian from my childhood, but–"
"Tell me those."
So he did. You didn't understand a single word, but that was fine. You drifted off to sleep, Sebastian's melodic tale guiding you to rest.
And when Chris returned home later that night, he came to check on you – only to find you sleeping peacefully beside another man.
He knew then that he didn't need to make a choice; you'd already made it for him.
#dina writes#chris evans/you#chris evans fanfic#chris evans x you#chris evans#chris evans x reader#chris evans angst#ocean eyes#anthony mackie#sebastian stan#scarlett johansson
134 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 6
Hey, Dad. I caught you.” I adjusted my grip on the phone receiver and pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar. I missed my father. For the last four years we’d lived close enough to see each other at least once a week. Now his home in Oceanside was the entire country away. “How are you?”
He lowered the volume on the television. “Better, now that you’ve called. How was your first week at work?”
I went over my days from Monday through Friday, skipping over all the Lauren parts. “I really like my boss, Mark,” I finished. “And the vibe of the agency is very energetic and kind of quirky. I’m happy going to work every day, and I’m bummed when it’s time to go home.”
“I hope it stays that way. But you need to make sure you have some downtime, too. Go out, be young, have fun. But not too much fun.”
“Yeah, I had a little too much last night. Cary and I went clubbing, and I woke up with a mean hangover.”
“Shit, don’t tell me that.” He groaned. “Some nights I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about you in New York. I get through it by telling myself you’re too smart to take chances, thanks to two parents who’ve drilled safety rules into your DNA.”
“Which is true,” I said, laughing. “That reminds me…I’m going to start Krav Maga training.”
“Really?” There was a thoughtful pause. “One of the guys on the force is big on it. Maybe I’ll check it out and we can compare notes when I come out to visit you.”
“You’re coming to New York?” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Oh, Dad, I’d love it if you would. As much as I miss SoCal, Manhattan is really awesome. I think you’ll like it.”
“I’d like anyplace in the world as long as you’re there.” He waited a beat, then asked, “How’s your mom?”
“Well…she’s Mom. Beautiful, charming, and obsessive-compulsive.”
My chest hurt and I rubbed at it. I thought my dad might still love my mom. He’d never married. That was one of the reasons I never told him about what happened to me. As a cop, he would’ve insisted on pressing charges and the scandal would have destroyed my mother. I also worried that he’d lose respect for her or even blame her, and it hadn’t been her fault. As soon as she’d found out what her stepson was doing to me, she’d left a husband she was happy with and filed for divorce.
I kept talking, waving at Cary as he came rushing in with a little blue Tiffany & Co. bag. “We had a spa day today. It was a fun way to cap off the week.”
I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’m glad you two are managing to spend time together. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?”
I hedged on the subject of the charity event, knowing the whole red carpet business and astronomically-priced dinner seats would just highlight the gap between my parents’ lives. “Cary and I are going out to eat, and then I plan on staying in tomorrow. Sleeping in late, hanging out in my pajamas all day, maybe some movies and food delivery of some sort. A little vegetating before a new work week kicks off.”
“Sounds like heaven to me. I may copy you when my next day off rolls around.”
Glancing at the clock, I saw it was creeping past six. “I have to get ready now. Be careful at work, okay? I worry about you, too.”
“Will do. Bye, baby.”
The familiar sign-off had me missing him so much my throat hurt. “Oh, wait! I’m getting a new cell phone. I’ll text you the number as soon as I have it.”
“Again? You just got a new one when you moved.”
“Long, boring story.”
“Hmm…Don’t put it off. They’re good for safety as well as playing Angry Birds.”
“I’m over that game!” I laughed and warmth spread through me to hear him laughing, too. “I’ll call you in a few days. Be good.”
“That’s my line.”
We hung up. I sat for a few moments in the ensuing silence, feeling like everything was right in my world, which never lasted long. I brooded on that for minute; then Cary cranked up Hinder on his bedroom stereo and that kicked my butt into gear.
I hurried to my room to get ready for a night with Lauren.
“Necklace or no necklace?” I asked Cary, when he came into my bedroom looking seriously amazing. Dressed in his new Brioni tux, he was both debonair and dashing, and certain to attract attention.
“Hmm.” His head tilted to the side as he studied me. “Hold it up again.”
I lifted the choker of gold coins to my throat. The dress my mom had sent was fire engine red and styled for a Grecian goddess. It hung on one shoulder, cut diagonally across my cleavage, had ruching to the hip, and then split at my right upper thigh all the way down my leg. There was no back to speak of, aside from a slender strip of rhinestones that connected one side to the other to keep the front from falling off. Otherwise, the back was bared to just above the crack of my buttocks in a racy V-cut.
“Forget the necklace,” he said. “I was leaning toward gold chandeliers, but now I’m thinking diamond hoops. The biggest ones you’ve got.”
“What? Really?” I frowned at our reflections in my cheval mirror, watching as he moved to my jewelry box and dug through it.
“These.” He brought them to me and I eyed the two-inch hoops my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. “Trust me, Camila. Try ’em on.”
I did and found he was right. It was a very different look from the gold choker, less glam and more edgy sensuality. And the earrings went well with the diamond anklet on my right leg that I’d never think of the same way again after Lauren’s comment. With my hair swept off my face into a cascade of thick, deliberately messy curls, I had a just-screwed look that was complemented by smoky eye shadow and glossy nude lips.
“What would I do without you, Cary Taylor?”
“Baby girl”—he set his hands on my shoulders and pressed his cheek to mine—“you’ll never find out.”
“You look awesome, by the way.”
“Don’t I?” He winked and stepped back, showing off.
In his own way, Cary could give Lauren a run for her money…er, looks. Cary was more finely featured, almost pretty compared to Lauren’s savage beauty, but both were striking people that made you look twice, and then stare in greedy delight.
Cary hadn’t been quite so perfect when I met him. He’d been strung out and gaunt, his emerald eyes cloudy and lost. But I’d been drawn to him, going out of my way to sit next to him in group therapy. He’d finally propositioned me crudely, having come to believe the only reason people associated with him was because they wanted to fuck him. It was when I declined, firmly and irrevocably, that we finally connected and became best friends. He was the brother I’d never had.
The intercom buzzed and I jumped, making me realize how nervous I was. I looked at Cary. “I forgot to tell the front desk she was coming back.”
“I’ll get her.”
“Are you going to be okay riding over with Stanton and my mom?”
“Are you kidding? They love me.” His smile dimmed. “Having second thoughts about going with Jauregui?”
I took a deep breath, remembering where I’d been earlier—on my back in a multi-orgasmic daze. “Not really, no. It’s just that everything’s happening so fast and going better than I expected or realized I wanted…”
“You’re wondering what the catch is.” Reaching out, he tapped my nose with his fingertip. “she’s the catch, Camila. And you landed her. Enjoy yourself.”
“I’m trying.” I was grateful that Cary understood me and the way my mind worked. It was just so easy being with him, knowing he could fill in the blanks when I couldn’t explain something.
“I researched the hell out of her this morning and printed out the interesting recent stuff. It’s on your desk, if you decide you want to check it out.”
I remembered him printing something before we got ready for the spa. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.”
“Back atcha, baby girl.” He headed out. “I’ll head down to the front desk and bring her up. Take your time. she’s ten minutes early.”
Smiling, I watched him saunter into the hallway. The door had closed behind him when I moved into the small sitting room attached to my bedroom. On the very impractical escritoire my mother had picked out, I found a folder filled with articles and printed images. I settled into the chair and got lost in Lauren Jauregui's history.
It was like watching a train wreck to read that she was the Daughter of Geoffrey Jauregui, former chairman of an investment securities firm later found to be a front for a massive Ponzi scheme. Lauren was just five years old when her dad committed suicide with a gunshot to the head rather than face prison time.
Oh, Lauren. I tried to picture her that young and imagined a handsome dark-haired girl with beautiful green eyes filled with terrible confusion and sadness. The image broke my heart. How devastating her father’s suicide—and the circumstances around it—must have been, for both her and her mother. The stress and strain at such a difficult time would’ve been enormous, especially for a child of that age.
Her mother went on to marry Christopher Vidal, a music executive, and had two more children, Christopher Vidal Jr. and Ireland Vidal, but it seemed a larger family and financial security had come too late to help Lauren stabilize after such a huge shakeup. she was too closed off not to bear some painful emotional scars.
With a critical and curious eye, I studied the women who’d been photographed with Lauren and thought about her approach to dating, socializing, and sex. I saw that my mom had been right—they were all blondes. The woman who appeared with her most often bore the hallmarks of a KaKasian heritage. she was taller than me, willowy rather than curvy.
“Magdalene Perez,” I murmured, grudgingly admitting that she was a stunner. Her posture had the kind of flamboyant confidence that I admired.
“Okay, it’s been long enough,” Cary interrupted with a soft note of amusement. He filled the doorway to my sitting room, leaning insolently into the doorjamb.
“Really?” I’d been so absorbed; I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.
“I would guess you’re about a minute away from her coming to find you. she’s barely restraining herself.”
I shut the folder and stood.
“Interesting reading, isn’t it?”
“Very.” How had lauren’s father—or more specifically, her father’s suicide—influenced her life?
I knew all the answers I wanted were waiting for me in the next room.
Leaving my bedroom, I took the hallway to the living room. I paused on the threshold, my gaze riveted to lauren’s back as she stood in front of the windows and looked out at the city. My heart rate kicked up. Her reflection revealed a contemplative mood. Her gaze was unfocused and her mouth grim. Her crossed arms betrayed an inherent unease, as if she was out of her element. she looked remote and removed, a woman who was inherently alone.
she sensed my presence or maybe he felt my yearning. she pivoted; then went very still. I took the opportunity to drink her in, my gaze sliding all over her. she looked every inch the powerful magnate. So sensually handsome my eyes burned just from looking at her. The rakish fall of black hair around her face made my fingers flex with the urge to touch it. And the way she looked at me…my pulse leaped.
“Camila.” she came toward me, her stride graceful and strong. she caught up my hand and lifted it to her mouth. Her gaze was intense—intensely hot, intensely focused.
The feel of her lips against my skin sent goose bumps racing up my arm and stirred memories of that sinful mouth on other parts of my body. I was instantly aroused. “Hi.”
Amusement warmed her eyes. “Hi, yourself. You look amazing. I can’t wait to show you off.”
I breathed through the delight I felt at the compliment. “Let’s hope I can do you justice.”
A slight frown knit the space between her brows. “Do you have everything you need?”
Cary appeared beside me, carrying my black velvet shawl and opera length gloves. “Here you go. I tucked your gloss into your clutch.”
“You’re the best, Cary.”
He winked at me—which told me he’d seen the condoms I had tucked into the small interior pocket. “I’ll head down with you two.”
Lauren took the shawl from Cary and draped it over my shoulders. she pulled my hair out from underneath it and the feel of her hands at my neck so distracted me, I barely paid attention when Cary pushed my gloves into my hands.
The elevator ride to the lobby was an exercise in surviving acute sexual tension. Not that Cary seemed to notice. He was on my left with both hands in his pockets, whistling. Lauren, on the other hand, was a tremendous force on the other side of me. Although ahe didn’t move or make a sound, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from her. My skin tingled from the magnetic pull between us, and my breath came short and fast. I was relieved when the doors opened and freed us from the enclosed space.
Two women stood waiting to get on. Their jaws dropped when they saw Lauren and Cary, and that lightened my mood and made me smile.
“Ladies,” Cary greeted them, with a smile that really wasn’t fair. I could almost see their brain cells misfiring.
In contrast, Lauren gave a curt nod and led me out with a hand at the small of my back, skin to skin. The contact was electric, sending heat pouring through me.
I squeezed Cary’s hand. “Save a dance for me.”
“Always. See you in a bit.”
A limousine was waiting at the curb, and the driver opened the door when Lauren and I stepped outside. I slid across the bench seat to the opposite side and adjusted my gown. When Lauren settled beside me and the door shut, I became highly conscious of how good she smelled. I breathed her in, telling myself to relax and enjoy her company. she took my hand and ran her fingertips over the palm, the simple touch sparking a fierce lust. I shrugged off my shawl, feeling too hot to wear it.
“Camila.” she hit a button and the privacy glass behind the driver began to slide up. The next moment I was tugged across her lap and her mouth was on mine, kissing me fiercely.
I did what I’d wanted to do since I saw hee in my living room: I shoved my hands in her hair and kissed her back. I loved the way she kissed me, as if she had to, as if she’d go crazy if she didn’t and had nearly waited too long. I sucked on her tongue, having learned how much she liked it, having learned how much I liked it, how much it made me want to suck her elsewhere with the same eagerness.
Her hands were sliding over my bare back and I moaned, feeling the prod of her erection against my hip. I shifted, moving to straddle her, shoving the skirt of my gown out of the way and making a mental note to thank my mom for the dress—which had such a convenient slit. With my knees on either side of her hips, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and deepened the kiss. I licked into her mouth, nibbled on her lower lip, stroked my tongue along her…
Lauren gripped my waist and pushed me away. she leaned into the seat back, her neck arched to look up at my face, her chest heaving. “What are you doing to me?”
I ran my hands down her chest through her dress shirt, feeling the unforgiving hardness of her muscles. My fingers traced the ridges of her abdomen, my mind forming a picture of how she might look naked. “I’m touching you. Enjoying the hell out of you. I want you, Lauren.”
she caught my wrists, stilling my movements. “Later. We’re in the middle of Manhattan.”
“No one can see us.”
“That’s not the point. It’s not the time or place to start something we can’t finish for hours. I’m losing my mind already from this afternoon.”
“So let’s make sure we finish it now.”
Her grip tightened painfully. “We can’t do that here.”
“Why not?” Then a surprising thought struck me. “Haven’t you ever had sex in a limo?”
“No.” Her jaw hardened. “Have you?”
Looking away without answering, I saw the traffic and pedestrians surging around us. We were only inches away from hundreds of people, but the dark glass concealed us and made me feel reckless. I wanted to please her. I wanted to know I was capable of reaching into Lauren Jauregui, and there was nothing to stop me but her.
I rocked my hips against her, stroking myself with the hard length of her cock. Her breath hissed out between clenched teeth.
“I need you, Lauren,” I said breathlessly, inhaling her scent, which was richer now that she was aroused. I thought I might be slightly intoxicated, just from the enticing smell of her skin. “You drive me crazy.”
she released my wrists and cupped my face, her lips pressing hard against mine. I reached for the fly of her slacks, freeing the two buttons to access the concealed zipper. she tensed.
“I need this,” I whispered against her lips. “Give me this.”
she didn’t relax, but she made no further attempts to stop me either. When she fell heavily into my palms, she groaned, the sound both pained and erotic. I squeezed her gently, my touch deliberately tender as I sized her with my hands. she was so hard, like stone, and hot. I slid both of my fists up her length from root to tip, my breath catching when she quivered beneath me.
Lauren gripped my thighs, her hands sliding upward beneath the edges of my dress until her thumbs found the red lace of my thong. “Your cunt is so sweet,” she murmured into my mouth. “I want to spread you out and lick you ’til you beg for my cock.”
“I’ll beg now, if you want.” I stroked her with one hand and reached for my clutch with the other, snapping it open to grab a condom.
One of her thumbs slid beneath the edge of my panties, the pad sliding through the slickness of my desire. “I’ve barely touched you,” she whispered, her eyes glittering up at me in the shadows of the backseat, “and you’re ready for me.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I don’t want you to help it.” she pushed her thumb inside me, biting her lower lip when I clenched helplessly around her. “It wouldn’t be fair when I can’t stop what you do to me.”
I ripped the foil packet open with my teeth and held it out to her with the ring of the condom protruding from the tear. “I’m not good with these.”
Her hand curled around mine. “I’m breaking all my rules with you.”
The seriousness of her low tone sent a burst of warmth and confidence through me. “Rules are made to be broken.”
I saw her teeth flash white; then she hit a button on the panel beside him and said, “Drive until I say otherwise.”
My cheeks heated. Another car’s headlights pierced the dark tinted glass and slid over my face, betraying my embarrassment.
“Why, Camila,” she purred, rolling the condom on deftly. “You’ve seduced me into having sex in my limousine, but blush when I tell my driver I don’t want to be interrupted while you do it to me?”
Her sudden playfulness made me desperate to have her. Setting my hands on her shoulders for balance, I lifted onto my knees, rising to gain the height I needed to hover over the crown of Laurens thick cock. Her hands fisted at my hips and I heard a snap as she tore my panties away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred my desire to a fever pitch.
“Go slow,” she ordered hoarsely, lifting her hips to push her pants down farther.
Her erection brushed between my legs as she moved and I whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms she’d given me earlier had only deepened my craving rather than appeased it.
she tensed when I wrapped my fingers around her and positioned her, tucking the wide crest against the saturated folds of my cleft. The scent of our lust was heavy and humid in the air, a seductive mix of need and pheromones that awakened every cell in my body. My skin was flushed and tingling, my breasts heavy and tender.
This is what I’d wanted from the moment I first saw her—to possess her, to climb up her magnificent body and take her deep inside me.
“God. Camila,” she gasped as I lowered onto her, her hands flexing restlessly on my thighs.
I closed my eyes, feeling too exposed. I’d wanted intimacy with her and yet this seemed too intimate. We were eye-to-eye, only inches apart, cocooned in a small space with the rest of the world streaming by around us. I could sense his agitation, knew she was feeling as off-center as I was.
“You’re so tight.” Her gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious agony.
I took more of her, letting her slide deeper. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling exquisitely stretched. “You’re so big.”
Pressing her palm flat to my lower belly, she touched my throbbing clit with the pad of her thumb and began to massage it in slow, expertly soft circles. Everything in my core tightened and clenched, sucking her deeper. Opening my eyes, I looked at her from under heavy eyelids. she was so beautiful sprawled beneath me in her elegant tuxedo, her powerful body straining with the primal need to mate.
Her neck arched, her head pressing hard into the seatback as if she was struggling against invisible bonds. “Ah, Christ,” she bit out, her teeth grinding. “I’m going to come so hard.”
The dark promise excited me. Sweat misted my skin. I became so wet and hot that I slid smoothly down the length of her cock until I’d nearly sheathed her. A breathless cry escaped me before I’d taken her to the root. she was so deep I could hardly stand it, forcing me to shift from side to side, trying to ease the unexpected bite of discomfort. But my body didn’t seem to care that she was too big. It was rippling around her, squeezing, trembling on the verge of orgasm.
Lauren cursed and gripped my hip with her free hand, urging me to lean backward as her chest heaved with frantic breaths. The position altered my descent and I opened, accepting all of her. Immediately her body temperature rose, her torso radiating sultry heat through her clothes. Sweat dotted her upper lip.
Leaning forward, I slid my tongue along the sculpted curve, collecting the saltiness with a low murmur of delight. Her hips churned impatiently. I lifted carefully, sliding up a few inches before she stopped me with that ferocious grasp on my hip.
“Slow,” she warned again, with an authoritative bite that sent lust pulsing through me.
I lowered, taking her into me again, feeling an oddly luscious soreness as she pushed just past my limits. Our eyes locked on each other as the pleasure spread from the place where we connected. It struck me then that we were both fully clothed except for the most private and intimate parts of our bodies. I found that excruciatingly carnal, as were the sounds she made, as if the pleasure was as extreme for her as it was for me.
Wild for her, I pressed my mouth to her, my fingers gripping the sweat-damp roots of her hair. I kissed her as I rocked my hips, riding the maddening circling of her thumb, feeling the orgasm building with every slide of her long, thick penis into my melting core.
I lost my mind somewhere along the way, primitive instinct taking over until my body was completely in charge. I could focus on nothing but the driving urge to fuck, the ferocious need to ride her cock until the tension burst and set me free of this grinding hunger.
“It’s so good,” I sobbed, lost to her. “You feel…Ah, God, it’s too good.”
Using both hands, Lauren commanded my rhythm, tilting me into an angle that had the big crown of her cock rubbing a tender, aching spot inside me. As I tightened and shook, I realized I was going to come from that, just from the expert thrust of her inside me. “Lauren.”
she captured me by the nape as the orgasm exploded through me, starting with the ecstatic spasms of my core and radiating outward until I was trembling all over. she watched me fall apart, holding my gaze when I would’ve closed my eyes. Possessed by her stare, I moaned and came harder than I ever had, my body jerking with every pulse of pleasure.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she growled, pounding her hips up at me, yanking my hips down to meet her punishing lunges. she hit the end of me with every deep thrust, battering into me. I could feel her growing harder and thicker.
I watched her avidly, needing to see it when she went over the edge for me. Her eyes were wild with her need, losing their focus as her control frayed, her gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax.
“Camila!” she came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted me with its ferocity. she shook as the orgasm tore into her, her features softening for an instant with an unexpected vulnerability.
Cupping her face, I brushed my lips across her, comforting her as the forceful bursts of her gasping breaths struck my cheeks.
“Camila.” she wrapped her arms around me and crushed me to her, pressing her damp face into the curve of my neck.
I knew just how she felt. Stripped. Laid bare.
We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, absorbing the aftershocks. she turned her head and kissed me softly, the strokes of her tongue into my mouth soothing my ragged emotions.
“Wow,” I breathed, shaken.
Her mouth twitched. “Yeah.”
I smiled, feeling dazed and high.
Lauren brushed the damp tendrils of hair off my temples, her fingertips gliding almost reverently across my face. The way she studied me made my chest hurt. she looked stunned and…grateful, her eyes warm and tender. “I don’t want to break this moment.”
Because I could hear it hanging in the air, I filled it in. “But…?”
“But I can’t blow off this dinner. I have a speech to give.”
“Oh.” The moment was effectively broken.
I lifted gingerly off of her, biting my lip at the feel of her slipping wetly out of me. The friction was enough to make me want more. she’d barely softened.
“Damn it,” she said roughly. “I want you again.”
she caught me before I moved away, pulling a handkerchief out from somewhere and running it gently between my legs. It was a deeply intimate act, on par with the sex we’d just had.
When I was dry, I settled on the seat beside her and dug my lip gloss out of my clutch. I watched Lauren over the edge of my mirrored compact as she removed the condom and tied it off. she wrapped it in a cocktail napkin; then tossed it in a cleverly hidden trash receptacle. After restoring her appearance, she told the driver to head to our destination. Then she settled into the seat and stared out the window.
With every second that passed, I felt her withdrawing, the connection between us slipping further and further away. I found myself shrinking into the corner of the seat, away from her, mimicking the distance I felt building between us. All the warmth I’d felt receded into a marked chill, cooling me enough that I pulled my shawl around me again. she didn’t move a muscle as I shifted beside her and put my compact away, as if she wasn’t even aware I was there.
Abruptly, Lauren opened the bar and pulled out a bottle. Without looking at me, she asked, “Brandy?”
“No, thank you.” My voice was small, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. she poured a drink and tossed it back.
Confused and stung, I pulled on my gloves and tried to figure out what went wrong.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
How Princess Anne became the shining light of the beleaguered monarchy
Once seen as haughty and aloof, today her old-school approach has never been more in demand
By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor of the Telegraph.
Visitors to the Princess Royal’s house, Gatcombe Park, are often surprised to be greeted with antique-display cases groaning with ornaments, bookshelves overflowing with hardbacks and piles of magazines dating back to the 1970s. According to one friend, the 18th-century Grade II-listed Gloucestershire stately has a ‘homely’ feel, thanks to the frugal Princess’s reluctance to throw anything out.
‘It’s quite a nice thing really,’ they said. ‘There’s barely a place you can sit down in her house. Every time the staff go in there they try to take something away.’ A surprising revelation, perhaps, about the Royal family’s resident stickler, whose decadesold ‘updo’ and penchant for wearing white gloves on royal engagements suggest a somewhat starchier outlook. But as the Queen’s only daughter prepares to celebrate her 70th birthday this month, it seems that appearances can be rather deceiving.
Now more valuable than ever to an institution not only trying to reposition itself in the wake of a global pandemic, but still smarting from the fallout of Megxit and the Duke of York’s association with Jeffrey Epstein, Anne’s old-school approach has never been more in demand. Despite describing herself as ‘the boring old fuddy-duddy at the back’, who keeps reminding the younger royals not to forgo ‘the basics’, the Princess Royal, who has always put duty first, is finally getting the recognition she deserves.
Her appearance in June alongside the 94-year-old monarch for Her Majesty’s first ever video call shows how much the Queen is coming to rely on the Princess. And the public response to her appearing to snub Donald Trump during a Nato leaders’ reception at Buckingham Palace last December suggests the nation is finally warming to her modus operandi.
Where once Anne was regarded as haughty and standoffish, she is now hailed as one of the great English eccentrics whose unparalleled royal work ethic, carrying out more than 500 engagements a year, has rightly earned her national treasure status.
And having allowed a film crew to shadow her for the past year, the Princess, who is usually reluctant to blow her own trumpet, has never appeared more at ease with herself. She was persuaded to take part in last week’s ITV documentary Princess Royal: Anne at 70 because its makers, Oxford Films, had successfully produced Our Queen and Our Queen at 90 about her mother. Shadowing Anne on her dusk-to-dawn engagements – and featuring interviews with her children Peter, 42, and Zara, 39 – the documentary revealed just how much the Princess is cut from the Queen’s ‘keep calm and carry on’ cloth.
Having been regarded as a bit of a royal renegade as a teenager – and chosen to forgo titles for her own children, despite her own HRH pedigree as a ‘spare to the heir’ – Anne’s life story is a contradiction of both protocol taskmaster and occasional rule-breaker. As one insider who knows the Princess well put it: ‘She can turn from laughing and joking one minute to being an absolute stickler for the rules the next. She’s extremely dutiful and would hate to be regarded as being on the wrong side of protocol. You’d never dream of asking her a political question and she’s not at all gossipy.’
Erin Doherty’s portrayal of Anne in The Crown, as the deadpan princess with the permanently raised eyebrow, certainly sums up her teenage years when the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh were apparently so concerned about their daughter’s lack of direction, they asked the late Dame Vera Lynn for advice. Prince Philip, who famously joked of his daughter, ‘If it doesn’t fart or eat hay then she isn’t interested,’ allegedly confided in the Forces’ sweetheart: ‘We are concerned about Anne at the moment, trying to get her to make up her mind about what she wants to do.’
According to her school friend, Sandra de Laszlo, who boarded with Anne at Benenden: ‘She was a very normal teenager – sensible and fun.’ Leaving school with six O levels and two A levels in 1968, Anne had already resolved to follow in her parents’ duteous footsteps. Less than a year later, she made her official debut on 1 March – St David’s Day – when she handed out leeks to the Welsh Guards at Pirbright Camp in Surrey. It was to be the start of one of the most industrious royal careers in modern memory – with more than 20,000 engagements clocked up since.
Soon after she started work, she began dating – and in 1970, Anne’s first boyfriend was Andrew Parker Bowles, the dashing young adjutant of the Blues and Royals, who went on to marry Camilla Shand – later to become her sister-in-law, the Duchess of Cornwall. The Princess and the brigadier – described as her ‘horsey husband’ – remain close and accompany each other to Royal Ascot and other race meetings every year.
Anne is also on good terms with her first husband, Captain Mark Phillips. A Sandhurst graduate with an equestrian streak, like Parker Bowles, Phillips met the Princess at a party for horse lovers in 1968 and reconnected at the Munich Olympics four years later, when he won team Olympic gold in the three-day eventing. They married in 1973. He was at the then 23-year-old Anne’s side a year later when she was threatened at gunpoint in an attempted kidnapping. The couple were returning to Buckingham Palace following a charity event when their limousine was forced to stop on the Mall by another car. When the driver, Ian Ball, jumped out and began shooting, Anne’s bodyguard, Inspector James Beaton, was injured, along with her chauffeur Alex Callender, and journalist Brian McConnell and Michael Hills, a police constable, who happened upon the scene.
But the attempt to hold Anne to ransom for at least £2 million is even more memorable thanks to the impervious Princess’s refusal to obey Ball’s order to get out of the car, replying with a trademark: ‘Not bloody likely!’ Eventually, she exited the other side of the limousine, as had her lady-in-waiting, Rowena Brassey (who is still with her to this day). A passing pedestrian, a former boxer named Ron Russell, punched Ball in the back of the head and led Anne away from the scene. Anne later told officers: ‘It was all so infuriating; I kept saying I didn’t want to get out of the car, and I was not going to get out of the car,’ according to files later released by the National Archives. ‘I nearly lost my temper with him, but I knew that if I did, I should hit him and he would shoot me.’
She was similarly sanguine about becoming the first member of the Royal family to have a criminal conviction after one of her dogs, a three-year-old English bull terrier called Dotty, attacked two children in Windsor Great Park in 2002. Pleading guilty to being in charge of a dog that was out of control in a public area, she insisted on no special treatment and took the £500 fine and £500 compensation on the chin.
The incident followed a number of brushes with the law for motoring offences, with Anne having twice been caught speeding on the M1 in the 1970s. She was also fined £100 and banned for one month in 1990 for two speeding offences and fined another £400 in 2000. On both occasions she pleaded guilty immediately, insisting she was late for an engagement.
As she said in the documentary, mistakes do happen when there is no ‘training’ for the job of being royal. ‘It’s just learning by experience. But hardly ever does anything go quite according to plan. You have to learn that.’ It wasn’t as if she didn’t feel the pressure of being the sovereign’s second-born, either – once describing the fly-on-the-wall Royal Family film, which followed the Windsors for a year in the late 1960s, as ‘a rotten idea’.
‘The attention that had been brought on one ever since one was a child, you just didn’t want any more. The last thing you needed was greater access.’
Famed for telling reporters to ‘naff orf ’, much of Anne’s mistrust of the media appears to stem from its rather uncomfortable coverage of Phillips fathering a love child, Felicity, with New Zealand art teacher Heather Tonkin in 1985. The Princess didn’t emerge unblemished either, having been revealed by The Sun to have received love letters from Tim Laurence, then the Queen’s equerry, in 1989, when she was separated – although still married to Phillips.
Anne and Mark finally divorced in 1992 and the Princess remarried eight months later, choosing Crathie Kirk in Scotland, as the Church of England did not at that time allow divorced persons whose former spouses were still living to remarry in its churches. The Prince of Wales had nicknamed Phillips ‘Fog’ on the grounds that he was ‘thick and wet’; but with his Royal Navy pedigree and impeccable manners, ‘quiet man’ Laurence fitted into the Royal family perfectly. One friend described the vice admiral as ‘a thoroughly decent man who never forgets a face’, before adding that ‘some may regard him as a little bit boring, but he’s a much safer bet than Mark ever was.’
Ever the pragmatist, Anne allowed Phillips to remain living on the Gatcombe estate, even after he married Sandy Pflueger, an American Olympic dressage rider, with whom he has a daughter, Stephanie, 22. As one equestrian insider put it: ‘The horsey set has always been very incestuous. Yes, Mark was serially unfaithful but there’s a lot of that going on – Anne just turned a blind eye.’
Now divorced from Pflueger, Phillips, 71, has vacated Aston Farm on the 730-acre estate, to make way for Zara, her rugbyplayer husband Mike Tindall, 41, and their daughters Mia, six, and Lena, two.
Peter also lives on the estate with his estranged wife Autumn, 42, and their daughters Savannah, nine, and Isla, eight. The couple are still living together despite announcing their divorce in January – an unexpected development that has left the Princess ‘sad and disappointed’, according to insiders.
One source said: ‘One thing about the Royal family is they are incredibly close. They are the most dysfunctional family there is, but the Princess and her children and grandchildren are as tight as anything.’
As ever, horse riding remains the tie that binds, with Anne – a former European eventing champion, BBC Sports Personality of the Year and competitor at the 1976 Montreal Olympics – passing on her enthusiasm for the sport to Zara. In recent years, Peter has taken over the running of the Festival of British Eventing at Gatcombe.
By her own admission, breaking with royal tradition by insisting that her children were called Mr and Miss ‘probably’ made life ‘easier for them’. ‘I think most people would argue that there are downsides to having titles,’ Anne said recently. Having initially been brought up, Downton Abbey-style, on the ‘nursery floor’, with her parents often away for months on end on royal tours, it was Anne who insisted she go to a ‘proper’ school – the first daughter of a monarch to do so – rather than be home-taught.
Both Peter and Zara were sent to Port Regis, a co-educational prep school in Dorset, before following in their uncle Charles’s footsteps to board at Gordonstoun in Scotland. Unlike the heir to the throne, who described it as ‘Colditz in kilts’, they thrived in the outdoorsiness of it all, excelled at sport and both ended up at Exeter University – Peter to study sports science and Zara, physiotherapy – despite university having eluded both their parents.
Zara also surpassed her mother’s equestrian achievements by winning the Eventing World Championships in 2006 and a silver medal at the 2012 Olympics – all while Anne was watching proudly from the sidelines.
One friend recalls how the Princess would think nothing of queuing up for the Portaloos at competitions like any other parent, much to the horror of Zara, who would tell her: ‘Mum, you can’t do that!’
Inconspicuous in her trademark Barbour jacket, tweed hat and sunglasses, Anne would regularly be stopped at events on her own estate by police not realising who she was. ‘I remember it happening a couple of times,’ said one source. ‘She was very good about it – she said: “Don’t worry, you weren’t to know.”’
After Zara collected individual and team gold medals at the 2005 European Eventing Championship in Blenheim, Anne invited the entire team, grooms and all, back to Gatcombe to celebrate, serving up ‘sandwiches and scampi in a basket’, in the courtyard. Very much a hands-on mother and grandmother, the Princess has a number of long-serving aides – but no large entourage. Along with Rowena Brassey (now Feilden), Lady Carew Pole has also been the Princess’s lady-in-waiting since 1970.
Unfussy Anne still insists on doing her own make-up and hair – which hasn’t been let down publicly in decades. Although according to one source who once witnessed the rare sight of her unclipping her bun and redoing it during an equestrian event: ‘It really is quite something. It’s still as long as it was when she was in her 20s.’
Part of Anne’s agelessness is down to genes. ‘She always says she doesn’t have very good role models for slowing down,’ Peter told the documentary. As Countryfile presenter John Craven found out when he dared to ask if Anne still rode, only to be rebuked: ‘Her Majesty is still riding, so come on!’ But as well as inheriting her mother’s DNA she shares HM’s strict adherence to style codes – and her aversion to profligacy.
Guests at the 2008 wedding of Lady Rose Windsor, the daughter of the Duke of Gloucester, were astonished when Anne arrived in the outfit she had worn to her brother’s wedding to Lady Diana Spencer, 27 years earlier. The size-10 Maureen Baker floral-print frock still fitted perfectly.
Quite what Anne must have made of Diana and Fergie’s wardrobe expenditure in the 1980s has never been disclosed – although it has long been reported that the Princess never thought too highly of either sister-in-law, regarding Diana particularly as ‘hogging the limelight’.
There were even reports that she viewed the pair as ‘lessening the stature’ of the Royal family, describing them behind the scenes as ‘those girls’. As royal biographer Penny Junor put it: ‘There was Diana on the one hand, who was incredibly touchy-feely, who hugged children, who put children on her lap, who even kissed people in public. And there was Anne, not touching anyone, not playing up to the cameras at all.’
As far removed from the suburban housewife as you can get, when Anne was once spotted mending fences at Gatcombe, she apparently retorted: ‘Somebody’s got to do it!’ ‘She’s never shirked anything in her life,’ said a friend. ‘She’s a real grafter.’
Weekends will invariably be spent with her four grandchildren. Revealing a surprising knowledge of popular culture – despite her dislike of indoor pursuits – the Princess revealed her familiarity with Catherine Tate’s stroppy schoolgirl character Lauren when she commented that Mia’s attitude to equestrianism was, ‘Am I bovvered?’
‘She’s superb with the kids,’ said a friend. ‘She’ll often be in the stables with the grandchildren. She’s got a tremendous sense of humour and is very likeable and kind. She loves Mike [Tindall, Zara’s husband]. He makes them all laugh.
The friend also pointed to Anne’s ‘surprisingly fruity’ sense of humour, adding: ‘And the Princess can swear all right. I’ve heard her use some quite colourful language.’
If the Queen instilled in Anne a love of horses then it was her father who encouraged her other great passion in life: sailing. Anne would regularly accompany the former Royal Navy commander to Cowes Week, and it is a testament to Philip’s infectious love of seafaring that Anne and Tim have kept their yacht Ballochbuie on Loch Craignish in Argyll, since 2012. The couple enjoy nothing more than cruising around the Inner Hebrides, where Anne indulges her passion of visiting lighthouses. She is patron of the Northern Lighthouse Board and is understood to have ‘bagged’ more than half of the UK’s 206.
But it hasn’t always been so easy combining work and pleasure. Anne was put to the diplomatic test when she became the first member of the Royal family to visit the USSR, at the invitation of the then-leader Gorbachev in 1990. In typical style, the Princess didn’t shirk the responsibility – and stayed for two whole weeks. Visits to war zones including Sierra Leone, Mozambique and Bosnia have been similarly taxing – with Anne once insisting after a particularly gruelling tour of Africa: ‘I don’t come here looking for trouble. I come to see if I can help.’
Her association with Save the Children, which dates back to 1970, has seen her slum it on camp beds and visit disease-ravaged Mozambique refugee camps. Once urged by photographers to hug an emaciated child, she refused, saying, ‘I don’t do stunts.’ And in response to a comment on her supposed lack of the maternal instinct, she said: ‘You don’t have to like children particularly to want to give them a decent chance in life.’
Yet her reputation as one of the most diligent royals ever has also been honed by her dedication to little-known domestic causes, like the Wetwheels Foundation, which provides ‘barrier-free boating’ for the disabled. One of more than 300 charities the Princess is involved with, its founder Geoff Holt, a paraplegic who was the first disabled person to sail solo around Britain in 2007, and then across the Atlantic in 2010, has known Anne for over 30 years. ‘I’ve got photos of us going back decades. I’ve got older and older and she’s stayed the same,’ he joked.
‘She’s got to be one of the most hard-working people I know. I’ve never known anything like it – the amount of engagements she packs in. She doesn’t do sycophancy, though.
Michele Jennings, chief executive of Hearing Dogs for the Deaf, of which the Princess has been patron since 1992, also tells staff ‘not to fawn’ when the Princess visits. ‘She hates that,’ she said. ‘We’re a pretty down-to-earth charity and when she comes she’ll have dogs jumping at her shins and crawling all over her, but she doesn’t mind one bit. There’s no awkwardness.’
Another source revealed how during one royal visit, Anne had joked about missing out on all the posh canapés – royals are discouraged from eating in public. ‘I’ll just have to put up with Great Western’s finest,’ she quipped, referring to her train journey home.
Although a ‘daddy’s girl’ growing up, since the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret died in 2002, Anne has become ever more devoted to her mother. Having helped to counsel the Queen through many royal crises over the years, the Princess has been HM’s first port of call when discussing recent tumultuous royal events. Although one can only guess what stalwart Anne makes of Harry and Meghan’s behaviour, she has made no secret of her opposition to royals trying to modernise the institution, seemingly referring to the Sussexes when she remarked recently: ‘I don’t think this younger generation probably understands what I was doing in the past and it’s often true, isn’t it? You don’t necessarily look at the previous generation and say, “Oh, you did that?” Or, “You went there?” Nowadays, they’re much more looking for, “Oh, let’s do it a new way.” I’m already at the stage [of ], please do not reinvent that particular wheel. We’ve been there, done that. Some of these things don’t work. You may need to go back to basics.’
When she turned 60, the Queen elevated Anne to the Order of the Thistle and there was a joint birthday party with Andrew, who was 50 that year. But Covid-19 – not to mention Andrew’s fall from grace – mean this year’s celebrations will be more muted. Indeed, she is not thought to have had much contact with her brother, with whom she shares a love of country pursuits, but little else.
With the Queen having been self-isolating at Windsor Castle since March, it is thought Anne will be reunited with her parents at Balmoral this summer, where she and Tim will once again take in Scotland’s sights by sea.
At a time when the monarchy finds itself somewhat cast adrift, it is the indefatigable Princess Royal who is proving to be its trustiest anchor. As she prepares to turn 70, showing no sign of slowing down after half a century of engagements, lighthouse-lover Anne has become the Royal family’s beacon of good, old-fashioned public service.
#couldnt add the last couple of photos#because tumblr doesnt function properly#but here u go anon!#and everyone :)#princess anne#princess royal#newspapers
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rising Tides Rising Tensions Chapter 6: Growing Closer
It had been about a mount since the disaster that was the charity ball. Craig had recovered from his head injury, (I have a thick skull!” “You don’t even have a skull.”) Meanwhile, the council had been meeting three times a week to try to plan to deal with the rebels and the salmonids. Instead, they had all turned into shouting matches between General Kaminari and Mister Snow. Octavio tried to avoid getting involved, however it had gotten more and more difficult as time went on and his irritation with them both rose. He was getting to the part where he was seriously considering finding a way to temporarily remove both from the council, at least until a plan was made.
Either way, by the time the meeting had ended, Octavio was in a less than pleasant mood. Right now, all he really wanted to do was take out his frustration on the training dummies. Plus, it might get General Yuko off his back. “A ruler must know how to defend themselves! Especially will rebels around!”
Octavio went to his room to put on some workout clothes, before making his way to the training room he used, thankful that his foul mood meant people were leaving him be. After warming up, Octavio threw himself into his training, going through his longer sets, at one point breaking the head off one of the training dummies. After some time had passed, Octavio became aware of someone watching him. Turning, he saw Craig watching him.
“Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Got bored. Decided to come looking for you. Training?”
“Yep. Monarch needs to know how to defend themselves. Plus, it’s a good way to blow off steam.”
“Makes sense. You know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without long sleeves. Or any sleeves.”
Octavio laughed and flexed, causing Craig to start laughing too.
“Hey, since you’re training, wanna try sparring me?”
“Is that smart?”
“Yeah, why not? Doctor says I’ve recovered from the concussion just fine. It’ll be fun.”
“Fine, just let me find you some workout clothes.”
After Craig got into the clothes he had been given, the two entered the ring, bowed, and began to circle each other. Octavio suddenly charged. Punches, kicks, and jabs were flung at Craig, forcing him on the defensive. Octavio had managed to get a few blows in when he was suddenly knocked off his feet.
Hitting the ground, Octavio grunted, looking up to find Craig smirking down at him. “Bit of advice? Next time don’t get so aggressive you lose track of what your opponent is doing,” He said, reaching out a hand to help him up.
Taking his hand, as if to accept the offer, Octavio suddenly pulled Craig to the ground, springing to his feet. “Bit of advice? Next time don’t count your opponent out so easily.”
“Oh, so that’s how you wanna play, eh? Bring it.”
After they sparred for a time, Octavio held up a hand to pause, panting slightly. “I think I’m at my limit. Draw?”
“Sounds to me like you’re surrendering though.”
“I was training for half an hour before you showed up.”
“Okay, okay. A draw it is.” Craig laughed, before smiling at Octavio, a look on his face he couldn’t place.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Craig looked away studying the walls. “Before we started you mentioned you were blowing off steam. Why?”
“Council. Like always. We’ve been trying to figure out what to do about the rebels for a month, and all we’ve managed is shouting matches between Snow and Kaminari. I’m about ready to try to get them temporarily removed from the council.”
“I see. Any ideas of your own?”
“Sadly, no. Problem is we don’t know much about them. It would help if we had captives we could interrogate or a spy or something.”
“Well, maybe you can get some captives.”
“How? Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Maybe if we make it out like you and I will be appearing at some event, we could lure them into a trap. We could interrogate them for information, maybe even find out how they recruit and send in a spy. Craig you’re a genius!”
“I am?”
“Well I wouldn’t have come up with the idea if it wasn’t for you.”
“Oh. Well. Thanks, and you’re welcome.”
“You’re welcome. Anything else to say?”
“I need a shower.”
“Same. I don’t think you’ve gotten to go to the bathhouse yet. Shall we?”
“Sure, why not?”
The pair requested a guard to escort them. Upon arriving they showered, (“Why do I have to shower before I get in the bath?” “Because otherwise you’ll dirty the ink.”) changed into swimsuits, in Craig’s case switched his ink color, and got into a pool, removed from the main hub.
“How do these work?”
“It’s ink.”
“I know that! I meant, like, they’re heated, how does that work?”
“I know, I know. Honestly, I don’t know that. I never thought to ask.”
The pair sat in silence for a few minutes before Octavio spoke up. “Craig are you doing alright?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve been more than willing to listen to my problems, but I don’t think I’ve really asked how you’re holding up with all of this. I should have, and I’m sorry for not.”
“I’m, I guess…” Craig sighed. “I’m a bit in over my head but trying to hide it. I grew up in Calamari County, which isn’t exactly the biggest place. And now I’m being prepared to marry the Octarian king? It’s a lot.”
“I get in. Cod knows I understand. I don’t even remember how often I considered abdicating when I was younger, wishing I hadn’t been born a prince. Being royal isn’t the fairy tale stories make it out to be. But I was serious when I said I’m glad it’s you I’m marrying. I’ll be by your side every step of the way to help, I promise.”
“Tavi…” Craig said, trailing off as he realized just how close they were. Blushing, Octavio gazed into his eyes, a smile on his face. Craig quickly glanced down at Octavio’s mouth before looking back up to meet his gaze. The two began to lean in more and more until…
A loud crash in one of the other rooms shocked them out of their trance, causing them to jump away from each other, blushing even harder.
“So, uh, I heard one of the council members has a birthday coming up.”
“Oh, uh, yes he does!” the pair talked about whatever came to mind, both trying to forget what almost just happened.
#cuttletavio arranged marriage au#cuttletavio#cap’n cuttlefish#dj octavio#rising tides rising tensions#almost kiss#i refuse to apologize
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
All My Fault 12
By: SassyShoulderAngel319
Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Damian Wayne/Batman
Rating: PG
Notes: (Masterlist) This one is just enough longer than usual that I feel the need to point it out XD
Tag List (Open): @batboys-and-other-messes @nanna-the-batmum @probsjosh @welovegroot
Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11
^^^^^
“Do you not want to put your dress on first?” Damian asked.
“Nope. Hair first. Then makeup. Then Steph’s gonna come in and help me with my dress,” I replied. “I'm not pulling it on over my head, though, so it won’t ruin my hair.”
“Tt. I see,” Damian said. “Alright. Have a seat.”
I obediently sat down in front of my desk chair in just shorts, my hoodie, and the bra I was going to wear under my gown. The hoodie was so I could just unzip it and take it off without pulling a shirt over my hair to ruin it.
Damian sat behind me in my desk chair, pulled a package of bobby pins out of his pocket, and picked up my brush and comb. My hair was hanging, wet, down my back and all brushed out. I leaned my head back into Damian’s hands. He began to run his fingers through my hair to section it off as evenly as possible.
I kept my eyes closed so I could just feel what he was doing. It was so relaxing.
While I’d been dancing with Dick in the ballroom the day before, he’d dramatically languished that he was so jealous that I let Damian play with my hair and not him. Dick complained that he’d always wanted to play with my hair because it looked so thick and soft and I would never let him. Which wasn’t entirely true, but he was exaggerating for dramatic effect. And it worked to get me to smile. Then again, my smiles came easy. Unlike Damian and Bruce’s.
I let out a little, “Hmm…” of contentment.
“Does that feel good?” Damian asked. There was no smile in his voice. Just a genuine question.
“Mmhmm,” I grunted, bouncing my left eyebrow. “Feels sooo good.”
Damian chuckled quietly, almost like he didn’t want me to hear. But when I was literally sitting with my shoulders nearly touching his shins, it would have been hard for me not to hear.
It took longer for him to do my hair tonight than last night, even though my hair was wet and staying in place better, because he was being more precise and careful. I gave him complete control over my hair and just sat there, moving around whenever his hands guided me to tilt my head a certain direction.
After maybe fifteen minutes—twenty, maybe?—he finished it off, pinning a few weaves in place, curling the few wisps he teased out of the weaves and plaits, and giving my hair a generous helping of hairspray while using his other hand to block my eyes and face from getting sprayed.
He helped me to my feet. “Take a look,” he recommended. I jogged over to the mirror in my bathroom and peered at it.
“Wow! It looks even better today!” I exclaimed. “I just wanna touch it! But I know I can’t!” I cast a bright smile over my shoulder at him. “Thank you, Damian!” I rushed back over to him and threw my arms around him. “I love it!” I pulled back. “Okay! I gotta put my makeup on. I’ll see you in a little bit, yeah?”
Damian nodded, a bit astonished at the intensity of my hug, and slowly backed out of my room. “Yes. Of course. I will be here to escort you downstairs precisely at five-fifty-five,” he replied.
“Great. Thanks again! I totally owe you one. ‘Kay see you later!” I shut the door and ran to my phone to text Stephanie. Okay he’s gone! Come help me with this dress!
Are you not doing your makeup first?
I’ll start it while you’re on your way. Can’t wait for you to see this hairstyle. It’s amazing.
I'm excited too! Be right there!
I smiled and unzipped my jacket. In my closet, I unzipped the garment bag and got the beautiful green evening gown out, draping it over my bed. In my bathroom I started my eyeshadow, peering at myself through half-lids in the mirror.
Hot dang Damian did a fantastic hairstyle. He got my hair out of my face, but made it look elegant and beautiful. My hair was always one of my favorite features about myself, and I was grateful that he was able to make it look so nice. Especially since this was my first event in this future and I usually did my own hair the same way every time.
Knock-knock!
I ran to my door and yanked it open.
Stephanie Brown, a.k.a. The Spoiler, stood there with a smile on her face. She used to be about two years younger than me. Now she was six years older. She looked gorgeous as always. Glimmering violet gown that hugged her fit figure, soft blonde hair falling in careful curls. She was a few inches taller than me.
She pushed herself into my room and into my hug. “Look at you, Cloudy!” she squealed. “You look so pretty!” She pulled back enough to look at my hair. “Oh wow. Damian’s got a good eye. That’s got, like, a perfect balance to your profile. Look at me. Look to the side,” she ordered, pinching my chin and turning my head side-to-side. “Yup. You’re gonna be a knockout tonight.” She shut my bedroom door behind her. “Now. Dress.”
“Dress,” I agreed. I picked it up off my bed and showed it off to her. “What do you think?”
“It’s gorgeous. Damian still has no idea why you picked the color you did?”
“Not a clue. Or if he did figure it out, he hasn’t confronted me about it.”
“Huh. Well. Maybe when he sees you in it, he’ll get it.” She took it from my hands and unzipped the back. “Okay. Step lightly,” she warned. I nodded, pulled off my shorts and hoodie, and gently eased into the dress. Steph helped it up over my legs and hips, made sure I got my arms into the short sleeves, and then zipped up the back for me. She turned me around to look me up and down. “I think I'm going to faint,” she teased. “You look so beautiful!” She smiled. “I missed you, y’know.”
“I know, Steph. Thanks.” I smiled.
“You gonna finish your makeup now?” she asked.
“Yeah. How much time have I got?” I wondered, peering around for my alarm clock. Where had I hidden it this time?
Steph looked at her phone. “About twenty minutes,” she said.
“Perfect. Just enough time. I’ll see you down there.”
“See you down there.” She squeezed my arms and squealed. “Tonight’s gonna be great!” With dexterity I would literally never master, she ran out of my room—in her four-inch heels. I was wearing two-inch heels that I could feasibly dance in.
Another head poked in as Steph left. “Hey kid,” Jason greeted. “I'm still legally dead so I'm heading out on patrol. Someone’s gotta. Just wanted to wish you luck.”
“Thanks Jay,” I offered, crossing over to him and giving him a little hug—just a small one though so I wouldn’t wrinkle my dress.
“Wow. You’re drop-dead gorgeous tonight, kiddo,” he said. “Damian’s gonna die when he sees you.”
I snorted. “Steph said something similar.”
“She’s not wrong. I mean, if Damian’s not already in love with you, he will be by the end of the night.”
I smacked Jason in the chest. “Jason! Damian’s not in love with me!” I retorted with a laugh. “We’re just… working on being friends. You know he and I were never particularly close when he was younger—”
“Maybe, Cloudy, but you’ll see.” He gave me a cheeky wink and moved to leave. “Tomorrow I wanna hear all about it.”
“Bye Jason,” I said.
He ducked out of my room with a sarcastic two-fingered salute. “Have fun, Princess of Gotham!”
“I'm not a princess!” I called out after him before shutting my door and going back to my makeup. Not much left now. Some rouge. Some eyeliner—not even winged. Mascara. Lipstick. Maybe a touch of perfume if I felt the need… did I put on deodorant? Shoot. I couldn’t remember.
I yanked open my medicine cabinet and popped the deodorant lid off. Oh well. Even if I already had, what was wrong with more, right? Extra protection or something? I didn’t know. I was hitting panic mode.
I went back to my makeup, going through my pre-gala checklist in my head. My hair was done—Damian did it, which was really throwing me off my groove. My makeup was in progress. My dress was on. I’d put my heels on before Damian came to get me. I didn’t need a bag or my phone because we were literally in the house where I lived. I’d come up and reapply lipstick if I needed to. I shouldn’t need to though… it tended to last for at least four hours as long as I didn’t eat anything.
Okay. Good. Calm down. No panic. Just another party. Not even giving a speech. Not in front of everyone anyway. I’d probably be explaining my fake story about being lost in the time-stream fifteen hundred times to gossips who wanted something to talk about for the next several months, but there was no podium.
I was curling my eyelashes when I heard a knock on the door. “McCloud? Are you finished?” Damian called.
“Uh… not yet!” I shouted. “Gimme a few minutes! You can go ahead and head downstairs if you wanna come back in five minutes!”
“Tt. Don’t be ridiculous, McCloud. I cannot show up to the charity ball without the lady I'm escorting.”
“Seriously, Damian! Just head down! It’s fine. Go schmooze for five minutes till I'm done. I just have to finish my makeup and get my heels—oh crap! I forgot my jewelry!” I shoved the mascara wand in the tube and dropped it on my counter before gathering up my skirt into one hand and running into my bedroom. I rummaged through my jewelry box, looking for the stud emerald earrings I’d planned on wearing—Dick had picked them out, but Damian gave them to me on my twentieth birthday.
There they were. I held them in one hand and searched for my necklace in the other. A heavy gold chain with emeralds on it. Come on. Bruce gave it to me like two days ago…
There it was! I snatched it and the matching bracelet.
I ran back to my bathroom to finish mascara and lipstick before heels and jewelry.
Mascara. Done. Lipstick. Done but a little messy—need to fix that… Okay fixed… Jewelry: cleaned off. Earrings in. Bracelet on. Little struggle with my necklace, but it’s on, I thought frantically. Heels!
I hopped into them and buckled them around my ankles.
Once I was ready, I looked at myself in front of my full-length mirror in my closet.
I looked nice.
Straightening my posture and taking a fortifying breath, I strode over to my door. I hadn’t heard Damian say anything so I assumed he went downstairs without me.
Here we go, I thought. I yanked the door open, ready to face the party.
I nearly walked into a pillar wrapped in a tuxedo standing right there. “Damian!”
^^^^^
Damian stared, his eyes widening and mouth dropping open.
He closed and opened his mouth like a fish for a moment, too stunned to fathom his racing thoughts into words. “You… you look incredible,” he finally managed to say. Stupid—stupid! You sound like an imbecile, he thought sharply.
She wore the gown he’d designed and she’d colored—it was a vibrant yet relaxed green with simple gold accents. It wasn’t a gown that hugged her entire body tightly. She hated not being able to move. It fit her torso well and hung loose down her legs. He could see the low gold heels poking out from under the hem. Her lips were a dark pink with a purplish tint. She wore the gold-and-emerald necklace Father had suggested, and the earrings Damian once gave her for her birthday. Her eyeliner made the brown of her eyes even darker and more intense. The mascara boldened her eyelashes—they were thick and dark anyway, but now they were long, black, and far more noticeable.
McCloud smiled—a bright expression that could put the entire night sky to shame. It was the same kind of grin she’d given him when she saw her properly-done hairdo in the mirror earlier. The kind that made his heart pound and his breathing falter. “Thank you! You look really nice too!” she replied, looking him up and down. “You really fill out a tux now that you’re older.”
“Thank… thank you,” he said.
How to Sound Like an Idiot 101: Try to Talk to Your Crush When She’s So Gorgeous You’re Speechless, he heard Tim’s laughing voice say in his mind.
Damian got his wits back. He offered her his arm. “Shall we?” he asked.
She looped her arm through his. “Absolutely,” she replied. “I, uh, I'm surprised you waited for me.”
“Of course,” he said. “I could hardly go down into the masses without you.”
She giggled quietly. “Thanks.”
Damian’s heart thudded against his sternum with every step they took toward the ballroom. He could smell her perfume—something floral. Jasmine, maybe. Or was it lavender? It was a familiar scent that he couldn’t place. She’d worn it before, he knew that. A long time ago for him. Not so long for her.
Whatever it was, he had to convince himself not to be intoxicated and entirely enraptured by it.
^^^^^
Damian and I reached the stairs to the foyer. Guests were arriving by the carload and streaming into the ballroom. I squeezed Damian’s arm tighter. “You ready?” I asked.
“As long as you are,” he replied.
We descended down into the charity ball.
Next
#All My Fault#Chapter 12#All My Fault Chapter 12#Damian Wayne#Damian Wayne Imagine#Damian Wayne FanFiction#Robin#Robin Imagine#Robin FanFiction#Batman#Batman Imagine#Batman FanFiction#DC#DC Imagine#DC FanFiction#BatFam#BatFam Imagine#BatFam FanFiction
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Fire Inside
For @myfavrobin We all need a smokin’ hot fireman in our lives. Also posted on Ao3.
~*~
“Come on, Tim!” Kon begged, gazing up at Tim from the floor and turning on the puppy dog eyes. It should not be as effective as it was considering how long the two of them have been friends, but Tim felt his hard line waver under the onslaught.
“I said no, Kon,” Tim replied firmly. He pulled his legs up and curled them against his chest, pointedly continuing to play his game. Kon’s character died long ago. Perhaps he should revive him and give him something else to focus on besides this.
“But it’s for a good cause!”
“I’m not saying it isn’t.”
“Then why won’t you do it? It’s not like you’ve got any other jobs lined up at the moment.” Kon’s lips sealed shut when he realized his misstep.
Tim paused the game and resisted the urge to throw the controller at his best friend. “I’m on vacation.”
A forced vacation perhaps, but a vacation nevertheless.
Kon sighed as he stood and flopped down next to Tim. “Look, we all know what happened with your mom wasn’t your fault. That doesn’t mean you’ve got to sit here and sulk about it day in, day out. Seriously, when was the last time you’ve seen daylight?”
“Yesterday. I went up to the roof and read in the garden.” Tim’s building was progressive and green, a rarity in Gotham. The rooftop garden was peaceful and quiet during the day while all his neighbors worked. Worked like he used to, even if he technically doesn’t have to, Drake heir that he was.
“Okay, fine,” Kon sighed before pressing on. “I just don’t get it, Tim. You’ve shot pro bono events like this before. You’ve had a great time doing it too. So why won’t you do this calendar for us?”
Kon was a firefighter. A firefighter with an extremely hot and sexy colleague who Tim often dreamed would put out the fires that burned inside him. Jason Todd was everything Tim found attractive in a man, plus a few things he didn’t realize he was missing out on. It killed him each and every time he had to interact with the man, which was more often than he liked since Kon was his best friend. The thought of photographing Jason as part of this calendar the firehouses in the district wanted to put out for their local charity was enough to turn Tim’s insides to Jell-O. He’d seen the man without a shirt on once and walked right into a pole as a result of it.
Nope. He’s not doing this to himself again. No way. Even if the memory of all that tanned skin still kept him awake at night and fueled some of his favorite fantasies.
Tim shook his head. “I have my reasons.”
“Are any of those reasons about six feet tall, blue eyed, with thighs thick as tree trunks?” Kon asked shrewdly.
Tim threw the controller at him. “No!” he tried, but it was too late. Kon was already grinning like the asshole he was.
“I knew it!” he crowed in delight. “You’ve got a crush on Jason!”
“What are you, ten?” Tim snapped as he tried to curl up tighter into his ball.
“Seriously, dude. You do! Why did I not figure this out before?”
“Because I was trying to hide it?”
Kon smirked and shook his head. “This explains why you walked into that pole.”
Tim cast about for something else to throw at his best friend. “Kon, please. Don’t say anything to him.”
“Why? It’s not like he’s going to laugh in your face and tell you to fuck off,” Kon replied. “He’s a dick, but not like that. Besides, when I brought up your name as a potential photographer, he seconded it immediately.”
That was unexpected. ��Really?” Tim asked, perking up a bit.
“Yeah, really. In fact…” Kon trailed off, thinking over his words. That never meant anything good was about to happen. Tim braced himself, but his friend suddenly shook his head, even if there was a devious glint in his eyes. “Never mind. Anyway, please do this for us, Tim. Please. It can even be my Christmas and birthday presents next year.”
Tim knew his best friend too well to believe he was letting it go this easily. “What were you thinking, Kon?”
“I said it was nothing.”
“Nothing my lily white ass.”
Kon grinned broadly and threw the controller back at Tim. “C’mon, Tim. We’re even gonna feed you. And you know you’ve always wanted to play with a firehose.”
“Asshole.”
~*~*~
Tim was weak. So weak. He thought he could collapse right here and might just do it if it weren’t for the fact that his rather expensive camera would be crushed. Instead, he sat his ass on the concrete floor of the firehouse and hid behind the lens, already trained and focused on the subject of this particular shoot.
Jason.
Specifically, a shirtless Jason in nothing but heavy boots and stained yellow trousers held up by a thick pair of suspenders. He hung off the side of the firetruck and grinned rakishly. “Like this?” he asked.
Behind Tim, Dick Grayson, former underwear model and circus brat, was laughing as he tried to direct his friend. “You look like you should be on the cover of one of Cassie’s trashy romance novels.”
Next to him, the blonde paramedic agreed. “Yep. Except I can at least dream about those guys sweeping me off my feet.”
“Didn’t I see a cowboy on the cover of one of those recently?”
“You sure did. And guess what? He was into guys too.”
“Kinky. Can I read that one?” Jason called out.
Tim ignored their banter and snapped more pictures. More than he needed, but they didn’t need to know. “You trying for funny sexy or smoldering sexy?” he managed to ask. Jason looked more natural than anything else, but that grin was already twisting his insides into knots again.
When he found Kon, he was dead. So dead.
Admittedly, the day hadn’t been that bad. Not really. There were over a dozen volunteers from the different firehouses in the district for the event, off duty, and all having a ton of fun with choreographing and ribbing each other on as the photoshoot progressed. Tim had already swapped out his memory card for a fresh one and was pretty certain he would be making an album of all the goofy outtakes for these guys to laugh over.
Kon would still be a dead man though.
Up on the truck, Jason laughed, rich and bright as he swung around. “How about both?” he said as his lightly stubbled face contorted into something that was definitely not sexy nor smoldering.
“Flynn Rider, you are not!” Cassie hooted. “I don’t think goofy sexy is going to sell calendars.”
“I told ya, all we need to do is put Dickie there in a Speedo and we’re set!” Jason retorted as he made another face that Tim quickly caught for posterity. The playful mood helped calm his nerves somewhat.
“Hey, just because I used to flaunt it doesn’t mean I have to now,” Dick shot right back. “That’s why you’re in the money shot and not me.”
Dick had asked Tim before they even started if he would put Jason on the cover of the calendar rather than him. He didn’t mind participating, it was for a good cause after all, but as he put it, the days where his body and junk were on display for the world to see were long gone. Tim immediately acquiesced and rearranged a few of the ideas he had arrived at the station with, even if working closer with Jason was starting to wear on him.
Or rather, wear out his plethora of boner killer images. Tim felt like he’d been walking around at half-mast all morning. Sure, all the men and women around him were attractive and in great physical shape, but Jason seemed to eschew wearing a shirt at all today, even when he wasn’t in front of the camera. All the skin and muscles were getting to him, but right now, it was the faint trail of hair disappearing into Jason’s pants that kept distracting Tim the most. What was he wearing under those? Boxers? Briefs? Nothing?
If he kept it up, Tim was pretty sure Cassie would be performing mouth-to-mouth on him before lunch.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jason replied. “Okay, how about this?” He concentrated, schooling his features into a brooding pout and locked his eyes intently on Tim.
Tim swallowed and kept silent, even as he snapped more pictures. God, through the lens, he could see Jason’s brilliant blue eyes so clearly. That was definitely a smolder.
Still, something was off, and Tim was a professional. He lowered his camera. “Do you have your hat?” he asked. “You know, the big bucket shaped one?”
Dick snickered even as the pout fell off Jason’s face as he started laughing again. “And to think Kon calls you his best friend.”
“Just because he’s my best friend doesn’t mean I know what all your equipment is called.”
“Gimme a sec.” Jason hopped off the truck and brushed against Tim as he walked away.
Tim waited until he was out of sight to collapse against the ground, letting out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“You alright down there, Tim?” Cassie asked teasingly. She and Kon were an on again, off again thing, so Tim knew her pretty well. “If it’s CPR you need, I think I’ll refer you to someone else who would be much more willing to help you relearn how to breathe.”
Tim flipped her off, which made Dick cackle in glee. He was such a dick, even if he did have a pretty face. “I’m gonna kill Kon.”
“Nah, he’s blameless for once. Anyone with half a brain could figure it out.”
Dick squatted down next to him. “Tim, I’m going to let you in on a little secret that’s not really secret to anyone who works here. Except maybe Kon. He’s special like that.”
Tim cracked open an eye. “What?” he asked warily.
“Jason likes you too.”
Huh? Tim sat up quickly and blinked, his heart thundering in his chest. “What?”
“You heard me.” Dick stood and offered Tim a hand up. “He’s had a thing for you ever since the little community carnival you helped out at a while back.”
That was months ago. “If I’m so obvious, then why hasn’t he said anything?”
Cassie snorted loudly as Dick pulled Tim to his feet. “Because he’s just as big an idiot as you are,” she said. “Now that you know, maybe you can do something about it.”
“Wow. Okay. You sure?”
“Positive.”
Tim was still lost in a swirl of emotions when Jason jogged back over, carrying his helmet. Muscles rippled under bare skin and Tim’s mouth watered. Holy cow. If he didn’t somehow screw up, he could actually touch all that skin, or play with the pale nipples that peek out from under those suspenders, and, most importantly, find out exactly what that dark trail of hair leads to.
Oh, who was he kidding? He was Tim Drake. He was bound to screw this up. It was practically his MO for relationships.
“You okay?” Jason asked, reaching out to clasp Tim on the shoulder. “You thirsty?”
Cassie rolled her eyes as she looked away, unable to contain her laugh. “Oh, he’s thirsty for something, alright.”
“We’ll go grab some water bottles and check on lunch. I don’t know why we left Kon and Roy in charge of food.” Dick grabbed hold of Cassie’s arm and dragged her away. Neither quite made it far enough before they broke down in laughter.
“What’s with them?” Jason looked between Tim and his friends in confusion.
“I’m sure you’ll find out later,” Tim replied. Jason was still touching him. His hand was hot against the thin t-shirt he wore. The cool air of the firehouse grew warmer the longer it stayed in place, but that could also be the flush rising up the back of Tim’s neck.
“Yeah, probably.” Jason squeezed Tim’s shoulder lightly before he let go. “So, uh, we gonna finish this?”
Without the others around, things were surprisingly awkward. Tim bit his lip, debating about whether he should speak up or if he should just let Jason find out later after he leaves. His nerves were shot, and it didn’t help matters at all that he could feel the heat radiating off Jason, standing as close as he was.
“Let’s do it,” Tim replied, shoving everything aside to focus on the task at hand. He had one job to do and that was make Jason look as incredible as possible for the cover of this calendar. He could do this. He was a professional. He had photographed some of the most beautiful people in the world for some of the biggest fashion magazines around, even if he privately thought none of them could hold a candle to the man next to him.
Jason put on his helmet and got back up on the truck. He tried hard, Tim would grant him that, but everything felt off. The sizzling energy from earlier was gone and even Jason knew it. He slumped against the truck as Tim swiped through the photos he’d just taken, frowning.
“I’m sorry, Tim. I guess I need to be razzed up or something and now that the peanut gallery is gone…” he trailed off, running a hand through mussed up hair. His helmet sat at his feet.
Tim raised his camera just in time to catch the despondent look. Even like this, Jason was still photogenic.
It was time to make a decision. He could either use one of the shots he’d gotten earlier without the helmet or he could help his subject find that special energy again. Tim glanced at Jason and caught him staring.
The fire ignited once more.
Tim found himself being drawn in closer like a moth attracted to the flame. He took another picture as Jason’s lips parted into that same sensuous pout from before, his eyes intense and brooding.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now, Tim?” Jason asked hoarsely.
“Probably the same thing you’re doing to me,” Tim replied, taking one last picture.
“Yeah? We gonna do something about it?”
Tim lowered his camera. It was a heady feeling, knowing that he somehow turned this gorgeous hunk of a man on. Those were bedroom eyes, ones that he could feel stripping him down to his soul. “It depends,” he said, slowly striding forward.
“On what?” Jason crossed his arms over his chest, drawing Tim’s eye to the spread of his shoulders and all the heavy muscle of his upper body.
“What are the chances we’re going to get some actual privacy around here?”
“Slim to none,” Jason replied. “We’re being watched, you know.”
“Of course, we are.”
“Just kiss already!” Kon’s voice erupted from the other side of the garage. “I got money on this, Tim! You owe me!”
More laughter echoed out around from around them. “No, it has to be Jason!” Cassie shouted. “Do it, Jay! My money’s on you!”
Jason’s head slammed against the side of the fire engine even as Tim’s cheeks blazed under the force of his embarrassment. So much for the moment. At least he had his picture now.
Tim sighed and stepped away, but Jason’s arm snaked out and grabbed hold of him, drawing him close. His hands touched searing skin, and Tim barely managed to keep his camera from crushing into Jason’s chest.
Jason took hold of the camera and carefully swung it around the strap so that it hung down Tim’s back. “Want to fuck up all their bets?”
This was something Tim was very much on board with. “On three?”
“One.” Jason cradled the side of Tim’s face in one of his large hands.
“Two.” Tim reached up and tangled his fingers in Jason’s dark hair.
“Three.”
Their mouths met in a fiery clash even as hoots and shouts of encouragement and laughter rained down around them. Tim moaned under the onslaught and gave as much as he got, refusing to back down. It seemed to turn Jason on even more as his other arm wrapped around him, forcing Tim closer so that he could feel the solid wall of man and muscle pressed against every inch of him. Tim’s free hand dropped to Jason’s waist and traced the edge of the trousers that have been bothering him all morning. At the small of Jason’s back, Tim dared to sneak his fingers under the heavy fabric, wanting an answer to that all important question.
Tim’s questing fingers found nothing but bare skin.
Okay, so maybe Kon wasn’t so dead after all.
#chibinightowl writes#Tim Drake#Jason Todd#JayTim#Awkward Romance#Photographer!Tim#Fireman!Jason#Dick Grayson#Kon-El#Cassie Sandsmark
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter Fifty Four - Somebody Elses Party
Soon the garden was packed with guests, all dressed in their summer finery. Her birthday party had become one of the Queen’s palace garden parties, except it was even more exclusive. Where were the casual outfits? Where’s the rocking music and kids running around? Most importantly, where were any of her friends from Marlborough?
Ellie tried to be as polite as possible with everyone who spoke to her, grateful for their time and efforts in their charities, now without Charlotte to help keep conversations going, but all the while she was on constant lookout trying to spot at least one girl from her dormitory. It had been at least two hours and she’d had no luck, even Taylor Swift had been swept away by the grownups.
She would know a thing or two about best friends.
At least the family was still here, tactically dispersed throughout the garden to talk to as many people as possible and push the royal brand. Savannah and Isla were there, hiding by the bushes with the other teenagers and kids, keeping to themselves. They beckoned Ellie over, noticing her discomfort in the middle of the crowd, the center of attention, but as soon as she made a move to reach them, she was swept aside by her grandmother, Camilla.
“Eleanor, darling, are you enjoying your party?” she asked sweetly.
“Yes, granny, it’s lovely.” Ellie lied. Half lied. Mostly lied.
“It’s a wonderful gathering, so many bright minds come to see you. You should feel very special.”
She hated being told how she should feel, but felt bad for feeling anything but special.
“I do granny, I do.” Ellie reassured her, feeling even more guilty.
It’s not that I’m not grateful for them, I can be charitable, I’m a nice person. I just… don’t want them here. Shit, that sounds terrible.
“Have you seen any of my school friends?” Ellie asked hopefully, even though she knew her grandmother had no clue who her friends were. As sweet as she was, Camilla still thought she liked Take That, even though they were before her time.
“School friends, dear? Camilla seemed confused. “This isn’t really the right place for that sort, is it?”
“That sort?” Ellie pressed her. Thankfully she was well practiced in disguising her irritation. Camilla didn’t pick up on it.
“Yes, the rowdy sort. I imagine your school friends are rather less refined than yourself. Marlborough has been going downhill for years. I did argue for you to be sent to Queen’s Gate and then Mon Fertile, but your mother insisted on Marlborough.”
Ellie ignored that jab. Camilla had always been clear, either outright stating it or via a veiled remark, that she felt Ellie had had too much of a ‘common’ upbringing that was not fitting of a future queen. This was no different.
“It is where she went, granny.” Ellie reminded her.
“I know, I know, it’s a family thing. I still feel you would have done better at Queen’s Gate, at least then you would have made friends we could actually invite.”
“What does that mean?” Ellie was now struggling to hide her anger.
“Darling, did you honestly expect your mother to send any invitations to Marlborough? This was always going to be a formal event, although between you and me, this seems far too casual.”
Ellie was seething. She turned away from Camilla and watched the party, soaking it all in. The party atmosphere had vanished and all she could see was money. The posh and the wealthy, the upper class. She was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. Why would her mother let this happen?
This isn’t me. She knows this isn’t me.
Camilla seemed to pick up on her frustration, “Don’t worry dear, it’ll get more formal as you get older.”
“I’ll speak to you later granny. Thank you for coming.” Ellie kissed her on the cheek and made a quick escape before Camilla started talking about bringing back the 60’s and arranging her debutante ball.
Ellie made her way through the crowd, thanking everyone for coming. She briefly shook hands with Idris Elba and talked about his new film, then he introduced her to even more acting pals. Ellie remained polite throughout, but kept trying to navigate her way to her mother who was holding court in the middle of the garden, with George and Charlotte holding onto her legs.
“Mum, can we talk?” Ellie asked quietly.
“In a minute sweetheart, you need to meet Danielle and Willa here.” Kate put her hand on the small of her back and ushered her towards the two women.
It stayed that way for the next hour, being introduced to practically every guest present by her mother, who kept her hand on her back throughout as if she was showing her daughter off. Ellie felt like a piece of meat, being auctioned off to various charities that wanted her to become a patron. Kate was trying to get her to show an interest, tactically introducing her to charities she thought Ellie would be interested in.
The trouble was that Ellie wasn’t interested in any of them, not strongly enough to pick one as her first ever patronage. She liked horses, yes, but hadn’t had much time to ride whilst at school. Music was great, but the most musical related thinking she’d done recently was what to add to her studying playlist on Spotify.
It’s not like I’ve been allowed to go to a concert before, either.
She was only fifteen, and yet she was expected to be strongly supportive of a cause close to her heart, but what?
She’d tried to ask her mother about her friends, but all the talk of her future had drained her energy.
“Mum, I need to pee.” She whispered in her mother’s ear.
Kate gave her a squeeze and kissed her on the forehead. “All right, come right back poppet. Lots more people I want you to meet.”
Instead Ellie snuck her way out of the party, using the same arch way that her great grandparents had used hours before when they arrived. She knew that all eyes were on her anyway, including the cameras, so there wasn’t much point in sneaking, but she did so anyway. It wasn’t like anyone was going to stop her.
The atmosphere was much quieter outside the garden, with no guests milling around and just the caterers and staff busy carrying trays in and out of the party. They all gave her space, and didn’t complain when she picked a few cocktail sausages from a plate and dipped them in tomato sauce. She hadn’t eaten in hours and the hunger pains were hitting hard, only noticeable now that her anxiety had been lifted.
“We can get you a sandwich if you’d like, ma’am.” A freckle faced young woman told her. She was one of the masses of staff that had been hired to cater the party, and someone who seemed just as tired of the guests as Ellie was.
“Oh please! That’d be amazing.” Ellie gushed, wiping her mouth with her hand. Etiquette be damned, she just wanted to eat.
Ellie told the woman what she’d like, and while the other caterers gave her shifty looks, she quickly prepared a cheese toastie especially for Ellie.
“This feels like my first birthday present.” Ellie spoke with her mouth full, savouring the flavour. She’d almost forgotten what the whole party was for.
The woman frowned at her. Ellie immediately worried about how that came across, and so to not sound like a spoiled little girl she continued. “Fourteen birthdays before this, none have been as formal as this.”
Nice, Ellie.
The woman appeared slightly uncomfortable, unsure what to say. She smiled at Ellie as she enjoyed the sandwich, then finally spoke. “To be fair, this doesn’t feel like a fifteen-year old’s birthday party.”
“It doesn’t?” asked Ellie, wanting to hear the answer from somebody else.
“Nah, I’ve worked those too. Nothing like this.”
“What does this one feel like?”
“Kinda posh.” She spoke with a thick Geordie accent. “Fanciest gathering that I’ve worked.”
One of the woman’s colleagues came over, curtsied to Ellie, and took the woman aside. Ellie listened to their whispering, apparently the other servers thought that the woman was avoiding work to chat with celebs.
“I should get back.” The woman said, grabbing a tray of freshly cooked sausage rolls and rushing off.
“Thanks for the toastie!” Ellie yelled after her.
So, this is what her life had become. No longer having fun, joy filled birthday parties with friends and family. Instead having quiet, respectful ‘gatherings’ with a bunch of unfamiliar faces, which would get even more tightly controlled if Camilla was to be believed.
Ellie retreated further, wandering behind the catering trucks, past the hustle and bustle of the staff and guests that were leaving early. Occasionally she’d pass by a few guests she didn’t know who had left to find more secluded spots to escape the party, just as Ellie was doing. They bowed to her, tried to apologise and said they were “just about to head back inside.”
They all seemed to think she’d come out there to ruin their escape plans, and she rushed to reassure each one of them that that was not the case. They didn’t really believe her.
“We’re sorry, Your Highness.”
“Happy birthday, Your Highness.”
Grumpier than ever, she found her secret spot. It was a little space between the hedges that nobody knew about, just next to the woods and not far from the nearest river. It was the perfect place to hide from everyone at the party, even her family, all except the cameras. It was a good spot to have one of the CCTV cameras as, from up high, it offered a view of the whole garden. Ben also happened to know it was one of her spots.
She bent down, her knees rubbing in the dirt and no doubt muddying her dress. With a little testing of the hedges, she found the spot where the twigs weren’t so dense and pushed them aside, revealing a hole in the hedge that she could crawl through.
She made more noise than she normally did getting through the hole, all the twigs and leaves rustling as she squirmed past, a sad reminder that she wasn’t a little girl anymore. The sound of the party was still dominating her ears, yet even when she stopped moving to remove a branch that had caught on the sash of her dress, the rustling of bushes continued. Ellie listened closer, the sound wasn’t from anything she was touching. It was coming from her hiding spot.
She crawled faster, doing her best to be sneaky. The noise of the party helped mask her movements as the rustling up ahead hadn’t stopped, but now she could hear new noises. Soppy and sucking sounds, like two wet fruits being grinded and slapped against each other.
“Eugh” Ellie whispered. She watched as two guests sucked face in her favourite hiding spot, forever tainting it. This made her even more grumpy, but at the same time she couldn’t help but watch them.
Their faces were obscured, but the two sparkly dresses and sets of high heels made sure that whoever they were, it was going to be controversial. Ellie couldn’t stop herself from audibly gasping and interrupting the pair when one of them finally turned towards the light.
“Your Highness, uh, we’re so sorry.” Hailee Steinfeld said to her, blushing a deep crimson as she tried to fix her lipstick with one finger.
Dakota Fanning just smiled awkwardly, hiding her hands behind her back and bowing her head slightly. She let out a nervous giggle.
The two women towered over Ellie in their heels, but having them both nervous around her, seemingly unable to leave, was unsettling. Two of the biggest actresses in Hollywood caught making out in front of her, grown women, and yet they were apparently waiting for Ellie to relieve them.
“It’s okay.” Ellie finally said, remembering to say something. The two women visibly relaxed.
The last thing Ellie wanted to be in that moment was a Princess. She wanted to gossip. This was huge. An utter scandal, and at her own birthday party! Hailee was supposed to be with Jason from the Bass Boys, Dakota was apparently sworn off relationships forever.
Both women apologised again and made their escapes quickly. As soon as they were gone Ellie spun around, completely blown away by what she’d seen. She wanted to tell her friends, to laugh, to theorise, but nobody was there. She spun around again and then collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily and realising how much she’d tightened up in front of them.
“That was huge!”
Ellie shot back up to her feet. Taylor Swift appeared from behind the hedges.
Is everyone sneaking through these hedges now? And is this why Taylor is always making headlines? Because she’s hiding behind the bushes during all the big scandals?
“You scared me.” Ellie clutched her chest, slowing down her breathing.
“Sorry, Your Highness.”
She’d had enough. Ellie’s mask slipped.
“Please don’t call me that. I don’t want to be called that. Not today” The words stuck in her throat.
Taylor stood there, watching for a moment while Ellie sat back down again. After a long awkward silence in which she could tell Taylor was debating whether to stay or go, her idol finally sat down next to her.
Ellie couldn’t speak, stunned by how surreal everything was. Sitting in seclusion, stars starting to appear in the sky whilst the party droned on behind them. Not to mention that star studded make out session. She had no doubt it was these sorts of moments that inspired a lot of Taylor’s songs.
Oh God. “You’re not going to write a song about this, are you?” Ellie asked.
Taylor laughed. “No, probably not. Hailee’s a friend.”
“You haven’t written about friends before?” Ellie probed.
“Well yeah, just not by name. Didn’t you ever listen to Bad Blood?”
“It’s one of my faves, I listened to it a lot when Alex stole one of my games.”
They both giggled. “That’s a valid reason.” Taylor nudged her arm.
“Cause now we got baaaaad blood, it used to be maaaaad love!” They sang it together.
The awkward silence came back as they sat together, listening to the party.
Taylor leaned back, her hands in the grass. Ellie could feel her eyeing her up from behind. “So, what do I call you, if not Your Highness? Gotta say I’m used to your cronies telling me to stick to the titles.”
“They’d also tell you to curtsey.” Ellie added.
“Do you want me to curtsey?” Taylor asked, moving to stand up.
“No, please don’t.” Ellie quickly put her hand on Taylor’s knee. A curtsey from her would ruin the day even more.
“All right.” Taylor sat back down, then edged closer to her. “So what can I call you?”
“Ellie’s fine.”
“Ellie, then.”
More awkward silence. Taylor watched her closely, then started rubbing her back in a caring, motherly sort of way. Ellie was in dreamland. Surely this was every Swifty’s dream.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Taylor asked.
Ellie could feel her emotions boiling over, tears gathering in her eyes. With all the fear and anxiety the party had caused her, now to top it all off was embarrassment. To be so emotional in front of a stranger was so foreign to her, so unbelievably different to how she normally was.
“I hate that I’m crying.” Ellie felt her skin warm up as she said the words.
“It’s okay to cry.” Taylor soothed her.
This is so weird.
“I just wanted a normal birthday party, okay.” Ellie struggled to explain herself, stuck between wanting help and not wanting to sound spoilt. “Instead this happened.”
“Not what you expected?”
“Sometimes a celebrity will be there, but its normally just friends and family. It’s never about work.”
“Nobody wants to work on their birthday.” Taylor gave her a comforting squeeze. “You know, I remember coming to your sixth birthday party a few years ago. You were adorable.”
“You were at my birthday?” Ellie asked, blown away once more.
“Yea-aaah.” Taylor told her, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Your dad and I did some karaoke together. He’s not a bad singer.”
“Ugh, don’t tell him that. He’ll be singing for days.”
They laughed together, making the tears roll down her cheeks. Ellie went to wipe them away but Taylor did it first. “Ellie, we’re friends, right?”
Ellie nodded eagerly. Yes, yes, yes!
“I know our lives are so, so… different, and the amount of pressure you must be under is just… insane. I see you every day in the news and you handle it so well, it’s inspiring.”
“Stop, you’ll make me cry even more.” Ellie pleaded.
Taylor pressed on. “I feel like I’ve gone through some of what you’re experiencing. This expectation to be someone for everyone, it’s tough to keep up. You’ve gotta have time to be yourself, have friends you can be yourself around.”
“They weren’t invited. Not classy enough.” Ellie said bitterly.
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“It’s true, Mum didn’t invite them.” Ellie looked around, aiming to glare at her mother before realising that a dozen hedges blocked the way.
“The Kate I know wouldn’t do that.” Taylor told her, her eyebrow raised.
Ellie just shrugged and didn’t respond, her mood turning sour once more.
“When I was a lot younger, just starting out, I had to go to a lot of parties like this. Ones where I had to impress strangers, practically sell myself. It was stressful as hell and sometimes I just wanted to run away.”
“Sounds familiar.” Ellie said sarcastically.
“Sometimes I did run away.” Taylor shook her slightly, gazing intently at her. “Right out the front door. Just walked down the street for a bit, or found a nice place to sit and zone out. It was the best feeling in the world.”
Taylor stood up, then turned to Ellie and grabbed her hands to lift her up onto her feet as well. “I hear there’s a nice little river nearby.”
“Yeah, just through the woods.” Ellie pointed into the thick woodland, away from the party.
“Go on then.” Taylor urged her, a beaming smile on her face.
“Go on? What?” Ellie just stared at her, wide eyed.
“You need this Ellie, I’m looking out for you.” Taylor dragged her up to the edge of the woods.
“You’re serious?”
“I am!”
Ellie bounced on her heels, getting excited. Should she really do it? Just leave just like that?
And never come back?
Taylor kept urging her on, turning her to face the forest every time Ellie spun around in circles.
“Just go be yourself for a bit, breathe, have a nice walk. You’ll feel so much better.” Taylor nudged her forwards with a hand on the small of her back. “I promise.”
Ellie stood frozen as she felt Taylor step away, moving back towards the party. It was so exciting! She couldn’t think straight, her hands were trembling, her feet itching to move. She could sense Taylor a few steps behind her, watching, waiting.
Her ears perked up, a strange whirring noise high up above her brought her out of her reverie. She looked up, following the sound all the way up to the camera. It was staring right down at her, following her every move.
Fuck.
Ellie stared up at the camera, knowing exactly who was watching her. She could feel them politely asking her to return to the party, in that way that sounded like a suggestion but was most definitely an order. Ellie didn’t move. She felt guilty, but she wanted this, she needed this.
She mouthed the word please, then desperately looked to the woods, to freedom. The camera kept watching her, as if it was waiting her out. Expecting her to back down, but she didn’t want to.
“Please Ben.” She whispered. Surely he’d understand. He’d know she’d stay safe. Staying at the party was the more dangerous option.
#royal fanfiction#fanfiction#kate middleton#prince william#pofcroyalfanfiction#royals#british royal family#emma watson#creative#royalfanficcollection#royalfanficcentral
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Smoke and Mirrors
El Abuelo is the most notorious of crime bosses, and it falls to Special Agent Reynauld Maurouard to take him down. His only lead: Dismas, an ex-bandit whose outfit was in the mobster's hire.
Things go downhill from there.
Chapter 1
Special Agent Reynauld Maurouard couldn't say that filling out forms was his favourite occupation, but paperwork was a necessary evil when you worked in law enforcement. When a shadow fell over him, blocking out the light, he put down his pen and straightened. Reynauld could have sworn that he could hear as well as feel some disks in his back pop into place. Or out of it. Something to worry about later.
"How's it going?" the man leaning on his desk asked, a faint smile playing around his mouth as he surveyed the battlefield that was Reynauld's workspace.
"How'd you think?" Reynauld grunted, rubbing his hands over his face until he saw stars. For the past hour the letters had been running together, but he needed to finish this before tomorrow or he'd have his superiors breathing down his neck. "I'm elbows deep in reports."
"Ain't we all?" Guyot asked. In the clinically cold light of the neon lamps the dark circles around his eyes were all the more prominent, and his freckles were a stark contrast to his pale skin. He looked just as exhausted as Reynauld felt.
As if he had read his thoughts, Guyot lifted a silver can, giving it an inviting swirl, and instantly the rich aroma of roasted beans permeated the stale office air. "Coffee?"
When he saw Reynauld hesitating, he was quick to add, "It's good, I tested it. On Marci." Guyot looked around, guilt written all over his face, but in the end he just shrugged and grinned sheepishly.
Reynauld chuckled. When some higher ups had thought it a great idea to put the PD and forensics in the same building – talk about corruption – and some of the doctors were evidently as mentally unstable as the criminals they pursued, caution saved you from getting yourself into a lot of trouble. "Is she still among the living?"
"Aye, the living and the conscious," Guyot replied easily.
"Then yes, please." Reynauld had to shift some folders to find his mug buried underneath them and held it out for Guyot to fill.
Which he did, right up to the brim, eying some of the papers strewn all over the desk in the process. "What'cha got here? Montgomery case?"
"M-hmm," Reynauld hummed and took a sip of scalding hot fermented–bean–juice. He closed his eyes for a moment to savour it.
"What a shitshow," Guyot observed. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we got him. Just because the man was in politics and old money, don't mean he's above justice." He stopped; they'd talked more than their fair share about it. The case had been all over the news for weeks, and by now everybody who had worked on it was fed up with it. It was time to wrap it up and to move on.
"Anyway, the guys wanna know if you're coming to the track run. We're up against the boys from Eastside distinct."
Track run. That rang a bell. Reynauld frowned; he had quite forgotten about the charity event. "When's it?"
"Next weekend."
"I can't," Reynauld replied and didn't have to fake the regret. Those competition between departments were usually a lot of fun and a good way to get to know new people, make some contacts. "Thio's over, and I promised him we'll go camping."
"Aw, damn. We're losing our best man." But Guyot said it with a smile. He knew how much those weekends meant to Reynauld. "How is the big man?"
"Growing bigger every day." The thought of his son never failed to put a smile on Reynauld's face. "I can't believe he's about to turn eight. Eve wanted to have a party. You're invited of course, provided you can stand a horde of children high on sugar.
"You know I'd never miss out, and Lucy's been wanting to visit anyway. We'll pop in, say hi, and evac if it gets too bad." Guyot laughed and Reynauld had to join in. Fair was fair. They had served in the army together, and when they had quit the force it had been his friend's contacts that had given Reynauld a job here in the city.
"Chin up, soldier. One more week and it's over," Guyot said. "Maybe the chief's even gonna give you a promotion!"
Reynauld snorted at the thought, which should be answer enough. If you couldn't find pride in the police work but wanted praise, you had to join the K-9 units. As a dog. On most days, Reynauld did enjoy it; doing something good, something useful. He thanked Guyot for the offering of artificial energy that would get him through the evening and waved when the other man took his leave.
Just a few more hours, and he'd be able to go home. Put a lid on the whole thing and give himself a pat on the shoulder. From a framed picture, one of the few private possessions he kept at work, Reynauld's family was smiling at him.
He sighed and picked up his pen again.
Reynauld wished a person could refuel on good mood like a vehicle could on gasoline, because Monday came cloaked in chaos, like a true harbinger of a bad week.
Over the weekend, he had taken Thio out of the city and to a natural preserve that had a nice lake and easy trails. Maybe when his son was older, Reynauld would be able to take him hiking in the Hinterlands, but that would be in a couple of years at the earliest.
Now, he was running late for work since his alarm had given up on life sometime in the middle of the night. Thanks to years of military service and an affinity for the early morning hours, he still managed to wake almost on time. Maintenance works on the train rails forced him to take his car however, and he promptly found himself stuck in an unmoving column of other unfortunate souls braving the morning traffic.
When he had finally made it to the intersection, he almost had an accident when some idiot on a motorbike ran a red light and cut him off, disappearing between a delivery van and a taxi before Reynauld had a chance to catch his plate number.
The rest of the drive passed without incident, thankfully. The RPD, the Riverside Police Department, was located some two miles outside of the city center, and just about ten walking minutes from the Riverside train station. The building had a long history, beginning with it originally being built as a summer residence for Emperor Harauld. Since then it had served as university, a hospital, and finally the casern it was to this day.
There was nothing inherently inviting about the grey and cheerless stonework, but it was far from the worst place to work. In the large courtyard, Barristan had some sweaty-looking recruits in training clothes lined up. Reynauld returned the wave the one-eyed drill sergeant greeted him with, and hurried on.
As soon as he pulled open the door, he was struck by the lack of usual activity. The quiet of the waiting room was disturbed only by the hum of the ceiling fan, its blades rotating lazily. The air was thick with the smells of stale coffee and smoke, even though smoking inside had been prohibited by law several years ago. Underlying those was a faint odour of office: a less-than enticing mix of sweat, paper, and cleaning agents.
There was nobody seated behind the two front desks, and that was unusual enough to make Reynauld double-check his mobile and pager, nervous about maybe having overlooked a message. Special Weapons And Tactics carried those to call them to operations too dangerous for regular police officers to handle. Riot control wasn't much of an issue these days anymore, so they mostly handled search warrants and cases that involved organized crime, which in turn were usually linked to weapon or narcotics dealership, or illegal betting. They had special training; and were authorized to carry military equipment, but the rest of the time, they were law enforcement agents like any other. Reynauld did his fair share of patrols, reports and other sorts of office work.
Both the pager and his phone's screens were blank, so he had not missed some emergency. He decided to go to his office first; maybe Guyot would be able to tell him what was going on. He never got that far though, because Reynauld almost collided with Marci when he jogged up the stairs.
"Where is everyone?"
"Mallory's office," the young police officer replied, sounding out of breath. "Linesi's taken out two teams – there has been another robbery."
Another one. Reynauld's heart sank. "Where?"
"Central," Maci replied, biting her lip.
Reynauld nodded, and hurried past her. Mallory saw him and waved from the door to her office. She was a tall, no-nonsense kind of person who wore her black hair short and whom he had never seen out of a suit. She had worked her way up to deputy director and it was generally assumed she would one day replace the Chief when he retired.
She was holding a meeting, and a grapevine of people was clustered in the room which seemed too small all of a sudden. Gatherings like this didn't usually happen unless it was someone's birthday or something bad had occurred. Reynauld didn't need Marci to tell him which one this was, he could have guessed by the absence of cake and smiles upon the faces of those around him.
Reynauld took up position in the back of the group. He had to stand on his toes to be able to look over all their heads and see what held their attention. The flatscreen was a video playing footage from what could only be a security camera. Reynauld had missed most of it, but he arrived just in time to see a black-masked burglar breathe steam on the camera's lens. The quality of the recording was not good enough to tell whether it was a man or a woman before fog was all they could see. And then a heart appeared where the condensation was wiped away with the tip of one finger. Seconds later, the tv flickered to black, and that was it.
In the silence that followed one would have been able to hear a pin drop. And that was saying something since the office was carpeted.
"When did this happen?" Reynauld finally asked when he realized nobody else was going to.
"We received the tape this morning," Mallory answered, and turned off the television with an annoyed flick of her wrist. "This was recorded on Sunday evening."
"I thought the cemetery had a security firm doing surveillance, and we'll get notified as soon as something happens?" someone to Reynauld's right called out.
A muscle in Mallory's jaw twitched, but her tone did not betray her frustration. "They disabled the security system," she informed them.
"Shit!" somebody else cursed, which earned them a glower from Mallory, but by then the room had burst into chaos; everybody was calling out ideas and talking one over the other.
"Rey." Mallory's hand landed on his shoulder a moment later, and her voice lowered, despite the chance of being overheard being close to zero. "The Chief wants a word."
Reynauld nodded at her and left the room, leaving her to bring back order to the meeting. His boss was not the most patient of men, and there was no reason to antagonize him, especially since he very much did not want to draw attention to his tardiness.
The Chief's office was at the end of the second story corridor. A golden plate was screwed to the door, but Reynauld did not even glance at it. His knuckles had barely made contact with the wood when he was told to enter, and he stepped into Chief Vvulf's domain.
The room was just like he remembered it. Most of it was taken up by a large desk, and the walls were lined with shelves that were slowly beginning to bend under their load. At some point an effort had been made to make the office look more homely, but the plants had not lasted long. The Chief had kept but one, and the fact that it was a cactus really spoke for itself.
He was in his middle years, with short grey hair and the figure of a powerful man who was slowly getting out of shape. "What did she tell you?" the Chief began without so much as a word of greeting. He was seated in a big leather armchair behind his desk.
Guessing that he must have meant Mallory, Reynauld answered, "The central cemetery was hit by a masked felon nicknamed the Graverobber."
The Chief nodded, then made a hand gesture for Reynauld to close the door and take a seat. "This ain't for anybody's ears," he grunted.
"Sir?"
Vvulf laced his fingers together on his stomach, fixing his unblinking gaze on Reynauld. "There's no point tiptoeing around it. I don't shout it from the rooftops, but my family's history goes back a long way. The mausoleum that was hit yesterday wasn't just anyone. These attacks are have become a personal matter now. We, the police, are being targeted, and the situation has gotten out of control."
Reynauld had not known that the Chief was related to any of the old nobility, but then perhaps the knowledge should not surprise him; one did not rise to the rank of Chief without some good connections. There was very little Reynauld actually knew about the man who was his boss, despite having worked for him for years. Vvulf was someone who valued his privacy and didn't get too friendly with his subordinates.
"So we take down the ones responsible," Reynauld deducted, still unsure why he was here. Certainly it was not so that his boss could make that little confession?
"You're a smart man, Maurouard," Vvulf pointed out, a hint of irritation in his voice.
"You don't think they're acting out of their own agenda," Reynauld deduced, remembering the video Mallory had shown them. The Graverobber's actions had struck him as being... provocative, almost. They certainly had wanted to be seen, maybe to send some kind of message.
"No. I do not," the Chief confirmed with a pleased nod. "Whether we like it or not, the old families are the foundation which this city is built upon."
Reynauld noticed he spoke as if he did not belong to one of them, despite his earlier admission.
"And there are those who would benefit from weakening it, from sowing discord, uncertainty and fear. From making us look weak and incompetent. If the people do not feel safe," the Chief said and leaned forward on his elbows as if he was to share a great secret, "Whom will they turn to for protection?"
"So these attacks are not a coincidence," Reynauld summed up. Everybody had presumed as much, but they still lacked solid proof. "And you suspect one of the northern cartels?"
Vvulf was shaking his head before Reynauld had even finished speaking. "Not just any one of them." Reynauld wanted to ask if he really thought he could be behind all this, but the Chief continued. "El Abuelo has plenty of reason to target us," Vvulf pointed out. "We may not know what his final goal is, but men like him feed off chaos. They always look for weaknesses, for a way to expand their power. We need to stop him – ," the Chief broke off abruptly, and Reynauld imagined he could hear the ghost of an at all costs.
He did not comment. El Abuelo was one of the, if not the most notorious of crime bosses. Reynauld was still trying to come to terms with everything he had learned, when Vvulf said,
"I want you to be the Special Agent in Charge on this case."
"Me?"
"Do you see anyone else in this room?" Vvulf demanded to know. "Yes, you."
"Why?" Reynauld blurted out, which, in hindsight, probably wasn't the smartest thing to say. He was still reeling from all the information – a moment ago he had not even known there was a case; now he had been told he was to lead a major investigation that involved one of the most dangerous men in the North. And was not the most experienced man the Chief had, and huge cases like this were usually given to the senior officers.
Vvulf's lips pursed in thought. "You did some good work," he finally said, but even guff praise from the Chief was quite something. "I like that you are efficient and discreet and I trust you to handle delicate matters without causing a scandal. This is your chance, Maurouard. Prove me I'm right, and who knows, this seat might one day belong to you," he added and laughed at his own joke, a rare sign he had a sense of humour, buried somewhere deep inside.
The corner of Reynauld's mouth tugged upwards. "Thinking about retiring, Sir?" It would be hard to imagine the PD without Vvulf there to lead them, he was such a huge personality. A tough boss with high expectations, but a fair one.
"There's one of them Southern beaches that has my name on it," Vvulf said, but his eyes were already narrowing. "You look like there's something on your mind. Spit it out, what is it?"
"I was actually hoping to take some time off," Reynauld confessed. He was tired from merely thinking about the upcoming work load. He deserved a vacation, and he still had three weeks good from last year that he was going to lose soon – as his boss knew very well.
Vvulf leaned back, making his leather armchair creak. "Tell you what," he decided. "If time wasn't of the essence, I'd let you go right now. I will let you keep your three weeks, and if we get El Abuelo, I'll top it off with a month of paid leave extra, so you can spend some time with your boy – family's everything, after all. How does that sound?"
"Sounds like a deal, Sir." Reynauld could barely believe the offer he'd been made; it was quite unheard of. But he trusted his boss not to pull him over. And if they got El Abuelo, Vvulf would be basking in the attention of the media. He might even be hailed a city hero.
"Excellent," the Chief said, sounding pleased. "You'll be happy to know we already have a lead."
That certainly was news. "We do?" Reynauld asked, cocking his brow.
"The Graverobber is not operating on his or her own," Vvulf replied. "There is no way they could disable the security system and rob the mausoleum in time before we were alerted of the shutdown. They have an accomplice." The Chief turned and got up, reaching to take a folder off the shelf behind him. He dropped it on the table and flipped it towards Reynauld who opened it.
The first page was taken up by a close-up of a man's face. For reasons unknown the photograph was black and white, but Reynauld did not need colour to recognize him.
"Dismas," he said, remembering the name because it was actually that of the penitent thief from the Verse of Light. An alias then.
Reynauld wasn't sure if the rogue was ballsy, or merely an arsehole.
"Aye," Vvulf confirmed, his greying brows drawing together. "One right bloody fucker. He's guilty of more than some harmless misconduct too. The man's an ex-bandit, and former member of the Wolves."
Reynauld flipped the first page. There was a list of information they had managed to collect on the man. The first line read:
Real name: Valance Paixdecouer.
"Paixdecouer," Reynauld said slowly, thinking. "Is the name given to orphans raised by the Order."
Vvulf nodded. "I see I chose the right man for the job. Pick your team, Maurouard, and get started straight away. This has top priority from now on until I tell you otherwise. "
Reynauld closed the folder with a snap and picked it up, resting it against the crook of his elbow. "What about the Montgomery case, Sir?"
"Just hand it over to someone else," Vvulf said. "Mallory will handle it, if no one else will. You can report to her, if I'm not here."
Reynauld nodded, "You said Dismas ran with the Wolves?" He had heard a lot about the gang, but it had fallen apart and its members had scattered when their leader had disappeared. Apparently there had been some sort of falling out between who they only knew as the Wolf, and El Abuelo.
"The Wolf was El Abuelo's hireling," the Chief said after a brief pause. "Therefore, if we find him," Vvulf said, tapping one fat finger against picture-Dismas' temple, "Maybe we can retrace his connection right back to the source."
"Do we know his whereabouts then?" Reynauld wanted to know. Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement. The Wolf had disappeared a little bit over a decade ago – either laying low, or killed by El Abuelo himself. Even if he was alive, he had had enough time to cover his tracks. It was unlikely they would find him – unlikely, but not impossible.
"Unfortunately, we do not," Vvulf confirmed Reynauld's suspicion. "Every time we were tipped off and the team's gotten close, he has slipped through our nets. Man doesn't hang out in one place for very long. The good thing is: We got somebody who was close to him."
"How do you know-"
Vvulf waved his hand in a dismissing gesture and Reynauld dropped that thread to ask a far more important question.
"Has he told us anything?"
"Not yet," the Chief said in a tone that made it crystal clear he would, sooner rather than later – even if he had to wring the answers out of the prisoner himself. "But he will. And when he does, I want you and your team to be ready. This could be the biggest strike against organized crime in fifty years!"
"Yes, Sir!" Reynauld saluted the Chief with the folder and turned on his heel. Guyot was the first one on his team. They had an uncatchable criminal to capture. Reynauld had always liked a challenge.
AN: You can also find the story here, on AO3!
#blu's corner#writing#fanfiction#darkest dungeon#dismas#reynauld#Reymas#alternative universe#Modern Setting#Grave Robber
44 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! Can I request a hakyeon Prince AU? Thank you 💓💓💓
here u go!!!! i hope u like it sweetheart!!! i had so much fun writing this prince hakyeon is such a concept
prince!hakyeon
prince hakyeon aka the nation’s angel
his citizens love him so much and for good reason!!!!! he’s extremely charismatic and handsome and is excellent at posing for the paparazzi, but he’s also very down to earth and cares a huge amount about making sure his people are being taken care of
he wears perfectly tailored silk suits but also barges into council meetings when they’re trying to screw over the hard workers of the country and convinces them to increase the education budget instead ……. get u a man that can do both
he does a lot of charity work in the capitol and around the country, but his favorite events are hosting dance lessons for children and sometimes open it up to the public!!
he’s danced for most of his life and he loves to share his joy of the art with his people
multiple videos of him dancing have gone viral and you bet almost every teenager in the country has dreamed of being able to dance with cha hakyeon ……….
is ALWAYS being asked by interviewers and also just random old ladies on the street what his skincare routine is ,,, ,, , ,, ,, ,,, because no human should have such perfect skin? how does he do it?
you knew hakyeon when you were young, because your mother was a visiting diplomat in his country for the first 7 years of your life and was very close to the queen
none of the other politicians had children the same age as you and hakyeon, so the two of you were thick as thieves and pretty much grew up together
as kids you were always the more adventurous of the two whereas hakyeon was better at listening, so you were the one to convince him to go wading in the koi pond even though the gardener told you not to or hide from your nannies
at age 5 you accidentally started a giant crisis because hakyeon hid so well and the palace was so big that you couldn’t find him and when you went crying to the queen the guards freaked out and essentially went on a man hunt
turned out he just fell asleep in the dark corner of the royal library
at fancy events the two of you would always sneak away to the gardens and run around playing make believe, or when you were being watched more carefully you would hide under the table cloth and tell scary stories to try and freak the other out
your mothers tried to get the royal tutor to tutor the two of you together but he threatened to quit within a week because you just “would not stop making the prince laugh” so you had to leave hakyeon and go to a different private tutor
you loved the rain so whenever it started to rain you would bang on hakyeon’s door and the two of you would go play outside, even though your nannies protested and said that hakyeon’s leather shoes would get ruined
it was honestly the perfect childhood, but a little before hakyeon’s eighth birthday …. just as you had started noticing a strange fluttering in your heart when he smiled at you ….. your mother told you that you would be moving back to her home country, the neighboring nation
needless to say you did not take it very well, and neither did hakyeon, but there was nothing to be done about it
you promised to visit every year and for the first three years you managed to keep that promise, but then you started school and he got busier and busier and suddenly it’s been almost a decade and you haven’t seen each other, and you’ve long since forgotten about that fluttering
but you never ever forget his birthday, every year since you moved you send him a gift with a long letter attached, and he does the same on your birthday
the first birthday present you sent to him, on his 8th birthday, was a pair of ballet shoes because the two of you had gone to a ballet with your mothers and you had seen how fascinated he was with the dancers
he never outright told you this, but you were the one to inspire him to start dancing ;(
and of course you couldn’t help but know what he was up to, pictures of him were always showing up online and while you were going through your horrible puberty phase in high school hakyeon was somehow becoming ….. incredibly beautiful
even though he had a really really bad haircut for a while
you don’t really think about hakyeon much anymore, asides from when his birthday is coming up or you see something that reminds you of him, but when you graduate from university you get a job offer to teach at a primary school in the capital of his country
and being a relatively broke college student, you take it
being back where you grew up is strange, but what is even stranger is witnessing the nation’s adoration for prince hakyeon when 2 y/o prince hakyeon threw up on you after eating too much
the school you’re teaching at is relatively close to the palace, and every day you walk past the gardens and can’t help but remember all those summer days making the palace guards play tag with you
but despite being so close to where hakyeon is …… part of you knows that the two of you have grown …. and have become different people than those silly 7 year olds …. and that same part of you is scared that if you saw him you wouldn’t know what to say ….. and that it would somehow ruin that perfect childhood that you loved
so you don’t reach out to hakyeon or tell him you’re in the city, and you figure you’ll just avoid that until one day you go to pick up your students from their regular music class, and standing there is prince hakyeon himself, singing merrily as he dances with the kids, and why had none of your coworkers bothered to say that the prince was stopping by today???
for a moment, when he makes eye contact with you, you think he’s remembered you, but he doesn’t say anything and you realize that there’s no reason he would know what you look like now, it’s been a decade
as you shuffle your students down the hall you feel a pang of sadness in your heart, because he’s more handsome in person than any photo could show, and it hurts to know he didn’t recognize you
except when your students leave for the day, hakyeon steps in and says your name quietly, like he isn’t entirely sure it’s really you ,,,,,,, because when you walked into that room he was sure he was dreaming ,,,,,
nervously you go “hello, hakyeon” but all those worries fall away when he comes over to you and swoops you into a hug …… and he smells so clean and fresh and his warmth envelops you and you can’t believe it’s been ten years when it feels like it’s only been ten days
that afternoon you invite him over to your apartment and he laughs when he sees the clutter, and you glower at him like “sorry i don’t have an entire cleaning staff your highness”
and the two of you spend the hours catching up, talking about your mothers and how hakyeon’s favorite horse is still going strong and you tell him how you’ve watched videos of him dancing, and the way he smiles at you reignites a special sort of happiness that you haven’t felt in years
you don’t even realize it’s almost midnight when hakyeon gets a text asking where he is and has to leave, but not before he tells you about an event the palace is hosting that weekend and telling you you have to come
“i had to endure so many royal parties full of snobs without you, you have to make it up to me”
the morning of the event a box arrives on your doorstep with a beautiful outfit and a note from hakyeon, saying you had to look amazing for your big return to the palace
at the event he finds you almost immediately and you realize his tie matches your outfit but you can’t ask him about it before his mother sees you and you are forced to socialize
plus you’re forced to watch bachelorette after bachelorette (and some bachelors) flirt with hakyeon, which makes you …… jealous ……. even though it feels weird to admit it
it’s maybe 30 minutes before you start to fidget, and when hakyeon is finally left alone you grab his hand and gesture in the directions of the gardens, and immediately a giant grin breaks out on his face and you stealthily leave the ballroom
the two of you laughing as you shed your shoes and run through the back corridors of the palace, till you’re standing breathless in front of the koi pond, looking just as the same as you remembered it
the moon is full and reflecting across the water, and as you wade into the pool, hakyeon watches as it lights up your face and makes you look like a beautiful water nymph, sparkles in your eyes ….
and it’s been ten years since he’s felt the glow that warms his chest as he looks at you
he’s tried to find it, he really has, but no one makes him feel the way you do. even though he was a kid when you left, there was always something special….. because you make him feel human ….. no one else can make him feel human the way you do, because you don’t think of him as a prince the way everyone in the country does
to you, he’s just hakyeon, and that’s enough for you. you never ask for more than that
slowly he walks into the water, and carefully he reaches out to cup your face, feeling your breath hitch when he asks “is it okay if i kiss you?”
when he finally closes the gap, it feels like a fairytale, even though his designer slacks are probably ruined and your feet are muddy ….. because it feels like you’ve been waiting for this your entire life, and honestly you sort of have
his mother is your number one fan ,,,,,,, when hakyeon tells her that the two of you are dating she is sooooooo happy ,,,,, but the country is also very happy, because in interviews when hakyeon talks about you or vice versa it’s so obvious you love each other
a lot of your dates are just exploring like you did when you were kids, and hakyeon is so grateful that you allow him to be young with you the way he can’t be anywhere else
he likes to have his arm around you in public, and you always complain because he’s just asking for paparazzi to take pictures but he’s like “i want to be seen with you so everyone knows i have the loveliest s/o in the country”
he dances for you sometimes and you get embarrassed about it because he’s so handsome and talented, but he pries your hands from your face and peppers your face with kisses so it’s ok
your students adore hakyeon and he spoils them rotten, always bringing them special flowers from the palace, you swear half of them are more in love with him than you are
he usually doesn’t like to flaunt his wealth or do anything extravagant, but when you have time off he does the most and organizes these incredible vacations
if you mention that you want to visit greece, he’ll fly you to an island off the coast for a week. if you say you’d like to see the eiffel tower, he’ll reserve a 5 star penthouse suite with a view of all of paris. if you say you want to go to the zoo, he’ll buy the entire zoo and rename it after you
small kisses are his favorite, but so are intense, passionate kisses that leave you breathless
you joke that the one downside to dating hakyeon is that you don’t get to discover his embarrassing past, because you were there for most of it. but he makes up for that with everything else!!!!!
#hakyeon scenarios#vixx scenarios#vixx imagines#n scenarios#hakyeon scenario#i really liked writing this...... i hope u guys like it too! mwah#hakyeon#vixx#💌
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
Promises for this year and reflections on last year
A few activities that I’m trying to have a positive impact my life in 2019
Reading (so many books I haven’t read on my shelf)
Drawing in my Adam J Curtis book
Writing Kasper pieces
Spend time figuring out a vague shape for Kasper so far.
Organise Skype sessions with friends, Helena, Steph/Archie, Tina/Aine, Rosie, Lauren,
Research artistic meetups
Find time to meditate
Find time to be silly/rehearse monologues
Singing in the shower
Practising monologues
Writing thought pieces
Practical things to work on in 2019
Get a credit card and spend £50 each month
Buy all birthday cards and presents for sister, mum, dad, matt, Archie, Sophie, Jonny and Rich and Helena. + any other major birthdays
Organise birthday party in August
Organise China trip in August
Things I promise to be this year
Being a better uncle to Archie
Everyone is a little bit racist as they say. I want to be less so. I want to understand more and go to talks, plays, listen to activists that have a BAME voice . And figure out how else I can be an ally.
Always be willing to learn
Reflections on 2018
January
I met Chris at Paul's birthday party which was amazing it was so fun and an overwhelm of lust and play. I stopped doing the Landmark Education introduction Leader Programme after 4 months of emotional, frustrating and enlivening phone calls. I couldn't deal with the pressure I was putting myself under. My grand visions of social justice and my own creative practise were in severe conflict with reality and I needed to reassess what I was saying to myself. I think Landmark has undoubtedly changed my life it has made me really respect myself and find ways of being more flexible on a day to day with others. I now have the best relationship with my Dad, Mum and work I have ever had. I also started counselling for the first of three times this year to clear up some irrational thought patterns, which has continued my personal development journey and understanding of myself. Katharine and I continued our obsession with Stacey Makishi @ The Yard Theatre. Paul and I watched an earthshattering theatrical version of Network at The National theatre.
February started with Rosies hen do and a rekindling of the Notts college crew. I had a two week break to hang round London see shows and art galleries. I had my first rehearsals for Kasper, a performance piece I have wanted to do for ages and invited Chris k to collaborate. I also partied hard with Kayleigh Foulkes for the first time in a number of years in Camden and G.A.Y. The broom dancing team were on form (minus Heather)
March
Rosie and Bob's wedding was another wonderful reminder of the awesome people that are in Nottingham, god I love our college crew there is so much I have to thank you for. Catching up with Jake was great, though we only met up three times this year, a culture vulture with a big heart and the best company. Kris R's party was a messy fun night with glitter et al at G.A.Y. And another messy night to welcome Gurdeep to his new Stratford home.
April
Discovering the cruisey vibes of Bloc bar with Bryan was amazing. It felt like I was at a gay trance night in the 90's. Pulsating music, guys and telling the time by the number of topless men you could see. April was also Jamie's birthday with a terrific karaoke and Chinese evening. I went to Nestas people powered health conference which made me want to do a service design ma in the new year and had a number of wines for the road with my director and manager.
May was an eventful month starting the new job, Eurovision being a messy evening to say the least in a fabulous location. I saw Hamilton with Jamie which was an honour and a pleasure it was the best musical I'd seen in ages, intelligent, mainstream, modern and political, never mind catchy. The amount of times I listened to the soundtrack Spotify created me my own Hamilton playlist as if it was a genre.
In June I did my first stint drinking no alcohol at house parties with support from Helena as she was trying to cut down as well. I joined the Grapes quiz team and won a number of times throughout the rest of the year with them. Helena and I went to Phobiarama which was a political and race based ghost train. Followed by a very iffy messy night at XXL. It was Jonny and Rich's 40th and Sophie's 30th. We said goodbye to the first care leavers peer support group and partied at Chris's caravan to say goodbye to Chris and Helena on their next adventures.
The start of July was Helenas leaving party :( This years London pride felt like the first time I really understood why we still celebrate. A space in which you can be anything you want to be and feel comfortable being who you are. Years and Years were epic at the Roundhouse showing off their new album with much pizazz. Grindr the Opera was a weridly touching patische that was both hialrious and heartwarming. Helena was back in London and had a brief visit to see Gary in his new pad with Lindsey on the Henley part of the river Thames.
August was my first holiday with my dad in a beautiful air bnb in the New Forest. I had a joint birthday with Chris K starting with a picnic in Green park and ending in the beautiful Set You Free at The Chateau for pure 90s pop #messy. Kayleigh came to London again and we saw Britney at the O2 and went to Jonny woo' club The Glory.
September I headed off to see Helena and explore Estonian culture in Talinn. I managed to do my best time on a half marathon. 1hour 54 minutes.
October
Not much happened in October.Cabaret night with Phil Will and Kris. Halloween twas
November I met a really nice guy on Tinder but just didn't get the spark. I started Kasper rehearsals again, trying to figure out what the hell you do in a devised rehearsal space. Fantastic Beasts was a disappointment.
December started off with a fab racalette and wine evening with Chris Will and Phil. We had two Team away days on the same day which I helped organise. The Xmas party was at one my fav craft beer places. I had the gayest of Secret Santa's with unicorn Christmas decorations, a apron with a fake cock attached to it and a very fluffy rainbow pen. I finally went to see The Inheritance. A beautiful bittersweet depiction of modern gay life and the debt we owe older gay men.
Throughout the year I have been volunteering at a care leavers peer support group in Thurrock. It has been a challenging experience with the young people but also being able to find our place in the group. I wrote a blog about my experience here. I am continuing this into next year and won't be continuing after June.
It was a bit of a shock in May to hear that Helena (my closest and best friend) would be moving to China. We have really gone through thick and thin together and with each other over the last two years. Meeting at Landmark on a course and then developing a social impact concept together. Whilst the CCA's output may have left much to be desired. We created some unbelievable friendships ourselves and with other people including Gary, Kris , Annie and Papola. July was the month when she departed to go to Estonia for a few months before leaping over to Bejing to be a lecturer. Looking back over the year it strikes me how much of an impact she has had on me. Getting me off my seriousness addiction, pushing me when I didn't think I could give much more. She is one in million a real open, honest, not afraid to share her thoughts, willing to give anything a go and also a mysterious multitasker that you don't realise is doing so much brilliant stuff. She has opened my eyes to the EU migrant experience in Britain, Estonia's vibrant culture, my own biases, helped me celebrate myself and so so so much more. Helena I frigging love you and miss you, no one can ever take your place.
At work it was an up and down year. A department restructure and consultation had been taking place since September 2017. After six months we had the finalised structure, my line manager was leaving which was a blessing and a curse. (In some ways he was an amazing line manager giving me space to explore with him what I wanted to develop in the role but he was also not great at following up and holding me to account plus our meetings could go on for hours.) Then looking at the final paper I saw that my job had been deleted. So I had to interview for a new position which mostly matched my previous role, though it was the grade above which softened the blow. We welcomed Jane to the peer support team and many others into the unit and it felt we had new found energy and ambition. Two colleagues and myself started the LGBTIQ+ workshop which has been an amazing 6 months of creating events, learning, creating structures and trying to see how we are best placed in the organisation. At the Xmas party we even had someone congratulating us on sustaining the group and seeing us as a steering group for the organisation. I also travelled to Birmingham and Swansea for Influence and Participation (I&P) events, helped create an animation and will be facilitating a session next year for a new set of videos explaining the benefits of I & P to people on their recovery journey. The success of our staff forum pay paper meant in April that all staff got a pay rise, with further Brexit/ economic developments this will be a key focus in the coming years to see how we can support staff within our capacity as a charity. I was recently made the staff forum chairperson as Zadie leaves after having helped us navigate a consultation that asked major questions of our internal structures and leadership and form a project plan. Things now seem more on track with my role with a clear steer that my efforts to troubleshoot and problem solve is a positive contribution to the units and department as a whole. We will see what happens in the new year.
Jamie was another of Paul's friends who I instantly hit it off with. An amazing creative/ animator who has enthusiasm for all things culture with a labyrinth of music, film, TV shows and merch surrounding his almost iconic living room. We created a film club watching films we had never seen before it was a zany mix of animation, black comedy, surreal adventures and classics that you are suppose to have seen. After a bit of persuasion Jamie created an amazing puppet lipsynch to Robyn's here. Talent screaming out, can't wait to see what next year brings for this phenomenal guy.
Chris what to say about Chris. Well he has given me some of the best nights of the year pub quizzes, theatre, drinks, nights in, films, banter, Karaoke, clubbing, a picnic. His smile is inffectious. He made me value the small things. We dated and that came to an end but he became a solid friend. There is so much going for him I just wish he would see how great he really is.
Big love
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
triffany-lottablog
Kipper / Cavalier
300artistascontemporaneos
300CREADORES
beccaversacesims
Becca Versace
mdzs-is-rotting-my-brain
I read MDZS and all I got was this hyperfixcation
becauseitsrelevant
take me away from all that i am